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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/774-0.txt b/774-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5df29c --- /dev/null +++ b/774-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5461 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Essays and Lectures, by Oscar Wilde, Edited +by Robert Ross + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Essays and Lectures + + +Author: Oscar Wilde + +Editor: Robert Ross + +Release Date: March 12, 2013 [eBook #774] +[This file was first posted on January 5, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS AND LECTURES*** + + +Transcribed from the 1913 Methuen and Co edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + ESSAYS AND LECTURES + + + BY + OSCAR WILDE + + * * * * * + + METHUEN & CO. LTD. + 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + LONDON + + _Fourth Edition_ + + * * * * * + +_First Published in Book Form_ (_Limited Edition on _1908_ +Handmade Paper and Japanese Vellum_) +_Second Edition_ (_F’cap._ 8_vo_) _1909_ +_Third Edition_ ( ,, ,, ) _1911_ +_Fourth Edition_ ( ,, ,, ) _1913_ + + DEDICATED + TO + WALTER LEDGER + BY + THE AUTHOR’S LITERARY EXECUTOR + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE +THE RISE OF HISTORICAL CRITICISM 1 +THE ENGLISH RENAISSANCE OF ART 109 +HOUSE DECORATION 157 +ART AND THE HANDICRAFTMAN 173 +LECTURE TO ART STUDENTS 197 +LONDON MODELS 213 +POEMS IN PROSE 227 + + + +PREFACE + + +WITH the exception of the _Poems in Prose_ this volume does not contain +anything which the author ever contemplated reprinting. _The Rise of +Historical Criticism_ is interesting to admirers of his work, however, +because it shows the development of his style and the wide intellectual +range distinguishing the least _borné_ of all the late Victorian writers, +with the possible exception of Ruskin. It belongs to Wilde’s Oxford days +when he was the unsuccessful competitor for the Chancellor’s English +Essay Prize. Perhaps Magdalen, which has never forgiven herself for +nurturing the author of _Ravenna_, may be felicitated on having escaped +the further intolerable honour that she might have suffered by seeing +crowned again with paltry academic parsley the most highly gifted of all +her children in the last century. + +Of the lectures, I have only included those which exist, so far as I +know, in manuscript; the reports of others in contemporary newspapers +being untrustworthy. They were usually delivered from notes and were +repeated at various towns in England and America. Here will be found the +origin of Whistler’s charges of plagiarism against the author. How far +they are justified the reader can decide for himself, Wilde always +admitted that, relying on an old and intimate friendship, he asked the +artist’s assistance on one occasion for a lecture he had failed to +prepare in time. This I presume to be the Address delivered to the Art +Students of the Royal Academy in 1883, as Whistler certainly reproduced +some of it as his own in the ‘Ten o’clock’ lecture delivered +subsequently, in 1885. To what extent an idea may be regarded as a +perpetual gift, or whether it is ethically possible to retrieve an idea +like an engagement ring, it is not for me to discuss. I would only point +out once more that all the works by which Wilde is known throughout +Europe were written after the two friends had quarrelled. That Wilde +derived a great deal from the older man goes without saying, just as he +derived so much in a greater degree from Pater, Ruskin, Arnold and +Burne-Jones. Yet the tedious attempt to recognise in every jest of his +some original by Whistler induces the criticism that it seems a pity the +great painter did not get them off on the public before he was +forestalled. Reluctance from an appeal to publicity was never a weakness +in either of the men. Some of Wilde’s more frequently quoted sayings +were made at the Old Bailey (though their provenance is often forgotten) +or on his death-bed. + +As a matter of fact the genius of the two men was entirely different. +Wilde was a humourist and a humanist before everything; and his wittiest +jests have neither the relentlessness nor the keenness characterising +those of the clever American artist. Again, Whistler could no more have +obtained the Berkeley Gold Medal for Greek, nor have written _The +Importance of Being Earnest_, and _The Soul of Man_, than Wilde, even if +equipped as a painter, could have evinced that superb restraint +characterising the portraits of ‘Miss Alexander,’ ‘Carlyle,’ and other +masterpieces. Wilde, though it is not generally known, was something of +a draughtsman in his youth. + +_Poems in Prose_ were to have been continued. They are the kind of +stories which Wilde would tell at a dinner-table, being invented on the +spur of the moment, or inspired by the chance observation of some one who +managed to get the traditional word in edgeways; or they were developed +from some phrase in a book Wilde might have read during the day. To +those who remember hearing them from his lips there must always be a +feeling of disappointment on reading them. He overloaded their ornament +when he came to transcribe them, and some of his friends did not hesitate +to make that criticism to him personally. Though he affected annoyance, +I do not think it prevented him from writing the others, which +unfortunately exist only in the memories of friends. Miss Aimée Lowther, +however, has cleverly noted down some of them in a privately printed +volume. + + ROBERT ROSS + + + + +THE RISE OF HISTORICAL CRITICISM + + +This Essay was written for the Chancellor’s English Essay Prize at Oxford +in 1879, the subject being ‘Historical Criticism among the Ancients.’ +The prize was not awarded. To Professor J. W. Mackail thanks are due for +revising the proofs. + + + +I + + +HISTORICAL criticism nowhere occurs as an isolated fact in the +civilisation or literature of any people. It is part of that complex +working towards freedom which may be described as the revolt against +authority. It is merely one facet of that speculative spirit of an +innovation, which in the sphere of action produces democracy and +revolution, and in that of thought is the parent of philosophy and +physical science; and its importance as a factor of progress is based not +so much on the results it attains, as on the tone of thought which it +represents, and the method by which it works. + +Being thus the resultant of forces essentially revolutionary, it is not +to be found in the ancient world among the material despotisms of Asia or +the stationary civilisation of Egypt. The clay cylinders of Assyria and +Babylon, the hieroglyphics of the pyramids, form not history but the +material for history. + +The Chinese annals, ascending as they do to the barbarous forest life of +the nation, are marked with a soberness of judgment, a freedom from +invention, which is almost unparalleled in the writings of any people; +but the protective spirit which is the characteristic of that people +proved as fatal to their literature as to their commerce. Free criticism +is as unknown as free trade. While as regards the Hindus, their acute, +analytical and logical mind is directed rather to grammar, criticism and +philosophy than to history or chronology. Indeed, in history their +imagination seems to have run wild, legend and fact are so indissolubly +mingled together that any attempt to separate them seems vain. If we +except the identification of the Greek Sandracottus with the Indian +Chandragupta, we have really no clue by which we can test the truth of +their writings or examine their method of investigation. + +It is among the Hellenic branch of the Indo-Germanic race that history +proper is to be found, as well as the spirit of historical criticism; +among that wonderful offshoot of the primitive Aryans, whom we call by +the name of Greeks and to whom, as has been well said, we owe all that +moves in the world except the blind forces of nature. + +For, from the day when they left the chill table-lands of Tibet and +journeyed, a nomad people, to Ægean shores, the characteristic of their +nature has been the search for light, and the spirit of historical +criticism is part of that wonderful Aufklärung or illumination of the +intellect which seems to have burst on the Greek race like a great flood +of light about the sixth century B.C. + +_L’esprit d’un siècle ne naît pas et ne meurt pas à jour fixe_, and the +first critic is perhaps as difficult to discover as the first man. It is +from democracy that the spirit of criticism borrows its intolerance of +dogmatic authority, from physical science the alluring analogies of law +and order, from philosophy the conception of an essential unity +underlying the complex manifestations of phenomena. It appears first +rather as a changed attitude of mind than as a principle of research, and +its earliest influences are to be found in the sacred writings. + +For men begin to doubt in questions of religion first, and then in +matters of more secular interest; and as regards the nature of the spirit +of historical criticism itself in its ultimate development, it is not +confined merely to the empirical method of ascertaining whether an event +happened or not, but is concerned also with the investigation into the +causes of events, the general relations which phenomena of life hold to +one another, and in its ultimate development passes into the wider +question of the philosophy of history. + +Now, while the workings of historical criticism in these two spheres of +sacred and uninspired history are essentially manifestations of the same +spirit, yet their methods are so different, the canons of evidence so +entirely separate, and the motives in each case so unconnected, that it +will be necessary for a clear estimation of the progress of Greek +thought, that we should consider these two questions entirely apart from +one another. I shall then in both cases take the succession of writers +in their chronological order as representing the rational order—not that +the succession of time is always the succession of ideas, or that +dialectics moves ever in the straight line in which Hegel conceives its +advance. In Greek thought, as elsewhere, there are periods of stagnation +and apparent retrogression, yet their intellectual development, not +merely in the question of historical criticism, but in their art, their +poetry and their philosophy, seems so essentially normal, so free from +all disturbing external influences, so peculiarly rational, that in +following in the footsteps of time we shall really be progressing in the +order sanctioned by reason. + + + +II + + +AT an early period in their intellectual development the Greeks reached +that critical point in the history of every civilised nation, when +speculative invades the domain of revealed truth, when the spiritual +ideas of the people can no longer be satisfied by the lower, material +conceptions of their inspired writers, and when men find it impossible to +pour the new wine of free thought into the old bottles of a narrow and a +trammelling creed. + +From their Aryan ancestors they had received the fatal legacy of a +mythology stained with immoral and monstrous stories which strove to hide +the rational order of nature in a chaos of miracles, and to mar by +imputed wickedness the perfection of God’s nature—a very shirt of Nessos +in which the Heracles of rationalism barely escaped annihilation. Now +while undoubtedly the speculations of Thales, and the alluring analogies +of law and order afforded by physical science, were most important forces +in encouraging the rise of the spirit of scepticism, yet it was on its +ethical side that the Greek mythology was chiefly open to attack. + +It is difficult to shake the popular belief in miracles, but no man will +admit sin and immorality as attributes of the Ideal he worships; so the +first symptoms of a new order of thought are shown in the passionate +outcries of Xenophanes and Heraclitos against the evil things said by +Homer of the sons of God; and in the story told of Pythagoras, how that +he saw tortured in Hell the ‘two founders of Greek theology,’ we can +recognise the rise of the Aufklärung as clearly as we see the Reformation +foreshadowed in the _Inferno_ of Dante. + +Any honest belief, then, in the plain truth of these stories soon +succumbed before the destructive effects of the _a priori_ ethical +criticism of this school; but the orthodox party, as is its custom, found +immediately a convenient shelter under the ægis of the doctrine of +metaphors and concealed meanings. + +To this allegorical school the tale of the fight around the walls of Troy +was a mystery, behind which, as behind a veil, were hidden certain moral +and physical truths. The contest between Athena and Ares was that +eternal contest between rational thought and the brute force of +ignorance; the arrows which rattled in the quiver of the ‘Far Darter’ +were no longer the instruments of vengeance shot from the golden bow of +the child of God, but the common rays of the sun, which was itself +nothing but a mere inert mass of burning metal. + +Modern investigation, with the ruthlessness of Philistine analysis, has +ultimately brought Helen of Troy down to a symbol of the dawn. There +were Philistines among the Greeks also who saw in the _ἄναξ ἀδρῶν_ a mere +metaphor for atmospheric power. + +Now while this tendency to look for metaphors and hidden meanings must be +ranked as one of the germs of historical criticism, yet it was +essentially unscientific. Its inherent weakness is clearly pointed out +by Plato, who showed that while this theory will no doubt explain many of +the current legends, yet, if it is to be appealed to at all, it must be +as a universal principle; a position he is by no means prepared to admit. + +Like many other great principles it suffered from its disciples, and +furnished its own refutation when the web of Penelope was analysed into a +metaphor of the rules of formal logic, the warp representing the +premises, and the woof the conclusion. + +Rejecting, then, the allegorical interpretation of the sacred writings as +an essentially dangerous method, proving either too much or too little, +Plato himself returns to the earlier mode of attack, and re-writes +history with a didactic purpose, laying down certain ethical canons of +historical criticism. God is good; God is just; God is true; God is +without the common passions of men. These are the tests to which we are +to bring the stories of the Greek religion. + +‘God predestines no men to ruin, nor sends destruction on innocent +cities; He never walks the earth in strange disguise, nor has to mourn +for the death of any well-beloved son. Away with the tears for Sarpedon, +the lying dream sent to Agamemnon, and the story of the broken covenant!’ +(Plato, _Republic_, Book ii. 380; iii. 388, 391.) + +Similar ethical canons are applied to the accounts of the heroes of the +days of old, and by the same _a priori_ principles Achilles is rescued +from the charges of avarice and insolence in a passage which may be +recited as the earliest instance of that ‘whitewashing of great men,’ as +it has been called, which is so popular in our own day, when Catiline and +Clodius are represented as honest and far-seeing politicians, when _eine +edle und gute Natur_ is claimed for Tiberius, and Nero is rescued from +his heritage of infamy as an accomplished _dilettante_ whose moral +aberrations are more than excused by his exquisite artistic sense and +charming tenor voice. + +But besides the allegorising principle of interpretation, and the ethical +reconstruction of history, there was a third theory, which may be called +the semi-historical, and which goes by the name of Euhemeros, though he +was by no means the first to propound it. + +Appealing to a fictitious monument which he declared that he had +discovered in the island of Panchaia, and which purported to be a column +erected by Zeus, and detailing the incidents of his reign on earth, this +shallow thinker attempted to show that the gods and heroes of ancient +Greece were ‘mere ordinary mortals, whose achievements had been a good +deal exaggerated and misrepresented,’ and that the proper canon of +historical criticism as regards the treatment of myths was to rationalise +the incredible, and to present the plausible residuum as actual truth. + +To him and his school, the centaurs, for instance, those mythical sons of +the storm, strange links between the lives of men and animals, were +merely some youths from the village of Nephele in Thessaly, distinguished +for their sporting tastes; the ‘living harvest of panoplied knights,’ +which sprang so mystically from the dragon’s teeth, a body of mercenary +troops supported by the profits on a successful speculation in ivory; and +Actæon, an ordinary master of hounds, who, living before the days of +subscription, was eaten out of house and home by the expenses of his +kennel. + +Now, that under the glamour of myth and legend some substratum of +historical fact may lie, is a proposition rendered extremely probable by +the modern investigations into the workings of the mythopœic spirit in +post-Christian times. Charlemagne and Roland, St. Francis and William +Tell, are none the less real personages because their histories are +filled with much that is fictitious and incredible, but in all cases what +is essentially necessary is some external corroboration, such as is +afforded by the mention of Roland and Roncesvalles in the chronicles of +England, or (in the sphere of Greek legend) by the excavations of +Hissarlik. But to rob a mythical narrative of its kernel of supernatural +elements, and to present the dry husk thus obtained as historical fact, +is, as has been well said, to mistake entirely the true method of +investigation and to identify plausibility with truth. + +And as regards the critical point urged by Palaiphatos, Strabo, and +Polybius, that pure invention on Homer’s part is inconceivable, we may +without scruple allow it, for myths, like constitutions, grow gradually, +and are not formed in a day. But between a poet’s deliberate creation +and historical accuracy there is a wide field of the mythopœic faculty. + +This Euhemeristic theory was welcomed as an essentially philosophical and +critical method by the unscientific Romans, to whom it was introduced by +the poet Ennius, that pioneer of cosmopolitan Hellenicism, and it +continued to characterise the tone of ancient thought on the question of +the treatment of mythology till the rise of Christianity, when it was +turned by such writers as Augustine and Minucius Felix into a formidable +weapon of attack on Paganism. It was then abandoned by all those who +still bent the knee to Athena or to Zeus, and a general return, aided by +the philosophic mystics of Alexandria, to the allegorising principle of +interpretation took place, as the only means of saving the deities of +Olympus from the Titan assaults of the new Galilean God. In what vain +defence, the statue of Mary set in the heart of the Pantheon can best +tell us. + +Religions, however, may be absorbed, but they never are disproved, and +the stories of the Greek mythology, spiritualised by the purifying +influence of Christianity, reappear in many of the southern parts of +Europe in our own day. The old fable that the Greek gods took service +with the new religion under assumed names has more truth in it than the +many care to discover. + +Having now traced the progress of historical criticism in the special +treatment of myth and legend, I shall proceed to investigate the form in +which the same spirit manifested itself as regards what one may term +secular history and secular historians. The field traversed will be +found to be in some respects the same, but the mental attitude, the +spirit, the motive of investigation are all changed. + +There were heroes before the son of Atreus and historians before +Herodotus, yet the latter is rightly hailed as the father of history, for +in him we discover not merely the empirical connection of cause and +effect, but that constant reference to Laws, which is the characteristic +of the historian proper. + +For all history must be essentially universal; not in the sense of +comprising all the synchronous events of the past time, but through the +universality of the principles employed. And the great conceptions which +unify the work of Herodotus are such as even modern thought has not yet +rejected. The immediate government of the world by God, the nemesis and +punishment which sin and pride invariably bring with them, the revealing +of God’s purpose to His people by signs and omens, by miracles and by +prophecy; these are to Herodotus the laws which govern the phenomena of +history. He is essentially the type of supernatural historian; his eyes +are ever strained to discern the Spirit of God moving over the face of +the waters of life; he is more concerned with final than with efficient +causes. + +Yet we can discern in him the rise of that _historic sense_ which is the +rational antecedent of the science of historical criticism, the _φυσικὸν +κριτήριον_, to use the words of a Greek writer, as opposed to that which +comes either _τέχνη_ or _διδαχῇ_. + +He has passed through the valley of faith and has caught a glimpse of the +sunlit heights of Reason; but like all those who, while accepting the +supernatural, yet attempt to apply the canons of rationalism, he is +essentially inconsistent. For the better apprehension of the character +of this historic sense in Herodotus it will be necessary to examine at +some length the various forms of criticism in which it manifests itself. + +Such fabulous stories as that of the Phoenix, of the goat-footed men, of +the headless beings with eyes in their breasts, of the men who slept six +months in the year (_τοῦτο οὐκ ἐνδέχομαι ηὴν ἀρχήν_), of the wer-wolf of +the Neuri, and the like, are entirely rejected by him as being opposed to +the ordinary experience of life, and to those natural laws whose +universal influence the early Greek physical philosophers had already +made known to the world of thought. Other legends, such as the suckling +of Cyrus by a bitch, or the feather-rain of northern Europe, are +rationalised and explained into a woman’s name and a fall of snow. The +supernatural origin of the Scythian nation, from the union of Hercules +and the monstrous Echidna, is set aside by him for the more probable +account that they were a nomad tribe driven by the Massagetæ from Asia; +and he appeals to the local names of their country as proof of the fact +that the Kimmerians were the original possessors. + +But in the case of Herodotus it will be more instructive to pass on from +points like these to those questions of general probability, the true +apprehension of which depends rather on a certain quality of mind than on +any possibility of formulated rules, questions which form no unimportant +part of scientific history; for it must be remembered always that the +canons of historical criticism are essentially different from those of +judicial evidence, for they cannot, like the latter, be made plain to +every ordinary mind, but appeal to a certain historical faculty founded +on the experience of life. Besides, the rules for the reception of +evidence in courts of law are purely stationary, while the science of +historical probability is essentially progressive, and changes with the +advancing spirit of each age. + +Now, of all the speculative canons of historical criticism, none is more +important than that which rests on psychological probability. + +Arguing from his knowledge of human nature, Herodotus rejects the +presence of Helen within the walls of Troy. Had she been there, he says, +Priam and his kinsmen would never have been so mad (_φρενοβλαβεῖς_) as +not to give her up, when they and their children and their city were in +such peril (ii. 118); and as regards the authority of Homer, some +incidental passages in his poem show that he knew of Helen’s sojourn in +Egypt during the siege, but selected the other story as being a more +suitable motive for an epic. Similarly he does not believe that the +Alcmæonidæ family, a family who had always been the haters of tyranny +(_μισοτύραννοι_), and to whom, even more than to Harmodios and +Aristogeiton, Athens owed its liberty, would ever have been so +treacherous as to hold up a shield after the battle of Marathon as a +signal for the Persian host to fall on the city. A shield, he +acknowledges, was held up, but it could not possibly have been done by +such friends of liberty as the house of Alcmæon; nor will he believe that +a great king like Rhampsinitus would have sent his daughter _κατίσαι ἐπ’ +οἰκήματος_. + +Elsewhere he argues from more general considerations of probability; a +Greek courtesan like Rhodopis would hardly have been rich enough to build +a pyramid, and, besides, on chronological grounds the story is impossible +(ii. 134). + +In another passage (ii. 63), after giving an account of the forcible +entry of the priests of Ares into the chapel of the god’s mother, which +seems to have been a sort of religious faction fight where sticks were +freely used (_μάχη ξύλοισι καρτερή_), ‘I feel sure,’ he says, ‘that many +of them died from getting their heads broken, notwithstanding the +assertions of the Egyptian priests to the contrary.’ There is also +something charmingly naïve in the account he gives of the celebrated +Greek swimmer who dived a distance of eighty stadia to give his +countrymen warning of the Persian advance. ‘If, however,’ he says, ‘I +may offer an opinion on the subject, I would say that he came in a boat.’ + +There is, of course, something a little trivial in some of the instances +I have quoted; but in a writer like Herodotus, who stands on the +borderland between faith and rationalism, one likes to note even the most +minute instances of the rise of the critical and sceptical spirit of +inquiry. + +How really strange, at base, it was with him may, I think, be shown by a +reference to those passages where he applies rationalistic tests to +matters connected with religion. He nowhere, indeed, grapples with the +moral and scientific difficulties of the Greek Bible; and where he +rejects as incredible the marvellous achievements of Hercules in Egypt, +he does so on the express grounds that he had not yet been received among +the gods, and so was still subject to the ordinary conditions of mortal +life (_ἔτι ἄνθρωπον ἐόντα_). + +Even within these limits, however, his religious conscience seems to have +been troubled at such daring rationalism, and the passage (ii. 45) +concludes with a pious hope that God will pardon him for having gone so +far, the great rationalistic passage being, of course, that in which he +rejects the mythical account of the foundation of Dodona. ‘How can a +dove speak with a human voice?’ he asks, and rationalises the bird into a +foreign princess. + +Similarly he seems more inclined to believe that the great storm at the +beginning of the Persian War ceased from ordinary atmospheric causes, and +not in consequence of the incantations of the _Magians_. He calls +Melampos, whom the majority of the Greeks looked on as an inspired +prophet, ‘a clever man who had acquired for himself the art of prophecy’; +and as regards the miracle told of the Æginetan statues of the primeval +deities of Damia and Auxesia, that they fell on their knees when the +sacrilegious Athenians strove to carry them off, ‘any one may believe +it,’ he says, ‘who likes, but as for myself, I place no credence in the +tale.’ + +So much then for the rationalistic spirit of historical criticism, as far +as it appears explicitly in the works of this great and philosophic +writer; but for an adequate appreciation of his position we must also +note how conscious he was of the value of documentary evidence, of the +use of inscriptions, of the importance of the poets as throwing light on +manners and customs as well as on historical incidents. No writer of any +age has more vividly recognised the fact that history is a matter of +evidence, and that it is as necessary for the historian to state his +authority as it is to produce one’s witnesses in a court of law. + +While, however, we can discern in Herodotus the rise of an historic +sense, we must not blind ourselves to the large amount of instances where +he receives supernatural influences as part of the ordinary forces of +life. Compared to Thucydides, who succeeded him in the development of +history, he appears almost like a mediæval writer matched with a modern +rationalist. For, contemporary though they were, between these two +authors there is an infinite chasm of thought. + +The essential difference of their methods may be best illustrated from +those passages where they treat of the same subject. The execution of +the Spartan heralds, Nicolaos and Aneristos, during the Peloponnesian War +is regarded by Herodotus as one of the most supernatural instances of the +workings of nemesis and the wrath of an outraged hero; while the +lengthened siege and ultimate fall of Troy was brought about by the +avenging hand of God desiring to manifest unto men the mighty penalties +which always follow upon mighty sins. But Thucydides either sees not, or +desires not to see, in either of these events the finger of Providence, +or the punishment of wicked doers. The death of the heralds is merely an +Athenian retaliation for similar outrages committed by the opposite side; +the long agony of the ten years’ siege is due merely to the want of a +good commissariat in the Greek army; while the fall of the city is the +result of a united military attack consequent on a good supply of +provisions. + +Now, it is to be observed that in this latter passage, as well as +elsewhere, Thucydides is in no sense of the word a sceptic as regards his +attitude towards the truth of these ancient legends. + +Agamemnon and Atreus, Theseus and Eurystheus, even Minos, about whom +Herodotus has some doubts, are to him as real personages as Alcibiades or +Gylippus. The points in his historical criticism of the past are, first, +his rejection of all extra-natural interference, and, secondly, the +attributing to these ancient heroes the motives and modes of thought of +his own day. The present was to him the key to the explanation of the +past, as it was to the prediction of the future. + +Now, as regards his attitude towards the supernatural he is at one with +modern science. We too know that, just as the primeval coal-beds reveal +to us the traces of rain-drops and other atmospheric phenomena similar to +those of our own day, so, in estimating the history of the past, the +introduction of no force must be allowed whose workings we cannot observe +among the phenomena around us. To lay down canons of ultra-historical +credibility for the explanation of events which happen to have preceded +us by a few thousand years, is as thoroughly unscientific as it is to +intermingle preternatural in geological theories. + +Whatever the canons of art may be, no difficulty in history is so great +as to warrant the introduction of a spirit of spirit _θεὸς ἀπὸ μηχανῆς_, +in the sense of a violation of the laws of nature. + +Upon the other point, however, Thucydides falls into an anachronism. To +refuse to allow the workings of chivalrous and self-denying motives among +the knights of the Trojan crusade, because he saw none in the +faction-loving Athenian of his own day, is to show an entire ignorance of +the various characteristics of human nature developing under different +circumstances, and to deny to a primitive chieftain like Agamemnon that +authority founded on opinion, to which we give the name of divine right, +is to fall into an historical error quite as gross as attributing to +Atreus the courting of the populace (_τεθεραπευκότα τὸν δῆμον_) with a +view to the Mycenean throne. + +The general method of historical criticism pursued by Thucydides having +been thus indicated, it remains to proceed more into detail as regards +those particular points where he claims for himself a more rational +method of estimating evidence than either the public or his predecessors +possessed. + +‘So little pains,’ he remarks, ‘do the vulgar take in the investigation +of truth, satisfied with their preconceived opinions,’ that the majority +of the Greeks believe in a Pitanate cohort of the Spartan army and in a +double vote being the prerogative of the Spartan kings, neither of which +opinions has any foundation in fact. But the chief point on which he +lays stress as evincing the ‘uncritical way with which men receive +legends, even the legends of their own country,’ is the entire +baselessness of the common Athenian tradition in which Harmodios and +Aristogeiton were represented as the patriotic liberators of Athens from +the Peisistratid tyranny. So far, he points out, from the love of +freedom being their motive, both of them were influenced by merely +personal considerations, Aristogeiton being jealous of Hipparchos’ +attention to Harmodios, then a beautiful boy in the flower of Greek +loveliness, while the latter’s indignation was aroused by an insult +offered to his sister by the prince. + +Their motives, then, were personal revenge, while the result of their +conspiracy served only to rivet more tightly the chains of servitude +which bound Athens to the Peisistratid house, for Hipparchos, whom they +killed, was only the tyrant’s younger brother, and not the tyrant +himself. + +To prove his theory that Hippias was the elder, he appeals to the +evidence afforded by a public inscription in which his name occurs +immediately after that of his father, a point which he thinks shows that +he was the eldest, and so the heir. This view he further corroborates by +another inscription, on the altar of Apollo, which mentions the children +of Hippias and not those of his brothers; ‘for it was natural for the +eldest to be married first’; and besides this, on the score of general +probability he points out that, had Hippias been the younger, he would +not have so easily obtained the tyranny on the death of Hipparchos. + +Now, what is important in Thucydides, as evinced in the treatment of +legend generally, is not the results he arrived at, but the method by +which he works. The first great rationalistic historian, he may be said +to have paved the way for all those who followed after him, though it +must always be remembered that, while the total absence in his pages of +all the mystical paraphernalia of the supernatural theory of life is an +advance in the progress of rationalism, and an era in scientific history, +whose importance could never be over-estimated, yet we find along with it +a total absence of any mention of those various social and economical +forces which form such important factors in the evolution of the world, +and to which Herodotus rightly gave great prominence in his immortal +work. The history of Thucydides is essentially one-sided and incomplete. +The intricate details of sieges and battles, subjects with which the +historian proper has really nothing to do except so far as they may throw +light on the spirit of the age, we would readily exchange for some notice +of the condition of private society in Athens, or the influence and +position of women. + +There is an advance in the method of historical criticism; there is an +advance in the conception and motive of history itself; for in Thucydides +we may discern that natural reaction against the intrusion of didactic +and theological considerations into the sphere of the pure intellect, the +spirit of which may be found in the Euripidean treatment of tragedy and +the later schools of art, as well as in the Platonic conception of +science. + +History, no doubt, has splendid lessons for our instruction, just as all +good art comes to us as the herald of the noblest truth. But, to set +before either the painter or the historian the inculcation of moral +lessons as an aim to be consciously pursued, is to miss entirely the true +motive and characteristic both of art and history, which is in the one +case the creation of beauty, in the other the discovery of the laws of +the evolution of progress: _Il ne faut demander de l’Art que l’Art_, _du +passé que le passé_. + +Herodotus wrote to illustrate the wonderful ways of Providence and the +nemesis that falls on sin, and his work is a good example of the truth +that nothing can dispense with criticism so much as a moral aim. +Thucydides has no creed to preach, no doctrine to prove. He analyses the +results which follow inevitably from certain antecedents, in order that +on a recurrence of the same crisis men may know how to act. + +His object was to discover the laws of the past so as to serve as a light +to illumine the future. We must not confuse the recognition of the +utility of history with any ideas of a didactic aim. Two points more in +Thucydides remain for our consideration: his treatment of the rise of +Greek civilisation, and of the primitive condition of Hellas, as well as +the question how far can he be said really to have recognised the +existence of laws regulating the complex phenomena of life. + + + +III + + +THE investigation into the two great problems of the origin of society +and the philosophy of history occupies such an important position in the +evolution of Greek thought that, to obtain any clear view of the workings +of the critical spirit, it will be necessary to trace at some length +their rise and scientific development as evinced not merely in the works +of historians proper, but also in the philosophical treatises of Plato +and Aristotle. The important position which these two great thinkers +occupy in the progress of historical criticism can hardly be +over-estimated. I do not mean merely as regards their treatment of the +Greek Bible, and Plato’s endeavours to purge sacred history of its +immorality by the application of ethical canons at the time when +Aristotle was beginning to undermine the basis of miracles by his +scientific conception of law, but with reference to these two wider +questions of the rise of civil institutions and the philosophy of +history. + +And first, as regards the current theories of the primitive condition of +society, there was a wide divergence of opinion in Hellenic society, just +as there is now. For while the majority of the orthodox public, of whom +Hesiod may be taken as the representative, looked back, as a great many +of our own day still do, to a fabulous age of innocent happiness, a +_bell’ età dell’ auro_, where sin and death were unknown and men and +women were like Gods, the foremost men of intellect such as Aristotle and +Plato, Æschylus and many of the other poets {29} saw in primitive man ‘a +few small sparks of humanity preserved on the tops of mountains after +some deluge,’ ‘without an idea of cities, governments or legislation,’ +‘living the lives of wild beasts in sunless caves,’ ‘their only law being +the survival of the fittest.’ + +And this, too, was the opinion of Thucydides, whose _Archæologia_ as it +is contains a most valuable disquisition on the early condition of +Hellas, which it will be necessary to examine at some length. + +Now, as regards the means employed generally by Thucydides for the +elucidation of ancient history, I have already pointed out how that, +while acknowledging that ‘it is the tendency of every poet to exaggerate, +as it is of every chronicler to seek to be attractive at the expense of +truth,’ he yet assumes in the thoroughly euhemeristic way, that under the +veil of myth and legend there does yet exist a rational basis of fact +discoverable by the method of rejecting all supernatural interference as +well as any extraordinary motives influencing the actors. It is in +complete accordance with this spirit that he appeals, for instance, to +the Homeric epithet of _ἀφνειός_, as applied to Corinth, as a proof of +the early commercial prosperity of that city; to the fact of the generic +name _Hellenes_ not occurring in the _Iliad_ as a corroboration of his +theory of the essentially disunited character of the primitive Greek +tribes; and he argues from the line ‘O’er many islands and all Argos +ruled,’ as applied to Agamemnon, that his forces must have been partially +naval, ‘for Agamemnon’s was a continental power, and he could not have +been master of any but the adjacent islands, and these would not be many +but through the possession of a fleet.’ + +Anticipating in some measure the comparative method of research, he +argues from the fact of the more barbarous Greek tribes, such as the +Ætolians and Acarnanians, still carrying arms in his own day, that this +custom was the case originally over the whole country. ‘The fact,’ he +says, ‘that the people in these parts of Hellas are still living in the +old way points to a time when the same mode of life was equally common to +all.’ Similarly, in another passage, he shows how a corroboration of his +theory of the respectable character of piracy in ancient days is afforded +by ‘the honour with which some of the inhabitants of the continent still +regard a successful marauder,’ as well as by the fact that the question, +‘Are you a pirate?’ is a common feature of primitive society as shown in +the poets; and finally, after observing how the old Greek custom of +wearing belts in gymnastic contests still survived among the more +uncivilised Asiatic tribes, he observes that there are many other points +in which a likeness may be shown between the life of the primitive +Hellenes and that of the barbarians to-day.’ + +As regards the evidence afforded by ancient remains, while adducing as a +proof of the insecure character of early Greek society the fact of their +cities {31} being always built at some distance from the sea, yet he is +careful to warn us, and the caution ought to be borne in mind by all +archæologists, that we have no right to conclude from the scanty remains +of any city that its legendary greatness in primitive times was a mere +exaggeration. ‘We are not justified,’ he says, ‘in rejecting the +tradition of the magnitude of the Trojan armament, because Mycenæ and the +other towns of that age seem to us small and insignificant. For, if +Lacedæmon was to become desolate, any antiquarian judging merely from its +ruins would be inclined to regard the tale of the Spartan hegemony as an +idle myth; for the city is a mere collection of villages after the old +fashion of Hellas, and has none of those splendid public buildings and +temples which characterise Athens, and whose remains, in the case of the +latter city, would be so marvellous as to lead the superficial observer +into an exaggerated estimate of the Athenian power.’ Nothing can be more +scientific than the archæological canons laid down, whose truth is +strikingly illustrated to any one who has compared the waste fields of +the Eurotas plain with the lordly monuments of the Athenian acropolis. +{32} + +On the other hand, Thucydides is quite conscious of the value of the +positive evidence afforded by archæological remains. He appeals, for +instance, to the character of the armour found in the Delian tombs and +the peculiar mode of sepulture, as corroboration of his theory of the +predominance of the Carian element among the primitive islanders, and to +the concentration of all the temples either in the Acropolis, or in its +immediate vicinity, to the name of _ἄστυ_ by which it was still known, +and to the extraordinary sanctity of the spring of water there, as proof +that the primitive city was originally confined to the citadel, and the +district immediately beneath it (ii. 16). And lastly, in the very +opening of his history, anticipating one of the most scientific of modern +methods, he points out how in early states of civilisation immense +fertility of the soil tends to favour the personal aggrandisement of +individuals, and so to stop the normal progress of the country through +‘the rise of factions, that endless source of ruin’; and also by the +allurements it offers to a foreign invader, to necessitate a continual +change of population, one immigration following on another. He +exemplifies his theory by pointing to the endless political revolutions +that characterised Arcadia, Thessaly and Boeotia, the three richest spots +in Greece, as well as by the negative instance of the undisturbed state +in primitive time of Attica, which was always remarkable for the dryness +and poverty of its soil. + +Now, while undoubtedly in these passages we may recognise the first +anticipation of many of the most modern principles of research, we must +remember how essentially limited is the range of the _archæologia_, and +how no theory at all is offered on the wider questions of the general +conditions of the rise and progress of humanity, a problem which is first +scientifically discussed in the _Republic_ of Plato. + +And at the outset it must be premised that, while the study of primitive +man is an essentially inductive science, resting rather on the +accumulation of evidence than on speculation, among the Greeks it was +prosecuted rather on deductive principles. Thucydides did, indeed, avail +himself of the opportunities afforded by the unequal development of +civilisation in his own day in Greece, and in the places I have pointed +out seems to have anticipated the comparative method. But we do not find +later writers availing themselves of the wonderfully accurate and +picturesque accounts given by Herodotus of the customs of savage tribes. +To take one instance, which bears a good deal on modern questions, we +find in the works of this great traveller the gradual and progressive +steps in the development of the family life clearly manifested in the +mere gregarious herding together of the Agathyrsi, their primitive +kinsmanship through women in common, and the rise of a feeling of +paternity from a state of polyandry. This tribe stood at that time on +that borderland between umbilical relationship and the family which has +been such a difficult point for modern anthropologists to find. + +The ancient authors, however, are unanimous in insisting that the family +is the ultimate unit of society, though, as I have said, an inductive +study of primitive races, or even the accounts given of them by +Herodotus, would have shown them that the _νεοττιὰ ἴδια_ of a personal +household, to use Plato’s expression, is really a most complex notion +appearing always in a late stage of civilisation, along with recognition +of private property and the rights of individualism. + +Philology also, which in the hands of modern investigators has proved +such a splendid instrument of research, was in ancient days studied on +principles too unscientific to be of much use. Herodotus points out that +the word _Eridanos_ is essentially Greek in character, that consequently +the river supposed to run round the world is probably a mere Greek +invention. His remarks, however, on language generally, as in the case +of _Piromis_ and the ending of the Persian names, show on what unsound +basis his knowledge of language rested. + +In the _Bacchæ_ of Euripides there is an extremely interesting passage in +which the immoral stories of the Greek mythology are accounted for on the +principle of that misunderstanding of words and metaphors to which modern +science has given the name of a disease of language. In answer to the +impious rationalism of Pentheus—a sort of modern Philistine—Teiresias, +who may be termed the Max Müller of the Theban cycle, points out that the +story of Dionysus being inclosed in Zeus’ thigh really arose from the +linguistic confusion between _μηρός_ and _ὅμηρος_. + +On the whole, however—for I have quoted these two instances only to show +the unscientific character of early philology—we may say that this +important instrument in recreating the history of the past was not really +used by the ancients as a means of historical criticism. Nor did the +ancients employ that other method, used to such advantage in our own day, +by which in the symbolism and formulas of an advanced civilisation we can +detect the unconscious survival of ancient customs: for, whereas in the +sham capture of the bride at a marriage feast, which was common in Wales +till a recent time, we can discern the lingering reminiscence of the +barbarous habit of exogamy, the ancient writers saw only the deliberate +commemoration of an historical event. + +Aristotle does not tell us by what method he discovered that the Greeks +used to buy their wives in primitive times, but, judging by his general +principles, it was probably through some legend or myth on the subject +which lasted to his own day, and not, as we would do, by arguing back +from the marriage presents given to the bride and her relatives. {37} + +The origin of the common proverb ‘worth so many beeves,’ in which we +discern the unconscious survival of a purely pastoral state of society +before the use of metals was known, is ascribed by Plutarch to the fact +of Theseus having coined money bearing a bull’s head. Similarly, the +Amathusian festival, in which a young man imitated the labours of a woman +in travail, is regarded by him as a rite instituted in Ariadne’s honour, +and the Carian adoration of asparagus as a simple commemoration of the +adventure of the nymph Perigune. In the first of these _we_ discern the +beginning of agnation and kinsmanship through the father, which still +lingers in the ‘couvee’ of New Zealand tribes: while the second is a +relic of the totem and fetish worship of plants. + +Now, in entire opposition to this modern inductive principle of research +stands the philosophic Plato, whose account of primitive man is entirely +speculative and deductive. + +The origin of society he ascribes to necessity, the mother of all +inventions, and imagines that individual man began deliberately to herd +together on account of the advantages of the principle of division of +labour and the rendering of mutual need. + +It must, however, be borne in mind that Plato’s object in this whole +passage in the _Republic_ was, perhaps, not so much to analyse the +conditions of early society as to illustrate the importance of the +division of labour, the shibboleth of his political economy, by showing +what a powerful factor it must have been in the most primitive as well as +in the most complex states of society; just as in the _Laws_ he almost +rewrites entirely the history of the Peloponnesus in order to prove the +necessity of a balance of power. He surely, I mean, must have recognised +himself how essentially incomplete his theory was in taking no account of +the origin of family life, the position and influence of women, and other +social questions, as well as in disregarding those deeper motives of +religion, which are such important factors in early civilisation, and +whose influence Aristotle seems to have clearly apprehended, when he says +that the aim of primitive society was not merely life but the higher +life, and that in the origin of society utility is not the sole motive, +but that there is something spiritual in it if, at least, ‘spiritual’ +will bring out the meaning of that complex expression _τὸ καλόν_. +Otherwise, the whole account in the _Republic_ of primitive man will +always remain as a warning against the intrusion of _a priori_ +speculations in the domain appropriate to induction. + +Now, Aristotle’s theory of the origin of society, like his philosophy of +ethics, rests ultimately on the principle of final causes, not in the +theological meaning of an aim or tendency imposed from without, but in +the scientific sense of function corresponding to organ. ‘Nature maketh +no thing in vain’ is the text of Aristotle in this as in other inquiries. +Man being the only animal possessed of the power of rational speech is, +he asserts, by nature intended to be social, more so than the bee or any +other gregarious animal. + +He is _φύσει πολιτικός_, and the national tendency towards higher forms +of perfection brings the ‘armed savage who used to sell his wife’ to the +free independence of a free state, and to the _ἰσότης τοῦ ἄρχειν καὶ τοῦ +ἄρχεσθαι_, which was the test of true citizenship. The stages passed +through by humanity start with the family first as the ultimate unit. + +The conglomeration of families forms a village ruled by that patriarchal +sway which is the oldest form of government in the world, as is shown by +the fact that all men count it to be the constitution of heaven, and the +villages are merged into the state, and here the progression stops. + +For Aristotle, like all Greek thinkers, found his ideal within the walls +of the _πόλις_, yet perhaps in his remark that a united Greece would rule +the world we may discern some anticipation of that ‘federal union of free +states into one consolidated empire’ which, more than the _πόλις_, is to +our eyes the ultimately perfect polity. + +How far Aristotle was justified in regarding the family as the ultimate +unit, with the materials afforded to him by Greek literature, I have +already noticed. Besides, Aristotle, I may remark, had he reflected on +the meaning of that Athenian law which, while prohibiting marriage with a +uterine sister, permitted it with a sister-german, or on the common +tradition in Athens that before the time of Cecrops children bore their +mothers’ names, or on some of the Spartan regulations, could hardly have +failed to see the universality of kinsmanship through women in early +days, and the late appearance of monandry. Yet, while he missed this +point, in common, it must be acknowledged, with many modern writers, such +as Sir Henry Maine, it is essentially as an explorer of inductive +instances that we recognise his improvement on Plato. The treatise _περὶ +πολιτείων_, did it remain to us in its entirety, would have been one of +the most valuable landmarks in the progress of historical criticism, and +the first scientific treatise on the science of comparative politics. + +A few fragments still remain to us, in one of which we find Aristotle +appealing to the authority of an ancient inscription on the ‘Disk of +Iphitus,’ one of the most celebrated Greek antiquities, to corroborate +his theory of the Lycurgean revival of the Olympian festival; while his +enormous research is evinced in the elaborate explanation he gives of the +historical origin of proverbs such as _οὐδεῖς μέγας κακὸς ἰχθῦς_, of +religious songs like the _ἰῶμεν ἐς Ἀθήνας_ of the Botticean virgins, or +the praises of love and war. + +And, finally, it is to be observed how much wider than Plato’s his theory +of the origin of society is. They both rest on a psychological basis, +but Aristotle’s recognition of the capacity for progress and the tendency +towards a higher life shows how much deeper his knowledge of human nature +was. + +In imitation of these two philosophers, Polybius gives an account of the +origin of society in the opening to his philosophy of history. Somewhat +in the spirit of Plato, he imagines that after one of the cyclic deluges +which sweep off mankind at stated periods and annihilate all pre-existing +civilisation, the few surviving members of humanity coalesce for mutual +protection, and, as in the case with ordinary animals, the one most +remarkable for physical strength is elected king. In a short time, owing +to the workings of sympathy and the desire of approbation, the moral +qualities begin to make their appearance, and intellectual instead of +bodily excellence becomes the qualification for sovereignty. + +Other points, as the rise of law and the like, are dwelt on in a somewhat +modern spirit, and although Polybius seems not to have employed the +inductive method of research in this question, or rather, I should say, +of the hierarchical order of the rational progress of ideas in life, he +is not far removed from what the laborious investigations of modern +travellers have given us. + +And, indeed, as regards the working of the speculative faculty in the +creation of history, it is in all respects marvellous how that the most +truthful accounts of the passage from barbarism to civilisation in +ancient literature come from the works of poets. The elaborate +researches of Mr. Tylor and Sir John Lubbock have done little more than +verify the theories put forward in the _Prometheus Bound_ and the _De +Natura Rerum_; yet neither Æschylus nor Lucretias followed in the modern +path, but rather attained to truth by a certain almost mystic power of +creative imagination, such as we now seek to banish from science as a +dangerous power, though to it science seems to owe many of its most +splendid generalities. {43} + +Leaving then the question of the origin of society as treated by the +ancients, I shall now turn to the other and the more important question +of how far they may he said to have attained to what we call the +philosophy of history. + +Now at the outset we must note that, while the conceptions of law and +order have been universally received as the governing principles of the +phenomena of nature in the sphere of physical science, yet their +intrusion into the domain of history and the life of man has always been +met with a strong opposition, on the ground of the incalculable nature of +two great forces acting on human action, a certain causeless spontaneity +which men call free will, and the extra-natural interference which they +attribute as a constant attribute to God. + +Now, that there is a science of the apparently variable phenomena of +history is a conception which _we_ have perhaps only recently begun to +appreciate; yet, like all other great thoughts, it seems to have come to +the Greek mind spontaneously, through a certain splendour of imagination, +in the morning tide of their civilisation, before inductive research had +armed them with the instruments of verification. For I think it is +possible to discern in some of the mystic speculations of the early Greek +thinkers that desire to discover what is that ‘invariable existence of +which there are variable states,’ and to incorporate it in some one +formula of law which may serve to explain the different manifestations of +all organic bodies, _man included_, which is the germ of the philosophy +of history; the germ indeed of an idea of which it is not too much to say +that on it any kind of historical criticism, worthy of the name, must +ultimately rest. + +For the very first requisite for any scientific conception of history is +the doctrine of uniform sequence: in other words, that certain events +having happened, certain other events corresponding to them will happen +also; that the past is the key of the future. + +Now at the birth of this great conception science, it is true, presided, +yet religion it was which at the outset clothed it in its own garb, and +familiarised men with it by appealing to their hearts first and then to +their intellects; knowing that at the beginning of things it is through +the moral nature, and not through the intellectual, that great truths are +spread. + +So in Herodotus, who may be taken as a representative of the orthodox +tone of thought, the idea of the uniform sequence of cause and effect +appears under the theological aspect of Nemesis and Providence, which is +really the scientific conception of law, only it is viewed from an +_ethical_ standpoint. + +Now in Thucydides the philosophy of history rests on the probability, +which the uniformity of human nature affords us, that the future will in +the course of human things resemble the past, if not reproduce it. He +appears to contemplate a recurrence of the phenomena of history as +equally certain with a return of the epidemic of the Great Plague. + +Notwithstanding what German critics have written on the subject, we must +beware of regarding this conception as a mere reproduction of that cyclic +theory of events which sees in the world nothing but the regular rotation +of Strophe and Antistrophe, in the eternal choir of life and death. + +For, in his remarks on the excesses of the Corcyrean Revolution, +Thucydides distinctly rests his idea of the recurrence of history on the +psychological grounds of the general sameness of mankind. + +‘The sufferings,’ he says, ‘which revolution entailed upon the cities +were many and terrible, such as have occurred and always will occurs as +long as human nature remains the same, though in a severer or milder +form, and varying in their symptoms according to the variety of the +particular cases. + +‘In peace and prosperity states and individuals have better sentiments, +because they are not confronted with imperious necessities; but war takes +away the easy supply of men’s wants, and so proves a hard taskmaster, +which brings most men’s characters to a level with their fortunes.’ + + + +IV + + +IT is evident that here Thucydides is ready to admit the variety of +manifestations which external causes bring about in their workings on the +uniform character of the nature of man. Yet, after all is said, these +are perhaps but very general statements: the ordinary effects of peace +and war are dwelt on, but there is no real analysis of the immediate +causes and general laws of the phenomena of life, nor does Thucydides +seem to recognise the truth that if humanity proceeds in circles, the +circles are always widening. + +Perhaps we may say that with him the philosophy of history is partly in +the metaphysical stage, and see, in the progress of this idea from +Herodotus to Polybius, the exemplification of the Comtian Law of the +three stages of thought, the theological, the metaphysical, and the +scientific: for truly out of the vagueness of theological mysticism this +conception which we call the Philosophy of History was raised to a +scientific principle, according to which the past was explained and the +future predicted by reference to general laws. + +Now, just as the earliest account of the nature of the progress of +humanity is to be found in Plato, so in him we find the first explicit +attempt to found a universal philosophy of history upon wide rational +grounds. Having created an ideally perfect state, the philosopher +proceeds to give an elaborate theory of the complex causes which produce +revolutions, of the moral effects of various forms of government and +education, of the rise of the criminal classes and their connection with +pauperism, and, in a word, to create history by the deductive method and +to proceed from _a priori_ psychological principles to discover the +governing laws of the apparent chaos of political life. + +There have been many attempts since Plato to deduce from a single +philosophical principle all the phenomena which experience subsequently +verifies for us. Fichte thought he could predict the world-plan from the +idea of universal time. Hegel dreamed he had found the key to the +mysteries of life in the development of freedom, and Krause in the +categories of being. But the one scientific basis on which the true +philosophy of history must rest is the complete knowledge of the laws of +human nature in all its wants, its aspirations, its powers and its +tendencies: and this great truth, which Thucydides may be said in some +measure to have apprehended, was given to us first by Plato. + +Now, it cannot be accurately said of this philosopher that either his +philosophy or his history is entirely and simply _a priori_. _On est de +son siècle même quand on y proteste_, and so we find in him continual +references to the Spartan mode of life, the Pythagorean system, the +general characteristics of Greek tyrannies and Greek democracies. For +while, in his account of the method of forming an ideal state, he says +that the political artist is indeed to fix his gaze on the sun of +abstract truth in the heavens of the pure reason, but is sometimes to +turn to the realisation of the ideals on earth: yet, after all, the +general character of the Platonic method, which is what we are specially +concerned with, is essentially deductive and _a priori_. And he himself, +in the building up of his Nephelococcygia, certainly starts with a +_καθαρὸς πίναξ_, making a clean sweep of all history and all experience; +and it was essentially as an _a priori_ theorist that he is criticised by +Aristotle, as we shall see later. + +To proceed to closer details regarding the actual scheme of the laws of +political revolutions as drawn out by Plato, we must first note that the +primary cause of the decay of the ideal state is the general principle, +common to the vegetable and animal worlds as well as to the world of +history, that all created things are fated to decay—a principle which, +though expressed in the terms of a mere metaphysical abstraction, is yet +perhaps in its essence scientific. For we too must hold that a +continuous redistribution of matter and motion is the inevitable result +of the nominal persistence of Force, and that perfect equilibrium is as +impossible in politics as it certainly is in physics. + +The secondary causes which mar the perfection of the Platonic ‘city of +the sun’ are to be found in the intellectual decay of the race consequent +on injudicious marriages and in the Philistine elevation of physical +achievements over mental culture; while the hierarchical succession of +Timocracy and Oligarchy, Democracy and Tyranny, is dwelt on at great +length and its causes analysed in a very dramatic and psychological +manner, if not in that sanctioned by the actual order of history. + +And indeed it is apparent at first sight that the Platonic succession of +states represents rather the succession of ideas in the philosophic mind +than any historical succession of time. + +Aristotle meets the whole simply by an appeal to facts. If the theory of +the periodic decay of all created things, he urges, be scientific, it +must be universal, and so true of all the other states as well as of the +ideal. Besides, a state usually changes into its contrary and not to the +form next to it; so the ideal state would not change into Timocracy; +while Oligarchy, more often than Tyranny, succeeds Democracy. Plato, +besides, says nothing of what a Tyranny would change to. According to +the cycle theory it ought to pass into the ideal state again, but as a +fact one Tyranny is changed into another as at Sicyon, or into a +Democracy as at Syracuse, or into an Aristocracy as at Carthage. The +example of Sicily, too, shows that an Oligarchy is often followed by a +Tyranny, as at Leontini and Gela. Besides, it is absurd to represent +greed as the chief motive of decay, or to talk of avarice as the root of +Oligarchy, when in nearly all true oligarchies money-making is forbidden +by law. And finally the Platonic theory neglects the different kinds of +democracies and of tyrannies. + +Now nothing can be more important than this passage in Aristotle’s +_Politics_ (_v._ 12.), which may he said to mark an era in the evolution +of historical criticism. For there is nothing on which Aristotle insists +so strongly as that the generalisations from facts ought to be added to +the data of the _a priori_ method—a principle which we know to be true +not merely of deductive speculative politics but of physics also: for are +not the residual phenomena of chemists a valuable source of improvement +in theory? + +His own method is essentially historical though by no means empirical. +On the contrary, this far-seeing thinker, rightly styled _il maestro di +color che sanno_, may be said to have apprehended clearly that the true +method is neither exclusively empirical nor exclusively speculative, but +rather a union of both in the process called Analysis or the +Interpretation of Facts, which has been defined as the application to +facts of such general conceptions as may fix the important +characteristics of the phenomena, and present them permanently in their +true relations. He too was the first to point out, what even in our own +day is incompletely appreciated, that nature, including the development +of man, is not full of incoherent episodes like a bad tragedy, that +inconsistency and anomaly are as impossible in the moral as they are in +the physical world, and that where the superficial observer thinks he +sees a revolution the philosophical critic discerns merely the gradual +and rational evolution of the inevitable results of certain antecedents. + +And while admitting the necessity of a psychological basis for the +philosophy of history, he added to it the important truth that man, to be +apprehended in his proper position in the universe as well as in his +natural powers, must be studied from below in the hierarchical +progression of higher function from the lower forms of life. The +important maxim, that to obtain a clear conception of anything we must +‘study it in its growth from the very beginning,’ is formally set down in +the opening of the _Politics_, where, indeed, we shall find the other +characteristic features of the modern Evolutionary theory, such as the +‘Differentiation of Function’ and the ‘Survival of the Fittest’ +explicitly set forth. + +What a valuable step this was in the improvement of the method of +historical criticism it is needless to point out. By it, one may say, +the true thread was given to guide one’s steps through the bewildering +labyrinth of facts. For history (to use terms with which Aristotle has +made us familiar) may be looked at from two essentially different +standpoints; either as a work of art whose _τέλος_ or final cause is +external to it and imposed on it from without; or as an organism +containing the law of its own development in itself, and working out its +perfection merely by the fact of being what it is. Now, if we adopt the +former, which we may style the theological view, we shall be in continual +danger of tripping into the pitfall of some _a priori_ conclusion—that +bourne from which, it has been truly said, no traveller ever returns. + +The latter is the only scientific theory and was apprehended in its +fulness by Aristotle, whose application of the inductive method to +history, and whose employment of the evolutionary theory of humanity, +show that he was conscious that the philosophy of history is nothing +separate from the facts of history but is contained in them, and that the +rational law of the complex phenomena of life, like the ideal in the +world of thought, is to be reached through the facts, not superimposed on +them—_κατὰ πολλῶν_ not _παρὰ πολλά_. + +And finally, in estimating the enormous debt which the science of +historical criticism owes to Aristotle, we must not pass over his +attitude towards those two great difficulties in the formation of a +philosophy of history on which I have touched above. I mean the +assertion of extra-natural interference with the normal development of +the world and of the incalculable influence exercised by the power of +free will. + +Now, as regards the former, he may be said to have neglected it entirely. +The special acts of providence proceeding from God’s immediate government +of the world, which Herodotus saw as mighty landmarks in history, would +have been to him essentially disturbing elements in that universal reign +of law, the extent of whose limitless empire he of all the great thinkers +of antiquity was the first explicitly to recognise. + +Standing aloof from the popular religion as well as from the deeper +conceptions of Herodotus and the Tragic School, he no longer thought of +God as of one with fair limbs and treacherous face haunting wood and +glade, nor would he see in him a jealous judge continually interfering in +the world’s history to bring the wicked to punishment and the proud to a +fall. God to him was the incarnation of the pure Intellect, a being +whose activity was the contemplation of his own perfection, one whom +Philosophy might imitate but whom prayers could never move, to the +sublime indifference of whose passionless wisdom what were the sons of +men, their desires or their sins? While, as regards the other difficulty +and the formation of a philosophy of history, the conflict of free will +with general laws appears first in Greek thought in the usual theological +form in which all great ideas seem to be cradled at their birth. + +It was such legends as those of Œdipus and Adrastus, exemplifying the +struggles of individual humanity against the overpowering force of +circumstances and necessity, which gave to the early Greeks those same +lessons which we of modern days draw, in somewhat less artistic fashion, +from the study of statistics and the laws of physiology. + +In Aristotle, of course, there is no trace of supernatural influence. +The Furies, which drive their victim into sin first and then punishment, +are no longer ‘viper-tressed goddesses with eyes and mouth aflame,’ but +those evil thoughts which harbour within the impure soul. In this, as in +all other points, to arrive at Aristotle is to reach the pure atmosphere +of scientific and modern thought. + +But while he rejected pure necessitarianism in its crude form as +essentially a _reductio ad absurdum_ of life, he was fully conscious of +the fact that the will is not a mysterious and ultimate unit of force +beyond which we cannot go and whose special characteristic is +inconsistency, but a certain creative attitude of the mind which is, from +the first, continually influenced by habits, education and circumstance; +so absolutely modifiable, in a word, that the good and the bad man alike +seem to lose the power of free will; for the one is morally unable to +sin, the other physically incapacitated for reformation. + +And of the influence of climate and temperature in forming the nature of +man (a conception perhaps pressed too far in modern days when the ‘race +theory’ is supposed to be a sufficient explanation of the Hindoo, and the +latitude and longitude of a country the best guide to its morals {57}) +Aristotle is completely unaware. I do not allude to such smaller points +as the oligarchical tendencies of a horse-breeding country and the +democratic influence of the proximity of the sea (important though they +are for the consideration of Greek history), but rather to those wider +views in the seventh book of his _Politics_, where he attributes the +happy union in the Greek character of intellectual attainments with the +spirit of progress to the temperate climate they enjoyed, and points out +how the extreme cold of the north dulls the mental faculties of its +inhabitants and renders them incapable of social organisation or extended +empire; while to the enervating heat of eastern countries was due that +want of spirit and bravery which then, as now, was the characteristic of +the population in that quarter of the globe. + +Thucydides has shown the causal connection between political revolutions +and the fertility of the soil, but goes a step farther and points out the +psychological influences on a people’s character exercised by the various +extremes of climate—in both cases the first appearance of a most valuable +form of historical criticism. + +To the development of Dialectic, as to God, intervals of time are of no +account. From Plato and Aristotle we pass direct to Polybius. + +The progress of thought from the philosopher of the Academe to the +Arcadian historian may be best illustrated by a comparison of the method +by which each of the three writers, whom I have selected as the highest +expression of the rationalism of his respective age, attained to his +ideal state: for the latter conception may be in a measure regarded as +representing the most spiritual principle which they could discern in +history. + +Now, Plato created his on _a priori_ principles; Aristotle formed his by +an analysis of existing constitutions; Polybius found his realised for +him in the actual world of fact. Aristotle criticised the deductive +speculations of Plato by means of inductive negative instances, but +Polybius will not take the ‘Cloud City’ of the _Republic_ into account at +all. He compares it to an athlete who has never run on ‘Constitution +Hill,’ to a statue so beautiful that it is entirely removed from the +ordinary conditions of humanity, and consequently from the canons of +criticism. + +The Roman state had attained in his eyes, by means of the mutual +counteraction of three opposing forces, {59} that stable equilibrium in +politics which was the ideal of all the theoretical writers of antiquity. +And in connection with this point it will be convenient to notice here +how much truth there is contained in the accusation often brought against +the ancients that they knew nothing of the idea of Progress, for the +meaning of many of their speculations will be hidden from us if we do not +try and comprehend first what their aim was, and secondly why it was so. + +Now, like all wide generalities, this statement is at least inaccurate. +The prayer of Plato’s ideal City—_ἐξ ἀγαθῶν ἀμείνους_, _καὶ ἐξ ὠφελιμῶν +ὠφελιμωτέρους ἀεὶ τοὺς ἐκγόνους γίγνεσθαι_, might be written as a text +over the door of the last Temple to Humanity raised by the disciples of +Fourier and Saint-Simon, but it is certainly true that their ideal +principle was order and permanence, not indefinite progress. For, +setting aside the artistic prejudices which would have led the Greeks to +reject this idea of unlimited improvement, we may note that the modern +conception of progress rests partly on the new enthusiasm and worship of +humanity, partly on the splendid hopes of material improvements in +civilisation which applied science has held out to us, two influences +from which ancient Greek thought seems to have been strangely free. For +the Greeks marred the perfect humanism of the great men whom they +worshipped, by imputing to them divinity and its supernatural powers; +while their science was eminently speculative and often almost mystic in +its character, aiming at culture and not utility, at higher spirituality +and more intense reverence for law, rather than at the increased +facilities of locomotion and the cheap production of common things about +which our modern scientific school ceases not to boast. And lastly, and +perhaps chiefly, we must remember that the ‘plague spot of all Greek +states,’ as one of their own writers has called it, was the terrible +insecurity to life and property which resulted from the factions and +revolutions which ceased not to trouble Greece at all times, raising a +spirit of fanaticism such as religion raised in the middle ages of +Europe. + +These considerations, then, will enable us to understand first how it was +that, radical and unscrupulous reformers as the Greek political theorists +were, yet, their end once attained, no modern conservatives raised such +outcry against the slightest innovation. Even acknowledged improvements +in such things as the games of children or the modes of music were +regarded by them with feelings of extreme apprehension as the herald of +the _drapeau rouge_ of reform. And secondly, it will show us how it was +that Polybius found his ideal in the commonwealth of Rome, and Aristotle, +like Mr. Bright, in the middle classes. Polybius, however, is not +content merely with pointing out his ideal state, but enters at +considerable length into the question of those general laws whose +consideration forms the chief essential of the philosophy of history. + +He starts by accepting the general principle that all things are fated to +decay (which I noticed in the case of Plato), and that ‘as iron produces +rust and as wood breeds the animals that destroy it, so every state has +in it the seeds of its own corruption.’ He is not, however, content to +rest there, but proceeds to deal with the more immediate causes of +revolutions, which he says are twofold in nature, either external or +internal. Now, the former, depending as they do on the synchronous +conjunction of other events outside the sphere of scientific estimation, +are from their very character incalculable; but the latter, though +assuming many forms, always result from the over-great preponderance of +any single element to the detriment of the others, the rational law lying +at the base of all varieties of political changes being that stability +can result only from the statical equilibrium produced by the +counteraction of opposing parts, since the more simple a constitution is +the more it is insecure. Plato had pointed out before how the extreme +liberty of a democracy always resulted in despotism, but Polybius +analyses the law and shows the scientific principles on which it rests. + +The doctrine of the instability of pure constitutions forms an important +era in the philosophy of history. Its special applicability to the +politics of our own day has been illustrated in the rise of the great +Napoleon, when the French state had lost those divisions of caste and +prejudice, of landed aristocracy and moneyed interest, institutions in +which the vulgar see only barriers to Liberty but which are indeed the +only possible defences against the coming of that periodic Sirius of +politics, the _τύραννος ἐκ προστατικῆς ῥίζης_. + +There is a principle which Tocqueville never wearies of explaining, and +which has been subsumed by Mr. Herbert Spencer under that general law +common to all organic bodies which we call the Instability of the +Homogeneous. The various manifestations of this law, as shown in the +normal, regular revolutions and evolutions of the different forms of +government, {63a} are expounded with great clearness by Polybius, who +claimed for his theory, in the Thucydidean spirit, that it is a _κτῆμα ἐς +ἀεί_, not a mere _ἀγώνισμα ἐς τὸ παραχρῆμα_, and that a knowledge of it +will enable the impartial observer {63b} to discover at any time what +period of its constitutional evolution any particular state has already +reached and into what form it will be next differentiated, though +possibly the exact time of the changes may be more or less uncertain. +{63c} + +Now in this necessarily incomplete account of the laws of political +revolutions as expounded by Polybius enough perhaps has been said to show +what is his true position in the rational development of the ‘Idea’ which +I have called the Philosophy of History, because it is the unifying of +history. Seen darkly as it is through the glass of religion in the pages +of Herodotus, more metaphysical than scientific with Thucydides, Plato +strove to seize it by the eagle-flight of speculation, to reach it with +the eager grasp of a soul impatient of those slower and surer inductive +methods which Aristotle, in his trenchant criticism of his greater +master, showed were more brilliant than any vague theory, if the test of +brilliancy is truth. + +What then is the position of Polybius? Does any new method remain for +him? Polybius was one of those many men who are born too late to be +original. To Thucydides belongs the honour of being the first in the +history of Greek thought to discern the supreme calm of law and order +underlying the fitful storms of life, and Plato and Aristotle each +represents a great new principle. To Polybius belongs the office—how +noble an office he made it his writings show—of making more explicit the +ideas which were implicit in his predecessors, of showing that they were +of wider applicability and perhaps of deeper meaning than they had seemed +before, of examining with more minuteness the laws which they had +discovered, and finally of pointing out more clearly than any one had +done the range of science and the means it offered for analysing the +present and predicting what was to come. His office thus was to gather +up what they had left, to give their principles new life by a wider +application. + +Polybius ends this great diapason of Greek thought. When the Philosophy +of history appears next, as in Plutarch’s tract on ‘Why God’s anger is +delayed,’ the pendulum of thought had swung back to where it began. His +theory was introduced to the Romans under the cultured style of Cicero, +and was welcomed by them as the philosophical panegyric of their state. +The last notice of it in Latin literature is in the pages of Tacitus, who +alludes to the stable polity formed out of these elements as a +constitution easier to commend than to produce and in no case lasting. +Yet Polybius had seen the future with no uncertain eye, and had +prophesied the rise of the Empire from the unbalanced power of the +ochlocracy fifty years and more before there was joy in the Julian +household over the birth of that boy who, born to power as the champion +of the people, died wearing the purple of a king. + +No attitude of historical criticism is more important than the means by +which the ancients attained to the philosophy of history. The principle +of heredity can be exemplified in literature as well as in organic life: +Aristotle, Plato and Polybius are the lineal ancestors of Fichte and +Hegel, of Vico and Cousin, of Montesquieu and Tocqueville. + +As my aim is not to give an account of historians but to point out those +great thinkers whose methods have furthered the advance of this spirit of +historical criticism, I shall pass over those annalists and chroniclers +who intervened between Thucydides and Polybius. Yet perhaps it may serve +to throw new light on the real nature of this spirit and its intimate +connection with all other forms of advanced thought if I give some +estimate of the character and rise of those many influences prejudicial +to the scientific study of history which cause such a wide gap between +these two historians. + +Foremost among these is the growing influence of rhetoric and the +Isocratean school, which seems to have regarded history as an arena for +the display either of pathos or paradoxes, not a scientific investigation +into laws. + +The new age is the age of style. The same spirit of exclusive attention +to form which made Euripides often, like Swinburne, prefer music to +meaning and melody to morality, which gave to the later Greek statues +that refined effeminacy, that overstrained gracefulness of attitude, was +felt in the sphere of history. The rules laid down for historical +composition are those relating to the æsthetic value of digressions, the +legality of employing more than one metaphor in the same sentence, and +the like; and historians are ranked not by their power of estimating +evidence but by the goodness of the Greek they write. + +I must note also the important influence on literature exercised by +Alexander the Great; for while his travels encouraged the more accurate +research of geography, the very splendour of his achievements seems to +have brought history again into the sphere of romance. The appearance of +all great men in the world is followed invariably by the rise of that +mythopœic spirit and that tendency to look for the marvellous, which is +so fatal to true historical criticism. An Alexander, a Napoleon, a +Francis of Assisi and a Mahomet are thought to be outside the limiting +conditions of rational law, just as comets were supposed to be not very +long ago. While the founding of that city of Alexandria, in which +Western and Eastern thought met with such strange result to both, +diverted the critical tendencies of the Greek spirit into questions of +grammar, philology and the like, the narrow, artificial atmosphere of +that University town (as we may call it) was fatal to the development of +that independent and speculative spirit of research which strikes out new +methods of inquiry, of which historical criticism is one. + +The Alexandrines combined a great love of learning with an ignorance of +the true principles of research, an enthusiastic spirit for accumulating +materials with a wonderful incapacity to use them. Not among the hot +sands of Egypt, or the Sophists of Athens, but from the very heart of +Greece rises the man of genius on whose influence in the evolution of the +philosophy of history I have a short time ago dwelt. Born in the serene +and pure air of the clear uplands of Arcadia, Polybius may be said to +reproduce in his work the character of the place which gave him birth. +For, of all the historians—I do not say of antiquity but of all time—none +is more rationalistic than he, none more free from any belief in the +‘visions and omens, the monstrous legends, the grovelling superstitions +and unmanly craving for the supernatural’ (_δεισιδαιμονίας ἀγεννοῦς καὶ +τερατείας γυναικώδους_ {68}) which he himself is compelled to notice as +the characteristics of some of the historians who preceded him. +Fortunate in the land which bore him, he was no less blessed in the +wondrous time of his birth. For, representing in himself the spiritual +supremacy of the Greek intellect and allied in bonds of chivalrous +friendship to the world-conqueror of his day, he seems led as it were by +the hand of Fate ‘to comprehend,’ as has been said, ‘more clearly than +the Romans themselves the historical position of Rome,’ and to discern +with greater insight than all other men could those two great resultants +of ancient civilisation, the material empire of the city of the seven +hills, and the intellectual sovereignty of Hellas. + +Before his own day, he says, {69a} the events of the world were +unconnected and separate and the histories confined to particular +countries. Now, for the first time the universal empire of the Romans +rendered a universal history possible. {69b} This, then, is the august +motive of his work: to trace the gradual rise of this Italian city from +the day when the first legion crossed the narrow strait of Messina and +landed on the fertile fields of Sicily to the time when Corinth in the +East and Carthage in the West fell before the resistless wave of empire +and the eagles of Rome passed on the wings of universal victory from +Calpe and the Pillars of Hercules to Syria and the Nile. At the same +time he recognised that the scheme of Rome’s empire was worked out under +the ægis of God’s will. {69c} For, as one of the Middle Age scribes most +truly says, the _τύχη_ of Polybius is that power which we Christians call +God; the second aim, as one may call it, of his history is to point out +the rational and human and natural causes which brought this result, +distinguishing, as we should say, between God’s mediate and immediate +government of the world. + +With any direct intervention of God in the normal development of Man, he +will have nothing to do: still less with any idea of chance as a factor +in the phenomena of life. Chance and miracles, he says, are mere +expressions for our ignorance of rational causes. The spirit of +rationalism which we recognised in Herodotus as a vague uncertain +attitude and which appears in Thucydides as a consistent attitude of mind +never argued about or even explained, is by Polybius analysed and +formulated as the great instrument of historical research. + +Herodotus, while believing on principle in the supernatural, yet was +sceptical at times. Thucydides simply ignored the supernatural. He did +not discuss it, but he annihilated it by explaining history without it. +Polybius enters at length into the whole question and explains its origin +and the method of treating it. Herodotus would have believed in Scipio’s +dream. Thucydides would have ignored it entirely. Polybius explains it. +He is the culmination of the rational progression of Dialectic. +‘Nothing,’ he says, ‘shows a foolish mind more than the attempt to +account for any phenomena on the principle of chance or supernatural +intervention. History is a search for rational causes, and there is +nothing in the world—even those phenomena which seem to us the most +remote from law and improbable—which is not the logical and inevitable +result of certain rational antecedents.’ + +Some things, of course, are to be rejected _a priori_ without entering +into the subject: ‘As regards such miracles,’ he says, {71} ‘as that on a +certain statue of Artemis rain or snow never falls though the statue +stands in the open air, or that those who enter God’s shrine in Arcadia +lose their natural shadows, I cannot really be expected to argue upon the +subject. For these things are not only utterly improbable but absolutely +impossible.’ + +‘For us to argue reasonably on an acknowledged absurdity is as vain a +task as trying to catch water in a sieve; it is really to admit the +possibility of the supernatural, which is the very point at issue.’ + +What Polybius felt was that to admit the possibility of a miracle is to +annihilate the possibility of history: for just as scientific and +chemical experiments would be either impossible or useless if exposed to +the chance of continued interference on the part of some foreign body, so +the laws and principles which govern history, the causes of phenomena, +the evolution of progress, the whole science, in a word, of man’s +dealings with his own race and with nature, will remain a sealed book to +him who admits the possibility of extra-natural interference. + +The stories of miracles, then, are to be rejected on _a priori_ rational +grounds, but in the case of events which we know to have happened the +scientific historian will not rest till he has discovered their natural +causes which, for instance, in the case of the wonderful rise of the +Roman Empire—the most marvellous thing, Polybius says, which God ever +brought about {72a}—are to be found in the excellence of their +constitution (_τῇ ἰδιότητι τῆς πολιτείας_), the wisdom of their advisers, +their splendid military arrangements, and their superstition (_τῇ +δεισιδαιμονίᾳ_). For while Polybius regarded the revealed religion as, +of course, objective reality of truth, {72b} he laid great stress on its +moral subjective influence, going, in one passage on the subject, even so +far as almost to excuse the introduction of the supernatural in very +small quantities into history on account of the extremely good effect it +would have on pious people. + +But perhaps there is no passage in the whole of ancient and modern +history which breathes such a manly and splendid spirit of rationalism as +one preserved to us in the Vatican—strange resting-place for it!—in which +he treats of the terrible decay of population which had fallen on his +native land in his own day, and which by the general orthodox public was +regarded as a special judgment of God sending childlessness on women as a +punishment for the sins of the people. For it was a disaster quite +without parallel in the history of the land, and entirely unforeseen by +any of its political-economy writers who, on the contrary, were always +anticipating that danger would arise from an excess of population +overrunning its means of subsistence, and becoming unmanageable through +its size. Polybius, however, will have nothing to do with either priest +or worker of miracles in this matter. He will not even seek that ‘sacred +Heart of Greece,’ Delphi, Apollo’s shrine, whose inspiration even +Thucydides admitted and before whose wisdom Socrates bowed. How foolish, +he says, were the man who on this matter would pray to God. We must +search for the rational causes, and the causes are seen to be clear, and +the method of prevention also. He then proceeds to notice how all this +arose from the general reluctance to marriage and to bearing the expense +of educating a large family which resulted from the carelessness and +avarice of the men of his day, and he explains on entirely rational +principles the whole of this apparently supernatural judgment. + +Now, it is to be borne in mind that while his rejection of miracles as +violation of inviolable laws is entirely _a priori_—for discussion of +such a matter is, of course, impossible for a rational thinker—yet his +rejection of supernatural intervention rests entirely on the scientific +grounds of the necessity of looking for natural causes. And he is quite +logical in maintaining his position on these principles. For, where it +is either difficult or impossible to assign any rational cause for +phenomena, or to discover their laws, he acquiesces reluctantly in the +alternative of admitting some extra-natural interference which his +essentially scientific method of treating the matter has logically forced +on him, approving, for instance, of prayers for rain, on the express +ground that the laws of meteorology had not yet been ascertained. He +would, of course, have been the first to welcome our modern discoveries +in the matter. The passage in question is in every way one of the most +interesting in his whole work, not, of course, as signifying any +inclination on his part to acquiesce in the supernatural, but because it +shows how essentially logical and rational his method of argument was, +and how candid and fair his mind. + +Having now examined Polybius’s attitude towards the supernatural and the +general ideas which guided his research, I will proceed to examine the +method he pursued in his scientific investigation of the complex +phenomena of life. For, as I have said before in the course of this +essay, what is important in all great writers is not so much the results +they arrive at as the methods they pursue. The increased knowledge of +facts may alter any conclusion in history as in physical science, and the +canons of speculative historical credibility must be acknowledged to +appeal rather to that subjective attitude of mind which we call the +historic sense than to any formulated objective rules. But a scientific +method is a gain for all time, and the true if not the only progress of +historical criticism consists in the improvement of the instruments of +research. + +Now first, as regards his conception of history, I have already pointed +out that it was to him essentially a search for causes, a problem to be +solved, not a picture to be painted, a scientific investigation into laws +and tendencies, not a mere romantic account of startling incident and +wondrous adventure. Thucydides, in the opening of his great work, had +sounded the first note of the scientific conception of history. ‘The +absence of romance in my pages,’ he says, ‘will, I fear, detract somewhat +from its value, but I have written my work not to be the exploit of a +passing hour but as the possession of all time.’ {76} Polybius follows +with words almost entirely similar. If, he says, we banish from history +the consideration of causes, methods and motives (_τὸ διὰ τί_, _καὶ πως_, +_καὶ τίνος χάριν_), and refuse to consider how far the result of anything +is its rational consequent, what is left is a mere _ἀγώνισμα_, not a +_μάθημα_, an oratorical essay which may give pleasure for the moment, but +which is entirely without any scientific value for the explanation of the +future. Elsewhere he says that ‘history robbed of the exposition of its +causes and laws is a profitless thing, though it may allure a fool.’ And +all through his history the same point is put forward and exemplified in +every fashion. + +So far for the conception of history. Now for the groundwork. As +regards the character of the phenomena to be selected by the scientific +investigator, Aristotle had laid down the general formula that nature +should be studied in her normal manifestations. Polybius, true to his +character of applying explicitly the principles implicit in the work of +others, follows out the doctrine of Aristotle, and lays particular stress +on the rational and undisturbed character of the development of the Roman +constitution as affording special facilities for the discovery of the +laws of its progress. Political revolutions result from causes either +external or internal. The former are mere disturbing forces which lie +outside the sphere of scientific calculation. It is the latter which are +important for the establishing of principles and the elucidation of the +sequences of rational evolution. + +He thus may be said to have anticipated one of the most important truths +of the modern methods of investigation: I mean that principle which lays +down that just as the study of physiology should precede the study of +pathology, just as the laws of disease are best discovered by the +phenomena presented in health, so the method of arriving at all great +social and political truths is by the investigation of those cases where +development has been normal, rational and undisturbed. + +The critical canon that the more a people has been interfered with, the +more difficult it becomes to generalise the laws of its progress and to +analyse the separate forces of its civilisation, is one the validity of +which is now generally recognised by those who pretend to a scientific +treatment of all history: and while we have seen that Aristotle +anticipated it in a general formula, to Polybius belongs the honour of +being the first to apply it explicitly in the sphere of history. + +I have shown how to this great scientific historian the motive of his +work was essentially the search for causes; and true to his analytical +spirit he is careful to examine what a cause really is and in what part +of the antecedents of any consequent it is to be looked for. To give an +illustration: As regards the origin of the war with Perseus, some +assigned as causes the expulsion of Abrupolis by Perseus, the expedition +of the latter to Delphi, the plot against Eumenes and the seizure of the +ambassadors in Bœotia; of these incidents the two former, Polybius points +out, were merely the pretexts, the two latter merely the occasions of the +war. The war was really a legacy left to Perseus by his father, who was +determined to fight it out with Rome. {78} + +Here as elsewhere he is not originating any new idea. Thucydides had +pointed out the difference between the real and the alleged cause, and +the Aristotelian dictum about revolutions, _οὐ περὶ μικρῶν ἀλλ’ ἐκ +μικρῶν_, draws the distinction between cause and occasion with the +brilliancy of an epigram. But the explicit and rational investigation of +the difference between _αἰτία_, _ἀρχὴ_, and _πρόφασις_ was reserved for +Polybius. No canon of historical criticism can be said to be of more +real value than that involved in this distinction, and the overlooking of +it has filled our histories with the contemptible accounts of the +intrigues of courtiers and of kings and the petty plottings of backstairs +influence—particulars interesting, no doubt, to those who would ascribe +the Reformation to Anne Boleyn’s pretty face, the Persian war to the +influence of a doctor or a curtain-lecture from Atossa, or the French +Revolution to Madame de Maintenon, but without any value for those who +aim at any scientific treatment of history. + +But the question of method, to which I am compelled always to return, is +not yet exhausted. There is another aspect in which it may be regarded, +and I shall now proceed to treat of it. + +One of the greatest difficulties with which the modern historian has to +contend is the enormous complexity of the facts which come under his +notice: D’Alembert’s suggestion that at the end of every century a +selection of facts should be made and the rest burned (if it was really +intended seriously) could not, of course, be entertained for a moment. A +problem loses all its value when it becomes simplified, and the world +would be all the poorer if the Sibyl of History burned her volumes. +Besides, as Gibbon pointed out, ‘a Montesquieu will detect in the most +insignificant fact relations which the vulgar overlook.’ + +Nor can the scientific investigator of history isolate the particular +elements, which he desires to examine, from disturbing and extraneous +causes, as the experimental chemist can do (though sometimes, as in the +case of lunatic asylums and prisons, he is enabled to observe phenomena +in a certain degree of isolation). So he is compelled either to use the +deductive mode of arguing from general laws or to employ the method of +abstraction, which gives a fictitious isolation to phenomena never so +isolated in actual existence. And this is exactly what Polybius has done +as well as Thucydides. For, as has been well remarked, there is in the +works of these two writers a certain plastic unity of type and motive; +whatever they write is penetrated through and through with a specific +quality, a singleness and concentration of purpose, which we may contrast +with the more comprehensive width as manifested not merely in the modern +mind, but also in Herodotus. Thucydides, regarding society as influenced +entirely by political motives, took no account of forces of a different +nature, and consequently his results, like those of most modern political +economists, have to be modified largely {81} before they come to +correspond with what we know was the actual state of fact. Similarly, +Polybius will deal only with those forces which tended to bring the +civilised world under the dominion of Rome (ix. 1), and in the +Thucydidean spirit points out the want of picturesqueness and romance in +his pages which is the result of the abstract method (_τὸ μονοειδὲς τῆς +συντάξεως_) being careful also to tell us that his rejection of all other +forces is essentially deliberate and the result of a preconceived theory +and by no means due to carelessness of any kind. + +Now, of the general value of the abstract method and the legality of its +employment in the sphere of history, this is perhaps not the suitable +occasion for any discussion. It is, however, in all ways worthy of note +that Polybius is not merely conscious of, but dwells with particular +weight on, the fact which is usually urged as the strongest objection to +the employment of the abstract method—I mean the conception of a society +as a sort of human organism whose parts are indissolubly connected with +one another and all affected when one member is in any way agitated. +This conception of the organic nature of society appears first in Plato +and Aristotle, who apply it to cities. Polybius, as his wont is, expands +it to be a general characteristic of all history. It is an idea of the +very highest importance, especially to a man like Polybius whose thoughts +are continually turned towards the essential unity of history and the +impossibility of isolation. + +Farther, as regards the particular method of investigating that group of +phenomena obtained for him by the abstract method, he will adopt, he +tells us, neither the purely deductive nor the purely inductive mode but +the union of both. In other words, he formally adopts that method of +analysis upon the importance of which I have dwelt before. + +And lastly, while, without doubt, enormous simplicity in the elements +under consideration is the result of the employment of the abstract +method, even within the limit thus obtained a certain selection must be +made, and a selection involves a theory. For the facts of life cannot be +tabulated with as great an ease as the colours of birds and insects can +be tabulated. Now, Polybius points out that those phenomena particularly +are to be dwelt on which may serve as a _παράδειγμα_ or sample, and show +the character of the tendencies of the age as clearly as ‘a single drop +from a full cask will be enough to disclose the nature of the whole +contents.’ This recognition of the importance of single facts, not in +themselves but because of the spirit they represent, is extremely +scientific; for we know that from the single bone, or tooth even, the +anatomist can recreate entirely the skeleton of the primeval horse, and +the botanist tell the character of the flora and fauna of a district from +a single specimen. + +Regarding truth as ‘the most divine thing in Nature,’ the very ‘eye and +light of history without which it moves a blind thing,’ Polybius spared +no pains in the acquisition of historical materials or in the study of +the sciences of politics and war, which he considered were so essential +to the training of the scientific historian, and the labour he took is +mirrored in the many ways in which he criticises other authorities. + +There is something, as a rule, slightly contemptible about ancient +criticism. The modern idea of the critic as the interpreter, the +expounder of the beauty and excellence of the work he selects, seems +quite unknown. Nothing can be more captious or unfair, for instance, +than the method by which Aristotle criticised the ideal state of Plato in +his ethical works, and the passages quoted by Polybius from Timæus show +that the latter historian fully deserved the punning name given to him. +But in Polybius there is, I think, little of that bitterness and +pettiness of spirit which characterises most other writers, and an +incidental story he tells of his relations with one of the historians +whom he criticised shows that he was a man of great courtesy and +refinement of taste—as, indeed, befitted one who had lived always in the +society of those who were of great and noble birth. + +Now, as regards the character of the canons by which he criticises the +works of other authors, in the majority of cases he employs simply his +own geographical and military knowledge, showing, for instance, the +impossibility in the accounts given of Nabis’s march from Sparta simply +by his acquaintance with the spots in question; or the inconsistency of +those of the battle of Issus; or of the accounts given by Ephorus of the +battles of Leuctra and Mantinea. In the latter case he says, if any one +will take the trouble to measure out the ground of the site of the battle +and then test the manœuvres given, he will find how inaccurate the +accounts are. + +In other cases he appeals to public documents, the importance of which he +was always foremost in recognising; showing, for instance, by a document +in the public archives of Rhodes how inaccurate were the accounts given +of the battle of Lade by Zeno and Antisthenes. Or he appeals to +psychological probability, rejecting, for instance, the scandalous +stories told of Philip of Macedon, simply from the king’s general +greatness of character, and arguing that a boy so well educated and so +respectably connected as Demochares (xii. 14) could never have been +guilty of that of which evil rumour accused him. + +But the chief object of his literary censure is Timæus, who had been +unsparing of his strictures on others. The general point which he makes +against him, impugning his accuracy as a historian, is that he derived +his knowledge of history not from the dangerous perils of a life of +action but in the secure indolence of a narrow scholastic life. There +is, indeed, no point on which he is so vehement as this. ‘A history,’ he +says, ‘written in a library gives as lifeless and as inaccurate a picture +of history as a painting which is copied not from a living animal but +from a stuffed one.’ + +There is more difference, he says in another place, between the history +of an eye-witness and that of one whose knowledge comes from books, than +there is between the scenes of real life and the fictitious landscapes of +theatrical scenery. Besides this, he enters into somewhat elaborate +detailed criticism of passages where he thought Timæus was following a +wrong method and perverting truth, passages which it will be worth while +to examine in detail. + +Timæus, from the fact of there being a Roman custom to shoot a war-horse +on a stated day, argued back to the Trojan origin of that people. +Polybius, on the other hand, points out that the inference is quite +unwarrantable, because horse-sacrifices are ordinary institutions common +to all barbarous tribes. Timæus here, as was common with Greek writers, +is arguing back from some custom of the present to an historical event in +the past. Polybius really is employing the comparative method, showing +how the custom was an ordinary step in the civilisation of every early +people. + +In another place, {86} he shows how illogical is the scepticism of Timæus +as regards the existence of the Bull of Phalaris simply by appealing to +the statue of the Bull, which was still to be seen in Carthage; pointing +out how impossible it was, on any other theory except that it belonged to +Phalaris, to account for the presence in Carthage of a bull of this +peculiar character with a door between his shoulders. But one of the +great points which he uses against this Sicilian historian is in +reference to the question of the origin of the Locrian colony. In +accordance with the received tradition on the subject, Aristotle had +represented the Locrian colony as founded by some Parthenidæ or slaves’ +children, as they were called, a statement which seems to have roused the +indignation of Timæus, who went to a good deal of trouble to confute this +theory. He does so on the following grounds:— + +First of all, he points out that in the ancient days the Greeks had no +slaves at all, so the mention of them in the matter is an anachronism; +and next he declares that he was shown in the Greek city of Locris +certain ancient inscriptions in which their relation to the Italian city +was expressed in terms of the position between parent and child, which +showed also that mutual rights of citizenship were accorded to each city. +Besides this, he appeals to various questions of improbability as regards +their international relationship, on which Polybius takes diametrically +opposite grounds which hardly call for discussion. And in favour of his +own view he urges two points more: first, that the Lacedæmonians being +allowed furlough for the purpose of seeing their wives at home, it was +unlikely that the Locrians should not have had the same privilege; and +next, that the Italian Locrians knew nothing of the Aristotelian version +and had, on the contrary, very severe laws against adulterers, runaway +slaves and the like. Now, most of these questions rest on mere +probability, which is always such a subjective canon that an appeal to it +is rarely conclusive. I would note, however, as regards the inscriptions +which, if genuine, would of course have settled the matter, that Polybius +looks on them as a mere invention on the part of Timæus, who, he remarks, +gives no details about them, though, as a rule, he is over-anxious to +give chapter and verse for everything. A somewhat more interesting point +is that where he attacks Timæus for the introduction of fictitious +speeches into his narrative; for on this point Polybius seems to be far +in advance of the opinions held by literary men on the subject not merely +in his own day, but for centuries after. + +Herodotus had introduced speeches avowedly dramatic and fictitious. +Thucydides states clearly that, where he was unable to find out what +people really said, he put down what they ought to have said. Sallust +alludes, it is true, to the fact of the speech he puts into the mouth of +the tribune Memmius being essentially genuine, but the speeches given in +the senate on the occasion of the Catilinarian conspiracy are very +different from the same orations as they appear in Cicero. Livy makes +his ancient Romans wrangle and chop logic with all the subtlety of a +Hortensius or a Scævola. And even in later days, when shorthand +reporters attended the debates of the senate and a _Daily News_ was +published in Rome, we find that one of the most celebrated speeches in +Tacitus (that in which the Emperor Claudius gives the Gauls their +freedom) is shown, by an inscription discovered recently at Lugdunum, to +be entirely fabulous. + +Upon the other hand, it must be borne in mind that these speeches were +not intended to deceive; they were regarded merely as a certain dramatic +element which it was allowable to introduce into history for the purpose +of giving more life and reality to the narration, and were to be +criticised, not as we should, by arguing how in an age before shorthand +was known such a report was possible or how, in the failure of written +documents, tradition could bring down such an accurate verbal account, +but by the higher test of their psychological probability as regards the +persons in whose mouths they are placed. An ancient historian in answer +to modern criticism would say, probably, that these fictitious speeches +were in reality more truthful than the actual ones, just as Aristotle +claimed for poetry a higher degree of truth in comparison to history. +The whole point is interesting as showing how far in advance of his age +Polybius may be said to have been. + +The last scientific historian, it is possible to gather from his writings +what he considered were the characteristics of the ideal writer of +history; and no small light will be thrown on the progress of historical +criticism if we strive to collect and analyse what in Polybius are more +or less scattered expressions. The ideal historian must be contemporary +with the events he describes, or removed from them by one generation +only. Where it is possible, he is to be an eye-witness of what he writes +of; where that is out of his power he is to test all traditions and +stories carefully and not to be ready to accept what is plausible in +place of what is true. He is to be no bookworm living aloof from the +experiences of the world in the artificial isolation of a university +town, but a politician, a soldier, and a traveller, a man not merely of +thought but of action, one who can do great things as well as write of +them, who in the sphere of history could be what Byron and Æschylus were +in the sphere of poetry, at once _le chantre et le héros_. + +He is to keep before his eyes the fact that chance is merely a synonym +for our ignorance; that the reign of law pervades the domain of history +as much as it does that of political science. He is to accustom himself +to look on all occasions for rational and natural causes. And while he +is to recognise the practical utility of the supernatural, in an +educational point of view, he is not himself to indulge in such +intellectual beating of the air as to admit the possibility of the +violation of inviolable laws, or to argue in a sphere wherein argument is +_a priori_ annihilated. He is to be free from all bias towards friend +and country; he is to be courteous and gentle in criticism; he is not to +regard history as a mere opportunity for splendid and tragic writing; nor +is he to falsify truth for the sake of a paradox or an epigram. + +While acknowledging the importance of particular facts as samples of +higher truths, he is to take a broad and general view of humanity. He is +to deal with the whole race and with the world, not with particular +tribes or separate countries. He is to bear in mind that the world is +really an organism wherein no one part can be moved without the others +being affected also. He is to distinguish between cause and occasion, +between the influence of general laws and particular fancies, and he is +to remember that the greatest lessons of the world are contained in +history and that it is the historian’s duty to manifest them so as to +save nations from following those unwise policies which always lead to +dishonour and ruin, and to teach individuals to apprehend by the +intellectual culture of history those truths which else they would have +to learn in the bitter school of experience. + +Now, as regards his theory of the necessity of the historian’s being +contemporary with the events he describes, so far as the historian is a +mere narrator the remark is undoubtedly true. But to appreciate the +harmony and rational position of the facts of a great epoch, to discover +its laws, the causes which produced it and the effects which it +generates, the scene must be viewed from a certain height and distance to +be completely apprehended. A thoroughly contemporary historian such as +Lord Clarendon or Thucydides is in reality part of the history he +criticises; and, in the case of such contemporary historians as Fabius +and Philistus, Polybius in compelled to acknowledge that they are misled +by patriotic and other considerations. Against Polybius himself no such +accusation can be made. He indeed of all men is able, as from some lofty +tower, to discern the whole tendency of the ancient world, the triumph of +Roman institutions and of Greek thought which is the last message of the +old world and, in a more spiritual sense, has become the Gospel of the +new. + +One thing indeed he did not see, or if he saw it, he thought but little +of it—how from the East there was spreading over the world, as a wave +spreads, a spiritual inroad of new religions from the time when the +Pessinuntine mother of the gods, a shapeless mass of stone, was brought +to the eternal city by her holiest citizen, to the day when the ship +_Castor and Pollux_ stood in at Puteoli, and St. Paul turned his face +towards martyrdom and victory at Rome. Polybius was able to predict, +from his knowledge of the causes of revolutions and the tendencies of the +various forms of governments, the uprising of that democratic tone of +thought which, as soon as a seed is sown in the murder of the Gracchi and +the exile of Marius, culminated as all democratic movements do culminate, +in the supreme authority of one man, the lordship of the world under the +world’s rightful lord, Caius Julius Cæsar. This, indeed, he saw in no +uncertain way. But the turning of all men’s hearts to the East, the +first glimmering of that splendid dawn which broke over the hills of +Galilee and flooded the earth like wine, was hidden from his eyes. + +There are many points in the description of the ideal historian which one +may compare to the picture which Plato has given us of the ideal +philosopher. They are both ‘spectators of all time and all existence.’ +Nothing is contemptible in their eyes, for all things have a meaning, and +they both walk in august reasonableness before all men, conscious of the +workings of God yet free from all terror of mendicant priest or vagrant +miracle-worker. But the parallel ends here. For the one stands aloof +from the world-storm of sleet and hail, his eyes fixed on distant and +sunlit heights, loving knowledge for the sake of knowledge and wisdom for +the joy of wisdom, while the other is an eager actor in the world ever +seeking to apply his knowledge to useful things. Both equally desire +truth, but the one because of its utility, the other for its beauty. The +historian regards it as the rational principle of all true history, and +no more. To the other it comes as an all-pervading and mystic +enthusiasm, ‘like the desire of strong wine, the craving of ambition, the +passionate love of what is beautiful.’ + +Still, though we miss in the historian those higher and more spiritual +qualities which the philosopher of the Academe alone of all men +possessed, we must not blind ourselves to the merits of that great +rationalist who seems to have anticipated the very latest words of modern +science. Nor yet is he to be regarded merely in the narrow light in +which he is estimated by most modern critics, as the explicit champion of +rationalism and nothing more. For he is connected with another idea, the +course of which is as the course of that great river of his native +Arcadia which, springing from some arid and sun-bleached rock, gathers +strength and beauty as it flows till it reaches the asphodel meadows of +Olympia and the light and laughter of Ionian waters. + +For in him we can discern the first notes of that great cult of the +seven-hilled city which made Virgil write his epic and Livy his history, +which found in Dante its highest exponent, which dreamed of an Empire +where the Emperor would care for the bodies and the Pope for the souls of +men, and so has passed into the conception of God’s spiritual empire and +the universal brotherhood of man and widened into the huge ocean of +universal thought as the Peneus loses itself in the sea. + +Polybius is the last scientific historian of Greece. The writer who +seems fittingly to complete the progress of thought is a writer of +biographies only. I will not here touch on Plutarch’s employment of the +inductive method as shown in his constant use of inscription and statue, +of public document and building and the like, because it involves no new +method. It is his attitude towards miracles of which I desire to treat. + +Plutarch is philosophic enough to see that in the sense of a violation of +the laws of nature a miracle is impossible. It is absurd, he says, to +imagine that the statue of a saint can speak, and that an inanimate +object not possessing the vocal organs should be able to utter an +articulate sound. Upon the other hand, he protests against science +imagining that, by explaining the natural causes of things, it has +explained away their transcendental meaning. ‘When the tears on the +cheek of some holy statue have been analysed into the moisture which +certain temperatures produce on wood and marble, it yet by no means +follows that they were not a sign of grief and mourning set there by God +Himself.’ When Lampon saw in the prodigy of the one-horned ram the omen +of the supreme rule of Pericles, and when Anaxagoras showed that the +abnormal development was the rational resultant of the peculiar formation +of the skull, the dreamer and the man of science were both right; it was +the business of the latter to consider how the prodigy came about, of the +former to show why it was so formed and what it so portended. The +progression of thought is exemplified in all particulars. Herodotus had +a glimmering sense of the impossibility of a violation of nature. +Thucydides ignored the supernatural. Polybius rationalised it. Plutarch +raises it to its mystical heights again, though he bases it on law. In a +word, Plutarch felt that while science brings the supernatural down to +the natural, yet ultimately all that is natural is really supernatural. +To him, as to many of our own day, religion was that transcendental +attitude of the mind which, contemplating a world resting on inviolable +law, is yet comforted and seeks to worship God not in the violation but +in the fulfilment of nature. + +It may seem paradoxical to quote in connection with the priest of +Chæronea such a pure rationalist as Mr. Herbert Spencer; yet when we read +as the last message of modern science that ‘when the equation of life has +been reduced to its lowest terms the symbols are symbols still,’ mere +signs, that is, of that unknown reality which underlies all matter and +all spirit, we may feel how over the wide strait of centuries thought +calls to thought and how Plutarch has a higher position than is usually +claimed for him in the progress of the Greek intellect. + +And, indeed, it seems that not merely the importance of Plutarch himself +but also that of the land of his birth in the evolution of Greek +civilisation has been passed over by modern critics. To us, indeed, the +bare rock to which the Parthenon serves as a crown, and which lies +between Colonus and Attica’s violet hills, will always be the holiest +spot in the land of Greece: and Delphi will come next, and then the +meadows of Eurotas where that noble people lived who represented in +Hellenic thought the reaction of the law of duty against the law of +beauty, the opposition of conduct to culture. Yet, as one stands on the +_σχιστὴ ὁδός_ of Cithæron and looks out on the great double plain of +Boeotia, the enormous importance of the division of Hellas comes to one’s +mind with great force. To the north are Orchomenus and the Minyan +treasure-house, seat of those merchant princes of Phoenicia who brought +to Greece the knowledge of letters and the art of working in gold. +Thebes is at our feet with the gloom of the terrible legends of Greek +tragedy still lingering about it, the birthplace of Pindar, the nurse of +Epaminondas and the Sacred Band. + +And from out of the plain where ‘Mars loved to dance,’ rises the Muses’ +haunt, Helicon, by whose silver streams Corinna and Hesiod sang; while +far away under the white ægis of those snow-capped mountains lies +Chæronea and the Lion plain where with vain chivalry the Greeks strove to +check Macedon first and afterwards Rome; Chæronea, where in the Martinmas +summer of Greek civilisation Plutarch rose from the drear waste of a +dying religion as the aftermath rises when the mowers think they have +left the field bare. + +Greek philosophy began and ended in scepticism: the first and the last +word of Greek history was Faith. + +Splendid thus in its death, like winter sunsets, the Greek religion +passed away into the horror of night. For the Cimmerian darkness was at +hand, and when the schools of Athens were closed and the statue of Athena +broken, the Greek spirit passed from the gods and the history of its own +land to the subtleties of defining the doctrine of the Trinity and the +mystical attempts to bring Plato into harmony with Christ and to +reconcile Gethsemane and the Sermon on the Mount with the Athenian prison +and the discussion in the woods of Colonus. The Greek spirit slept for +wellnigh a thousand years. When it woke again, like Antæus it had +gathered strength from the earth where it lay; like Apollo it had lost +none of its divinity through its long servitude. + +In the history of Roman thought we nowhere find any of those +characteristics of the Greek Illumination which I have pointed out are +the necessary concomitants of the rise of historical criticism. The +conservative respect for tradition which made the Roman people delight in +the ritual and formulas of law, and is as apparent in their politics as +in their religion, was fatal to any rise of that spirit of revolt against +authority the importance of which, as a factor in intellectual progress, +we have already seen. + +The whitened tables of the Pontifices preserved carefully the records of +the eclipses and other atmospherical phenomena, and what we call the art +of verifying dates was known to them at an early time; but there was no +spontaneous rise of physical science to suggest by its analogies of law +and order a new method of research, nor any natural springing up of the +questioning spirit of philosophy with its unification of all phenomena +and all knowledge. At the very time when the whole tide of Eastern +superstition was sweeping into the heart of the Capital the Senate +banished the Greek philosophers from Rome. And of the three systems +which did at length take some root in the city, those of Zeno and +Epicurus were used merely as the rule for the ordering of life, while the +dogmatic scepticism of Carneades, by its very principles, annihilated the +possibility of argument and encouraged a perfect indifference to +research. + +Nor were the Romans ever fortunate enough like the Greeks to have to face +the incubus of any dogmatic system of legends and myths, the immoralities +and absurdities of which might excite a revolutionary outbreak of +sceptical criticism. For the Roman religion became as it were +crystallised and isolated from progress at an early period of its +evolution. Their gods remained mere abstractions of commonplace virtues +or uninteresting personifications of the useful things of life. The old +primitive creed was indeed always upheld as a state institution on +account of the enormous facilities it offered for cheating in politics, +but as a spiritual system of belief it was unanimously rejected at a very +early period both by the common people and the educated classes, for the +sensible reason that it was so extremely dull. The former took refuge in +the mystic sensualities of the worship of Isis, the latter in the Stoical +rules of life. The Romans classified their gods carefully in their order +of precedence, analysed their genealogies in the laborious spirit of +modern heraldry, fenced them round with a ritual as intricate as their +law, but never quite cared enough about them to believe in them. So it +was of no account with them when the philosophers announced that Minerva +was merely memory. She had never been much else. Nor did they protest +when Lucretius dared to say of Ceres and of Liber that they were only the +corn of the field and the fruit of the vine. For they had never mourned +for the daughter of Demeter in the asphodel meadows of Sicily, nor +traversed the glades of Cithæron with fawn-skin and with spear. + +This brief sketch of the condition of Roman thought will serve to prepare +us for the almost total want of scientific historical criticism which we +shall discern in their literature, and has, besides, afforded fresh +corroboration of the conditions essential to the rise of this spirit, and +of the modes of thought which it reflects and in which it is always to be +found. Roman historical composition had its origin in the pontifical +college of ecclesiastical lawyers, and preserved to its close the +uncritical spirit which characterised its fountain-head. It possessed +from the outset a most voluminous collection of the materials of history, +which, however, produced merely antiquarians, not historians. It is so +hard to use facts, so easy to accumulate them. + +Wearied of the dull monotony of the pontifical annals, which dwelt on +little else but the rise and fall in provisions and the eclipses of the +sun, Cato wrote out a history with his own hand for the instruction of +his child, to which he gave the name of Origines, and before his time +some aristocratic families had written histories in Greek much in the +same spirit in which the Germans of the eighteenth century used French as +the literary language. But the first regular Roman historian is Sallust. +Between the extravagant eulogies passed on this author by the French +(such as De Closset), and Dr. Mommsen’s view of him as merely a political +pamphleteer, it is perhaps difficult to reach the _via media_ of +unbiassed appreciation. He has, at any rate, the credit of being a +purely rationalistic historian, perhaps the only one in Roman literature. +Cicero had a good many qualifications for a scientific historian, and (as +he usually did) thought very highly of his own powers. On passages of +ancient legend, however, he is rather unsatisfactory, for while he is too +sensible to believe them he is too patriotic to reject them. And this is +really the attitude of Livy, who claims for early Roman legend a certain +uncritical homage from the rest of the subject world. His view in his +history is that it is not worth while to examine the truth of these +stories. + +In his hands the history of Rome unrolls before our eyes like some +gorgeous tapestry, where victory succeeds victory, where triumph treads +on the heels of triumph, and the line of heroes seems never to end. It +is not till we pass behind the canvas and see the slight means by which +the effect is produced that we apprehend the fact that like most +picturesque writers Livy is an indifferent critic. As regards his +attitude towards the credibility of early Roman history he is quite as +conscious as we are of its mythical and unsound nature. He will not, for +instance, decide whether the Horatii were Albans or Romans; who was the +first dictator; how many tribunes there were, and the like. His method, +as a rule, is merely to mention all the accounts and sometimes to decide +in favour of the most probable, but usually not to decide at all. No +canons of historical criticism will ever discover whether the Roman women +interviewed the mother of Coriolanus of their own accord or at the +suggestion of the senate; whether Remus was killed for jumping over his +brother’s wall or because they quarrelled about birds; whether the +ambassadors found Cincinnatus ploughing or only mending a hedge. Livy +suspends his judgment over these important facts and history when +questioned on their truth is dumb. If he does select between two +historians he chooses the one who is nearer to the facts he describes. +But he is no critic, only a conscientious writer. It is mere vain waste +to dwell on his critical powers, for they do not exist. + + * * * * * + +In the case of Tacitus imagination has taken the place of history. The +past lives again in his pages, but through no laborious criticism; rather +through a dramatic and psychological faculty which he specially +possessed. + +In the philosophy of history he has no belief. He can never make up his +mind what to believe as regards God’s government of the world. There is +no method in him and none elsewhere in Roman literature. + +Nations may not have missions but they certainly have functions. And the +function of ancient Italy was not merely to give us what is statical in +our institutions and rational in our law, but to blend into one elemental +creed the spiritual aspirations of Aryan and of Semite. Italy was not a +pioneer in intellectual progress, nor a motive power in the evolution of +thought. The owl of the goddess of Wisdom traversed over the whole land +and found nowhere a resting-place. The dove, which is the bird of +Christ, flew straight to the city of Rome and the new reign began. It +was the fashion of early Italian painters to represent in mediæval +costume the soldiers who watched over the tomb of Christ, and this, which +was the result of the frank anachronism of all true art, may serve to us +as an allegory. For it was in vain that the Middle Ages strove to guard +the buried spirit of progress. When the dawn of the Greek spirit arose, +the sepulchre was empty, the grave-clothes laid aside. Humanity had +risen from the dead. + +The study of Greek, it has been well said, implies the birth of +criticism, comparison and research. At the opening of that education of +modern by ancient thought which we call the Renaissance, it was the words +of Aristotle which sent Columbus sailing to the New World, while a +fragment of Pythagorean astronomy set Copernicus thinking on that train +of reasoning which has revolutionised the whole position of our planet in +the universe. Then it was seen that the only meaning of progress is a +return to Greek modes of thought. The monkish hymns which obscured the +pages of Greek manuscripts were blotted out, the splendours of a new +method were unfolded to the world, and out of the melancholy sea of +mediævalism rose the free spirit of man in all that splendour of glad +adolescence, when the bodily powers seem quickened by a new vitality, +when the eye sees more clearly than its wont and the mind apprehends what +was beforetime hidden from it. To herald the opening of the sixteenth +century, from the little Venetian printing press came forth all the great +authors of antiquity, each bearing on the title-page the words _Ἅλδος ὁ +Μανούτιος Ῥωμαῖος καὶ Φιλέλλην_; words which may serve to remind us with +what wondrous prescience Polybius saw the world’s fate when he foretold +the material sovereignty of Roman institutions and exemplified in himself +the intellectual empire of Greece. + +The course of the study of the spirit of historical criticism has not +been a profitless investigation into modes and forms of thought now +antiquated and of no account. The only spirit which is entirely removed +from us is the mediæval; the Greek spirit is essentially modern. The +introduction of the comparative method of research which has forced +history to disclose its secrets belongs in a measure to us. Ours, too, +is a more scientific knowledge of philology and the method of survival. +Nor did the ancients know anything of the doctrine of averages or of +crucial instances, both of which methods have proved of such importance +in modern criticism, the one adding a most important proof of the +statical elements of history, and exemplifying the influences of all +physical surroundings on the life of man; the other, as in the single +instance of the Moulin Quignon skull, serving to create a whole new +science of prehistoric archæology and to bring us back to a time when man +was coeval with the stone age, the mammoth and the woolly rhinoceros. +But, except these, we have added no new canon or method to the science of +historical criticism. Across the drear waste of a thousand years the +Greek and the modern spirit join hands. + +In the torch race which the Greek boys ran from the Cerameician field of +death to the home of the goddess of Wisdom, not merely he who first +reached the goal but he also who first started with the torch aflame +received a prize. In the Lampadephoria of civilisation and free thought +let us not forget to render due meed of honour to those who first lit +that sacred flame, the increasing splendour of which lights our footsteps +to the far-off divine event of the attainment of perfect truth. + + + + +THE ENGLISH RENAISSANCE OF ART + + +‘The English Renaissance of Art’ was delivered as a lecture for the first +time in the Chickering Hall, New York, on January 9, 1882. A portion of +it was reported in the _New York Tribune_ on the following day and in +other American papers subsequently. Since then this portion has been +reprinted, more or less accurately, from time to time, in unauthorised +editions. + +There are in existence no less than four copies of the lecture, the +earliest of which is entirely in the author’s handwriting. The others +are type-written and contain many corrections and additions made by the +author in manuscript. These have all been collated and the text here +given contains, as nearly as possible, the lecture in the original form +as delivered by the author during his tour in the United States. + +AMONG the many debts which we owe to the supreme æsthetic faculty of +Goethe is that he was the first to teach us to define beauty in terms the +most concrete possible, to realise it, I mean, always in its special +manifestations. So, in the lecture which I have the honour to deliver +before you, I will not try to give you any abstract definition of +beauty—any such universal formula for it as was sought for by the +philosophy of the eighteenth century—still less to communicate to you +that which in its essence is incommunicable, the virtue by which a +particular picture or poem affects us with a unique and special joy; but +rather to point out to you the general ideas which characterise the great +English Renaissance of Art in this century, to discover their source, as +far as that is possible, and to estimate their future as far as that is +possible. + +I call it our English Renaissance because it is indeed a sort of new +birth of the spirit of man, like the great Italian Renaissance of the +fifteenth century, in its desire for a more gracious and comely way of +life, its passion for physical beauty, its exclusive attention to form, +its seeking for new subjects for poetry, new forms of art, new +intellectual and imaginative enjoyments: and I call it our romantic +movement because it is our most recent expression of beauty. + +It has been described as a mere revival of Greek modes of thought, and +again as a mere revival of mediæval feeling. Rather I would say that to +these forms of the human spirit it has added whatever of artistic value +the intricacy and complexity and experience of modern life can give: +taking from the one its clearness of vision and its sustained calm, from +the other its variety of expression and the mystery of its vision. For +what, as Goethe said, is the study of the ancients but a return to the +real world (for that is what they did); and what, said Mazzini, is +mediævalism but individuality? + +It is really from the union of Hellenism, in its breadth, its sanity of +purpose, its calm possession of beauty, with the adventive, the +intensified individualism, the passionate colour of the romantic spirit, +that springs the art of the nineteenth century in England, as from the +marriage of Faust and Helen of Troy sprang the beautiful boy Euphorion. + +Such expressions as ‘classical’ and ‘romantic’ are, it is true, often apt +to become the mere catchwords of schools. We must always remember that +art has only one sentence to utter: there is for her only one high law, +the law of form or harmony—yet between the classical and romantic spirit +we may say that there lies this difference at least, that the one deals +with the type and the other with the exception. In the work produced +under the modern romantic spirit it is no longer the permanent, the +essential truths of life that are treated of; it is the momentary +situation of the one, the momentary aspect of the other that art seeks to +render. In sculpture, which is the type of one spirit, the subject +predominates over the situation; in painting, which is the type of the +other, the situation predominates over the subject. + +There are two spirits, then: the Hellenic spirit and the spirit of +romance may be taken as forming the essential elements of our conscious +intellectual tradition, of our permanent standard of taste. As regards +their origin, in art as in politics there is but one origin for all +revolutions, a desire on the part of man for a nobler form of life, for a +freer method and opportunity of expression. Yet, I think that in +estimating the sensuous and intellectual spirit which presides over our +English Renaissance, any attempt to isolate it in any way from in the +progress and movement and social life of the age that has produced it +would be to rob it of its true vitality, possibly to mistake its true +meaning. And in disengaging from the pursuits and passions of this +crowded modern world those passions and pursuits which have to do with +art and the love of art, we must take into account many great events of +history which seem to be the most opposed to any such artistic feeling. + +Alien then from any wild, political passion, or from the harsh voice of a +rude people in revolt, as our English Renaissance must seem, in its +passionate cult of pure beauty, its flawless devotion to form, its +exclusive and sensitive nature, it is to the French Revolution that we +must look for the most primary factor of its production, the first +condition of its birth: that great Revolution of which we are all the +children though the voices of some of us be often loud against it; that +Revolution to which at a time when even such spirits as Coleridge and +Wordsworth lost heart in England, noble messages of love blown across +seas came from your young Republic. + +It is true that our modern sense of the continuity of history has shown +us that neither in politics nor in nature are there revolutions ever but +evolutions only, and that the prelude to that wild storm which swept over +France in 1789 and made every king in Europe tremble for his throne, was +first sounded in literature years before the Bastille fell and the Palace +was taken. The way for those red scenes by Seine and Loire was paved by +that critical spirit of Germany and England which accustomed men to bring +all things to the test of reason or utility or both, while the discontent +of the people in the streets of Paris was the echo that followed the life +of Emile and of Werther. For Rousseau, by silent lake and mountain, had +called humanity back to the golden age that still lies before us and +preached a return to nature, in passionate eloquence whose music still +lingers about our keen northern air. And Goethe and Scott had brought +romance back again from the prison she had lain in for so many +centuries—and what is romance but humanity? + +Yet in the womb of the Revolution itself, and in the storm and terror of +that wild time, tendencies were hidden away that the artistic Renaissance +bent to her own service when the time came—a scientific tendency first, +which has borne in our own day a brood of somewhat noisy Titans, yet in +the sphere of poetry has not been unproductive of good. I do not mean +merely in its adding to enthusiasm that intellectual basis which in its +strength, or that more obvious influence about which Wordsworth was +thinking when he said very nobly that poetry was merely the impassioned +expression in the face of science, and that when science would put on a +form of flesh and blood the poet would lend his divine spirit to aid the +transfiguration. Nor do I dwell much on the great cosmical emotion and +deep pantheism of science to which Shelley has given its first and +Swinburne its latest glory of song, but rather on its influence on the +artistic spirit in preserving that close observation and the sense of +limitation as well as of clearness of vision which are the +characteristics of the real artist. + +The great and golden rule of art as well as of life, wrote William Blake, +is that the more distinct, sharp and defined the boundary line, the more +perfect is the work of art; and the less keen and sharp the greater is +the evidence of weak imitation, plagiarism and bungling. ‘Great +inventors in all ages knew this—Michael Angelo and Albert Durer are known +by this and by this alone’; and another time he wrote, with all the +simple directness of nineteenth-century prose, ‘to generalise is to be an +idiot.’ + +And this love of definite conception, this clearness of vision, this +artistic sense of limit, is the characteristic of all great work and +poetry; of the vision of Homer as of the vision of Dante, of Keats and +William Morris as of Chaucer and Theocritus. It lies at the base of all +noble, realistic and romantic work as opposed to the colourless and empty +abstractions of our own eighteenth-century poets and of the classical +dramatists of France, or of the vague spiritualities of the German +sentimental school: opposed, too, to that spirit of transcendentalism +which also was root and flower itself of the great Revolution, underlying +the impassioned contemplation of Wordsworth and giving wings and fire to +the eagle-like flight of Shelley, and which in the sphere of philosophy, +though displaced by the materialism and positiveness of our day, +bequeathed two great schools of thought, the school of Newman to Oxford, +the school of Emerson to America. Yet is this spirit of +transcendentalism alien to the spirit of art. For the artist can accept +no sphere of life in exchange for life itself. For him there is no +escape from the bondage of the earth: there is not even the desire of +escape. + +He is indeed the only true realist: symbolism, which is the essence of +the transcendental spirit, is alien to him. The metaphysical mind of +Asia will create for itself the monstrous, many-breasted idol of Ephesus, +but to the Greek, pure artist, that work is most instinct with spiritual +life which conforms most clearly to the perfect facts of physical life. + +‘The storm of revolution,’ as Andre Chenier said, ‘blows out the torch of +poetry.’ It is not for some little time that the real influence of such +a wild cataclysm of things is felt: at first the desire for equality +seems to have produced personalities of more giant and Titan stature than +the world had ever known before. Men heard the lyre of Byron and the +legions of Napoleon; it was a period of measureless passions and of +measureless despair; ambition, discontent, were the chords of life and +art; the age was an age of revolt: a phase through which the human spirit +must pass, but one in which it cannot rest. For the aim of culture is +not rebellion but peace, the valley perilous where ignorant armies clash +by night being no dwelling-place meet for her to whom the gods have +assigned the fresh uplands and sunny heights and clear, untroubled air. + +And soon that desire for perfection, which lay at the base of the +Revolution, found in a young English poet its most complete and flawless +realisation. + +Phidias and the achievements of Greek art are foreshadowed in Homer: +Dante prefigures for us the passion and colour and intensity of Italian +painting: the modern love of landscape dates from Rousseau, and it is in +Keats that one discerns the beginning of the artistic renaissance of +England. + +Byron was a rebel and Shelley a dreamer; but in the calmness and +clearness of his vision, his perfect self-control, his unerring sense of +beauty and his recognition of a separate realm for the imagination, Keats +was the pure and serene artist, the forerunner of the pre-Raphaelite +school, and so of the great romantic movement of which I am to speak. + +Blake had indeed, before him, claimed for art a lofty, spiritual mission, +and had striven to raise design to the ideal level of poetry and music, +but the remoteness of his vision both in painting and poetry and the +incompleteness of his technical powers had been adverse to any real +influence. It is in Keats that the artistic spirit of this century first +found its absolute incarnation. + +And these pre-Raphaelites, what were they? If you ask nine-tenths of the +British public what is the meaning of the word æsthetics, they will tell +you it is the French for affectation or the German for a dado; and if you +inquire about the pre-Raphaelites you will hear something about an +eccentric lot of young men to whom a sort of divine crookedness and holy +awkwardness in drawing were the chief objects of art. To know nothing +about their great men is one of the necessary elements of English +education. + +As regards the pre-Raphaelites the story is simple enough. In the year +1847 a number of young men in London, poets and painters, passionate +admirers of Keats all of them, formed the habit of meeting together for +discussions on art, the result of such discussions being that the English +Philistine public was roused suddenly from its ordinary apathy by hearing +that there was in its midst a body of young men who had determined to +revolutionise English painting and poetry. They called themselves the +pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. + +In England, then as now, it was enough for a man to try and produce any +serious beautiful work to lose all his rights as a citizen; and besides +this, the pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood—among whom the names of Dante +Rossetti, Holman Hunt and Millais will be familiar to you—had on their +side three things that the English public never forgives: youth, power +and enthusiasm. + +Satire, always as sterile as it in shameful and as impotent as it is +insolent, paid them that usual homage which mediocrity pays to +genius—doing, here as always, infinite harm to the public, blinding them +to what is beautiful, teaching them that irreverence which is the source +of all vileness and narrowness of life, but harming the artist not at +all, rather confirming him in the perfect rightness of his work and +ambition. For to disagree with three-fourths of the British public on +all points is one of the first elements of sanity, one of the deepest +consolations in all moments of spiritual doubt. + +As regards the ideas these young men brought to the regeneration of +English art, we may see at the base of their artistic creations a desire +for a deeper spiritual value to be given to art as well as a more +decorative value. + +Pre-Raphaelites they called themselves; not that they imitated the early +Italian masters at all, but that in their work, as opposed to the facile +abstractions of Raphael, they found a stronger realism of imagination, a +more careful realism of technique, a vision at once more fervent and more +vivid, an individuality more intimate and more intense. + +For it is not enough that a work of art should conform to the æsthetic +demands of its age: there must be also about it, if it is to affect us +with any permanent delight, the impress of a distinct individuality, an +individuality remote from that of ordinary men, and coming near to us +only by virtue of a certain newness and wonder in the work, and through +channels whose very strangeness makes us more ready to give them welcome. + +_La personnalité_, said one of the greatest of modern French critics, +_voilà ce qui nous sauvera_. + +But above all things was it a return to Nature—that formula which seems +to suit so many and such diverse movements: they would draw and paint +nothing but what they saw, they would try and imagine things as they +really happened. Later there came to the old house by Blackfriars +Bridge, where this young brotherhood used to meet and work, two young men +from Oxford, Edward Burne-Jones and William Morris—the latter +substituting for the simpler realism of the early days a more exquisite +spirit of choice, a more faultless devotion to beauty, a more intense +seeking for perfection: a master of all exquisite design and of all +spiritual vision. It is of the school of Florence rather than of that of +Venice that he is kinsman, feeling that the close imitation of Nature is +a disturbing element in imaginative art. The visible aspect of modern +life disturbs him not; rather is it for him to render eternal all that is +beautiful in Greek, Italian, and Celtic legend. To Morris we owe poetry +whose perfect precision and clearness of word and vision has not been +excelled in the literature of our country, and by the revival of the +decorative arts he has given to our individualised romantic movement the +social idea and the social factor also. + +But the revolution accomplished by this clique of young men, with +Ruskin’s faultless and fervent eloquence to help them, was not one of +ideas merely but of execution, not one of conceptions but of creations. + +For the great eras in the history of the development of all the arts have +been eras not of increased feeling or enthusiasm in feeling for art, but +of new technical improvements primarily and specially. The discovery of +marble quarries in the purple ravines of Pentelicus and on the little +low-lying hills of the island of Paros gave to the Greeks the opportunity +for that intensified vitality of action, that more sensuous and simple +humanism, to which the Egyptian sculptor working laboriously in the hard +porphyry and rose-coloured granite of the desert could not attain. The +splendour of the Venetian school began with the introduction of the new +oil medium for painting. The progress in modern music has been due to +the invention of new instruments entirely, and in no way to an increased +consciousness on the part of the musician of any wider social aim. The +critic may try and trace the deferred resolutions of Beethoven {124} to +some sense of the incompleteness of the modern intellectual spirit, but +the artist would have answered, as one of them did afterwards, ‘Let them +pick out the fifths and leave us at peace.’ + +And so it is in poetry also: all this love of curious French metres like +the Ballade, the Villanelle, the Rondel; all this increased value laid on +elaborate alliterations, and on curious words and refrains, such as you +will find in Dante Rossetti and Swinburne, is merely the attempt to +perfect flute and viol and trumpet through which the spirit of the age +and the lips of the poet may blow the music of their many messages. + +And so it has been with this romantic movement of ours: it is a reaction +against the empty conventional workmanship, the lax execution of previous +poetry and painting, showing itself in the work of such men as Rossetti +and Burne-Jones by a far greater splendour of colour, a far more +intricate wonder of design than English imaginative art has shown before. +In Rossetti’s poetry and the poetry of Morris, Swinburne and Tennyson a +perfect precision and choice of language, a style flawless and fearless, +a seeking for all sweet and precious melodies and a sustaining +consciousness of the musical value of each word are opposed to that value +which is merely intellectual. In this respect they are one with the +romantic movement of France of which not the least characteristic note +was struck by Théophile Gautier’s advice to the young poet to read his +dictionary every day, as being the only book worth a poet’s reading. + +While, then, the material of workmanship is being thus elaborated and +discovered to have in itself incommunicable and eternal qualities of its +own, qualities entirely satisfying to the poetic sense and not needing +for their æsthetic effect any lofty intellectual vision, any deep +criticism of life or even any passionate human emotion at all, the spirit +and the method of the poet’s working—what people call his +inspiration—have not escaped the controlling influence of the artistic +spirit. Not that the imagination has lost its wings, but we have +accustomed ourselves to count their innumerable pulsations, to estimate +their limitless strength, to govern their ungovernable freedom. + +To the Greeks this problem of the conditions of poetic production, and +the places occupied by either spontaneity or self-consciousness in any +artistic work, had a peculiar fascination. We find it in the mysticism +of Plato and in the rationalism of Aristotle. We find it later in the +Italian Renaissance agitating the minds of such men as Leonardo da Vinci. +Schiller tried to adjust the balance between form and feeling, and Goethe +to estimate the position of self-consciousness in art. Wordsworth’s +definition of poetry as ‘emotion remembered in tranquillity’ may be taken +as an analysis of one of the stages through which all imaginative work +has to pass; and in Keats’s longing to be ‘able to compose without this +fever’ (I quote from one of his letters), his desire to substitute for +poetic ardour ‘a more thoughtful and quiet power,’ we may discern the +most important moment in the evolution of that artistic life. The +question made an early and strange appearance in your literature too; and +I need not remind you how deeply the young poets of the French romantic +movement were excited and stirred by Edgar Allan Poe’s analysis of the +workings of his own imagination in the creating of that supreme +imaginative work which we know by the name of _The Raven_. + +In the last century, when the intellectual and didactic element had +intruded to such an extent into the kingdom which belongs to poetry, it +was against the claims of the understanding that an artist like Goethe +had to protest. ‘The more incomprehensible to the understanding a poem +is the better for it,’ he said once, asserting the complete supremacy of +the imagination in poetry as of reason in prose. But in this century it +is rather against the claims of the emotional faculties, the claims of +mere sentiment and feeling, that the artist must react. The simple +utterance of joy is not poetry any more than a mere personal cry of pain, +and the real experiences of the artist are always those which do not find +their direct expression but are gathered up and absorbed into some +artistic form which seems, from such real experiences, to be the farthest +removed and the most alien. + +‘The heart contains passion but the imagination alone contains poetry,’ +says Charles Baudelaire. This too was the lesson that Théophile Gautier, +most subtle of all modern critics, most fascinating of all modern poets, +was never tired of teaching—‘Everybody is affected by a sunrise or a +sunset.’ The absolute distinction of the artist is not his capacity to +feel nature so much as his power of rendering it. The entire +subordination of all intellectual and emotional faculties to the vital +and informing poetic principle is the surest sign of the strength of our +Renaissance. + +We have seen the artistic spirit working, first in the delightful and +technical sphere of language, the sphere of expression as opposed to +subject, then controlling the imagination of the poet in dealing with his +subject. And now I would point out to you its operation in the choice of +subject. The recognition of a separate realm for the artist, a +consciousness of the absolute difference between the world of art and the +world of real fact, between classic grace and absolute reality, forms not +merely the essential element of any æsthetic charm but is the +characteristic of all great imaginative work and of all great eras of +artistic creation—of the age of Phidias as of the age of Michael Angelo, +of the age of Sophocles as of the age of Goethe. + +Art never harms itself by keeping aloof from the social problems of the +day: rather, by so doing, it more completely realises for us that which +we desire. For to most of us the real life is the life we do not lead, +and thus, remaining more true to the essence of its own perfection, more +jealous of its own unattainable beauty, is less likely to forget form in +feeling or to accept the passion of creation as any substitute for the +beauty of the created thing. + +The artist is indeed the child of his own age, but the present will not +be to him a whit more real than the past; for, like the philosopher of +the Platonic vision, the poet is the spectator of all time and of all +existence. For him no form is obsolete, no subject out of date; rather, +whatever of life and passion the world has known, in desert of Judæa or +in Arcadian valley, by the rivers of Troy or the rivers of Damascus, in +the crowded and hideous streets of a modern city or by the pleasant ways +of Camelot—all lies before him like an open scroll, all is still instinct +with beautiful life. He will take of it what is salutary for his own +spirit, no more; choosing some facts and rejecting others with the calm +artistic control of one who is in possession of the secret of beauty. + +There is indeed a poetical attitude to be adopted towards all things, but +all things are not fit subjects for poetry. Into the secure and sacred +house of Beauty the true artist will admit nothing that is harsh or +disturbing, nothing that gives pain, nothing that is debatable, nothing +about which men argue. He can steep himself, if he wishes, in the +discussion of all the social problems of his day, poor-laws and local +taxation, free trade and bimetallic currency, and the like; but when he +writes on these subjects it will be, as Milton nobly expressed it, with +his left hand, in prose and not in verse, in a pamphlet and not in a +lyric. This exquisite spirit of artistic choice was not in Byron: +Wordsworth had it not. In the work of both these men there is much that +we have to reject, much that does not give us that sense of calm and +perfect repose which should be the effect of all fine, imaginative work. +But in Keats it seemed to have been incarnate, and in his lovely _Ode on +a Grecian Urn_ it found its most secure and faultless expression; in the +pageant of the _Earthly Paradise_ and the knights and ladies of +Burne-Jones it is the one dominant note. + +It is to no avail that the Muse of Poetry be called, even by such a +clarion note as Whitman’s, to migrate from Greece and Ionia and to +placard REMOVED and TO LET on the rocks of the snowy Parnassus. +Calliope’s call is not yet closed, nor are the epics of Asia ended; the +Sphinx is not yet silent, nor the fountain of Castaly dry. For art is +very life itself and knows nothing of death; she is absolute truth and +takes no care of fact; she sees (as I remember Mr. Swinburne insisting on +at dinner) that Achilles is even now more actual and real than +Wellington, not merely more noble and interesting as a type and figure +but more positive and real. + +Literature must rest always on a principle, and temporal considerations +are no principle at all. For to the poet all times and places are one; +the stuff he deals with is eternal and eternally the same: no theme is +inept, no past or present preferable. The steam whistle will not +affright him nor the flutes of Arcadia weary him: for him there is but +one time, the artistic moment; but one law, the law of form; but one +land, the land of Beauty—a land removed indeed from the real world and +yet more sensuous because more enduring; calm, yet with that calm which +dwells in the faces of the Greek statues, the calm which comes not from +the rejection but from the absorption of passion, the calm which despair +and sorrow cannot disturb but intensify only. And so it comes that he +who seems to stand most remote from his age is he who mirrors it best, +because he has stripped life of what is accidental and transitory, +stripped it of that ‘mist of familiarity which makes life obscure to us.’ + +Those strange, wild-eyed sibyls fixed eternally in the whirlwind of +ecstasy, those mighty-limbed and Titan prophets, labouring with the +secret of the earth and the burden of mystery, that guard and glorify the +chapel of Pope Sixtus at Rome—do they not tell us more of the real spirit +of the Italian Renaissance, of the dream of Savonarola and of the sin of +Borgia, than all the brawling boors and cooking women of Dutch art can +teach us of the real spirit of the history of Holland? + +And so in our own day, also, the two most vital tendencies of the +nineteenth century—the democratic and pantheistic tendency and the +tendency to value life for the sake of art—found their most complete and +perfect utterance in the poetry of Shelley and Keats who, to the blind +eyes of their own time, seemed to be as wanderers in the wilderness, +preachers of vague or unreal things. And I remember once, in talking to +Mr. Burne-Jones about modern science, his saying to me, ‘the more +materialistic science becomes, the more angels shall I paint: their wings +are my protest in favour of the immortality of the soul.’ + +But these are the intellectual speculations that underlie art. Where in +the arts themselves are we to find that breadth of human sympathy which +is the condition of all noble work; where in the arts are we to look for +what Mazzini would call the social ideas as opposed to the merely +personal ideas? By virtue of what claim do I demand for the artist the +love and loyalty of the men and women of the world? I think I can answer +that. + +Whatever spiritual message an artist brings to his aid is a matter for +his own soul. He may bring judgment like Michael Angelo or peace like +Angelico; he may come with mourning like the great Athenian or with mirth +like the singer of Sicily; nor is it for us to do aught but accept his +teaching, knowing that we cannot smite the bitter lips of Leopardi into +laughter or burden with our discontent Goethe’s serene calm. But for +warrant of its truth such message must have the flame of eloquence in the +lips that speak it, splendour and glory in the vision that is its +witness, being justified by one thing only—the flawless beauty and +perfect form of its expression: this indeed being the social idea, being +the meaning of joy in art. + +Not laughter where none should laugh, nor the calling of peace where +there is no peace; not in painting the subject ever, but the pictorial +charm only, the wonder of its colour, the satisfying beauty of its +design. + +You have most of you seen, probably, that great masterpiece of Rubens +which hangs in the gallery of Brussels, that swift and wonderful pageant +of horse and rider arrested in its most exquisite and fiery moment when +the winds are caught in crimson banner and the air lit by the gleam of +armour and the flash of plume. Well, that is joy in art, though that +golden hillside be trodden by the wounded feet of Christ and it is for +the death of the Son of Man that that gorgeous cavalcade is passing. + +But this restless modern intellectual spirit of ours is not receptive +enough of the sensuous element of art; and so the real influence of the +arts is hidden from many of us: only a few, escaping from the tyranny of +the soul, have learned the secret of those high hours when thought is +not. + +And this indeed is the reason of the influence which Eastern art is +having on us in Europe, and of the fascination of all Japanese work. +While the Western world has been laying on art the intolerable burden of +its own intellectual doubts and the spiritual tragedy of its own sorrows, +the East has always kept true to art’s primary and pictorial conditions. + +In judging of a beautiful statue the æsthetic faculty is absolutely and +completely gratified by the splendid curves of those marble lips that are +dumb to our complaint, the noble modelling of those limbs that are +powerless to help us. In its primary aspect a painting has no more +spiritual message or meaning than an exquisite fragment of Venetian glass +or a blue tile from the wall of Damascus: it is a beautifully coloured +surface, nothing more. The channels by which all noble imaginative work +in painting should touch, and do touch the soul, are not those of the +truths of life, nor metaphysical truths. But that pictorial charm which +does not depend on any literary reminiscence for its effect on the one +hand, nor is yet a mere result of communicable technical skill on the +other, comes of a certain inventive and creative handling of colour. +Nearly always in Dutch painting and often in the works of Giorgione or +Titian, it is entirely independent of anything definitely poetical in the +subject, a kind of form and choice in workmanship which is itself +entirely satisfying, and is (as the Greeks would say) an end in itself. + +And so in poetry too, the real poetical quality, the joy of poetry, comes +never from the subject but from an inventive handling of rhythmical +language, from what Keats called the ‘sensuous life of verse.’ The +element of song in the singing accompanied by the profound joy of motion, +is so sweet that, while the incomplete lives of ordinary men bring no +healing power with them, the thorn-crown of the poet will blossom into +roses for our pleasure; for our delight his despair will gild its own +thorns, and his pain, like Adonis, be beautiful in its agony; and when +the poet’s heart breaks it will break in music. + +And health in art—what is that? It has nothing to do with a sane +criticism of life. There is more health in Baudelaire than there is in +[Kingsley]. Health is the artist’s recognition of the limitations of the +form in which he works. It is the honour and the homage which he gives +to the material he uses—whether it be language with its glories, or +marble or pigment with their glories—knowing that the true brotherhood of +the arts consists not in their borrowing one another’s method, but in +their producing, each of them by its own individual means, each of them +by keeping its objective limits, the same unique artistic delight. The +delight is like that given to us by music—for music is the art in which +form and matter are always one, the art whose subject cannot be separated +from the method of its expression, the art which most completely realises +the artistic ideal, and is the condition to which all the other arts are +constantly aspiring. + +And criticism—what place is that to have in our culture? Well, I think +that the first duty of an art critic is to hold his tongue at all times, +and upon all subjects: _C’est un grand avantage de n’avoir rien fait_, +_mais il ne faut pas en abuser_. + +It is only through the mystery of creation that one can gain any +knowledge of the quality of created things. You have listened to +_Patience_ for a hundred nights and you have heard me for one only. It +will make, no doubt, that satire more piquant by knowing something about +the subject of it, but you must not judge of æstheticism by the satire of +Mr. Gilbert. As little should you judge of the strength and splendour of +sun or sea by the dust that dances in the beam, or the bubble that breaks +on the wave, as take your critic for any sane test of art. For the +artists, like the Greek gods, are revealed only to one another, as +Emerson says somewhere; their real value and place time only can show. +In this respect also omnipotence is with the ages. The true critic +addresses not the artist ever but the public only. His work lies with +them. Art can never have any other claim but her own perfection: it is +for the critic to create for art the social aim, too, by teaching the +people the spirit in which they are to approach all artistic work, the +love they are to give it, the lesson they are to draw from it. + +All these appeals to art to set herself more in harmony with modern +progress and civilisation, and to make herself the mouthpiece for the +voice of humanity, these appeals to art ‘to have a mission,’ are appeals +which should be made to the public. The art which has fulfilled the +conditions of beauty has fulfilled all conditions: it is for the critic +to teach the people how to find in the calm of such art the highest +expression of their own most stormy passions. ‘I have no reverence,’ +said Keats, ‘for the public, nor for anything in existence but the +Eternal Being, the memory of great men and the principle of Beauty.’ + +Such then is the principle which I believe to be guiding and underlying +our English Renaissance, a Renaissance many-sided and wonderful, +productive of strong ambitions and lofty personalities, yet for all its +splendid achievements in poetry and in the decorative arts and in +painting, for all the increased comeliness and grace of dress, and the +furniture of houses and the like, not complete. For there can be no +great sculpture without a beautiful national life, and the commercial +spirit of England has killed that; no great drama without a noble +national life, and the commercial spirit of England has killed that too. + +It is not that the flawless serenity of marble cannot bear the burden of +the modern intellectual spirit, or become instinct with the fire of +romantic passion—the tomb of Duke Lorenzo and the chapel of the Medici +show us that—but it is that, as Théophile Gautier used to say, the +visible world is dead, _le monde visible a disparu_. + +Nor is it again that the novel has killed the play, as some critics would +persuade us—the romantic movement of France shows us that. The work of +Balzac and of Hugo grew up side by side together; nay, more, were +complementary to each other, though neither of them saw it. While all +other forms of poetry may flourish in an ignoble age, the splendid +individualism of the lyrist, fed by its own passion, and lit by its own +power, may pass as a pillar of fire as well across the desert as across +places that are pleasant. It is none the less glorious though no man +follow it—nay, by the greater sublimity of its loneliness it may be +quickened into loftier utterance and intensified into clearer song. From +the mean squalor of the sordid life that limits him, the dreamer or the +idyllist may soar on poesy’s viewless wings, may traverse with fawn-skin +and spear the moonlit heights of Cithæron though Faun and Bassarid dance +there no more. Like Keats he may wander through the old-world forests of +Latmos, or stand like Morris on the galley’s deck with the Viking when +king and galley have long since passed away. But the drama is the +meeting-place of art and life; it deals, as Mazzini said, not merely with +man, but with social man, with man in his relation to God and to +Humanity. It is the product of a period of great national united energy; +it is impossible without a noble public, and belongs to such ages as the +age of Elizabeth in London and of Pericles at Athens; it is part of such +lofty moral and spiritual ardour as came to Greek after the defeat of the +Persian fleet, and to Englishman after the wreck of the Armada of Spain. + +Shelley felt how incomplete our movement was in this respect, and has +shown in one great tragedy by what terror and pity he would have purified +our age; but in spite of _The Cenci_ the drama is one of the artistic +forms through which the genius of the England of this century seeks in +vain to find outlet and expression. He has had no worthy imitators. + +It is rather, perhaps, to you that we should turn to complete and perfect +this great movement of ours, for there is something Hellenic in your air +and world, something that has a quicker breath of the joy and power of +Elizabeth’s England about it than our ancient civilisation can give us. +For you, at least, are young; ‘no hungry generations tread you down,’ and +the past does not weary you with the intolerable burden of its memories +nor mock you with the ruins of a beauty, the secret of whose creation you +have lost. That very absence of tradition, which Mr. Ruskin thought +would rob your rivers of their laughter and your flowers of their light, +may be rather the source of your freedom and your strength. + +To speak in literature with the perfect rectitude and insouciance of the +movements of animals, and the unimpeachableness of the sentiment of trees +in the woods and grass by the roadside, has been defined by one of your +poets as a flawless triumph of art. It is a triumph which you above all +nations may be destined to achieve. For the voices that have their +dwelling in sea and mountain are not the chosen music of Liberty only; +other messages are there in the wonder of wind-swept height and the +majesty of silent deep—messages that, if you will but listen to them, may +yield you the splendour of some new imagination, the marvel of some new +beauty. + +‘I foresee,’ said Goethe, ‘the dawn of a new literature which all people +may claim as their own, for all have contributed to its foundation.’ If, +then, this is so, and if the materials for a civilisation as great as +that of Europe lie all around you, what profit, you will ask me, will all +this study of our poets and painters be to you? I might answer that the +intellect can be engaged without direct didactic object on an artistic +and historical problem; that the demand of the intellect is merely to +feel itself alive; that nothing which has ever interested men or women +can cease to be a fit subject for culture. + +I might remind you of what all Europe owes to the sorrow of a single +Florentine in exile at Verona, or to the love of Petrarch by that little +well in Southern France; nay, more, how even in this dull, materialistic +age the simple expression of an old man’s simple life, passed away from +the clamour of great cities amid the lakes and misty hills of Cumberland, +has opened out for England treasures of new joy compared with which the +treasures of her luxury are as barren as the sea which she has made her +highway, and as bitter as the fire which she would make her slave. + +But I think it will bring you something besides this, something that is +the knowledge of real strength in art: not that you should imitate the +works of these men; but their artistic spirit, their artistic attitude, I +think you should absorb that. + +For in nations, as in individuals, if the passion for creation be not +accompanied by the critical, the æsthetic faculty also, it will be sure +to waste its strength aimlessly, failing perhaps in the artistic spirit +of choice, or in the mistaking of feeling for form, or in the following +of false ideals. + +For the various spiritual forms of the imagination have a natural +affinity with certain sensuous forms of art—and to discern the qualities +of each art, to intensify as well its limitations as its powers of +expression, is one of the aims that culture sets before us. It is not an +increased moral sense, an increased moral supervision that your +literature needs. Indeed, one should never talk of a moral or an immoral +poem—poems are either well written or badly written, that is all. And, +indeed, any element of morals or implied reference to a standard of good +or evil in art is often a sign of a certain incompleteness of vision, +often a note of discord in the harmony of an imaginative creation; for +all good work aims at a purely artistic effect. ‘We must be careful,’ +said Goethe, ‘not to be always looking for culture merely in what is +obviously moral. Everything that is great promotes civilisation as soon +as we are aware of it.’ + +But, as in your cities so in your literature, it is a permanent canon and +standard of taste, an increased sensibility to beauty (if I may say so) +that is lacking. All noble work is not national merely, but universal. +The political independence of a nation must not be confused with any +intellectual isolation. The spiritual freedom, indeed, your own generous +lives and liberal air will give you. From us you will learn the +classical restraint of form. + +For all great art is delicate art, roughness having very little to do +with strength, and harshness very little to do with power. ‘The artist,’ +as Mr. Swinburne says, ‘must be perfectly articulate.’ + +This limitation is for the artist perfect freedom: it is at once the +origin and the sign of his strength. So that all the supreme masters of +style—Dante, Sophocles, Shakespeare—are the supreme masters of spiritual +and intellectual vision also. + +Love art for its own sake, and then all things that you need will be +added to you. + +This devotion to beauty and to the creation of beautiful things is the +test of all great civilised nations. Philosophy may teach us to bear +with equanimity the misfortunes of our neighbours, and science resolve +the moral sense into a secretion of sugar, but art is what makes the life +of each citizen a sacrament and not a speculation, art is what makes the +life of the whole race immortal. + +For beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm. Philosophies fall +away like sand, and creeds follow one another like the withered leaves of +autumn; but what is beautiful is a joy for all seasons and a possession +for all eternity. + +Wars and the clash of armies and the meeting of men in battle by trampled +field or leaguered city, and the rising of nations there must always be. +But I think that art, by creating a common intellectual atmosphere +between all countries, might—if it could not overshadow the world with +the silver wings of peace—at least make men such brothers that they would +not go out to slay one another for the whim or folly of some king or +minister, as they do in Europe. Fraternity would come no more with the +hands of Cain, nor Liberty betray freedom with the kiss of Anarchy; for +national hatreds are always strongest where culture is lowest. + +‘How could I?’ said Goethe, when reproached for not writing like Korner +against the French. ‘How could I, to whom barbarism and culture alone +are of importance, hate a nation which is among the most cultivated of +the earth, a nation to which I owe a great part of my own cultivation?’ + +Mighty empires, too, there must always be as long as personal ambition +and the spirit of the age are one, but art at least is the only empire +which a nation’s enemies cannot take from her by conquest, but which is +taken by submission only. The sovereignty of Greece and Rome is not yet +passed away, though the gods of the one be dead and the eagles of the +other tired. + +And we in our Renaissance are seeking to create a sovereignty that will +still be England’s when her yellow leopards have grown weary of wars and +the rose of her shield is crimsoned no more with the blood of battle; and +you, too, absorbing into the generous heart of a great people this +pervading artistic spirit, will create for yourselves such riches as you +have never yet created, though your land be a network of railways and +your cities the harbours for the galleys of the world. + +I know, indeed, that the divine natural prescience of beauty which is the +inalienable inheritance of Greek and Italian is not our inheritance. For +such an informing and presiding spirit of art to shield us from all harsh +and alien influences, we of the Northern races must turn rather to that +strained self-consciousness of our age which, as it is the key-note of +all our romantic art, must be the source of all or nearly all our +culture. I mean that intellectual curiosity of the nineteenth century +which is always looking for the secret of the life that still lingers +round old and bygone forms of culture. It takes from each what is +serviceable for the modern spirit—from Athens its wonder without its +worship, from Venice its splendour without its sin. The same spirit is +always analysing its own strength and its own weakness, counting what it +owes to East and to West, to the olive-trees of Colonus and to the +palm-trees of Lebanon, to Gethsemane and to the garden of Proserpine. + +And yet the truths of art cannot be taught: they are revealed only, +revealed to natures which have made themselves receptive of all beautiful +impressions by the study and worship of all beautiful things. And hence +the enormous importance given to the decorative arts in our English +Renaissance; hence all that marvel of design that comes from the hand of +Edward Burne-Jones, all that weaving of tapestry and staining of glass, +that beautiful working in clay and metal and wood which we owe to William +Morris, the greatest handicraftsman we have had in England since the +fourteenth century. + +So, in years to come there will be nothing in any man’s house which has +not given delight to its maker and does not give delight to its user. +The children, like the children of Plato’s perfect city, will grow up ‘in +a simple atmosphere of all fair things’—I quote from the passage in the +_Republic_—‘a simple atmosphere of all fair things, where beauty, which +is the spirit of art, will come on eye and ear like a fresh breath of +wind that brings health from a clear upland, and insensibly and gradually +draw the child’s soul into harmony with all knowledge and all wisdom, so +that he will love what is beautiful and good, and hate what is evil and +ugly (for they always go together) long before he knows the reason why; +and then when reason comes will kiss her on the cheek as a friend.’ + +That is what Plato thought decorative art could do for a nation, feeling +that the secret not of philosophy merely but of all gracious existence +might be externally hidden from any one whose youth had been passed in +uncomely and vulgar surroundings, and that the beauty of form and colour +even, as he says, in the meanest vessels of the house, will find its way +into the inmost places of the soul and lead the boy naturally to look for +that divine harmony of spiritual life of which art was to him the +material symbol and warrant. + +Prelude indeed to all knowledge and all wisdom will this love of +beautiful things be for us; yet there are times when wisdom becomes a +burden and knowledge is one with sorrow: for as every body has its shadow +so every soul has its scepticism. In such dread moments of discord and +despair where should we, of this torn and troubled age, turn our steps if +not to that secure house of beauty where there is always a little +forgetfulness, always a great joy; to that _città divina_, as the old +Italian heresy called it, the divine city where one can stand, though +only for a brief moment, apart from the division and terror of the world +and the choice of the world too? + +This is that _consolation des arts_ which is the key-note of Gautier’s +poetry, the secret of modern life foreshadowed—as indeed what in our +century is not?—by Goethe. You remember what he said to the German +people: ‘Only have the courage,’ he said, ‘to give yourselves up to your +impressions, allow yourselves to be delighted, moved, elevated, nay +instructed, inspired for something great.’ The courage to give +yourselves up to your impressions: yes, that is the secret of the +artistic life—for while art has been defined as an escape from the +tyranny of the senses, it is an escape rather from the tyranny of the +soul. But only to those who worship her above all things does she ever +reveal her true treasure: else will she be as powerless to aid you as the +mutilated Venus of the Louvre was before the romantic but sceptical +nature of Heine. + +And indeed I think it would be impossible to overrate the gain that might +follow if we had about us only what gave pleasure to the maker of it and +gives pleasure to its user, that being the simplest of all rules about +decoration. One thing, at least, I think it would do for us: there is no +surer test of a great country than how near it stands to its own poets; +but between the singers of our day and the workers to whom they would +sing there seems to be an ever-widening and dividing chasm, a chasm which +slander and mockery cannot traverse, but which is spanned by the luminous +wings of love. + +And of such love I think that the abiding presence in our houses of noble +imaginative work would be the surest seed and preparation. I do not mean +merely as regards that direct literary expression of art by which, from +the little red-and-black cruse of oil or wine, a Greek boy could learn of +the lionlike splendour of Achilles, of the strength of Hector and the +beauty of Paris and the wonder of Helen, long before he stood and +listened in crowded market-place or in theatre of marble; or by which an +Italian child of the fifteenth century could know of the chastity of +Lucrece and the death of Camilla from carven doorway and from painted +chest. For the good we get from art is not what we learn from it; it is +what we become through it. Its real influence will be in giving the mind +that enthusiasm which is the secret of Hellenism, accustoming it to +demand from art all that art can do in rearranging the facts of common +life for us—whether it be by giving the most spiritual interpretation of +one’s own moments of highest passion or the most sensuous expression of +those thoughts that are the farthest removed from sense; in accustoming +it to love the things of the imagination for their own sake, and to +desire beauty and grace in all things. For he who does not love art in +all things does not love it at all, and he who does not need art in all +things does not need it at all. + +I will not dwell here on what I am sure has delighted you all in our +great Gothic cathedrals. I mean how the artist of that time, +handicraftsman himself in stone or glass, found the best motives for his +art, always ready for his hand and always beautiful, in the daily work of +the artificers he saw around him—as in those lovely windows of +Chartres—where the dyer dips in the vat and the potter sits at the wheel, +and the weaver stands at the loom: real manufacturers these, workers with +the hand, and entirely delightful to look at, not like the smug and vapid +shopman of our time, who knows nothing of the web or vase he sells, +except that he is charging you double its value and thinking you a fool +for buying it. Nor can I but just note, in passing, the immense +influence the decorative work of Greece and Italy had on its artists, the +one teaching the sculptor that restraining influence of design which is +the glory of the Parthenon, the other keeping painting always true to its +primary, pictorial condition of noble colour which is the secret of the +school of Venice; for I wish rather, in this lecture at least, to dwell +on the effect that decorative art has on human life—on its social not its +purely artistic effect. + +There are two kinds of men in the world, two great creeds, two different +forms of natures: men to whom the end of life is action, and men to whom +the end of life is thought. As regards the latter, who seek for +experience itself and not for the fruits of experience, who must burn +always with one of the passions of this fiery-coloured world, who find +life interesting not for its secret but for its situations, for its +pulsations and not for its purpose; the passion for beauty engendered by +the decorative arts will be to them more satisfying than any political or +religious enthusiasm, any enthusiasm for humanity, any ecstasy or sorrow +for love. For art comes to one professing primarily to give nothing but +the highest quality to one’s moments, and for those moments’ sake. So +far for those to whom the end of life is thought. As regards the others, +who hold that life is inseparable from labour, to them should this +movement be specially dear: for, if our days are barren without industry, +industry without art is barbarism. + +Hewers of wood and drawers of water there must be always indeed among us. +Our modern machinery has not much lightened the labour of man after all: +but at least let the pitcher that stands by the well be beautiful and +surely the labour of the day will be lightened: let the wood be made +receptive of some lovely form, some gracious design, and there will come +no longer discontent but joy to the toiler. For what is decoration but +the worker’s expression of joy in his work? And not joy merely—that is a +great thing yet not enough—but that opportunity of expressing his own +individuality which, as it is the essence of all life, is the source of +all art. ‘I have tried,’ I remember William Morris saying to me once, ‘I +have tried to make each of my workers an artist, and when I say an artist +I mean a man.’ For the worker then, handicraftsman of whatever kind he +is, art is no longer to be a purple robe woven by a slave and thrown over +the whitened body of a leprous king to hide and to adorn the sin of his +luxury, but rather the beautiful and noble expression of a life that has +in it something beautiful and noble. + +And so you must seek out your workman and give him, as far as possible, +the right surroundings, for remember that the real test and virtue of a +workman is not his earnestness nor his industry even, but his power of +design merely; and that ‘design is not the offspring of idle fancy: it is +the studied result of accumulative observation and delightful habit.’ +All the teaching in the world is of no avail if you do not surround your +workman with happy influences and with beautiful things. It is +impossible for him to have right ideas about colour unless he sees the +lovely colours of Nature unspoiled; impossible for him to supply +beautiful incident and action unless he sees beautiful incident and +action in the world about him. + +For to cultivate sympathy you must be among living things and thinking +about them, and to cultivate admiration you must be among beautiful +things and looking at them. ‘The steel of Toledo and the silk of Genoa +did but give strength to oppression and lustre to pride,’ as Mr. Ruskin +says; let it be for you to create an art that is made by the hands of the +people for the joy of the people, to please the hearts of the people, +too; an art that will be your expression of your delight in life. There +is nothing ‘in common life too mean, in common things too trivial to be +ennobled by your touch’; nothing in life that art cannot sanctify. + +You have heard, I think, a few of you, of two flowers connected with the +æsthetic movement in England, and said (I assure you, erroneously) to be +the food of some æsthetic young men. Well, let me tell you that the +reason we love the lily and the sunflower, in spite of what Mr. Gilbert +may tell you, is not for any vegetable fashion at all. It is because +these two lovely flowers are in England the two most perfect models of +design, the most naturally adapted for decorative art—the gaudy leonine +beauty of the one and the precious loveliness of the other giving to the +artist the most entire and perfect joy. And so with you: let there be no +flower in your meadows that does not wreathe its tendrils around your +pillows, no little leaf in your Titan forests that does not lend its form +to design, no curving spray of wild rose or brier that does not live for +ever in carven arch or window or marble, no bird in your air that is not +giving the iridescent wonder of its colour, the exquisite curves of its +wings in flight, to make more precious the preciousness of simple +adornment. + +We spend our days, each one of us, in looking for the secret of life. +Well, the secret of life is in art. + + + + +HOUSE DECORATION + + +A lecture delivered in America during Wilde’s tour in 1882. It was +announced as a lecture on ‘The Practical Application of the Principles of +Æsthetic Theory to Exterior and Interior House Decoration, With +Observations upon Dress and Personal Ornaments.’ The earliest date on +which it is known to have been given is May 11, 1882. + +IN my last lecture I gave you something of the history of Art in England. +I sought to trace the influence of the French Revolution upon its +development. I said something of the song of Keats and the school of the +pre-Raphaelites. But I do not want to shelter the movement, which I have +called the English Renaissance, under any palladium however noble, or any +name however revered. The roots of it have, indeed, to be sought for in +things that have long passed away, and not, as some suppose, in the fancy +of a few young men—although I am not altogether sure that there is +anything much better than the fancy of a few young men. + +When I appeared before you on a previous occasion, I had seen nothing of +American art save the Doric columns and Corinthian chimney-pots visible +on your Broadway and Fifth Avenue. Since then, I have been through your +country to some fifty or sixty different cities, I think. I find that +what your people need is not so much high imaginative art but that which +hallows the vessels of everyday use. I suppose that the poet will sing +and the artist will paint regardless whether the world praises or blames. +He has his own world and is independent of his fellow-men. But the +handicraftsman is dependent on your pleasure and opinion. He needs your +encouragement and he must have beautiful surroundings. Your people love +art but do not sufficiently honour the handicraftsman. Of course, those +millionaires who can pillage Europe for their pleasure need have no care +to encourage such; but I speak for those whose desire for beautiful +things is larger than their means. I find that one great trouble all +over is that your workmen are not given to noble designs. You cannot be +indifferent to this, because Art is not something which you can take or +leave. It is a necessity of human life. + +And what is the meaning of this beautiful decoration which we call art? +In the first place, it means value to the workman and it means the +pleasure which he must necessarily take in making a beautiful thing. The +mark of all good art is not that the thing done is done exactly or +finely, for machinery may do as much, but that it is worked out with the +head and the workman’s heart. I cannot impress the point too frequently +that beautiful and rational designs are necessary in all work. I did not +imagine, until I went into some of your simpler cities, that there was so +much bad work done. I found, where I went, bad wall-papers horribly +designed, and coloured carpets, and that old offender the horse-hair +sofa, whose stolid look of indifference is always so depressing. I found +meaningless chandeliers and machine-made furniture, generally of +rosewood, which creaked dismally under the weight of the ubiquitous +interviewer. I came across the small iron stove which they always +persist in decorating with machine-made ornaments, and which is as great +a bore as a wet day or any other particularly dreadful institution. When +unusual extravagance was indulged in, it was garnished with two funeral +urns. + +It must always be remembered that what is well and carefully made by an +honest workman, after a rational design, increases in beauty and value as +the years go on. The old furniture brought over by the Pilgrims, two +hundred years ago, which I saw in New England, is just as good and as +beautiful to-day as it was when it first came here. Now, what you must +do is to bring artists and handicraftsmen together. Handicraftsmen +cannot live, certainly cannot thrive, without such companionship. +Separate these two and you rob art of all spiritual motive. + +Having done this, you must place your workman in the midst of beautiful +surroundings. The artist is not dependent on the visible and the +tangible. He has his visions and his dreams to feed on. But the workman +must see lovely forms as he goes to his work in the morning and returns +at eventide. And, in connection with this, I want to assure you that +noble and beautiful designs are never the result of idle fancy or +purposeless day-dreaming. They come only as the accumulation of habits +of long and delightful observation. And yet such things may not be +taught. Right ideas concerning them can certainly be obtained only by +those who have been accustomed to rooms that are beautiful and colours +that are satisfying. + +Perhaps one of the most difficult things for us to do is to choose a +notable and joyous dress for men. There would be more joy in life if we +were to accustom ourselves to use all the beautiful colours we can in +fashioning our own clothes. The dress of the future, I think, will use +drapery to a great extent and will abound with joyous colour. At present +we have lost all nobility of dress and, in doing so, have almost +annihilated the modern sculptor. And, in looking around at the figures +which adorn our parks, one could almost wish that we had completely +killed the noble art. To see the frock-coat of the drawing-room done in +bronze, or the double waistcoat perpetuated in marble, adds a new horror +to death. But indeed, in looking through the history of costume, seeking +an answer to the questions we have propounded, there is little that is +either beautiful or appropriate. One of the earliest forms is the Greek +drapery which is exquisite for young girls. And then, I think we may be +pardoned a little enthusiasm over the dress of the time of Charles I., so +beautiful indeed, that in spite of its invention being with the Cavaliers +it was copied by the Puritans. And the dress for the children of that +time must not be passed over. It was a very golden age of the little +ones. I do not think that they have ever looked so lovely as they do in +the pictures of that time. The dress of the last century in England is +also peculiarly gracious and graceful. There is nothing bizarre or +strange about it, but it is full of harmony and beauty. In these days, +when we have suffered dreadfully from the incursions of the modern +milliner, we hear ladies boast that they do not wear a dress more than +once. In the old days, when the dresses were decorated with beautiful +designs and worked with exquisite embroidery, ladies rather took a pride +in bringing out the garment and wearing it many times and handing it down +to their daughters—a process that would, I think, be quite appreciated by +a modern husband when called upon to settle his wife’s bills. + +And how shall men dress? Men say that they do not particularly care how +they dress, and that it is little matter. I am bound to reply that I do +not think that you do. In all my journeys through the country, the only +well-dressed men that I saw—and in saying this I earnestly deprecate the +polished indignation of your Fifth Avenue dandies—were the Western +miners. Their wide-brimmed hats, which shaded their faces from the sun +and protected them from the rain, and the cloak, which is by far the most +beautiful piece of drapery ever invented, may well be dwelt on with +admiration. Their high boots, too, were sensible and practical. They +wore only what was comfortable, and therefore beautiful. As I looked at +them I could not help thinking with regret of the time when these +picturesque miners would have made their fortunes and would go East to +assume again all the abominations of modern fashionable attire. Indeed, +so concerned was I that I made some of them promise that when they again +appeared in the more crowded scenes of Eastern civilisation they would +still continue to wear their lovely costume. But I do not believe they +will. + +Now, what America wants to-day is a school of rational art. Bad art is a +great deal worse than no art at all. You must show your workmen +specimens of good work so that they come to know what is simple and true +and beautiful. To that end I would have you have a museum attached to +these schools—not one of those dreadful modern institutions where there +is a stuffed and very dusty giraffe, and a case or two of fossils, but a +place where there are gathered examples of art decoration from various +periods and countries. Such a place is the South Kensington Museum in +London, whereon we build greater hopes for the future than on any other +one thing. There I go every Saturday night, when the museum is open +later than usual, to see the handicraftsman, the wood-worker, the +glass-blower and the worker in metals. And it is here that the man of +refinement and culture comes face to face with the workman who ministers +to his joy. He comes to know more of the nobility of the workman, and +the workman, feeling the appreciation, comes to know more of the nobility +of his work. + +You have too many white walls. More colour is wanted. You should have +such men as Whistler among you to teach you the beauty and joy of colour. +Take Mr. Whistler’s ‘Symphony in White,’ which you no doubt have imagined +to be something quite bizarre. It is nothing of the sort. Think of a +cool grey sky flecked here and there with white clouds, a grey ocean and +three wonderfully beautiful figures robed in white, leaning over the +water and dropping white flowers from their fingers. Here is no +extensive intellectual scheme to trouble you, and no metaphysics of which +we have had quite enough in art. But if the simple and unaided colour +strike the right key-note, the whole conception is made clear. I regard +Mr. Whistler’s famous Peacock Room as the finest thing in colour and art +decoration which the world has known since Correggio painted that +wonderful room in Italy where the little children are dancing on the +walls. Mr. Whistler finished another room just before I came away—a +breakfast room in blue and yellow. The ceiling was a light blue, the +cabinet-work and the furniture were of a yellow wood, the curtains at the +windows were white and worked in yellow, and when the table was set for +breakfast with dainty blue china nothing can be conceived at once so +simple and so joyous. + +The fault which I have observed in most of your rooms is that there is +apparent no definite scheme of colour. Everything is not attuned to a +key-note as it should be. The apartments are crowded with pretty things +which have no relation to one another. Again, your artists must decorate +what is more simply useful. In your art schools I found no attempt to +decorate such things as the vessels for water. I know of nothing uglier +than the ordinary jug or pitcher. A museum could be filled with the +different kinds of water vessels which are used in hot countries. Yet we +continue to submit to the depressing jug with the handle all on one side. +I do not see the wisdom of decorating dinner-plates with sunsets and +soup-plates with moonlight scenes. I do not think it adds anything to +the pleasure of the canvas-back duck to take it out of such glories. +Besides, we do not want a soup-plate whose bottom seems to vanish in the +distance. One feels neither safe nor comfortable under such conditions. +In fact, I did not find in the art schools of the country that the +difference was explained between decorative and imaginative art. + +The conditions of art should be simple. A great deal more depends upon +the heart than upon the head. Appreciation of art is not secured by any +elaborate scheme of learning. Art requires a good healthy atmosphere. +The motives for art are still around about us as they were round about +the ancients. And the subjects are also easily found by the earnest +sculptor and the painter. Nothing is more picturesque and graceful than +a man at work. The artist who goes to the children’s playground, watches +them at their sport and sees the boy stoop to tie his shoe, will find the +same themes that engaged the attention of the ancient Greeks, and such +observation and the illustrations which follow will do much to correct +that foolish impression that mental and physical beauty are always +divorced. + +To you, more than perhaps to any other country, has Nature been generous +in furnishing material for art workers to work in. You have marble +quarries where the stone is more beautiful in colour than any the Greeks +ever had for their beautiful work, and yet day after day I am confronted +with the great building of some stupid man who has used the beautiful +material as if it were not precious almost beyond speech. Marble should +not be used save by noble workmen. There is nothing which gave me a +greater sense of barrenness in travelling through the country than the +entire absence of wood carving on your houses. Wood carving is the +simplest of the decorative arts. In Switzerland the little barefooted +boy beautifies the porch of his father’s house with examples of skill in +this direction. Why should not American boys do a great deal more and +better than Swiss boys? + +There is nothing to my mind more coarse in conception and more vulgar in +execution than modern jewellery. This is something that can easily be +corrected. Something better should be made out of the beautiful gold +which is stored up in your mountain hollows and strewn along your river +beds. When I was at Leadville and reflected that all the shining silver +that I saw coming from the mines would be made into ugly dollars, it made +me sad. It should be made into something more permanent. The golden +gates at Florence are as beautiful to-day as when Michael Angelo saw +them. + +We should see more of the workman than we do. We should not be content +to have the salesman stand between us—the salesman who knows nothing of +what he is selling save that he is charging a great deal too much for it. +And watching the workman will teach that most important lesson—the +nobility of all rational workmanship. + +I said in my last lecture that art would create a new brotherhood among +men by furnishing a universal language. I said that under its beneficent +influences war might pass away. Thinking this, what place can I ascribe +to art in our education? If children grow up among all fair and lovely +things, they will grow to love beauty and detest ugliness before they +know the reason why. If you go into a house where everything is coarse, +you find things chipped and broken and unsightly. Nobody exercises any +care. If everything is dainty and delicate, gentleness and refinement of +manner are unconsciously acquired. When I was in San Francisco I used to +visit the Chinese Quarter frequently. There I used to watch a great +hulking Chinese workman at his task of digging, and used to see him every +day drink his tea from a little cup as delicate in texture as the petal +of a flower, whereas in all the grand hotels of the land, where thousands +of dollars have been lavished on great gilt mirrors and gaudy columns, I +have been given my coffee or my chocolate in cups an inch and a quarter +thick. I think I have deserved something nicer. + +The art systems of the past have been devised by philosophers who looked +upon human beings as obstructions. They have tried to educate boys’ +minds before they had any. How much better it would be in these early +years to teach children to use their hands in the rational service of +mankind. I would have a workshop attached to every school, and one hour +a day given up to the teaching of simple decorative arts. It would be a +golden hour to the children. And you would soon raise up a race of +handicraftsmen who would transform the face of your country. I have seen +only one such school in the United States, and this was in Philadelphia +and was founded by my friend Mr. Leyland. I stopped there yesterday and +have brought some of the work here this afternoon to show you. Here are +two disks of beaten brass: the designs on them are beautiful, the +workmanship is simple, and the entire result is satisfactory. The work +was done by a little boy twelve years old. This is a wooden bowl +decorated by a little girl of thirteen. The design is lovely and the +colouring delicate and pretty. Here you see a piece of beautiful wood +carving accomplished by a little boy of nine. In such work as this, +children learn sincerity in art. They learn to abhor the liar in art—the +man who paints wood to look like iron, or iron to look like stone. It is +a practical school of morals. No better way is there to learn to love +Nature than to understand Art. It dignifies every flower of the field. +And, the boy who sees the thing of beauty which a bird on the wing +becomes when transferred to wood or canvas will probably not throw the +customary stone. What we want is something spiritual added to life. +Nothing is so ignoble that Art cannot sanctify it. + + + + +ART AND THE HANDICRAFTSMAN + + +The fragments of which this lecture is composed are taken entirely from +the original manuscripts which have but recently been discovered. It is +not certain that they all belong to the same lecture, nor that all were +written at the same period. Some portions were written in Philadelphia +in 1882. + +PEOPLE often talk as if there was an opposition between what is beautiful +and what is useful. There is no opposition to beauty except ugliness: +all things are either beautiful or ugly, and utility will be always on +the side of the beautiful thing, because beautiful decoration is always +on the side of the beautiful thing, because beautiful decoration is +always an expression of the use you put a thing to and the value placed +on it. No workman will beautifully decorate bad work, nor can you +possibly get good handicraftsmen or workmen without having beautiful +designs. You should be quite sure of that. If you have poor and +worthless designs in any craft or trade you will get poor and worthless +workmen only, but the minute you have noble and beautiful designs, then +you get men of power and intellect and feeling to work for you. By +having good designs you have workmen who work not merely with their hands +but with their hearts and heads too; otherwise you will get merely the +fool or the loafer to work for you. + +That the beauty of life is a thing of no moment, I suppose few people +would venture to assert. And yet most civilised people act as if it were +of none, and in so doing are wronging both themselves and those that are +to come after them. For that beauty which is meant by art is no mere +accident of human life which people can take or leave, but a positive +necessity of life if we are to live as nature meant us to, that is to say +unless we are content to be less than men. + +Do not think that the commercial spirit which is the basis of your life +and cities here is opposed to art. Who built the beautiful cities of the +world but commercial men and commercial men only? Genoa built by its +traders, Florence by its bankers, and Venice, most lovely of all, by its +noble and honest merchants. + +I do not wish you, remember, ‘to build a new Pisa,’ nor to bring ‘the +life or the decorations of the thirteenth century back again.’ ‘The +circumstances with which you must surround your workmen are those’ of +modern American life, ‘because the designs you have now to ask for from +your workmen are such as will make modern’ American ‘life beautiful.’ +The art we want is the art based on all the inventions of modern +civilisation, and to suit all the needs of nineteenth-century life. + +Do you think, for instance, that we object to machinery? I tell you we +reverence it; we reverence it when it does its proper work, when it +relieves man from ignoble and soulless labour, not when it seeks to do +that which is valuable only when wrought by the hands and hearts of men. +Let us have no machine-made ornament at all; it is all bad and worthless +and ugly. And let us not mistake the means of civilisation for the end +of civilisation; steam-engine, telephone and the like, are all wonderful, +but remember that their value depends entirely on the noble uses we make +of them, on the noble spirit in which we employ them, not on the things +themselves. + +It is, no doubt, a great advantage to talk to a man at the Antipodes +through a telephone; its advantage depends entirely on the value of what +the two men have to say to one another. If one merely shrieks slander +through a tube and the other whispers folly into a wire, do not think +that anybody is very much benefited by the invention. + +The train that whirls an ordinary Englishman through Italy at the rate of +forty miles an hour and finally sends him home without any memory of that +lovely country but that he was cheated by a courier at Rome, or that he +got a bad dinner at Verona, does not do him or civilisation much good. +But that swift legion of fiery-footed engines that bore to the burning +ruins of Chicago the loving help and generous treasure of the world was +as noble and as beautiful as any golden troop of angels that ever fed the +hungry and clothed the naked in the antique times. As beautiful, yes; +all machinery may be beautiful when it is undecorated even. Do not seek +to decorate it. We cannot but think all good machinery is graceful, +also, the line of strength and the line of beauty being one. + +Give then, as I said, to your workmen of to-day the bright and noble +surroundings that you can yourself create. Stately and simple +architecture for your cities, bright and simple dress for your men and +women; those are the conditions of a real artistic movement. For the +artist is not concerned primarily with any theory of life but with life +itself, with the joy and loveliness that should come daily on eye and ear +for a beautiful external world. + +But the simplicity must not be barrenness nor the bright colour gaudy. +For all beautiful colours are graduated colours, the colours that seem +about to pass into one another’s realm—colour without tone being like +music without harmony, mere discord. Barren architecture, the vulgar and +glaring advertisements that desecrate not merely your cities but every +rock and river that I have seen yet in America—all this is not enough. A +school of design we must have too in each city. It should be a stately +and noble building, full of the best examples of the best art of the +world. Furthermore, do not put your designers in a barren whitewashed +room and bid them work in that depressing and colourless atmosphere as I +have seen many of the American schools of design, but give them beautiful +surroundings. Because you want to produce a permanent canon and standard +of taste in your workman, he must have always by him and before him +specimens of the best decorative art of the world, so that you can say to +him: ‘This is good work. Greek or Italian or Japanese wrought it so many +years ago, but it is eternally young because eternally beautiful.’ Work +in this spirit and you will be sure to be right. Do not copy it, but +work with the same love, the same reverence, the same freedom of +imagination. You must teach him colour and design, how all beautiful +colours are graduated colours and glaring colours the essence of +vulgarity. Show him the quality of any beautiful work of nature like the +rose, or any beautiful work of art like an Eastern carpet—being merely +the exquisite gradation of colour, one tone answering another like the +answering chords of a symphony. Teach him how the true designer is not +he who makes the design and then colours it, but he who designs in +colour, creates in colour, thinks in colour too. Show him how the most +gorgeous stained-glass windows of Europe are filled with white glass, and +the most gorgeous Eastern tapestry with toned colours—the primary colours +in both places being set in the white glass, and the tone colours like +brilliant jewels set in dusky gold. And then as regards design, show him +how the real designer will take first any given limited space, little +disk of silver, it may be, like a Greek coin, or wide expanse of fretted +ceiling or lordly wall as Tintoret chose at Venice (it does not matter +which), and to this limited space—the first condition of decoration being +the limitation of the size of the material used—he will give the effect +of its being filled with beautiful decoration, filled with it as a golden +cup will be filled with wine, so complete that you should not be able to +take away anything from it or add anything to it. For from a good piece +of design you can take away nothing, nor can you add anything to it, each +little bit of design being as absolutely necessary and as vitally +important to the whole effect as a note or chord of music is for a sonata +of Beethoven. + +But I said the effect of its being so filled, because this, again, is of +the essence of good design. With a simple spray of leaves and a bird in +flight a Japanese artist will give you the impression that he has +completely covered with lovely design the reed fan or lacquer cabinet at +which he is working, merely because he knows the exact spot in which to +place them. All good design depends on the texture of the utensil used +and the use you wish to put it to. One of the first things I saw in an +American school of design was a young lady painting a romantic moonlight +landscape on a large round dish, and another young lady covering a set of +dinner plates with a series of sunsets of the most remarkable colours. +Let your ladies paint moonlight landscapes and sunsets, but do not let +them paint them on dinner plates or dishes. Let them take canvas or +paper for such work, but not clay or china. They are merely painting the +wrong subjects on the wrong material, that is all. They have not been +taught that every material and texture has certain qualities of its own. +The design suitable for one is quite wrong for the other, just as the +design which you should work on a flat table-cover ought to be quite +different from the design you would work on a curtain, for the one will +always be straight, the other broken into folds; and the use too one puts +the object to should guide one in the choice of design. One does not +want to eat one’s terrapins off a romantic moonlight nor one’s clams off +a harrowing sunset. Glory of sun and moon, let them be wrought for us by +our landscape artist and be on the walls of the rooms we sit in to remind +us of the undying beauty of the sunsets that fade and die, but do not let +us eat our soup off them and send them down to the kitchen twice a day to +be washed and scrubbed by the handmaid. + +All these things are simple enough, yet nearly always forgotten. Your +school of design here will teach your girls and your boys, your +handicraftsmen of the future (for all your schools of art should be local +schools, the schools of particular cities). We talk of the Italian +school of painting, but there is no Italian school; there were the +schools of each city. Every town in Italy, from Venice itself, queen of +the sea, to the little hill fortress of Perugia, each had its own school +of art, each different and all beautiful. + +So do not mind what art Philadelphia or New York is having, but make by +the hands of your own citizens beautiful art for the joy of your own +citizens, for you have here the primary elements of a great artistic +movement. + +For, believe me, the conditions of art are much simpler than people +imagine. For the noblest art one requires a clear healthy atmosphere, +not polluted as the air of our English cities is by the smoke and grime +and horridness which comes from open furnace and from factory chimney. +You must have strong, sane, healthy physique among your men and women. +Sickly or idle or melancholy people do not do much in art. And lastly, +you require a sense of individualism about each man and woman, for this +is the essence of art—a desire on the part of man to express himself in +the noblest way possible. And this is the reason that the grandest art +of the world always came from a republic: Athens, Venice, and +Florence—there were no kings there and so their art was as noble and +simple as sincere. But if you want to know what kind of art the folly of +kings will impose on a country look at the decorative art of France under +the _grand monarque_, under Louis the Fourteenth; the gaudy gilt +furniture writhing under a sense of its own horror and ugliness, with a +nymph smirking at every angle and a dragon mouthing on every claw. +Unreal and monstrous art this, and fit only for such periwigged +pomposities as the nobility of France at that time, but not at all fit +for you or me. We do not want the rich to possess more beautiful things +but the poor to create more beautiful things; for ever man is poor who +cannot create. Nor shall the art which you and I need be merely a purple +robe woven by a slave and thrown over the whitened body of some leprous +king to adorn or to conceal the sin of his luxury, but rather shall it be +the noble and beautiful expression of a people’s noble and beautiful +life. Art shall be again the most glorious of all the chords through +which the spirit of a great nation finds its noblest utterance. + +All around you, I said, lie the conditions for a great artistic movement +for every great art. Let us think of one of them; a sculptor, for +instance. + +If a modern sculptor were to come and say, ‘Very well, but where can one +find subjects for sculpture out of men who wear frock-coats and +chimney-pot hats?’ I would tell him to go to the docks of a great city +and watch the men loading or unloading the stately ships, working at +wheel or windlass, hauling at rope or gangway. I have never watched a +man do anything useful who has not been graceful at some moment of his +labour: it is only the loafer and the idle saunterer who is as useless +and uninteresting to the artist as he is to himself. I would ask the +sculptor to go with me to any of your schools or universities, to the +running ground and gymnasium, to watch the young men start for a race, +hurling quoit or club, kneeling to tie their shoes before leaping, +stepping from the boat or bending to the oar, and to carve them; and when +he was weary of cities I would ask him to come to your fields and meadows +to watch the reaper with his sickle and the cattle-driver with lifted +lasso. For if a man cannot find the noblest motives for his art in such +simple daily things as a woman drawing water from the well or a man +leaning with his scythe, he will not find them anywhere at all. Gods and +goddesses the Greek carved because he loved them; saint and king the Goth +because he believed in them. But you, you do not care much for Greek +gods and goddesses, and you are perfectly and entirely right; and you do +not think much of kings either, and you are quite right. But what you do +love are your own men and women, your own flowers and fields, your own +hills and mountains, and these are what your art should represent to you. + +Ours has been the first movement which has brought the handicraftsman and +the artist together, for remember that by separating the one from the +other you do ruin to both; you rob the one of all spiritual motive and +all imaginative joy, you isolate the other from all real technical +perfection. The two greatest schools of art in the world, the sculptor +at Athens and the school of painting at Venice, had their origin entirely +in a long succession of simple and earnest handicraftsmen. It was the +Greek potter who taught the sculptor that restraining influence of design +which was the glory of the Parthenon; it was the Italian decorator of +chests and household goods who kept Venetian painting always true to its +primary pictorial condition of noble colour. For we should remember that +all the arts are fine arts and all the arts decorative arts. The +greatest triumph of Italian painting was the decoration of a pope’s +chapel in Rome and the wall of a room in Venice. Michael Angelo wrought +the one, and Tintoret, the dyer’s son, the other. And the little ‘Dutch +landscape, which you put over your sideboard to-day, and between the +windows to-morrow, is’ no less a glorious ‘piece of work than the extents +of field and forest with which Benozzo has made green and beautiful the +once melancholy arcade of the Campo Santo at Pisa,’ as Ruskin says. + +Do not imitate the works of a nation, Greek or Japanese, Italian or +English; but their artistic spirit of design and their artistic attitude +to-day, their own world, you should absorb but imitate never, copy never. +Unless you can make as beautiful a design in painted china or embroidered +screen or beaten brass out of your American turkey as the Japanese does +out of his grey silver-winged stork, you will never do anything. Let the +Greek carve his lions and the Goth his dragons: buffalo and wild deer are +the animals for you. + +Golden rod and aster and rose and all the flowers that cover your valleys +in the spring and your hills in the autumn: let them be the flowers for +your art. Not merely has Nature given you the noblest motives for a new +school of decoration, but to you above all other countries has she given +the utensils to work in. + +You have quarries of marble richer than Pentelicus, more varied than +Paros, but do not build a great white square house of marble and think +that it is beautiful, or that you are using marble nobly. If you build +in marble you must either carve it into joyous decoration, like the lives +of dancing children that adorn the marble castles of the Loire, or fill +it with beautiful sculpture, frieze and pediment, as the Greeks did, or +inlay it with other coloured marbles as they did in Venice. Otherwise +you had better build in simple red brick as your Puritan fathers, with no +pretence and with some beauty. Do not treat your marble as if it was +ordinary stone and build a house of mere blocks of it. For it is indeed +a precious stone, this marble of yours, and only workmen of nobility of +invention and delicacy of hand should be allowed to touch it at all, +carving it into noble statues or into beautiful decoration, or inlaying +it with other coloured marbles: for ‘the true colours of architecture are +those of natural stone, and I would fain see them taken advantage of to +the full. Every variety is here, from pale yellow to purple passing +through orange, red, and brown, entirely at your command; nearly every +kind of green and grey also is attainable, and with these and with pure +white what harmony might you not achieve. Of stained and variegated +stone the quantity is unlimited, the kinds innumerable. Were brighter +colours required, let glass, and gold protected by glass, be used in +mosaic, a kind of work as durable as the solid stone and incapable of +losing its lustre by time. And let the painter’s work be reserved for +the shadowed loggia and inner chamber. + +‘This is the true and faithful way of building. Where this cannot be, +the device of external colouring may indeed be employed without +dishonour—but it must be with the warning reflection that a time will +come when such aids will pass away and when the building will be judged +in its lifelessness, dying the death of the dolphin. Better the less +bright, more enduring fabric. The transparent alabasters of San Miniato +and the mosaics of Saint Mark’s are more warmly filled and more brightly +touched by every return of morning and evening, while the hues of the +Gothic cathedrals have died like the iris out of the cloud, and the +temples, whose azure and purple once flamed above the Grecian promontory, +stand in their faded whiteness like snows which the sunset has left +cold.’—Ruskin, _Seven Lamps of Architecture_, II. + +I do not know anything so perfectly commonplace in design as most modern +jewellery. How easy for you to change that and to produce goldsmiths’ +work that would be a joy to all of us. The gold is ready for you in +unexhausted treasure, stored up in the mountain hollow or strewn on the +river sand, and was not given to you merely for barren speculation. +There should be some better record of it left in your history than the +merchant’s panic and the ruined home. We do not remember often enough +how constantly the history of a great nation will live in and by its art. +Only a few thin wreaths of beaten gold remain to tell us of the stately +empire of Etruria; and, while from the streets of Florence the noble +knight and haughty duke have long since passed away, the gates which the +simple goldsmith Ghiberti made for their pleasure still guard their +lovely house of baptism, worthy still of the praise of Michael Angelo who +called them worthy to be the Gates of Paradise. + +Have then your school of design, search out your workmen and, when you +find one who has delicacy of hand and that wonder of invention necessary +for goldsmiths’ work, do not leave him to toil in obscurity and dishonour +and have a great glaring shop and two great glaring shop-boys in it (not +to take your orders: they never do that; but to force you to buy +something you do not want at all). When you want a thing wrought in +gold, goblet or shield for the feast, necklace or wreath for the women, +tell him what you like most in decoration, flower or wreath, bird in +flight or hound in the chase, image of the woman you love or the friend +you honour. Watch him as he beats out the gold into those thin plates +delicate as the petals of a yellow rose, or draws it into the long wires +like tangled sunbeams at dawn. Whoever that workman be, help him, +cherish him, and you will have such lovely work from his hand as will be +a joy to you for all time. + +This is the spirit of our movement in England, and this is the spirit in +which we would wish you to work, making eternal by your art all that is +noble in your men and women, stately in your lakes and mountains, +beautiful in your own flowers and natural life. We want to see that you +have nothing in your houses that has not been a joy to the man who made +it, and is not a joy to those that use it. We want to see you create an +art made by the hands of the people to please the hearts of the people +too. Do you like this spirit or not? Do you think it simple and strong, +noble in its aim, and beautiful in its result? I know you do. + +Folly and slander have their own way for a little time, but for a little +time only. You now know what we mean: you will be able to estimate what +is said of us—its value and its motive. + +There should be a law that no ordinary newspaper should be allowed to +write about art. The harm they do by their foolish and random writing it +would be impossible to overestimate—not to the artist but to the public, +blinding them to all, but harming the artist not at all. Without them we +would judge a man simply by his work; but at present the newspapers are +trying hard to induce the public to judge a sculptor, for instance, never +by his statues but by the way he treats his wife; a painter by the amount +of his income and a poet by the colour of his neck-tie. I said there +should be a law, but there is really no necessity for a new law: nothing +could be easier than to bring the ordinary critic under the head of the +criminal classes. But let us leave such an inartistic subject and return +to beautiful and comely things, remembering that the art which would +represent the spirit of modern newspapers would be exactly the art which +you and I want to avoid—grotesque art, malice mocking you from every +gateway, slander sneering at you from every corner. + +Perhaps you may be surprised at my talking of labour and the workman. +You have heard of me, I fear, through the medium of your somewhat +imaginative newspapers as, if not a ‘Japanese young man,’ at least a +young man to whom the rush and clamour and reality of the modern world +were distasteful, and whose greatest difficulty in life was the +difficulty of living up to the level of his blue china—a paradox from +which England has not yet recovered. + +Well, let me tell you how it first came to me at all to create an +artistic movement in England, a movement to show the rich what beautiful +things they might enjoy and the poor what beautiful things they might +create. + +One summer afternoon in Oxford—‘that sweet city with her dreaming +spires,’ lovely as Venice in its splendour, noble in its learning as +Rome, down the long High Street that winds from tower to tower, past +silent cloister and stately gateway, till it reaches that long, grey +seven-arched bridge which Saint Mary used to guard (used to, I say, +because they are now pulling it down to build a tramway and a light +cast-iron bridge in its place, desecrating the loveliest city in +England)—well, we were coming down the street—a troop of young men, some +of them like myself only nineteen, going to river or tennis-court or +cricket-field—when Ruskin going up to lecture in cap and gown met us. He +seemed troubled and prayed us to go back with him to his lecture, which a +few of us did, and there he spoke to us not on art this time but on life, +saying that it seemed to him to be wrong that all the best physique and +strength of the young men in England should be spent aimlessly on cricket +ground or river, without any result at all except that if one rowed well +one got a pewter-pot, and if one made a good score, a cane-handled bat. +He thought, he said, that we should be working at something that would do +good to other people, at something by which we might show that in all +labour there was something noble. Well, we were a good deal moved, and +said we would do anything he wished. So he went out round Oxford and +found two villages, Upper and Lower Hinksey, and between them there lay a +great swamp, so that the villagers could not pass from one to the other +without many miles of a round. And when we came back in winter he asked +us to help him to make a road across this morass for these village people +to use. So out we went, day after day, and learned how to lay levels and +to break stones, and to wheel barrows along a plank—a very difficult +thing to do. And Ruskin worked with us in the mist and rain and mud of +an Oxford winter, and our friends and our enemies came out and mocked us +from the bank. We did not mind it much then, and we did not mind it +afterwards at all, but worked away for two months at our road. And what +became of the road? Well, like a bad lecture it ended abruptly—in the +middle of the swamp. Ruskin going away to Venice, when we came back for +the next term there was no leader, and the ‘diggers,’ as they called us, +fell asunder. And I felt that if there was enough spirit amongst the +young men to go out to such work as road-making for the sake of a noble +ideal of life, I could from them create an artistic movement that might +change, as it has changed, the face of England. So I sought them +out—leader they would call me—but there was no leader: we were all +searchers only and we were bound to each other by noble friendship and by +noble art. There was none of us idle: poets most of us, so ambitious +were we: painters some of us, or workers in metal or modellers, +determined that we would try and create for ourselves beautiful work: for +the handicraftsman beautiful work, for those who love us poems and +pictures, for those who love us not epigrams and paradoxes and scorn. + +Well, we have done something in England and we will do something more. +Now, I do not want you, believe me, to ask your brilliant young men, your +beautiful young girls, to go out and make a road on a swamp for any +village in America, but I think you might each of you have some art to +practise. + + * * * * * + +We must have, as Emerson said, a mechanical craft for our culture, a +basis for our higher accomplishments in the work of our hands—the +uselessness of most people’s hands seems to me one of the most +unpractical things. ‘No separation from labour can be without some loss +of power or truth to the seer,’ says Emerson again. The heroism which +would make on us the impression of Epaminondas must be that of a domestic +conqueror. The hero of the future is he who shall bravely and gracefully +subdue this Gorgon of fashion and of convention. + +When you have chosen your own part, abide by it, and do not weakly try +and reconcile yourself with the world. The heroic cannot be the common +nor the common the heroic. Congratulate yourself if you have done +something strange and extravagant and broken the monotony of a decorous +age. + +And lastly, let us remember that art is the one thing which Death cannot +harm. The little house at Concord may be desolate, but the wisdom of New +England’s Plato is not silenced nor the brilliancy of that Attic genius +dimmed: the lips of Longfellow are still musical for us though his dust +be turning into the flowers which he loved: and as it is with the greater +artists, poet and philosopher and song-bird, so let it be with you. + + + + +LECTURE TO ART STUDENTS + + +Delivered to the Art students of the Royal Academy at their Club in +Golden Square, Westminster, on June 30, 1883. The text is taken from the +original manuscript. + +IN the lecture which it is my privilege to deliver before you to-night I +do not desire to give you any abstract definition of beauty at all. For +we who are working in art cannot accept any theory of beauty in exchange +for beauty itself, and, so far from desiring to isolate it in a formula +appealing to the intellect, we, on the contrary, seek to materialise it +in a form that gives joy to the soul through the senses. We want to +create it, not to define it. The definition should follow the work: the +work should not adapt itself to the definition. + +Nothing, indeed, is more dangerous to the young artist than any +conception of ideal beauty: he is constantly led by it either into weak +prettiness or lifeless abstraction: whereas to touch the ideal at all you +must not strip it of vitality. You must find it in life and re-create it +in art. + +While, then, on the one hand I do not desire to give you any philosophy +of beauty—for, what I want to-night is to investigate how we can create +art, not how we can talk of it—on the other hand, I do not wish to deal +with anything like a history of English art. + +To begin with, such an expression as English art is a meaningless +expression. One might just as well talk of English mathematics. Art is +the science of beauty, and Mathematics the science of truth: there is no +national school of either. Indeed, a national school is a provincial +school, merely. Nor is there any such thing as a school of art even. +There are merely artists, that is all. + +And as regards histories of art, they are quite valueless to you unless +you are seeking the ostentatious oblivion of an art professorship. It is +of no use to you to know the date of Perugino or the birthplace of +Salvator Rosa: all that you should learn about art is to know a good +picture when you see it, and a bad picture when you see it. As regards +the date of the artist, all good work looks perfectly modern: a piece of +Greek sculpture, a portrait of Velasquez—they are always modern, always +of our time. And as regards the nationality of the artist, art is not +national but universal. As regards archæology, then, avoid it +altogether: archæology is merely the science of making excuses for bad +art; it is the rock on which many a young artist founders and shipwrecks; +it is the abyss from which no artist, old or young, ever returns. Or, if +he does return, he is so covered with the dust of ages and the mildew of +time, that he is quite unrecognisable as an artist, and has to conceal +himself for the rest of his days under the cap of a professor, or as a +mere illustrator of ancient history. How worthless archæology is in art +you can estimate by the fact of its being so popular. Popularity is the +crown of laurel which the world puts on bad art. Whatever is popular is +wrong. + +As I am not going to talk to you, then, about the philosophy of the +beautiful, or the history of art, you will ask me what I am going to talk +about. The subject of my lecture to-night is what makes an artist and +what does the artist make; what are the relations of the artist to his +surroundings, what is the education the artist should get, and what is +the quality of a good work of art. + +Now, as regards the relations of the artist to his surroundings, by which +I mean the age and country in which he is born. All good art, as I said +before, has nothing to do with any particular century; but this +universality is the quality of the work of art; the conditions that +produce that quality are different. And what, I think, you should do is +to realise completely your age in order completely to abstract yourself +from it; remembering that if you are an artist at all, you will be not +the mouthpiece of a century, but the master of eternity, that all art +rests on a principle, and that mere temporal considerations are no +principle at all; and that those who advise you to make your art +representative of the nineteenth century are advising you to produce an +art which your children, when you have them, will think old-fashioned. +But you will tell me this is an inartistic age, and we are an inartistic +people, and the artist suffers much in this nineteenth century of ours. + +Of course he does. I, of all men, am not going to deny that. But +remember that there never has been an artistic age, or an artistic +people, since the beginning of the world. The artist has always been, +and will always be, an exquisite exception. There is no golden age of +art; only artists who have produced what is more golden than gold. + +_What_, you will say to me, the Greeks? were not they an artistic people? + +Well, the Greeks certainly not, but, perhaps, you mean the Athenians, the +citizens of one out of a thousand cities. + +Do you think that they were an artistic people? Take them even at the +time of their highest artistic development, the latter part of the fifth +century before Christ, when they had the greatest poets and the greatest +artists of the antique world, when the Parthenon rose in loveliness at +the bidding of a Phidias, and the philosopher spake of wisdom in the +shadow of the painted portico, and tragedy swept in the perfection of +pageant and pathos across the marble of the stage. Were they an artistic +people then? Not a bit of it. What is an artistic people but a people +who love their artists and understand their art? The Athenians could do +neither. + +How did they treat Phidias? To Phidias we owe the great era, not merely +in Greek, but in all art—I mean of the introduction of the use of the +living model. + +And what would you say if all the English bishops, backed by the English +people, came down from Exeter Hall to the Royal Academy one day and took +off Sir Frederick Leighton in a prison van to Newgate on the charge of +having allowed you to make use of the living model in your designs for +sacred pictures? + +Would you not cry out against the barbarism and the Puritanism of such an +idea? Would you not explain to them that the worst way to honour God is +to dishonour man who is made in His image, and is the work of His hands; +and, that if one wants to paint Christ one must take the most Christlike +person one can find, and if one wants to paint the Madonna, the purest +girl one knows? + +Would you not rush off and burn down Newgate, if necessary, and say that +such a thing was without parallel in history? + +Without parallel? Well, that is exactly what the Athenians did. + +In the room of the Parthenon marbles, in the British Museum, you will see +a marble shield on the wall. On it there are two figures; one of a man +whose face is half hidden, the other of a man with the godlike lineaments +of Pericles. For having done this, for having introduced into a bas +relief, taken from Greek sacred history, the image of the great statesman +who was ruling Athens at the time, Phidias was flung into prison and +there, in the common gaol of Athens, died, the supreme artist of the old +world. + +And do you think that this was an exceptional case? The sign of a +Philistine age is the cry of immorality against art, and this cry was +raised by the Athenian people against every great poet and thinker of +their day—Æschylus, Euripides, Socrates. It was the same with Florence +in the thirteenth century. Good handicrafts are due to guilds, not to +the people. The moment the guilds lost their power and the people rushed +in, beauty and honesty of work died. + +And so, never talk of an artistic people; there never has been such a +thing. + +But, perhaps, you will tell me that the external beauty of the world has +almost entirely passed away from us, that the artist dwells no longer in +the midst of the lovely surroundings which, in ages past, were the +natural inheritance of every one, and that art is very difficult in this +unlovely town of ours, where, as you go to your work in the morning, or +return from it at eventide, you have to pass through street after street +of the most foolish and stupid architecture that the world has ever seen; +architecture, where every lovely Greek form is desecrated and defiled, +and every lovely Gothic form defiled and desecrated, reducing +three-fourths of the London houses to being, merely, like square boxes of +the vilest proportions, as gaunt as they are grimy, and as poor as they +are pretentious—the hall door always of the wrong colour, and the windows +of the wrong size, and where, even when wearied of the houses you turn to +contemplate the street itself, you have nothing to look at but +chimney-pot hats, men with sandwich boards, vermilion letter-boxes, and +do that even at the risk of being run over by an emerald-green omnibus. + +Is not art difficult, you will say to me, in such surroundings as these? +Of course it is difficult, but then art was never easy; you yourselves +would not wish it to be easy; and, besides, nothing is worth doing except +what the world says is impossible. + +Still, you do not care to be answered merely by a paradox. What are the +relations of the artist to the external world, and what is the result of +the loss of beautiful surroundings to you, is one of the most important +questions of modern art; and there is no point on which Mr. Ruskin so +insists as that the decadence of art has come from the decadence of +beautiful things; and that when the artist cannot feed his eye on beauty, +beauty goes from his work. + +I remember in one of his lectures, after describing the sordid aspect of +a great English city, he draws for us a picture of what were the artistic +surroundings long ago. + +Think, he says, in words of perfect and picturesque imagery, whose beauty +I can but feebly echo, think of what was the scene which presented +itself, in his afternoon walk, to a designer of the Gothic school of +Pisa—Nino Pisano or any of his men: {206} + + On each side of a bright river he saw rise a line of brighter + palaces, arched and pillared, and inlaid with deep red porphyry, and + with serpentine; along the quays before their gates were riding + troops of knights, noble in face and form, dazzling in crest and + shield; horse and man one labyrinth of quaint colour and gleaming + light—the purple, and silver, and scarlet fringes flowing over the + strong limbs and clashing mall, like sea-waves over rocks at sunset. + Opening on each side from the river were gardens, courts, and + cloisters; long successions of white pillars among wreaths of vine; + leaping of fountains through buds of pomegranate and orange: and + still along the garden-paths, and under and through the crimson of + the pomegranate shadows, moving slowly, groups of the fairest women + that Italy ever saw—fairest, because purest and thoughtfullest; + trained in all high knowledge, as in all courteous art—in dance, in + song, in sweet wit, in lofty learning, in loftier courage, in + loftiest love—able alike to cheer, to enchant, or save, the souls of + men. Above all this scenery of perfect human life, rose dome and + bell-tower, burning with white alabaster and gold: beyond dome and + bell-tower the slopes of mighty hills hoary with olive; far in the + north, above a purple sea of peaks of solemn Apennine, the clear, + sharp-cloven Carrara mountains sent up their steadfast flames of + marble summit into amber sky; the great sea itself, scorching with + expanse of light, stretching from their feet to the Gorgonian isles; + and over all these, ever present, near or far—seen through the leaves + of vine, or imaged with all its march of clouds in the Arno’s stream, + or set with its depth of blue close against the golden hair and + burning cheek of lady and knight,—that untroubled and sacred sky, + which was to all men, in those days of innocent faith, indeed the + unquestioned abode of spirits, as the earth was of men; and which + opened straight through its gates of cloud and veils of dew into the + awfulness of the eternal world;—a heaven in which every cloud that + passed was literally the chariot of an angel, and every ray of its + Evening and Morning streamed from the throne of God. + + What think you of that for a school of design? + +And then look at the depressing, monotonous appearance of any modern +city, the sombre dress of men and women, the meaningless and barren +architecture, the colourless and dreadful surroundings. Without a +beautiful national life, not sculpture merely, but all the arts will die. + +Well, as regards the religious feeling of the close of the passage, I do +not think I need speak about that. Religion springs from religious +feeling, art from artistic feeling: you never get one from the other; +unless you have the right root you will not get the right flower; and, if +a man sees in a cloud the chariot of an angel, he will probably paint it +very unlike a cloud. + +But, as regards the general idea of the early part of that lovely bit of +prose, is it really true that beautiful surroundings are necessary for +the artist? I think not; I am sure not. Indeed, to me the most +inartistic thing in this age of ours is not the indifference of the +public to beautiful things, but the indifference of the artist to the +things that are called ugly. For, to the real artist, nothing is +beautiful or ugly in itself at all. With the facts of the object he has +nothing to do, but with its appearance only, and appearance is a matter +of light and shade, of masses, of position, and of value. + +Appearance is, in fact, a matter of effect merely, and it is with the +effects of nature that you have to deal, not with the real condition of +the object. What you, as painters, have to paint is not things as they +are but things as they seem to be, not things as they are but things as +they are not. + +No object is so ugly that, under certain conditions of light and shade, +or proximity to other things, it will not look beautiful; no object is so +beautiful that, under certain conditions, it will not look ugly. I +believe that in every twenty-four hours what is beautiful looks ugly, and +what is ugly looks beautiful, once. + +And, the commonplace character of so much of our English painting seems +to me due to the fact that so many of our young artists look merely at +what we may call ‘ready-made beauty,’ whereas you exist as artists not to +copy beauty but to create it in your art, to wait and watch for it in +nature. + +What would you say of a dramatist who would take nobody but virtuous +people as characters in his play? Would you not say he was missing half +of life? Well, of the young artist who paints nothing but beautiful +things, I say he misses one half of the world. + +Do not wait for life to be picturesque, but try and see life under +picturesque conditions. These conditions you can create for yourself in +your studio, for they are merely conditions of light. In nature, you +must wait for them, watch for them, choose them; and, if you wait and +watch, come they will. + +In Gower Street at night you may see a letter-box that is picturesque: on +the Thames Embankment you may see picturesque policemen. Even Venice is +not always beautiful, nor France. + +To paint what you see is a good rule in art, but to see what is worth +painting is better. See life under pictorial conditions. It is better +to live in a city of changeable weather than in a city of lovely +surroundings. + +Now, having seen what makes the artist, and what the artist makes, who is +the artist? There is a man living amongst us who unites in himself all +the qualities of the noblest art, whose work is a joy for all time, who +is, himself, a master of all time. That man is Mr. Whistler. + + * * * * * + +But, you will say, modern dress, that is bad. If you cannot paint black +cloth you could not have painted silken doublet. Ugly dress is better +for art—facts of vision, not of the object. + +What is a picture? Primarily, a picture is a beautifully coloured +surface, merely, with no more spiritual message or meaning for you than +an exquisite fragment of Venetian glass or a blue tile from the wall of +Damascus. It is, primarily, a purely decorative thing, a delight to look +at. + +All archæological pictures that make you say ‘How curious!’ all +sentimental pictures that make you say, ‘How sad!’ all historical +pictures that make you say ‘How interesting!’ all pictures that do not +immediately give you such artistic joy as to make you say ‘How +beautiful!’ are bad pictures. + + * * * * * + +We never know what an artist is going to do. Of course not. The artist +is not a specialist. All such divisions as animal painters, landscape +painters, painters of Scotch cattle in an English mist, painters of +English cattle in a Scotch mist, racehorse painters, bull-terrier +painters, all are shallow. If a man is an artist he can paint +everything. + +The object of art is to stir the most divine and remote of the chords +which make music in our soul; and colour is indeed, of itself a mystical +presence on things, and tone a kind of sentinel. + +Am I pleading, then, for mere technique? No. As long as there are any +signs of technique at all, the picture is unfinished. What is finish? A +picture is finished when all traces of work, and of the means employed to +bring about the result, have disappeared. + +In the case of handicraftsmen—the weaver, the potter, the smith—on their +work are the traces of their hand. But it is not so with the painter; it +is not so with the artist. + +Art should have no sentiment about it but its beauty, no technique except +what you cannot observe. One should be able to say of a picture not that +it is ‘well painted,’ but that it is ‘not painted.’ + +What is the difference between absolutely decorative art and a painting? +Decorative art emphasises its material: imaginative art annihilates it. +Tapestry shows its threads as part of its beauty: a picture annihilates +its canvas: it shows nothing of it. Porcelain emphasises its glaze: +water-colours reject the paper. + +A picture has no meaning but its beauty, no message but its joy. That is +the first truth about art that you must never lose sight of. A picture +is a purely decorative thing. + + + + +LONDON MODELS + + +_English Illustrated Magazine_, January 1889. + +PROFESSIONAL models are a purely modern invention. To the Greeks, for +instance, they were quite unknown. Mr. Mahaffy, it is true, tells us +that Pericles used to present peacocks to the great ladies of Athenian +society in order to induce them to sit to his friend Phidias, and we know +that Polygnotus introduced into his picture of the Trojan women the face +of Elpinice, the celebrated sister of the great Conservative leader of +the day, but these _grandes dames_ clearly do not come under our +category. As for the old masters, they undoubtedly made constant studies +from their pupils and apprentices, and even their religious pictures are +full of the portraits of their friends and relations, but they do not +seem to have had the inestimable advantage of the existence of a class of +people whose sole profession is to pose. In fact the model, in our sense +of the word, is the direct creation of Academic Schools. + +Every country now has its own models, except America. In New York, and +even in Boston, a good model is so great a rarity that most of the +artists are reduced to painting Niagara and millionaires. In Europe, +however, it is different. Here we have plenty of models, and of every +nationality. The Italian models are the best. The natural grace of +their attitudes, as well as the wonderful picturesqueness of their +colouring, makes them facile—often too facile—subjects for the painter’s +brush. The French models, though not so beautiful as the Italian, +possess a quickness of intellectual sympathy, a capacity, in fact, of +understanding the artist, which is quite remarkable. They have also a +great command over the varieties of facial expression, are peculiarly +dramatic, and can chatter the _argot_ of the _atelier_ as cleverly as the +critic of the _Gil Blas_. The English models form a class entirely by +themselves. They are not so picturesque as the Italian, nor so clever as +the French, and they have absolutely no tradition, so to speak, of their +order. Now and then some old veteran knocks at the studio door, and +proposes to sit as Ajax defying the lightning, or as King Lear upon the +blasted heath. One of them some time ago called on a popular painter +who, happening at the moment to require his services, engaged him, and +told him to begin by kneeling down in the attitude of prayer. ‘Shall I +be Biblical or Shakespearean, sir?’ asked the veteran. +‘Well—Shakespearean,’ answered the artist, wondering by what subtle +_nuance_ of expression the model would convey the difference. ‘All +right, sir,’ said the professor of posing, and he solemnly knelt down and +began to wink with his left eye! This class, however, is dying out. As +a rule the model, nowadays, is a pretty girl, from about twelve to +twenty-five years of age, who knows nothing about art, cares less, and is +merely anxious to earn seven or eight shillings a day without much +trouble. English models rarely look at a picture, and never venture on +any æsthetic theories. In fact, they realise very completely Mr. +Whistler’s idea of the function of an art critic, for they pass no +criticisms at all. They accept all schools of art with the grand +catholicity of the auctioneer, and sit to a fantastic young impressionist +as readily as to a learned and laborious academician. They are neither +for the Whistlerites nor against them; the quarrel between the school of +facts and the school of effects touches them not; idealistic and +naturalistic are words that convey no meaning to their ears; they merely +desire that the studio shall be warm, and the lunch hot, for all charming +artists give their models lunch. + +As to what they are asked to do they are equally indifferent. On Monday +they will don the rags of a beggar-girl for Mr. Pumper, whose pathetic +pictures of modern life draw such tears from the public, and on Tuesday +they will pose in a peplum for Mr. Phoebus, who thinks that all really +artistic subjects are necessarily B.C. They career gaily through all +centuries and through all costumes, and, like actors, are interesting +only when they are not themselves. They are extremely good-natured, and +very accommodating. ‘What do you sit for?’ said a young artist to a +model who had sent him in her card (all models, by the way, have cards +and a small black bag). ‘Oh, for anything you like, sir,’ said the girl, +‘landscape if necessary!’ + +Intellectually, it must be acknowledged, they are Philistines, but +physically they are perfect—at least some are. Though none of them can +talk Greek, many can look Greek, which to a nineteenth-century painter is +naturally of great importance. If they are allowed, they chatter a great +deal, but they never say anything. Their observations are the only +_banalités_ heard in Bohemia. However, though they cannot appreciate the +artist as artist, they are quite ready to appreciate the artist as a man. +They are very sensitive to kindness, respect and generosity. A beautiful +model who had sat for two years to one of our most distinguished English +painters, got engaged to a street vendor of penny ices. + +On her marriage the painter sent her a pretty wedding present, and +received in return a nice letter of thanks with the following remarkable +postscript: ‘Never eat the green ices!’ + +When they are tired a wise artist gives them a rest. Then they sit in a +chair and read penny dreadfuls, till they are roused from the tragedy of +literature to take their place again in the tragedy of art. A few of +them smoke cigarettes. This, however, is regarded by the other models as +showing a want of seriousness, and is not generally approved of. They +are engaged by the day and by the half-day. The tariff is a shilling an +hour, to which great artists usually add an omnibus fare. The two best +things about them are their extraordinary prettiness, and their extreme +respectability. As a class they are very well behaved, particularly +those who sit for the figure, a fact which is curious or natural +according to the view one takes of human nature. They usually marry +well, and sometimes they marry the artist. For an artist to marry his +model is as fatal as for a _gourmet_ to marry his cook: the one gets no +sittings, and the other gets no dinners. + +On the whole the English female models are very naïve, very natural, and +very good-humoured. The virtues which the artist values most in them are +prettiness and punctuality. Every sensible model consequently keeps a +diary of her engagements, and dresses neatly. The bad season is, of +course, the summer, when the artists are out of town. However, of late +years some artists have engaged their models to follow them, and the wife +of one of our most charming painters has often had three or four models +under her charge in the country, so that the work of her husband and his +friends should not be interrupted. In France the models migrate _en +masse_ to the little seaport villages or forest hamlets where the +painters congregate. The English models, however, wait patiently in +London, as a rule, till the artists come back. Nearly all of them live +with their parents, and help to support the house. They have every +qualification for being immortalised in art except that of beautiful +hands. The hands of the English model are nearly always coarse and red. + +As for the male models, there is the veteran whom we have mentioned +above. He has all the traditions of the grand style, and is rapidly +disappearing with the school he represents. An old man who talks about +Fuseli is, of course, unendurable, and, besides, patriarchs have ceased +to be fashionable subjects. Then there is the true Academy model. He is +usually a man of thirty, rarely good-looking, but a perfect miracle of +muscles. In fact he is the apotheosis of anatomy, and is so conscious of +his own splendour that he tells you of his tibia and his thorax, as if no +one else had anything of the kind. Then come the Oriental models. The +supply of these is limited, but there are always about a dozen in London. +They are very much sought after as they can remain immobile for hours, +and generally possess lovely costumes. However, they have a very poor +opinion of English art, which they regard as something between a vulgar +personality and a commonplace photograph. Next we have the Italian youth +who has come over specially to be a model, or takes to it when his organ +is out of repair. He is often quite charming with his large melancholy +eyes, his crisp hair, and his slim brown figure. It is true he eats +garlic, but then he can stand like a faun and couch like a leopard, so he +is forgiven. He is always full of pretty compliments, and has been known +to have kind words of encouragement for even our greatest artists. As +for the English lad of the same age, he never sits at all. Apparently he +does not regard the career of a model as a serious profession. In any +case he is rarely, if ever, to be got hold of. English boys, too, are +difficult to find. Sometimes an ex-model who has a son will curl his +hair, and wash his face, and bring him the round of the studios, all soap +and shininess. The young school don’t like him, but the older school do, +and when he appears on the walls of the Royal Academy he is called _The +Infant Samuel_. Occasionally also an artist catches a couple of _gamins_ +in the gutter and asks them to come to his studio. The first time they +always appear, but after that they don’t keep their appointments. They +dislike sitting still, and have a strong and perhaps natural objection to +looking pathetic. Besides, they are always under the impression that the +artist is laughing at them. It is a sad fact, but there is no doubt that +the poor are completely unconscious of their own picturesqueness. Those +of them who can be induced to sit do so with the idea that the artist is +merely a benevolent philanthropist who has chosen an eccentric method of +distributing alms to the undeserving. Perhaps the School Board will +teach the London _gamin_ his own artistic value, and then they will be +better models than they are now. One remarkable privilege belongs to the +Academy model, that of extorting a sovereign from any newly elected +Associate or R.A. They wait at Burlington House till the announcement is +made, and then race to the hapless artist’s house. The one who arrives +first receives the money. They have of late been much troubled at the +long distances they have had to run, and they look with disfavour on the +election of artists who live at Hampstead or at Bedford Park, for it is +considered a point of honour not to employ the underground railway, +omnibuses, or any artificial means of locomotion. The race is to the +swift. + +Besides the professional posers of the studio there are posers of the +Row, the posers at afternoon teas, the posers in politics and the circus +posers. All four classes are delightful, but only the last class is ever +really decorative. Acrobats and gymnasts can give the young painter +infinite suggestions, for they bring into their art an element of +swiftness of motion and of constant change that the studio model +necessarily lacks. What is interesting in these ‘slaves of the ring’ is +that with them Beauty is an unconscious result not a conscious aim, the +result in fact of the mathematical calculation of curves and distances, +of absolute precision of eye, of the scientific knowledge of the +equilibrium of forces, and of perfect physical training. A good acrobat +is always graceful, though grace is never his object; he is graceful +because he does what he has to do in the best way in which it can be +done—graceful because he is natural. If an ancient Greek were to come to +life now, which considering the probable severity of his criticisms would +be rather trying to our conceit, he would be found far oftener at the +circus than at the theatre. A good circus is an oasis of Hellenism in a +world that reads too much to be wise, and thinks too much to be +beautiful. If it were not for the running-ground at Eton, the +towing-path at Oxford, the Thames swimming-baths, and the yearly +circuses, humanity would forget the plastic perfection of its own form, +and degenerate into a race of short-sighted professors and spectacled +_précieuses_. Not that the circus proprietors are, as a rule, conscious +of their high mission. Do they not bore us with the _haute école_, and +weary us with Shakespearean clowns? Still, at least, they give us +acrobats, and the acrobat is an artist. The mere fact that he never +speaks to the audience shows how well he appreciates the great truth that +the aim of art is not to reveal personality but to please. The clown may +be blatant, but the acrobat is always beautiful. He is an interesting +combination of the spirit of Greek sculpture with the spangles of the +modern costumier. He has even had his niche in the novels of our age, +and if _Manette Salomon_ be the unmasking of the model, _Les Frères +Zemganno_ is the apotheosis of the acrobat. + +As regards the influence of the ordinary model on our English school of +painting, it cannot be said that it is altogether good. It is, of +course, an advantage for the young artist sitting in his studio to be +able to isolate ‘a little corner of life,’ as the French say, from +disturbing surroundings, and to study it under certain effects of light +and shade. But this very isolation leads often to mere mannerism in the +painter, and robs him of that broad acceptance of the general facts of +life which is the very essence of art. Model-painting, in a word, while +it may be the condition of art, is not by any means its aim. + +It is simply practice, not perfection. Its use trains the eye and the +hand of the painter, its abuse produces in his work an effect of mere +posing and prettiness. It is the secret of much of the artificiality of +modern art, this constant posing of pretty people, and when art becomes +artificial it becomes monotonous. Outside the little world of the +studio, with its draperies and its _bric-à-brac_, lies the world of life +with its infinite, its Shakespearean variety. We must, however, +distinguish between the two kinds of models, those who sit for the figure +and those who sit for the costume. The study of the first is always +excellent, but the costume-model is becoming rather wearisome in modern +pictures. It is really of very little use to dress up a London girl in +Greek draperies and to paint her as a goddess. The robe may be the robe +of Athens, but the face is usually the face of Brompton. Now and then, +it is true, one comes across a model whose face is an exquisite +anachronism, and who looks lovely and natural in the dress of any century +but her own. This, however, is rather rare. As a rule models are +absolutely _de notre siècle_, and should be painted as such. +Unfortunately they are not, and, as a consequence, we are shown every +year a series of scenes from fancy dress balls which are called +historical pictures, but are little more than mediocre representations of +modern people masquerading. In France they are wiser. The French +painter uses the model simply for study; for the finished picture he goes +direct to life. + +However, we must not blame the sitters for the shortcomings of the +artists. The English models are a well-behaved and hard-working class, +and if they are more interested in artists than in art, a large section +of the public is in the same condition, and most of our modern +exhibitions seem to justify its choice. + + + + +POEMS IN PROSE + + +_Fortnight Review_, July 1894. + + + +THE ARTIST + + +ONE evening there came into his soul the desire to fashion an image of +_The Pleasure that abideth for a Moment_. And he went forth into the +world to look for bronze. For he could think only in bronze. + +But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, nor anywhere in +the whole world was there any bronze to be found, save only the bronze of +the image of _The Sorrow that endureth for Ever_. + +Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, fashioned, and had +set it on the tomb of the one thing he had loved in life. On the tomb of +the dead thing he had most loved had he set this image of his own +fashioning, that it might serve as a sign of the love of man that dieth +not, and a symbol of the sorrow of man that endureth for ever. And in +the whole world there was no other bronze save the bronze of this image. + +And he took the image he had fashioned, and set it in a great furnace, +and gave it to the fire. + +And out of the bronze of the image of _The Sorrow that endureth for Ever_ +he fashioned an image of _The Pleasure that abideth for a Moment_. + + + +THE DOER OF GOOD + + +It was night-time and He was alone. + +And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards the city. + +And when He came near He heard within the city the tread of the feet of +joy, and the laughter of the mouth of gladness and the loud noise of many +lutes. And He knocked at the gate and certain of the gate-keepers opened +to Him. + +And He beheld a house that was of marble and had fair pillars of marble +before it. The pillars were hung with garlands, and within and without +there were torches of cedar. And He entered the house. + +And when He had passed through the hall of chalcedony and the hall of +jasper, and reached the long hall of feasting, He saw lying on a couch of +sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with red roses and whose lips were +red with wine. + +And He went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and said to him, +‘Why do you live like this?’ + +And the young man turned round and recognised Him, and made answer and +said, ‘But I was a leper once, and you healed me. How else should I +live?’ + +And He passed out of the house and went again into the street. + +And after a little while He saw one whose face and raiment were painted +and whose feet were shod with pearls. And behind her came, slowly as a +hunter, a young man who wore a cloak of two colours. Now the face of the +woman was as the fair face of an idol, and the eyes of the young man were +bright with lust. + +And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man and said to +him, ‘Why do you look at this woman and in such wise?’ + +And the young man turned round and recognised Him and said, ‘But I was +blind once, and you gave me sight. At what else should I look?’ + +And He ran forward and touched the painted raiment of the woman and said +to her, ‘Is there no other way in which to walk save the way of sin?’ + +And the woman turned round and recognised Him, and laughed and said, ‘But +you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way.’ + +And He passed out of the city. + +And when He had passed out of the city He saw seated by the roadside a +young man who was weeping. + +And He went towards him and touched the long locks of his hair and said +to him, ‘Why are you weeping?’ + +And the young man looked up and recognised Him and made answer, ‘But I +was dead once, and you raised me from the dead. What else should I do +but weep?’ + + + +THE DISCIPLE + + +When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of sweet +waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping through the +woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it comfort. + +And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet waters +into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of their hair +and cried to the pool and said, ‘We do not wonder that you should mourn +in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was he.’ + +‘But was Narcissus beautiful?’ said the pool. + +‘Who should know that better than you?’ answered the Oreads. ‘Us did he +ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your banks and look +down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he would mirror his own +beauty.’ + +And the pool answered, ‘But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on my +banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw ever my own +beauty mirrored.’ + + + +THE MASTER + + +Now when the darkness came over the earth Joseph of Arimathea, having +lighted a torch of pinewood, passed down from the hill into the valley. +For he had business in his own home. + +And kneeling on the flint stones of the Valley of Desolation he saw a +young man who was naked and weeping. His hair was the colour of honey, +and his body was as a white flower, but he had wounded his body with +thorns and on his hair had he set ashes as a crown. + +And he who had great possessions said to the young man who was naked and +weeping, ‘I do not wonder that your sorrow is so great, for surely He was +a just man.’ + +And the young man answered, ‘It is not for Him that I am weeping, but for +myself. I too have changed water into wine, and I have healed the leper +and given sight to the blind. I have walked upon the waters, and from +the dwellers in the tombs I have cast out devils. I have fed the hungry +in the desert where there was no food, and I have raised the dead from +their narrow houses, and at my bidding, and before a great multitude, of +people, a barren fig-tree withered away. All things that this man has +done I have done also. And yet they have not crucified me.’ + + + +THE HOUSE OF JUDGMENT + + +And there was silence in the House of Judgment, and the Man came naked +before God. + +And God opened the Book of the Life of the Man. + +And God said to the Man, ‘Thy life hath been evil, and thou hast shown +cruelty to those who were in need of succour, and to those who lacked +help thou hast been bitter and hard of heart. The poor called to thee +and thou didst not hearken, and thine ears were closed to the cry of My +afflicted. The inheritance of the fatherless thou didst take unto +thyself, and thou didst send the foxes into the vineyard of thy +neighbour’s field. Thou didst take the bread of the children and give it +to the dogs to eat, and My lepers who lived in the marshes, and were at +peace and praised Me, thou didst drive forth on to the highways, and on +Mine earth out of which I made thee thou didst spill innocent blood.’ + +And the Man made answer and said, ‘Even so did I.’ + +And again God opened the Book of the Life of the Man. + +And God said to the Man, ‘Thy life hath been evil, and the Beauty I have +shown thou hast sought for, and the Good I have hidden thou didst pass +by. The walls of thy chamber were painted with images, and from the bed +of thine abominations thou didst rise up to the sound of flutes. Thou +didst build seven altars to the sins I have suffered, and didst eat of +the thing that may not be eaten, and the purple of thy raiment was +broidered with the three signs of shame. Thine idols were neither of +gold nor of silver that endure, but of flesh that dieth. Thou didst +stain their hair with perfumes and put pomegranates in their hands. Thou +didst stain their feet with saffron and spread carpets before them. With +antimony thou didst stain their eyelids and their bodies thou didst smear +with myrrh. Thou didst bow thyself to the ground before them, and the +thrones of thine idols were set in the sun. Thou didst show to the sun +thy shame and to the moon thy madness.’ + +And the Man made answer and said, ‘Even so did I.’ + +And a third time God opened the Book of the Life of the Man. + +And God said to the Man, ‘Evil hath been thy life, and with evil didst +thou requite good, and with wrongdoing kindness. The hands that fed thee +thou didst wound, and the breasts that gave thee suck thou didst despise. +He who came to thee with water went away thirsting, and the outlawed men +who hid thee in their tents at night thou didst betray before dawn. +Thine enemy who spared thee thou didst snare in an ambush, and the friend +who walked with thee thou didst sell for a price, and to those who +brought thee Love thou didst ever give Lust in thy turn.’ + +And the Man made answer and said, ‘Even so did I.’ + +And God closed the Book of the Life of the Man, and said, ‘Surely I will +send thee into Hell. Even into Hell will I send thee.’ + +And the Man cried out, ‘Thou canst not.’ + +And God said to the Man, ‘Wherefore can I not send thee to Hell, and for +what reason?’ + +‘Because in Hell have I always lived,’ answered the Man. + +And there was silence in the House of Judgment. + +And after a space God spake, and said to the Man, ‘Seeing that I may not +send thee into Hell, surely I will send thee unto Heaven. Even unto +Heaven will I send thee.’ + +And the Man cried out, ‘Thou canst not.’ + +And God said to the Man, ‘Wherefore can I not send thee unto Heaven, and +for what reason?’ + +‘Because never, and in no place, have I been able to imagine it,’ +answered the Man. + +And there was silence in the House of Judgment. + + + +THE TEACHER OF WISDOM + + +From his childhood he had been as one filled with the perfect knowledge +of God, and even while he was yet but a lad many of the saints, as well +as certain holy women who dwelt in the free city of his birth, had been +stirred to much wonder by the grave wisdom of his answers. + +And when his parents had given him the robe and the ring of manhood he +kissed them, and left them and went out into the world, that he might +speak to the world about God. For there were at that time many in the +world who either knew not God at all, or had but an incomplete knowledge +of Him, or worshipped the false gods who dwell in groves and have no care +of their worshippers. + +And he set his face to the sun and journeyed, walking without sandals, as +he had seen the saints walk, and carrying at his girdle a leathern wallet +and a little water-bottle of burnt clay. + +And as he walked along the highway he was full of the joy that comes from +the perfect knowledge of God, and he sang praises unto God without +ceasing; and after a time he reached a strange land in which there were +many cities. + +And he passed through eleven cities. And some of these cities were in +valleys, and others were by the banks of great rivers, and others were +set on hills. And in each city he found a disciple who loved him and +followed him, and a great multitude also of people followed him from each +city, and the knowledge of God spread in the whole land, and many of the +rulers were converted, and the priests of the temples in which there were +idols found that half of their gain was gone, and when they beat upon +their drums at noon none, or but a few, came with peacocks and with +offerings of flesh as had been the custom of the land before his coming. + +Yet the more the people followed him, and the greater the number of his +disciples, the greater became his sorrow. And he knew not why his sorrow +was so great. For he spake ever about God, and out of the fulness of +that perfect knowledge of God which God had Himself given to him. + +And one evening he passed out of the eleventh city, which was a city of +Armenia, and his disciples and a great crowd of people followed after +him; and he went up on to a mountain and sat down on a rock that was on +the mountain, and his disciples stood round him, and the multitude knelt +in the valley. + +And he bowed his head on his hands and wept, and said to his Soul, ‘Why +is it that I am full of sorrow and fear, and that each of my disciples is +an enemy that walks in the noonday?’ And his Soul answered him and said, +‘God filled thee with the perfect knowledge of Himself, and thou hast +given this knowledge away to others. The pearl of great price thou hast +divided, and the vesture without seam thou hast parted asunder. He who +giveth away wisdom robbeth himself. He is as one who giveth his treasure +to a robber. Is not God wiser than thou art? Who art thou to give away +the secret that God hath told thee? I was rich once, and thou hast made +me poor. Once I saw God, and now thou hast hidden Him from me.’ + +And he wept again, for he knew that his Soul spake truth to him, and that +he had given to others the perfect knowledge of God, and that he was as +one clinging to the skirts of God, and that his faith was leaving him by +reason of the number of those who believed in him. + +And he said to himself, ‘I will talk no more about God. He who giveth +away wisdom robbeth himself.’ + +And after the space of some hours his disciples came near him and bowed +themselves to the ground and said, ‘Master, talk to us about God, for +thou hast the perfect knowledge of God, and no man save thee hath this +knowledge.’ + +And he answered them and said, ‘I will talk to you about all other things +that are in heaven and on earth, but about God I will not talk to you. +Neither now, nor at any time, will I talk to you about God.’ + +And they were wroth with him and said to him, ‘Thou hast led us into the +desert that we might hearken to thee. Wilt thou send us away hungry, and +the great multitude that thou hast made to follow thee?’ + +And he answered them and said, ‘I will not talk to you about God.’ + +And the multitude murmured against him and said to him, ‘Thou hast led us +into the desert, and hast given us no food to eat. Talk to us about God +and it will suffice us.’ + +But he answered them not a word. For he knew that if he spake to them +about God he would give away his treasure. + +And his disciples went away sadly, and the multitude of people returned +to their own homes. And many died on the way. + +And when he was alone he rose up and set his face to the moon, and +journeyed for seven moons, speaking to no man nor making any answer. And +when the seventh moon had waned he reached that desert which is the +desert of the Great River. And having found a cavern in which a Centaur +had once dwelt, he took it for his place of dwelling, and made himself a +mat of reeds on which to lie, and became a hermit. And every hour the +Hermit praised God that He had suffered him to keep some knowledge of Him +and of His wonderful greatness. + +Now, one evening, as the Hermit was seated before the cavern in which he +had made his place of dwelling, he beheld a young man of evil and +beautiful face who passed by in mean apparel and with empty hands. Every +evening with empty hands the young man passed by, and every morning he +returned with his hands full of purple and pearls. For he was a Robber +and robbed the caravans of the merchants. + +And the Hermit looked at him and pitied him. But he spake not a word. +For he knew that he who speaks a word loses his faith. + +And one morning, as the young man returned with his hands full of purple +and pearls, he stopped and frowned and stamped his foot upon the sand, +and said to the Hermit: ‘Why do you look at me ever in this manner as I +pass by? What is it that I see in your eyes? For no man has looked at +me before in this manner. And the thing is a thorn and a trouble to me.’ + +And the Hermit answered him and said, ‘What you see in my eyes is pity. +Pity is what looks out at you from my eyes.’ + +And the young man laughed with scorn, and cried to the Hermit in a bitter +voice, and said to him, ‘I have purple and pearls in my hands, and you +have but a mat of reeds on which to lie. What pity should you have for +me? And for what reason have you this pity?’ + +‘I have pity for you,’ said the Hermit, ‘because you have no knowledge of +God.’ + +‘Is this knowledge of God a precious thing?’ asked the young man, and he +came close to the mouth of the cavern. + +‘It is more precious than all the purple and the pearls of the world,’ +answered the Hermit. + +‘And have you got it?’ said the young Robber, and he came closer still. + +‘Once, indeed,’ answered the Hermit, ‘I possessed the perfect knowledge +of God. But in my foolishness I parted with it, and divided it amongst +others. Yet even now is such knowledge as remains to me more precious +than purple or pearls.’ + +And when the young Robber heard this he threw away the purple and the +pearls that he was bearing in his hands, and drawing a sharp sword of +curved steel he said to the Hermit, ‘Give me, forthwith this knowledge of +God that you possess, or I will surely slay you. Wherefore should I not +slay him who has a treasure greater than my treasure?’ + +And the Hermit spread out his arms and said, ‘Were it not better for me +to go unto the uttermost courts of God and praise Him, than to live in +the world and have no knowledge of Him? Slay me if that be your desire. +But I will not give away my knowledge of God.’ + +And the young Robber knelt down and besought him, but the Hermit would +not talk to him about God, nor give him his Treasure, and the young +Robber rose up and said to the Hermit, ‘Be it as you will. As for +myself, I will go to the City of the Seven Sins, that is but three days’ +journey from this place, and for my purple they will give me pleasure, +and for my pearls they will sell me joy.’ And he took up the purple and +the pearls and went swiftly away. + +And the Hermit cried out and followed him and besought him. For the +space of three days he followed the young Robber on the road and +entreated him to return, nor to enter into the City of the Seven Sins. + +And ever and anon the young Robber looked back at the Hermit and called +to him, and said, ‘Will you give me this knowledge of God which is more +precious than purple and pearls? If you will give me that, I will not +enter the city.’ + +And ever did the Hermit answer, ‘All things that I have I will give thee, +save that one thing only. For that thing it is not lawful for me to give +away.’ + +And in the twilight of the third day they came nigh to the great scarlet +gates of the City of the Seven Sins. And from the city there came the +sound of much laughter. + +And the young Robber laughed in answer, and sought to knock at the gate. +And as he did so the Hermit ran forward and caught him by the skirts of +his raiment, and said to him: ‘Stretch forth your hands, and set your +arms around my neck, and put your ear close to my lips, and I will give +you what remains to me of the knowledge of God.’ And the young Robber +stopped. + +And when the Hermit had given away his knowledge of God, he fell upon the +ground and wept, and a great darkness hid from him the city and the young +Robber, so that he saw them no more. + +And as he lay there weeping he was ware of One who was standing beside +him; and He who was standing beside him had feet of brass and hair like +fine wool. And He raised the Hermit up, and said to him: ‘Before this +time thou hadst the perfect knowledge of God. Now thou shalt have the +perfect love of God. Wherefore art thou weeping?’ And he kissed him. + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +{29} Plato’s _Laws_; Æschylus’ _Prometheus Bound_. + +{31} Somewhat in the same spirit Plato, in his _Laws_, appeals to the +local position of Ilion among the rivers of the plain, as a proof that it +was not built till long after the Deluge. + +{32} Plutarch remarks that the _only_ evidence Greece possesses of the +truth that the legendary power of Athens is no ‘romance or idle story,’ +is the public and sacred buildings. This is an instance of the +exaggerated importance given to ruins against which Thucydides is warning +us. + +{37} The fictitious sale in the Roman marriage _per coemptionem_ was +originally, of course, a real sale. + +{43} Notably, of course, in the case of heat and its laws. + +{57} Cousin errs a good deal in this respect. To say, as he did, ‘Give +me the latitude and the longitude of a country, its rivers and its +mountains, and I will deduce the race,’ is surely a glaring exaggeration. + +{59} The monarchical, aristocratical, and democratic elements of the +Roman constitution are referred to. + +{63a} Polybius, vi. 9. _αὔτη πολιτειῶν ἀνακύκλωσις_, _αὔτς φύσεως +οἰκονομία_. + +{63b} _χωρὶς ὀργῆς ἢ φθόνου ποιούμεηος τὴν ἀπόφασιν_. + +{63c} The various stages are _σύστασις_, _αὔξησις_, _ἀκμή_, _μεταβολὴ +ἐις τοὔμπαλιν_. + +{68} Polybius, xii. 24. + +{69a} Polybius, i. 4, viii. 4, specially; and really _passim_. + +{69b} He makes one exception. + +{69c} Polybius, viii. 4. + +{71} Polybius, xvi. 12. + +{72a} Polybius, viii. 4: _τὸ παραδοξάτον καθ’ ἡμᾶς ἔργον ἡ τύχη +συνετέλεσε_; _τοῦτο δ’ ἔστι τὸ πάντα τὰ γνωριζόμενα μέρη τῆς οἰκουμένης +ὑπὸ μίαν ἀρχὴν καὶ δυναστείαν ἀγαγεῖν_, _ὂ πρότερον οὐχ εὑρίσκεται +γεγονός_. + +{72b} Polybius resembled Gibbon in many respects. Like him he held that +all religions were to the philosopher equally false, to the vulgar +equally true, to the statesman equally useful. + +{76} Cf. Polybius, xii. 25, _ἐπεὶ ψιλῶς λεγόμενον αὐτὄ γεγονὸς ψυχαγωγεῖ +μέν_, _ὠφελεῖ δ’ οὐδέν_· _προστεθείσης δὲ τῆς αἰτίας ἔγκαρπος ἡ τῆς +ἱστορίας γίγνεται χρῆσις_. + +{78} Polybius, xxii. 8. + +{81} I mean particularly as regards his sweeping denunciation of the +complete moral decadence of Greek society during the Peloponnesain War, +which, from what remains to us of Athenian literature, we know must have +been completely exaggerated. Or, rather, he is looking at men merely in +their political dealings: and in politics the man who is personally +honourable and refined will not scruple to do anything for his party. + +{86} Polybius, xii. 25. + +{124} As an instance of the inaccuracy of published reports of this +lecture, it may be mentioned that all unauthorised versions give this +passage as _The artist may trace the depressed revolution of Bunthorne +simply to the lack of technical means_! + +{206} _The Two Paths_, Lect. iii. p. 123 (1859 ed.). + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS AND LECTURES*** + + +******* This file should be named 774-0.txt or 774-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/7/7/774 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Essays and Lectures + + +Author: Oscar Wilde + +Editor: Robert Ross + +Release Date: March 12, 2013 [eBook #774] +[This file was first posted on January 5, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS AND LECTURES*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1913 Methuen and Co edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>ESSAYS AND LECTURES</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +OSCAR WILDE</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">METHUEN & CO. LTD.<br /> +36 ESSEX STREET W.C.<br /> +LONDON</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Fourth Edition</i></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pageiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +iv</span><i>First Published in Book Form</i> (<i>Limited Edition +on Handmade Paper and Japanese Vellum</i>)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>1908</i></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Second Edition</i> (<i>F’cap.</i> 8<i>vo</i>)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>1909</i></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Third Edition</i> ( ,, ,, )</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>1911</i></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Fourth Edition</i> ( ,, ,, )</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>1913</i></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="pagev"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. v</span><span +class="GutSmall">DEDICATED</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">TO</span><br /> +WALTER LEDGER<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE AUTHOR’S LITERARY +EXECUTOR</span></p> +<h2><a name="pagevii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vii</span>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE RISE OF HISTORICAL CRITICISM</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE ENGLISH RENAISSANCE OF ART</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page109">109</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>HOUSE DECORATION</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page157">157</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>ART AND THE HANDICRAFTMAN</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page173">173</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>LECTURE TO ART STUDENTS</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page197">197</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>LONDON MODELS</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page213">213</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>POEMS IN PROSE</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page227">227</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="pageix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +ix</span>PREFACE</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">With</span> the exception of the <i>Poems +in Prose</i> this volume does not contain anything which the +author ever contemplated reprinting. <i>The Rise of +Historical Criticism</i> is interesting to admirers of his work, +however, because it shows the development of his style and the +wide intellectual range distinguishing the least +<i>borné</i> of all the late Victorian writers, with the +possible exception of Ruskin. It belongs to Wilde’s +Oxford days when he was the unsuccessful competitor for the +Chancellor’s English Essay Prize. Perhaps Magdalen, +which has never forgiven herself for nurturing the author of +<i>Ravenna</i>, may be felicitated on having escaped the further +intolerable honour that she might have suffered by seeing crowned +again with paltry academic parsley the most highly gifted of all +her children in the last century.</p> +<p>Of the lectures, I have only included those which exist, so +far as I know, in manuscript; the reports of others in +contemporary newspapers being untrustworthy. They were +usually delivered <a name="pagex"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +x</span>from notes and were repeated at various towns in England +and America. Here will be found the origin of +Whistler’s charges of plagiarism against the author. +How far they are justified the reader can decide for himself, +Wilde always admitted that, relying on an old and intimate +friendship, he asked the artist’s assistance on one +occasion for a lecture he had failed to prepare in time. +This I presume to be the Address delivered to the Art Students of +the Royal Academy in 1883, as Whistler certainly reproduced some +of it as his own in the ‘Ten o’clock’ lecture +delivered subsequently, in 1885. To what extent an idea may +be regarded as a perpetual gift, or whether it is ethically +possible to retrieve an idea like an engagement ring, it is not +for me to discuss. I would only point out once more that +all the works by which Wilde is known throughout Europe were +written after the two friends had quarrelled. That Wilde +derived a great deal from the older man goes without saying, just +as he derived so much in a greater degree from Pater, Ruskin, +Arnold and Burne-Jones. Yet the tedious attempt to +recognise in every jest of his some original by Whistler induces +the criticism that it seems a pity the great painter did not get +them off on the public before <a name="pagexi"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xi</span>he was forestalled. Reluctance +from an appeal to publicity was never a weakness in either of the +men. Some of Wilde’s more frequently quoted sayings +were made at the Old Bailey (though their provenance is often +forgotten) or on his death-bed.</p> +<p>As a matter of fact the genius of the two men was entirely +different. Wilde was a humourist and a humanist before +everything; and his wittiest jests have neither the +relentlessness nor the keenness characterising those of the +clever American artist. Again, Whistler could no more have +obtained the Berkeley Gold Medal for Greek, nor have written +<i>The Importance of Being Earnest</i>, and <i>The Soul of +Man</i>, than Wilde, even if equipped as a painter, could have +evinced that superb restraint characterising the portraits of +‘Miss Alexander,’ ‘Carlyle,’ and other +masterpieces. Wilde, though it is not generally known, was +something of a draughtsman in his youth.</p> +<p><i>Poems in Prose</i> were to have been continued. They +are the kind of stories which Wilde would tell at a dinner-table, +being invented on the spur of the moment, or inspired by the +chance observation of some one who managed to get the traditional +word in edgeways; or they were <a name="pagexii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xii</span>developed from some phrase in a book +Wilde might have read during the day. To those who remember +hearing them from his lips there must always be a feeling of +disappointment on reading them. He overloaded their +ornament when he came to transcribe them, and some of his friends +did not hesitate to make that criticism to him personally. +Though he affected annoyance, I do not think it prevented him +from writing the others, which unfortunately exist only in the +memories of friends. Miss Aimée Lowther, however, +has cleverly noted down some of them in a privately printed +volume.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Robert +Ross</span></p> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>THE RISE +OF HISTORICAL CRITICISM</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">This Essay was written for the +Chancellor’s English Essay Prize at Oxford in 1879, the +subject being ‘Historical Criticism among the +Ancients.’ The prize was not awarded. To +Professor J. W. Mackail thanks are due for revising the +proofs.</p> +<h3>I</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Historical</span> criticism nowhere occurs +as an isolated fact in the civilisation or literature of any +people. It is part of that complex working towards freedom +which may be described as the revolt against authority. It +is merely one facet of that speculative spirit of an innovation, +which in the sphere of action produces democracy and revolution, +and in that of thought is the parent of philosophy and physical +science; and its importance as a factor of progress is based not +so much on the results it attains, as on the tone of thought +which it represents, and the method by which it works.</p> +<p>Being thus the resultant of forces essentially revolutionary, +it is not to be found in the ancient world among the material +despotisms of Asia or the stationary civilisation of Egypt. +The clay cylinders of Assyria and Babylon, the hieroglyphics of +the pyramids, form not history but the material for history.</p> +<p>The Chinese annals, ascending as they do to the barbarous +forest life of the nation, are marked with a soberness of +judgment, a freedom from invention, which is almost unparalleled +in the writings of any people; but the protective spirit which is +the characteristic of that people proved as fatal to their +literature as to their commerce. Free criticism is as +unknown as free trade. While as regards the Hindus, their +acute, analytical and logical mind is directed rather to grammar, +criticism and philosophy than to history or chronology. +Indeed, in history their imagination seems to have run wild, +legend and fact are so indissolubly mingled together that any +attempt to separate them seems vain. If we except the +identification of the Greek Sandracottus with the Indian +Chandragupta, we have really no clue by which we can test the +truth of their writings or examine their method of +investigation.</p> +<p>It is among the Hellenic branch of the Indo-Germanic race that +history proper is to be found, as well as the spirit of +historical criticism; among that wonderful offshoot of the +primitive Aryans, whom we call by the name of Greeks and to whom, +as has been well said, we owe all that moves in the world except +the blind forces of nature.</p> +<p>For, from the day when they left the chill table-lands of +Tibet and journeyed, a nomad people, to Ægean shores, the +characteristic of their nature has been the search for light, and +the spirit of historical criticism is part of that wonderful +Aufklärung or illumination of the intellect which seems to +have burst on the Greek race like a great flood of light about +the sixth century <span class="GutSmall">B.C.</span></p> +<p><i>L’esprit d’un siècle ne naît pas +et ne meurt pas à jour fixe</i>, and the first critic is +perhaps as difficult to discover as the first man. It is +from democracy that the spirit of criticism borrows its +intolerance of dogmatic authority, from physical science the +alluring analogies of law and order, from philosophy the +conception of an essential unity underlying the complex +manifestations of phenomena. It appears first rather as a +changed attitude of mind than as a principle of research, and its +earliest influences are to be found in the sacred writings.</p> +<p>For men begin to doubt in questions of religion first, and +then in matters of more secular interest; and as regards the +nature of the spirit of historical criticism itself in its +ultimate development, it is not confined merely to the empirical +method of ascertaining whether an event happened or not, but is +concerned also with the investigation into the causes of events, +the general relations which phenomena of life hold to one +another, and in its ultimate development passes into the wider +question of the philosophy of history.</p> +<p>Now, while the workings of historical criticism in these two +spheres of sacred and uninspired history are essentially +manifestations of the same spirit, yet their methods are so +different, the canons of evidence so entirely separate, and the +motives in each case so unconnected, that it will be necessary +for a clear estimation of the progress of Greek thought, that we +should consider these two questions entirely apart from one +another. I shall then in both cases take the succession of +writers in their chronological order as representing the rational +order—not that the succession of time is always the +succession of ideas, or that dialectics moves ever in the +straight line in which Hegel conceives its advance. In +Greek thought, as elsewhere, there are periods of stagnation and +apparent retrogression, yet their intellectual development, not +merely in the question of historical criticism, but in their art, +their poetry and their philosophy, seems so essentially normal, +so free from all disturbing external influences, so peculiarly +rational, that in following in the footsteps of time we shall +really be progressing in the order sanctioned by reason.</p> +<h3>II</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> an early period in their +intellectual development the Greeks reached that critical point +in the history of every civilised nation, when speculative +invades the domain of revealed truth, when the spiritual ideas of +the people can no longer be satisfied by the lower, material +conceptions of their inspired writers, and when men find it +impossible to pour the new wine of free thought into the old +bottles of a narrow and a trammelling creed.</p> +<p>From their Aryan ancestors they had received the fatal legacy +of a mythology stained with immoral and monstrous stories which +strove to hide the rational order of nature in a chaos of +miracles, and to mar by imputed wickedness the perfection of +God’s nature—a very shirt of Nessos in which the +Heracles of rationalism barely escaped annihilation. Now +while undoubtedly the speculations of Thales, and the alluring +analogies of law and order afforded by physical science, were +most important forces in encouraging the rise of the spirit of +scepticism, yet it was on its ethical side that the Greek +mythology was chiefly open to attack.</p> +<p>It is difficult to shake the popular belief in miracles, but +no man will admit sin and immorality as attributes of the Ideal +he worships; so the first symptoms of a new order of thought are +shown in the passionate outcries of Xenophanes and Heraclitos +against the evil things said by Homer of the sons of God; and in +the story told of Pythagoras, how that he saw tortured in Hell +the ‘two founders of Greek theology,’ we can +recognise the rise of the Aufklärung as clearly as we see +the Reformation foreshadowed in the <i>Inferno</i> of Dante.</p> +<p>Any honest belief, then, in the plain truth of these stories +soon succumbed before the destructive effects of the <i>a +priori</i> ethical criticism of this school; but the orthodox +party, as is its custom, found immediately a convenient shelter +under the ægis of the doctrine of metaphors and concealed +meanings.</p> +<p>To this allegorical school the tale of the fight around the +walls of Troy was a mystery, behind which, as behind a veil, were +hidden certain moral and physical truths. The contest +between Athena and Ares was that eternal contest between rational +thought and the brute force of ignorance; the arrows which +rattled in the quiver of the ‘Far Darter’ were no +longer the instruments of vengeance shot from the golden bow of +the child of God, but the common rays of the sun, which was +itself nothing but a mere inert mass of burning metal.</p> +<p>Modern investigation, with the ruthlessness of Philistine +analysis, has ultimately brought Helen of Troy down to a symbol +of the dawn. There were Philistines among the Greeks also +who saw in the <i>ἄναξ +ἀδρῶν</i> a mere metaphor for +atmospheric power.</p> +<p>Now while this tendency to look for metaphors and hidden +meanings must be ranked as one of the germs of historical +criticism, yet it was essentially unscientific. Its +inherent weakness is clearly pointed out by Plato, who showed +that while this theory will no doubt explain many of the current +legends, yet, if it is to be appealed to at all, it must be as a +universal principle; a position he is by no means prepared to +admit.</p> +<p>Like many other great principles it suffered from its +disciples, and furnished its own refutation when the web of +Penelope was analysed into a metaphor of the rules of formal +logic, the warp representing the premises, and the woof the +conclusion.</p> +<p>Rejecting, then, the allegorical interpretation of the sacred +writings as an essentially dangerous method, proving either too +much or too little, Plato himself returns to the earlier mode of +attack, and re-writes history with a didactic purpose, laying +down certain ethical canons of historical criticism. God is +good; God is just; God is true; God is without the common +passions of men. These are the tests to which we are to +bring the stories of the Greek religion.</p> +<p>‘God predestines no men to ruin, nor sends destruction +on innocent cities; He never walks the earth in strange disguise, +nor has to mourn for the death of any well-beloved son. +Away with the tears for Sarpedon, the lying dream sent to +Agamemnon, and the story of the broken covenant!’ +(Plato, <i>Republic</i>, Book ii. 380; iii. 388, 391.)</p> +<p>Similar ethical canons are applied to the accounts of the +heroes of the days of old, and by the same <i>a priori</i> +principles Achilles is rescued from the charges of avarice and +insolence in a passage which may be recited as the earliest +instance of that ‘whitewashing of great men,’ as it +has been called, which is so popular in our own day, when +Catiline and Clodius are represented as honest and far-seeing +politicians, when <i>eine edle und gute Natur</i> is claimed for +Tiberius, and Nero is rescued from his heritage of infamy as an +accomplished <i>dilettante</i> whose moral aberrations are more +than excused by his exquisite artistic sense and charming tenor +voice.</p> +<p>But besides the allegorising principle of interpretation, and +the ethical reconstruction of history, there was a third theory, +which may be called the semi-historical, and which goes by the +name of Euhemeros, though he was by no means the first to +propound it.</p> +<p>Appealing to a fictitious monument which he declared that he +had discovered in the island of Panchaia, and which purported to +be a column erected by Zeus, and detailing the incidents of his +reign on earth, this shallow thinker attempted to show that the +gods and heroes of ancient Greece were ‘mere ordinary +mortals, whose achievements had been a good deal exaggerated and +misrepresented,’ and that the proper canon of historical +criticism as regards the treatment of myths was to rationalise +the incredible, and to present the plausible residuum as actual +truth.</p> +<p>To him and his school, the centaurs, for instance, those +mythical sons of the storm, strange links between the lives of +men and animals, were merely some youths from the village of +Nephele in Thessaly, distinguished for their sporting tastes; the +‘living harvest of panoplied knights,’ which sprang +so mystically from the dragon’s teeth, a body of mercenary +troops supported by the profits on a successful speculation in +ivory; and Actæon, an ordinary master of hounds, who, +living before the days of subscription, was eaten out of house +and home by the expenses of his kennel.</p> +<p>Now, that under the glamour of myth and legend some substratum +of historical fact may lie, is a proposition rendered extremely +probable by the modern investigations into the workings of the +mythopœic spirit in post-Christian times. Charlemagne +and Roland, St. Francis and William Tell, are none the less real +personages because their histories are filled with much that is +fictitious and incredible, but in all cases what is essentially +necessary is some external corroboration, such as is afforded by +the mention of Roland and Roncesvalles in the chronicles of +England, or (in the sphere of Greek legend) by the excavations of +Hissarlik. But to rob a mythical narrative of its kernel of +supernatural elements, and to present the dry husk thus obtained +as historical fact, is, as has been well said, to mistake +entirely the true method of investigation and to identify +plausibility with truth.</p> +<p>And as regards the critical point urged by Palaiphatos, +Strabo, and Polybius, that pure invention on Homer’s part +is inconceivable, we may without scruple allow it, for myths, +like constitutions, grow gradually, and are not formed in a +day. But between a poet’s deliberate creation and +historical accuracy there is a wide field of the mythopœic +faculty.</p> +<p>This Euhemeristic theory was welcomed as an essentially +philosophical and critical method by the unscientific Romans, to +whom it was introduced by the poet Ennius, that pioneer of +cosmopolitan Hellenicism, and it continued to characterise the +tone of ancient thought on the question of the treatment of +mythology till the rise of Christianity, when it was turned by +such writers as Augustine and Minucius Felix into a formidable +weapon of attack on Paganism. It was then abandoned by all +those who still bent the knee to Athena or to Zeus, and a general +return, aided by the philosophic mystics of Alexandria, to the +allegorising principle of interpretation took place, as the only +means of saving the deities of Olympus from the Titan assaults of +the new Galilean God. In what vain defence, the statue of +Mary set in the heart of the Pantheon can best tell us.</p> +<p>Religions, however, may be absorbed, but they never are +disproved, and the stories of the Greek mythology, spiritualised +by the purifying influence of Christianity, reappear in many of +the southern parts of Europe in our own day. The old fable +that the Greek gods took service with the new religion under +assumed names has more truth in it than the many care to +discover.</p> +<p>Having now traced the progress of historical criticism in the +special treatment of myth and legend, I shall proceed to +investigate the form in which the same spirit manifested itself +as regards what one may term secular history and secular +historians. The field traversed will be found to be in some +respects the same, but the mental attitude, the spirit, the +motive of investigation are all changed.</p> +<p>There were heroes before the son of Atreus and historians +before Herodotus, yet the latter is rightly hailed as the father +of history, for in him we discover not merely the empirical +connection of cause and effect, but that constant reference to +Laws, which is the characteristic of the historian proper.</p> +<p>For all history must be essentially universal; not in the +sense of comprising all the synchronous events of the past time, +but through the universality of the principles employed. +And the great conceptions which unify the work of Herodotus are +such as even modern thought has not yet rejected. The +immediate government of the world by God, the nemesis and +punishment which sin and pride invariably bring with them, the +revealing of God’s purpose to His people by signs and +omens, by miracles and by prophecy; these are to Herodotus the +laws which govern the phenomena of history. He is +essentially the type of supernatural historian; his eyes are ever +strained to discern the Spirit of God moving over the face of the +waters of life; he is more concerned with final than with +efficient causes.</p> +<p>Yet we can discern in him the rise of that <i>historic +sense</i> which is the rational antecedent of the science of +historical criticism, the +<i>φυσικὸν +κριτήριον</i>, to use +the words of a Greek writer, as opposed to that which comes +either <i>τέχνη</i> or +<i>διδαχῇ</i>.</p> +<p>He has passed through the valley of faith and has caught a +glimpse of the sunlit heights of Reason; but like all those who, +while accepting the supernatural, yet attempt to apply the canons +of rationalism, he is essentially inconsistent. For the +better apprehension of the character of this historic sense in +Herodotus it will be necessary to examine at some length the +various forms of criticism in which it manifests itself.</p> +<p>Such fabulous stories as that of the Phoenix, of the +goat-footed men, of the headless beings with eyes in their +breasts, of the men who slept six months in the year +(<i>τοῦτο οὐκ +ἐνδέχομαι +ηὴν ἀρχήν</i>), of the +wer-wolf of the Neuri, and the like, are entirely rejected by him +as being opposed to the ordinary experience of life, and to those +natural laws whose universal influence the early Greek physical +philosophers had already made known to the world of +thought. Other legends, such as the suckling of Cyrus by a +bitch, or the feather-rain of northern Europe, are rationalised +and explained into a woman’s name and a fall of snow. +The supernatural origin of the Scythian nation, from the union of +Hercules and the monstrous Echidna, is set aside by him for the +more probable account that they were a nomad tribe driven by the +Massagetæ from Asia; and he appeals to the local names of +their country as proof of the fact that the Kimmerians were the +original possessors.</p> +<p>But in the case of Herodotus it will be more instructive to +pass on from points like these to those questions of general +probability, the true apprehension of which depends rather on a +certain quality of mind than on any possibility of formulated +rules, questions which form no unimportant part of scientific +history; for it must be remembered always that the canons of +historical criticism are essentially different from those of +judicial evidence, for they cannot, like the latter, be made +plain to every ordinary mind, but appeal to a certain historical +faculty founded on the experience of life. Besides, the +rules for the reception of evidence in courts of law are purely +stationary, while the science of historical probability is +essentially progressive, and changes with the advancing spirit of +each age.</p> +<p>Now, of all the speculative canons of historical criticism, +none is more important than that which rests on psychological +probability.</p> +<p>Arguing from his knowledge of human nature, Herodotus rejects +the presence of Helen within the walls of Troy. Had she +been there, he says, Priam and his kinsmen would never have been +so mad +(<i>φρενοβλαβεῖς</i>) +as not to give her up, when they and their children and their +city were in such peril (ii. 118); and as regards the authority +of Homer, some incidental passages in his poem show that he knew +of Helen’s sojourn in Egypt during the siege, but selected +the other story as being a more suitable motive for an +epic. Similarly he does not believe that the +Alcmæonidæ family, a family who had always been the +haters of tyranny +(<i>μισοτύραννοι</i>), +and to whom, even more than to Harmodios and Aristogeiton, Athens +owed its liberty, would ever have been so treacherous as to hold +up a shield after the battle of Marathon as a signal for the +Persian host to fall on the city. A shield, he +acknowledges, was held up, but it could not possibly have been +done by such friends of liberty as the house of Alcmæon; +nor will he believe that a great king like Rhampsinitus would +have sent his daughter +<i>κατίσαι +ἐπ’ +οἰκήματος</i>.</p> +<p>Elsewhere he argues from more general considerations of +probability; a Greek courtesan like Rhodopis would hardly have +been rich enough to build a pyramid, and, besides, on +chronological grounds the story is impossible (ii. 134).</p> +<p>In another passage (ii. 63), after giving an account of the +forcible entry of the priests of Ares into the chapel of the +god’s mother, which seems to have been a sort of religious +faction fight where sticks were freely used +(<i>μάχη +ξύλοισι +καρτερή</i>), ‘I feel +sure,’ he says, ‘that many of them died from getting +their heads broken, notwithstanding the assertions of the +Egyptian priests to the contrary.’ There is also +something charmingly naïve in the account he gives of the +celebrated Greek swimmer who dived a distance of eighty stadia to +give his countrymen warning of the Persian advance. +‘If, however,’ he says, ‘I may offer an opinion +on the subject, I would say that he came in a boat.’</p> +<p>There is, of course, something a little trivial in some of the +instances I have quoted; but in a writer like Herodotus, who +stands on the borderland between faith and rationalism, one likes +to note even the most minute instances of the rise of the +critical and sceptical spirit of inquiry.</p> +<p>How really strange, at base, it was with him may, I think, be +shown by a reference to those passages where he applies +rationalistic tests to matters connected with religion. He +nowhere, indeed, grapples with the moral and scientific +difficulties of the Greek Bible; and where he rejects as +incredible the marvellous achievements of Hercules in Egypt, he +does so on the express grounds that he had not yet been received +among the gods, and so was still subject to the ordinary +conditions of mortal life (<i>ἔτι +ἄνθρωπον +ἐόντα</i>).</p> +<p>Even within these limits, however, his religious conscience +seems to have been troubled at such daring rationalism, and the +passage (ii. 45) concludes with a pious hope that God will pardon +him for having gone so far, the great rationalistic passage +being, of course, that in which he rejects the mythical account +of the foundation of Dodona. ‘How can a dove speak +with a human voice?’ he asks, and rationalises the bird +into a foreign princess.</p> +<p>Similarly he seems more inclined to believe that the great +storm at the beginning of the Persian War ceased from ordinary +atmospheric causes, and not in consequence of the incantations of +the <i>Magians</i>. He calls Melampos, whom the majority of +the Greeks looked on as an inspired prophet, ‘a clever man +who had acquired for himself the art of prophecy’; and as +regards the miracle told of the Æginetan statues of the +primeval deities of Damia and Auxesia, that they fell on their +knees when the sacrilegious Athenians strove to carry them off, +‘any one may believe it,’ he says, ‘who likes, +but as for myself, I place no credence in the tale.’</p> +<p>So much then for the rationalistic spirit of historical +criticism, as far as it appears explicitly in the works of this +great and philosophic writer; but for an adequate appreciation of +his position we must also note how conscious he was of the value +of documentary evidence, of the use of inscriptions, of the +importance of the poets as throwing light on manners and customs +as well as on historical incidents. No writer of any age +has more vividly recognised the fact that history is a matter of +evidence, and that it is as necessary for the historian to state +his authority as it is to produce one’s witnesses in a +court of law.</p> +<p>While, however, we can discern in Herodotus the rise of an +historic sense, we must not blind ourselves to the large amount +of instances where he receives supernatural influences as part of +the ordinary forces of life. Compared to Thucydides, who +succeeded him in the development of history, he appears almost +like a mediæval writer matched with a modern +rationalist. For, contemporary though they were, between +these two authors there is an infinite chasm of thought.</p> +<p>The essential difference of their methods may be best +illustrated from those passages where they treat of the same +subject. The execution of the Spartan heralds, Nicolaos and +Aneristos, during the Peloponnesian War is regarded by Herodotus +as one of the most supernatural instances of the workings of +nemesis and the wrath of an outraged hero; while the lengthened +siege and ultimate fall of Troy was brought about by the avenging +hand of God desiring to manifest unto men the mighty penalties +which always follow upon mighty sins. But Thucydides either +sees not, or desires not to see, in either of these events the +finger of Providence, or the punishment of wicked doers. +The death of the heralds is merely an Athenian retaliation for +similar outrages committed by the opposite side; the long agony +of the ten years’ siege is due merely to the want of a good +commissariat in the Greek army; while the fall of the city is the +result of a united military attack consequent on a good supply of +provisions.</p> +<p>Now, it is to be observed that in this latter passage, as well +as elsewhere, Thucydides is in no sense of the word a sceptic as +regards his attitude towards the truth of these ancient +legends.</p> +<p>Agamemnon and Atreus, Theseus and Eurystheus, even Minos, +about whom Herodotus has some doubts, are to him as real +personages as Alcibiades or Gylippus. The points in his +historical criticism of the past are, first, his rejection of all +extra-natural interference, and, secondly, the attributing to +these ancient heroes the motives and modes of thought of his own +day. The present was to him the key to the explanation of +the past, as it was to the prediction of the future.</p> +<p>Now, as regards his attitude towards the supernatural he is at +one with modern science. We too know that, just as the +primeval coal-beds reveal to us the traces of rain-drops and +other atmospheric phenomena similar to those of our own day, so, +in estimating the history of the past, the introduction of no +force must be allowed whose workings we cannot observe among the +phenomena around us. To lay down canons of ultra-historical +credibility for the explanation of events which happen to have +preceded us by a few thousand years, is as thoroughly +unscientific as it is to intermingle preternatural in geological +theories.</p> +<p>Whatever the canons of art may be, no difficulty in history is +so great as to warrant the introduction of a spirit of spirit +<i>θεὸς ἀπὸ +μηχανῆς</i>, in the sense of a +violation of the laws of nature.</p> +<p>Upon the other point, however, Thucydides falls into an +anachronism. To refuse to allow the workings of chivalrous +and self-denying motives among the knights of the Trojan crusade, +because he saw none in the faction-loving Athenian of his own +day, is to show an entire ignorance of the various +characteristics of human nature developing under different +circumstances, and to deny to a primitive chieftain like +Agamemnon that authority founded on opinion, to which we give the +name of divine right, is to fall into an historical error quite +as gross as attributing to Atreus the courting of the populace +(<i>τεθεραπευκότα +τὸν δῆμον</i>) with a view +to the Mycenean throne.</p> +<p>The general method of historical criticism pursued by +Thucydides having been thus indicated, it remains to proceed more +into detail as regards those particular points where he claims +for himself a more rational method of estimating evidence than +either the public or his predecessors possessed.</p> +<p>‘So little pains,’ he remarks, ‘do the +vulgar take in the investigation of truth, satisfied with their +preconceived opinions,’ that the majority of the Greeks +believe in a Pitanate cohort of the Spartan army and in a double +vote being the prerogative of the Spartan kings, neither of which +opinions has any foundation in fact. But the chief point on +which he lays stress as evincing the ‘uncritical way with +which men receive legends, even the legends of their own +country,’ is the entire baselessness of the common Athenian +tradition in which Harmodios and Aristogeiton were represented as +the patriotic liberators of Athens from the Peisistratid +tyranny. So far, he points out, from the love of freedom +being their motive, both of them were influenced by merely +personal considerations, Aristogeiton being jealous of +Hipparchos’ attention to Harmodios, then a beautiful boy in +the flower of Greek loveliness, while the latter’s +indignation was aroused by an insult offered to his sister by the +prince.</p> +<p>Their motives, then, were personal revenge, while the result +of their conspiracy served only to rivet more tightly the chains +of servitude which bound Athens to the Peisistratid house, for +Hipparchos, whom they killed, was only the tyrant’s younger +brother, and not the tyrant himself.</p> +<p>To prove his theory that Hippias was the elder, he appeals to +the evidence afforded by a public inscription in which his name +occurs immediately after that of his father, a point which he +thinks shows that he was the eldest, and so the heir. This +view he further corroborates by another inscription, on the altar +of Apollo, which mentions the children of Hippias and not those +of his brothers; ‘for it was natural for the eldest to be +married first’; and besides this, on the score of general +probability he points out that, had Hippias been the younger, he +would not have so easily obtained the tyranny on the death of +Hipparchos.</p> +<p>Now, what is important in Thucydides, as evinced in the +treatment of legend generally, is not the results he arrived at, +but the method by which he works. The first great +rationalistic historian, he may be said to have paved the way for +all those who followed after him, though it must always be +remembered that, while the total absence in his pages of all the +mystical paraphernalia of the supernatural theory of life is an +advance in the progress of rationalism, and an era in scientific +history, whose importance could never be over-estimated, yet we +find along with it a total absence of any mention of those +various social and economical forces which form such important +factors in the evolution of the world, and to which Herodotus +rightly gave great prominence in his immortal work. The +history of Thucydides is essentially one-sided and +incomplete. The intricate details of sieges and battles, +subjects with which the historian proper has really nothing to do +except so far as they may throw light on the spirit of the age, +we would readily exchange for some notice of the condition of +private society in Athens, or the influence and position of +women.</p> +<p>There is an advance in the method of historical criticism; +there is an advance in the conception and motive of history +itself; for in Thucydides we may discern that natural reaction +against the intrusion of didactic and theological considerations +into the sphere of the pure intellect, the spirit of which may be +found in the Euripidean treatment of tragedy and the later +schools of art, as well as in the Platonic conception of +science.</p> +<p>History, no doubt, has splendid lessons for our instruction, +just as all good art comes to us as the herald of the noblest +truth. But, to set before either the painter or the +historian the inculcation of moral lessons as an aim to be +consciously pursued, is to miss entirely the true motive and +characteristic both of art and history, which is in the one case +the creation of beauty, in the other the discovery of the laws of +the evolution of progress: <i>Il ne faut demander de l’Art +que l’Art</i>, <i>du passé que le +passé</i>.</p> +<p>Herodotus wrote to illustrate the wonderful ways of Providence +and the nemesis that falls on sin, and his work is a good example +of the truth that nothing can dispense with criticism so much as +a moral aim. Thucydides has no creed to preach, no doctrine +to prove. He analyses the results which follow inevitably +from certain antecedents, in order that on a recurrence of the +same crisis men may know how to act.</p> +<p>His object was to discover the laws of the past so as to serve +as a light to illumine the future. We must not confuse the +recognition of the utility of history with any ideas of a +didactic aim. Two points more in Thucydides remain for our +consideration: his treatment of the rise of Greek civilisation, +and of the primitive condition of Hellas, as well as the question +how far can he be said really to have recognised the existence of +laws regulating the complex phenomena of life.</p> +<h3>III</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> investigation into the two +great problems of the origin of society and the philosophy of +history occupies such an important position in the evolution of +Greek thought that, to obtain any clear view of the workings of +the critical spirit, it will be necessary to trace at some length +their rise and scientific development as evinced not merely in +the works of historians proper, but also in the philosophical +treatises of Plato and Aristotle. The important position +which these two great thinkers occupy in the progress of +historical criticism can hardly be over-estimated. I do not +mean merely as regards their treatment of the Greek Bible, and +Plato’s endeavours to purge sacred history of its +immorality by the application of ethical canons at the time when +Aristotle was beginning to undermine the basis of miracles by his +scientific conception of law, but with reference to these two +wider questions of the rise of civil institutions and the +philosophy of history.</p> +<p>And first, as regards the current theories of the primitive +condition of society, there was a wide divergence of opinion in +Hellenic society, just as there is now. For while the +majority of the orthodox public, of whom Hesiod may be taken as +the representative, looked back, as a great many of our own day +still do, to a fabulous age of innocent happiness, a +<i>bell’ età dell’ auro</i>, where sin and +death were unknown and men and women were like Gods, the foremost +men of intellect such as Aristotle and Plato, Æschylus and +many of the other poets <a name="citation29"></a><a +href="#footnote29" class="citation">[29]</a> saw in primitive man +‘a few small sparks of humanity preserved on the tops of +mountains after some deluge,’ ‘without an idea of +cities, governments or legislation,’ ‘living the +lives of wild beasts in sunless caves,’ ‘their only +law being the survival of the fittest.’</p> +<p>And this, too, was the opinion of Thucydides, whose +<i>Archæologia</i> as it is contains a most valuable +disquisition on the early condition of Hellas, which it will be +necessary to examine at some length.</p> +<p>Now, as regards the means employed generally by Thucydides for +the elucidation of ancient history, I have already pointed out +how that, while acknowledging that ‘it is the tendency of +every poet to exaggerate, as it is of every chronicler to seek to +be attractive at the expense of truth,’ he yet assumes in +the thoroughly euhemeristic way, that under the veil of myth and +legend there does yet exist a rational basis of fact discoverable +by the method of rejecting all supernatural interference as well +as any extraordinary motives influencing the actors. It is +in complete accordance with this spirit that he appeals, for +instance, to the Homeric epithet of +<i>ἀφνειός</i>, as applied +to Corinth, as a proof of the early commercial prosperity of that +city; to the fact of the generic name <i>Hellenes</i> not +occurring in the <i>Iliad</i> as a corroboration of his theory of +the essentially disunited character of the primitive Greek +tribes; and he argues from the line ‘O’er many +islands and all Argos ruled,’ as applied to Agamemnon, that +his forces must have been partially naval, ‘for +Agamemnon’s was a continental power, and he could not have +been master of any but the adjacent islands, and these would not +be many but through the possession of a fleet.’</p> +<p>Anticipating in some measure the comparative method of +research, he argues from the fact of the more barbarous Greek +tribes, such as the Ætolians and Acarnanians, still +carrying arms in his own day, that this custom was the case +originally over the whole country. ‘The fact,’ +he says, ‘that the people in these parts of Hellas are +still living in the old way points to a time when the same mode +of life was equally common to all.’ Similarly, in +another passage, he shows how a corroboration of his theory of +the respectable character of piracy in ancient days is afforded +by ‘the honour with which some of the inhabitants of the +continent still regard a successful marauder,’ as well as +by the fact that the question, ‘Are you a pirate?’ is +a common feature of primitive society as shown in the poets; and +finally, after observing how the old Greek custom of wearing +belts in gymnastic contests still survived among the more +uncivilised Asiatic tribes, he observes that there are many other +points in which a likeness may be shown between the life of the +primitive Hellenes and that of the barbarians to-day.’</p> +<p>As regards the evidence afforded by ancient remains, while +adducing as a proof of the insecure character of early Greek +society the fact of their cities <a name="citation31"></a><a +href="#footnote31" class="citation">[31]</a> being always built +at some distance from the sea, yet he is careful to warn us, and +the caution ought to be borne in mind by all archæologists, +that we have no right to conclude from the scanty remains of any +city that its legendary greatness in primitive times was a mere +exaggeration. ‘We are not justified,’ he says, +‘in rejecting the tradition of the magnitude of the Trojan +armament, because Mycenæ and the other towns of that age +seem to us small and insignificant. For, if Lacedæmon +was to become desolate, any antiquarian judging merely from its +ruins would be inclined to regard the tale of the Spartan +hegemony as an idle myth; for the city is a mere collection of +villages after the old fashion of Hellas, and has none of those +splendid public buildings and temples which characterise Athens, +and whose remains, in the case of the latter city, would be so +marvellous as to lead the superficial observer into an +exaggerated estimate of the Athenian power.’ Nothing +can be more scientific than the archæological canons laid +down, whose truth is strikingly illustrated to any one who has +compared the waste fields of the Eurotas plain with the lordly +monuments of the Athenian acropolis. <a name="citation32"></a><a +href="#footnote32" class="citation">[32]</a></p> +<p>On the other hand, Thucydides is quite conscious of the value +of the positive evidence afforded by archæological +remains. He appeals, for instance, to the character of the +armour found in the Delian tombs and the peculiar mode of +sepulture, as corroboration of his theory of the predominance of +the Carian element among the primitive islanders, and to the +concentration of all the temples either in the Acropolis, or in +its immediate vicinity, to the name of +<i>ἄστυ</i> by which it was still known, +and to the extraordinary sanctity of the spring of water there, +as proof that the primitive city was originally confined to the +citadel, and the district immediately beneath it (ii. 16). +And lastly, in the very opening of his history, anticipating one +of the most scientific of modern methods, he points out how in +early states of civilisation immense fertility of the soil tends +to favour the personal aggrandisement of individuals, and so to +stop the normal progress of the country through ‘the rise +of factions, that endless source of ruin’; and also by the +allurements it offers to a foreign invader, to necessitate a +continual change of population, one immigration following on +another. He exemplifies his theory by pointing to the +endless political revolutions that characterised Arcadia, +Thessaly and Boeotia, the three richest spots in Greece, as well +as by the negative instance of the undisturbed state in primitive +time of Attica, which was always remarkable for the dryness and +poverty of its soil.</p> +<p>Now, while undoubtedly in these passages we may recognise the +first anticipation of many of the most modern principles of +research, we must remember how essentially limited is the range +of the <i>archæologia</i>, and how no theory at all is +offered on the wider questions of the general conditions of the +rise and progress of humanity, a problem which is first +scientifically discussed in the <i>Republic</i> of Plato.</p> +<p>And at the outset it must be premised that, while the study of +primitive man is an essentially inductive science, resting rather +on the accumulation of evidence than on speculation, among the +Greeks it was prosecuted rather on deductive principles. +Thucydides did, indeed, avail himself of the opportunities +afforded by the unequal development of civilisation in his own +day in Greece, and in the places I have pointed out seems to have +anticipated the comparative method. But we do not find +later writers availing themselves of the wonderfully accurate and +picturesque accounts given by Herodotus of the customs of savage +tribes. To take one instance, which bears a good deal on +modern questions, we find in the works of this great traveller +the gradual and progressive steps in the development of the +family life clearly manifested in the mere gregarious herding +together of the Agathyrsi, their primitive kinsmanship through +women in common, and the rise of a feeling of paternity from a +state of polyandry. This tribe stood at that time on that +borderland between umbilical relationship and the family which +has been such a difficult point for modern anthropologists to +find.</p> +<p>The ancient authors, however, are unanimous in insisting that +the family is the ultimate unit of society, though, as I have +said, an inductive study of primitive races, or even the accounts +given of them by Herodotus, would have shown them that the +<i>νεοττιὰ +ἴδια</i> of a personal household, to use +Plato’s expression, is really a most complex notion +appearing always in a late stage of civilisation, along with +recognition of private property and the rights of +individualism.</p> +<p>Philology also, which in the hands of modern investigators has +proved such a splendid instrument of research, was in ancient +days studied on principles too unscientific to be of much +use. Herodotus points out that the word <i>Eridanos</i> is +essentially Greek in character, that consequently the river +supposed to run round the world is probably a mere Greek +invention. His remarks, however, on language generally, as +in the case of <i>Piromis</i> and the ending of the Persian +names, show on what unsound basis his knowledge of language +rested.</p> +<p>In the <i>Bacchæ</i> of Euripides there is an extremely +interesting passage in which the immoral stories of the Greek +mythology are accounted for on the principle of that +misunderstanding of words and metaphors to which modern science +has given the name of a disease of language. In answer to +the impious rationalism of Pentheus—a sort of modern +Philistine—Teiresias, who may be termed the Max Müller +of the Theban cycle, points out that the story of Dionysus being +inclosed in Zeus’ thigh really arose from the linguistic +confusion between <i>μηρός</i> and +<i>ὅμηρος</i>.</p> +<p>On the whole, however—for I have quoted these two +instances only to show the unscientific character of early +philology—we may say that this important instrument in +recreating the history of the past was not really used by the +ancients as a means of historical criticism. Nor did the +ancients employ that other method, used to such advantage in our +own day, by which in the symbolism and formulas of an advanced +civilisation we can detect the unconscious survival of ancient +customs: for, whereas in the sham capture of the bride at a +marriage feast, which was common in Wales till a recent time, we +can discern the lingering reminiscence of the barbarous habit of +exogamy, the ancient writers saw only the deliberate +commemoration of an historical event.</p> +<p>Aristotle does not tell us by what method he discovered that +the Greeks used to buy their wives in primitive times, but, +judging by his general principles, it was probably through some +legend or myth on the subject which lasted to his own day, and +not, as we would do, by arguing back from the marriage presents +given to the bride and her relatives. <a name="citation37"></a><a +href="#footnote37" class="citation">[37]</a></p> +<p>The origin of the common proverb ‘worth so many +beeves,’ in which we discern the unconscious survival of a +purely pastoral state of society before the use of metals was +known, is ascribed by Plutarch to the fact of Theseus having +coined money bearing a bull’s head. Similarly, the +Amathusian festival, in which a young man imitated the labours of +a woman in travail, is regarded by him as a rite instituted in +Ariadne’s honour, and the Carian adoration of asparagus as +a simple commemoration of the adventure of the nymph +Perigune. In the first of these <i>we</i> discern the +beginning of agnation and kinsmanship through the father, which +still lingers in the ‘couvee’ of New Zealand tribes: +while the second is a relic of the totem and fetish worship of +plants.</p> +<p>Now, in entire opposition to this modern inductive principle +of research stands the philosophic Plato, whose account of +primitive man is entirely speculative and deductive.</p> +<p>The origin of society he ascribes to necessity, the mother of +all inventions, and imagines that individual man began +deliberately to herd together on account of the advantages of the +principle of division of labour and the rendering of mutual +need.</p> +<p>It must, however, be borne in mind that Plato’s object +in this whole passage in the <i>Republic</i> was, perhaps, not so +much to analyse the conditions of early society as to illustrate +the importance of the division of labour, the shibboleth of his +political economy, by showing what a powerful factor it must have +been in the most primitive as well as in the most complex states +of society; just as in the <i>Laws</i> he almost rewrites +entirely the history of the Peloponnesus in order to prove the +necessity of a balance of power. He surely, I mean, must +have recognised himself how essentially incomplete his theory was +in taking no account of the origin of family life, the position +and influence of women, and other social questions, as well as in +disregarding those deeper motives of religion, which are such +important factors in early civilisation, and whose influence +Aristotle seems to have clearly apprehended, when he says that +the aim of primitive society was not merely life but the higher +life, and that in the origin of society utility is not the sole +motive, but that there is something spiritual in it if, at least, +‘spiritual’ will bring out the meaning of that +complex expression <i>τὸ +καλόν</i>. Otherwise, the whole +account in the <i>Republic</i> of primitive man will always +remain as a warning against the intrusion of <i>a priori</i> +speculations in the domain appropriate to induction.</p> +<p>Now, Aristotle’s theory of the origin of society, like +his philosophy of ethics, rests ultimately on the principle of +final causes, not in the theological meaning of an aim or +tendency imposed from without, but in the scientific sense of +function corresponding to organ. ‘Nature maketh no +thing in vain’ is the text of Aristotle in this as in other +inquiries. Man being the only animal possessed of the power +of rational speech is, he asserts, by nature intended to be +social, more so than the bee or any other gregarious animal.</p> +<p>He is <i>φύσει +πολιτικός</i>, +and the national tendency towards higher forms of perfection +brings the ‘armed savage who used to sell his wife’ +to the free independence of a free state, and to the +<i>ἰσότης τοῦ +ἄρχειν καὶ +τοῦ +ἄρχεσθαι</i>, which +was the test of true citizenship. The stages passed through +by humanity start with the family first as the ultimate unit.</p> +<p>The conglomeration of families forms a village ruled by that +patriarchal sway which is the oldest form of government in the +world, as is shown by the fact that all men count it to be the +constitution of heaven, and the villages are merged into the +state, and here the progression stops.</p> +<p>For Aristotle, like all Greek thinkers, found his ideal within +the walls of the <i>πόλις</i>, yet +perhaps in his remark that a united Greece would rule the world +we may discern some anticipation of that ‘federal union of +free states into one consolidated empire’ which, more than +the <i>πόλις</i>, is to our eyes the +ultimately perfect polity.</p> +<p>How far Aristotle was justified in regarding the family as the +ultimate unit, with the materials afforded to him by Greek +literature, I have already noticed. Besides, Aristotle, I +may remark, had he reflected on the meaning of that Athenian law +which, while prohibiting marriage with a uterine sister, +permitted it with a sister-german, or on the common tradition in +Athens that before the time of Cecrops children bore their +mothers’ names, or on some of the Spartan regulations, +could hardly have failed to see the universality of kinsmanship +through women in early days, and the late appearance of +monandry. Yet, while he missed this point, in common, it +must be acknowledged, with many modern writers, such as Sir Henry +Maine, it is essentially as an explorer of inductive instances +that we recognise his improvement on Plato. The treatise +<i>περὶ +πολιτείων</i>, +did it remain to us in its entirety, would have been one of the +most valuable landmarks in the progress of historical criticism, +and the first scientific treatise on the science of comparative +politics.</p> +<p>A few fragments still remain to us, in one of which we find +Aristotle appealing to the authority of an ancient inscription on +the ‘Disk of Iphitus,’ one of the most celebrated +Greek antiquities, to corroborate his theory of the Lycurgean +revival of the Olympian festival; while his enormous research is +evinced in the elaborate explanation he gives of the historical +origin of proverbs such as +<i>οὐδεῖς +μέγας +κακὸς +ἰχθῦς</i>, of religious songs like +the <i>ἰῶμεν ἐς +Ἀθήνας</i> of the Botticean +virgins, or the praises of love and war.</p> +<p>And, finally, it is to be observed how much wider than +Plato’s his theory of the origin of society is. They +both rest on a psychological basis, but Aristotle’s +recognition of the capacity for progress and the tendency towards +a higher life shows how much deeper his knowledge of human nature +was.</p> +<p>In imitation of these two philosophers, Polybius gives an +account of the origin of society in the opening to his philosophy +of history. Somewhat in the spirit of Plato, he imagines +that after one of the cyclic deluges which sweep off mankind at +stated periods and annihilate all pre-existing civilisation, the +few surviving members of humanity coalesce for mutual protection, +and, as in the case with ordinary animals, the one most +remarkable for physical strength is elected king. In a +short time, owing to the workings of sympathy and the desire of +approbation, the moral qualities begin to make their appearance, +and intellectual instead of bodily excellence becomes the +qualification for sovereignty.</p> +<p>Other points, as the rise of law and the like, are dwelt on in +a somewhat modern spirit, and although Polybius seems not to have +employed the inductive method of research in this question, or +rather, I should say, of the hierarchical order of the rational +progress of ideas in life, he is not far removed from what the +laborious investigations of modern travellers have given us.</p> +<p>And, indeed, as regards the working of the speculative faculty +in the creation of history, it is in all respects marvellous how +that the most truthful accounts of the passage from barbarism to +civilisation in ancient literature come from the works of +poets. The elaborate researches of Mr. Tylor and Sir John +Lubbock have done little more than verify the theories put +forward in the <i>Prometheus Bound</i> and the <i>De Natura +Rerum</i>; yet neither Æschylus nor Lucretias followed in +the modern path, but rather attained to truth by a certain almost +mystic power of creative imagination, such as we now seek to +banish from science as a dangerous power, though to it science +seems to owe many of its most splendid generalities. <a +name="citation43"></a><a href="#footnote43" +class="citation">[43]</a></p> +<p>Leaving then the question of the origin of society as treated +by the ancients, I shall now turn to the other and the more +important question of how far they may he said to have attained +to what we call the philosophy of history.</p> +<p>Now at the outset we must note that, while the conceptions of +law and order have been universally received as the governing +principles of the phenomena of nature in the sphere of physical +science, yet their intrusion into the domain of history and the +life of man has always been met with a strong opposition, on the +ground of the incalculable nature of two great forces acting on +human action, a certain causeless spontaneity which men call free +will, and the extra-natural interference which they attribute as +a constant attribute to God.</p> +<p>Now, that there is a science of the apparently variable +phenomena of history is a conception which <i>we</i> have perhaps +only recently begun to appreciate; yet, like all other great +thoughts, it seems to have come to the Greek mind spontaneously, +through a certain splendour of imagination, in the morning tide +of their civilisation, before inductive research had armed them +with the instruments of verification. For I think it is +possible to discern in some of the mystic speculations of the +early Greek thinkers that desire to discover what is that +‘invariable existence of which there are variable +states,’ and to incorporate it in some one formula of law +which may serve to explain the different manifestations of all +organic bodies, <i>man included</i>, which is the germ of the +philosophy of history; the germ indeed of an idea of which it is +not too much to say that on it any kind of historical criticism, +worthy of the name, must ultimately rest.</p> +<p>For the very first requisite for any scientific conception of +history is the doctrine of uniform sequence: in other words, that +certain events having happened, certain other events +corresponding to them will happen also; that the past is the key +of the future.</p> +<p>Now at the birth of this great conception science, it is true, +presided, yet religion it was which at the outset clothed it in +its own garb, and familiarised men with it by appealing to their +hearts first and then to their intellects; knowing that at the +beginning of things it is through the moral nature, and not +through the intellectual, that great truths are spread.</p> +<p>So in Herodotus, who may be taken as a representative of the +orthodox tone of thought, the idea of the uniform sequence of +cause and effect appears under the theological aspect of Nemesis +and Providence, which is really the scientific conception of law, +only it is viewed from an <i>ethical</i> standpoint.</p> +<p>Now in Thucydides the philosophy of history rests on the +probability, which the uniformity of human nature affords us, +that the future will in the course of human things resemble the +past, if not reproduce it. He appears to contemplate a +recurrence of the phenomena of history as equally certain with a +return of the epidemic of the Great Plague.</p> +<p>Notwithstanding what German critics have written on the +subject, we must beware of regarding this conception as a mere +reproduction of that cyclic theory of events which sees in the +world nothing but the regular rotation of Strophe and +Antistrophe, in the eternal choir of life and death.</p> +<p>For, in his remarks on the excesses of the Corcyrean +Revolution, Thucydides distinctly rests his idea of the +recurrence of history on the psychological grounds of the general +sameness of mankind.</p> +<p>‘The sufferings,’ he says, ‘which revolution +entailed upon the cities were many and terrible, such as have +occurred and always will occurs as long as human nature remains +the same, though in a severer or milder form, and varying in +their symptoms according to the variety of the particular +cases.</p> +<p>‘In peace and prosperity states and individuals have +better sentiments, because they are not confronted with imperious +necessities; but war takes away the easy supply of men’s +wants, and so proves a hard taskmaster, which brings most +men’s characters to a level with their fortunes.’</p> +<h3>IV</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is evident that here Thucydides +is ready to admit the variety of manifestations which external +causes bring about in their workings on the uniform character of +the nature of man. Yet, after all is said, these are +perhaps but very general statements: the ordinary effects of +peace and war are dwelt on, but there is no real analysis of the +immediate causes and general laws of the phenomena of life, nor +does Thucydides seem to recognise the truth that if humanity +proceeds in circles, the circles are always widening.</p> +<p>Perhaps we may say that with him the philosophy of history is +partly in the metaphysical stage, and see, in the progress of +this idea from Herodotus to Polybius, the exemplification of the +Comtian Law of the three stages of thought, the theological, the +metaphysical, and the scientific: for truly out of the vagueness +of theological mysticism this conception which we call the +Philosophy of History was raised to a scientific principle, +according to which the past was explained and the future +predicted by reference to general laws.</p> +<p>Now, just as the earliest account of the nature of the +progress of humanity is to be found in Plato, so in him we find +the first explicit attempt to found a universal philosophy of +history upon wide rational grounds. Having created an +ideally perfect state, the philosopher proceeds to give an +elaborate theory of the complex causes which produce revolutions, +of the moral effects of various forms of government and +education, of the rise of the criminal classes and their +connection with pauperism, and, in a word, to create history by +the deductive method and to proceed from <i>a priori</i> +psychological principles to discover the governing laws of the +apparent chaos of political life.</p> +<p>There have been many attempts since Plato to deduce from a +single philosophical principle all the phenomena which experience +subsequently verifies for us. Fichte thought he could +predict the world-plan from the idea of universal time. +Hegel dreamed he had found the key to the mysteries of life in +the development of freedom, and Krause in the categories of +being. But the one scientific basis on which the true +philosophy of history must rest is the complete knowledge of the +laws of human nature in all its wants, its aspirations, its +powers and its tendencies: and this great truth, which Thucydides +may be said in some measure to have apprehended, was given to us +first by Plato.</p> +<p>Now, it cannot be accurately said of this philosopher that +either his philosophy or his history is entirely and simply <i>a +priori</i>. <i>On est de son siècle même quand +on y proteste</i>, and so we find in him continual references to +the Spartan mode of life, the Pythagorean system, the general +characteristics of Greek tyrannies and Greek democracies. +For while, in his account of the method of forming an ideal +state, he says that the political artist is indeed to fix his +gaze on the sun of abstract truth in the heavens of the pure +reason, but is sometimes to turn to the realisation of the ideals +on earth: yet, after all, the general character of the Platonic +method, which is what we are specially concerned with, is +essentially deductive and <i>a priori</i>. And he himself, +in the building up of his Nephelococcygia, certainly starts with +a <i>καθαρὸς +πίναξ</i>, making a clean sweep of all +history and all experience; and it was essentially as an <i>a +priori</i> theorist that he is criticised by Aristotle, as we +shall see later.</p> +<p>To proceed to closer details regarding the actual scheme of +the laws of political revolutions as drawn out by Plato, we must +first note that the primary cause of the decay of the ideal state +is the general principle, common to the vegetable and animal +worlds as well as to the world of history, that all created +things are fated to decay—a principle which, though +expressed in the terms of a mere metaphysical abstraction, is yet +perhaps in its essence scientific. For we too must hold +that a continuous redistribution of matter and motion is the +inevitable result of the nominal persistence of Force, and that +perfect equilibrium is as impossible in politics as it certainly +is in physics.</p> +<p>The secondary causes which mar the perfection of the Platonic +‘city of the sun’ are to be found in the intellectual +decay of the race consequent on injudicious marriages and in the +Philistine elevation of physical achievements over mental +culture; while the hierarchical succession of Timocracy and +Oligarchy, Democracy and Tyranny, is dwelt on at great length and +its causes analysed in a very dramatic and psychological manner, +if not in that sanctioned by the actual order of history.</p> +<p>And indeed it is apparent at first sight that the Platonic +succession of states represents rather the succession of ideas in +the philosophic mind than any historical succession of time.</p> +<p>Aristotle meets the whole simply by an appeal to facts. +If the theory of the periodic decay of all created things, he +urges, be scientific, it must be universal, and so true of all +the other states as well as of the ideal. Besides, a state +usually changes into its contrary and not to the form next to it; +so the ideal state would not change into Timocracy; while +Oligarchy, more often than Tyranny, succeeds Democracy. +Plato, besides, says nothing of what a Tyranny would change +to. According to the cycle theory it ought to pass into the +ideal state again, but as a fact one Tyranny is changed into +another as at Sicyon, or into a Democracy as at Syracuse, or into +an Aristocracy as at Carthage. The example of Sicily, too, +shows that an Oligarchy is often followed by a Tyranny, as at +Leontini and Gela. Besides, it is absurd to represent greed +as the chief motive of decay, or to talk of avarice as the root +of Oligarchy, when in nearly all true oligarchies money-making is +forbidden by law. And finally the Platonic theory neglects +the different kinds of democracies and of tyrannies.</p> +<p>Now nothing can be more important than this passage in +Aristotle’s <i>Politics</i> (<i>v.</i> 12.), which may he +said to mark an era in the evolution of historical +criticism. For there is nothing on which Aristotle insists +so strongly as that the generalisations from facts ought to be +added to the data of the <i>a priori</i> method—a principle +which we know to be true not merely of deductive speculative +politics but of physics also: for are not the residual phenomena +of chemists a valuable source of improvement in theory?</p> +<p>His own method is essentially historical though by no means +empirical. On the contrary, this far-seeing thinker, +rightly styled <i>il maestro di color che sanno</i>, may be said +to have apprehended clearly that the true method is neither +exclusively empirical nor exclusively speculative, but rather a +union of both in the process called Analysis or the +Interpretation of Facts, which has been defined as the +application to facts of such general conceptions as may fix the +important characteristics of the phenomena, and present them +permanently in their true relations. He too was the first +to point out, what even in our own day is incompletely +appreciated, that nature, including the development of man, is +not full of incoherent episodes like a bad tragedy, that +inconsistency and anomaly are as impossible in the moral as they +are in the physical world, and that where the superficial +observer thinks he sees a revolution the philosophical critic +discerns merely the gradual and rational evolution of the +inevitable results of certain antecedents.</p> +<p>And while admitting the necessity of a psychological basis for +the philosophy of history, he added to it the important truth +that man, to be apprehended in his proper position in the +universe as well as in his natural powers, must be studied from +below in the hierarchical progression of higher function from the +lower forms of life. The important maxim, that to obtain a +clear conception of anything we must ‘study it in its +growth from the very beginning,’ is formally set down in +the opening of the <i>Politics</i>, where, indeed, we shall find +the other characteristic features of the modern Evolutionary +theory, such as the ‘Differentiation of Function’ and +the ‘Survival of the Fittest’ explicitly set +forth.</p> +<p>What a valuable step this was in the improvement of the method +of historical criticism it is needless to point out. By it, +one may say, the true thread was given to guide one’s steps +through the bewildering labyrinth of facts. For history (to +use terms with which Aristotle has made us familiar) may be +looked at from two essentially different standpoints; either as a +work of art whose <i>τέλος</i> or +final cause is external to it and imposed on it from without; or +as an organism containing the law of its own development in +itself, and working out its perfection merely by the fact of +being what it is. Now, if we adopt the former, which we may +style the theological view, we shall be in continual danger of +tripping into the pitfall of some <i>a priori</i> +conclusion—that bourne from which, it has been truly said, +no traveller ever returns.</p> +<p>The latter is the only scientific theory and was apprehended +in its fulness by Aristotle, whose application of the inductive +method to history, and whose employment of the evolutionary +theory of humanity, show that he was conscious that the +philosophy of history is nothing separate from the facts of +history but is contained in them, and that the rational law of +the complex phenomena of life, like the ideal in the world of +thought, is to be reached through the facts, not superimposed on +them—<i>κατὰ +πολλῶν</i> not +<i>παρὰ +πολλά</i>.</p> +<p>And finally, in estimating the enormous debt which the science +of historical criticism owes to Aristotle, we must not pass over +his attitude towards those two great difficulties in the +formation of a philosophy of history on which I have touched +above. I mean the assertion of extra-natural interference +with the normal development of the world and of the incalculable +influence exercised by the power of free will.</p> +<p>Now, as regards the former, he may be said to have neglected +it entirely. The special acts of providence proceeding from +God’s immediate government of the world, which Herodotus +saw as mighty landmarks in history, would have been to him +essentially disturbing elements in that universal reign of law, +the extent of whose limitless empire he of all the great thinkers +of antiquity was the first explicitly to recognise.</p> +<p>Standing aloof from the popular religion as well as from the +deeper conceptions of Herodotus and the Tragic School, he no +longer thought of God as of one with fair limbs and treacherous +face haunting wood and glade, nor would he see in him a jealous +judge continually interfering in the world’s history to +bring the wicked to punishment and the proud to a fall. God +to him was the incarnation of the pure Intellect, a being whose +activity was the contemplation of his own perfection, one whom +Philosophy might imitate but whom prayers could never move, to +the sublime indifference of whose passionless wisdom what were +the sons of men, their desires or their sins? While, as +regards the other difficulty and the formation of a philosophy of +history, the conflict of free will with general laws appears +first in Greek thought in the usual theological form in which all +great ideas seem to be cradled at their birth.</p> +<p>It was such legends as those of Œdipus and Adrastus, +exemplifying the struggles of individual humanity against the +overpowering force of circumstances and necessity, which gave to +the early Greeks those same lessons which we of modern days draw, +in somewhat less artistic fashion, from the study of statistics +and the laws of physiology.</p> +<p>In Aristotle, of course, there is no trace of supernatural +influence. The Furies, which drive their victim into sin +first and then punishment, are no longer ‘viper-tressed +goddesses with eyes and mouth aflame,’ but those evil +thoughts which harbour within the impure soul. In this, as +in all other points, to arrive at Aristotle is to reach the pure +atmosphere of scientific and modern thought.</p> +<p>But while he rejected pure necessitarianism in its crude form +as essentially a <i>reductio ad absurdum</i> of life, he was +fully conscious of the fact that the will is not a mysterious and +ultimate unit of force beyond which we cannot go and whose +special characteristic is inconsistency, but a certain creative +attitude of the mind which is, from the first, continually +influenced by habits, education and circumstance; so absolutely +modifiable, in a word, that the good and the bad man alike seem +to lose the power of free will; for the one is morally unable to +sin, the other physically incapacitated for reformation.</p> +<p>And of the influence of climate and temperature in forming the +nature of man (a conception perhaps pressed too far in modern +days when the ‘race theory’ is supposed to be a +sufficient explanation of the Hindoo, and the latitude and +longitude of a country the best guide to its morals <a +name="citation57"></a><a href="#footnote57" +class="citation">[57]</a>) Aristotle is completely unaware. +I do not allude to such smaller points as the oligarchical +tendencies of a horse-breeding country and the democratic +influence of the proximity of the sea (important though they are +for the consideration of Greek history), but rather to those +wider views in the seventh book of his <i>Politics</i>, where he +attributes the happy union in the Greek character of intellectual +attainments with the spirit of progress to the temperate climate +they enjoyed, and points out how the extreme cold of the north +dulls the mental faculties of its inhabitants and renders them +incapable of social organisation or extended empire; while to the +enervating heat of eastern countries was due that want of spirit +and bravery which then, as now, was the characteristic of the +population in that quarter of the globe.</p> +<p>Thucydides has shown the causal connection between political +revolutions and the fertility of the soil, but goes a step +farther and points out the psychological influences on a +people’s character exercised by the various extremes of +climate—in both cases the first appearance of a most +valuable form of historical criticism.</p> +<p>To the development of Dialectic, as to God, intervals of time +are of no account. From Plato and Aristotle we pass direct +to Polybius.</p> +<p>The progress of thought from the philosopher of the Academe to +the Arcadian historian may be best illustrated by a comparison of +the method by which each of the three writers, whom I have +selected as the highest expression of the rationalism of his +respective age, attained to his ideal state: for the latter +conception may be in a measure regarded as representing the most +spiritual principle which they could discern in history.</p> +<p>Now, Plato created his on <i>a priori</i> principles; +Aristotle formed his by an analysis of existing constitutions; +Polybius found his realised for him in the actual world of +fact. Aristotle criticised the deductive speculations of +Plato by means of inductive negative instances, but Polybius will +not take the ‘Cloud City’ of the <i>Republic</i> into +account at all. He compares it to an athlete who has never +run on ‘Constitution Hill,’ to a statue so beautiful +that it is entirely removed from the ordinary conditions of +humanity, and consequently from the canons of criticism.</p> +<p>The Roman state had attained in his eyes, by means of the +mutual counteraction of three opposing forces, <a +name="citation59"></a><a href="#footnote59" +class="citation">[59]</a> that stable equilibrium in politics +which was the ideal of all the theoretical writers of +antiquity. And in connection with this point it will be +convenient to notice here how much truth there is contained in +the accusation often brought against the ancients that they knew +nothing of the idea of Progress, for the meaning of many of their +speculations will be hidden from us if we do not try and +comprehend first what their aim was, and secondly why it was +so.</p> +<p>Now, like all wide generalities, this statement is at least +inaccurate. The prayer of Plato’s ideal +City—<i>ἐξ ἀγαθῶν +ἀμείνους</i>, +<i>καὶ ἐξ +ὠφελιμῶν +ὠφελιμωτέρους +ἀεὶ τοὺς +ἐκγόνους +γίγνεσθαι</i>, +might be written as a text over the door of the last Temple to +Humanity raised by the disciples of Fourier and Saint-Simon, but +it is certainly true that their ideal principle was order and +permanence, not indefinite progress. For, setting aside the +artistic prejudices which would have led the Greeks to reject +this idea of unlimited improvement, we may note that the modern +conception of progress rests partly on the new enthusiasm and +worship of humanity, partly on the splendid hopes of material +improvements in civilisation which applied science has held out +to us, two influences from which ancient Greek thought seems to +have been strangely free. For the Greeks marred the perfect +humanism of the great men whom they worshipped, by imputing to +them divinity and its supernatural powers; while their science +was eminently speculative and often almost mystic in its +character, aiming at culture and not utility, at higher +spirituality and more intense reverence for law, rather than at +the increased facilities of locomotion and the cheap production +of common things about which our modern scientific school ceases +not to boast. And lastly, and perhaps chiefly, we must +remember that the ‘plague spot of all Greek states,’ +as one of their own writers has called it, was the terrible +insecurity to life and property which resulted from the factions +and revolutions which ceased not to trouble Greece at all times, +raising a spirit of fanaticism such as religion raised in the +middle ages of Europe.</p> +<p>These considerations, then, will enable us to understand first +how it was that, radical and unscrupulous reformers as the Greek +political theorists were, yet, their end once attained, no modern +conservatives raised such outcry against the slightest +innovation. Even acknowledged improvements in such things +as the games of children or the modes of music were regarded by +them with feelings of extreme apprehension as the herald of the +<i>drapeau rouge</i> of reform. And secondly, it will show +us how it was that Polybius found his ideal in the commonwealth +of Rome, and Aristotle, like Mr. Bright, in the middle +classes. Polybius, however, is not content merely with +pointing out his ideal state, but enters at considerable length +into the question of those general laws whose consideration forms +the chief essential of the philosophy of history.</p> +<p>He starts by accepting the general principle that all things +are fated to decay (which I noticed in the case of Plato), and +that ‘as iron produces rust and as wood breeds the animals +that destroy it, so every state has in it the seeds of its own +corruption.’ He is not, however, content to rest +there, but proceeds to deal with the more immediate causes of +revolutions, which he says are twofold in nature, either external +or internal. Now, the former, depending as they do on the +synchronous conjunction of other events outside the sphere of +scientific estimation, are from their very character +incalculable; but the latter, though assuming many forms, always +result from the over-great preponderance of any single element to +the detriment of the others, the rational law lying at the base +of all varieties of political changes being that stability can +result only from the statical equilibrium produced by the +counteraction of opposing parts, since the more simple a +constitution is the more it is insecure. Plato had pointed +out before how the extreme liberty of a democracy always resulted +in despotism, but Polybius analyses the law and shows the +scientific principles on which it rests.</p> +<p>The doctrine of the instability of pure constitutions forms an +important era in the philosophy of history. Its special +applicability to the politics of our own day has been illustrated +in the rise of the great Napoleon, when the French state had lost +those divisions of caste and prejudice, of landed aristocracy and +moneyed interest, institutions in which the vulgar see only +barriers to Liberty but which are indeed the only possible +defences against the coming of that periodic Sirius of politics, +the <i>τύραννος +ἐκ +προστατικῆς +ῥίζης</i>.</p> +<p>There is a principle which Tocqueville never wearies of +explaining, and which has been subsumed by Mr. Herbert Spencer +under that general law common to all organic bodies which we call +the Instability of the Homogeneous. The various +manifestations of this law, as shown in the normal, regular +revolutions and evolutions of the different forms of government, +<a name="citation63a"></a><a href="#footnote63a" +class="citation">[63a]</a> are expounded with great clearness by +Polybius, who claimed for his theory, in the Thucydidean spirit, +that it is a <i>κτῆμα ἐς +ἀεί</i>, not a mere +<i>ἀγώνισμα +ἐς τὸ +παραχρῆμα</i>, and that +a knowledge of it will enable the impartial observer <a +name="citation63b"></a><a href="#footnote63b" +class="citation">[63b]</a> to discover at any time what period of +its constitutional evolution any particular state has already +reached and into what form it will be next differentiated, though +possibly the exact time of the changes may be more or less +uncertain. <a name="citation63c"></a><a href="#footnote63c" +class="citation">[63c]</a></p> +<p>Now in this necessarily incomplete account of the laws of +political revolutions as expounded by Polybius enough perhaps has +been said to show what is his true position in the rational +development of the ‘Idea’ which I have called the +Philosophy of History, because it is the unifying of +history. Seen darkly as it is through the glass of religion +in the pages of Herodotus, more metaphysical than scientific with +Thucydides, Plato strove to seize it by the eagle-flight of +speculation, to reach it with the eager grasp of a soul impatient +of those slower and surer inductive methods which Aristotle, in +his trenchant criticism of his greater master, showed were more +brilliant than any vague theory, if the test of brilliancy is +truth.</p> +<p>What then is the position of Polybius? Does any new +method remain for him? Polybius was one of those many men +who are born too late to be original. To Thucydides belongs +the honour of being the first in the history of Greek thought to +discern the supreme calm of law and order underlying the fitful +storms of life, and Plato and Aristotle each represents a great +new principle. To Polybius belongs the office—how +noble an office he made it his writings show—of making more +explicit the ideas which were implicit in his predecessors, of +showing that they were of wider applicability and perhaps of +deeper meaning than they had seemed before, of examining with +more minuteness the laws which they had discovered, and finally +of pointing out more clearly than any one had done the range of +science and the means it offered for analysing the present and +predicting what was to come. His office thus was to gather +up what they had left, to give their principles new life by a +wider application.</p> +<p>Polybius ends this great diapason of Greek thought. When +the Philosophy of history appears next, as in Plutarch’s +tract on ‘Why God’s anger is delayed,’ the +pendulum of thought had swung back to where it began. His +theory was introduced to the Romans under the cultured style of +Cicero, and was welcomed by them as the philosophical panegyric +of their state. The last notice of it in Latin literature +is in the pages of Tacitus, who alludes to the stable polity +formed out of these elements as a constitution easier to commend +than to produce and in no case lasting. Yet Polybius had +seen the future with no uncertain eye, and had prophesied the +rise of the Empire from the unbalanced power of the ochlocracy +fifty years and more before there was joy in the Julian household +over the birth of that boy who, born to power as the champion of +the people, died wearing the purple of a king.</p> +<p>No attitude of historical criticism is more important than the +means by which the ancients attained to the philosophy of +history. The principle of heredity can be exemplified in +literature as well as in organic life: Aristotle, Plato and +Polybius are the lineal ancestors of Fichte and Hegel, of Vico +and Cousin, of Montesquieu and Tocqueville.</p> +<p>As my aim is not to give an account of historians but to point +out those great thinkers whose methods have furthered the advance +of this spirit of historical criticism, I shall pass over those +annalists and chroniclers who intervened between Thucydides and +Polybius. Yet perhaps it may serve to throw new light on +the real nature of this spirit and its intimate connection with +all other forms of advanced thought if I give some estimate of +the character and rise of those many influences prejudicial to +the scientific study of history which cause such a wide gap +between these two historians.</p> +<p>Foremost among these is the growing influence of rhetoric and +the Isocratean school, which seems to have regarded history as an +arena for the display either of pathos or paradoxes, not a +scientific investigation into laws.</p> +<p>The new age is the age of style. The same spirit of +exclusive attention to form which made Euripides often, like +Swinburne, prefer music to meaning and melody to morality, which +gave to the later Greek statues that refined effeminacy, that +overstrained gracefulness of attitude, was felt in the sphere of +history. The rules laid down for historical composition are +those relating to the æsthetic value of digressions, the +legality of employing more than one metaphor in the same +sentence, and the like; and historians are ranked not by their +power of estimating evidence but by the goodness of the Greek +they write.</p> +<p>I must note also the important influence on literature +exercised by Alexander the Great; for while his travels +encouraged the more accurate research of geography, the very +splendour of his achievements seems to have brought history again +into the sphere of romance. The appearance of all great men +in the world is followed invariably by the rise of that +mythopœic spirit and that tendency to look for the +marvellous, which is so fatal to true historical criticism. +An Alexander, a Napoleon, a Francis of Assisi and a Mahomet are +thought to be outside the limiting conditions of rational law, +just as comets were supposed to be not very long ago. While +the founding of that city of Alexandria, in which Western and +Eastern thought met with such strange result to both, diverted +the critical tendencies of the Greek spirit into questions of +grammar, philology and the like, the narrow, artificial +atmosphere of that University town (as we may call it) was fatal +to the development of that independent and speculative spirit of +research which strikes out new methods of inquiry, of which +historical criticism is one.</p> +<p>The Alexandrines combined a great love of learning with an +ignorance of the true principles of research, an enthusiastic +spirit for accumulating materials with a wonderful incapacity to +use them. Not among the hot sands of Egypt, or the Sophists +of Athens, but from the very heart of Greece rises the man of +genius on whose influence in the evolution of the philosophy of +history I have a short time ago dwelt. Born in the serene +and pure air of the clear uplands of Arcadia, Polybius may be +said to reproduce in his work the character of the place which +gave him birth. For, of all the historians—I do not +say of antiquity but of all time—none is more rationalistic +than he, none more free from any belief in the ‘visions and +omens, the monstrous legends, the grovelling superstitions and +unmanly craving for the supernatural’ +(<i>δεισιδαιμονίας +ἀγεννοῦς +καὶ +τερατείας +γυναικώδους</i> +<a name="citation68"></a><a href="#footnote68" +class="citation">[68]</a>) which he himself is compelled to +notice as the characteristics of some of the historians who +preceded him. Fortunate in the land which bore him, he was +no less blessed in the wondrous time of his birth. For, +representing in himself the spiritual supremacy of the Greek +intellect and allied in bonds of chivalrous friendship to the +world-conqueror of his day, he seems led as it were by the hand +of Fate ‘to comprehend,’ as has been said, +‘more clearly than the Romans themselves the historical +position of Rome,’ and to discern with greater insight than +all other men could those two great resultants of ancient +civilisation, the material empire of the city of the seven hills, +and the intellectual sovereignty of Hellas.</p> +<p>Before his own day, he says, <a name="citation69a"></a><a +href="#footnote69a" class="citation">[69a]</a> the events of the +world were unconnected and separate and the histories confined to +particular countries. Now, for the first time the universal +empire of the Romans rendered a universal history possible. <a +name="citation69b"></a><a href="#footnote69b" +class="citation">[69b]</a> This, then, is the august motive +of his work: to trace the gradual rise of this Italian city from +the day when the first legion crossed the narrow strait of +Messina and landed on the fertile fields of Sicily to the time +when Corinth in the East and Carthage in the West fell before the +resistless wave of empire and the eagles of Rome passed on the +wings of universal victory from Calpe and the Pillars of Hercules +to Syria and the Nile. At the same time he recognised that +the scheme of Rome’s empire was worked out under the +ægis of God’s will. <a name="citation69c"></a><a +href="#footnote69c" class="citation">[69c]</a> For, as one +of the Middle Age scribes most truly says, the +<i>τύχη</i> of Polybius is that power which we +Christians call God; the second aim, as one may call it, of his +history is to point out the rational and human and natural causes +which brought this result, distinguishing, as we should say, +between God’s mediate and immediate government of the +world.</p> +<p>With any direct intervention of God in the normal development +of Man, he will have nothing to do: still less with any idea of +chance as a factor in the phenomena of life. Chance and +miracles, he says, are mere expressions for our ignorance of +rational causes. The spirit of rationalism which we +recognised in Herodotus as a vague uncertain attitude and which +appears in Thucydides as a consistent attitude of mind never +argued about or even explained, is by Polybius analysed and +formulated as the great instrument of historical research.</p> +<p>Herodotus, while believing on principle in the supernatural, +yet was sceptical at times. Thucydides simply ignored the +supernatural. He did not discuss it, but he annihilated it +by explaining history without it. Polybius enters at length +into the whole question and explains its origin and the method of +treating it. Herodotus would have believed in +Scipio’s dream. Thucydides would have ignored it +entirely. Polybius explains it. He is the culmination +of the rational progression of Dialectic. +‘Nothing,’ he says, ‘shows a foolish mind more +than the attempt to account for any phenomena on the principle of +chance or supernatural intervention. History is a search +for rational causes, and there is nothing in the world—even +those phenomena which seem to us the most remote from law and +improbable—which is not the logical and inevitable result +of certain rational antecedents.’</p> +<p>Some things, of course, are to be rejected <i>a priori</i> +without entering into the subject: ‘As regards such +miracles,’ he says, <a name="citation71"></a><a +href="#footnote71" class="citation">[71]</a> ‘as that on a +certain statue of Artemis rain or snow never falls though the +statue stands in the open air, or that those who enter +God’s shrine in Arcadia lose their natural shadows, I +cannot really be expected to argue upon the subject. For +these things are not only utterly improbable but absolutely +impossible.’</p> +<p>‘For us to argue reasonably on an acknowledged absurdity +is as vain a task as trying to catch water in a sieve; it is +really to admit the possibility of the supernatural, which is the +very point at issue.’</p> +<p>What Polybius felt was that to admit the possibility of a +miracle is to annihilate the possibility of history: for just as +scientific and chemical experiments would be either impossible or +useless if exposed to the chance of continued interference on the +part of some foreign body, so the laws and principles which +govern history, the causes of phenomena, the evolution of +progress, the whole science, in a word, of man’s dealings +with his own race and with nature, will remain a sealed book to +him who admits the possibility of extra-natural interference.</p> +<p>The stories of miracles, then, are to be rejected on <i>a +priori</i> rational grounds, but in the case of events which we +know to have happened the scientific historian will not rest till +he has discovered their natural causes which, for instance, in +the case of the wonderful rise of the Roman Empire—the most +marvellous thing, Polybius says, which God ever brought about <a +name="citation72a"></a><a href="#footnote72a" +class="citation">[72a]</a>—are to be found in the +excellence of their constitution (<i>τῇ +ἰδιότητι +τῆς +πολιτείας</i>), +the wisdom of their advisers, their splendid military +arrangements, and their superstition (<i>τῇ +δεισιδαιμονίᾳ</i>). +For while Polybius regarded the revealed religion as, of course, +objective reality of truth, <a name="citation72b"></a><a +href="#footnote72b" class="citation">[72b]</a> he laid great +stress on its moral subjective influence, going, in one passage +on the subject, even so far as almost to excuse the introduction +of the supernatural in very small quantities into history on +account of the extremely good effect it would have on pious +people.</p> +<p>But perhaps there is no passage in the whole of ancient and +modern history which breathes such a manly and splendid spirit of +rationalism as one preserved to us in the Vatican—strange +resting-place for it!—in which he treats of the terrible +decay of population which had fallen on his native land in his +own day, and which by the general orthodox public was regarded as +a special judgment of God sending childlessness on women as a +punishment for the sins of the people. For it was a +disaster quite without parallel in the history of the land, and +entirely unforeseen by any of its political-economy writers who, +on the contrary, were always anticipating that danger would arise +from an excess of population overrunning its means of +subsistence, and becoming unmanageable through its size. +Polybius, however, will have nothing to do with either priest or +worker of miracles in this matter. He will not even seek +that ‘sacred Heart of Greece,’ Delphi, Apollo’s +shrine, whose inspiration even Thucydides admitted and before +whose wisdom Socrates bowed. How foolish, he says, were the +man who on this matter would pray to God. We must search +for the rational causes, and the causes are seen to be clear, and +the method of prevention also. He then proceeds to notice +how all this arose from the general reluctance to marriage and to +bearing the expense of educating a large family which resulted +from the carelessness and avarice of the men of his day, and he +explains on entirely rational principles the whole of this +apparently supernatural judgment.</p> +<p>Now, it is to be borne in mind that while his rejection of +miracles as violation of inviolable laws is entirely <i>a +priori</i>—for discussion of such a matter is, of course, +impossible for a rational thinker—yet his rejection of +supernatural intervention rests entirely on the scientific +grounds of the necessity of looking for natural causes. And +he is quite logical in maintaining his position on these +principles. For, where it is either difficult or impossible +to assign any rational cause for phenomena, or to discover their +laws, he acquiesces reluctantly in the alternative of admitting +some extra-natural interference which his essentially scientific +method of treating the matter has logically forced on him, +approving, for instance, of prayers for rain, on the express +ground that the laws of meteorology had not yet been +ascertained. He would, of course, have been the first to +welcome our modern discoveries in the matter. The passage +in question is in every way one of the most interesting in his +whole work, not, of course, as signifying any inclination on his +part to acquiesce in the supernatural, but because it shows how +essentially logical and rational his method of argument was, and +how candid and fair his mind.</p> +<p>Having now examined Polybius’s attitude towards the +supernatural and the general ideas which guided his research, I +will proceed to examine the method he pursued in his scientific +investigation of the complex phenomena of life. For, as I +have said before in the course of this essay, what is important +in all great writers is not so much the results they arrive at as +the methods they pursue. The increased knowledge of facts +may alter any conclusion in history as in physical science, and +the canons of speculative historical credibility must be +acknowledged to appeal rather to that subjective attitude of mind +which we call the historic sense than to any formulated objective +rules. But a scientific method is a gain for all time, and +the true if not the only progress of historical criticism +consists in the improvement of the instruments of research.</p> +<p>Now first, as regards his conception of history, I have +already pointed out that it was to him essentially a search for +causes, a problem to be solved, not a picture to be painted, a +scientific investigation into laws and tendencies, not a mere +romantic account of startling incident and wondrous +adventure. Thucydides, in the opening of his great work, +had sounded the first note of the scientific conception of +history. ‘The absence of romance in my pages,’ +he says, ‘will, I fear, detract somewhat from its value, +but I have written my work not to be the exploit of a passing +hour but as the possession of all time.’ <a +name="citation76"></a><a href="#footnote76" +class="citation">[76]</a> Polybius follows with words +almost entirely similar. If, he says, we banish from +history the consideration of causes, methods and motives +(<i>τὸ διὰ τί</i>, +<i>καὶ πως</i>, +<i>καὶ τίνος +χάριν</i>), and refuse to consider how far +the result of anything is its rational consequent, what is left +is a mere +<i>ἀγώνισμα</i>, not a +<i>μάθημα</i>, an oratorical essay +which may give pleasure for the moment, but which is entirely +without any scientific value for the explanation of the +future. Elsewhere he says that ‘history robbed of the +exposition of its causes and laws is a profitless thing, though +it may allure a fool.’ And all through his history +the same point is put forward and exemplified in every +fashion.</p> +<p>So far for the conception of history. Now for the +groundwork. As regards the character of the phenomena to be +selected by the scientific investigator, Aristotle had laid down +the general formula that nature should be studied in her normal +manifestations. Polybius, true to his character of applying +explicitly the principles implicit in the work of others, follows +out the doctrine of Aristotle, and lays particular stress on the +rational and undisturbed character of the development of the +Roman constitution as affording special facilities for the +discovery of the laws of its progress. Political +revolutions result from causes either external or internal. +The former are mere disturbing forces which lie outside the +sphere of scientific calculation. It is the latter which +are important for the establishing of principles and the +elucidation of the sequences of rational evolution.</p> +<p>He thus may be said to have anticipated one of the most +important truths of the modern methods of investigation: I mean +that principle which lays down that just as the study of +physiology should precede the study of pathology, just as the +laws of disease are best discovered by the phenomena presented in +health, so the method of arriving at all great social and +political truths is by the investigation of those cases where +development has been normal, rational and undisturbed.</p> +<p>The critical canon that the more a people has been interfered +with, the more difficult it becomes to generalise the laws of its +progress and to analyse the separate forces of its civilisation, +is one the validity of which is now generally recognised by those +who pretend to a scientific treatment of all history: and while +we have seen that Aristotle anticipated it in a general formula, +to Polybius belongs the honour of being the first to apply it +explicitly in the sphere of history.</p> +<p>I have shown how to this great scientific historian the motive +of his work was essentially the search for causes; and true to +his analytical spirit he is careful to examine what a cause +really is and in what part of the antecedents of any consequent +it is to be looked for. To give an illustration: As regards +the origin of the war with Perseus, some assigned as causes the +expulsion of Abrupolis by Perseus, the expedition of the latter +to Delphi, the plot against Eumenes and the seizure of the +ambassadors in Bœotia; of these incidents the two former, +Polybius points out, were merely the pretexts, the two latter +merely the occasions of the war. The war was really a +legacy left to Perseus by his father, who was determined to fight +it out with Rome. <a name="citation78"></a><a href="#footnote78" +class="citation">[78]</a></p> +<p>Here as elsewhere he is not originating any new idea. +Thucydides had pointed out the difference between the real and +the alleged cause, and the Aristotelian dictum about revolutions, +<i>οὐ περὶ +μικρῶν ἀλλ’ +ἐκ μικρῶν</i>, draws the +distinction between cause and occasion with the brilliancy of an +epigram. But the explicit and rational investigation of the +difference between <i>αἰτία</i>, +<i>ἀρχὴ</i>, and +<i>πρόφασις</i> was +reserved for Polybius. No canon of historical criticism can +be said to be of more real value than that involved in this +distinction, and the overlooking of it has filled our histories +with the contemptible accounts of the intrigues of courtiers and +of kings and the petty plottings of backstairs +influence—particulars interesting, no doubt, to those who +would ascribe the Reformation to Anne Boleyn’s pretty face, +the Persian war to the influence of a doctor or a curtain-lecture +from Atossa, or the French Revolution to Madame de Maintenon, but +without any value for those who aim at any scientific treatment +of history.</p> +<p>But the question of method, to which I am compelled always to +return, is not yet exhausted. There is another aspect in +which it may be regarded, and I shall now proceed to treat of +it.</p> +<p>One of the greatest difficulties with which the modern +historian has to contend is the enormous complexity of the facts +which come under his notice: D’Alembert’s suggestion +that at the end of every century a selection of facts should be +made and the rest burned (if it was really intended seriously) +could not, of course, be entertained for a moment. A +problem loses all its value when it becomes simplified, and the +world would be all the poorer if the Sibyl of History burned her +volumes. Besides, as Gibbon pointed out, ‘a +Montesquieu will detect in the most insignificant fact relations +which the vulgar overlook.’</p> +<p>Nor can the scientific investigator of history isolate the +particular elements, which he desires to examine, from disturbing +and extraneous causes, as the experimental chemist can do (though +sometimes, as in the case of lunatic asylums and prisons, he is +enabled to observe phenomena in a certain degree of +isolation). So he is compelled either to use the deductive +mode of arguing from general laws or to employ the method of +abstraction, which gives a fictitious isolation to phenomena +never so isolated in actual existence. And this is exactly +what Polybius has done as well as Thucydides. For, as has +been well remarked, there is in the works of these two writers a +certain plastic unity of type and motive; whatever they write is +penetrated through and through with a specific quality, a +singleness and concentration of purpose, which we may contrast +with the more comprehensive width as manifested not merely in the +modern mind, but also in Herodotus. Thucydides, regarding +society as influenced entirely by political motives, took no +account of forces of a different nature, and consequently his +results, like those of most modern political economists, have to +be modified largely <a name="citation81"></a><a +href="#footnote81" class="citation">[81]</a> before they come to +correspond with what we know was the actual state of fact. +Similarly, Polybius will deal only with those forces which tended +to bring the civilised world under the dominion of Rome (ix. 1), +and in the Thucydidean spirit points out the want of +picturesqueness and romance in his pages which is the result of +the abstract method (<i>τὸ +μονοειδὲς +τῆς +συντάξεως</i>) +being careful also to tell us that his rejection of all other +forces is essentially deliberate and the result of a preconceived +theory and by no means due to carelessness of any kind.</p> +<p>Now, of the general value of the abstract method and the +legality of its employment in the sphere of history, this is +perhaps not the suitable occasion for any discussion. It +is, however, in all ways worthy of note that Polybius is not +merely conscious of, but dwells with particular weight on, the +fact which is usually urged as the strongest objection to the +employment of the abstract method—I mean the conception of +a society as a sort of human organism whose parts are +indissolubly connected with one another and all affected when one +member is in any way agitated. This conception of the +organic nature of society appears first in Plato and Aristotle, +who apply it to cities. Polybius, as his wont is, expands +it to be a general characteristic of all history. It is an +idea of the very highest importance, especially to a man like +Polybius whose thoughts are continually turned towards the +essential unity of history and the impossibility of +isolation.</p> +<p>Farther, as regards the particular method of investigating +that group of phenomena obtained for him by the abstract method, +he will adopt, he tells us, neither the purely deductive nor the +purely inductive mode but the union of both. In other +words, he formally adopts that method of analysis upon the +importance of which I have dwelt before.</p> +<p>And lastly, while, without doubt, enormous simplicity in the +elements under consideration is the result of the employment of +the abstract method, even within the limit thus obtained a +certain selection must be made, and a selection involves a +theory. For the facts of life cannot be tabulated with as +great an ease as the colours of birds and insects can be +tabulated. Now, Polybius points out that those phenomena +particularly are to be dwelt on which may serve as a +<i>παράδειγμα</i> +or sample, and show the character of the tendencies of the age as +clearly as ‘a single drop from a full cask will be enough +to disclose the nature of the whole contents.’ This +recognition of the importance of single facts, not in themselves +but because of the spirit they represent, is extremely +scientific; for we know that from the single bone, or tooth even, +the anatomist can recreate entirely the skeleton of the primeval +horse, and the botanist tell the character of the flora and fauna +of a district from a single specimen.</p> +<p>Regarding truth as ‘the most divine thing in +Nature,’ the very ‘eye and light of history without +which it moves a blind thing,’ Polybius spared no pains in +the acquisition of historical materials or in the study of the +sciences of politics and war, which he considered were so +essential to the training of the scientific historian, and the +labour he took is mirrored in the many ways in which he +criticises other authorities.</p> +<p>There is something, as a rule, slightly contemptible about +ancient criticism. The modern idea of the critic as the +interpreter, the expounder of the beauty and excellence of the +work he selects, seems quite unknown. Nothing can be more +captious or unfair, for instance, than the method by which +Aristotle criticised the ideal state of Plato in his ethical +works, and the passages quoted by Polybius from Timæus show +that the latter historian fully deserved the punning name given +to him. But in Polybius there is, I think, little of that +bitterness and pettiness of spirit which characterises most other +writers, and an incidental story he tells of his relations with +one of the historians whom he criticised shows that he was a man +of great courtesy and refinement of taste—as, indeed, +befitted one who had lived always in the society of those who +were of great and noble birth.</p> +<p>Now, as regards the character of the canons by which he +criticises the works of other authors, in the majority of cases +he employs simply his own geographical and military knowledge, +showing, for instance, the impossibility in the accounts given of +Nabis’s march from Sparta simply by his acquaintance with +the spots in question; or the inconsistency of those of the +battle of Issus; or of the accounts given by Ephorus of the +battles of Leuctra and Mantinea. In the latter case he +says, if any one will take the trouble to measure out the ground +of the site of the battle and then test the manœuvres +given, he will find how inaccurate the accounts are.</p> +<p>In other cases he appeals to public documents, the importance +of which he was always foremost in recognising; showing, for +instance, by a document in the public archives of Rhodes how +inaccurate were the accounts given of the battle of Lade by Zeno +and Antisthenes. Or he appeals to psychological +probability, rejecting, for instance, the scandalous stories told +of Philip of Macedon, simply from the king’s general +greatness of character, and arguing that a boy so well educated +and so respectably connected as Demochares (xii. 14) could never +have been guilty of that of which evil rumour accused him.</p> +<p>But the chief object of his literary censure is Timæus, +who had been unsparing of his strictures on others. The +general point which he makes against him, impugning his accuracy +as a historian, is that he derived his knowledge of history not +from the dangerous perils of a life of action but in the secure +indolence of a narrow scholastic life. There is, indeed, no +point on which he is so vehement as this. ‘A +history,’ he says, ‘written in a library gives as +lifeless and as inaccurate a picture of history as a painting +which is copied not from a living animal but from a stuffed +one.’</p> +<p>There is more difference, he says in another place, between +the history of an eye-witness and that of one whose knowledge +comes from books, than there is between the scenes of real life +and the fictitious landscapes of theatrical scenery. +Besides this, he enters into somewhat elaborate detailed +criticism of passages where he thought Timæus was following +a wrong method and perverting truth, passages which it will be +worth while to examine in detail.</p> +<p>Timæus, from the fact of there being a Roman custom to +shoot a war-horse on a stated day, argued back to the Trojan +origin of that people. Polybius, on the other hand, points +out that the inference is quite unwarrantable, because +horse-sacrifices are ordinary institutions common to all +barbarous tribes. Timæus here, as was common with +Greek writers, is arguing back from some custom of the present to +an historical event in the past. Polybius really is +employing the comparative method, showing how the custom was an +ordinary step in the civilisation of every early people.</p> +<p>In another place, <a name="citation86"></a><a +href="#footnote86" class="citation">[86]</a> he shows how +illogical is the scepticism of Timæus as regards the +existence of the Bull of Phalaris simply by appealing to the +statue of the Bull, which was still to be seen in Carthage; +pointing out how impossible it was, on any other theory except +that it belonged to Phalaris, to account for the presence in +Carthage of a bull of this peculiar character with a door between +his shoulders. But one of the great points which he uses +against this Sicilian historian is in reference to the question +of the origin of the Locrian colony. In accordance with the +received tradition on the subject, Aristotle had represented the +Locrian colony as founded by some Parthenidæ or +slaves’ children, as they were called, a statement which +seems to have roused the indignation of Timæus, who went to +a good deal of trouble to confute this theory. He does so +on the following grounds:—</p> +<p>First of all, he points out that in the ancient days the +Greeks had no slaves at all, so the mention of them in the matter +is an anachronism; and next he declares that he was shown in the +Greek city of Locris certain ancient inscriptions in which their +relation to the Italian city was expressed in terms of the +position between parent and child, which showed also that mutual +rights of citizenship were accorded to each city. Besides +this, he appeals to various questions of improbability as regards +their international relationship, on which Polybius takes +diametrically opposite grounds which hardly call for +discussion. And in favour of his own view he urges two +points more: first, that the Lacedæmonians being allowed +furlough for the purpose of seeing their wives at home, it was +unlikely that the Locrians should not have had the same +privilege; and next, that the Italian Locrians knew nothing of +the Aristotelian version and had, on the contrary, very severe +laws against adulterers, runaway slaves and the like. Now, +most of these questions rest on mere probability, which is always +such a subjective canon that an appeal to it is rarely +conclusive. I would note, however, as regards the +inscriptions which, if genuine, would of course have settled the +matter, that Polybius looks on them as a mere invention on the +part of Timæus, who, he remarks, gives no details about +them, though, as a rule, he is over-anxious to give chapter and +verse for everything. A somewhat more interesting point is +that where he attacks Timæus for the introduction of +fictitious speeches into his narrative; for on this point +Polybius seems to be far in advance of the opinions held by +literary men on the subject not merely in his own day, but for +centuries after.</p> +<p>Herodotus had introduced speeches avowedly dramatic and +fictitious. Thucydides states clearly that, where he was +unable to find out what people really said, he put down what they +ought to have said. Sallust alludes, it is true, to the +fact of the speech he puts into the mouth of the tribune Memmius +being essentially genuine, but the speeches given in the senate +on the occasion of the Catilinarian conspiracy are very different +from the same orations as they appear in Cicero. Livy makes +his ancient Romans wrangle and chop logic with all the subtlety +of a Hortensius or a Scævola. And even in later days, +when shorthand reporters attended the debates of the senate and a +<i>Daily News</i> was published in Rome, we find that one of the +most celebrated speeches in Tacitus (that in which the Emperor +Claudius gives the Gauls their freedom) is shown, by an +inscription discovered recently at Lugdunum, to be entirely +fabulous.</p> +<p>Upon the other hand, it must be borne in mind that these +speeches were not intended to deceive; they were regarded merely +as a certain dramatic element which it was allowable to introduce +into history for the purpose of giving more life and reality to +the narration, and were to be criticised, not as we should, by +arguing how in an age before shorthand was known such a report +was possible or how, in the failure of written documents, +tradition could bring down such an accurate verbal account, but +by the higher test of their psychological probability as regards +the persons in whose mouths they are placed. An ancient +historian in answer to modern criticism would say, probably, that +these fictitious speeches were in reality more truthful than the +actual ones, just as Aristotle claimed for poetry a higher degree +of truth in comparison to history. The whole point is +interesting as showing how far in advance of his age Polybius may +be said to have been.</p> +<p>The last scientific historian, it is possible to gather from +his writings what he considered were the characteristics of the +ideal writer of history; and no small light will be thrown on the +progress of historical criticism if we strive to collect and +analyse what in Polybius are more or less scattered +expressions. The ideal historian must be contemporary with +the events he describes, or removed from them by one generation +only. Where it is possible, he is to be an eye-witness of +what he writes of; where that is out of his power he is to test +all traditions and stories carefully and not to be ready to +accept what is plausible in place of what is true. He is to +be no bookworm living aloof from the experiences of the world in +the artificial isolation of a university town, but a politician, +a soldier, and a traveller, a man not merely of thought but of +action, one who can do great things as well as write of them, who +in the sphere of history could be what Byron and Æschylus +were in the sphere of poetry, at once <i>le chantre et le +héros</i>.</p> +<p>He is to keep before his eyes the fact that chance is merely a +synonym for our ignorance; that the reign of law pervades the +domain of history as much as it does that of political +science. He is to accustom himself to look on all occasions +for rational and natural causes. And while he is to +recognise the practical utility of the supernatural, in an +educational point of view, he is not himself to indulge in such +intellectual beating of the air as to admit the possibility of +the violation of inviolable laws, or to argue in a sphere wherein +argument is <i>a priori</i> annihilated. He is to be free +from all bias towards friend and country; he is to be courteous +and gentle in criticism; he is not to regard history as a mere +opportunity for splendid and tragic writing; nor is he to falsify +truth for the sake of a paradox or an epigram.</p> +<p>While acknowledging the importance of particular facts as +samples of higher truths, he is to take a broad and general view +of humanity. He is to deal with the whole race and with the +world, not with particular tribes or separate countries. He +is to bear in mind that the world is really an organism wherein +no one part can be moved without the others being affected +also. He is to distinguish between cause and occasion, +between the influence of general laws and particular fancies, and +he is to remember that the greatest lessons of the world are +contained in history and that it is the historian’s duty to +manifest them so as to save nations from following those unwise +policies which always lead to dishonour and ruin, and to teach +individuals to apprehend by the intellectual culture of history +those truths which else they would have to learn in the bitter +school of experience.</p> +<p>Now, as regards his theory of the necessity of the +historian’s being contemporary with the events he +describes, so far as the historian is a mere narrator the remark +is undoubtedly true. But to appreciate the harmony and +rational position of the facts of a great epoch, to discover its +laws, the causes which produced it and the effects which it +generates, the scene must be viewed from a certain height and +distance to be completely apprehended. A thoroughly +contemporary historian such as Lord Clarendon or Thucydides is in +reality part of the history he criticises; and, in the case of +such contemporary historians as Fabius and Philistus, Polybius in +compelled to acknowledge that they are misled by patriotic and +other considerations. Against Polybius himself no such +accusation can be made. He indeed of all men is able, as +from some lofty tower, to discern the whole tendency of the +ancient world, the triumph of Roman institutions and of Greek +thought which is the last message of the old world and, in a more +spiritual sense, has become the Gospel of the new.</p> +<p>One thing indeed he did not see, or if he saw it, he thought +but little of it—how from the East there was spreading over +the world, as a wave spreads, a spiritual inroad of new religions +from the time when the Pessinuntine mother of the gods, a +shapeless mass of stone, was brought to the eternal city by her +holiest citizen, to the day when the ship <i>Castor and +Pollux</i> stood in at Puteoli, and St. Paul turned his face +towards martyrdom and victory at Rome. Polybius was able to +predict, from his knowledge of the causes of revolutions and the +tendencies of the various forms of governments, the uprising of +that democratic tone of thought which, as soon as a seed is sown +in the murder of the Gracchi and the exile of Marius, culminated +as all democratic movements do culminate, in the supreme +authority of one man, the lordship of the world under the +world’s rightful lord, Caius Julius Cæsar. +This, indeed, he saw in no uncertain way. But the turning +of all men’s hearts to the East, the first glimmering of +that splendid dawn which broke over the hills of Galilee and +flooded the earth like wine, was hidden from his eyes.</p> +<p>There are many points in the description of the ideal +historian which one may compare to the picture which Plato has +given us of the ideal philosopher. They are both +‘spectators of all time and all existence.’ +Nothing is contemptible in their eyes, for all things have a +meaning, and they both walk in august reasonableness before all +men, conscious of the workings of God yet free from all terror of +mendicant priest or vagrant miracle-worker. But the +parallel ends here. For the one stands aloof from the +world-storm of sleet and hail, his eyes fixed on distant and +sunlit heights, loving knowledge for the sake of knowledge and +wisdom for the joy of wisdom, while the other is an eager actor +in the world ever seeking to apply his knowledge to useful +things. Both equally desire truth, but the one because of +its utility, the other for its beauty. The historian +regards it as the rational principle of all true history, and no +more. To the other it comes as an all-pervading and mystic +enthusiasm, ‘like the desire of strong wine, the craving of +ambition, the passionate love of what is beautiful.’</p> +<p>Still, though we miss in the historian those higher and more +spiritual qualities which the philosopher of the Academe alone of +all men possessed, we must not blind ourselves to the merits of +that great rationalist who seems to have anticipated the very +latest words of modern science. Nor yet is he to be +regarded merely in the narrow light in which he is estimated by +most modern critics, as the explicit champion of rationalism and +nothing more. For he is connected with another idea, the +course of which is as the course of that great river of his +native Arcadia which, springing from some arid and sun-bleached +rock, gathers strength and beauty as it flows till it reaches the +asphodel meadows of Olympia and the light and laughter of Ionian +waters.</p> +<p>For in him we can discern the first notes of that great cult +of the seven-hilled city which made Virgil write his epic and +Livy his history, which found in Dante its highest exponent, +which dreamed of an Empire where the Emperor would care for the +bodies and the Pope for the souls of men, and so has passed into +the conception of God’s spiritual empire and the universal +brotherhood of man and widened into the huge ocean of universal +thought as the Peneus loses itself in the sea.</p> +<p>Polybius is the last scientific historian of Greece. The +writer who seems fittingly to complete the progress of thought is +a writer of biographies only. I will not here touch on +Plutarch’s employment of the inductive method as shown in +his constant use of inscription and statue, of public document +and building and the like, because it involves no new +method. It is his attitude towards miracles of which I +desire to treat.</p> +<p>Plutarch is philosophic enough to see that in the sense of a +violation of the laws of nature a miracle is impossible. It +is absurd, he says, to imagine that the statue of a saint can +speak, and that an inanimate object not possessing the vocal +organs should be able to utter an articulate sound. Upon +the other hand, he protests against science imagining that, by +explaining the natural causes of things, it has explained away +their transcendental meaning. ‘When the tears on the +cheek of some holy statue have been analysed into the moisture +which certain temperatures produce on wood and marble, it yet by +no means follows that they were not a sign of grief and mourning +set there by God Himself.’ When Lampon saw in the +prodigy of the one-horned ram the omen of the supreme rule of +Pericles, and when Anaxagoras showed that the abnormal +development was the rational resultant of the peculiar formation +of the skull, the dreamer and the man of science were both right; +it was the business of the latter to consider how the prodigy +came about, of the former to show why it was so formed and what +it so portended. The progression of thought is exemplified +in all particulars. Herodotus had a glimmering sense of the +impossibility of a violation of nature. Thucydides ignored +the supernatural. Polybius rationalised it. Plutarch +raises it to its mystical heights again, though he bases it on +law. In a word, Plutarch felt that while science brings the +supernatural down to the natural, yet ultimately all that is +natural is really supernatural. To him, as to many of our +own day, religion was that transcendental attitude of the mind +which, contemplating a world resting on inviolable law, is yet +comforted and seeks to worship God not in the violation but in +the fulfilment of nature.</p> +<p>It may seem paradoxical to quote in connection with the priest +of Chæronea such a pure rationalist as Mr. Herbert Spencer; +yet when we read as the last message of modern science that +‘when the equation of life has been reduced to its lowest +terms the symbols are symbols still,’ mere signs, that is, +of that unknown reality which underlies all matter and all +spirit, we may feel how over the wide strait of centuries thought +calls to thought and how Plutarch has a higher position than is +usually claimed for him in the progress of the Greek +intellect.</p> +<p>And, indeed, it seems that not merely the importance of +Plutarch himself but also that of the land of his birth in the +evolution of Greek civilisation has been passed over by modern +critics. To us, indeed, the bare rock to which the +Parthenon serves as a crown, and which lies between Colonus and +Attica’s violet hills, will always be the holiest spot in +the land of Greece: and Delphi will come next, and then the +meadows of Eurotas where that noble people lived who represented +in Hellenic thought the reaction of the law of duty against the +law of beauty, the opposition of conduct to culture. Yet, +as one stands on the <i>σχιστὴ +ὁδός</i> of Cithæron and looks out +on the great double plain of Boeotia, the enormous importance of +the division of Hellas comes to one’s mind with great +force. To the north are Orchomenus and the Minyan +treasure-house, seat of those merchant princes of Phoenicia who +brought to Greece the knowledge of letters and the art of working +in gold. Thebes is at our feet with the gloom of the +terrible legends of Greek tragedy still lingering about it, the +birthplace of Pindar, the nurse of Epaminondas and the Sacred +Band.</p> +<p>And from out of the plain where ‘Mars loved to +dance,’ rises the Muses’ haunt, Helicon, by whose +silver streams Corinna and Hesiod sang; while far away under the +white ægis of those snow-capped mountains lies +Chæronea and the Lion plain where with vain chivalry the +Greeks strove to check Macedon first and afterwards Rome; +Chæronea, where in the Martinmas summer of Greek +civilisation Plutarch rose from the drear waste of a dying +religion as the aftermath rises when the mowers think they have +left the field bare.</p> +<p>Greek philosophy began and ended in scepticism: the first and +the last word of Greek history was Faith.</p> +<p>Splendid thus in its death, like winter sunsets, the Greek +religion passed away into the horror of night. For the +Cimmerian darkness was at hand, and when the schools of Athens +were closed and the statue of Athena broken, the Greek spirit +passed from the gods and the history of its own land to the +subtleties of defining the doctrine of the Trinity and the +mystical attempts to bring Plato into harmony with Christ and to +reconcile Gethsemane and the Sermon on the Mount with the +Athenian prison and the discussion in the woods of Colonus. +The Greek spirit slept for wellnigh a thousand years. When +it woke again, like Antæus it had gathered strength from +the earth where it lay; like Apollo it had lost none of its +divinity through its long servitude.</p> +<p>In the history of Roman thought we nowhere find any of those +characteristics of the Greek Illumination which I have pointed +out are the necessary concomitants of the rise of historical +criticism. The conservative respect for tradition which +made the Roman people delight in the ritual and formulas of law, +and is as apparent in their politics as in their religion, was +fatal to any rise of that spirit of revolt against authority the +importance of which, as a factor in intellectual progress, we +have already seen.</p> +<p>The whitened tables of the Pontifices preserved carefully the +records of the eclipses and other atmospherical phenomena, and +what we call the art of verifying dates was known to them at an +early time; but there was no spontaneous rise of physical science +to suggest by its analogies of law and order a new method of +research, nor any natural springing up of the questioning spirit +of philosophy with its unification of all phenomena and all +knowledge. At the very time when the whole tide of Eastern +superstition was sweeping into the heart of the Capital the +Senate banished the Greek philosophers from Rome. And of +the three systems which did at length take some root in the city, +those of Zeno and Epicurus were used merely as the rule for the +ordering of life, while the dogmatic scepticism of Carneades, by +its very principles, annihilated the possibility of argument and +encouraged a perfect indifference to research.</p> +<p>Nor were the Romans ever fortunate enough like the Greeks to +have to face the incubus of any dogmatic system of legends and +myths, the immoralities and absurdities of which might excite a +revolutionary outbreak of sceptical criticism. For the +Roman religion became as it were crystallised and isolated from +progress at an early period of its evolution. Their gods +remained mere abstractions of commonplace virtues or +uninteresting personifications of the useful things of +life. The old primitive creed was indeed always upheld as a +state institution on account of the enormous facilities it +offered for cheating in politics, but as a spiritual system of +belief it was unanimously rejected at a very early period both by +the common people and the educated classes, for the sensible +reason that it was so extremely dull. The former took +refuge in the mystic sensualities of the worship of Isis, the +latter in the Stoical rules of life. The Romans classified +their gods carefully in their order of precedence, analysed their +genealogies in the laborious spirit of modern heraldry, fenced +them round with a ritual as intricate as their law, but never +quite cared enough about them to believe in them. So it was +of no account with them when the philosophers announced that +Minerva was merely memory. She had never been much +else. Nor did they protest when Lucretius dared to say of +Ceres and of Liber that they were only the corn of the field and +the fruit of the vine. For they had never mourned for the +daughter of Demeter in the asphodel meadows of Sicily, nor +traversed the glades of Cithæron with fawn-skin and with +spear.</p> +<p>This brief sketch of the condition of Roman thought will serve +to prepare us for the almost total want of scientific historical +criticism which we shall discern in their literature, and has, +besides, afforded fresh corroboration of the conditions essential +to the rise of this spirit, and of the modes of thought which it +reflects and in which it is always to be found. Roman +historical composition had its origin in the pontifical college +of ecclesiastical lawyers, and preserved to its close the +uncritical spirit which characterised its fountain-head. It +possessed from the outset a most voluminous collection of the +materials of history, which, however, produced merely +antiquarians, not historians. It is so hard to use facts, +so easy to accumulate them.</p> +<p>Wearied of the dull monotony of the pontifical annals, which +dwelt on little else but the rise and fall in provisions and the +eclipses of the sun, Cato wrote out a history with his own hand +for the instruction of his child, to which he gave the name of +Origines, and before his time some aristocratic families had +written histories in Greek much in the same spirit in which the +Germans of the eighteenth century used French as the literary +language. But the first regular Roman historian is +Sallust. Between the extravagant eulogies passed on this +author by the French (such as De Closset), and Dr. +Mommsen’s view of him as merely a political pamphleteer, it +is perhaps difficult to reach the <i>via media</i> of unbiassed +appreciation. He has, at any rate, the credit of being a +purely rationalistic historian, perhaps the only one in Roman +literature. Cicero had a good many qualifications for a +scientific historian, and (as he usually did) thought very highly +of his own powers. On passages of ancient legend, however, +he is rather unsatisfactory, for while he is too sensible to +believe them he is too patriotic to reject them. And this +is really the attitude of Livy, who claims for early Roman legend +a certain uncritical homage from the rest of the subject +world. His view in his history is that it is not worth +while to examine the truth of these stories.</p> +<p>In his hands the history of Rome unrolls before our eyes like +some gorgeous tapestry, where victory succeeds victory, where +triumph treads on the heels of triumph, and the line of heroes +seems never to end. It is not till we pass behind the +canvas and see the slight means by which the effect is produced +that we apprehend the fact that like most picturesque writers +Livy is an indifferent critic. As regards his attitude +towards the credibility of early Roman history he is quite as +conscious as we are of its mythical and unsound nature. He +will not, for instance, decide whether the Horatii were Albans or +Romans; who was the first dictator; how many tribunes there were, +and the like. His method, as a rule, is merely to mention +all the accounts and sometimes to decide in favour of the most +probable, but usually not to decide at all. No canons of +historical criticism will ever discover whether the Roman women +interviewed the mother of Coriolanus of their own accord or at +the suggestion of the senate; whether Remus was killed for +jumping over his brother’s wall or because they quarrelled +about birds; whether the ambassadors found Cincinnatus ploughing +or only mending a hedge. Livy suspends his judgment over +these important facts and history when questioned on their truth +is dumb. If he does select between two historians he +chooses the one who is nearer to the facts he describes. +But he is no critic, only a conscientious writer. It is +mere vain waste to dwell on his critical powers, for they do not +exist.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>In the case of Tacitus imagination has taken the place of +history. The past lives again in his pages, but through no +laborious criticism; rather through a dramatic and psychological +faculty which he specially possessed.</p> +<p>In the philosophy of history he has no belief. He can +never make up his mind what to believe as regards God’s +government of the world. There is no method in him and none +elsewhere in Roman literature.</p> +<p>Nations may not have missions but they certainly have +functions. And the function of ancient Italy was not merely +to give us what is statical in our institutions and rational in +our law, but to blend into one elemental creed the spiritual +aspirations of Aryan and of Semite. Italy was not a pioneer +in intellectual progress, nor a motive power in the evolution of +thought. The owl of the goddess of Wisdom traversed over +the whole land and found nowhere a resting-place. The dove, +which is the bird of Christ, flew straight to the city of Rome +and the new reign began. It was the fashion of early +Italian painters to represent in mediæval costume the +soldiers who watched over the tomb of Christ, and this, which was +the result of the frank anachronism of all true art, may serve to +us as an allegory. For it was in vain that the Middle Ages +strove to guard the buried spirit of progress. When the +dawn of the Greek spirit arose, the sepulchre was empty, the +grave-clothes laid aside. Humanity had risen from the +dead.</p> +<p>The study of Greek, it has been well said, implies the birth +of criticism, comparison and research. At the opening of +that education of modern by ancient thought which we call the +Renaissance, it was the words of Aristotle which sent Columbus +sailing to the New World, while a fragment of Pythagorean +astronomy set Copernicus thinking on that train of reasoning +which has revolutionised the whole position of our planet in the +universe. Then it was seen that the only meaning of +progress is a return to Greek modes of thought. The monkish +hymns which obscured the pages of Greek manuscripts were blotted +out, the splendours of a new method were unfolded to the world, +and out of the melancholy sea of mediævalism rose the free +spirit of man in all that splendour of glad adolescence, when the +bodily powers seem quickened by a new vitality, when the eye sees +more clearly than its wont and the mind apprehends what was +beforetime hidden from it. To herald the opening of the +sixteenth century, from the little Venetian printing press came +forth all the great authors of antiquity, each bearing on the +title-page the words <i>Ἅλδος +ὁ +Μανούτιος +Ῥωμαῖος +καὶ +Φιλέλλην</i>; words +which may serve to remind us with what wondrous prescience +Polybius saw the world’s fate when he foretold the material +sovereignty of Roman institutions and exemplified in himself the +intellectual empire of Greece.</p> +<p>The course of the study of the spirit of historical criticism +has not been a profitless investigation into modes and forms of +thought now antiquated and of no account. The only spirit +which is entirely removed from us is the mediæval; the +Greek spirit is essentially modern. The introduction of the +comparative method of research which has forced history to +disclose its secrets belongs in a measure to us. Ours, too, +is a more scientific knowledge of philology and the method of +survival. Nor did the ancients know anything of the +doctrine of averages or of crucial instances, both of which +methods have proved of such importance in modern criticism, the +one adding a most important proof of the statical elements of +history, and exemplifying the influences of all physical +surroundings on the life of man; the other, as in the single +instance of the Moulin Quignon skull, serving to create a whole +new science of prehistoric archæology and to bring us back +to a time when man was coeval with the stone age, the mammoth and +the woolly rhinoceros. But, except these, we have added no +new canon or method to the science of historical criticism. +Across the drear waste of a thousand years the Greek and the +modern spirit join hands.</p> +<p>In the torch race which the Greek boys ran from the +Cerameician field of death to the home of the goddess of Wisdom, +not merely he who first reached the goal but he also who first +started with the torch aflame received a prize. In the +Lampadephoria of civilisation and free thought let us not forget +to render due meed of honour to those who first lit that sacred +flame, the increasing splendour of which lights our footsteps to +the far-off divine event of the attainment of perfect truth.</p> +<h2><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 109</span>THE +ENGLISH RENAISSANCE OF ART</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">‘The English Renaissance of Art’ +was delivered as a lecture for the first time in the Chickering +Hall, New York, on January 9, 1882. A portion of it was +reported in the <i>New York Tribune</i> on the following day and +in other American papers subsequently. Since then this +portion has been reprinted, more or less accurately, from time to +time, in unauthorised editions.</p> +<p class="gutsumm">There are in existence no less than four +copies of the lecture, the earliest of which is entirely in the +author’s handwriting. The others are type-written and +contain many corrections and additions made by the author in +manuscript. These have all been collated and the text here +given contains, as nearly as possible, the lecture in the +original form as delivered by the author during his tour in the +United States.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Among</span> the many debts which we owe +to the supreme æsthetic faculty of Goethe is that he was +the first to teach us to define beauty in terms the most concrete +possible, to realise it, I mean, always in its special +manifestations. So, in the lecture which I have the honour +to deliver before you, I will not try to give you any abstract +definition of beauty—any such universal formula for it as +was sought for by the philosophy of the eighteenth +century—still less to communicate to you that which in its +essence is incommunicable, the virtue by which a particular +picture or poem affects us with a unique and special joy; but +rather to point out to you the general ideas which characterise +the great English Renaissance of Art in this century, to discover +their source, as far as that is possible, and to estimate their +future as far as that is possible.</p> +<p>I call it our English Renaissance because it is indeed a sort +of new birth of the spirit of man, like the great Italian +Renaissance of the fifteenth century, in its desire for a more +gracious and comely way of life, its passion for physical beauty, +its exclusive attention to form, its seeking for new subjects for +poetry, new forms of art, new intellectual and imaginative +enjoyments: and I call it our romantic movement because it is our +most recent expression of beauty.</p> +<p>It has been described as a mere revival of Greek modes of +thought, and again as a mere revival of mediæval +feeling. Rather I would say that to these forms of the +human spirit it has added whatever of artistic value the +intricacy and complexity and experience of modern life can give: +taking from the one its clearness of vision and its sustained +calm, from the other its variety of expression and the mystery of +its vision. For what, as Goethe said, is the study of the +ancients but a return to the real world (for that is what they +did); and what, said Mazzini, is mediævalism but +individuality?</p> +<p>It is really from the union of Hellenism, in its breadth, its +sanity of purpose, its calm possession of beauty, with the +adventive, the intensified individualism, the passionate colour +of the romantic spirit, that springs the art of the nineteenth +century in England, as from the marriage of Faust and Helen of +Troy sprang the beautiful boy Euphorion.</p> +<p>Such expressions as ‘classical’ and +‘romantic’ are, it is true, often apt to become the +mere catchwords of schools. We must always remember that +art has only one sentence to utter: there is for her only one +high law, the law of form or harmony—yet between the +classical and romantic spirit we may say that there lies this +difference at least, that the one deals with the type and the +other with the exception. In the work produced under the +modern romantic spirit it is no longer the permanent, the +essential truths of life that are treated of; it is the momentary +situation of the one, the momentary aspect of the other that art +seeks to render. In sculpture, which is the type of one +spirit, the subject predominates over the situation; in painting, +which is the type of the other, the situation predominates over +the subject.</p> +<p>There are two spirits, then: the Hellenic spirit and the +spirit of romance may be taken as forming the essential elements +of our conscious intellectual tradition, of our permanent +standard of taste. As regards their origin, in art as in +politics there is but one origin for all revolutions, a desire on +the part of man for a nobler form of life, for a freer method and +opportunity of expression. Yet, I think that in estimating +the sensuous and intellectual spirit which presides over our +English Renaissance, any attempt to isolate it in any way from in +the progress and movement and social life of the age that has +produced it would be to rob it of its true vitality, possibly to +mistake its true meaning. And in disengaging from the +pursuits and passions of this crowded modern world those passions +and pursuits which have to do with art and the love of art, we +must take into account many great events of history which seem to +be the most opposed to any such artistic feeling.</p> +<p>Alien then from any wild, political passion, or from the harsh +voice of a rude people in revolt, as our English Renaissance must +seem, in its passionate cult of pure beauty, its flawless +devotion to form, its exclusive and sensitive nature, it is to +the French Revolution that we must look for the most primary +factor of its production, the first condition of its birth: that +great Revolution of which we are all the children though the +voices of some of us be often loud against it; that Revolution to +which at a time when even such spirits as Coleridge and +Wordsworth lost heart in England, noble messages of love blown +across seas came from your young Republic.</p> +<p>It is true that our modern sense of the continuity of history +has shown us that neither in politics nor in nature are there +revolutions ever but evolutions only, and that the prelude to +that wild storm which swept over France in 1789 and made every +king in Europe tremble for his throne, was first sounded in +literature years before the Bastille fell and the Palace was +taken. The way for those red scenes by Seine and Loire was +paved by that critical spirit of Germany and England which +accustomed men to bring all things to the test of reason or +utility or both, while the discontent of the people in the +streets of Paris was the echo that followed the life of Emile and +of Werther. For Rousseau, by silent lake and mountain, had +called humanity back to the golden age that still lies before us +and preached a return to nature, in passionate eloquence whose +music still lingers about our keen northern air. And Goethe +and Scott had brought romance back again from the prison she had +lain in for so many centuries—and what is romance but +humanity?</p> +<p>Yet in the womb of the Revolution itself, and in the storm and +terror of that wild time, tendencies were hidden away that the +artistic Renaissance bent to her own service when the time +came—a scientific tendency first, which has borne in our +own day a brood of somewhat noisy Titans, yet in the sphere of +poetry has not been unproductive of good. I do not mean +merely in its adding to enthusiasm that intellectual basis which +in its strength, or that more obvious influence about which +Wordsworth was thinking when he said very nobly that poetry was +merely the impassioned expression in the face of science, and +that when science would put on a form of flesh and blood the poet +would lend his divine spirit to aid the transfiguration. +Nor do I dwell much on the great cosmical emotion and deep +pantheism of science to which Shelley has given its first and +Swinburne its latest glory of song, but rather on its influence +on the artistic spirit in preserving that close observation and +the sense of limitation as well as of clearness of vision which +are the characteristics of the real artist.</p> +<p>The great and golden rule of art as well as of life, wrote +William Blake, is that the more distinct, sharp and defined the +boundary line, the more perfect is the work of art; and the less +keen and sharp the greater is the evidence of weak imitation, +plagiarism and bungling. ‘Great inventors in all ages +knew this—Michael Angelo and Albert Durer are known by this +and by this alone’; and another time he wrote, with all the +simple directness of nineteenth-century prose, ‘to +generalise is to be an idiot.’</p> +<p>And this love of definite conception, this clearness of +vision, this artistic sense of limit, is the characteristic of +all great work and poetry; of the vision of Homer as of the +vision of Dante, of Keats and William Morris as of Chaucer and +Theocritus. It lies at the base of all noble, realistic and +romantic work as opposed to the colourless and empty abstractions +of our own eighteenth-century poets and of the classical +dramatists of France, or of the vague spiritualities of the +German sentimental school: opposed, too, to that spirit of +transcendentalism which also was root and flower itself of the +great Revolution, underlying the impassioned contemplation of +Wordsworth and giving wings and fire to the eagle-like flight of +Shelley, and which in the sphere of philosophy, though displaced +by the materialism and positiveness of our day, bequeathed two +great schools of thought, the school of Newman to Oxford, the +school of Emerson to America. Yet is this spirit of +transcendentalism alien to the spirit of art. For the +artist can accept no sphere of life in exchange for life +itself. For him there is no escape from the bondage of the +earth: there is not even the desire of escape.</p> +<p>He is indeed the only true realist: symbolism, which is the +essence of the transcendental spirit, is alien to him. The +metaphysical mind of Asia will create for itself the monstrous, +many-breasted idol of Ephesus, but to the Greek, pure artist, +that work is most instinct with spiritual life which conforms +most clearly to the perfect facts of physical life.</p> +<p>‘The storm of revolution,’ as Andre Chenier said, +‘blows out the torch of poetry.’ It is not for +some little time that the real influence of such a wild cataclysm +of things is felt: at first the desire for equality seems to have +produced personalities of more giant and Titan stature than the +world had ever known before. Men heard the lyre of Byron +and the legions of Napoleon; it was a period of measureless +passions and of measureless despair; ambition, discontent, were +the chords of life and art; the age was an age of revolt: a phase +through which the human spirit must pass, but one in which it +cannot rest. For the aim of culture is not rebellion but +peace, the valley perilous where ignorant armies clash by night +being no dwelling-place meet for her to whom the gods have +assigned the fresh uplands and sunny heights and clear, +untroubled air.</p> +<p>And soon that desire for perfection, which lay at the base of +the Revolution, found in a young English poet its most complete +and flawless realisation.</p> +<p>Phidias and the achievements of Greek art are foreshadowed in +Homer: Dante prefigures for us the passion and colour and +intensity of Italian painting: the modern love of landscape dates +from Rousseau, and it is in Keats that one discerns the beginning +of the artistic renaissance of England.</p> +<p>Byron was a rebel and Shelley a dreamer; but in the calmness +and clearness of his vision, his perfect self-control, his +unerring sense of beauty and his recognition of a separate realm +for the imagination, Keats was the pure and serene artist, the +forerunner of the pre-Raphaelite school, and so of the great +romantic movement of which I am to speak.</p> +<p>Blake had indeed, before him, claimed for art a lofty, +spiritual mission, and had striven to raise design to the ideal +level of poetry and music, but the remoteness of his vision both +in painting and poetry and the incompleteness of his technical +powers had been adverse to any real influence. It is in +Keats that the artistic spirit of this century first found its +absolute incarnation.</p> +<p>And these pre-Raphaelites, what were they? If you ask +nine-tenths of the British public what is the meaning of the word +æsthetics, they will tell you it is the French for +affectation or the German for a dado; and if you inquire about +the pre-Raphaelites you will hear something about an eccentric +lot of young men to whom a sort of divine crookedness and holy +awkwardness in drawing were the chief objects of art. To +know nothing about their great men is one of the necessary +elements of English education.</p> +<p>As regards the pre-Raphaelites the story is simple +enough. In the year 1847 a number of young men in London, +poets and painters, passionate admirers of Keats all of them, +formed the habit of meeting together for discussions on art, the +result of such discussions being that the English Philistine +public was roused suddenly from its ordinary apathy by hearing +that there was in its midst a body of young men who had +determined to revolutionise English painting and poetry. +They called themselves the pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.</p> +<p>In England, then as now, it was enough for a man to try and +produce any serious beautiful work to lose all his rights as a +citizen; and besides this, the pre-Raphaelite +Brotherhood—among whom the names of Dante Rossetti, Holman +Hunt and Millais will be familiar to you—had on their side +three things that the English public never forgives: youth, power +and enthusiasm.</p> +<p>Satire, always as sterile as it in shameful and as impotent as +it is insolent, paid them that usual homage which mediocrity pays +to genius—doing, here as always, infinite harm to the +public, blinding them to what is beautiful, teaching them that +irreverence which is the source of all vileness and narrowness of +life, but harming the artist not at all, rather confirming him in +the perfect rightness of his work and ambition. For to +disagree with three-fourths of the British public on all points +is one of the first elements of sanity, one of the deepest +consolations in all moments of spiritual doubt.</p> +<p>As regards the ideas these young men brought to the +regeneration of English art, we may see at the base of their +artistic creations a desire for a deeper spiritual value to be +given to art as well as a more decorative value.</p> +<p>Pre-Raphaelites they called themselves; not that they imitated +the early Italian masters at all, but that in their work, as +opposed to the facile abstractions of Raphael, they found a +stronger realism of imagination, a more careful realism of +technique, a vision at once more fervent and more vivid, an +individuality more intimate and more intense.</p> +<p>For it is not enough that a work of art should conform to the +æsthetic demands of its age: there must be also about it, +if it is to affect us with any permanent delight, the impress of +a distinct individuality, an individuality remote from that of +ordinary men, and coming near to us only by virtue of a certain +newness and wonder in the work, and through channels whose very +strangeness makes us more ready to give them welcome.</p> +<p><i>La personnalité</i>, said one of the greatest of +modern French critics, <i>voilà ce qui nous +sauvera</i>.</p> +<p>But above all things was it a return to Nature—that +formula which seems to suit so many and such diverse movements: +they would draw and paint nothing but what they saw, they would +try and imagine things as they really happened. Later there +came to the old house by Blackfriars Bridge, where this young +brotherhood used to meet and work, two young men from Oxford, +Edward Burne-Jones and William Morris—the latter +substituting for the simpler realism of the early days a more +exquisite spirit of choice, a more faultless devotion to beauty, +a more intense seeking for perfection: a master of all exquisite +design and of all spiritual vision. It is of the school of +Florence rather than of that of Venice that he is kinsman, +feeling that the close imitation of Nature is a disturbing +element in imaginative art. The visible aspect of modern +life disturbs him not; rather is it for him to render eternal all +that is beautiful in Greek, Italian, and Celtic legend. To +Morris we owe poetry whose perfect precision and clearness of +word and vision has not been excelled in the literature of our +country, and by the revival of the decorative arts he has given +to our individualised romantic movement the social idea and the +social factor also.</p> +<p>But the revolution accomplished by this clique of young men, +with Ruskin’s faultless and fervent eloquence to help them, +was not one of ideas merely but of execution, not one of +conceptions but of creations.</p> +<p>For the great eras in the history of the development of all +the arts have been eras not of increased feeling or enthusiasm in +feeling for art, but of new technical improvements primarily and +specially. The discovery of marble quarries in the purple +ravines of Pentelicus and on the little low-lying hills of the +island of Paros gave to the Greeks the opportunity for that +intensified vitality of action, that more sensuous and simple +humanism, to which the Egyptian sculptor working laboriously in +the hard porphyry and rose-coloured granite of the desert could +not attain. The splendour of the Venetian school began with +the introduction of the new oil medium for painting. The +progress in modern music has been due to the invention of new +instruments entirely, and in no way to an increased consciousness +on the part of the musician of any wider social aim. The +critic may try and trace the deferred resolutions of Beethoven <a +name="citation124"></a><a href="#footnote124" +class="citation">[124]</a> to some sense of the incompleteness of +the modern intellectual spirit, but the artist would have +answered, as one of them did afterwards, ‘Let them pick out +the fifths and leave us at peace.’</p> +<p>And so it is in poetry also: all this love of curious French +metres like the Ballade, the Villanelle, the Rondel; all this +increased value laid on elaborate alliterations, and on curious +words and refrains, such as you will find in Dante Rossetti and +Swinburne, is merely the attempt to perfect flute and viol and +trumpet through which the spirit of the age and the lips of the +poet may blow the music of their many messages.</p> +<p>And so it has been with this romantic movement of ours: it is +a reaction against the empty conventional workmanship, the lax +execution of previous poetry and painting, showing itself in the +work of such men as Rossetti and Burne-Jones by a far greater +splendour of colour, a far more intricate wonder of design than +English imaginative art has shown before. In +Rossetti’s poetry and the poetry of Morris, Swinburne and +Tennyson a perfect precision and choice of language, a style +flawless and fearless, a seeking for all sweet and precious +melodies and a sustaining consciousness of the musical value of +each word are opposed to that value which is merely +intellectual. In this respect they are one with the +romantic movement of France of which not the least characteristic +note was struck by Théophile Gautier’s advice to the +young poet to read his dictionary every day, as being the only +book worth a poet’s reading.</p> +<p>While, then, the material of workmanship is being thus +elaborated and discovered to have in itself incommunicable and +eternal qualities of its own, qualities entirely satisfying to +the poetic sense and not needing for their æsthetic effect +any lofty intellectual vision, any deep criticism of life or even +any passionate human emotion at all, the spirit and the method of +the poet’s working—what people call his +inspiration—have not escaped the controlling influence of +the artistic spirit. Not that the imagination has lost its +wings, but we have accustomed ourselves to count their +innumerable pulsations, to estimate their limitless strength, to +govern their ungovernable freedom.</p> +<p>To the Greeks this problem of the conditions of poetic +production, and the places occupied by either spontaneity or +self-consciousness in any artistic work, had a peculiar +fascination. We find it in the mysticism of Plato and in +the rationalism of Aristotle. We find it later in the +Italian Renaissance agitating the minds of such men as Leonardo +da Vinci. Schiller tried to adjust the balance between form +and feeling, and Goethe to estimate the position of +self-consciousness in art. Wordsworth’s definition of +poetry as ‘emotion remembered in tranquillity’ may be +taken as an analysis of one of the stages through which all +imaginative work has to pass; and in Keats’s longing to be +‘able to compose without this fever’ (I quote from +one of his letters), his desire to substitute for poetic ardour +‘a more thoughtful and quiet power,’ we may discern +the most important moment in the evolution of that artistic +life. The question made an early and strange appearance in +your literature too; and I need not remind you how deeply the +young poets of the French romantic movement were excited and +stirred by Edgar Allan Poe’s analysis of the workings of +his own imagination in the creating of that supreme imaginative +work which we know by the name of <i>The Raven</i>.</p> +<p>In the last century, when the intellectual and didactic +element had intruded to such an extent into the kingdom which +belongs to poetry, it was against the claims of the understanding +that an artist like Goethe had to protest. ‘The more +incomprehensible to the understanding a poem is the better for +it,’ he said once, asserting the complete supremacy of the +imagination in poetry as of reason in prose. But in this +century it is rather against the claims of the emotional +faculties, the claims of mere sentiment and feeling, that the +artist must react. The simple utterance of joy is not +poetry any more than a mere personal cry of pain, and the real +experiences of the artist are always those which do not find +their direct expression but are gathered up and absorbed into +some artistic form which seems, from such real experiences, to be +the farthest removed and the most alien.</p> +<p>‘The heart contains passion but the imagination alone +contains poetry,’ says Charles Baudelaire. This too +was the lesson that Théophile Gautier, most subtle of all +modern critics, most fascinating of all modern poets, was never +tired of teaching—‘Everybody is affected by a sunrise +or a sunset.’ The absolute distinction of the artist +is not his capacity to feel nature so much as his power of +rendering it. The entire subordination of all intellectual +and emotional faculties to the vital and informing poetic +principle is the surest sign of the strength of our +Renaissance.</p> +<p>We have seen the artistic spirit working, first in the +delightful and technical sphere of language, the sphere of +expression as opposed to subject, then controlling the +imagination of the poet in dealing with his subject. And +now I would point out to you its operation in the choice of +subject. The recognition of a separate realm for the +artist, a consciousness of the absolute difference between the +world of art and the world of real fact, between classic grace +and absolute reality, forms not merely the essential element of +any æsthetic charm but is the characteristic of all great +imaginative work and of all great eras of artistic +creation—of the age of Phidias as of the age of Michael +Angelo, of the age of Sophocles as of the age of Goethe.</p> +<p>Art never harms itself by keeping aloof from the social +problems of the day: rather, by so doing, it more completely +realises for us that which we desire. For to most of us the +real life is the life we do not lead, and thus, remaining more +true to the essence of its own perfection, more jealous of its +own unattainable beauty, is less likely to forget form in feeling +or to accept the passion of creation as any substitute for the +beauty of the created thing.</p> +<p>The artist is indeed the child of his own age, but the present +will not be to him a whit more real than the past; for, like the +philosopher of the Platonic vision, the poet is the spectator of +all time and of all existence. For him no form is obsolete, +no subject out of date; rather, whatever of life and passion the +world has known, in desert of Judæa or in Arcadian valley, +by the rivers of Troy or the rivers of Damascus, in the crowded +and hideous streets of a modern city or by the pleasant ways of +Camelot—all lies before him like an open scroll, all is +still instinct with beautiful life. He will take of it what +is salutary for his own spirit, no more; choosing some facts and +rejecting others with the calm artistic control of one who is in +possession of the secret of beauty.</p> +<p>There is indeed a poetical attitude to be adopted towards all +things, but all things are not fit subjects for poetry. +Into the secure and sacred house of Beauty the true artist will +admit nothing that is harsh or disturbing, nothing that gives +pain, nothing that is debatable, nothing about which men +argue. He can steep himself, if he wishes, in the +discussion of all the social problems of his day, poor-laws and +local taxation, free trade and bimetallic currency, and the like; +but when he writes on these subjects it will be, as Milton nobly +expressed it, with his left hand, in prose and not in verse, in a +pamphlet and not in a lyric. This exquisite spirit of +artistic choice was not in Byron: Wordsworth had it not. In +the work of both these men there is much that we have to reject, +much that does not give us that sense of calm and perfect repose +which should be the effect of all fine, imaginative work. +But in Keats it seemed to have been incarnate, and in his lovely +<i>Ode on a Grecian Urn</i> it found its most secure and +faultless expression; in the pageant of the <i>Earthly +Paradise</i> and the knights and ladies of Burne-Jones it is the +one dominant note.</p> +<p>It is to no avail that the Muse of Poetry be called, even by +such a clarion note as Whitman’s, to migrate from Greece +and Ionia and to placard <span class="GutSmall">REMOVED</span> +and <span class="GutSmall">TO LET</span> on the rocks of the +snowy Parnassus. Calliope’s call is not yet closed, +nor are the epics of Asia ended; the Sphinx is not yet silent, +nor the fountain of Castaly dry. For art is very life +itself and knows nothing of death; she is absolute truth and +takes no care of fact; she sees (as I remember Mr. Swinburne +insisting on at dinner) that Achilles is even now more actual and +real than Wellington, not merely more noble and interesting as a +type and figure but more positive and real.</p> +<p>Literature must rest always on a principle, and temporal +considerations are no principle at all. For to the poet all +times and places are one; the stuff he deals with is eternal and +eternally the same: no theme is inept, no past or present +preferable. The steam whistle will not affright him nor the +flutes of Arcadia weary him: for him there is but one time, the +artistic moment; but one law, the law of form; but one land, the +land of Beauty—a land removed indeed from the real world +and yet more sensuous because more enduring; calm, yet with that +calm which dwells in the faces of the Greek statues, the calm +which comes not from the rejection but from the absorption of +passion, the calm which despair and sorrow cannot disturb but +intensify only. And so it comes that he who seems to stand +most remote from his age is he who mirrors it best, because he +has stripped life of what is accidental and transitory, stripped +it of that ‘mist of familiarity which makes life obscure to +us.’</p> +<p>Those strange, wild-eyed sibyls fixed eternally in the +whirlwind of ecstasy, those mighty-limbed and Titan prophets, +labouring with the secret of the earth and the burden of mystery, +that guard and glorify the chapel of Pope Sixtus at Rome—do +they not tell us more of the real spirit of the Italian +Renaissance, of the dream of Savonarola and of the sin of Borgia, +than all the brawling boors and cooking women of Dutch art can +teach us of the real spirit of the history of Holland?</p> +<p>And so in our own day, also, the two most vital tendencies of +the nineteenth century—the democratic and pantheistic +tendency and the tendency to value life for the sake of +art—found their most complete and perfect utterance in the +poetry of Shelley and Keats who, to the blind eyes of their own +time, seemed to be as wanderers in the wilderness, preachers of +vague or unreal things. And I remember once, in talking to +Mr. Burne-Jones about modern science, his saying to me, +‘the more materialistic science becomes, the more angels +shall I paint: their wings are my protest in favour of the +immortality of the soul.’</p> +<p>But these are the intellectual speculations that underlie +art. Where in the arts themselves are we to find that +breadth of human sympathy which is the condition of all noble +work; where in the arts are we to look for what Mazzini would +call the social ideas as opposed to the merely personal +ideas? By virtue of what claim do I demand for the artist +the love and loyalty of the men and women of the world? I +think I can answer that.</p> +<p>Whatever spiritual message an artist brings to his aid is a +matter for his own soul. He may bring judgment like Michael +Angelo or peace like Angelico; he may come with mourning like the +great Athenian or with mirth like the singer of Sicily; nor is it +for us to do aught but accept his teaching, knowing that we +cannot smite the bitter lips of Leopardi into laughter or burden +with our discontent Goethe’s serene calm. But for +warrant of its truth such message must have the flame of +eloquence in the lips that speak it, splendour and glory in the +vision that is its witness, being justified by one thing +only—the flawless beauty and perfect form of its +expression: this indeed being the social idea, being the meaning +of joy in art.</p> +<p>Not laughter where none should laugh, nor the calling of peace +where there is no peace; not in painting the subject ever, but +the pictorial charm only, the wonder of its colour, the +satisfying beauty of its design.</p> +<p>You have most of you seen, probably, that great masterpiece of +Rubens which hangs in the gallery of Brussels, that swift and +wonderful pageant of horse and rider arrested in its most +exquisite and fiery moment when the winds are caught in crimson +banner and the air lit by the gleam of armour and the flash of +plume. Well, that is joy in art, though that golden +hillside be trodden by the wounded feet of Christ and it is for +the death of the Son of Man that that gorgeous cavalcade is +passing.</p> +<p>But this restless modern intellectual spirit of ours is not +receptive enough of the sensuous element of art; and so the real +influence of the arts is hidden from many of us: only a few, +escaping from the tyranny of the soul, have learned the secret of +those high hours when thought is not.</p> +<p>And this indeed is the reason of the influence which Eastern +art is having on us in Europe, and of the fascination of all +Japanese work. While the Western world has been laying on +art the intolerable burden of its own intellectual doubts and the +spiritual tragedy of its own sorrows, the East has always kept +true to art’s primary and pictorial conditions.</p> +<p>In judging of a beautiful statue the æsthetic faculty is +absolutely and completely gratified by the splendid curves of +those marble lips that are dumb to our complaint, the noble +modelling of those limbs that are powerless to help us. In +its primary aspect a painting has no more spiritual message or +meaning than an exquisite fragment of Venetian glass or a blue +tile from the wall of Damascus: it is a beautifully coloured +surface, nothing more. The channels by which all noble +imaginative work in painting should touch, and do touch the soul, +are not those of the truths of life, nor metaphysical +truths. But that pictorial charm which does not depend on +any literary reminiscence for its effect on the one hand, nor is +yet a mere result of communicable technical skill on the other, +comes of a certain inventive and creative handling of +colour. Nearly always in Dutch painting and often in the +works of Giorgione or Titian, it is entirely independent of +anything definitely poetical in the subject, a kind of form and +choice in workmanship which is itself entirely satisfying, and is +(as the Greeks would say) an end in itself.</p> +<p>And so in poetry too, the real poetical quality, the joy of +poetry, comes never from the subject but from an inventive +handling of rhythmical language, from what Keats called the +‘sensuous life of verse.’ The element of song +in the singing accompanied by the profound joy of motion, is so +sweet that, while the incomplete lives of ordinary men bring no +healing power with them, the thorn-crown of the poet will blossom +into roses for our pleasure; for our delight his despair will +gild its own thorns, and his pain, like Adonis, be beautiful in +its agony; and when the poet’s heart breaks it will break +in music.</p> +<p>And health in art—what is that? It has nothing to +do with a sane criticism of life. There is more health in +Baudelaire than there is in [Kingsley]. Health is the +artist’s recognition of the limitations of the form in +which he works. It is the honour and the homage which he +gives to the material he uses—whether it be language with +its glories, or marble or pigment with their +glories—knowing that the true brotherhood of the arts +consists not in their borrowing one another’s method, but +in their producing, each of them by its own individual means, +each of them by keeping its objective limits, the same unique +artistic delight. The delight is like that given to us by +music—for music is the art in which form and matter are +always one, the art whose subject cannot be separated from the +method of its expression, the art which most completely realises +the artistic ideal, and is the condition to which all the other +arts are constantly aspiring.</p> +<p>And criticism—what place is that to have in our +culture? Well, I think that the first duty of an art critic +is to hold his tongue at all times, and upon all subjects: +<i>C’est un grand avantage de n’avoir rien fait</i>, +<i>mais il ne faut pas en abuser</i>.</p> +<p>It is only through the mystery of creation that one can gain +any knowledge of the quality of created things. You have +listened to <i>Patience</i> for a hundred nights and you have +heard me for one only. It will make, no doubt, that satire +more piquant by knowing something about the subject of it, but +you must not judge of æstheticism by the satire of Mr. +Gilbert. As little should you judge of the strength and +splendour of sun or sea by the dust that dances in the beam, or +the bubble that breaks on the wave, as take your critic for any +sane test of art. For the artists, like the Greek gods, are +revealed only to one another, as Emerson says somewhere; their +real value and place time only can show. In this respect +also omnipotence is with the ages. The true critic +addresses not the artist ever but the public only. His work +lies with them. Art can never have any other claim but her +own perfection: it is for the critic to create for art the social +aim, too, by teaching the people the spirit in which they are to +approach all artistic work, the love they are to give it, the +lesson they are to draw from it.</p> +<p>All these appeals to art to set herself more in harmony with +modern progress and civilisation, and to make herself the +mouthpiece for the voice of humanity, these appeals to art +‘to have a mission,’ are appeals which should be made +to the public. The art which has fulfilled the conditions +of beauty has fulfilled all conditions: it is for the critic to +teach the people how to find in the calm of such art the highest +expression of their own most stormy passions. ‘I have +no reverence,’ said Keats, ‘for the public, nor for +anything in existence but the Eternal Being, the memory of great +men and the principle of Beauty.’</p> +<p>Such then is the principle which I believe to be guiding and +underlying our English Renaissance, a Renaissance many-sided and +wonderful, productive of strong ambitions and lofty +personalities, yet for all its splendid achievements in poetry +and in the decorative arts and in painting, for all the increased +comeliness and grace of dress, and the furniture of houses and +the like, not complete. For there can be no great sculpture +without a beautiful national life, and the commercial spirit of +England has killed that; no great drama without a noble national +life, and the commercial spirit of England has killed that +too.</p> +<p>It is not that the flawless serenity of marble cannot bear the +burden of the modern intellectual spirit, or become instinct with +the fire of romantic passion—the tomb of Duke Lorenzo and +the chapel of the Medici show us that—but it is that, as +Théophile Gautier used to say, the visible world is dead, +<i>le monde visible a disparu</i>.</p> +<p>Nor is it again that the novel has killed the play, as some +critics would persuade us—the romantic movement of France +shows us that. The work of Balzac and of Hugo grew up side +by side together; nay, more, were complementary to each other, +though neither of them saw it. While all other forms of +poetry may flourish in an ignoble age, the splendid individualism +of the lyrist, fed by its own passion, and lit by its own power, +may pass as a pillar of fire as well across the desert as across +places that are pleasant. It is none the less glorious +though no man follow it—nay, by the greater sublimity of +its loneliness it may be quickened into loftier utterance and +intensified into clearer song. From the mean squalor of the +sordid life that limits him, the dreamer or the idyllist may soar +on poesy’s viewless wings, may traverse with fawn-skin and +spear the moonlit heights of Cithæron though Faun and +Bassarid dance there no more. Like Keats he may wander +through the old-world forests of Latmos, or stand like Morris on +the galley’s deck with the Viking when king and galley have +long since passed away. But the drama is the meeting-place +of art and life; it deals, as Mazzini said, not merely with man, +but with social man, with man in his relation to God and to +Humanity. It is the product of a period of great national +united energy; it is impossible without a noble public, and +belongs to such ages as the age of Elizabeth in London and of +Pericles at Athens; it is part of such lofty moral and spiritual +ardour as came to Greek after the defeat of the Persian fleet, +and to Englishman after the wreck of the Armada of Spain.</p> +<p>Shelley felt how incomplete our movement was in this respect, +and has shown in one great tragedy by what terror and pity he +would have purified our age; but in spite of <i>The Cenci</i> the +drama is one of the artistic forms through which the genius of +the England of this century seeks in vain to find outlet and +expression. He has had no worthy imitators.</p> +<p>It is rather, perhaps, to you that we should turn to complete +and perfect this great movement of ours, for there is something +Hellenic in your air and world, something that has a quicker +breath of the joy and power of Elizabeth’s England about it +than our ancient civilisation can give us. For you, at +least, are young; ‘no hungry generations tread you +down,’ and the past does not weary you with the intolerable +burden of its memories nor mock you with the ruins of a beauty, +the secret of whose creation you have lost. That very +absence of tradition, which Mr. Ruskin thought would rob your +rivers of their laughter and your flowers of their light, may be +rather the source of your freedom and your strength.</p> +<p>To speak in literature with the perfect rectitude and +insouciance of the movements of animals, and the +unimpeachableness of the sentiment of trees in the woods and +grass by the roadside, has been defined by one of your poets as a +flawless triumph of art. It is a triumph which you above +all nations may be destined to achieve. For the voices that +have their dwelling in sea and mountain are not the chosen music +of Liberty only; other messages are there in the wonder of +wind-swept height and the majesty of silent deep—messages +that, if you will but listen to them, may yield you the splendour +of some new imagination, the marvel of some new beauty.</p> +<p>‘I foresee,’ said Goethe, ‘the dawn of a new +literature which all people may claim as their own, for all have +contributed to its foundation.’ If, then, this is so, +and if the materials for a civilisation as great as that of +Europe lie all around you, what profit, you will ask me, will all +this study of our poets and painters be to you? I might +answer that the intellect can be engaged without direct didactic +object on an artistic and historical problem; that the demand of +the intellect is merely to feel itself alive; that nothing which +has ever interested men or women can cease to be a fit subject +for culture.</p> +<p>I might remind you of what all Europe owes to the sorrow of a +single Florentine in exile at Verona, or to the love of Petrarch +by that little well in Southern France; nay, more, how even in +this dull, materialistic age the simple expression of an old +man’s simple life, passed away from the clamour of great +cities amid the lakes and misty hills of Cumberland, has opened +out for England treasures of new joy compared with which the +treasures of her luxury are as barren as the sea which she has +made her highway, and as bitter as the fire which she would make +her slave.</p> +<p>But I think it will bring you something besides this, +something that is the knowledge of real strength in art: not that +you should imitate the works of these men; but their artistic +spirit, their artistic attitude, I think you should absorb +that.</p> +<p>For in nations, as in individuals, if the passion for creation +be not accompanied by the critical, the æsthetic faculty +also, it will be sure to waste its strength aimlessly, failing +perhaps in the artistic spirit of choice, or in the mistaking of +feeling for form, or in the following of false ideals.</p> +<p>For the various spiritual forms of the imagination have a +natural affinity with certain sensuous forms of art—and to +discern the qualities of each art, to intensify as well its +limitations as its powers of expression, is one of the aims that +culture sets before us. It is not an increased moral sense, +an increased moral supervision that your literature needs. +Indeed, one should never talk of a moral or an immoral +poem—poems are either well written or badly written, that +is all. And, indeed, any element of morals or implied +reference to a standard of good or evil in art is often a sign of +a certain incompleteness of vision, often a note of discord in +the harmony of an imaginative creation; for all good work aims at +a purely artistic effect. ‘We must be careful,’ +said Goethe, ‘not to be always looking for culture merely +in what is obviously moral. Everything that is great +promotes civilisation as soon as we are aware of it.’</p> +<p>But, as in your cities so in your literature, it is a +permanent canon and standard of taste, an increased sensibility +to beauty (if I may say so) that is lacking. All noble work +is not national merely, but universal. The political +independence of a nation must not be confused with any +intellectual isolation. The spiritual freedom, indeed, your +own generous lives and liberal air will give you. From us +you will learn the classical restraint of form.</p> +<p>For all great art is delicate art, roughness having very +little to do with strength, and harshness very little to do with +power. ‘The artist,’ as Mr. Swinburne says, +‘must be perfectly articulate.’</p> +<p>This limitation is for the artist perfect freedom: it is at +once the origin and the sign of his strength. So that all +the supreme masters of style—Dante, Sophocles, +Shakespeare—are the supreme masters of spiritual and +intellectual vision also.</p> +<p>Love art for its own sake, and then all things that you need +will be added to you.</p> +<p>This devotion to beauty and to the creation of beautiful +things is the test of all great civilised nations. +Philosophy may teach us to bear with equanimity the misfortunes +of our neighbours, and science resolve the moral sense into a +secretion of sugar, but art is what makes the life of each +citizen a sacrament and not a speculation, art is what makes the +life of the whole race immortal.</p> +<p>For beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm. +Philosophies fall away like sand, and creeds follow one another +like the withered leaves of autumn; but what is beautiful is a +joy for all seasons and a possession for all eternity.</p> +<p>Wars and the clash of armies and the meeting of men in battle +by trampled field or leaguered city, and the rising of nations +there must always be. But I think that art, by creating a +common intellectual atmosphere between all countries, +might—if it could not overshadow the world with the silver +wings of peace—at least make men such brothers that they +would not go out to slay one another for the whim or folly of +some king or minister, as they do in Europe. Fraternity +would come no more with the hands of Cain, nor Liberty betray +freedom with the kiss of Anarchy; for national hatreds are always +strongest where culture is lowest.</p> +<p>‘How could I?’ said Goethe, when reproached for +not writing like Korner against the French. ‘How +could I, to whom barbarism and culture alone are of importance, +hate a nation which is among the most cultivated of the earth, a +nation to which I owe a great part of my own +cultivation?’</p> +<p>Mighty empires, too, there must always be as long as personal +ambition and the spirit of the age are one, but art at least is +the only empire which a nation’s enemies cannot take from +her by conquest, but which is taken by submission only. The +sovereignty of Greece and Rome is not yet passed away, though the +gods of the one be dead and the eagles of the other tired.</p> +<p>And we in our Renaissance are seeking to create a sovereignty +that will still be England’s when her yellow leopards have +grown weary of wars and the rose of her shield is crimsoned no +more with the blood of battle; and you, too, absorbing into the +generous heart of a great people this pervading artistic spirit, +will create for yourselves such riches as you have never yet +created, though your land be a network of railways and your +cities the harbours for the galleys of the world.</p> +<p>I know, indeed, that the divine natural prescience of beauty +which is the inalienable inheritance of Greek and Italian is not +our inheritance. For such an informing and presiding spirit +of art to shield us from all harsh and alien influences, we of +the Northern races must turn rather to that strained +self-consciousness of our age which, as it is the key-note of all +our romantic art, must be the source of all or nearly all our +culture. I mean that intellectual curiosity of the +nineteenth century which is always looking for the secret of the +life that still lingers round old and bygone forms of +culture. It takes from each what is serviceable for the +modern spirit—from Athens its wonder without its worship, +from Venice its splendour without its sin. The same spirit +is always analysing its own strength and its own weakness, +counting what it owes to East and to West, to the olive-trees of +Colonus and to the palm-trees of Lebanon, to Gethsemane and to +the garden of Proserpine.</p> +<p>And yet the truths of art cannot be taught: they are revealed +only, revealed to natures which have made themselves receptive of +all beautiful impressions by the study and worship of all +beautiful things. And hence the enormous importance given +to the decorative arts in our English Renaissance; hence all that +marvel of design that comes from the hand of Edward Burne-Jones, +all that weaving of tapestry and staining of glass, that +beautiful working in clay and metal and wood which we owe to +William Morris, the greatest handicraftsman we have had in +England since the fourteenth century.</p> +<p>So, in years to come there will be nothing in any man’s +house which has not given delight to its maker and does not give +delight to its user. The children, like the children of +Plato’s perfect city, will grow up ‘in a simple +atmosphere of all fair things’—I quote from the +passage in the <i>Republic</i>—‘a simple atmosphere +of all fair things, where beauty, which is the spirit of art, +will come on eye and ear like a fresh breath of wind that brings +health from a clear upland, and insensibly and gradually draw the +child’s soul into harmony with all knowledge and all +wisdom, so that he will love what is beautiful and good, and hate +what is evil and ugly (for they always go together) long before +he knows the reason why; and then when reason comes will kiss her +on the cheek as a friend.’</p> +<p>That is what Plato thought decorative art could do for a +nation, feeling that the secret not of philosophy merely but of +all gracious existence might be externally hidden from any one +whose youth had been passed in uncomely and vulgar surroundings, +and that the beauty of form and colour even, as he says, in the +meanest vessels of the house, will find its way into the inmost +places of the soul and lead the boy naturally to look for that +divine harmony of spiritual life of which art was to him the +material symbol and warrant.</p> +<p>Prelude indeed to all knowledge and all wisdom will this love +of beautiful things be for us; yet there are times when wisdom +becomes a burden and knowledge is one with sorrow: for as every +body has its shadow so every soul has its scepticism. In +such dread moments of discord and despair where should we, of +this torn and troubled age, turn our steps if not to that secure +house of beauty where there is always a little forgetfulness, +always a great joy; to that <i>città divina</i>, as the +old Italian heresy called it, the divine city where one can +stand, though only for a brief moment, apart from the division +and terror of the world and the choice of the world too?</p> +<p>This is that <i>consolation des arts</i> which is the key-note +of Gautier’s poetry, the secret of modern life +foreshadowed—as indeed what in our century is not?—by +Goethe. You remember what he said to the German people: +‘Only have the courage,’ he said, ‘to give +yourselves up to your impressions, allow yourselves to be +delighted, moved, elevated, nay instructed, inspired for +something great.’ The courage to give yourselves up +to your impressions: yes, that is the secret of the artistic +life—for while art has been defined as an escape from the +tyranny of the senses, it is an escape rather from the tyranny of +the soul. But only to those who worship her above all +things does she ever reveal her true treasure: else will she be +as powerless to aid you as the mutilated Venus of the Louvre was +before the romantic but sceptical nature of Heine.</p> +<p>And indeed I think it would be impossible to overrate the gain +that might follow if we had about us only what gave pleasure to +the maker of it and gives pleasure to its user, that being the +simplest of all rules about decoration. One thing, at +least, I think it would do for us: there is no surer test of a +great country than how near it stands to its own poets; but +between the singers of our day and the workers to whom they would +sing there seems to be an ever-widening and dividing chasm, a +chasm which slander and mockery cannot traverse, but which is +spanned by the luminous wings of love.</p> +<p>And of such love I think that the abiding presence in our +houses of noble imaginative work would be the surest seed and +preparation. I do not mean merely as regards that direct +literary expression of art by which, from the little +red-and-black cruse of oil or wine, a Greek boy could learn of +the lionlike splendour of Achilles, of the strength of Hector and +the beauty of Paris and the wonder of Helen, long before he stood +and listened in crowded market-place or in theatre of marble; or +by which an Italian child of the fifteenth century could know of +the chastity of Lucrece and the death of Camilla from carven +doorway and from painted chest. For the good we get from +art is not what we learn from it; it is what we become through +it. Its real influence will be in giving the mind that +enthusiasm which is the secret of Hellenism, accustoming it to +demand from art all that art can do in rearranging the facts of +common life for us—whether it be by giving the most +spiritual interpretation of one’s own moments of highest +passion or the most sensuous expression of those thoughts that +are the farthest removed from sense; in accustoming it to love +the things of the imagination for their own sake, and to desire +beauty and grace in all things. For he who does not love +art in all things does not love it at all, and he who does not +need art in all things does not need it at all.</p> +<p>I will not dwell here on what I am sure has delighted you all +in our great Gothic cathedrals. I mean how the artist of +that time, handicraftsman himself in stone or glass, found the +best motives for his art, always ready for his hand and always +beautiful, in the daily work of the artificers he saw around +him—as in those lovely windows of Chartres—where the +dyer dips in the vat and the potter sits at the wheel, and the +weaver stands at the loom: real manufacturers these, workers with +the hand, and entirely delightful to look at, not like the smug +and vapid shopman of our time, who knows nothing of the web or +vase he sells, except that he is charging you double its value +and thinking you a fool for buying it. Nor can I but just +note, in passing, the immense influence the decorative work of +Greece and Italy had on its artists, the one teaching the +sculptor that restraining influence of design which is the glory +of the Parthenon, the other keeping painting always true to its +primary, pictorial condition of noble colour which is the secret +of the school of Venice; for I wish rather, in this lecture at +least, to dwell on the effect that decorative art has on human +life—on its social not its purely artistic effect.</p> +<p>There are two kinds of men in the world, two great creeds, two +different forms of natures: men to whom the end of life is +action, and men to whom the end of life is thought. As +regards the latter, who seek for experience itself and not for +the fruits of experience, who must burn always with one of the +passions of this fiery-coloured world, who find life interesting +not for its secret but for its situations, for its pulsations and +not for its purpose; the passion for beauty engendered by the +decorative arts will be to them more satisfying than any +political or religious enthusiasm, any enthusiasm for humanity, +any ecstasy or sorrow for love. For art comes to one +professing primarily to give nothing but the highest quality to +one’s moments, and for those moments’ sake. So +far for those to whom the end of life is thought. As +regards the others, who hold that life is inseparable from +labour, to them should this movement be specially dear: for, if +our days are barren without industry, industry without art is +barbarism.</p> +<p>Hewers of wood and drawers of water there must be always +indeed among us. Our modern machinery has not much +lightened the labour of man after all: but at least let the +pitcher that stands by the well be beautiful and surely the +labour of the day will be lightened: let the wood be made +receptive of some lovely form, some gracious design, and there +will come no longer discontent but joy to the toiler. For +what is decoration but the worker’s expression of joy in +his work? And not joy merely—that is a great thing +yet not enough—but that opportunity of expressing his own +individuality which, as it is the essence of all life, is the +source of all art. ‘I have tried,’ I remember +William Morris saying to me once, ‘I have tried to make +each of my workers an artist, and when I say an artist I mean a +man.’ For the worker then, handicraftsman of whatever +kind he is, art is no longer to be a purple robe woven by a slave +and thrown over the whitened body of a leprous king to hide and +to adorn the sin of his luxury, but rather the beautiful and +noble expression of a life that has in it something beautiful and +noble.</p> +<p>And so you must seek out your workman and give him, as far as +possible, the right surroundings, for remember that the real test +and virtue of a workman is not his earnestness nor his industry +even, but his power of design merely; and that ‘design is +not the offspring of idle fancy: it is the studied result of +accumulative observation and delightful habit.’ All +the teaching in the world is of no avail if you do not surround +your workman with happy influences and with beautiful +things. It is impossible for him to have right ideas about +colour unless he sees the lovely colours of Nature unspoiled; +impossible for him to supply beautiful incident and action unless +he sees beautiful incident and action in the world about him.</p> +<p>For to cultivate sympathy you must be among living things and +thinking about them, and to cultivate admiration you must be +among beautiful things and looking at them. ‘The +steel of Toledo and the silk of Genoa did but give strength to +oppression and lustre to pride,’ as Mr. Ruskin says; let it +be for you to create an art that is made by the hands of the +people for the joy of the people, to please the hearts of the +people, too; an art that will be your expression of your delight +in life. There is nothing ‘in common life too mean, +in common things too trivial to be ennobled by your touch’; +nothing in life that art cannot sanctify.</p> +<p>You have heard, I think, a few of you, of two flowers +connected with the æsthetic movement in England, and said +(I assure you, erroneously) to be the food of some æsthetic +young men. Well, let me tell you that the reason we love +the lily and the sunflower, in spite of what Mr. Gilbert may tell +you, is not for any vegetable fashion at all. It is because +these two lovely flowers are in England the two most perfect +models of design, the most naturally adapted for decorative +art—the gaudy leonine beauty of the one and the precious +loveliness of the other giving to the artist the most entire and +perfect joy. And so with you: let there be no flower in +your meadows that does not wreathe its tendrils around your +pillows, no little leaf in your Titan forests that does not lend +its form to design, no curving spray of wild rose or brier that +does not live for ever in carven arch or window or marble, no +bird in your air that is not giving the iridescent wonder of its +colour, the exquisite curves of its wings in flight, to make more +precious the preciousness of simple adornment.</p> +<p>We spend our days, each one of us, in looking for the secret +of life. Well, the secret of life is in art.</p> +<h2><a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +157</span>HOUSE DECORATION</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">A lecture delivered in America during +Wilde’s tour in 1882. It was announced as a lecture +on ‘The Practical Application of the Principles of +Æsthetic Theory to Exterior and Interior House Decoration, +With Observations upon Dress and Personal Ornaments.’ +The earliest date on which it is known to have been given is May +11, 1882.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> my last lecture I gave you +something of the history of Art in England. I sought to +trace the influence of the French Revolution upon its +development. I said something of the song of Keats and the +school of the pre-Raphaelites. But I do not want to shelter +the movement, which I have called the English Renaissance, under +any palladium however noble, or any name however revered. +The roots of it have, indeed, to be sought for in things that +have long passed away, and not, as some suppose, in the fancy of +a few young men—although I am not altogether sure that +there is anything much better than the fancy of a few young +men.</p> +<p>When I appeared before you on a previous occasion, I had seen +nothing of American art save the Doric columns and Corinthian +chimney-pots visible on your Broadway and Fifth Avenue. +Since then, I have been through your country to some fifty or +sixty different cities, I think. I find that what your +people need is not so much high imaginative art but that which +hallows the vessels of everyday use. I suppose that the +poet will sing and the artist will paint regardless whether the +world praises or blames. He has his own world and is +independent of his fellow-men. But the handicraftsman is +dependent on your pleasure and opinion. He needs your +encouragement and he must have beautiful surroundings. Your +people love art but do not sufficiently honour the +handicraftsman. Of course, those millionaires who can +pillage Europe for their pleasure need have no care to encourage +such; but I speak for those whose desire for beautiful things is +larger than their means. I find that one great trouble all +over is that your workmen are not given to noble designs. +You cannot be indifferent to this, because Art is not something +which you can take or leave. It is a necessity of human +life.</p> +<p>And what is the meaning of this beautiful decoration which we +call art? In the first place, it means value to the workman +and it means the pleasure which he must necessarily take in +making a beautiful thing. The mark of all good art is not +that the thing done is done exactly or finely, for machinery may +do as much, but that it is worked out with the head and the +workman’s heart. I cannot impress the point too +frequently that beautiful and rational designs are necessary in +all work. I did not imagine, until I went into some of your +simpler cities, that there was so much bad work done. I +found, where I went, bad wall-papers horribly designed, and +coloured carpets, and that old offender the horse-hair sofa, +whose stolid look of indifference is always so depressing. +I found meaningless chandeliers and machine-made furniture, +generally of rosewood, which creaked dismally under the weight of +the ubiquitous interviewer. I came across the small iron +stove which they always persist in decorating with machine-made +ornaments, and which is as great a bore as a wet day or any other +particularly dreadful institution. When unusual +extravagance was indulged in, it was garnished with two funeral +urns.</p> +<p>It must always be remembered that what is well and carefully +made by an honest workman, after a rational design, increases in +beauty and value as the years go on. The old furniture +brought over by the Pilgrims, two hundred years ago, which I saw +in New England, is just as good and as beautiful to-day as it was +when it first came here. Now, what you must do is to bring +artists and handicraftsmen together. Handicraftsmen cannot +live, certainly cannot thrive, without such companionship. +Separate these two and you rob art of all spiritual motive.</p> +<p>Having done this, you must place your workman in the midst of +beautiful surroundings. The artist is not dependent on the +visible and the tangible. He has his visions and his dreams +to feed on. But the workman must see lovely forms as he +goes to his work in the morning and returns at eventide. +And, in connection with this, I want to assure you that noble and +beautiful designs are never the result of idle fancy or +purposeless day-dreaming. They come only as the +accumulation of habits of long and delightful observation. +And yet such things may not be taught. Right ideas +concerning them can certainly be obtained only by those who have +been accustomed to rooms that are beautiful and colours that are +satisfying.</p> +<p>Perhaps one of the most difficult things for us to do is to +choose a notable and joyous dress for men. There would be +more joy in life if we were to accustom ourselves to use all the +beautiful colours we can in fashioning our own clothes. The +dress of the future, I think, will use drapery to a great extent +and will abound with joyous colour. At present we have lost +all nobility of dress and, in doing so, have almost annihilated +the modern sculptor. And, in looking around at the figures +which adorn our parks, one could almost wish that we had +completely killed the noble art. To see the frock-coat of +the drawing-room done in bronze, or the double waistcoat +perpetuated in marble, adds a new horror to death. But +indeed, in looking through the history of costume, seeking an +answer to the questions we have propounded, there is little that +is either beautiful or appropriate. One of the earliest +forms is the Greek drapery which is exquisite for young +girls. And then, I think we may be pardoned a little +enthusiasm over the dress of the time of Charles I., so beautiful +indeed, that in spite of its invention being with the Cavaliers +it was copied by the Puritans. And the dress for the +children of that time must not be passed over. It was a +very golden age of the little ones. I do not think that +they have ever looked so lovely as they do in the pictures of +that time. The dress of the last century in England is also +peculiarly gracious and graceful. There is nothing bizarre +or strange about it, but it is full of harmony and beauty. +In these days, when we have suffered dreadfully from the +incursions of the modern milliner, we hear ladies boast that they +do not wear a dress more than once. In the old days, when +the dresses were decorated with beautiful designs and worked with +exquisite embroidery, ladies rather took a pride in bringing out +the garment and wearing it many times and handing it down to +their daughters—a process that would, I think, be quite +appreciated by a modern husband when called upon to settle his +wife’s bills.</p> +<p>And how shall men dress? Men say that they do not +particularly care how they dress, and that it is little +matter. I am bound to reply that I do not think that you +do. In all my journeys through the country, the only +well-dressed men that I saw—and in saying this I earnestly +deprecate the polished indignation of your Fifth Avenue +dandies—were the Western miners. Their wide-brimmed +hats, which shaded their faces from the sun and protected them +from the rain, and the cloak, which is by far the most beautiful +piece of drapery ever invented, may well be dwelt on with +admiration. Their high boots, too, were sensible and +practical. They wore only what was comfortable, and +therefore beautiful. As I looked at them I could not help +thinking with regret of the time when these picturesque miners +would have made their fortunes and would go East to assume again +all the abominations of modern fashionable attire. Indeed, +so concerned was I that I made some of them promise that when +they again appeared in the more crowded scenes of Eastern +civilisation they would still continue to wear their lovely +costume. But I do not believe they will.</p> +<p>Now, what America wants to-day is a school of rational +art. Bad art is a great deal worse than no art at +all. You must show your workmen specimens of good work so +that they come to know what is simple and true and +beautiful. To that end I would have you have a museum +attached to these schools—not one of those dreadful modern +institutions where there is a stuffed and very dusty giraffe, and +a case or two of fossils, but a place where there are gathered +examples of art decoration from various periods and +countries. Such a place is the South Kensington Museum in +London, whereon we build greater hopes for the future than on any +other one thing. There I go every Saturday night, when the +museum is open later than usual, to see the handicraftsman, the +wood-worker, the glass-blower and the worker in metals. And +it is here that the man of refinement and culture comes face to +face with the workman who ministers to his joy. He comes to +know more of the nobility of the workman, and the workman, +feeling the appreciation, comes to know more of the nobility of +his work.</p> +<p>You have too many white walls. More colour is +wanted. You should have such men as Whistler among you to +teach you the beauty and joy of colour. Take Mr. +Whistler’s ‘Symphony in White,’ which you no +doubt have imagined to be something quite bizarre. It is +nothing of the sort. Think of a cool grey sky flecked here +and there with white clouds, a grey ocean and three wonderfully +beautiful figures robed in white, leaning over the water and +dropping white flowers from their fingers. Here is no +extensive intellectual scheme to trouble you, and no metaphysics +of which we have had quite enough in art. But if the simple +and unaided colour strike the right key-note, the whole +conception is made clear. I regard Mr. Whistler’s +famous Peacock Room as the finest thing in colour and art +decoration which the world has known since Correggio painted that +wonderful room in Italy where the little children are dancing on +the walls. Mr. Whistler finished another room just before I +came away—a breakfast room in blue and yellow. The +ceiling was a light blue, the cabinet-work and the furniture were +of a yellow wood, the curtains at the windows were white and +worked in yellow, and when the table was set for breakfast with +dainty blue china nothing can be conceived at once so simple and +so joyous.</p> +<p>The fault which I have observed in most of your rooms is that +there is apparent no definite scheme of colour. Everything +is not attuned to a key-note as it should be. The +apartments are crowded with pretty things which have no relation +to one another. Again, your artists must decorate what is +more simply useful. In your art schools I found no attempt +to decorate such things as the vessels for water. I know of +nothing uglier than the ordinary jug or pitcher. A museum +could be filled with the different kinds of water vessels which +are used in hot countries. Yet we continue to submit to the +depressing jug with the handle all on one side. I do not +see the wisdom of decorating dinner-plates with sunsets and +soup-plates with moonlight scenes. I do not think it adds +anything to the pleasure of the canvas-back duck to take it out +of such glories. Besides, we do not want a soup-plate whose +bottom seems to vanish in the distance. One feels neither +safe nor comfortable under such conditions. In fact, I did +not find in the art schools of the country that the difference +was explained between decorative and imaginative art.</p> +<p>The conditions of art should be simple. A great deal +more depends upon the heart than upon the head. +Appreciation of art is not secured by any elaborate scheme of +learning. Art requires a good healthy atmosphere. The +motives for art are still around about us as they were round +about the ancients. And the subjects are also easily found +by the earnest sculptor and the painter. Nothing is more +picturesque and graceful than a man at work. The artist who +goes to the children’s playground, watches them at their +sport and sees the boy stoop to tie his shoe, will find the same +themes that engaged the attention of the ancient Greeks, and such +observation and the illustrations which follow will do much to +correct that foolish impression that mental and physical beauty +are always divorced.</p> +<p>To you, more than perhaps to any other country, has Nature +been generous in furnishing material for art workers to work +in. You have marble quarries where the stone is more +beautiful in colour than any the Greeks ever had for their +beautiful work, and yet day after day I am confronted with the +great building of some stupid man who has used the beautiful +material as if it were not precious almost beyond speech. +Marble should not be used save by noble workmen. There is +nothing which gave me a greater sense of barrenness in travelling +through the country than the entire absence of wood carving on +your houses. Wood carving is the simplest of the decorative +arts. In Switzerland the little barefooted boy beautifies +the porch of his father’s house with examples of skill in +this direction. Why should not American boys do a great +deal more and better than Swiss boys?</p> +<p>There is nothing to my mind more coarse in conception and more +vulgar in execution than modern jewellery. This is +something that can easily be corrected. Something better +should be made out of the beautiful gold which is stored up in +your mountain hollows and strewn along your river beds. +When I was at Leadville and reflected that all the shining silver +that I saw coming from the mines would be made into ugly dollars, +it made me sad. It should be made into something more +permanent. The golden gates at Florence are as beautiful +to-day as when Michael Angelo saw them.</p> +<p>We should see more of the workman than we do. We should +not be content to have the salesman stand between us—the +salesman who knows nothing of what he is selling save that he is +charging a great deal too much for it. And watching the +workman will teach that most important lesson—the nobility +of all rational workmanship.</p> +<p>I said in my last lecture that art would create a new +brotherhood among men by furnishing a universal language. I +said that under its beneficent influences war might pass +away. Thinking this, what place can I ascribe to art in our +education? If children grow up among all fair and lovely +things, they will grow to love beauty and detest ugliness before +they know the reason why. If you go into a house where +everything is coarse, you find things chipped and broken and +unsightly. Nobody exercises any care. If everything +is dainty and delicate, gentleness and refinement of manner are +unconsciously acquired. When I was in San Francisco I used +to visit the Chinese Quarter frequently. There I used to +watch a great hulking Chinese workman at his task of digging, and +used to see him every day drink his tea from a little cup as +delicate in texture as the petal of a flower, whereas in all the +grand hotels of the land, where thousands of dollars have been +lavished on great gilt mirrors and gaudy columns, I have been +given my coffee or my chocolate in cups an inch and a quarter +thick. I think I have deserved something nicer.</p> +<p>The art systems of the past have been devised by philosophers +who looked upon human beings as obstructions. They have +tried to educate boys’ minds before they had any. How +much better it would be in these early years to teach children to +use their hands in the rational service of mankind. I would +have a workshop attached to every school, and one hour a day +given up to the teaching of simple decorative arts. It +would be a golden hour to the children. And you would soon +raise up a race of handicraftsmen who would transform the face of +your country. I have seen only one such school in the +United States, and this was in Philadelphia and was founded by my +friend Mr. Leyland. I stopped there yesterday and have +brought some of the work here this afternoon to show you. +Here are two disks of beaten brass: the designs on them are +beautiful, the workmanship is simple, and the entire result is +satisfactory. The work was done by a little boy twelve +years old. This is a wooden bowl decorated by a little girl +of thirteen. The design is lovely and the colouring +delicate and pretty. Here you see a piece of beautiful wood +carving accomplished by a little boy of nine. In such work +as this, children learn sincerity in art. They learn to +abhor the liar in art—the man who paints wood to look like +iron, or iron to look like stone. It is a practical school +of morals. No better way is there to learn to love Nature +than to understand Art. It dignifies every flower of the +field. And, the boy who sees the thing of beauty which a +bird on the wing becomes when transferred to wood or canvas will +probably not throw the customary stone. What we want is +something spiritual added to life. Nothing is so ignoble +that Art cannot sanctify it.</p> +<h2><a name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 173</span>ART +AND THE HANDICRAFTSMAN</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The fragments of which this lecture is +composed are taken entirely from the original manuscripts which +have but recently been discovered. It is not certain that +they all belong to the same lecture, nor that all were written at +the same period. Some portions were written in Philadelphia +in 1882.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">People</span> often talk as if there was +an opposition between what is beautiful and what is useful. +There is no opposition to beauty except ugliness: all things are +either beautiful or ugly, and utility will be always on the side +of the beautiful thing, because beautiful decoration is always on +the side of the beautiful thing, because beautiful decoration is +always an expression of the use you put a thing to and the value +placed on it. No workman will beautifully decorate bad +work, nor can you possibly get good handicraftsmen or workmen +without having beautiful designs. You should be quite sure +of that. If you have poor and worthless designs in any +craft or trade you will get poor and worthless workmen only, but +the minute you have noble and beautiful designs, then you get men +of power and intellect and feeling to work for you. By +having good designs you have workmen who work not merely with +their hands but with their hearts and heads too; otherwise you +will get merely the fool or the loafer to work for you.</p> +<p>That the beauty of life is a thing of no moment, I suppose few +people would venture to assert. And yet most civilised +people act as if it were of none, and in so doing are wronging +both themselves and those that are to come after them. For +that beauty which is meant by art is no mere accident of human +life which people can take or leave, but a positive necessity of +life if we are to live as nature meant us to, that is to say +unless we are content to be less than men.</p> +<p>Do not think that the commercial spirit which is the basis of +your life and cities here is opposed to art. Who built the +beautiful cities of the world but commercial men and commercial +men only? Genoa built by its traders, Florence by its +bankers, and Venice, most lovely of all, by its noble and honest +merchants.</p> +<p>I do not wish you, remember, ‘to build a new +Pisa,’ nor to bring ‘the life or the decorations of +the thirteenth century back again.’ ‘The +circumstances with which you must surround your workmen are +those’ of modern American life, ‘because the designs +you have now to ask for from your workmen are such as will make +modern’ American ‘life beautiful.’ The +art we want is the art based on all the inventions of modern +civilisation, and to suit all the needs of nineteenth-century +life.</p> +<p>Do you think, for instance, that we object to machinery? +I tell you we reverence it; we reverence it when it does its +proper work, when it relieves man from ignoble and soulless +labour, not when it seeks to do that which is valuable only when +wrought by the hands and hearts of men. Let us have no +machine-made ornament at all; it is all bad and worthless and +ugly. And let us not mistake the means of civilisation for +the end of civilisation; steam-engine, telephone and the like, +are all wonderful, but remember that their value depends entirely +on the noble uses we make of them, on the noble spirit in which +we employ them, not on the things themselves.</p> +<p>It is, no doubt, a great advantage to talk to a man at the +Antipodes through a telephone; its advantage depends entirely on +the value of what the two men have to say to one another. +If one merely shrieks slander through a tube and the other +whispers folly into a wire, do not think that anybody is very +much benefited by the invention.</p> +<p>The train that whirls an ordinary Englishman through Italy at +the rate of forty miles an hour and finally sends him home +without any memory of that lovely country but that he was cheated +by a courier at Rome, or that he got a bad dinner at Verona, does +not do him or civilisation much good. But that swift legion +of fiery-footed engines that bore to the burning ruins of Chicago +the loving help and generous treasure of the world was as noble +and as beautiful as any golden troop of angels that ever fed the +hungry and clothed the naked in the antique times. As +beautiful, yes; all machinery may be beautiful when it is +undecorated even. Do not seek to decorate it. We +cannot but think all good machinery is graceful, also, the line +of strength and the line of beauty being one.</p> +<p>Give then, as I said, to your workmen of to-day the bright and +noble surroundings that you can yourself create. Stately +and simple architecture for your cities, bright and simple dress +for your men and women; those are the conditions of a real +artistic movement. For the artist is not concerned +primarily with any theory of life but with life itself, with the +joy and loveliness that should come daily on eye and ear for a +beautiful external world.</p> +<p>But the simplicity must not be barrenness nor the bright +colour gaudy. For all beautiful colours are graduated +colours, the colours that seem about to pass into one +another’s realm—colour without tone being like music +without harmony, mere discord. Barren architecture, the +vulgar and glaring advertisements that desecrate not merely your +cities but every rock and river that I have seen yet in +America—all this is not enough. A school of design we +must have too in each city. It should be a stately and +noble building, full of the best examples of the best art of the +world. Furthermore, do not put your designers in a barren +whitewashed room and bid them work in that depressing and +colourless atmosphere as I have seen many of the American schools +of design, but give them beautiful surroundings. Because +you want to produce a permanent canon and standard of taste in +your workman, he must have always by him and before him specimens +of the best decorative art of the world, so that you can say to +him: ‘This is good work. Greek or Italian or Japanese +wrought it so many years ago, but it is eternally young because +eternally beautiful.’ Work in this spirit and you +will be sure to be right. Do not copy it, but work with the +same love, the same reverence, the same freedom of +imagination. You must teach him colour and design, how all +beautiful colours are graduated colours and glaring colours the +essence of vulgarity. Show him the quality of any beautiful +work of nature like the rose, or any beautiful work of art like +an Eastern carpet—being merely the exquisite gradation of +colour, one tone answering another like the answering chords of a +symphony. Teach him how the true designer is not he who +makes the design and then colours it, but he who designs in +colour, creates in colour, thinks in colour too. Show him +how the most gorgeous stained-glass windows of Europe are filled +with white glass, and the most gorgeous Eastern tapestry with +toned colours—the primary colours in both places being set +in the white glass, and the tone colours like brilliant jewels +set in dusky gold. And then as regards design, show him how +the real designer will take first any given limited space, little +disk of silver, it may be, like a Greek coin, or wide expanse of +fretted ceiling or lordly wall as Tintoret chose at Venice (it +does not matter which), and to this limited space—the first +condition of decoration being the limitation of the size of the +material used—he will give the effect of its being filled +with beautiful decoration, filled with it as a golden cup will be +filled with wine, so complete that you should not be able to take +away anything from it or add anything to it. For from a +good piece of design you can take away nothing, nor can you add +anything to it, each little bit of design being as absolutely +necessary and as vitally important to the whole effect as a note +or chord of music is for a sonata of Beethoven.</p> +<p>But I said the effect of its being so filled, because this, +again, is of the essence of good design. With a simple +spray of leaves and a bird in flight a Japanese artist will give +you the impression that he has completely covered with lovely +design the reed fan or lacquer cabinet at which he is working, +merely because he knows the exact spot in which to place +them. All good design depends on the texture of the utensil +used and the use you wish to put it to. One of the first +things I saw in an American school of design was a young lady +painting a romantic moonlight landscape on a large round dish, +and another young lady covering a set of dinner plates with a +series of sunsets of the most remarkable colours. Let your +ladies paint moonlight landscapes and sunsets, but do not let +them paint them on dinner plates or dishes. Let them take +canvas or paper for such work, but not clay or china. They +are merely painting the wrong subjects on the wrong material, +that is all. They have not been taught that every material +and texture has certain qualities of its own. The design +suitable for one is quite wrong for the other, just as the design +which you should work on a flat table-cover ought to be quite +different from the design you would work on a curtain, for the +one will always be straight, the other broken into folds; and the +use too one puts the object to should guide one in the choice of +design. One does not want to eat one’s terrapins off +a romantic moonlight nor one’s clams off a harrowing +sunset. Glory of sun and moon, let them be wrought for us +by our landscape artist and be on the walls of the rooms we sit +in to remind us of the undying beauty of the sunsets that fade +and die, but do not let us eat our soup off them and send them +down to the kitchen twice a day to be washed and scrubbed by the +handmaid.</p> +<p>All these things are simple enough, yet nearly always +forgotten. Your school of design here will teach your girls +and your boys, your handicraftsmen of the future (for all your +schools of art should be local schools, the schools of particular +cities). We talk of the Italian school of painting, but +there is no Italian school; there were the schools of each +city. Every town in Italy, from Venice itself, queen of the +sea, to the little hill fortress of Perugia, each had its own +school of art, each different and all beautiful.</p> +<p>So do not mind what art Philadelphia or New York is having, +but make by the hands of your own citizens beautiful art for the +joy of your own citizens, for you have here the primary elements +of a great artistic movement.</p> +<p>For, believe me, the conditions of art are much simpler than +people imagine. For the noblest art one requires a clear +healthy atmosphere, not polluted as the air of our English cities +is by the smoke and grime and horridness which comes from open +furnace and from factory chimney. You must have strong, +sane, healthy physique among your men and women. Sickly or +idle or melancholy people do not do much in art. And +lastly, you require a sense of individualism about each man and +woman, for this is the essence of art—a desire on the part +of man to express himself in the noblest way possible. And +this is the reason that the grandest art of the world always came +from a republic: Athens, Venice, and Florence—there were no +kings there and so their art was as noble and simple as +sincere. But if you want to know what kind of art the folly +of kings will impose on a country look at the decorative art of +France under the <i>grand monarque</i>, under Louis the +Fourteenth; the gaudy gilt furniture writhing under a sense of +its own horror and ugliness, with a nymph smirking at every angle +and a dragon mouthing on every claw. Unreal and monstrous +art this, and fit only for such periwigged pomposities as the +nobility of France at that time, but not at all fit for you or +me. We do not want the rich to possess more beautiful +things but the poor to create more beautiful things; for ever man +is poor who cannot create. Nor shall the art which you and +I need be merely a purple robe woven by a slave and thrown over +the whitened body of some leprous king to adorn or to conceal the +sin of his luxury, but rather shall it be the noble and beautiful +expression of a people’s noble and beautiful life. +Art shall be again the most glorious of all the chords through +which the spirit of a great nation finds its noblest +utterance.</p> +<p>All around you, I said, lie the conditions for a great +artistic movement for every great art. Let us think of one +of them; a sculptor, for instance.</p> +<p>If a modern sculptor were to come and say, ‘Very well, +but where can one find subjects for sculpture out of men who wear +frock-coats and chimney-pot hats?’ I would tell him to go +to the docks of a great city and watch the men loading or +unloading the stately ships, working at wheel or windlass, +hauling at rope or gangway. I have never watched a man do +anything useful who has not been graceful at some moment of his +labour: it is only the loafer and the idle saunterer who is as +useless and uninteresting to the artist as he is to +himself. I would ask the sculptor to go with me to any of +your schools or universities, to the running ground and +gymnasium, to watch the young men start for a race, hurling quoit +or club, kneeling to tie their shoes before leaping, stepping +from the boat or bending to the oar, and to carve them; and when +he was weary of cities I would ask him to come to your fields and +meadows to watch the reaper with his sickle and the cattle-driver +with lifted lasso. For if a man cannot find the noblest +motives for his art in such simple daily things as a woman +drawing water from the well or a man leaning with his scythe, he +will not find them anywhere at all. Gods and goddesses the +Greek carved because he loved them; saint and king the Goth +because he believed in them. But you, you do not care much +for Greek gods and goddesses, and you are perfectly and entirely +right; and you do not think much of kings either, and you are +quite right. But what you do love are your own men and +women, your own flowers and fields, your own hills and mountains, +and these are what your art should represent to you.</p> +<p>Ours has been the first movement which has brought the +handicraftsman and the artist together, for remember that by +separating the one from the other you do ruin to both; you rob +the one of all spiritual motive and all imaginative joy, you +isolate the other from all real technical perfection. The +two greatest schools of art in the world, the sculptor at Athens +and the school of painting at Venice, had their origin entirely +in a long succession of simple and earnest handicraftsmen. +It was the Greek potter who taught the sculptor that restraining +influence of design which was the glory of the Parthenon; it was +the Italian decorator of chests and household goods who kept +Venetian painting always true to its primary pictorial condition +of noble colour. For we should remember that all the arts +are fine arts and all the arts decorative arts. The +greatest triumph of Italian painting was the decoration of a +pope’s chapel in Rome and the wall of a room in +Venice. Michael Angelo wrought the one, and Tintoret, the +dyer’s son, the other. And the little ‘Dutch +landscape, which you put over your sideboard to-day, and between +the windows to-morrow, is’ no less a glorious ‘piece +of work than the extents of field and forest with which Benozzo +has made green and beautiful the once melancholy arcade of the +Campo Santo at Pisa,’ as Ruskin says.</p> +<p>Do not imitate the works of a nation, Greek or Japanese, +Italian or English; but their artistic spirit of design and their +artistic attitude to-day, their own world, you should absorb but +imitate never, copy never. Unless you can make as beautiful +a design in painted china or embroidered screen or beaten brass +out of your American turkey as the Japanese does out of his grey +silver-winged stork, you will never do anything. Let the +Greek carve his lions and the Goth his dragons: buffalo and wild +deer are the animals for you.</p> +<p>Golden rod and aster and rose and all the flowers that cover +your valleys in the spring and your hills in the autumn: let them +be the flowers for your art. Not merely has Nature given +you the noblest motives for a new school of decoration, but to +you above all other countries has she given the utensils to work +in.</p> +<p>You have quarries of marble richer than Pentelicus, more +varied than Paros, but do not build a great white square house of +marble and think that it is beautiful, or that you are using +marble nobly. If you build in marble you must either carve +it into joyous decoration, like the lives of dancing children +that adorn the marble castles of the Loire, or fill it with +beautiful sculpture, frieze and pediment, as the Greeks did, or +inlay it with other coloured marbles as they did in Venice. +Otherwise you had better build in simple red brick as your +Puritan fathers, with no pretence and with some beauty. Do +not treat your marble as if it was ordinary stone and build a +house of mere blocks of it. For it is indeed a precious +stone, this marble of yours, and only workmen of nobility of +invention and delicacy of hand should be allowed to touch it at +all, carving it into noble statues or into beautiful decoration, +or inlaying it with other coloured marbles: for ‘the true +colours of architecture are those of natural stone, and I would +fain see them taken advantage of to the full. Every variety +is here, from pale yellow to purple passing through orange, red, +and brown, entirely at your command; nearly every kind of green +and grey also is attainable, and with these and with pure white +what harmony might you not achieve. Of stained and +variegated stone the quantity is unlimited, the kinds +innumerable. Were brighter colours required, let glass, and +gold protected by glass, be used in mosaic, a kind of work as +durable as the solid stone and incapable of losing its lustre by +time. And let the painter’s work be reserved for the +shadowed loggia and inner chamber.</p> +<p>‘This is the true and faithful way of building. +Where this cannot be, the device of external colouring may indeed +be employed without dishonour—but it must be with the +warning reflection that a time will come when such aids will pass +away and when the building will be judged in its lifelessness, +dying the death of the dolphin. Better the less bright, +more enduring fabric. The transparent alabasters of San +Miniato and the mosaics of Saint Mark’s are more warmly +filled and more brightly touched by every return of morning and +evening, while the hues of the Gothic cathedrals have died like +the iris out of the cloud, and the temples, whose azure and +purple once flamed above the Grecian promontory, stand in their +faded whiteness like snows which the sunset has left +cold.’—Ruskin, <i>Seven Lamps of Architecture</i>, +II.</p> +<p>I do not know anything so perfectly commonplace in design as +most modern jewellery. How easy for you to change that and +to produce goldsmiths’ work that would be a joy to all of +us. The gold is ready for you in unexhausted treasure, +stored up in the mountain hollow or strewn on the river sand, and +was not given to you merely for barren speculation. There +should be some better record of it left in your history than the +merchant’s panic and the ruined home. We do not +remember often enough how constantly the history of a great +nation will live in and by its art. Only a few thin wreaths +of beaten gold remain to tell us of the stately empire of +Etruria; and, while from the streets of Florence the noble knight +and haughty duke have long since passed away, the gates which the +simple goldsmith Ghiberti made for their pleasure still guard +their lovely house of baptism, worthy still of the praise of +Michael Angelo who called them worthy to be the Gates of +Paradise.</p> +<p>Have then your school of design, search out your workmen and, +when you find one who has delicacy of hand and that wonder of +invention necessary for goldsmiths’ work, do not leave him +to toil in obscurity and dishonour and have a great glaring shop +and two great glaring shop-boys in it (not to take your orders: +they never do that; but to force you to buy something you do not +want at all). When you want a thing wrought in gold, goblet +or shield for the feast, necklace or wreath for the women, tell +him what you like most in decoration, flower or wreath, bird in +flight or hound in the chase, image of the woman you love or the +friend you honour. Watch him as he beats out the gold into +those thin plates delicate as the petals of a yellow rose, or +draws it into the long wires like tangled sunbeams at dawn. +Whoever that workman be, help him, cherish him, and you will have +such lovely work from his hand as will be a joy to you for all +time.</p> +<p>This is the spirit of our movement in England, and this is the +spirit in which we would wish you to work, making eternal by your +art all that is noble in your men and women, stately in your +lakes and mountains, beautiful in your own flowers and natural +life. We want to see that you have nothing in your houses +that has not been a joy to the man who made it, and is not a joy +to those that use it. We want to see you create an art made +by the hands of the people to please the hearts of the people +too. Do you like this spirit or not? Do you think it +simple and strong, noble in its aim, and beautiful in its +result? I know you do.</p> +<p>Folly and slander have their own way for a little time, but +for a little time only. You now know what we mean: you will +be able to estimate what is said of us—its value and its +motive.</p> +<p>There should be a law that no ordinary newspaper should be +allowed to write about art. The harm they do by their +foolish and random writing it would be impossible to +overestimate—not to the artist but to the public, blinding +them to all, but harming the artist not at all. Without +them we would judge a man simply by his work; but at present the +newspapers are trying hard to induce the public to judge a +sculptor, for instance, never by his statues but by the way he +treats his wife; a painter by the amount of his income and a poet +by the colour of his neck-tie. I said there should be a +law, but there is really no necessity for a new law: nothing +could be easier than to bring the ordinary critic under the head +of the criminal classes. But let us leave such an +inartistic subject and return to beautiful and comely things, +remembering that the art which would represent the spirit of +modern newspapers would be exactly the art which you and I want +to avoid—grotesque art, malice mocking you from every +gateway, slander sneering at you from every corner.</p> +<p>Perhaps you may be surprised at my talking of labour and the +workman. You have heard of me, I fear, through the medium +of your somewhat imaginative newspapers as, if not a +‘Japanese young man,’ at least a young man to whom +the rush and clamour and reality of the modern world were +distasteful, and whose greatest difficulty in life was the +difficulty of living up to the level of his blue china—a +paradox from which England has not yet recovered.</p> +<p>Well, let me tell you how it first came to me at all to create +an artistic movement in England, a movement to show the rich what +beautiful things they might enjoy and the poor what beautiful +things they might create.</p> +<p>One summer afternoon in Oxford—‘that sweet city +with her dreaming spires,’ lovely as Venice in its +splendour, noble in its learning as Rome, down the long High +Street that winds from tower to tower, past silent cloister and +stately gateway, till it reaches that long, grey seven-arched +bridge which Saint Mary used to guard (used to, I say, because +they are now pulling it down to build a tramway and a light +cast-iron bridge in its place, desecrating the loveliest city in +England)—well, we were coming down the street—a troop +of young men, some of them like myself only nineteen, going to +river or tennis-court or cricket-field—when Ruskin going up +to lecture in cap and gown met us. He seemed troubled and +prayed us to go back with him to his lecture, which a few of us +did, and there he spoke to us not on art this time but on life, +saying that it seemed to him to be wrong that all the best +physique and strength of the young men in England should be spent +aimlessly on cricket ground or river, without any result at all +except that if one rowed well one got a pewter-pot, and if one +made a good score, a cane-handled bat. He thought, he said, +that we should be working at something that would do good to +other people, at something by which we might show that in all +labour there was something noble. Well, we were a good deal +moved, and said we would do anything he wished. So he went +out round Oxford and found two villages, Upper and Lower Hinksey, +and between them there lay a great swamp, so that the villagers +could not pass from one to the other without many miles of a +round. And when we came back in winter he asked us to help +him to make a road across this morass for these village people to +use. So out we went, day after day, and learned how to lay +levels and to break stones, and to wheel barrows along a +plank—a very difficult thing to do. And Ruskin worked +with us in the mist and rain and mud of an Oxford winter, and our +friends and our enemies came out and mocked us from the +bank. We did not mind it much then, and we did not mind it +afterwards at all, but worked away for two months at our +road. And what became of the road? Well, like a bad +lecture it ended abruptly—in the middle of the swamp. +Ruskin going away to Venice, when we came back for the next term +there was no leader, and the ‘diggers,’ as they +called us, fell asunder. And I felt that if there was +enough spirit amongst the young men to go out to such work as +road-making for the sake of a noble ideal of life, I could from +them create an artistic movement that might change, as it has +changed, the face of England. So I sought them +out—leader they would call me—but there was no +leader: we were all searchers only and we were bound to each +other by noble friendship and by noble art. There was none +of us idle: poets most of us, so ambitious were we: painters some +of us, or workers in metal or modellers, determined that we would +try and create for ourselves beautiful work: for the +handicraftsman beautiful work, for those who love us poems and +pictures, for those who love us not epigrams and paradoxes and +scorn.</p> +<p>Well, we have done something in England and we will do +something more. Now, I do not want you, believe me, to ask +your brilliant young men, your beautiful young girls, to go out +and make a road on a swamp for any village in America, but I +think you might each of you have some art to practise.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>We must have, as Emerson said, a mechanical craft for our +culture, a basis for our higher accomplishments in the work of +our hands—the uselessness of most people’s hands +seems to me one of the most unpractical things. ‘No +separation from labour can be without some loss of power or truth +to the seer,’ says Emerson again. The heroism which +would make on us the impression of Epaminondas must be that of a +domestic conqueror. The hero of the future is he who shall +bravely and gracefully subdue this Gorgon of fashion and of +convention.</p> +<p>When you have chosen your own part, abide by it, and do not +weakly try and reconcile yourself with the world. The +heroic cannot be the common nor the common the heroic. +Congratulate yourself if you have done something strange and +extravagant and broken the monotony of a decorous age.</p> +<p>And lastly, let us remember that art is the one thing which +Death cannot harm. The little house at Concord may be +desolate, but the wisdom of New England’s Plato is not +silenced nor the brilliancy of that Attic genius dimmed: the lips +of Longfellow are still musical for us though his dust be turning +into the flowers which he loved: and as it is with the greater +artists, poet and philosopher and song-bird, so let it be with +you.</p> +<h2><a name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +197</span>LECTURE TO ART STUDENTS</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Delivered to the Art students of the Royal +Academy at their Club in Golden Square, Westminster, on June 30, +1883. The text is taken from the original manuscript.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the lecture which it is my +privilege to deliver before you to-night I do not desire to give +you any abstract definition of beauty at all. For we who +are working in art cannot accept any theory of beauty in exchange +for beauty itself, and, so far from desiring to isolate it in a +formula appealing to the intellect, we, on the contrary, seek to +materialise it in a form that gives joy to the soul through the +senses. We want to create it, not to define it. The +definition should follow the work: the work should not adapt +itself to the definition.</p> +<p>Nothing, indeed, is more dangerous to the young artist than +any conception of ideal beauty: he is constantly led by it either +into weak prettiness or lifeless abstraction: whereas to touch +the ideal at all you must not strip it of vitality. You +must find it in life and re-create it in art.</p> +<p>While, then, on the one hand I do not desire to give you any +philosophy of beauty—for, what I want to-night is to +investigate how we can create art, not how we can talk of +it—on the other hand, I do not wish to deal with anything +like a history of English art.</p> +<p>To begin with, such an expression as English art is a +meaningless expression. One might just as well talk of +English mathematics. Art is the science of beauty, and +Mathematics the science of truth: there is no national school of +either. Indeed, a national school is a provincial school, +merely. Nor is there any such thing as a school of art +even. There are merely artists, that is all.</p> +<p>And as regards histories of art, they are quite valueless to +you unless you are seeking the ostentatious oblivion of an art +professorship. It is of no use to you to know the date of +Perugino or the birthplace of Salvator Rosa: all that you should +learn about art is to know a good picture when you see it, and a +bad picture when you see it. As regards the date of the +artist, all good work looks perfectly modern: a piece of Greek +sculpture, a portrait of Velasquez—they are always modern, +always of our time. And as regards the nationality of the +artist, art is not national but universal. As regards +archæology, then, avoid it altogether: archæology is +merely the science of making excuses for bad art; it is the rock +on which many a young artist founders and shipwrecks; it is the +abyss from which no artist, old or young, ever returns. Or, +if he does return, he is so covered with the dust of ages and the +mildew of time, that he is quite unrecognisable as an artist, and +has to conceal himself for the rest of his days under the cap of +a professor, or as a mere illustrator of ancient history. +How worthless archæology is in art you can estimate by the +fact of its being so popular. Popularity is the crown of +laurel which the world puts on bad art. Whatever is popular +is wrong.</p> +<p>As I am not going to talk to you, then, about the philosophy +of the beautiful, or the history of art, you will ask me what I +am going to talk about. The subject of my lecture to-night +is what makes an artist and what does the artist make; what are +the relations of the artist to his surroundings, what is the +education the artist should get, and what is the quality of a +good work of art.</p> +<p>Now, as regards the relations of the artist to his +surroundings, by which I mean the age and country in which he is +born. All good art, as I said before, has nothing to do +with any particular century; but this universality is the quality +of the work of art; the conditions that produce that quality are +different. And what, I think, you should do is to realise +completely your age in order completely to abstract yourself from +it; remembering that if you are an artist at all, you will be not +the mouthpiece of a century, but the master of eternity, that all +art rests on a principle, and that mere temporal considerations +are no principle at all; and that those who advise you to make +your art representative of the nineteenth century are advising +you to produce an art which your children, when you have them, +will think old-fashioned. But you will tell me this is an +inartistic age, and we are an inartistic people, and the artist +suffers much in this nineteenth century of ours.</p> +<p>Of course he does. I, of all men, am not going to deny +that. But remember that there never has been an artistic +age, or an artistic people, since the beginning of the +world. The artist has always been, and will always be, an +exquisite exception. There is no golden age of art; only +artists who have produced what is more golden than gold.</p> +<p><i>What</i>, you will say to me, the Greeks? were not they an +artistic people?</p> +<p>Well, the Greeks certainly not, but, perhaps, you mean the +Athenians, the citizens of one out of a thousand cities.</p> +<p>Do you think that they were an artistic people? Take +them even at the time of their highest artistic development, the +latter part of the fifth century before Christ, when they had the +greatest poets and the greatest artists of the antique world, +when the Parthenon rose in loveliness at the bidding of a +Phidias, and the philosopher spake of wisdom in the shadow of the +painted portico, and tragedy swept in the perfection of pageant +and pathos across the marble of the stage. Were they an +artistic people then? Not a bit of it. What is an +artistic people but a people who love their artists and +understand their art? The Athenians could do neither.</p> +<p>How did they treat Phidias? To Phidias we owe the great +era, not merely in Greek, but in all art—I mean of the +introduction of the use of the living model.</p> +<p>And what would you say if all the English bishops, backed by +the English people, came down from Exeter Hall to the Royal +Academy one day and took off Sir Frederick Leighton in a prison +van to Newgate on the charge of having allowed you to make use of +the living model in your designs for sacred pictures?</p> +<p>Would you not cry out against the barbarism and the Puritanism +of such an idea? Would you not explain to them that the +worst way to honour God is to dishonour man who is made in His +image, and is the work of His hands; and, that if one wants to +paint Christ one must take the most Christlike person one can +find, and if one wants to paint the Madonna, the purest girl one +knows?</p> +<p>Would you not rush off and burn down Newgate, if necessary, +and say that such a thing was without parallel in history?</p> +<p>Without parallel? Well, that is exactly what the +Athenians did.</p> +<p>In the room of the Parthenon marbles, in the British Museum, +you will see a marble shield on the wall. On it there are +two figures; one of a man whose face is half hidden, the other of +a man with the godlike lineaments of Pericles. For having +done this, for having introduced into a bas relief, taken from +Greek sacred history, the image of the great statesman who was +ruling Athens at the time, Phidias was flung into prison and +there, in the common gaol of Athens, died, the supreme artist of +the old world.</p> +<p>And do you think that this was an exceptional case? The +sign of a Philistine age is the cry of immorality against art, +and this cry was raised by the Athenian people against every +great poet and thinker of their day—Æschylus, +Euripides, Socrates. It was the same with Florence in the +thirteenth century. Good handicrafts are due to guilds, not +to the people. The moment the guilds lost their power and +the people rushed in, beauty and honesty of work died.</p> +<p>And so, never talk of an artistic people; there never has been +such a thing.</p> +<p>But, perhaps, you will tell me that the external beauty of the +world has almost entirely passed away from us, that the artist +dwells no longer in the midst of the lovely surroundings which, +in ages past, were the natural inheritance of every one, and that +art is very difficult in this unlovely town of ours, where, as +you go to your work in the morning, or return from it at +eventide, you have to pass through street after street of the +most foolish and stupid architecture that the world has ever +seen; architecture, where every lovely Greek form is desecrated +and defiled, and every lovely Gothic form defiled and desecrated, +reducing three-fourths of the London houses to being, merely, +like square boxes of the vilest proportions, as gaunt as they are +grimy, and as poor as they are pretentious—the hall door +always of the wrong colour, and the windows of the wrong size, +and where, even when wearied of the houses you turn to +contemplate the street itself, you have nothing to look at but +chimney-pot hats, men with sandwich boards, vermilion +letter-boxes, and do that even at the risk of being run over by +an emerald-green omnibus.</p> +<p>Is not art difficult, you will say to me, in such surroundings +as these? Of course it is difficult, but then art was never +easy; you yourselves would not wish it to be easy; and, besides, +nothing is worth doing except what the world says is +impossible.</p> +<p>Still, you do not care to be answered merely by a +paradox. What are the relations of the artist to the +external world, and what is the result of the loss of beautiful +surroundings to you, is one of the most important questions of +modern art; and there is no point on which Mr. Ruskin so insists +as that the decadence of art has come from the decadence of +beautiful things; and that when the artist cannot feed his eye on +beauty, beauty goes from his work.</p> +<p>I remember in one of his lectures, after describing the sordid +aspect of a great English city, he draws for us a picture of what +were the artistic surroundings long ago.</p> +<p>Think, he says, in words of perfect and picturesque imagery, +whose beauty I can but feebly echo, think of what was the scene +which presented itself, in his afternoon walk, to a designer of +the Gothic school of Pisa—Nino Pisano or any of his men: <a +name="citation206"></a><a href="#footnote206" +class="citation">[206]</a></p> +<blockquote><p>On each side of a bright river he saw rise a line +of brighter palaces, arched and pillared, and inlaid with deep +red porphyry, and with serpentine; along the quays before their +gates were riding troops of knights, noble in face and form, +dazzling in crest and shield; horse and man one labyrinth of +quaint colour and gleaming light—the purple, and silver, +and scarlet fringes flowing over the strong limbs and clashing +mall, like sea-waves over rocks at sunset. Opening on each +side from the river were gardens, courts, and cloisters; long +successions of white pillars among wreaths of vine; leaping of +fountains through buds of pomegranate and orange: and still along +the garden-paths, and under and through the crimson of the +pomegranate shadows, moving slowly, groups of the fairest women +that Italy ever saw—fairest, because purest and +thoughtfullest; trained in all high knowledge, as in all +courteous art—in dance, in song, in sweet wit, in lofty +learning, in loftier courage, in loftiest love—able alike +to cheer, to enchant, or save, the souls of men. Above all +this scenery of perfect human life, rose dome and bell-tower, +burning with white alabaster and gold: beyond dome and bell-tower +the slopes of mighty hills hoary with olive; far in the north, +above a purple sea of peaks of solemn Apennine, the clear, +sharp-cloven Carrara mountains sent up their steadfast flames of +marble summit into amber sky; the great sea itself, scorching +with expanse of light, stretching from their feet to the +Gorgonian isles; and over all these, ever present, near or +far—seen through the leaves of vine, or imaged with all its +march of clouds in the Arno’s stream, or set with its depth +of blue close against the golden hair and burning cheek of lady +and knight,—that untroubled and sacred sky, which was to +all men, in those days of innocent faith, indeed the unquestioned +abode of spirits, as the earth was of men; and which opened +straight through its gates of cloud and veils of dew into the +awfulness of the eternal world;—a heaven in which every +cloud that passed was literally the chariot of an angel, and +every ray of its Evening and Morning streamed from the throne of +God.</p> +<p>What think you of that for a school of design?</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And then look at the depressing, monotonous appearance of any +modern city, the sombre dress of men and women, the meaningless +and barren architecture, the colourless and dreadful +surroundings. Without a beautiful national life, not +sculpture merely, but all the arts will die.</p> +<p>Well, as regards the religious feeling of the close of the +passage, I do not think I need speak about that. Religion +springs from religious feeling, art from artistic feeling: you +never get one from the other; unless you have the right root you +will not get the right flower; and, if a man sees in a cloud the +chariot of an angel, he will probably paint it very unlike a +cloud.</p> +<p>But, as regards the general idea of the early part of that +lovely bit of prose, is it really true that beautiful +surroundings are necessary for the artist? I think not; I +am sure not. Indeed, to me the most inartistic thing in +this age of ours is not the indifference of the public to +beautiful things, but the indifference of the artist to the +things that are called ugly. For, to the real artist, +nothing is beautiful or ugly in itself at all. With the +facts of the object he has nothing to do, but with its appearance +only, and appearance is a matter of light and shade, of masses, +of position, and of value.</p> +<p>Appearance is, in fact, a matter of effect merely, and it is +with the effects of nature that you have to deal, not with the +real condition of the object. What you, as painters, have +to paint is not things as they are but things as they seem to be, +not things as they are but things as they are not.</p> +<p>No object is so ugly that, under certain conditions of light +and shade, or proximity to other things, it will not look +beautiful; no object is so beautiful that, under certain +conditions, it will not look ugly. I believe that in every +twenty-four hours what is beautiful looks ugly, and what is ugly +looks beautiful, once.</p> +<p>And, the commonplace character of so much of our English +painting seems to me due to the fact that so many of our young +artists look merely at what we may call ‘ready-made +beauty,’ whereas you exist as artists not to copy beauty +but to create it in your art, to wait and watch for it in +nature.</p> +<p>What would you say of a dramatist who would take nobody but +virtuous people as characters in his play? Would you not +say he was missing half of life? Well, of the young artist +who paints nothing but beautiful things, I say he misses one half +of the world.</p> +<p>Do not wait for life to be picturesque, but try and see life +under picturesque conditions. These conditions you can +create for yourself in your studio, for they are merely +conditions of light. In nature, you must wait for them, +watch for them, choose them; and, if you wait and watch, come +they will.</p> +<p>In Gower Street at night you may see a letter-box that is +picturesque: on the Thames Embankment you may see picturesque +policemen. Even Venice is not always beautiful, nor +France.</p> +<p>To paint what you see is a good rule in art, but to see what +is worth painting is better. See life under pictorial +conditions. It is better to live in a city of changeable +weather than in a city of lovely surroundings.</p> +<p>Now, having seen what makes the artist, and what the artist +makes, who is the artist? There is a man living amongst us +who unites in himself all the qualities of the noblest art, whose +work is a joy for all time, who is, himself, a master of all +time. That man is Mr. Whistler.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>But, you will say, modern dress, that is bad. If you +cannot paint black cloth you could not have painted silken +doublet. Ugly dress is better for art—facts of +vision, not of the object.</p> +<p>What is a picture? Primarily, a picture is a beautifully +coloured surface, merely, with no more spiritual message or +meaning for you than an exquisite fragment of Venetian glass or a +blue tile from the wall of Damascus. It is, primarily, a +purely decorative thing, a delight to look at.</p> +<p>All archæological pictures that make you say ‘How +curious!’ all sentimental pictures that make you say, +‘How sad!’ all historical pictures that make you say +‘How interesting!’ all pictures that do not +immediately give you such artistic joy as to make you say +‘How beautiful!’ are bad pictures.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>We never know what an artist is going to do. Of course +not. The artist is not a specialist. All such +divisions as animal painters, landscape painters, painters of +Scotch cattle in an English mist, painters of English cattle in a +Scotch mist, racehorse painters, bull-terrier painters, all are +shallow. If a man is an artist he can paint everything.</p> +<p>The object of art is to stir the most divine and remote of the +chords which make music in our soul; and colour is indeed, of +itself a mystical presence on things, and tone a kind of +sentinel.</p> +<p>Am I pleading, then, for mere technique? No. As +long as there are any signs of technique at all, the picture is +unfinished. What is finish? A picture is finished +when all traces of work, and of the means employed to bring about +the result, have disappeared.</p> +<p>In the case of handicraftsmen—the weaver, the potter, +the smith—on their work are the traces of their hand. +But it is not so with the painter; it is not so with the +artist.</p> +<p>Art should have no sentiment about it but its beauty, no +technique except what you cannot observe. One should be +able to say of a picture not that it is ‘well +painted,’ but that it is ‘not painted.’</p> +<p>What is the difference between absolutely decorative art and a +painting? Decorative art emphasises its material: +imaginative art annihilates it. Tapestry shows its threads +as part of its beauty: a picture annihilates its canvas: it shows +nothing of it. Porcelain emphasises its glaze: +water-colours reject the paper.</p> +<p>A picture has no meaning but its beauty, no message but its +joy. That is the first truth about art that you must never +lose sight of. A picture is a purely decorative thing.</p> +<h2><a name="page213"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +213</span>LONDON MODELS</h2> +<p class="gutsumm"><i>English Illustrated Magazine</i>, January +1889.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Professional</span> models are a purely +modern invention. To the Greeks, for instance, they were +quite unknown. Mr. Mahaffy, it is true, tells us that +Pericles used to present peacocks to the great ladies of Athenian +society in order to induce them to sit to his friend Phidias, and +we know that Polygnotus introduced into his picture of the Trojan +women the face of Elpinice, the celebrated sister of the great +Conservative leader of the day, but these <i>grandes dames</i> +clearly do not come under our category. As for the old +masters, they undoubtedly made constant studies from their pupils +and apprentices, and even their religious pictures are full of +the portraits of their friends and relations, but they do not +seem to have had the inestimable advantage of the existence of a +class of people whose sole profession is to pose. In fact +the model, in our sense of the word, is the direct creation of +Academic Schools.</p> +<p>Every country now has its own models, except America. In +New York, and even in Boston, a good model is so great a rarity +that most of the artists are reduced to painting Niagara and +millionaires. In Europe, however, it is different. +Here we have plenty of models, and of every nationality. +The Italian models are the best. The natural grace of their +attitudes, as well as the wonderful picturesqueness of their +colouring, makes them facile—often too +facile—subjects for the painter’s brush. The +French models, though not so beautiful as the Italian, possess a +quickness of intellectual sympathy, a capacity, in fact, of +understanding the artist, which is quite remarkable. They +have also a great command over the varieties of facial +expression, are peculiarly dramatic, and can chatter the +<i>argot</i> of the <i>atelier</i> as cleverly as the critic of +the <i>Gil Blas</i>. The English models form a class +entirely by themselves. They are not so picturesque as the +Italian, nor so clever as the French, and they have absolutely no +tradition, so to speak, of their order. Now and then some +old veteran knocks at the studio door, and proposes to sit as +Ajax defying the lightning, or as King Lear upon the blasted +heath. One of them some time ago called on a popular +painter who, happening at the moment to require his services, +engaged him, and told him to begin by kneeling down in the +attitude of prayer. ‘Shall I be Biblical or +Shakespearean, sir?’ asked the veteran. +‘Well—Shakespearean,’ answered the artist, +wondering by what subtle <i>nuance</i> of expression the model +would convey the difference. ‘All right, sir,’ +said the professor of posing, and he solemnly knelt down and +began to wink with his left eye! This class, however, is +dying out. As a rule the model, nowadays, is a pretty girl, +from about twelve to twenty-five years of age, who knows nothing +about art, cares less, and is merely anxious to earn seven or +eight shillings a day without much trouble. English models +rarely look at a picture, and never venture on any æsthetic +theories. In fact, they realise very completely Mr. +Whistler’s idea of the function of an art critic, for they +pass no criticisms at all. They accept all schools of art +with the grand catholicity of the auctioneer, and sit to a +fantastic young impressionist as readily as to a learned and +laborious academician. They are neither for the +Whistlerites nor against them; the quarrel between the school of +facts and the school of effects touches them not; idealistic and +naturalistic are words that convey no meaning to their ears; they +merely desire that the studio shall be warm, and the lunch hot, +for all charming artists give their models lunch.</p> +<p>As to what they are asked to do they are equally +indifferent. On Monday they will don the rags of a +beggar-girl for Mr. Pumper, whose pathetic pictures of modern +life draw such tears from the public, and on Tuesday they will +pose in a peplum for Mr. Phoebus, who thinks that all really +artistic subjects are necessarily <span +class="GutSmall">B.C.</span> They career gaily through all +centuries and through all costumes, and, like actors, are +interesting only when they are not themselves. They are +extremely good-natured, and very accommodating. ‘What +do you sit for?’ said a young artist to a model who had +sent him in her card (all models, by the way, have cards and a +small black bag). ‘Oh, for anything you like, +sir,’ said the girl, ‘landscape if +necessary!’</p> +<p>Intellectually, it must be acknowledged, they are Philistines, +but physically they are perfect—at least some are. +Though none of them can talk Greek, many can look Greek, which to +a nineteenth-century painter is naturally of great +importance. If they are allowed, they chatter a great deal, +but they never say anything. Their observations are the +only <i>banalités</i> heard in Bohemia. However, +though they cannot appreciate the artist as artist, they are +quite ready to appreciate the artist as a man. They are +very sensitive to kindness, respect and generosity. A +beautiful model who had sat for two years to one of our most +distinguished English painters, got engaged to a street vendor of +penny ices.</p> +<p>On her marriage the painter sent her a pretty wedding present, +and received in return a nice letter of thanks with the following +remarkable postscript: ‘Never eat the green +ices!’</p> +<p>When they are tired a wise artist gives them a rest. +Then they sit in a chair and read penny dreadfuls, till they are +roused from the tragedy of literature to take their place again +in the tragedy of art. A few of them smoke +cigarettes. This, however, is regarded by the other models +as showing a want of seriousness, and is not generally approved +of. They are engaged by the day and by the half-day. +The tariff is a shilling an hour, to which great artists usually +add an omnibus fare. The two best things about them are +their extraordinary prettiness, and their extreme +respectability. As a class they are very well behaved, +particularly those who sit for the figure, a fact which is +curious or natural according to the view one takes of human +nature. They usually marry well, and sometimes they marry +the artist. For an artist to marry his model is as fatal as +for a <i>gourmet</i> to marry his cook: the one gets no sittings, +and the other gets no dinners.</p> +<p>On the whole the English female models are very naïve, +very natural, and very good-humoured. The virtues which the +artist values most in them are prettiness and punctuality. +Every sensible model consequently keeps a diary of her +engagements, and dresses neatly. The bad season is, of +course, the summer, when the artists are out of town. +However, of late years some artists have engaged their models to +follow them, and the wife of one of our most charming painters +has often had three or four models under her charge in the +country, so that the work of her husband and his friends should +not be interrupted. In France the models migrate <i>en +masse</i> to the little seaport villages or forest hamlets where +the painters congregate. The English models, however, wait +patiently in London, as a rule, till the artists come back. +Nearly all of them live with their parents, and help to support +the house. They have every qualification for being +immortalised in art except that of beautiful hands. The +hands of the English model are nearly always coarse and red.</p> +<p>As for the male models, there is the veteran whom we have +mentioned above. He has all the traditions of the grand +style, and is rapidly disappearing with the school he +represents. An old man who talks about Fuseli is, of +course, unendurable, and, besides, patriarchs have ceased to be +fashionable subjects. Then there is the true Academy +model. He is usually a man of thirty, rarely good-looking, +but a perfect miracle of muscles. In fact he is the +apotheosis of anatomy, and is so conscious of his own splendour +that he tells you of his tibia and his thorax, as if no one else +had anything of the kind. Then come the Oriental +models. The supply of these is limited, but there are +always about a dozen in London. They are very much sought +after as they can remain immobile for hours, and generally +possess lovely costumes. However, they have a very poor +opinion of English art, which they regard as something between a +vulgar personality and a commonplace photograph. Next we +have the Italian youth who has come over specially to be a model, +or takes to it when his organ is out of repair. He is often +quite charming with his large melancholy eyes, his crisp hair, +and his slim brown figure. It is true he eats garlic, but +then he can stand like a faun and couch like a leopard, so he is +forgiven. He is always full of pretty compliments, and has +been known to have kind words of encouragement for even our +greatest artists. As for the English lad of the same age, +he never sits at all. Apparently he does not regard the +career of a model as a serious profession. In any case he +is rarely, if ever, to be got hold of. English boys, too, +are difficult to find. Sometimes an ex-model who has a son +will curl his hair, and wash his face, and bring him the round of +the studios, all soap and shininess. The young school +don’t like him, but the older school do, and when he +appears on the walls of the Royal Academy he is called <i>The +Infant Samuel</i>. Occasionally also an artist catches a +couple of <i>gamins</i> in the gutter and asks them to come to +his studio. The first time they always appear, but after +that they don’t keep their appointments. They dislike +sitting still, and have a strong and perhaps natural objection to +looking pathetic. Besides, they are always under the +impression that the artist is laughing at them. It is a sad +fact, but there is no doubt that the poor are completely +unconscious of their own picturesqueness. Those of them who +can be induced to sit do so with the idea that the artist is +merely a benevolent philanthropist who has chosen an eccentric +method of distributing alms to the undeserving. Perhaps the +School Board will teach the London <i>gamin</i> his own artistic +value, and then they will be better models than they are +now. One remarkable privilege belongs to the Academy model, +that of extorting a sovereign from any newly elected Associate or +R.A. They wait at Burlington House till the announcement is +made, and then race to the hapless artist’s house. +The one who arrives first receives the money. They have of +late been much troubled at the long distances they have had to +run, and they look with disfavour on the election of artists who +live at Hampstead or at Bedford Park, for it is considered a +point of honour not to employ the underground railway, omnibuses, +or any artificial means of locomotion. The race is to the +swift.</p> +<p>Besides the professional posers of the studio there are posers +of the Row, the posers at afternoon teas, the posers in politics +and the circus posers. All four classes are delightful, but +only the last class is ever really decorative. Acrobats and +gymnasts can give the young painter infinite suggestions, for +they bring into their art an element of swiftness of motion and +of constant change that the studio model necessarily lacks. +What is interesting in these ‘slaves of the ring’ is +that with them Beauty is an unconscious result not a conscious +aim, the result in fact of the mathematical calculation of curves +and distances, of absolute precision of eye, of the scientific +knowledge of the equilibrium of forces, and of perfect physical +training. A good acrobat is always graceful, though grace +is never his object; he is graceful because he does what he has +to do in the best way in which it can be done—graceful +because he is natural. If an ancient Greek were to come to +life now, which considering the probable severity of his +criticisms would be rather trying to our conceit, he would be +found far oftener at the circus than at the theatre. A good +circus is an oasis of Hellenism in a world that reads too much to +be wise, and thinks too much to be beautiful. If it were +not for the running-ground at Eton, the towing-path at Oxford, +the Thames swimming-baths, and the yearly circuses, humanity +would forget the plastic perfection of its own form, and +degenerate into a race of short-sighted professors and spectacled +<i>précieuses</i>. Not that the circus proprietors +are, as a rule, conscious of their high mission. Do they +not bore us with the <i>haute école</i>, and weary us with +Shakespearean clowns? Still, at least, they give us +acrobats, and the acrobat is an artist. The mere fact that +he never speaks to the audience shows how well he appreciates the +great truth that the aim of art is not to reveal personality but +to please. The clown may be blatant, but the acrobat is +always beautiful. He is an interesting combination of the +spirit of Greek sculpture with the spangles of the modern +costumier. He has even had his niche in the novels of our +age, and if <i>Manette Salomon</i> be the unmasking of the model, +<i>Les Frères Zemganno</i> is the apotheosis of the +acrobat.</p> +<p>As regards the influence of the ordinary model on our English +school of painting, it cannot be said that it is altogether +good. It is, of course, an advantage for the young artist +sitting in his studio to be able to isolate ‘a little +corner of life,’ as the French say, from disturbing +surroundings, and to study it under certain effects of light and +shade. But this very isolation leads often to mere +mannerism in the painter, and robs him of that broad acceptance +of the general facts of life which is the very essence of +art. Model-painting, in a word, while it may be the +condition of art, is not by any means its aim.</p> +<p>It is simply practice, not perfection. Its use trains +the eye and the hand of the painter, its abuse produces in his +work an effect of mere posing and prettiness. It is the +secret of much of the artificiality of modern art, this constant +posing of pretty people, and when art becomes artificial it +becomes monotonous. Outside the little world of the studio, +with its draperies and its <i>bric-à-brac</i>, lies the +world of life with its infinite, its Shakespearean variety. +We must, however, distinguish between the two kinds of models, +those who sit for the figure and those who sit for the +costume. The study of the first is always excellent, but +the costume-model is becoming rather wearisome in modern +pictures. It is really of very little use to dress up a +London girl in Greek draperies and to paint her as a +goddess. The robe may be the robe of Athens, but the face +is usually the face of Brompton. Now and then, it is true, +one comes across a model whose face is an exquisite anachronism, +and who looks lovely and natural in the dress of any century but +her own. This, however, is rather rare. As a rule +models are absolutely <i>de notre siècle</i>, and should +be painted as such. Unfortunately they are not, and, as a +consequence, we are shown every year a series of scenes from +fancy dress balls which are called historical pictures, but are +little more than mediocre representations of modern people +masquerading. In France they are wiser. The French +painter uses the model simply for study; for the finished picture +he goes direct to life.</p> +<p>However, we must not blame the sitters for the shortcomings of +the artists. The English models are a well-behaved and +hard-working class, and if they are more interested in artists +than in art, a large section of the public is in the same +condition, and most of our modern exhibitions seem to justify its +choice.</p> +<h2><a name="page227"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +227</span>POEMS IN PROSE</h2> +<p class="gutsumm"><i>Fortnight Review</i>, July 1894.</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Artist</span></h3> +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> evening there came into his +soul the desire to fashion an image of <i>The Pleasure that +abideth for a Moment</i>. And he went forth into the world +to look for bronze. For he could think only in bronze.</p> +<p>But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, nor +anywhere in the whole world was there any bronze to be found, +save only the bronze of the image of <i>The Sorrow that endureth +for Ever</i>.</p> +<p>Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, +fashioned, and had set it on the tomb of the one thing he had +loved in life. On the tomb of the dead thing he had most +loved had he set this image of his own fashioning, that it might +serve as a sign of the love of man that dieth not, and a symbol +of the sorrow of man that endureth for ever. And in the +whole world there was no other bronze save the bronze of this +image.</p> +<p>And he took the image he had fashioned, and set it in a great +furnace, and gave it to the fire.</p> +<p>And out of the bronze of the image of <i>The Sorrow that +endureth for Ever</i> he fashioned an image of <i>The Pleasure +that abideth for a Moment</i>.</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Doer of Good</span></h3> +<p>It was night-time and He was alone.</p> +<p>And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards +the city.</p> +<p>And when He came near He heard within the city the tread of +the feet of joy, and the laughter of the mouth of gladness and +the loud noise of many lutes. And He knocked at the gate +and certain of the gate-keepers opened to Him.</p> +<p>And He beheld a house that was of marble and had fair pillars +of marble before it. The pillars were hung with garlands, +and within and without there were torches of cedar. And He +entered the house.</p> +<p>And when He had passed through the hall of chalcedony and the +hall of jasper, and reached the long hall of feasting, He saw +lying on a couch of sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with +red roses and whose lips were red with wine.</p> +<p>And He went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and +said to him, ‘Why do you live like this?’</p> +<p>And the young man turned round and recognised Him, and made +answer and said, ‘But I was a leper once, and you healed +me. How else should I live?’</p> +<p>And He passed out of the house and went again into the +street.</p> +<p>And after a little while He saw one whose face and raiment +were painted and whose feet were shod with pearls. And +behind her came, slowly as a hunter, a young man who wore a cloak +of two colours. Now the face of the woman was as the fair +face of an idol, and the eyes of the young man were bright with +lust.</p> +<p>And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man +and said to him, ‘Why do you look at this woman and in such +wise?’</p> +<p>And the young man turned round and recognised Him and said, +‘But I was blind once, and you gave me sight. At what +else should I look?’</p> +<p>And He ran forward and touched the painted raiment of the +woman and said to her, ‘Is there no other way in which to +walk save the way of sin?’</p> +<p>And the woman turned round and recognised Him, and laughed and +said, ‘But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a +pleasant way.’</p> +<p>And He passed out of the city.</p> +<p>And when He had passed out of the city He saw seated by the +roadside a young man who was weeping.</p> +<p>And He went towards him and touched the long locks of his hair +and said to him, ‘Why are you weeping?’</p> +<p>And the young man looked up and recognised Him and made +answer, ‘But I was dead once, and you raised me from the +dead. What else should I do but weep?’</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Disciple</span></h3> +<p>When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a +cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came +weeping through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and +give it comfort.</p> +<p>And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of +sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green +tresses of their hair and cried to the pool and said, ‘We +do not wonder that you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, +so beautiful was he.’</p> +<p>‘But was Narcissus beautiful?’ said the pool.</p> +<p>‘Who should know that better than you?’ answered +the Oreads. ‘Us did he ever pass by, but you he +sought for, and would lie on your banks and look down at you, and +in the mirror of your waters he would mirror his own +beauty.’</p> +<p>And the pool answered, ‘But I loved Narcissus because, +as he lay on my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his +eyes I saw ever my own beauty mirrored.’</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Master</span></h3> +<p>Now when the darkness came over the earth Joseph of Arimathea, +having lighted a torch of pinewood, passed down from the hill +into the valley. For he had business in his own home.</p> +<p>And kneeling on the flint stones of the Valley of Desolation +he saw a young man who was naked and weeping. His hair was +the colour of honey, and his body was as a white flower, but he +had wounded his body with thorns and on his hair had he set ashes +as a crown.</p> +<p>And he who had great possessions said to the young man who was +naked and weeping, ‘I do not wonder that your sorrow is so +great, for surely He was a just man.’</p> +<p>And the young man answered, ‘It is not for Him that I am +weeping, but for myself. I too have changed water into +wine, and I have healed the leper and given sight to the +blind. I have walked upon the waters, and from the dwellers +in the tombs I have cast out devils. I have fed the hungry +in the desert where there was no food, and I have raised the dead +from their narrow houses, and at my bidding, and before a great +multitude, of people, a barren fig-tree withered away. All +things that this man has done I have done also. And yet +they have not crucified me.’</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The House of Judgment</span></h3> +<p>And there was silence in the House of Judgment, and the Man +came naked before God.</p> +<p>And God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.</p> +<p>And God said to the Man, ‘Thy life hath been evil, and +thou hast shown cruelty to those who were in need of succour, and +to those who lacked help thou hast been bitter and hard of +heart. The poor called to thee and thou didst not hearken, +and thine ears were closed to the cry of My afflicted. The +inheritance of the fatherless thou didst take unto thyself, and +thou didst send the foxes into the vineyard of thy +neighbour’s field. Thou didst take the bread of the +children and give it to the dogs to eat, and My lepers who lived +in the marshes, and were at peace and praised Me, thou didst +drive forth on to the highways, and on Mine earth out of which I +made thee thou didst spill innocent blood.’</p> +<p>And the Man made answer and said, ‘Even so did +I.’</p> +<p>And again God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.</p> +<p>And God said to the Man, ‘Thy life hath been evil, and +the Beauty I have shown thou hast sought for, and the Good I have +hidden thou didst pass by. The walls of thy chamber were +painted with images, and from the bed of thine abominations thou +didst rise up to the sound of flutes. Thou didst build +seven altars to the sins I have suffered, and didst eat of the +thing that may not be eaten, and the purple of thy raiment was +broidered with the three signs of shame. Thine idols were +neither of gold nor of silver that endure, but of flesh that +dieth. Thou didst stain their hair with perfumes and put +pomegranates in their hands. Thou didst stain their feet +with saffron and spread carpets before them. With antimony +thou didst stain their eyelids and their bodies thou didst smear +with myrrh. Thou didst bow thyself to the ground before +them, and the thrones of thine idols were set in the sun. +Thou didst show to the sun thy shame and to the moon thy +madness.’</p> +<p>And the Man made answer and said, ‘Even so did +I.’</p> +<p>And a third time God opened the Book of the Life of the +Man.</p> +<p>And God said to the Man, ‘Evil hath been thy life, and +with evil didst thou requite good, and with wrongdoing +kindness. The hands that fed thee thou didst wound, and the +breasts that gave thee suck thou didst despise. He who came +to thee with water went away thirsting, and the outlawed men who +hid thee in their tents at night thou didst betray before +dawn. Thine enemy who spared thee thou didst snare in an +ambush, and the friend who walked with thee thou didst sell for a +price, and to those who brought thee Love thou didst ever give +Lust in thy turn.’</p> +<p>And the Man made answer and said, ‘Even so did +I.’</p> +<p>And God closed the Book of the Life of the Man, and said, +‘Surely I will send thee into Hell. Even into Hell +will I send thee.’</p> +<p>And the Man cried out, ‘Thou canst not.’</p> +<p>And God said to the Man, ‘Wherefore can I not send thee +to Hell, and for what reason?’</p> +<p>‘Because in Hell have I always lived,’ answered +the Man.</p> +<p>And there was silence in the House of Judgment.</p> +<p>And after a space God spake, and said to the Man, +‘Seeing that I may not send thee into Hell, surely I will +send thee unto Heaven. Even unto Heaven will I send +thee.’</p> +<p>And the Man cried out, ‘Thou canst not.’</p> +<p>And God said to the Man, ‘Wherefore can I not send thee +unto Heaven, and for what reason?’</p> +<p>‘Because never, and in no place, have I been able to +imagine it,’ answered the Man.</p> +<p>And there was silence in the House of Judgment.</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Teacher of Wisdom</span></h3> +<p>From his childhood he had been as one filled with the perfect +knowledge of God, and even while he was yet but a lad many of the +saints, as well as certain holy women who dwelt in the free city +of his birth, had been stirred to much wonder by the grave wisdom +of his answers.</p> +<p>And when his parents had given him the robe and the ring of +manhood he kissed them, and left them and went out into the +world, that he might speak to the world about God. For +there were at that time many in the world who either knew not God +at all, or had but an incomplete knowledge of Him, or worshipped +the false gods who dwell in groves and have no care of their +worshippers.</p> +<p>And he set his face to the sun and journeyed, walking without +sandals, as he had seen the saints walk, and carrying at his +girdle a leathern wallet and a little water-bottle of burnt +clay.</p> +<p>And as he walked along the highway he was full of the joy that +comes from the perfect knowledge of God, and he sang praises unto +God without ceasing; and after a time he reached a strange land +in which there were many cities.</p> +<p>And he passed through eleven cities. And some of these +cities were in valleys, and others were by the banks of great +rivers, and others were set on hills. And in each city he +found a disciple who loved him and followed him, and a great +multitude also of people followed him from each city, and the +knowledge of God spread in the whole land, and many of the rulers +were converted, and the priests of the temples in which there +were idols found that half of their gain was gone, and when they +beat upon their drums at noon none, or but a few, came with +peacocks and with offerings of flesh as had been the custom of +the land before his coming.</p> +<p>Yet the more the people followed him, and the greater the +number of his disciples, the greater became his sorrow. And +he knew not why his sorrow was so great. For he spake ever +about God, and out of the fulness of that perfect knowledge of +God which God had Himself given to him.</p> +<p>And one evening he passed out of the eleventh city, which was +a city of Armenia, and his disciples and a great crowd of people +followed after him; and he went up on to a mountain and sat down +on a rock that was on the mountain, and his disciples stood round +him, and the multitude knelt in the valley.</p> +<p>And he bowed his head on his hands and wept, and said to his +Soul, ‘Why is it that I am full of sorrow and fear, and +that each of my disciples is an enemy that walks in the +noonday?’ And his Soul answered him and said, +‘God filled thee with the perfect knowledge of Himself, and +thou hast given this knowledge away to others. The pearl of +great price thou hast divided, and the vesture without seam thou +hast parted asunder. He who giveth away wisdom robbeth +himself. He is as one who giveth his treasure to a +robber. Is not God wiser than thou art? Who art thou +to give away the secret that God hath told thee? I was rich +once, and thou hast made me poor. Once I saw God, and now +thou hast hidden Him from me.’</p> +<p>And he wept again, for he knew that his Soul spake truth to +him, and that he had given to others the perfect knowledge of +God, and that he was as one clinging to the skirts of God, and +that his faith was leaving him by reason of the number of those +who believed in him.</p> +<p>And he said to himself, ‘I will talk no more about +God. He who giveth away wisdom robbeth himself.’</p> +<p>And after the space of some hours his disciples came near him +and bowed themselves to the ground and said, ‘Master, talk +to us about God, for thou hast the perfect knowledge of God, and +no man save thee hath this knowledge.’</p> +<p>And he answered them and said, ‘I will talk to you about +all other things that are in heaven and on earth, but about God I +will not talk to you. Neither now, nor at any time, will I +talk to you about God.’</p> +<p>And they were wroth with him and said to him, ‘Thou hast +led us into the desert that we might hearken to thee. Wilt +thou send us away hungry, and the great multitude that thou hast +made to follow thee?’</p> +<p>And he answered them and said, ‘I will not talk to you +about God.’</p> +<p>And the multitude murmured against him and said to him, +‘Thou hast led us into the desert, and hast given us no +food to eat. Talk to us about God and it will suffice +us.’</p> +<p>But he answered them not a word. For he knew that if he +spake to them about God he would give away his treasure.</p> +<p>And his disciples went away sadly, and the multitude of people +returned to their own homes. And many died on the way.</p> +<p>And when he was alone he rose up and set his face to the moon, +and journeyed for seven moons, speaking to no man nor making any +answer. And when the seventh moon had waned he reached that +desert which is the desert of the Great River. And having +found a cavern in which a Centaur had once dwelt, he took it for +his place of dwelling, and made himself a mat of reeds on which +to lie, and became a hermit. And every hour the Hermit +praised God that He had suffered him to keep some knowledge of +Him and of His wonderful greatness.</p> +<p>Now, one evening, as the Hermit was seated before the cavern +in which he had made his place of dwelling, he beheld a young man +of evil and beautiful face who passed by in mean apparel and with +empty hands. Every evening with empty hands the young man +passed by, and every morning he returned with his hands full of +purple and pearls. For he was a Robber and robbed the +caravans of the merchants.</p> +<p>And the Hermit looked at him and pitied him. But he +spake not a word. For he knew that he who speaks a word +loses his faith.</p> +<p>And one morning, as the young man returned with his hands full +of purple and pearls, he stopped and frowned and stamped his foot +upon the sand, and said to the Hermit: ‘Why do you look at +me ever in this manner as I pass by? What is it that I see +in your eyes? For no man has looked at me before in this +manner. And the thing is a thorn and a trouble to +me.’</p> +<p>And the Hermit answered him and said, ‘What you see in +my eyes is pity. Pity is what looks out at you from my +eyes.’</p> +<p>And the young man laughed with scorn, and cried to the Hermit +in a bitter voice, and said to him, ‘I have purple and +pearls in my hands, and you have but a mat of reeds on which to +lie. What pity should you have for me? And for what +reason have you this pity?’</p> +<p>‘I have pity for you,’ said the Hermit, +‘because you have no knowledge of God.’</p> +<p>‘Is this knowledge of God a precious thing?’ asked +the young man, and he came close to the mouth of the cavern.</p> +<p>‘It is more precious than all the purple and the pearls +of the world,’ answered the Hermit.</p> +<p>‘And have you got it?’ said the young Robber, and +he came closer still.</p> +<p>‘Once, indeed,’ answered the Hermit, ‘I +possessed the perfect knowledge of God. But in my +foolishness I parted with it, and divided it amongst +others. Yet even now is such knowledge as remains to me +more precious than purple or pearls.’</p> +<p>And when the young Robber heard this he threw away the purple +and the pearls that he was bearing in his hands, and drawing a +sharp sword of curved steel he said to the Hermit, ‘Give +me, forthwith this knowledge of God that you possess, or I will +surely slay you. Wherefore should I not slay him who has a +treasure greater than my treasure?’</p> +<p>And the Hermit spread out his arms and said, ‘Were it +not better for me to go unto the uttermost courts of God and +praise Him, than to live in the world and have no knowledge of +Him? Slay me if that be your desire. But I will not +give away my knowledge of God.’</p> +<p>And the young Robber knelt down and besought him, but the +Hermit would not talk to him about God, nor give him his +Treasure, and the young Robber rose up and said to the Hermit, +‘Be it as you will. As for myself, I will go to the +City of the Seven Sins, that is but three days’ journey +from this place, and for my purple they will give me pleasure, +and for my pearls they will sell me joy.’ And he took +up the purple and the pearls and went swiftly away.</p> +<p>And the Hermit cried out and followed him and besought +him. For the space of three days he followed the young +Robber on the road and entreated him to return, nor to enter into +the City of the Seven Sins.</p> +<p>And ever and anon the young Robber looked back at the Hermit +and called to him, and said, ‘Will you give me this +knowledge of God which is more precious than purple and +pearls? If you will give me that, I will not enter the +city.’</p> +<p>And ever did the Hermit answer, ‘All things that I have +I will give thee, save that one thing only. For that thing +it is not lawful for me to give away.’</p> +<p>And in the twilight of the third day they came nigh to the +great scarlet gates of the City of the Seven Sins. And from +the city there came the sound of much laughter.</p> +<p>And the young Robber laughed in answer, and sought to knock at +the gate. And as he did so the Hermit ran forward and +caught him by the skirts of his raiment, and said to him: +‘Stretch forth your hands, and set your arms around my +neck, and put your ear close to my lips, and I will give you what +remains to me of the knowledge of God.’ And the young +Robber stopped.</p> +<p>And when the Hermit had given away his knowledge of God, he +fell upon the ground and wept, and a great darkness hid from him +the city and the young Robber, so that he saw them no more.</p> +<p>And as he lay there weeping he was ware of One who was +standing beside him; and He who was standing beside him had feet +of brass and hair like fine wool. And He raised the Hermit +up, and said to him: ‘Before this time thou hadst the +perfect knowledge of God. Now thou shalt have the perfect +love of God. Wherefore art thou weeping?’ And +he kissed him.</p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> +<p><a name="footnote29"></a><a href="#citation29" +class="footnote">[29]</a> Plato’s <i>Laws</i>; +Æschylus’ <i>Prometheus Bound</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote31"></a><a href="#citation31" +class="footnote">[31]</a> Somewhat in the same spirit +Plato, in his <i>Laws</i>, appeals to the local position of Ilion +among the rivers of the plain, as a proof that it was not built +till long after the Deluge.</p> +<p><a name="footnote32"></a><a href="#citation32" +class="footnote">[32]</a> Plutarch remarks that the +<i>only</i> evidence Greece possesses of the truth that the +legendary power of Athens is no ‘romance or idle +story,’ is the public and sacred buildings. This is +an instance of the exaggerated importance given to ruins against +which Thucydides is warning us.</p> +<p><a name="footnote37"></a><a href="#citation37" +class="footnote">[37]</a> The fictitious sale in the Roman +marriage <i>per coemptionem</i> was originally, of course, a real +sale.</p> +<p><a name="footnote43"></a><a href="#citation43" +class="footnote">[43]</a> Notably, of course, in the case +of heat and its laws.</p> +<p><a name="footnote57"></a><a href="#citation57" +class="footnote">[57]</a> Cousin errs a good deal in this +respect. To say, as he did, ‘Give me the latitude and +the longitude of a country, its rivers and its mountains, and I +will deduce the race,’ is surely a glaring +exaggeration.</p> +<p><a name="footnote59"></a><a href="#citation59" +class="footnote">[59]</a> The monarchical, aristocratical, +and democratic elements of the Roman constitution are referred +to.</p> +<p><a name="footnote63a"></a><a href="#citation63a" +class="footnote">[63a]</a> Polybius, vi. 9. +<i>αὔτη +πολιτειῶν +ἀνακύκλωσις</i>, +<i>αὔτς +φύσεως +οἰκονομία</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote63b"></a><a href="#citation63b" +class="footnote">[63b]</a> +<i>χωρὶς +ὀργῆς ἢ +φθόνου +ποιούμεηος +τὴν +ἀπόφασιν</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote63c"></a><a href="#citation63c" +class="footnote">[63c]</a> The various stages are +<i>σύστασις</i>, +<i>αὔξησις</i>, +<i>ἀκμή</i>, +<i>μεταβολὴ +ἐις +τοὔμπαλιν</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote68"></a><a href="#citation68" +class="footnote">[68]</a> Polybius, xii. 24.</p> +<p><a name="footnote69a"></a><a href="#citation69a" +class="footnote">[69a]</a> Polybius, i. 4, viii. 4, +specially; and really <i>passim</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote69b"></a><a href="#citation69b" +class="footnote">[69b]</a> He makes one exception.</p> +<p><a name="footnote69c"></a><a href="#citation69c" +class="footnote">[69c]</a> Polybius, viii. 4.</p> +<p><a name="footnote71"></a><a href="#citation71" +class="footnote">[71]</a> Polybius, xvi. 12.</p> +<p><a name="footnote72a"></a><a href="#citation72a" +class="footnote">[72a]</a> Polybius, viii. 4: +<i>τὸ +παραδοξάτον +καθ’ ἡμᾶς +ἔργον ἡ τύχη +συνετέλεσε</i>; +<i>τοῦτο δ’ +ἔστι τὸ +πάντα τὰ +γνωριζόμενα +μέρη τῆς +οἰκουμένης +ὑπὸ μίαν +ἀρχὴν καὶ +δυναστείαν +ἀγαγεῖν</i>, <i>ὂ +πρότερον +οὐχ +εὑρίσκεται +γεγονός</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote72b"></a><a href="#citation72b" +class="footnote">[72b]</a> Polybius resembled Gibbon in +many respects. Like him he held that all religions were to +the philosopher equally false, to the vulgar equally true, to the +statesman equally useful.</p> +<p><a name="footnote76"></a><a href="#citation76" +class="footnote">[76]</a> Cf. Polybius, xii. 25, +<i>ἐπεὶ ψιλῶς +λεγόμενον +αὐτὄ +γεγονὸς +ψυχαγωγεῖ +μέν</i>, +<i>ὠφελεῖ δ’ +οὐδέν</i>· +<i>προστεθείσης +δὲ τῆς +αἰτίας +ἔγκαρπος ἡ +τῆς +ἱστορίας +γίγνεται +χρῆσις</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote78"></a><a href="#citation78" +class="footnote">[78]</a> Polybius, xxii. 8.</p> +<p><a name="footnote81"></a><a href="#citation81" +class="footnote">[81]</a> I mean particularly as regards +his sweeping denunciation of the complete moral decadence of +Greek society during the Peloponnesain War, which, from what +remains to us of Athenian literature, we know must have been +completely exaggerated. Or, rather, he is looking at men +merely in their political dealings: and in politics the man who +is personally honourable and refined will not scruple to do +anything for his party.</p> +<p><a name="footnote86"></a><a href="#citation86" +class="footnote">[86]</a> Polybius, xii. 25.</p> +<p><a name="footnote124"></a><a href="#citation124" +class="footnote">[124]</a> As an instance of the inaccuracy +of published reports of this lecture, it may be mentioned that +all unauthorised versions give this passage as <i>The artist may +trace the depressed revolution of Bunthorne simply to the lack of +technical means</i>!</p> +<p><a name="footnote206"></a><a href="#citation206" +class="footnote">[206]</a> <i>The Two Paths</i>, Lect. iii. +p. 123 (1859 ed.).</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS AND LECTURES***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 774-h.htm or 774-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/7/7/774 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Essays and Lectures by Oscar Wilde +Scanned and proofed by David Price, ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +Essays and Lectures + + + + +Contents + +The Rise of Historical Criticism +The English Renaissance of Art +House Decoration +Art and the Handicraftman +Lecture to Art Students +London Models +Poems in Prose + + + + +THE RISE OF HISTORICAL CRITICISM + + + + +CHAPTER I + + + +HISTORICAL criticism nowhere occurs as an isolated fact in the +civilisation or literature of any people. It is part of that +complex working towards freedom which may be described as the +revolt against authority. It is merely one facet of that +speculative spirit of an innovation, which in the sphere of action +produces democracy and revolution, and in that of thought is the +parent of philosophy and physical science; and its importance as a +factor of progress is based not so much on the results it attains, +as on the tone of thought which it represents, and the method by +which it works. + +Being thus the resultant of forces essentially revolutionary, it is +not to be found in the ancient world among the material despotisms +of Asia or the stationary civilisation of Egypt. The clay +cylinders of Assyria and Babylon, the hieroglyphics of the +pyramids, form not history but the material for history. + +The Chinese annals, ascending as they do to the barbarous forest +life of the nation, are marked with a soberness of judgment, a +freedom from invention, which is almost unparalleled in the +writings of any people; but the protective spirit which is the +characteristic of that people proved as fatal to their literature +as to their commerce. Free criticism is as unknown as free trade. +While as regards the Hindus, their acute, analytical and logical +mind is directed rather to grammar, criticism and philosophy than +to history or chronology. Indeed, in history their imagination +seems to have run wild, legend and fact are so indissolubly mingled +together that any attempt to separate them seems vain. If we +except the identification of the Greek Sandracottus with the Indian +Chandragupta, we have really no clue by which we can test the truth +of their writings or examine their method of investigation. + +It is among the Hellenic branch of the Indo-Germanic race that +history proper is to be found, as well as the spirit of historical +criticism; among that wonderful offshoot of the primitive Aryans, +whom we call by the name of Greeks and to whom, as has been well +said, we owe all that moves in the world except the blind forces of +nature. + +For, from the day when they left the chill table-lands of Tibet and +journeyed, a nomad people, to AEgean shores, the characteristic of +their nature has been the search for light, and the spirit of +historical criticism is part of that wonderful Aufklarung or +illumination of the intellect which seems to have burst on the +Greek race like a great flood of light about the sixth century B.C. + +L'ESPRIT D'UN SIECLE NE NAIT PAS ET NE MEURT PAS E JOUR FIXE, and +the first critic is perhaps as difficult to discover as the first +man. It is from democracy that the spirit of criticism borrows its +intolerance of dogmatic authority, from physical science the +alluring analogies of law and order, from philosophy the conception +of an essential unity underlying the complex manifestations of +phenomena. It appears first rather as a changed attitude of mind +than as a principle of research, and its earliest influences are to +be found in the sacred writings. + +For men begin to doubt in questions of religion first, and then in +matters of more secular interest; and as regards the nature of the +spirit of historical criticism itself in its ultimate development, +it is not confined merely to the empirical method of ascertaining +whether an event happened or not, but is concerned also with the +investigation into the causes of events, the general relations +which phenomena of life hold to one another, and in its ultimate +development passes into the wider question of the philosophy of +history. + +Now, while the workings of historical criticism in these two +spheres of sacred and uninspired history are essentially +manifestations of the same spirit, yet their methods are so +different, the canons of evidence so entirely separate, and the +motives in each case so unconnected, that it will be necessary for +a clear estimation of the progress of Greek thought, that we should +consider these two questions entirely apart from one another. I +shall then in both cases take the succession of writers in their +chronological order as representing the rational order - not that +the succession of time is always the succession of ideas, or that +dialectics moves ever in the straight line in which Hegel conceives +its advance. In Greek thought, as elsewhere, there are periods of +stagnation and apparent retrogression, yet their intellectual +development, not merely in the question of historical criticism, +but in their art, their poetry and their philosophy, seems so +essentially normal, so free from all disturbing external +influences, so peculiarly rational, that in following in the +footsteps of time we shall really be progressing in the order +sanctioned by reason. + + + +CHAPTER II + + + +AT an early period in their intellectual development the Greeks +reached that critical point in the history of every civilised +nation, when speculative invades the domain of revealed truth, when +the spiritual ideas of the people can no longer be satisfied by the +lower, material conceptions of their inspired writers, and when men +find it impossible to pour the new wine of free thought into the +old bottles of a narrow and a trammelling creed. + +From their Aryan ancestors they had received the fatal legacy of a +mythology stained with immoral and monstrous stories which strove +to hide the rational order of nature in a chaos of miracles, and to +mar by imputed wickedness the perfection of God's nature - a very +shirt of Nessos in which the Heracles of rationalism barely escaped +annihilation. Now while undoubtedly the speculations of Thales, +and the alluring analogies of law and order afforded by physical +science, were most important forces in encouraging the rise of the +spirit of scepticism, yet it was on its ethical side that the Greek +mythology was chiefly open to attack. + +It is difficult to shake the popular belief in miracles, but no man +will admit sin and immorality as attributes of the Ideal he +worships; so the first symptoms of a new order of thought are shown +in the passionate outcries of Xenophanes and Heraclitos against the +evil things said by Homer of the sons of God; and in the story told +of Pythagoras, how that he saw tortured in Hell the 'two founders +of Greek theology,' we can recognise the rise of the Aufklarung as +clearly as we see the Reformation foreshadowed in the INFERNO of +Dante. + +Any honest belief, then, in the plain truth of these stories soon +succumbed before the destructive effects of the A PRIORI ethical +criticism of this school; but the orthodox party, as is its custom, +found immediately a convenient shelter under the aegis of the +doctrine of metaphors and concealed meanings. + +To this allegorical school the tale of the fight around the walls +of Troy was a mystery, behind which, as behind a veil, were hidden +certain moral and physical truths. The contest between Athena and +Ares was that eternal contest between rational thought and the +brute force of ignorance; the arrows which rattled in the quiver of +the 'Far Darter' were no longer the instruments of vengeance shot +from the golden bow of the child of God, but the common rays of the +sun, which was itself nothing but a mere inert mass of burning +metal. + +Modern investigation, with the ruthlessness of Philistine analysis, +has ultimately brought Helen of Troy down to a symbol of the dawn. +There were Philistines among the Greeks also who saw in the [Greek +text which cannot be reproduced] a mere metaphor for atmospheric +power. + +Now while this tendency to look for metaphors and hidden meanings +must be ranked as one of the germs of historical criticism, yet it +was essentially unscientific. Its inherent weakness is clearly +pointed out by Plato, who showed that while this theory will no +doubt explain many of the current legends, yet, if it is to be +appealed to at all, it must be as a universal principle; a position +he is by no means prepared to admit. + +Like many other great principles it suffered from its disciples, +and furnished its own refutation when the web of Penelope was +analysed into a metaphor of the rules of formal logic, the warp +representing the premises, and the woof the conclusion. + +Rejecting, then, the allegorical interpretation of the sacred +writings as an essentially dangerous method, proving either too +much or too little, Plato himself returns to the earlier mode of +attack, and re-writes history with a didactic purpose, laying down +certain ethical canons of historical criticism. God is good; God +is just; God is true; God is without the common passions of men. +These are the tests to which we are to bring the stories of the +Greek religion. + +'God predestines no men to ruin, nor sends destruction on innocent +cities; He never walks the earth in strange disguise, nor has to +mourn for the death of any well-beloved son. Away with the tears +for Sarpedon, the lying dream sent to Agamemnon, and the story of +the broken covenant!' (Plato, REPUBLIC, Book ii. 380; iii. 388, +391.) + +Similar ethical canons are applied to the accounts of the heroes of +the days of old, and by the same A PRIORI principles Achilles is +rescued from the charges of avarice and insolence in a passage +which may be recited as the earliest instance of that 'whitewashing +of great men,' as it has been called, which is so popular in our +own day, when Catiline and Clodius are represented as honest and +far-seeing politicians, when EINE EDLE UND GUTE NATUR is claimed +for Tiberius, and Nero is rescued from his heritage of infamy as an +accomplished DILETTANTE whose moral aberrations are more than +excused by his exquisite artistic sense and charming tenor voice. + +But besides the allegorising principle of interpretation, and the +ethical reconstruction of history, there was a third theory, which +may be called the semi-historical, and which goes by the name of +Euhemeros, though he was by no means the first to propound it. + +Appealing to a fictitious monument which he declared that he had +discovered in the island of Panchaia, and which purported to be a +column erected by Zeus, and detailing the incidents of his reign on +earth, this shallow thinker attempted to show that the gods and +heroes of ancient Greece were 'mere ordinary mortals, whose +achievements had been a good deal exaggerated and misrepresented,' +and that the proper canon of historical criticism as regards the +treatment of myths was to rationalise the incredible, and to +present the plausible residuum as actual truth. + +To him and his school, the centaurs, for instance, those mythical +sons of the storm, strange links between the lives of men and +animals, were merely some youths from the village of Nephele in +Thessaly, distinguished for their sporting tastes; the 'living +harvest of panoplied knights,' which sprang so mystically from the +dragon's teeth, a body of mercenary troops supported by the profits +on a successful speculation in ivory; and Actaeon, an ordinary +master of hounds, who, living before the days of subscription, was +eaten out of house and home by the expenses of his kennel. + +Now, that under the glamour of myth and legend some substratum of +historical fact may lie, is a proposition rendered extremely +probable by the modern investigations into the workings of the +mythopoeic spirit in post-Christian times. Charlemagne and Roland, +St. Francis and William Tell, are none the less real personages +because their histories are filled with much that is fictitious and +incredible, but in all cases what is essentially necessary is some +external corroboration, such as is afforded by the mention of +Roland and Roncesvalles in the chronicles of England, or (in the +sphere of Greek legend) by the excavations of Hissarlik. But to +rob a mythical narrative of its kernel of supernatural elements, +and to present the dry husk thus obtained as historical fact, is, +as has been well said, to mistake entirely the true method of +investigation and to identify plausibility with truth. + +And as regards the critical point urged by Palaiphatos, Strabo, and +Polybius, that pure invention on Homer's part is inconceivable, we +may without scruple allow it, for myths, like constitutions, grow +gradually, and are not formed in a day. But between a poet's +deliberate creation and historical accuracy there is a wide field +of the mythopoeic faculty. + +This Euhemeristic theory was welcomed as an essentially +philosophical and critical method by the unscientific Romans, to +whom it was introduced by the poet Ennius, that pioneer of +cosmopolitan Hellenicism, and it continued to characterise the tone +of ancient thought on the question of the treatment of mythology +till the rise of Christianity, when it was turned by such writers +as Augustine and Minucius Felix into a formidable weapon of attack +on Paganism. It was then abandoned by all those who still bent the +knee to Athena or to Zeus, and a general return, aided by the +philosophic mystics of Alexandria, to the allegorising principle of +interpretation took place, as the only means of saving the deities +of Olympus from the Titan assaults of the new Galilean God. In +what vain defence, the statue of Mary set in the heart of the +Pantheon can best tell us. + +Religions, however, may be absorbed, but they never are disproved, +and the stories of the Greek mythology, spiritualised by the +purifying influence of Christianity, reappear in many of the +southern parts of Europe in our own day. The old fable that the +Greek gods took service with the new religion under assumed names +has more truth in it than the many care to discover. + +Having now traced the progress of historical criticism in the +special treatment of myth and legend, I shall proceed to +investigate the form in which the same spirit manifested itself as +regards what one may term secular history and secular historians. +The field traversed will be found to be in some respects the same, +but the mental attitude, the spirit, the motive of investigation +are all changed. + +There were heroes before the son of Atreus and historians before +Herodotus, yet the latter is rightly hailed as the father of +history, for in him we discover not merely the empirical connection +of cause and effect, but that constant reference to Laws, which is +the characteristic of the historian proper. + +For all history must be essentially universal; not in the sense of +comprising all the synchronous events of the past time, but through +the universality of the principles employed. And the great +conceptions which unify the work of Herodotus are such as even +modern thought has not yet rejected. The immediate government of +the world by God, the nemesis and punishment which sin and pride +invariably bring with them, the revealing of God's purpose to His +people by signs and omens, by miracles and by prophecy; these are +to Herodotus the laws which govern the phenomena of history. He is +essentially the type of supernatural historian; his eyes are ever +strained to discern the Spirit of God moving over the face of the +waters of life; he is more concerned with final than with efficient +causes. + +Yet we can discern in him the rise of that HISTORIC SENSE which is +the rational antecedent of the science of historical criticism, the +[Greek text which cannot be reproduced], to use the words of a +Greek writer, as opposed to that which comes either [Greek text +which cannot be reproduced]. + +He has passed through the valley of faith and has caught a glimpse +of the sunlit heights of Reason; but like all those who, while +accepting the supernatural, yet attempt to apply the canons of +rationalism, he is essentially inconsistent. For the better +apprehension of the character of this historic sense in Herodotus +it will be necessary to examine at some length the various forms of +criticism in which it manifests itself. + +Such fabulous stories as that of the Phoenix, of the goat-footed +men, of the headless beings with eyes in their breasts, of the men +who slept six months in the year ([Greek text which cannot be +reproduced]), of the wer-wolf of the Neuri, and the like, are +entirely rejected by him as being opposed to the ordinary +experience of life, and to those natural laws whose universal +influence the early Greek physical philosophers had already made +known to the world of thought. Other legends, such as the suckling +of Cyrus by a bitch, or the feather-rain of northern Europe, are +rationalised and explained into a woman's name and a fall of snow. +The supernatural origin of the Scythian nation, from the union of +Hercules and the monstrous Echidna, is set aside by him for the +more probable account that they were a nomad tribe driven by the +Massagetae from Asia; and he appeals to the local names of their +country as proof of the fact that the Kimmerians were the original +possessors. + +But in the case of Herodotus it will be more instructive to pass on +from points like these to those questions of general probability, +the true apprehension of which depends rather on a certain quality +of mind than on any possibility of formulated rules, questions +which form no unimportant part of scientific history; for it must +be remembered always that the canons of historical criticism are +essentially different from those of judicial evidence, for they +cannot, like the latter, be made plain to every ordinary mind, but +appeal to a certain historical faculty founded on the experience of +life. Besides, the rules for the reception of evidence in courts +of law are purely stationary, while the science of historical +probability is essentially progressive, and changes with the +advancing spirit of each age. + +Now, of all the speculative canons of historical criticism, none is +more important than that which rests on psychological probability. + +Arguing from his knowledge of human nature, Herodotus rejects the +presence of Helen within the walls of Troy. Had she been there, he +says, Priam and his kinsmen would never have been so mad ([Greek +text which cannot be reproduced]) as not to give her up, when they +and their children and their city were in such peril (ii. 118); and +as regards the authority of Homer, some incidental passages in his +poem show that he knew of Helen's sojourn in Egypt during the +siege, but selected the other story as being a more suitable motive +for an epic. Similarly he does not believe that the Alcmaeonidae +family, a family who had always been the haters of tyranny ([Greek +text which cannot be reproduced]), and to whom, even more than to +Harmodios and Aristogeiton, Athens owed its liberty, would ever +have been so treacherous as to hold up a shield after the battle of +Marathon as a signal for the Persian host to fall on the city. A +shield, he acknowledges, was held up, but it could not possibly +have been done by such friends of liberty as the house of Alcmaeon; +nor will he believe that a great king like Rhampsinitus would have +sent his daughter [Greek text which cannot be reproduced]. + +Elsewhere he argues from more general considerations of +probability; a Greek courtesan like Rhodopis would hardly have been +rich enough to build a pyramid, and, besides, on chronological +grounds the story is impossible (ii. 134). + +In another passage (ii. 63), after giving an account of the +forcible entry of the priests of Ares into the chapel of the god's +mother, which seems to have been a sort of religious faction fight +where sticks were freely used ([Greek text which cannot be +reproduced]), 'I feel sure,' he says, 'that many of them died from +getting their heads broken, notwithstanding the assertions of the +Egyptian priests to the contrary.' There is also something +charmingly naive in the account he gives of the celebrated Greek +swimmer who dived a distance of eighty stadia to give his +countrymen warning of the Persian advance. 'If, however,' he says, +'I may offer an opinion on the subject, I would say that he came in +a boat.' + +There is, of course, something a little trivial in some of the +instances I have quoted; but in a writer like Herodotus, who stands +on the borderland between faith and rationalism, one likes to note +even the most minute instances of the rise of the critical and +sceptical spirit of inquiry. + +How really strange, at base, it was with him may, I think, be shown +by a reference to those passages where he applies rationalistic +tests to matters connected with religion. He nowhere, indeed, +grapples with the moral and scientific difficulties of the Greek +Bible; and where he rejects as incredible the marvellous +achievements of Hercules in Egypt, he does so on the express +grounds that he had not yet been received among the gods, and so +was still subject to the ordinary conditions of mortal life ([Greek +text which cannot be reproduced]). + +Even within these limits, however, his religious conscience seems +to have been troubled at such daring rationalism, and the passage +(ii. 45) concludes with a pious hope that God will pardon him for +having gone so far, the great rationalistic passage being, of +course, that in which he rejects the mythical account of the +foundation of Dodona. 'How can a dove speak with a human voice?' +he asks, and rationalises the bird into a foreign princess. + +Similarly he seems more inclined to believe that the great storm at +the beginning of the Persian War ceased from ordinary atmospheric +causes, and not in consequence of the incantations of the MAGIANS. +He calls Melampos, whom the majority of the Greeks looked on as an +inspired prophet, 'a clever man who had acquired for himself the +art of prophecy'; and as regards the miracle told of the AEginetan +statues of the primeval deities of Damia and Auxesia, that they +fell on their knees when the sacrilegious Athenians strove to carry +them off, 'any one may believe it,' he says, 'who likes, but as for +myself, I place no credence in the tale.' + +So much then for the rationalistic spirit of historical criticism, +as far as it appears explicitly in the works of this great and +philosophic writer; but for an adequate appreciation of his +position we must also note how conscious he was of the value of +documentary evidence, of the use of inscriptions, of the importance +of the poets as throwing light on manners and customs as well as on +historical incidents. No writer of any age has more vividly +recognised the fact that history is a matter of evidence, and that +it is as necessary for the historian to state his authority as it +is to produce one's witnesses in a court of law. + +While, however, we can discern in Herodotus the rise of an historic +sense, we must not blind ourselves to the large amount of instances +where he receives supernatural influences as part of the ordinary +forces of life. Compared to Thucydides, who succeeded him in the +development of history, he appears almost like a mediaeval writer +matched with a modern rationalist. For, contemporary though they +were, between these two authors there is an infinite chasm of +thought. + +The essential difference of their methods may be best illustrated +from those passages where they treat of the same subject. The +execution of the Spartan heralds, Nicolaos and Aneristos, during +the Peloponnesian War is regarded by Herodotus as one of the most +supernatural instances of the workings of nemesis and the wrath of +an outraged hero; while the lengthened siege and ultimate fall of +Troy was brought about by the avenging hand of God desiring to +manifest unto men the mighty penalties which always follow upon +mighty sins. But Thucydides either sees not, or desires not to +see, in either of these events the finger of Providence, or the +punishment of wicked doers. The death of the heralds is merely an +Athenian retaliation for similar outrages committed by the opposite +side; the long agony of the ten years' siege is due merely to the +want of a good commissariat in the Greek army; while the fall of +the city is the result of a united military attack consequent on a +good supply of provisions. + +Now, it is to be observed that in this latter passage, as well as +elsewhere, Thucydides is in no sense of the word a sceptic as +regards his attitude towards the truth of these ancient legends. + +Agamemnon and Atreus, Theseus and Eurystheus, even Minos, about +whom Herodotus has some doubts, are to him as real personages as +Alcibiades or Gylippus. The points in his historical criticism of +the past are, first, his rejection of all extra-natural +interference, and, secondly, the attributing to these ancient +heroes the motives and modes of thought of his own day. The +present was to him the key to the explanation of the past, as it +was to the prediction of the future. + +Now, as regards his attitude towards the supernatural he is at one +with modern science. We too know that, just as the primeval coal- +beds reveal to us the traces of rain-drops and other atmospheric +phenomena similar to those of our own day, so, in estimating the +history of the past, the introduction of no force must be allowed +whose workings we cannot observe among the phenomena around us. To +lay down canons of ultra-historical credibility for the explanation +of events which happen to have preceded us by a few thousand years, +is as thoroughly unscientific as it is to intermingle preternatural +in geological theories. + +Whatever the canons of art may be, no difficulty in history is so +great as to warrant the introduction of a spirit of spirit [Greek +text which cannot be reproduced], in the sense of a violation of +the laws of nature. + +Upon the other point, however, Thucydides falls into an +anachronism. To refuse to allow the workings of chivalrous and +self-denying motives among the knights of the Trojan crusade, +because he saw none in the faction-loving Athenian of his own day, +is to show an entire ignorance of the various characteristics of +human nature developing under different circumstances, and to deny +to a primitive chieftain like Agamemnon that authority founded on +opinion, to which we give the name of divine right, is to fall into +an historical error quite as gross as attributing to Atreus the +courting of the populace ([Greek text which cannot be reproduced]) +with a view to the Mycenean throne. + +The general method of historical criticism pursued by Thucydides +having been thus indicated, it remains to proceed more into detail +as regards those particular points where he claims for himself a +more rational method of estimating evidence than either the public +or his predecessors possessed. + +'So little pains,' he remarks, 'do the vulgar take in the +investigation of truth, satisfied with their preconceived +opinions,' that the majority of the Greeks believe in a Pitanate +cohort of the Spartan army and in a double vote being the +prerogative of the Spartan kings, neither of which opinions has any +foundation in fact. But the chief point on which he lays stress as +evincing the 'uncritical way with which men receive legends, even +the legends of their own country,' is the entire baselessness of +the common Athenian tradition in which Harmodios and Aristogeiton +were represented as the patriotic liberators of Athens from the +Peisistratid tyranny. So far, he points out, from the love of +freedom being their motive, both of them were influenced by merely +personal considerations, Aristogeiton being jealous of Hipparchos' +attention to Harmodios, then a beautiful boy in the flower of Greek +loveliness, while the latter's indignation was aroused by an insult +offered to his sister by the prince. + +Their motives, then, were personal revenge, while the result of +their conspiracy served only to rivet more tightly the chains of +servitude which bound Athens to the Peisistratid house, for +Hipparchos, whom they killed, was only the tyrant's younger +brother, and not the tyrant himself. + +To prove his theory that Hippias was the elder, he appeals to the +evidence afforded by a public inscription in which his name occurs +immediately after that of his father, a point which he thinks shows +that he was the eldest, and so the heir. This view he further +corroborates by another inscription, on the altar of Apollo, which +mentions the children of Hippias and not those of his brothers; +'for it was natural for the eldest to be married first'; and +besides this, on the score of general probability he points out +that, had Hippias been the younger, he would not have so easily +obtained the tyranny on the death of Hipparchos. + +Now, what is important in Thucydides, as evinced in the treatment +of legend generally, is not the results he arrived at, but the +method by which he works. The first great rationalistic historian, +he may be said to have paved the way for all those who followed +after him, though it must always be remembered that, while the +total absence in his pages of all the mystical paraphernalia of the +supernatural theory of life is an advance in the progress of +rationalism, and an era in scientific history, whose importance +could never be over-estimated, yet we find along with it a total +absence of any mention of those various social and economical +forces which form such important factors in the evolution of the +world, and to which Herodotus rightly gave great prominence in his +immortal work. The history of Thucydides is essentially one-sided +and incomplete. The intricate details of sieges and battles, +subjects with which the historian proper has really nothing to do +except so far as they may throw light on the spirit of the age, we +would readily exchange for some notice of the condition of private +society in Athens, or the influence and position of women. + +There is an advance in the method of historical criticism; there is +an advance in the conception and motive of history itself; for in +Thucydides we may discern that natural reaction against the +intrusion of didactic and theological considerations into the +sphere of the pure intellect, the spirit of which may be found in +the Euripidean treatment of tragedy and the later schools of art, +as well as in the Platonic conception of science. + +History, no doubt, has splendid lessons for our instruction, just +as all good art comes to us as the herald of the noblest truth. +But, to set before either the painter or the historian the +inculcation of moral lessons as an aim to be consciously pursued, +is to miss entirely the true motive and characteristic both of art +and history, which is in the one case the creation of beauty, in +the other the discovery of the laws of the evolution of progress: +IL NE FAUT DEMANDER DE L'ART QUE L'ART, DU PASSE QUE LE PASSE. + +Herodotus wrote to illustrate the wonderful ways of Providence and +the nemesis that falls on sin, and his work is a good example of +the truth that nothing can dispense with criticism so much as a +moral aim. Thucydides has no creed to preach, no doctrine to +prove. He analyses the results which follow inevitably from +certain antecedents, in order that on a recurrence of the same +crisis men may know how to act. + +His object was to discover the laws of the past so as to serve as a +light to illumine the future. We must not confuse the recognition +of the utility of history with any ideas of a didactic aim. Two +points more in Thucydides remain for our consideration: his +treatment of the rise of Greek civilisation, and of the primitive +condition of Hellas, as well as the question how far can he be said +really to have recognised the existence of laws regulating the +complex phenomena of life. + + + +CHAPTER III + + + +THE investigation into the two great problems of the origin of +society and the philosophy of history occupies such an important +position in the evolution of Greek thought that, to obtain any +clear view of the workings of the critical spirit, it will be +necessary to trace at some length their rise and scientific +development as evinced not merely in the works of historians +proper, but also in the philosophical treatises of Plato and +Aristotle. The important position which these two great thinkers +occupy in the progress of historical criticism can hardly be over- +estimated. I do not mean merely as regards their treatment of the +Greek Bible, and Plato's endeavours to purge sacred history of its +immorality by the application of ethical canons at the time when +Aristotle was beginning to undermine the basis of miracles by his +scientific conception of law, but with reference to these two wider +questions of the rise of civil institutions and the philosophy of +history. + +And first, as regards the current theories of the primitive +condition of society, there was a wide divergence of opinion in +Hellenic society, just as there is now. For while the majority of +the orthodox public, of whom Hesiod may be taken as the +representative, looked back, as a great many of our own day still +do, to a fabulous age of innocent happiness, a BELL' ETE DELL' +AURO, where sin and death were unknown and men and women were like +Gods, the foremost men of intellect such as Aristotle and Plato, +AEschylus and many of the other poets (1) saw in primitive man 'a +few small sparks of humanity preserved on the tops of mountains +after some deluge,' 'without an idea of cities, governments or +legislation,' 'living the lives of wild beasts in sunless caves,' +'their only law being the survival of the fittest.' + +And this, too, was the opinion of Thucydides, whose ARCHAEOLOGIA as +it is contains a most valuable disquisition on the early condition +of Hellas, which it will be necessary to examine at some length. + +Now, as regards the means employed generally by Thucydides for the +elucidation of ancient history, I have already pointed out how +that, while acknowledging that 'it is the tendency of every poet to +exaggerate, as it is of every chronicler to seek to be attractive +at the expense of truth; he yet assumes in the thoroughly +euhemeristic way, that under the veil of myth and legend there does +yet exist a rational basis of fact discoverable by the method of +rejecting all supernatural interference as well as any +extraordinary motives influencing the actors. It is in complete +accordance with this spirit that he appeals, for instance, to the +Homeric epithet of [Greek text which cannot be reproduced], as +applied to Corinth, as a proof of the early commercial prosperity +of that city; to the fact of the generic name HELLENES not +occurring in the ILIAD as a corroboration of his theory of the +essentially disunited character of the primitive Greek tribes; and +he argues from the line 'O'er many islands and all Argos ruled,' as +applied to Agamemnon, that his forces must have been partially +naval, 'for Agamemnon's was a continental power, and he could not +have been master of any but the adjacent islands, and these would +not be many but through the possession of a fleet.' + +Anticipating in some measure the comparative method of research, he +argues from the fact of the more barbarous Greek tribes, such as +the AEtolians and Acarnanians, still carrying arms in his own day, +that this custom was the case originally over the whole country. +'The fact,' he says, 'that the people in these parts of Hellas are +still living in the old way points to a time when the same mode of +life was equally common to all.' Similarly, in another passage, he +shows how a corroboration of his theory of the respectable +character of piracy in ancient days is afforded by 'the honour with +which some of the inhabitants of the continent still regard a +successful marauder,' as well as by the fact that the question, +'Are you a pirate?' is a common feature of primitive society as +shown in the poets; and finally, after observing how the old Greek +custom of wearing belts in gymnastic contests still survived among +the more uncivilised Asiatic tribes, he observes that there are +many other points in which a likeness may be shown between the life +of the primitive Hellenes and that of the barbarians to-day.' + +As regards the evidence afforded by ancient remains, while adducing +as a proof of the insecure character of early Greek society the +fact of their cities (2) being always built at some distance from +the sea, yet he is careful to warn us, and the caution ought to be +borne in mind by all archaeologists, that we have no right to +conclude from the scanty remains of any city that its legendary +greatness in primitive times was a mere exaggeration. 'We are not +justified,' he says, 'in rejecting the tradition of the magnitude +of the Trojan armament, because Mycenae and the other towns of that +age seem to us small and insignificant. For, if Lacedaemon was to +become desolate, any antiquarian judging merely from its ruins +would be inclined to regard the tale of the Spartan hegemony as an +idle myth; for the city is a mere collection of villages after the +old fashion of Hellas, and has none of those splendid public +buildings and temples which characterise Athens, and whose remains, +in the case of the latter city, would be so marvellous as to lead +the superficial observer into an exaggerated estimate of the +Athenian power.' Nothing can be more scientific than the +archaeological canons laid down, whose truth is strikingly +illustrated to any one who has compared the waste fields of the +Eurotas plain with the lordly monuments of the Athenian acropolis. +(3) + +On the other hand, Thucydides is quite conscious of the value of +the positive evidence afforded by archaeological remains. He +appeals, for instance, to the character of the armour found in the +Delian tombs and the peculiar mode of sepulture, as corroboration +of his theory of the predominance of the Carian element among the +primitive islanders, and to the concentration of all the temples +either in the Acropolis, or in its immediate vicinity, to the name +of [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] by which it was still +known, and to the extraordinary sanctity of the spring of water +there, as proof that the primitive city was originally confined to +the citadel, and the district immediately beneath it (ii. 16). And +lastly, in the very opening of his history, anticipating one of the +most scientific of modern methods, he points out how in early +states of civilisation immense fertility of the soil tends to +favour the personal aggrandisement of individuals, and so to stop +the normal progress of the country through 'the rise of factions, +that endless source of ruin'; and also by the allurements it offers +to a foreign invader, to necessitate a continual change of +population, one immigration following on another. He exemplifies +his theory by pointing to the endless political revolutions that +characterised Arcadia, Thessaly and Boeotia, the three richest +spots in Greece, as well as by the negative instance of the +undisturbed state in primitive time of Attica, which was always +remarkable for the dryness and poverty of its soil. + +Now, while undoubtedly in these passages we may recognise the first +anticipation of many of the most modern principles of research, we +must remember how essentially limited is the range of the +ARCHAEOLOGIA, and how no theory at all is offered on the wider +questions of the general conditions of the rise and progress of +humanity, a problem which is first scientifically discussed in the +REPUBLIC of Plato. + +And at the outset it must be premised that, while the study of +primitive man is an essentially inductive science, resting rather +on the accumulation of evidence than on speculation, among the +Greeks it was prosecuted rather on deductive principles. +Thucydides did, indeed, avail himself of the opportunities afforded +by the unequal development of civilisation in his own day in +Greece, and in the places I have pointed out seems to have +anticipated the comparative method. But we do not find later +writers availing themselves of the wonderfully accurate and +picturesque accounts given by Herodotus of the customs of savage +tribes. To take one instance, which bears a good deal on modern +questions, we find in the works of this great traveller the gradual +and progressive steps in the development of the family life clearly +manifested in the mere gregarious herding together of the +Agathyrsi, their primitive kinsmanship through women in common, and +the rise of a feeling of paternity from a state of polyandry. This +tribe stood at that time on that borderland between umbilical +relationship and the family which has been such a difficult point +for modern anthropologists to find. + +The ancient authors, however, are unanimous in insisting that the +family is the ultimate unit of society, though, as I have said, an +inductive study of primitive races, or even the accounts given of +them by Herodotus, would have shown them that the [Greek text which +cannot be reproduced] of a personal household, to use Plato's +expression, is really a most complex notion appearing always in a +late stage of civilisation, along with recognition of private +property and the rights of individualism. + +Philology also, which in the hands of modern investigators has +proved such a splendid instrument of research, was in ancient days +studied on principles too unscientific to be of much use. +Herodotus points out that the word ERIDANOS is essentially Greek in +character, that consequently the river supposed to run round the +world is probably a mere Greek invention. His remarks, however, on +language generally, as in the case of PIROMIS and the ending of the +Persian names, show on what unsound basis his knowledge of language +rested. + +In the BACCHAE of Euripides there is an extremely interesting +passage in which the immoral stories of the Greek mythology are +accounted for on the principle of that misunderstanding of words +and metaphors to which modern science has given the name of a +disease of language. In answer to the impious rationalism of +Pentheus - a sort of modern Philistine - Teiresias, who may be +termed the Max Muller of the Theban cycle, points out that the +story of Dionysus being inclosed in Zeus' thigh really arose from +the linguistic confusion between [Greek text which cannot be +reproduced] and [Greek text which cannot be reproduced]. + +On the whole, however - for I have quoted these two instances only +to show the unscientific character of early philology - we may say +that this important instrument in recreating the history of the +past was not really used by the ancients as a means of historical +criticism. Nor did the ancients employ that other method, used to +such advantage in our own day, by which in the symbolism and +formulas of an advanced civilisation we can detect the unconscious +survival of ancient customs: for, whereas in the sham capture of +the bride at a marriage feast, which was common in Wales till a +recent time, we can discern the lingering reminiscence of the +barbarous habit of exogamy, the ancient writers saw only the +deliberate commemoration of an historical event. + +Aristotle does not tell us by what method he discovered that the +Greeks used to buy their wives in primitive times, but, judging by +his general principles, it was probably through some legend or myth +on the subject which lasted to his own day, and not, as we would +do, by arguing back from the marriage presents given to the bride +and her relatives. (4) + +The origin of the common proverb 'worth so many beeves,' in which +we discern the unconscious survival of a purely pastoral state of +society before the use of metals was known, is ascribed by Plutarch +to the fact of Theseus having coined money bearing a bull's head. +Similarly, the Amathusian festival, in which a young man imitated +the labours of a woman in travail, is regarded by him as a rite +instituted in Ariadne's honour, and the Carian adoration of +asparagus as a simple commemoration of the adventure of the nymph +Perigune. In the first of these WE discern the beginning of +agnation and kinsmanship through the father, which still lingers in +the 'couvee' of New Zealand tribes: while the second is a relic of +the totem and fetish worship of plants. + +Now, in entire opposition to this modern inductive principle of +research stands the philosophic Plato, whose account of primitive +man is entirely speculative and deductive. + +The origin of society he ascribes to necessity, the mother of all +inventions, and imagines that individual man began deliberately to +herd together on account of the advantages of the principle of +division of labour and the rendering of mutual need. + +It must, however, be borne in mind that Plato's object in this +whole passage in the REPUBLIC was, perhaps, not so much to analyse +the conditions of early society as to illustrate the importance of +the division of labour, the shibboleth of his political economy, by +showing what a powerful factor it must have been in the most +primitive as well as in the most complex states of society; just as +in the LAWS he almost rewrites entirely the history of the +Peloponnesus in order to prove the necessity of a balance of power. +He surely, I mean, must have recognised himself how essentially +incomplete his theory was in taking no account of the origin of +family life, the position and influence of women, and other social +questions, as well as in disregarding those deeper motives of +religion, which are such important factors in early civilisation, +and whose influence Aristotle seems to have clearly apprehended, +when he says that the aim of primitive society was not merely life +but the higher life, and that in the origin of society utility is +not the sole motive, but that there is something spiritual in it +if, at least, 'spiritual' will bring out the meaning of that +complex expression [Greek text which cannot be reproduced]. +Otherwise, the whole account in the REPUBLIC of primitive man will +always remain as a warning against the intrusion of A PRIORI +speculations in the domain appropriate to induction. + +Now, Aristotle's theory of the origin of society, like his +philosophy of ethics, rests ultimately on the principle of final +causes, not in the theological meaning of an aim or tendency +imposed from without, but in the scientific sense of function +corresponding to organ. 'Nature maketh no thing in vain' is the +text of Aristotle in this as in other inquiries. Man being the +only animal possessed of the power of rational speech is, he +asserts, by nature intended to be social, more so than the bee or +any other gregarious animal. + +He is [Greek text which cannot be reproduced], and the national +tendency towards higher forms of perfection brings the 'armed +savage who used to sell his wife' to the free independence of a +free state, and to the [Greek text which cannot be reproduced], +which was the test of true citizenship. The stages passed through +by humanity start with the family first as the ultimate unit. + +The conglomeration of families forms a village ruled by that +patriarchal sway which is the oldest form of government in the +world, as is shown by the fact that all men count it to be the +constitution of heaven, and the villages are merged into the state, +and here the progression stops. + +For Aristotle, like all Greek thinkers, found his ideal within the +walls of the [Greek text which cannot be reproduced], yet perhaps +in his remark that a united Greece would rule the world we may +discern some anticipation of that 'federal union of free states +into one consolidated empire' which, more than the [Greek text +which cannot be reproduced], is to our eyes the ultimately perfect +polity. + +How far Aristotle was justified in regarding the family as the +ultimate unit, with the materials afforded to him by Greek +literature, I have already noticed. Besides, Aristotle, I may +remark, had he reflected on the meaning of that Athenian law which, +while prohibiting marriage with a uterine sister, permitted it with +a sister-german, or on the common tradition in Athens that before +the time of Cecrops children bore their mothers' names, or on some +of the Spartan regulations, could hardly have failed to see the +universality of kinsmanship through women in early days, and the +late appearance of monandry. Yet, while he missed this point, in +common, it must be acknowledged, with many modern writers, such as +Sir Henry Maine, it is essentially as an explorer of inductive +instances that we recognise his improvement on Plato. The treatise +[Greek text which cannot be reproduced], did it remain to us in its +entirety, would have been one of the most valuable landmarks in the +progress of historical criticism, and the first scientific treatise +on the science of comparative politics. + +A few fragments still remain to us, in one of which we find +Aristotle appealing to the authority of an ancient inscription on +the 'Disk of Iphitus,' one of the most celebrated Greek +antiquities, to corroborate his theory of the Lycurgean revival of +the Olympian festival; while his enormous research is evinced in +the elaborate explanation he gives of the historical origin of +proverbs such as [Greek text which cannot be reproduced], of +religious songs like the [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] of +the Botticean virgins, or the praises of love and war. + +And, finally, it is to be observed how much wider than Plato's his +theory of the origin of society is. They both rest on a +psychological basis, but Aristotle's recognition of the capacity +for progress and the tendency towards a higher life shows how much +deeper his knowledge of human nature was. + +In imitation of these two philosophers, Polybius gives an account +of the origin of society in the opening to his philosophy of +history. Somewhat in the spirit of Plato, he imagines that after +one of the cyclic deluges which sweep off mankind at stated periods +and annihilate all pre-existing civilisation, the few surviving +members of humanity coalesce for mutual protection, and, as in the +case with ordinary animals, the one most remarkable for physical +strength is elected king. In a short time, owing to the workings +of sympathy and the desire of approbation, the moral qualities +begin to make their appearance, and intellectual instead of bodily +excellence becomes the qualification for sovereignty. + +Other points, as the rise of law and the like, are dwelt on in a +somewhat modern spirit, and although Polybius seems not to have +employed the inductive method of research in this question, or +rather, I should say, of the hierarchical order of the rational +progress of ideas in life, he is not far removed from what the +laborious investigations of modern travellers have given us. + +And, indeed, as regards the working of the speculative faculty in +the creation of history, it is in all respects marvellous how that +the most truthful accounts of the passage from barbarism to +civilisation in ancient literature come from the works of poets. +The elaborate researches of Mr. Tylor and Sir John Lubbock have +done little more than verify the theories put forward in the +PROMETHEUS BOUND and the DE NATURA RERUM; yet neither AEschylus nor +Lucretias followed in the modern path, but rather attained to truth +by a certain almost mystic power of creative imagination, such as +we now seek to banish from science as a dangerous power, though to +it science seems to owe many of its most splendid generalities. (5) + +Leaving then the question of the origin of society as treated by +the ancients, I shall now turn to the other and the more important +question of how far they may he said to have attained to what we +call the philosophy of history. + +Now at the outset we must note that, while the conceptions of law +and order have been universally received as the governing +principles of the phenomena of nature in the sphere of physical +science, yet their intrusion into the domain of history and the +life of man has always been met with a strong opposition, on the +ground of the incalculable nature of two great forces acting on +human action, a certain causeless spontaneity which men call free +will, and the extra-natural interference which they attribute as a +constant attribute to God. + +Now, that there is a science of the apparently variable phenomena +of history is a conception which WE have perhaps only recently +begun to appreciate; yet, like all other great thoughts, it seems +to have come to the Greek mind spontaneously, through a certain +splendour of imagination, in the morning tide of their +civilisation, before inductive research had armed them with the +instruments of verification. For I think it is possible to discern +in some of the mystic speculations of the early Greek thinkers that +desire to discover what is that 'invariable existence of which +there are variable states,' and to incorporate it in some one +formula of law which may serve to explain the different +manifestations of all organic bodies, MAN INCLUDED, which is the +germ of the philosophy of history; the germ indeed of an idea of +which it is not too much to say that on it any kind of historical +criticism, worthy of the name, must ultimately rest. + +For the very first requisite for any scientific conception of +history is the doctrine of uniform sequence: in other words, that +certain events having happened, certain other events corresponding +to them will happen also; that the past is the key of the future. + +Now at the birth of this great conception science, it is true, +presided, yet religion it was which at the outset clothed it in its +own garb, and familiarised men with it by appealing to their hearts +first and then to their intellects; knowing that at the beginning +of things it is through the moral nature, and not through the +intellectual, that great truths are spread. + +So in Herodotus, who may be taken as a representative of the +orthodox tone of thought, the idea of the uniform sequence of cause +and effect appears under the theological aspect of Nemesis and +Providence, which is really the scientific conception of law, only +it is viewed from an ETHICAL standpoint. + +Now in Thucydides the philosophy of history rests on the +probability, which the uniformity of human nature affords us, that +the future will in the course of human things resemble the past, if +not reproduce it. He appears to contemplate a recurrence of the +phenomena of history as equally certain with a return of the +epidemic of the Great Plague. + +Notwithstanding what German critics have written on the subject, we +must beware of regarding this conception as a mere reproduction of +that cyclic theory of events which sees in the world nothing but +the regular rotation of Strophe and Antistrophe, in the eternal +choir of life and death. + +For, in his remarks on the excesses of the Corcyrean Revolution, +Thucydides distinctly rests his idea of the recurrence of history +on the psychological grounds of the general sameness of mankind. + +'The sufferings,' he says, 'which revolution entailed upon the +cities were many and terrible, such as have occurred and always +will occurs as long as human nature remains the same, though in a +severer or milder form, and varying in their symptoms according to +the variety of the particular cases. + +'In peace and prosperity states and individuals have better +sentiments, because they are not confronted with imperious +necessities; but war takes away the easy supply of men's wants, and +so proves a hard taskmaster, which brings most men's characters to +a level with their fortunes.' + + + +CHAPTER IV + + + +IT is evident that here Thucydides is ready to admit the variety of +manifestations which external causes bring about in their workings +on the uniform character of the nature of man. Yet, after all is +said, these are perhaps but very general statements: the ordinary +effects of peace and war are dwelt on, but there is no real +analysis of the immediate causes and general laws of the phenomena +of life, nor does Thucydides seem to recognise the truth that if +humanity proceeds in circles, the circles are always widening. + +Perhaps we may say that with him the philosophy of history is +partly in the metaphysical stage, and see, in the progress of this +idea from Herodotus to Polybius, the exemplification of the Comtian +Law of the three stages of thought, the theological, the +metaphysical, and the scientific: for truly out of the vagueness +of theological mysticism this conception which we call the +Philosophy of History was raised to a scientific principle, +according to which the past was explained and the future predicted +by reference to general laws. + +Now, just as the earliest account of the nature of the progress of +humanity is to be found in Plato, so in him we find the first +explicit attempt to found a universal philosophy of history upon +wide rational grounds. Having created an ideally perfect state, +the philosopher proceeds to give an elaborate theory of the complex +causes which produce revolutions, of the moral effects of various +forms of government and education, of the rise of the criminal +classes and their connection with pauperism, and, in a word, to +create history by the deductive method and to proceed from A PRIORI +psychological principles to discover the governing laws of the +apparent chaos of political life. + +There have been many attempts since Plato to deduce from a single +philosophical principle all the phenomena which experience +subsequently verifies for us. Fichte thought he could predict the +world-plan from the idea of universal time. Hegel dreamed he had +found the key to the mysteries of life in the development of +freedom, and Krause in the categories of being. But the one +scientific basis on which the true philosophy of history must rest +is the complete knowledge of the laws of human nature in all its +wants, its aspirations, its powers and its tendencies: and this +great truth, which Thucydides may be said in some measure to have +apprehended, was given to us first by Plato. + +Now, it cannot be accurately said of this philosopher that either +his philosophy or his history is entirely and simply A PRIORI. ON +EST DE SON SIECLE MEME QUAND ON Y PROTESTE, and so we find in him +continual references to the Spartan mode of life, the Pythagorean +system, the general characteristics of Greek tyrannies and Greek +democracies. For while, in his account of the method of forming an +ideal state, he says that the political artist is indeed to fix his +gaze on the sun of abstract truth in the heavens of the pure +reason, but is sometimes to turn to the realisation of the ideals +on earth: yet, after all, the general character of the Platonic +method, which is what we are specially concerned with, is +essentially deductive and A PRIORI. And he himself, in the +building up of his Nephelococcygia, certainly starts with a [Greek +text which cannot be reproduced], making a clean sweep of all +history and all experience; and it was essentially as an A PRIORI +theorist that he is criticised by Aristotle, as we shall see later. + +To proceed to closer details regarding the actual scheme of the +laws of political revolutions as drawn out by Plato, we must first +note that the primary cause of the decay of the ideal state is the +general principle, common to the vegetable and animal worlds as +well as to the world of history, that all created things are fated +to decay - a principle which, though expressed in the terms of a +mere metaphysical abstraction, is yet perhaps in its essence +scientific. For we too must hold that a continuous redistribution +of matter and motion is the inevitable result of the nominal +persistence of Force, and that perfect equilibrium is as impossible +in politics as it certainly is in physics. + +The secondary causes which mar the perfection of the Platonic 'city +of the sun' are to be found in the intellectual decay of the race +consequent on injudicious marriages and in the Philistine elevation +of physical achievements over mental culture; while the +hierarchical succession of Timocracy and Oligarchy, Democracy and +Tyranny, is dwelt on at great length and its causes analysed in a +very dramatic and psychological manner, if not in that sanctioned +by the actual order of history. + +And indeed it is apparent at first sight that the Platonic +succession of states represents rather the succession of ideas in +the philosophic mind than any historical succession of time. + +Aristotle meets the whole simply by an appeal to facts. If the +theory of the periodic decay of all created things, he urges, be +scientific, it must be universal, and so true of all the other +states as well as of the ideal. Besides, a state usually changes +into its contrary and not to the form next to it; so the ideal +state would not change into Timocracy; while Oligarchy, more often +than Tyranny, succeeds Democracy. Plato, besides, says nothing of +what a Tyranny would change to. According to the cycle theory it +ought to pass into the ideal state again, but as a fact one Tyranny +is changed into another as at Sicyon, or into a Democracy as at +Syracuse, or into an Aristocracy as at Carthage. The example of +Sicily, too, shows that an Oligarchy is often followed by a +Tyranny, as at Leontini and Gela. Besides, it is absurd to +represent greed as the chief motive of decay, or to talk of avarice +as the root of Oligarchy, when in nearly all true oligarchies +money-making is forbidden by law. And finally the Platonic theory +neglects the different kinds of democracies and of tyrannies. + +Now nothing can be more important than this passage in Aristotle's +POLITICS (v. 12.), which may he said to mark an era in the +evolution of historical criticism. For there is nothing on which +Aristotle insists so strongly as that the generalisations from +facts ought to be added to the data of the A PRIORI method - a +principle which we know to be true not merely of deductive +speculative politics but of physics also: for are not the residual +phenomena of chemists a valuable source of improvement in theory? + +His own method is essentially historical though by no means +empirical. On the contrary, this far-seeing thinker, rightly +styled IL MAESTRO DI COLOR CHE SANNO, may be said to have +apprehended clearly that the true method is neither exclusively +empirical nor exclusively speculative, but rather a union of both +in the process called Analysis or the Interpretation of Facts, +which has been defined as the application to facts of such general +conceptions as may fix the important characteristics of the +phenomena, and present them permanently in their true relations. +He too was the first to point out, what even in our own day is +incompletely appreciated, that nature, including the development of +man, is not full of incoherent episodes like a bad tragedy, that +inconsistency and anomaly are as impossible in the moral as they +are in the physical world, and that where the superficial observer +thinks he sees a revolution the philosophical critic discerns +merely the gradual and rational evolution of the inevitable results +of certain antecedents. + +And while admitting the necessity of a psychological basis for the +philosophy of history, he added to it the important truth that man, +to be apprehended in his proper position in the universe as well as +in his natural powers, must be studied from below in the +hierarchical progression of higher function from the lower forms of +life. The important maxim, that to obtain a clear conception of +anything we must 'study it in its growth from the very beginning,' +is formally set down in the opening of the POLITICS, where, indeed, +we shall find the other characteristic features of the modern +Evolutionary theory, such as the 'Differentiation of Function' and +the 'Survival of the Fittest' explicitly set forth. + +What a valuable step this was in the improvement of the method of +historical criticism it is needless to point out. By it, one may +say, the true thread was given to guide one's steps through the +bewildering labyrinth of facts. For history (to use terms with +which Aristotle has made us familiar) may be looked at from two +essentially different standpoints; either as a work of art whose +[Greek text which cannot be reproduced] or final cause is external +to it and imposed on it from without; or as an organism containing +the law of its own development in itself, and working out its +perfection merely by the fact of being what it is. Now, if we +adopt the former, which we may style the theological view, we shall +be in continual danger of tripping into the pitfall of some A +PRIORI conclusion - that bourne from which, it has been truly said, +no traveller ever returns. + +The latter is the only scientific theory and was apprehended in its +fulness by Aristotle, whose application of the inductive method to +history, and whose employment of the evolutionary theory of +humanity, show that he was conscious that the philosophy of history +is nothing separate from the facts of history but is contained in +them, and that the rational law of the complex phenomena of life, +like the ideal in the world of thought, is to be reached through +the facts, not superimposed on them - [Greek text which cannot be +reproduced]. + +And finally, in estimating the enormous debt which the science of +historical criticism owes to Aristotle, we must not pass over his +attitude towards those two great difficulties in the formation of a +philosophy of history on which I have touched above. I mean the +assertion of extra-natural interference with the normal development +of the world and of the incalculable influence exercised by the +power of free will. + +Now, as regards the former, he may be said to have neglected it +entirely. The special acts of providence proceeding from God's +immediate government of the world, which Herodotus saw as mighty +landmarks in history, would have been to him essentially disturbing +elements in that universal reign of law, the extent of whose +limitless empire he of all the great thinkers of antiquity was the +first explicitly to recognise. + +Standing aloof from the popular religion as well as from the deeper +conceptions of Herodotus and the Tragic School, he no longer +thought of God as of one with fair limbs and treacherous face +haunting wood and glade, nor would he see in him a jealous judge +continually interfering in the world's history to bring the wicked +to punishment and the proud to a fall. God to him was the +incarnation of the pure Intellect, a being whose activity was the +contemplation of his own perfection, one whom Philosophy might +imitate but whom prayers could never move, to the sublime +indifference of whose passionless wisdom what were the sons of men, +their desires or their sins? While, as regards the other +difficulty and the formation of a philosophy of history, the +conflict of free will with general laws appears first in Greek +thought in the usual theological form in which all great ideas seem +to be cradled at their birth. + +It was such legends as those of OEdipus and Adrastus, exemplifying +the struggles of individual humanity against the overpowering force +of circumstances and necessity, which gave to the early Greeks +those same lessons which we of modern days draw, in somewhat less +artistic fashion, from the study of statistics and the laws of +physiology. + +In Aristotle, of course, there is no trace of supernatural +influence. The Furies, which drive their victim into sin first and +then punishment, are no longer 'viper-tressed goddesses with eyes +and mouth aflame,' but those evil thoughts which harbour within the +impure soul. In this, as in all other points, to arrive at +Aristotle is to reach the pure atmosphere of scientific and modern +thought. + +But while he rejected pure necessitarianism in its crude form as +essentially a REDUCTIO AD ABSURDUM of life, he was fully conscious +of the fact that the will is not a mysterious and ultimate unit of +force beyond which we cannot go and whose special characteristic is +inconsistency, but a certain creative attitude of the mind which +is, from the first, continually influenced by habits, education and +circumstance; so absolutely modifiable, in a word, that the good +and the bad man alike seem to lose the power of free will; for the +one is morally unable to sin, the other physically incapacitated +for reformation. + +And of the influence of climate and temperature in forming the +nature of man (a conception perhaps pressed too far in modern days +when the 'race theory' is supposed to be a sufficient explanation +of the Hindoo, and the latitude and longitude of a country the best +guide to its morals(6)) Aristotle is completely unaware. I do not +allude to such smaller points as the oligarchical tendencies of a +horse-breeding country and the democratic influence of the +proximity of the sea (important though they are for the +consideration of Greek history), but rather to those wider views in +the seventh book of his POLITICS, where he attributes the happy +union in the Greek character of intellectual attainments with the +spirit of progress to the temperate climate they enjoyed, and +points out how the extreme cold of the north dulls the mental +faculties of its inhabitants and renders them incapable of social +organisation or extended empire; while to the enervating heat of +eastern countries was due that want of spirit and bravery which +then, as now, was the characteristic of the population in that +quarter of the globe. + +Thucydides has shown the causal connection between political +revolutions and the fertility of the soil, but goes a step farther +and points out the psychological influences on a people's character +exercised by the various extremes of climate - in both cases the +first appearance of a most valuable form of historical criticism. + +To the development of Dialectic, as to God, intervals of time are +of no account. From Plato and Aristotle we pass direct to +Polybius. + +The progress of thought from the philosopher of the Academe to the +Arcadian historian may be best illustrated by a comparison of the +method by which each of the three writers, whom I have selected as +the highest expression of the rationalism of his respective age, +attained to his ideal state: for the latter conception may be in a +measure regarded as representing the most spiritual principle which +they could discern in history. + +Now, Plato created his on A PRIORI principles; Aristotle formed his +by an analysis of existing constitutions; Polybius found his +realised for him in the actual world of fact. Aristotle criticised +the deductive speculations of Plato by means of inductive negative +instances, but Polybius will not take the 'Cloud City' of the +REPUBLIC into account at all. He compares it to an athlete who has +never run on 'Constitution Hill,' to a statue so beautiful that it +is entirely removed from the ordinary conditions of humanity, and +consequently from the canons of criticism. + +The Roman state had attained in his eyes, by means of the mutual +counteraction of three opposing forces, (7) that stable equilibrium +in politics which was the ideal of all the theoretical writers of +antiquity. And in connection with this point it will be convenient +to notice here how much truth there is contained in the accusation +often brought against the ancients that they knew nothing of the +idea of Progress, for the meaning of many of their speculations +will be hidden from us if we do not try and comprehend first what +their aim was, and secondly why it was so. + +Now, like all wide generalities, this statement is at least +inaccurate. The prayer of Plato's ideal City - [Greek text which +cannot be reproduced], might be written as a text over the door of +the last Temple to Humanity raised by the disciples of Fourier and +Saint-Simon, but it is certainly true that their ideal principle +was order and permanence, not indefinite progress. For, setting +aside the artistic prejudices which would have led the Greeks to +reject this idea of unlimited improvement, we may note that the +modern conception of progress rests partly on the new enthusiasm +and worship of humanity, partly on the splendid hopes of material +improvements in civilisation which applied science has held out to +us, two influences from which ancient Greek thought seems to have +been strangely free. For the Greeks marred the perfect humanism of +the great men whom they worshipped, by imputing to them divinity +and its supernatural powers; while their science was eminently +speculative and often almost mystic in its character, aiming at +culture and not utility, at higher spirituality and more intense +reverence for law, rather than at the increased facilities of +locomotion and the cheap production of common things about which +our modern scientific school ceases not to boast. And lastly, and +perhaps chiefly, we must remember that the 'plague spot of all +Greek states,' as one of their own writers has called it, was the +terrible insecurity to life and property which resulted from the +factions and revolutions which ceased not to trouble Greece at all +times, raising a spirit of fanaticism such as religion raised in +the middle ages of Europe. + +These considerations, then, will enable us to understand first how +it was that, radical and unscrupulous reformers as the Greek +political theorists were, yet, their end once attained, no modern +conservatives raised such outcry against the slightest innovation. +Even acknowledged improvements in such things as the games of +children or the modes of music were regarded by them with feelings +of extreme apprehension as the herald of the DRAPEAU ROUGE of +reform. And secondly, it will show us how it was that Polybius +found his ideal in the commonwealth of Rome, and Aristotle, like +Mr. Bright, in the middle classes. Polybius, however, is not +content merely with pointing out his ideal state, but enters at +considerable length into the question of those general laws whose +consideration forms the chief essential of the philosophy of +history. + +He starts by accepting the general principle that all things are +fated to decay (which I noticed in the case of Plato), and that 'as +iron produces rust and as wood breeds the animals that destroy it, +so every state has in it the seeds of its own corruption.' He is +not, however, content to rest there, but proceeds to deal with the +more immediate causes of revolutions, which he says are twofold in +nature, either external or internal. Now, the former, depending as +they do on the synchronous conjunction of other events outside the +sphere of scientific estimation, are from their very character +incalculable; but the latter, though assuming many forms, always +result from the over-great preponderance of any single element to +the detriment of the others, the rational law lying at the base of +all varieties of political changes being that stability can result +only from the statical equilibrium produced by the counteraction of +opposing parts, since the more simple a constitution is the more it +is insecure. Plato had pointed out before how the extreme liberty +of a democracy always resulted in despotism, but Polybius analyses +the law and shows the scientific principles on which it rests. + +The doctrine of the instability of pure constitutions forms an +important era in the philosophy of history. Its special +applicability to the politics of our own day has been illustrated +in the rise of the great Napoleon, when the French state had lost +those divisions of caste and prejudice, of landed aristocracy and +moneyed interest, institutions in which the vulgar see only +barriers to Liberty but which are indeed the only possible defences +against the coming of that periodic Sirius of politics, the [Greek +text which cannot be reproduced]. + +There is a principle which Tocqueville never wearies of explaining, +and which has been subsumed by Mr. Herbert Spencer under that +general law common to all organic bodies which we call the +Instability of the Homogeneous. The various manifestations of this +law, as shown in the normal, regular revolutions and evolutions of +the different forms of government, (8) are expounded with great +clearness by Polybius, who claimed for his theory, in the +Thucydidean spirit, that it is a [Greek text which cannot be +reproduced], not a mere [Greek text which cannot be reproduced], +and that a knowledge of it will enable the impartial observer (9) +to discover at any time what period of its constitutional evolution +any particular state has already reached and into what form it will +be next differentiated, though possibly the exact time of the +changes may be more or less uncertain. (10) + +Now in this necessarily incomplete account of the laws of political +revolutions as expounded by Polybius enough perhaps has been said +to show what is his true position in the rational development of +the 'Idea' which I have called the Philosophy of History, because +it is the unifying of history. Seen darkly as it is through the +glass of religion in the pages of Herodotus, more metaphysical than +scientific with Thucydides, Plato strove to seize it by the eagle- +flight of speculation, to reach it with the eager grasp of a soul +impatient of those slower and surer inductive methods which +Aristotle, in his trenchant criticism of his greater master, showed +were more brilliant than any vague theory, if the test of +brilliancy is truth. + +What then is the position of Polybius? Does any new method remain +for him? Polybius was one of those many men who are born too late +to be original. To Thucydides belongs the honour of being the +first in the history of Greek thought to discern the supreme calm +of law and order underlying the fitful storms of life, and Plato +and Aristotle each represents a great new principle. To Polybius +belongs the office - how noble an office he made it his writings +show - of making more explicit the ideas which were implicit in his +predecessors, of showing that they were of wider applicability and +perhaps of deeper meaning than they had seemed before, of examining +with more minuteness the laws which they had discovered, and +finally of pointing out more clearly than any one had done the +range of science and the means it offered for analysing the present +and predicting what was to come. His office thus was to gather up +what they had left, to give their principles new life by a wider +application. + +Polybius ends this great diapason of Greek thought. When the +Philosophy of history appears next, as in Plutarch's tract on 'Why +God's anger is delayed,' the pendulum of thought had swung back to +where it began. His theory was introduced to the Romans under the +cultured style of Cicero, and was welcomed by them as the +philosophical panegyric of their state. The last notice of it in +Latin literature is in the pages of Tacitus, who alludes to the +stable polity formed out of these elements as a constitution easier +to commend than to produce and in no case lasting. Yet Polybius +had seen the future with no uncertain eye, and had prophesied the +rise of the Empire from the unbalanced power of the ochlocracy +fifty years and more before there was joy in the Julian household +over the birth of that boy who, born to power as the champion of +the people, died wearing the purple of a king. + +No attitude of historical criticism is more important than the +means by which the ancients attained to the philosophy of history. +The principle of heredity can be exemplified in literature as well +as in organic life: Aristotle, Plato and Polybius are the lineal +ancestors of Fichte and Hegel, of Vico and Cousin, of Montesquieu +and Tocqueville. + +As my aim is not to give an account of historians but to point out +those great thinkers whose methods have furthered the advance of +this spirit of historical criticism, I shall pass over those +annalists and chroniclers who intervened between Thucydides and +Polybius. Yet perhaps it may serve to throw new light on the real +nature of this spirit and its intimate connection with all other +forms of advanced thought if I give some estimate of the character +and rise of those many influences prejudicial to the scientific +study of history which cause such a wide gap between these two +historians. + +Foremost among these is the growing influence of rhetoric and the +Isocratean school, which seems to have regarded history as an arena +for the display either of pathos or paradoxes, not a scientific +investigation into laws. + +The new age is the age of style. The same spirit of exclusive +attention to form which made Euripides often, like Swinburne, +prefer music to meaning and melody to morality, which gave to the +later Greek statues that refined effeminacy, that overstrained +gracefulness of attitude, was felt in the sphere of history. The +rules laid down for historical composition are those relating to +the aesthetic value of digressions, the legality of employing more +than one metaphor in the same sentence, and the like; and +historians are ranked not by their power of estimating evidence but +by the goodness of the Greek they write. + +I must note also the important influence on literature exercised by +Alexander the Great; for while his travels encouraged the more +accurate research of geography, the very splendour of his +achievements seems to have brought history again into the sphere of +romance. The appearance of all great men in the world is followed +invariably by the rise of that mythopoeic spirit and that tendency +to look for the marvellous, which is so fatal to true historical +criticism. An Alexander, a Napoleon, a Francis of Assisi and a +Mahomet are thought to be outside the limiting conditions of +rational law, just as comets were supposed to be not very long ago. +While the founding of that city of Alexandria, in which Western and +Eastern thought met with such strange result to both, diverted the +critical tendencies of the Greek spirit into questions of grammar, +philology and the like, the narrow, artificial atmosphere of that +University town (as we may call it) was fatal to the development of +that independent and speculative spirit of research which strikes +out new methods of inquiry, of which historical criticism is one. + +The Alexandrines combined a great love of learning with an +ignorance of the true principles of research, an enthusiastic +spirit for accumulating materials with a wonderful incapacity to +use them. Not among the hot sands of Egypt, or the Sophists of +Athens, but from the very heart of Greece rises the man of genius +on whose influence in the evolution of the philosophy of history I +have a short time ago dwelt. Born in the serene and pure air of +the clear uplands of Arcadia, Polybius may be said to reproduce in +his work the character of the place which gave him birth. For, of +all the historians - I do not say of antiquity but of all time - +none is more rationalistic than he, none more free from any belief +in the 'visions and omens, the monstrous legends, the grovelling +superstitions and unmanly craving for the supernatural' ([Greek +text that cannot be reproduced](11)) which he himself is compelled +to notice as the characteristics of some of the historians who +preceded him. Fortunate in the land which bore him, he was no less +blessed in the wondrous time of his birth. For, representing in +himself the spiritual supremacy of the Greek intellect and allied +in bonds of chivalrous friendship to the world-conqueror of his +day, he seems led as it were by the hand of Fate 'to comprehend,' +as has been said, 'more clearly than the Romans themselves the +historical position of Rome,' and to discern with greater insight +than all other men could those two great resultants of ancient +civilisation, the material empire of the city of the seven hills, +and the intellectual sovereignty of Hellas. + +Before his own day, he says, (12) the events of the world were +unconnected and separate and the histories confined to particular +countries. Now, for the first time the universal empire of the +Romans rendered a universal history possible. (13) This, then, is +the august motive of his work: to trace the gradual rise of this +Italian city from the day when the first legion crossed the narrow +strait of Messina and landed on the fertile fields of Sicily to the +time when Corinth in the East and Carthage in the West fell before +the resistless wave of empire and the eagles of Rome passed on the +wings of universal victory from Calpe and the Pillars of Hercules +to Syria and the Nile. At the same time he recognised that the +scheme of Rome's empire was worked out under the aegis of God's +will. (14) For, as one of the Middle Age scribes most truly says, +the [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] of Polybius is that +power which we Christians call God; the second aim, as one may call +it, of his history is to point out the rational and human and +natural causes which brought this result, distinguishing, as we +should say, between God's mediate and immediate government of the +world. + +With any direct intervention of God in the normal development of +Man, he will have nothing to do: still less with any idea of +chance as a factor in the phenomena of life. Chance and miracles, +he says, are mere expressions for our ignorance of rational causes. +The spirit of rationalism which we recognised in Herodotus as a +vague uncertain attitude and which appears in Thucydides as a +consistent attitude of mind never argued about or even explained, +is by Polybius analysed and formulated as the great instrument of +historical research. + +Herodotus, while believing on principle in the supernatural, yet +was sceptical at times. Thucydides simply ignored the +supernatural. He did not discuss it, but he annihilated it by +explaining history without it. Polybius enters at length into the +whole question and explains its origin and the method of treating +it. Herodotus would have believed in Scipio's dream. Thucydides +would have ignored it entirely. Polybius explains it. He is the +culmination of the rational progression of Dialectic. 'Nothing,' +he says, 'shows a foolish mind more than the attempt to account for +any phenomena on the principle of chance or supernatural +intervention. History is a search for rational causes, and there +is nothing in the world - even those phenomena which seem to us the +most remote from law and improbable - which is not the logical and +inevitable result of certain rational antecedents.' + +Some things, of course, are to be rejected A PRIORI without +entering into the subject: 'As regards such miracles,' he says, +(15) 'as that on a certain statue of Artemis rain or snow never +falls though the statue stands in the open air, or that those who +enter God's shrine in Arcadia lose their natural shadows, I cannot +really be expected to argue upon the subject. For these things are +not only utterly improbable but absolutely impossible.' + +'For us to argue reasonably on an acknowledged absurdity is as vain +a task as trying to catch water in a sieve; it is really to admit +the possibility of the supernatural, which is the very point at +issue.' + +What Polybius felt was that to admit the possibility of a miracle +is to annihilate the possibility of history: for just as +scientific and chemical experiments would be either impossible or +useless if exposed to the chance of continued interference on the +part of some foreign body, so the laws and principles which govern +history, the causes of phenomena, the evolution of progress, the +whole science, in a word, of man's dealings with his own race and +with nature, will remain a sealed book to him who admits the +possibility of extra-natural interference. + +The stories of miracles, then, are to be rejected on A PRIORI +rational grounds, but in the case of events which we know to have +happened the scientific historian will not rest till he has +discovered their natural causes which, for instance, in the case of +the wonderful rise of the Roman Empire - the most marvellous thing, +Polybius says, which God ever brought about (16) - are to be found +in the excellence of their constitution ([Greek text which cannot +be reproduced]), the wisdom of their advisers, their splendid +military arrangements, and their superstition ([Greek text which +cannot be reproduced]). For while Polybius regarded the revealed +religion as, of course, objective reality of truth, (17) he laid +great stress on its moral subjective influence, going, in one +passage on the subject, even so far as almost to excuse the +introduction of the supernatural in very small quantities into +history on account of the extremely good effect it would have on +pious people. + +But perhaps there is no passage in the whole of ancient and modern +history which breathes such a manly and splendid spirit of +rationalism as one preserved to us in the Vatican - strange +resting-place for it! - in which he treats of the terrible decay of +population which had fallen on his native land in his own day, and +which by the general orthodox public was regarded as a special +judgment of God sending childlessness on women as a punishment for +the sins of the people. For it was a disaster quite without +parallel in the history of the land, and entirely unforeseen by any +of its political-economy writers who, on the contrary, were always +anticipating that danger would arise from an excess of population +overrunning its means of subsistence, and becoming unmanageable +through its size. Polybius, however, will have nothing to do with +either priest or worker of miracles in this matter. He will not +even seek that 'sacred Heart of Greece,' Delphi, Apollo's shrine, +whose inspiration even Thucydides admitted and before whose wisdom +Socrates bowed. How foolish, he says, were the man who on this +matter would pray to God. We must search for the rational causes, +and the causes are seen to be clear, and the method of prevention +also. He then proceeds to notice how all this arose from the +general reluctance to marriage and to bearing the expense of +educating a large family which resulted from the carelessness and +avarice of the men of his day, and he explains on entirely rational +principles the whole of this apparently supernatural judgment. + +Now, it is to be borne in mind that while his rejection of miracles +as violation of inviolable laws is entirely A PRIORI - for +discussion of such a matter is, of course, impossible for a +rational thinker - yet his rejection of supernatural intervention +rests entirely on the scientific grounds of the necessity of +looking for natural causes. And he is quite logical in maintaining +his position on these principles. For, where it is either +difficult or impossible to assign any rational cause for phenomena, +or to discover their laws, he acquiesces reluctantly in the +alternative of admitting some extra-natural interference which his +essentially scientific method of treating the matter has logically +forced on him, approving, for instance, of prayers for rain, on the +express ground that the laws of meteorology had not yet been +ascertained. He would, of course, have been the first to welcome +our modern discoveries in the matter. The passage in question is +in every way one of the most interesting in his whole work, not, of +course, as signifying any inclination on his part to acquiesce in +the supernatural, but because it shows how essentially logical and +rational his method of argument was, and how candid and fair his +mind. + +Having now examined Polybius's attitude towards the supernatural +and the general ideas which guided his research, I will proceed to +examine the method he pursued in his scientific investigation of +the complex phenomena of life. For, as I have said before in the +course of this essay, what is important in all great writers is not +so much the results they arrive at as the methods they pursue. The +increased knowledge of facts may alter any conclusion in history as +in physical science, and the canons of speculative historical +credibility must be acknowledged to appeal rather to that +subjective attitude of mind which we call the historic sense than +to any formulated objective rules. But a scientific method is a +gain for all time, and the true if not the only progress of +historical criticism consists in the improvement of the instruments +of research. + +Now first, as regards his conception of history, I have already +pointed out that it was to him essentially a search for causes, a +problem to be solved, not a picture to be painted, a scientific +investigation into laws and tendencies, not a mere romantic account +of startling incident and wondrous adventure. Thucydides, in the +opening of his great work, had sounded the first note of the +scientific conception of history. 'The absence of romance in my +pages,' he says, 'will, I fear, detract somewhat from its value, +but I have written my work not to be the exploit of a passing hour +but as the possession of all time.' (18) Polybius follows with +words almost entirely similar. If, he says, we banish from history +the consideration of causes, methods and motives ([Greek text which +cannot be reproduced]), and refuse to consider how far the result +of anything is its rational consequent, what is left is a mere +[Greek text which cannot be reproduced], not a [Greek text which +cannot be reproduced], an oratorical essay which may give pleasure +for the moment, but which is entirely without any scientific value +for the explanation of the future. Elsewhere he says that 'history +robbed of the exposition of its causes and laws is a profitless +thing, though it may allure a fool.' And all through his history +the same point is put forward and exemplified in every fashion. + +So far for the conception of history. Now for the groundwork. As +regards the character of the phenomena to be selected by the +scientific investigator, Aristotle had laid down the general +formula that nature should be studied in her normal manifestations. +Polybius, true to his character of applying explicitly the +principles implicit in the work of others, follows out the doctrine +of Aristotle, and lays particular stress on the rational and +undisturbed character of the development of the Roman constitution +as affording special facilities for the discovery of the laws of +its progress. Political revolutions result from causes either +external or internal. The former are mere disturbing forces which +lie outside the sphere of scientific calculation. It is the latter +which are important for the establishing of principles and the +elucidation of the sequences of rational evolution. + +He thus may be said to have anticipated one of the most important +truths of the modern methods of investigation: I mean that +principle which lays down that just as the study of physiology +should precede the study of pathology, just as the laws of disease +are best discovered by the phenomena presented in health, so the +method of arriving at all great social and political truths is by +the investigation of those cases where development has been normal, +rational and undisturbed. + +The critical canon that the more a people has been interfered with, +the more difficult it becomes to generalise the laws of its +progress and to analyse the separate forces of its civilisation, is +one the validity of which is now generally recognised by those who +pretend to a scientific treatment of all history: and while we +have seen that Aristotle anticipated it in a general formula, to +Polybius belongs the honour of being the first to apply it +explicitly in the sphere of history. + +I have shown how to this great scientific historian the motive of +his work was essentially the search for causes; and true to his +analytical spirit he is careful to examine what a cause really is +and in what part of the antecedents of any consequent it is to be +looked for. To give an illustration: As regards the origin of the +war with Perseus, some assigned as causes the expulsion of +Abrupolis by Perseus, the expedition of the latter to Delphi, the +plot against Eumenes and the seizure of the ambassadors in Boeotia; +of these incidents the two former, Polybius points out, were merely +the pretexts, the two latter merely the occasions of the war. The +war was really a legacy left to Perseus by his father, who was +determined to fight it out with Rome. (19) + +Here as elsewhere he is not originating any new idea. Thucydides +had pointed out the difference between the real and the alleged +cause, and the Aristotelian dictum about revolutions, [Greek text +which cannot be reproduced], draws the distinction between cause +and occasion with the brilliancy of an epigram. But the explicit +and rational investigation of the difference between [Greek text +which cannot be reproduced], and [Greek text which cannot be +reproduced] was reserved for Polybius. No canon of historical +criticism can be said to be of more real value than that involved +in this distinction, and the overlooking of it has filled our +histories with the contemptible accounts of the intrigues of +courtiers and of kings and the petty plottings of backstairs +influence - particulars interesting, no doubt, to those who would +ascribe the Reformation to Anne Boleyn's pretty face, the Persian +war to the influence of a doctor or a curtain-lecture from Atossa, +or the French Revolution to Madame de Maintenon, but without any +value for those who aim at any scientific treatment of history. + +But the question of method, to which I am compelled always to +return, is not yet exhausted. There is another aspect in which it +may be regarded, and I shall now proceed to treat of it. + +One of the greatest difficulties with which the modern historian +has to contend is the enormous complexity of the facts which come +under his notice: D'Alembert's suggestion that at the end of every +century a selection of facts should be made and the rest burned (if +it was really intended seriously) could not, of course, be +entertained for a moment. A problem loses all its value when it +becomes simplified, and the world would be all the poorer if the +Sibyl of History burned her volumes. Besides, as Gibbon pointed +out, 'a Montesquieu will detect in the most insignificant fact +relations which the vulgar overlook.' + +Nor can the scientific investigator of history isolate the +particular elements, which he desires to examine, from disturbing +and extraneous causes, as the experimental chemist can do (though +sometimes, as in the case of lunatic asylums and prisons, he is +enabled to observe phenomena in a certain degree of isolation). So +he is compelled either to use the deductive mode of arguing from +general laws or to employ the method of abstraction, which gives a +fictitious isolation to phenomena never so isolated in actual +existence. And this is exactly what Polybius has done as well as +Thucydides. For, as has been well remarked, there is in the works +of these two writers a certain plastic unity of type and motive; +whatever they write is penetrated through and through with a +specific quality, a singleness and concentration of purpose, which +we may contrast with the more comprehensive width as manifested not +merely in the modern mind, but also in Herodotus. Thucydides, +regarding society as influenced entirely by political motives, took +no account of forces of a different nature, and consequently his +results, like those of most modern political economists, have to be +modified largely (20) before they come to correspond with what we +know was the actual state of fact. Similarly, Polybius will deal +only with those forces which tended to bring the civilised world +under the dominion of Rome (ix. 1), and in the Thucydidean spirit +points out the want of picturesqueness and romance in his pages +which is the result of the abstract method ([Greek text which +cannot be reproduced]) being careful also to tell us that his +rejection of all other forces is essentially deliberate and the +result of a preconceived theory and by no means due to carelessness +of any kind. + +Now, of the general value of the abstract method and the legality +of its employment in the sphere of history, this is perhaps not the +suitable occasion for any discussion. It is, however, in all ways +worthy of note that Polybius is not merely conscious of, but dwells +with particular weight on, the fact which is usually urged as the +strongest objection to the employment of the abstract method - I +mean the conception of a society as a sort of human organism whose +parts are indissolubly connected with one another and all affected +when one member is in any way agitated. This conception of the +organic nature of society appears first in Plato and Aristotle, who +apply it to cities. Polybius, as his wont is, expands it to be a +general characteristic of all history. It is an idea of the very +highest importance, especially to a man like Polybius whose +thoughts are continually turned towards the essential unity of +history and the impossibility of isolation. + +Farther, as regards the particular method of investigating that +group of phenomena obtained for him by the abstract method, he will +adopt, he tells us, neither the purely deductive nor the purely +inductive mode but the union of both. In other words, he formally +adopts that method of analysis upon the importance of which I have +dwelt before. + +And lastly, while, without doubt, enormous simplicity in the +elements under consideration is the result of the employment of the +abstract method, even within the limit thus obtained a certain +selection must be made, and a selection involves a theory. For the +facts of life cannot be tabulated with as great an ease as the +colours of birds and insects can be tabulated. Now, Polybius +points out that those phenomena particularly are to be dwelt on +which may serve as a [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] or +sample, and show the character of the tendencies of the age as +clearly as 'a single drop from a full cask will be enough to +disclose the nature of the whole contents.' This recognition of +the importance of single facts, not in themselves but because of +the spirit they represent, is extremely scientific; for we know +that from the single bone, or tooth even, the anatomist can +recreate entirely the skeleton of the primeval horse, and the +botanist tell the character of the flora and fauna of a district +from a single specimen. + +Regarding truth as 'the most divine thing in Nature,' the very 'eye +and light of history without which it moves a blind thing,' +Polybius spared no pains in the acquisition of historical materials +or in the study of the sciences of politics and war, which he +considered were so essential to the training of the scientific +historian, and the labour he took is mirrored in the many ways in +which he criticises other authorities. + +There is something, as a rule, slightly contemptible about ancient +criticism. The modern idea of the critic as the interpreter, the +expounder of the beauty and excellence of the work he selects, +seems quite unknown. Nothing can be more captious or unfair, for +instance, than the method by which Aristotle criticised the ideal +state of Plato in his ethical works, and the passages quoted by +Polybius from Timaeus show that the latter historian fully deserved +the punning name given to him. But in Polybius there is, I think, +little of that bitterness and pettiness of spirit which +characterises most other writers, and an incidental story he tells +of his relations with one of the historians whom he criticised +shows that he was a man of great courtesy and refinement of taste - +as, indeed, befitted one who had lived always in the society of +those who were of great and noble birth. + +Now, as regards the character of the canons by which he criticises +the works of other authors, in the majority of cases he employs +simply his own geographical and military knowledge, showing, for +instance, the impossibility in the accounts given of Nabis's march +from Sparta simply by his acquaintance with the spots in question; +or the inconsistency of those of the battle of Issus; or of the +accounts given by Ephorus of the battles of Leuctra and Mantinea. +In the latter case he says, if any one will take the trouble to +measure out the ground of the site of the battle and then test the +manoeuvres given, he will find how inaccurate the accounts are. + +In other cases he appeals to public documents, the importance of +which he was always foremost in recognising; showing, for instance, +by a document in the public archives of Rhodes how inaccurate were +the accounts given of the battle of Lade by Zeno and Antisthenes. +Or he appeals to psychological probability, rejecting, for +instance, the scandalous stories told of Philip of Macedon, simply +from the king's general greatness of character, and arguing that a +boy so well educated and so respectably connected as Demochares +(xii. 14) could never have been guilty of that of which evil rumour +accused him. + +But the chief object of his literary censure is Timaeus, who had +been unsparing of his strictures on others. The general point +which he makes against him, impugning his accuracy as a historian, +is that he derived his knowledge of history not from the dangerous +perils of a life of action but in the secure indolence of a narrow +scholastic life. There is, indeed, no point on which he is so +vehement as this. 'A history,' he says, 'written in a library +gives as lifeless and as inaccurate a picture of history as a +painting which is copied not from a living animal but from a +stuffed one.' + +There is more difference, he says in another place, between the +history of an eye-witness and that of one whose knowledge comes +from books, than there is between the scenes of real life and the +fictitious landscapes of theatrical scenery. Besides this, he +enters into somewhat elaborate detailed criticism of passages where +he thought Timaeus was following a wrong method and perverting +truth, passages which it will be worth while to examine in detail. + +Timaeus, from the fact of there being a Roman custom to shoot a +war-horse on a stated day, argued back to the Trojan origin of that +people. Polybius, on the other hand, points out that the inference +is quite unwarrantable, because horse-sacrifices are ordinary +institutions common to all barbarous tribes. Timaeus here, as was +common with Greek writers, is arguing back from some custom of the +present to an historical event in the past. Polybius really is +employing the comparative method, showing how the custom was an +ordinary step in the civilisation of every early people. + +In another place, (21) he shows how illogical is the scepticism of +Timaeus as regards the existence of the Bull of Phalaris simply by +appealing to the statue of the Bull, which was still to be seen in +Carthage; pointing out how impossible it was, on any other theory +except that it belonged to Phalaris, to account for the presence in +Carthage of a bull of this peculiar character with a door between +his shoulders. But one of the great points which he uses against +this Sicilian historian is in reference to the question of the +origin of the Locrian colony. In accordance with the received +tradition on the subject, Aristotle had represented the Locrian +colony as founded by some Parthenidae or slaves' children, as they +were called, a statement which seems to have roused the indignation +of Timaeus, who went to a good deal of trouble to confute this +theory. He does so on the following grounds:- + +First of all, he points out that in the ancient days the Greeks had +no slaves at all, so the mention of them in the matter is an +anachronism; and next he declares that he was shown in the Greek +city of Locris certain ancient inscriptions in which their relation +to the Italian city was expressed in terms of the position between +parent and child, which showed also that mutual rights of +citizenship were accorded to each city. Besides this, he appeals +to various questions of improbability as regards their +international relationship, on which Polybius takes diametrically +opposite grounds which hardly call for discussion. And in favour +of his own view he urges two points more: first, that the +Lacedaemonians being allowed furlough for the purpose of seeing +their wives at home, it was unlikely that the Locrians should not +have had the same privilege; and next, that the Italian Locrians +knew nothing of the Aristotelian version and had, on the contrary, +very severe laws against adulterers, runaway slaves and the like. +Now, most of these questions rest on mere probability, which is +always such a subjective canon that an appeal to it is rarely +conclusive. I would note, however, as regards the inscriptions +which, if genuine, would of course have settled the matter, that +Polybius looks on them as a mere invention on the part of Timaeus, +who, he remarks, gives no details about them, though, as a rule, he +is over-anxious to give chapter and verse for everything. A +somewhat more interesting point is that where he attacks Timaeus +for the introduction of fictitious speeches into his narrative; for +on this point Polybius seems to be far in advance of the opinions +held by literary men on the subject not merely in his own day, but +for centuries after. + +Herodotus had introduced speeches avowedly dramatic and fictitious. +Thucydides states clearly that, where he was unable to find out +what people really said, he put down what they ought to have said. +Sallust alludes, it is true, to the fact of the speech he puts into +the mouth of the tribune Memmius being essentially genuine, but the +speeches given in the senate on the occasion of the Catilinarian +conspiracy are very different from the same orations as they appear +in Cicero. Livy makes his ancient Romans wrangle and chop logic +with all the subtlety of a Hortensius or a Scaevola. And even in +later days, when shorthand reporters attended the debates of the +senate and a DAILY NEWS was published in Rome, we find that one of +the most celebrated speeches in Tacitus (that in which the Emperor +Claudius gives the Gauls their freedom) is shown, by an inscription +discovered recently at Lugdunum, to be entirely fabulous. + +Upon the other hand, it must be borne in mind that these speeches +were not intended to deceive; they were regarded merely as a +certain dramatic element which it was allowable to introduce into +history for the purpose of giving more life and reality to the +narration, and were to be criticised, not as we should, by arguing +how in an age before shorthand was known such a report was possible +or how, in the failure of written documents, tradition could bring +down such an accurate verbal account, but by the higher test of +their psychological probability as regards the persons in whose +mouths they are placed. An ancient historian in answer to modern +criticism would say, probably, that these fictitious speeches were +in reality more truthful than the actual ones, just as Aristotle +claimed for poetry a higher degree of truth in comparison to +history. The whole point is interesting as showing how far in +advance of his age Polybius may be said to have been. + +The last scientific historian, it is possible to gather from his +writings what he considered were the characteristics of the ideal +writer of history; and no small light will be thrown on the +progress of historical criticism if we strive to collect and +analyse what in Polybius are more or less scattered expressions. +The ideal historian must be contemporary with the events he +describes, or removed from them by one generation only. Where it +is possible, he is to be an eye-witness of what he writes of; where +that is out of his power he is to test all traditions and stories +carefully and not to be ready to accept what is plausible in place +of what is true. He is to be no bookworm living aloof from the +experiences of the world in the artificial isolation of a +university town, but a politician, a soldier, and a traveller, a +man not merely of thought but of action, one who can do great +things as well as write of them, who in the sphere of history could +be what Byron and AEschylus were in the sphere of poetry, at once +LE CHANTRE ET LE HEROS. + +He is to keep before his eyes the fact that chance is merely a +synonym for our ignorance; that the reign of law pervades the +domain of history as much as it does that of political science. He +is to accustom himself to look on all occasions for rational and +natural causes. And while he is to recognise the practical utility +of the supernatural, in an educational point of view, he is not +himself to indulge in such intellectual beating of the air as to +admit the possibility of the violation of inviolable laws, or to +argue in a sphere wherein argument is A PRIORI annihilated. He is +to be free from all bias towards friend and country; he is to be +courteous and gentle in criticism; he is not to regard history as a +mere opportunity for splendid and tragic writing; nor is he to +falsify truth for the sake of a paradox or an epigram. + +While acknowledging the importance of particular facts as samples +of higher truths, he is to take a broad and general view of +humanity. He is to deal with the whole race and with the world, +not with particular tribes or separate countries. He is to bear in +mind that the world is really an organism wherein no one part can +be moved without the others being affected also. He is to +distinguish between cause and occasion, between the influence of +general laws and particular fancies, and he is to remember that the +greatest lessons of the world are contained in history and that it +is the historian's duty to manifest them so as to save nations from +following those unwise policies which always lead to dishonour and +ruin, and to teach individuals to apprehend by the intellectual +culture of history those truths which else they would have to learn +in the bitter school of experience, + +Now, as regards his theory of the necessity of the historian's +being contemporary with the events he describes, so far as the +historian is a mere narrator the remark is undoubtedly true. But +to appreciate the harmony and rational position of the facts of a +great epoch, to discover its laws, the causes which produced it and +the effects which it generates, the scene must be viewed from a +certain height and distance to be completely apprehended. A +thoroughly contemporary historian such as Lord Clarendon or +Thucydides is in reality part of the history he criticises; and, in +the case of such contemporary historians as Fabius and Philistus, +Polybius in compelled to acknowledge that they are misled by +patriotic and other considerations. Against Polybius himself no +such accusation can be made. He indeed of all men is able, as from +some lofty tower, to discern the whole tendency of the ancient +world, the triumph of Roman institutions and of Greek thought which +is the last message of the old world and, in a more spiritual +sense, has become the Gospel of the new. + +One thing indeed he did not see, or if he saw it, he thought but +little of it - how from the East there was spreading over the +world, as a wave spreads, a spiritual inroad of new religions from +the time when the Pessinuntine mother of the gods, a shapeless mass +of stone, was brought to the eternal city by her holiest citizen, +to the day when the ship CASTOR AND POLLUX stood in at Puteoli, and +St. Paul turned his face towards martyrdom and victory at Rome. +Polybius was able to predict, from his knowledge of the causes of +revolutions and the tendencies of the various forms of governments, +the uprising of that democratic tone of thought which, as soon as a +seed is sown in the murder of the Gracchi and the exile of Marius, +culminated as all democratic movements do culminate, in the supreme +authority of one man, the lordship of the world under the world's +rightful lord, Caius Julius Caesar. This, indeed, he saw in no +uncertain way. But the turning of all men's hearts to the East, +the first glimmering of that splendid dawn which broke over the +hills of Galilee and flooded the earth like wine, was hidden from +his eyes. + +There are many points in the description of the ideal historian +which one may compare to the picture which Plato has given us of +the ideal philosopher. They are both 'spectators of all time and +all existence.' Nothing is contemptible in their eyes, for all +things have a meaning, and they both walk in august reasonableness +before all men, conscious of the workings of God yet free from all +terror of mendicant priest or vagrant miracle-worker. But the +parallel ends here. For the one stands aloof from the world-storm +of sleet and hail, his eyes fixed on distant and sunlit heights, +loving knowledge for the sake of knowledge and wisdom for the joy +of wisdom, while the other is an eager actor in the world ever +seeking to apply his knowledge to useful things. Both equally +desire truth, but the one because of its utility, the other for its +beauty. The historian regards it as the rational principle of all +true history, and no more. To the other it comes as an all- +pervading and mystic enthusiasm, 'like the desire of strong wine, +the craving of ambition, the passionate love of what is beautiful.' + +Still, though we miss in the historian those higher and more +spiritual qualities which the philosopher of the Academe alone of +all men possessed, we must not blind ourselves to the merits of +that great rationalist who seems to have anticipated the very +latest words of modern science. Nor yet is he to be regarded +merely in the narrow light in which he is estimated by most modern +critics, as the explicit champion of rationalism and nothing more. +For he is connected with another idea, the course of which is as +the course of that great river of his native Arcadia which, +springing from some arid and sun-bleached rock, gathers strength +and beauty as it flows till it reaches the asphodel meadows of +Olympia and the light and laughter of Ionian waters. + +For in him we can discern the first notes of that great cult of the +seven-hilled city which made Virgil write his epic and Livy his +history, which found in Dante its highest exponent, which dreamed +of an Empire where the Emperor would care for the bodies and the +Pope for the souls of men, and so has passed into the conception of +God's spiritual empire and the universal brotherhood of man and +widened into the huge ocean of universal thought as the Peneus +loses itself in the sea. + +Polybius is the last scientific historian of Greece. The writer +who seems fittingly to complete the progress of thought is a writer +of biographies only. I will not here touch on Plutarch's +employment of the inductive method as shown in his constant use of +inscription and statue, of public document and building and the +like, because it involves no new method. It is his attitude +towards miracles of which I desire to treat. + +Plutarch is philosophic enough to see that in the sense of a +violation of the laws of nature a miracle is impossible. It is +absurd, he says, to imagine that the statue of a saint can speak, +and that an inanimate object not possessing the vocal organs should +be able to utter an articulate sound. Upon the other hand, he +protests against science imagining that, by explaining the natural +causes of things, it has explained away their transcendental +meaning. 'When the tears on the cheek of some holy statue have +been analysed into the moisture which certain temperatures produce +on wood and marble, it yet by no means follows that they were not a +sign of grief and mourning set there by God Himself.' When Lampon +saw in the prodigy of the one-horned ram the omen of the supreme +rule of Pericles, and when Anaxagoras showed that the abnormal +development was the rational resultant of the peculiar formation of +the skull, the dreamer and the man of science were both right; it +was the business of the latter to consider how the prodigy came +about, of the former to show why it was so formed and what it so +portended. The progression of thought is exemplified in all +particulars. Herodotus had a glimmering sense of the impossibility +of a violation of nature. Thucydides ignored the supernatural. +Polybius rationalised it. Plutarch raises it to its mystical +heights again, though he bases it on law. In a word, Plutarch felt +that while science brings the supernatural down to the natural, yet +ultimately all that is natural is really supernatural. To him, as +to many of our own day, religion was that transcendental attitude +of the mind which, contemplating a world resting on inviolable law, +is yet comforted and seeks to worship God not in the violation but +in the fulfilment of nature. + +It may seem paradoxical to quote in connection with the priest of +Chaeronea such a pure rationalist as Mr. Herbert Spencer; yet when +we read as the last message of modern science that 'when the +equation of life has been reduced to its lowest terms the symbols +are symbols still,' mere signs, that is, of that unknown reality +which underlies all matter and all spirit, we may feel how over the +wide strait of centuries thought calls to thought and how Plutarch +has a higher position than is usually claimed for him in the +progress of the Greek intellect. + +And, indeed, it seems that not merely the importance of Plutarch +himself but also that of the land of his birth in the evolution of +Greek civilisation has been passed over by modern critics. To us, +indeed, the bare rock to which the Parthenon serves as a crown, and +which lies between Colonus and Attica's violet hills, will always +be the holiest spot in the land of Greece: and Delphi will come +next, and then the meadows of Eurotas where that noble people lived +who represented in Hellenic thought the reaction of the law of duty +against the law of beauty, the opposition of conduct to culture. +Yet, as one stands on the [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] +of Cithaeron and looks out on the great double plain of Boeotia, +the enormous importance of the division of Hellas comes to one's +mind with great force. To the north are Orchomenus and the Minyan +treasure-house, seat of those merchant princes of Phoenicia who +brought to Greece the knowledge of letters and the art of working +in gold. Thebes is at our feet with the gloom of the terrible +legends of Greek tragedy still lingering about it, the birthplace +of Pindar, the nurse of Epaminondas and the Sacred Band. + +And from out of the plain where 'Mars loved to dance,' rises the +Muses' haunt, Helicon, by whose silver streams Corinna and Hesiod +sang; while far away under the white aegis of those snow-capped +mountains lies Chaeronea and the Lion plain where with vain +chivalry the Greeks strove to check Macedon first and afterwards +Rome; Chaeronea, where in the Martinmas summer of Greek +civilisation Plutarch rose from the drear waste of a dying religion +as the aftermath rises when the mowers think they have left the +field bare. + +Greek philosophy began and ended in scepticism: the first and the +last word of Greek history was Faith. + +Splendid thus in its death, like winter sunsets, the Greek religion +passed away into the horror of night. For the Cimmerian darkness +was at hand, and when the schools of Athens were closed and the +statue of Athena broken, the Greek spirit passed from the gods and +the history of its own land to the subtleties of defining the +doctrine of the Trinity and the mystical attempts to bring Plato +into harmony with Christ and to reconcile Gethsemane and the Sermon +on the Mount with the Athenian prison and the discussion in the +woods of Colonus. The Greek spirit slept for wellnigh a thousand +years. When it woke again, like Antaeus it had gathered strength +from the earth where it lay; like Apollo it had lost none of its +divinity through its long servitude. + +In the history of Roman thought we nowhere find any of those +characteristics of the Greek Illumination which I have pointed out +are the necessary concomitants of the rise of historical criticism. +The conservative respect for tradition which made the Roman people +delight in the ritual and formulas of law, and is as apparent in +their politics as in their religion, was fatal to any rise of that +spirit of revolt against authority the importance of which, as a +factor in intellectual progress, we have already seen. + +The whitened tables of the Pontifices preserved carefully the +records of the eclipses and other atmospherical phenomena, and what +we call the art of verifying dates was known to them at an early +time; but there was no spontaneous rise of physical science to +suggest by its analogies of law and order a new method of research, +nor any natural springing up of the questioning spirit of +philosophy with its unification of all phenomena and all knowledge. +At the very time when the whole tide of Eastern superstition was +sweeping into the heart of the Capital the Senate banished the +Greek philosophers from Rome. And of the three systems which did +at length take some root in the city, those of Zeno and Epicurus +were used merely as the rule for the ordering of life, while the +dogmatic scepticism of Carneades, by its very principles, +annihilated the possibility of argument and encouraged a perfect +indifference to research. + +Nor were the Romans ever fortunate enough like the Greeks to have +to face the incubus of any dogmatic system of legends and myths, +the immoralities and absurdities of which might excite a +revolutionary outbreak of sceptical criticism. For the Roman +religion became as it were crystallised and isolated from progress +at an early period of its evolution. Their gods remained mere +abstractions of commonplace virtues or uninteresting +personifications of the useful things of life. The old primitive +creed was indeed always upheld as a state institution on account of +the enormous facilities it offered for cheating in politics, but as +a spiritual system of belief it was unanimously rejected at a very +early period both by the common people and the educated classes, +for the sensible reason that it was so extremely dull. The former +took refuge in the mystic sensualities of the worship of Isis, the +latter in the Stoical rules of life. The Romans classified their +gods carefully in their order of precedence, analysed their +genealogies in the laborious spirit of modern heraldry, fenced them +round with a ritual as intricate as their law, but never quite +cared enough about them to believe in them. So it was of no +account with them when the philosophers announced that Minerva was +merely memory. She had never been much else. Nor did they protest +when Lucretius dared to say of Ceres and of Liber that they were +only the corn of the field and the fruit of the vine. For they had +never mourned for the daughter of Demeter in the asphodel meadows +of Sicily, nor traversed the glades of Cithaeron with fawn-skin and +with spear. + +This brief sketch of the condition of Roman thought will serve to +prepare us for the almost total want of scientific historical +criticism which we shall discern in their literature, and has, +besides, afforded fresh corroboration of the conditions essential +to the rise of this spirit, and of the modes of thought which it +reflects and in which it is always to be found. Roman historical +composition had its origin in the pontifical college of +ecclesiastical lawyers, and preserved to its close the uncritical +spirit which characterised its fountain-head. It possessed from +the outset a most voluminous collection of the materials of +history, which, however, produced merely antiquarians, not +historians. It is so hard to use facts, so easy to accumulate +them. + +Wearied of the dull monotony of the pontifical annals, which dwelt +on little else but the rise and fall in provisions and the eclipses +of the sun, Cato wrote out a history with his own hand for the +instruction of his child, to which he gave the name of Origines, +and before his time some aristocratic families had written +histories in Greek much in the same spirit in which the Germans of +the eighteenth century used French as the literary language. But +the first regular Roman historian is Sallust. Between the +extravagant eulogies passed on this author by the French (such as +De Closset), and Dr. Mommsen's view of him as merely a political +pamphleteer, it is perhaps difficult to reach the VIA MEDIA of +unbiassed appreciation. He has, at any rate, the credit of being a +purely rationalistic historian, perhaps the only one in Roman +literature. Cicero had a good many qualifications for a scientific +historian, and (as he usually did) thought very highly of his own +powers. On passages of ancient legend, however, he is rather +unsatisfactory, for while he is too sensible to believe them he is +too patriotic to reject them. And this is really the attitude of +Livy, who claims for early Roman legend a certain uncritical homage +from the rest of the subject world. His view in his history is +that it is not worth while to examine the truth of these stories. + +In his hands the history of Rome unrolls before our eyes like some +gorgeous tapestry, where victory succeeds victory, where triumph +treads on the heels of triumph, and the line of heroes seems never +to end. It is not till we pass behind the canvas and see the +slight means by which the effect is produced that we apprehend the +fact that like most picturesque writers Livy is an indifferent +critic. As regards his attitude towards the credibility of early +Roman history he is quite as conscious as we are of its mythical +and unsound nature. He will not, for instance, decide whether the +Horatii were Albans or Romans; who was the first dictator; how many +tribunes there were, and the like. His method, as a rule, is +merely to mention all the accounts and sometimes to decide in +favour of the most probable, but usually not to decide at all. No +canons of historical criticism will ever discover whether the Roman +women interviewed the mother of Coriolanus of their own accord or +at the suggestion of the senate; whether Remus was killed for +jumping over his brother's wall or because they quarrelled about +birds; whether the ambassadors found Cincinnatus ploughing or only +mending a hedge. Livy suspends his judgment over these important +facts and history when questioned on their truth is dumb. If he +does select between two historians he chooses the one who is nearer +to the facts he describes. But he is no critic, only a +conscientious writer. It is mere vain waste to dwell on his +critical powers, for they do not exist. + +In the case of Tacitus imagination has taken the place of history. +The past lives again in his pages, but through no laborious +criticism; rather through a dramatic and psychological faculty +which he specially possessed. + +In the philosophy of history he has no belief. He can never make +up his mind what to believe as regards God's government of the +world. There is no method in him and none elsewhere in Roman +literature. + +Nations may not have missions but they certainly have functions. +And the function of ancient Italy was not merely to give us what is +statical in our institutions and rational in our law, but to blend +into one elemental creed the spiritual aspirations of Aryan and of +Semite. Italy was not a pioneer in intellectual progress, nor a +motive power in the evolution of thought. The owl of the goddess +of Wisdom traversed over the whole land and found nowhere a +resting-place. The dove, which is the bird of Christ, flew +straight to the city of Rome and the new reign began. It was the +fashion of early Italian painters to represent in mediaeval costume +the soldiers who watched over the tomb of Christ, and this, which +was the result of the frank anachronism of all true art, may serve +to us as an allegory. For it was in vain that the Middle Ages +strove to guard the buried spirit of progress. When the dawn of +the Greek spirit arose, the sepulchre was empty, the grave-clothes +laid aside. Humanity had risen from the dead. + +The study of Greek, it has been well said, implies the birth of +criticism, comparison and research. At the opening of that +education of modern by ancient thought which we call the +Renaissance, it was the words of Aristotle which sent Columbus +sailing to the New World, while a fragment of Pythagorean astronomy +set Copernicus thinking on that train of reasoning which has +revolutionised the whole position of our planet in the universe. +Then it was seen that the only meaning of progress is a return to +Greek modes of thought. The monkish hymns which obscured the pages +of Greek manuscripts were blotted out, the splendours of a new +method were unfolded to the world, and out of the melancholy sea of +mediaevalism rose the free spirit of man in all that splendour of +glad adolescence, when the bodily powers seem quickened by a new +vitality, when the eye sees more clearly than its wont and the mind +apprehends what was beforetime hidden from it. To herald the +opening of the sixteenth century, from the little Venetian printing +press came forth all the great authors of antiquity, each bearing +on the title-page the words [Greek text which cannot be +reproduced]; words which may serve to remind us with what wondrous +prescience Polybius saw the world's fate when he foretold the +material sovereignty of Roman institutions and exemplified in +himself the intellectual empire of Greece. + +The course of the study of the spirit of historical criticism has +not been a profitless investigation into modes and forms of thought +now antiquated and of no account. The only spirit which is +entirely removed from us is the mediaeval; the Greek spirit is +essentially modern. The introduction of the comparative method of +research which has forced history to disclose its secrets belongs +in a measure to us. Ours, too, is a more scientific knowledge of +philology and the method of survival. Nor did the ancients know +anything of the doctrine of averages or of crucial instances, both +of which methods have proved of such importance in modern +criticism, the one adding a most important proof of the statical +elements of history, and exemplifying the influences of all +physical surroundings on the life of man; the other, as in the +single instance of the Moulin Quignon skull, serving to create a +whole new science of prehistoric archaeology and to bring us back +to a time when man was coeval with the stone age, the mammoth and +the woolly rhinoceros. But, except these, we have added no new +canon or method to the science of historical criticism. Across the +drear waste of a thousand years the Greek and the modern spirit +join hands. + +In the torch race which the Greek boys ran from the Cerameician +field of death to the home of the goddess of Wisdom, not merely he +who first reached the goal but he also who first started with the +torch aflame received a prize. In the Lampadephoria of +civilisation and free thought let us not forget to render due meed +of honour to those who first lit that sacred flame, the increasing +splendour of which lights our footsteps to the far-off divine event +of the attainment of perfect truth. + + + + +THE ENGLISH RENAISSANCE OF ART + + + + +AMONG the many debts which we owe to the supreme aesthetic faculty +of Goethe is that he was the first to teach us to define beauty in +terms the most concrete possible, to realise it, I mean, always in +its special manifestations. So, in the lecture which I have the +honour to deliver before you, I will not try to give you any +abstract definition of beauty - any such universal formula for it +as was sought for by the philosophy of the eighteenth century - +still less to communicate to you that which in its essence is +incommunicable, the virtue by which a particular picture or poem +affects us with a unique and special joy; but rather to point out +to you the general ideas which characterise the great English +Renaissance of Art in this century, to discover their source, as +far as that is possible, and to estimate their future as far as +that is possible. + +I call it our English Renaissance because it is indeed a sort of +new birth of the spirit of man, like the great Italian Renaissance +of the fifteenth century, in its desire for a more gracious and +comely way of life, its passion for physical beauty, its exclusive +attention to form, its seeking for new subjects for poetry, new +forms of art, new intellectual and imaginative enjoyments: and I +call it our romantic movement because it is our most recent +expression of beauty. + +It has been described as a mere revival of Greek modes of thought, +and again as a mere revival of mediaeval feeling. Rather I would +say that to these forms of the human spirit it has added whatever +of artistic value the intricacy and complexity and experience of +modern life can give: taking from the one its clearness of vision +and its sustained calm, from the other its variety of expression +and the mystery of its vision. For what, as Goethe said, is the +study of the ancients but a return to the real world (for that is +what they did); and what, said Mazzini, is mediaevalism but +individuality? + +It is really from the union of Hellenism, in its breadth, its +sanity of purpose, its calm possession of beauty, with the +adventive, the intensified individualism, the passionate colour of +the romantic spirit, that springs the art of the nineteenth century +in England, as from the marriage of Faust and Helen of Troy sprang +the beautiful boy Euphorion. + +Such expressions as 'classical' and 'romantic' are, it is true, +often apt to become the mere catchwords of schools. We must always +remember that art has only one sentence to utter: there is for her +only one high law, the law of form or harmony - yet between the +classical and romantic spirit we may say that there lies this +difference at least, that the one deals with the type and the other +with the exception. In the work produced under the modern romantic +spirit it is no longer the permanent, the essential truths of life +that are treated of; it is the momentary situation of the one, the +momentary aspect of the other that art seeks to render. In +sculpture, which is the type of one spirit, the subject +predominates over the situation; in painting, which is the type of +the other, the situation predominates over the subject. + +There are two spirits, then: the Hellenic spirit and the spirit of +romance may be taken as forming the essential elements of our +conscious intellectual tradition, of our permanent standard of +taste. As regards their origin, in art as in politics there is but +one origin for all revolutions, a desire on the part of man for a +nobler form of life, for a freer method and opportunity of +expression. Yet, I think that in estimating the sensuous and +intellectual spirit which presides over our English Renaissance, +any attempt to isolate it in any way from in the progress and +movement and social life of the age that has produced it would be +to rob it of its true vitality, possibly to mistake its true +meaning. And in disengaging from the pursuits and passions of this +crowded modern world those passions and pursuits which have to do +with art and the love of art, we must take into account many great +events of history which seem to be the most opposed to any such +artistic feeling. + +Alien then from any wild, political passion, or from the harsh +voice of a rude people in revolt, as our English Renaissance must +seem, in its passionate cult of pure beauty, its flawless devotion +to form, its exclusive and sensitive nature, it is to the French +Revolution that we must look for the most primary factor of its +production, the first condition of its birth: that great +Revolution of which we are all the children though the voices of +some of us be often loud against it; that Revolution to which at a +time when even such spirits as Coleridge and Wordsworth lost heart +in England, noble messages of love blown across seas came from your +young Republic. + +It is true that our modern sense of the continuity of history has +shown us that neither in politics nor in nature are there +revolutions ever but evolutions only, and that the prelude to that +wild storm which swept over France in 1789 and made every king in +Europe tremble for his throne, was first sounded in literature +years before the Bastille fell and the Palace was taken. The way +for those red scenes by Seine and Loire was paved by that critical +spirit of Germany and England which accustomed men to bring all +things to the test of reason or utility or both, while the +discontent of the people in the streets of Paris was the echo that +followed the life of Emile and of Werther. For Rousseau, by silent +lake and mountain, had called humanity back to the golden age that +still lies before us and preached a return to nature, in passionate +eloquence whose music still lingers about our keen northern air. +And Goethe and Scott had brought romance back again from the prison +she had lain in for so many centuries - and what is romance but +humanity? + +Yet in the womb of the Revolution itself, and in the storm and +terror of that wild time, tendencies were hidden away that the +artistic Renaissance bent to her own service when the time came - a +scientific tendency first, which has borne in our own day a brood +of somewhat noisy Titans, yet in the sphere of poetry has not been +unproductive of good. I do not mean merely in its adding to +enthusiasm that intellectual basis which in its strength, or that +more obvious influence about which Wordsworth was thinking when he +said very nobly that poetry was merely the impassioned expression +in the face of science, and that when science would put on a form +of flesh and blood the poet would lend his divine spirit to aid the +transfiguration. Nor do I dwell much on the great cosmical emotion +and deep pantheism of science to which Shelley has given its first +and Swinburne its latest glory of song, but rather on its influence +on the artistic spirit in preserving that close observation and the +sense of limitation as well as of clearness of vision which are the +characteristics of the real artist. + +The great and golden rule of art as well as of life, wrote William +Blake, is that the more distinct, sharp and defined the boundary +line, the more perfect is the work of art; and the less keen and +sharp the greater is the evidence of weak imitation, plagiarism and +bungling. 'Great inventors in all ages knew this - Michael Angelo +and Albert Durer are known by this and by this alone'; and another +time he wrote, with all the simple directness of nineteenth-century +prose, 'to generalise is to be an idiot.' + +And this love of definite conception, this clearness of vision, +this artistic sense of limit, is the characteristic of all great +work and poetry; of the vision of Homer as of the vision of Dante, +of Keats and William Morris as of Chaucer and Theocritus. It lies +at the base of all noble, realistic and romantic work as opposed to +the colourless and empty abstractions of our own eighteenth-century +poets and of the classical dramatists of France, or of the vague +spiritualities of the German sentimental school: opposed, too, to +that spirit of transcendentalism which also was root and flower +itself of the great Revolution, underlying the impassioned +contemplation of Wordsworth and giving wings and fire to the eagle- +like flight of Shelley, and which in the sphere of philosophy, +though displaced by the materialism and positiveness of our day, +bequeathed two great schools of thought, the school of Newman to +Oxford, the school of Emerson to America. Yet is this spirit of +transcendentalism alien to the spirit of art. For the artist can +accept no sphere of life in exchange for life itself. For him +there is no escape from the bondage of the earth: there is not +even the desire of escape. + +He is indeed the only true realist: symbolism, which is the +essence of the transcendental spirit, is alien to him. The +metaphysical mind of Asia will create for itself the monstrous, +many-breasted idol of Ephesus, but to the Greek, pure artist, that +work is most instinct with spiritual life which conforms most +clearly to the perfect facts of physical life. + +'The storm of revolution,' as Andre Chenier said, 'blows out the +torch of poetry.' It is not for some little time that the real +influence of such a wild cataclysm of things is felt: at first the +desire for equality seems to have produced personalities of more +giant and Titan stature than the world had ever known before. Men +heard the lyre of Byron and the legions of Napoleon; it was a +period of measureless passions and of measureless despair; +ambition, discontent, were the chords of life and art; the age was +an age of revolt: a phase through which the human spirit must +pass, but one in which it cannot rest. For the aim of culture is +not rebellion but peace, the valley perilous where ignorant armies +clash by night being no dwelling-place meet for her to whom the +gods have assigned the fresh uplands and sunny heights and clear, +untroubled air. + +And soon that desire for perfection, which lay at the base of the +Revolution, found in a young English poet its most complete and +flawless realisation. + +Phidias and the achievements of Greek art are foreshadowed in +Homer: Dante prefigures for us the passion and colour and +intensity of Italian painting: the modern love of landscape dates +from Rousseau, and it is in Keats that one discerns the beginning +of the artistic renaissance of England. + +Byron was a rebel and Shelley a dreamer; but in the calmness and +clearness of his vision, his perfect self-control, his unerring +sense of beauty and his recognition of a separate realm for the +imagination, Keats was the pure and serene artist, the forerunner +of the pre-Raphaelite school, and so of the great romantic movement +of which I am to speak. + +Blake had indeed, before him, claimed for art a lofty, spiritual +mission, and had striven to raise design to the ideal level of +poetry and music, but the remoteness of his vision both in painting +and poetry and the incompleteness of his technical powers had been +adverse to any real influence. It is in Keats that the artistic +spirit of this century first found its absolute incarnation. + +And these pre-Raphaelites, what were they? If you ask nine-tenths +of the British public what is the meaning of the word aesthetics, +they will tell you it is the French for affectation or the German +for a dado; and if you inquire about the pre-Raphaelites you will +hear something about an eccentric lot of young men to whom a sort +of divine crookedness and holy awkwardness in drawing were the +chief objects of art. To know nothing about their great men is one +of the necessary elements of English education. + +As regards the pre-Raphaelites the story is simple enough. In the +year 1847 a number of young men in London, poets and painters, +passionate admirers of Keats all of them, formed the habit of +meeting together for discussions on art, the result of such +discussions being that the English Philistine public was roused +suddenly from its ordinary apathy by hearing that there was in its +midst a body of young men who had determined to revolutionise +English painting and poetry. They called themselves the pre- +Raphaelite Brotherhood. + +In England, then as now, it was enough for a man to try and produce +any serious beautiful work to lose all his rights as a citizen; and +besides this, the pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood - among whom the names +of Dante Rossetti, Holman Hunt and Millais will be familiar to you +- had on their side three things that the English public never +forgives: youth, power and enthusiasm. + +Satire, always as sterile as it in shameful and as impotent as it +is insolent, paid them that usual homage which mediocrity pays to +genius - doing, here as always, infinite harm to the public, +blinding them to what is beautiful, teaching them that irreverence +which is the source of all vileness and narrowness of life, but +harming the artist not at all, rather confirming him in the perfect +rightness of his work and ambition. For to disagree with three- +fourths of the British public on all points is one of the first +elements of sanity, one of the deepest consolations in all moments +of spiritual doubt. + +As regards the ideas these young men brought to the regeneration of +English art, we may see at the base of their artistic creations a +desire for a deeper spiritual value to be given to art as well as a +more decorative value. + +Pre-Raphaelites they called themselves; not that they imitated the +early Italian masters at all, but that in their work, as opposed to +the facile abstractions of Raphael, they found a stronger realism +of imagination, a more careful realism of technique, a vision at +once more fervent and more vivid, an individuality more intimate +and more intense. + +For it is not enough that a work of art should conform to the +aesthetic demands of its age: there must be also about it, if it +is to affect us with any permanent delight, the impress of a +distinct individuality, an individuality remote from that of +ordinary men, and coming near to us only by virtue of a certain +newness and wonder in the work, and through channels whose very +strangeness makes us more ready to give them welcome. + +LA PERSONNALITE, said one of the greatest of modem French critics, +VOILE CE QUI NOUS SAUVERA. + +But above all things was it a return to Nature - that formula which +seems to suit so many and such diverse movements: they would draw +and paint nothing but what they saw, they would try and imagine +things as they really happened. Later there came to the old house +by Blackfriars Bridge, where this young brotherhood used to meet +and work, two young men from Oxford, Edward Burne-Jones and William +Morris - the latter substituting for the simpler realism of the +early days a more exquisite spirit of choice, a more faultless +devotion to beauty, a more intense seeking for perfection: a +master of all exquisite design and of all spiritual vision. It is +of the school of Florence rather than of that of Venice that he is +kinsman, feeling that the close imitation of Nature is a disturbing +element in imaginative art. The visible aspect of modern life +disturbs him not; rather is it for him to render eternal all that +is beautiful in Greek, Italian, and Celtic legend. To Morris we +owe poetry whose perfect precision and clearness of word and vision +has not been excelled in the literature of our country, and by the +revival of the decorative arts he has given to our individualised +romantic movement the social idea and the social factor also. + +But the revolution accomplished by this clique of young men, with +Ruskin's faultless and fervent eloquence to help them, was not one +of ideas merely but of execution, not one of conceptions but of +creations. + +For the great eras in the history of the development of all the +arts have been eras not of increased feeling or enthusiasm in +feeling for art, but of new technical improvements primarily and +specially. The discovery of marble quarries in the purple ravines +of Pentelicus and on the little low-lying hills of the island of +Paros gave to the Greeks the opportunity for that intensified +vitality of action, that more sensuous and simple humanism, to +which the Egyptian sculptor working laboriously in the hard +porphyry and rose-coloured granite of the desert could not attain. +The splendour of the Venetian school began with the introduction of +the new oil medium for painting. The progress in modern music has +been due to the invention of new instruments entirely, and in no +way to an increased consciousness on the part of the musician of +any wider social aim. The critic may try and trace the deferred +resolutions of Beethoven to some sense of the incompleteness of the +modern intellectual spirit, but the artist would have answered, as +one of them did afterwards, 'Let them pick out the fifths and leave +us at peace.' + +And so it is in poetry also: all this love of curious French +metres like the Ballade, the Villanelle, the Rondel; all this +increased value laid on elaborate alliterations, and on curious +words and refrains, such as you will find in Dante Rossetti and +Swinburne, is merely the attempt to perfect flute and viol and +trumpet through which the spirit of the age and the lips of the +poet may blow the music of their many messages. + +And so it has been with this romantic movement of ours: it is a +reaction against the empty conventional workmanship, the lax +execution of previous poetry and painting, showing itself in the +work of such men as Rossetti and Burne-Jones by a far greater +splendour of colour, a far more intricate wonder of design than +English imaginative art has shown before. In Rossetti's poetry and +the poetry of Morris, Swinburne and Tennyson a perfect precision +and choice of language, a style flawless and fearless, a seeking +for all sweet and precious melodies and a sustaining consciousness +of the musical value of each word are opposed to that value which +is merely intellectual. In this respect they are one with the +romantic movement of France of which not the least characteristic +note was struck by Theophile Gautier's advice to the young poet to +read his dictionary every day, as being the only book worth a +poet's reading. + +While, then, the material of workmanship is being thus elaborated +and discovered to have in itself incommunicable and eternal +qualities of its own, qualities entirely satisfying to the poetic +sense and not needing for their aesthetic effect any lofty +intellectual vision, any deep criticism of life or even any +passionate human emotion at all, the spirit and the method of the +poet's working - what people call his inspiration - have not +escaped the controlling influence of the artistic spirit. Not that +the imagination has lost its wings, but we have accustomed +ourselves to count their innumerable pulsations, to estimate their +limitless strength, to govern their ungovernable freedom. + +To the Greeks this problem of the conditions of poetic production, +and the places occupied by either spontaneity or self-consciousness +in any artistic work, had a peculiar fascination. We find it in +the mysticism of Plato and in the rationalism of Aristotle. We +find it later in the Italian Renaissance agitating the minds of +such men as Leonardo da Vinci. Schiller tried to adjust the +balance between form and feeling, and Goethe to estimate the +position of self-consciousness in art. Wordsworth's definition of +poetry as 'emotion remembered in tranquillity' may be taken as an +analysis of one of the stages through which all imaginative work +has to pass; and in Keats's longing to be 'able to compose without +this fever' (I quote from one of his letters), his desire to +substitute for poetic ardour 'a more thoughtful and quiet power,' +we may discern the most important moment in the evolution of that +artistic life. The question made an early and strange appearance +in your literature too; and I need not remind you how deeply the +young poets of the French romantic movement were excited and +stirred by Edgar Allan Poe's analysis of the workings of his own +imagination in the creating of that supreme imaginative work which +we know by the name of THE RAVEN. + +In the last century, when the intellectual and didactic element had +intruded to such an extent into the kingdom which belongs to +poetry, it was against the claims of the understanding that an +artist like Goethe had to protest. 'The more incomprehensible to +the understanding a poem is the better for it,' he said once, +asserting the complete supremacy of the imagination in poetry as of +reason in prose. But in this century it is rather against the +claims of the emotional faculties, the claims of mere sentiment and +feeling, that the artist must react. The simple utterance of joy +is not poetry any more than a mere personal cry of pain, and the +real experiences of the artist are always those which do not find +their direct expression but are gathered up and absorbed into some +artistic form which seems, from such real experiences, to be the +farthest removed and the most alien. + +'The heart contains passion but the imagination alone contains +poetry,' says Charles Baudelaire. This too was the lesson that +Theophile Gautier, most subtle of all modern critics, most +fascinating of all modern poets, was never tired of teaching - +'Everybody is affected by a sunrise or a sunset.' The absolute +distinction of the artist is not his capacity to feel nature so +much as his power of rendering it. The entire subordination of all +intellectual and emotional faculties to the vital and informing +poetic principle is the surest sign of the strength of our +Renaissance. + +We have seen the artistic spirit working, first in the delightful +and technical sphere of language, the sphere of expression as +opposed to subject, then controlling the imagination of the poet in +dealing with his subject. And now I would point out to you its +operation in the choice of subject. The recognition of a separate +realm for the artist, a consciousness of the absolute difference +between the world of art and the world of real fact, between +classic grace and absolute reality, forms not merely the essential +element of any aesthetic charm but is the characteristic of all +great imaginative work and of all great eras of artistic creation - +of the age of Phidias as of the age of Michael Angelo, of the age +of Sophocles as of the age of Goethe. + +Art never harms itself by keeping aloof from the social problems of +the day: rather, by so doing, it more completely realises for us +that which we desire. For to most of us the real life is the life +we do not lead, and thus, remaining more true to the essence of its +own perfection, more jealous of its own unattainable beauty, is +less likely to forget form in feeling or to accept the passion of +creation as any substitute for the beauty of the created thing. + +The artist is indeed the child of his own age, but the present will +not be to him a whit more real than the past; for, like the +philosopher of the Platonic vision, the poet is the spectator of +all time and of all existence. For him no form is obsolete, no +subject out of date; rather, whatever of life and passion the world +has known, in desert of Judaea or in Arcadian valley, by the rivers +of Troy or the rivers of Damascus, in the crowded and hideous +streets of a modern city or by the pleasant ways of Camelot - all +lies before him like an open scroll, all is still instinct with +beautiful life. He will take of it what is salutary for his own +spirit, no more; choosing some facts and rejecting others with the +calm artistic control of one who is in possession of the secret of +beauty. + +There is indeed a poetical attitude to be adopted towards all +things, but all things are not fit subjects for poetry. Into the +secure and sacred house of Beauty the true artist will admit +nothing that is harsh or disturbing, nothing that gives pain, +nothing that is debatable, nothing about which men argue. He can +steep himself, if he wishes, in the discussion of all the social +problems of his day, poor-laws and local taxation, free trade and +bimetallic currency, and the like; but when he writes on these +subjects it will be, as Milton nobly expressed it, with his left +hand, in prose and not in verse, in a pamphlet and not in a lyric. +This exquisite spirit of artistic choice was not in Byron: +Wordsworth had it not. In the work of both these men there is much +that we have to reject, much that does not give us that sense of +calm and perfect repose which should be the effect of all fine, +imaginative work. But in Keats it seemed to have been incarnate, +and in his lovely ODE ON A GRECIAN URN it found its most secure and +faultless expression; in the pageant of the EARTHLY PARADISE and +the knights and ladies of Burne-Jones it is the one dominant note. + +It is to no avail that the Muse of Poetry be called, even by such a +clarion note as Whitman's, to migrate from Greece and Ionia and to +placard REMOVED and TO LET on the rocks of the snowy Parnassus. +Calliope's call is not yet closed, nor are the epics of Asia ended; +the Sphinx is not yet silent, nor the fountain of Castaly dry. For +art is very life itself and knows nothing of death; she is absolute +truth and takes no care of fact; she sees (as I remember Mr. +Swinburne insisting on at dinner) that Achilles is even now more +actual and real than Wellington, not merely more noble and +interesting as a type and figure but more positive and real. + +Literature must rest always on a principle, and temporal +considerations are no principle at all. For to the poet all times +and places are one; the stuff he deals with is eternal and +eternally the same: no theme is inept, no past or present +preferable. The steam whistle will not affright him nor the flutes +of Arcadia weary him: for him there is but one time, the artistic +moment; but one law, the law of form; but one land, the land of +Beauty - a land removed indeed from the real world and yet more +sensuous because more enduring; calm, yet with that calm which +dwells in the faces of the Greek statues, the calm which comes not +from the rejection but from the absorption of passion, the calm +which despair and sorrow cannot disturb but intensify only. And so +it comes that he who seems to stand most remote from his age is he +who mirrors it best, because he has stripped life of what is +accidental and transitory, stripped it of that 'mist of familiarity +which makes life obscure to us.' + +Those strange, wild-eyed sibyls fixed eternally in the whirlwind of +ecstasy, those mighty-limbed and Titan prophets, labouring with the +secret of the earth and the burden of mystery, that guard and +glorify the chapel of Pope Sixtus at Rome - do they not tell us +more of the real spirit of the Italian Renaissance, of the dream of +Savonarola and of the sin of Borgia, than all the brawling boors +and cooking women of Dutch art can teach us of the real spirit of +the history of Holland? + +And so in our own day, also, the two most vital tendencies of the +nineteenth century - the democratic and pantheistic tendency and +the tendency to value life for the sake of art - found their most +complete and perfect utterance in the poetry of Shelley and Keats +who, to the blind eyes of their own time, seemed to be as wanderers +in the wilderness, preachers of vague or unreal things. And I +remember once, in talking to Mr. Burne-Jones about modern science, +his saying to me, 'the more materialistic science becomes, the more +angels shall I paint: their wings are my protest in favour of the +immortality of the soul.' + +But these are the intellectual speculations that underlie art. +Where in the arts themselves are we to find that breadth of human +sympathy which is the condition of all noble work; where in the +arts are we to look for what Mazzini would call the social ideas as +opposed to the merely personal ideas? By virtue of what claim do I +demand for the artist the love and loyalty of the men and women of +the world? I think I can answer that. + +Whatever spiritual message an artist brings to his aid is a matter +for his own soul. He may bring judgment like Michael Angelo or +peace like Angelico; he may come with mourning like the great +Athenian or with mirth like the singer of Sicily; nor is it for us +to do aught but accept his teaching, knowing that we cannot smite +the bitter lips of Leopardi into laughter or burden with our +discontent Goethe's serene calm. But for warrant of its truth such +message must have the flame of eloquence in the lips that speak it, +splendour and glory in the vision that is its witness, being +justified by one thing only - the flawless beauty and perfect form +of its expression: this indeed being the social idea, being the +meaning of joy in art. + +Not laughter where none should laugh, nor the calling of peace +where there is no peace; not in painting the subject ever, but the +pictorial charm only, the wonder of its colour, the satisfying +beauty of its design. + +You have most of you seen, probably, that great masterpiece of +Rubens which hangs in the gallery of Brussels, that swift and +wonderful pageant of horse and rider arrested in its most exquisite +and fiery moment when the winds are caught in crimson banner and +the air lit by the gleam of armour and the flash of plume. Well, +that is joy in art, though that golden hillside be trodden by the +wounded feet of Christ and it is for the death of the Son of Man +that that gorgeous cavalcade is passing. + +But this restless modern intellectual spirit of ours is not +receptive enough of the sensuous element of art; and so the real +influence of the arts is hidden from many of us: only a few, +escaping from the tyranny of the soul, have learned the secret of +those high hours when thought is not. + +And this indeed is the reason of the influence which Eastern art is +having on us in Europe, and of the fascination of all Japanese +work. While the Western world has been laying on art the +intolerable burden of its own intellectual doubts and the spiritual +tragedy of its own sorrows, the East has always kept true to art's +primary and pictorial conditions. + +In judging of a beautiful statue the aesthetic faculty is +absolutely and completely gratified by the splendid curves of those +marble lips that are dumb to our complaint, the noble modelling of +those limbs that are powerless to help us. In its primary aspect a +painting has no more spiritual message or meaning than an exquisite +fragment of Venetian glass or a blue tile from the wall of +Damascus: it is a beautifully coloured surface, nothing more. The +channels by which all noble imaginative work in painting should +touch, and do touch the soul, are not those of the truths of life, +nor metaphysical truths. But that pictorial charm which does not +depend on any literary reminiscence for its effect on the one hand, +nor is yet a mere result of communicable technical skill on the +other, comes of a certain inventive and creative handling of +colour. Nearly always in Dutch painting and often in the works of +Giorgione or Titian, it is entirely independent of anything +definitely poetical in the subject, a kind of form and choice in +workmanship which is itself entirely satisfying, and is (as the +Greeks would say) an end in itself. + +And so in poetry too, the real poetical quality, the joy of poetry, +comes never from the subject but from an inventive handling of +rhythmical language, from what Keats called the 'sensuous life of +verse.' The element of song in the singing accompanied by the +profound joy of motion, is so sweet that, while the incomplete +lives of ordinary men bring no healing power with them, the thorn- +crown of the poet will blossom into roses for our pleasure; for our +delight his despair will gild its own thorns, and his pain, like +Adonis, be beautiful in its agony; and when the poet's heart breaks +it will break in music. + +And health in art - what is that? It has nothing to do with a sane +criticism of life. There is more health in Baudelaire than there +is in [Kingsley]. Health is the artist's recognition of the +limitations of the form in which he works. It is the honour and +the homage which he gives to the material he uses - whether it be +language with its glories, or marble or pigment with their glories +- knowing that the true brotherhood of the arts consists not in +their borrowing one another's method, but in their producing, each +of them by its own individual means, each of them by keeping its +objective limits, the same unique artistic delight. The delight is +like that given to us by music - for music is the art in which form +and matter are always one, the art whose subject cannot be +separated from the method of its expression, the art which most +completely realises the artistic ideal, and is the condition to +which all the other arts are constantly aspiring. + +And criticism - what place is that to have in our culture? Well, I +think that the first duty of an art critic is to hold his tongue at +all times, and upon all subjects: C'EST UN GRAND AVANTAGE DE +N'AVOIR RIEN FAIT, MAIS IL NE FAUT PAS EN ABUSER. + +It is only through the mystery of creation that one can gain any +knowledge of the quality of created things. You have listened to +PATIENCE for a hundred nights and you have heard me for one only. +It will make, no doubt, that satire more piquant by knowing +something about the subject of it, but you must not judge of +aestheticism by the satire of Mr. Gilbert. As little should you +judge of the strength and splendour of sun or sea by the dust that +dances in the beam, or the bubble that breaks on the wave, as take +your critic for any sane test of art. For the artists, like the +Greek gods, are revealed only to one another, as Emerson says +somewhere; their real value and place time only can show. In this +respect also omnipotence is with the ages. The true critic +addresses not the artist ever but the public only. His work lies +with them. Art can never have any other claim but her own +perfection: it is for the critic to create for art the social aim, +too, by teaching the people the spirit in which they are to +approach all artistic work, the love they are to give it, the +lesson they are to draw from it. + +All these appeals to art to set herself more in harmony with modern +progress and civilisation, and to make herself the mouthpiece for +the voice of humanity, these appeals to art 'to have a mission,' +are appeals which should be made to the public. The art which has +fulfilled the conditions of beauty has fulfilled all conditions: +it is for the critic to teach the people how to find in the calm of +such art the highest expression of their own most stormy passions. +'I have no reverence,' said Keats, 'for the public, nor for +anything in existence but the Eternal Being, the memory of great +men and the principle of Beauty.' + +Such then is the principle which I believe to be guiding and +underlying our English Renaissance, a Renaissance many-sided and +wonderful, productive of strong ambitions and lofty personalities, +yet for all its splendid achievements in poetry and in the +decorative arts and in painting, for all the increased comeliness +and grace of dress, and the furniture of houses and the like, not +complete. For there can be no great sculpture without a beautiful +national life, and the commercial spirit of England has killed +that; no great drama without a noble national life, and the +commercial spirit of England has killed that too. + +It is not that the flawless serenity of marble cannot bear the +burden of the modern intellectual spirit, or become instinct with +the fire of romantic passion - the tomb of Duke Lorenzo and the +chapel of the Medici show us that - but it is that, as Theophile +Gautier used to say, the visible world is dead, LE MONDE VISIBLE A +DISPARU. + +Nor is it again that the novel has killed the play, as some critics +would persuade us - the romantic movement of France shows us that. +The work of Balzac and of Hugo grew up side by side together; nay, +more, were complementary to each other, though neither of them saw +it. While all other forms of poetry may flourish in an ignoble +age, the splendid individualism of the lyrist, fed by its own +passion, and lit by its own power, may pass as a pillar of fire as +well across the desert as across places that are pleasant. It is +none the less glorious though no man follow it - nay, by the +greater sublimity of its loneliness it may be quickened into +loftier utterance and intensified into clearer song. From the mean +squalor of the sordid life that limits him, the dreamer or the +idyllist may soar on poesy's viewless wings, may traverse with +fawn-skin and spear the moonlit heights of Cithaeron though Faun +and Bassarid dance there no more. Like Keats he may wander through +the old-world forests of Latmos, or stand like Morris on the +galley's deck with the Viking when king and galley have long since +passed away. But the drama is the meeting-place of art and life; +it deals, as Mazzini said, not merely with man, but with social +man, with man in his relation to God and to Humanity. It is the +product of a period of great national united energy; it is +impossible without a noble public, and belongs to such ages as the +age of Elizabeth in London and of Pericles at Athens; it is part of +such lofty moral and spiritual ardour as came to Greek after the +defeat of the Persian fleet, and to Englishman after the wreck of +the Armada of Spain. + +Shelley felt how incomplete our movement was in this respect, and +has shown in one great tragedy by what terror and pity he would +have purified our age; but in spite of THE CENCI the drama is one +of the artistic forms through which the genius of the England of +this century seeks in vain to find outlet and expression. He has +had no worthy imitators. + +It is rather, perhaps, to you that we should turn to complete and +perfect this great movement of ours, for there is something +Hellenic in your air and world, something that has a quicker breath +of the joy and power of Elizabeth's England about it than our +ancient civilisation can give us. For you, at least, are young; +'no hungry generations tread you down,' and the past does not weary +you with the intolerable burden of its memories nor mock you with +the ruins of a beauty, the secret of whose creation you have lost. +That very absence of tradition, which Mr. Ruskin thought would rob +your rivers of their laughter and your flowers of their light, may +be rather the source of your freedom and your strength. + +To speak in literature with the perfect rectitude and insouciance +of the movements of animals, and the unimpeachableness of the +sentiment of trees in the woods and grass by the roadside, has been +defined by one of your poets as a flawless triumph of art. It is a +triumph which you above all nations may be destined to achieve. +For the voices that have their dwelling in sea and mountain are not +the chosen music of Liberty only; other messages are there in the +wonder of wind-swept height and the majesty of silent deep - +messages that, if you will but listen to them, may yield you the +splendour of some new imagination, the marvel of some new beauty. + +'I foresee,' said Goethe, 'the dawn of a new literature which all +people may claim as their own, for all have contributed to its +foundation.' If, then, this is so, and if the materials for a +civilisation as great as that of Europe lie all around you, what +profit, you will ask me, will all this study of our poets and +painters be to you? I might answer that the intellect can be +engaged without direct didactic object on an artistic and +historical problem; that the demand of the intellect is merely to +feel itself alive; that nothing which has ever interested men or +women can cease to be a fit subject for culture. + +I might remind you of what all Europe owes to the sorrow of a +single Florentine in exile at Verona, or to the love of Petrarch by +that little well in Southern France; nay, more, how even in this +dull, materialistic age the simple expression of an old man's +simple life, passed away from the clamour of great cities amid the +lakes and misty hills of Cumberland, has opened out for England +treasures of new joy compared with which the treasures of her +luxury are as barren as the sea which she has made her highway, and +as bitter as the fire which she would make her slave. + +But I think it will bring you something besides this, something +that is the knowledge of real strength in art: not that you should +imitate the works of these men; but their artistic spirit, their +artistic attitude, I think you should absorb that. + +For in nations, as in individuals, if the passion for creation be +not accompanied by the critical, the aesthetic faculty also, it +will be sure to waste its strength aimlessly, failing perhaps in +the artistic spirit of choice, or in the mistaking of feeling for +form, or in the following of false ideals. + +For the various spiritual forms of the imagination have a natural +affinity with certain sensuous forms of art - and to discern the +qualities of each art, to intensify as well its limitations as its +powers of expression, is one of the aims that culture sets before +us. It is not an increased moral sense, an increased moral +supervision that your literature needs. Indeed, one should never +talk of a moral or an immoral poem - poems are either well written +or badly written, that is all. And, indeed, any element of morals +or implied reference to a standard of good or evil in art is often +a sign of a certain incompleteness of vision, often a note of +discord in the harmony of an imaginative creation; for all good +work aims at a purely artistic effect. 'We must be careful,' said +Goethe, 'not to be always looking for culture merely in what is +obviously moral. Everything that is great promotes civilisation as +soon as we are aware of it.' + +But, as in your cities so in your literature, it is a permanent +canon and standard of taste, an increased sensibility to beauty (if +I may say so) that is lacking. All noble work is not national +merely, but universal. The political independence of a nation must +not be confused with any intellectual isolation. The spiritual +freedom, indeed, your own generous lives and liberal air will give +you. From us you will learn the classical restraint of form. + +For all great art is delicate art, roughness having very little to +do with strength, and harshness very little to do with power. 'The +artist,' as Mr. Swinburne says, 'must be perfectly articulate.' + +This limitation is for the artist perfect freedom: it is at once +the origin and the sign of his strength. So that all the supreme +masters of style - Dante, Sophocles, Shakespeare - are the supreme +masters of spiritual and intellectual vision also. + +Love art for its own sake, and then all things that you need will +be added to you. + +This devotion to beauty and to the creation of beautiful things is +the test of all great civilised nations. Philosophy may teach us +to bear with equanimity the misfortunes of our neighbours, and +science resolve the moral sense into a secretion of sugar, but art +is what makes the life of each citizen a sacrament and not a +speculation, art is what makes the life of the whole race immortal. + +For beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm. Philosophies +fall away like sand, and creeds follow one another like the +withered leaves of autumn; but what is beautiful is a joy for all +seasons and a possession for all eternity. + +Wars and the clash of armies and the meeting of men in battle by +trampled field or leaguered city, and the rising of nations there +must always be. But I think that art, by creating a common +intellectual atmosphere between all countries, might - if it could +not overshadow the world with the silver wings of peace - at least +make men such brothers that they would not go out to slay one +another for the whim or folly of some king or minister, as they do +in Europe. Fraternity would come no more with the hands of Cain, +nor Liberty betray freedom with the kiss of Anarchy; for national +hatreds are always strongest where culture is lowest. + +'How could I?' said Goethe, when reproached for not writing like +Korner against the French. 'How could I, to whom barbarism and +culture alone are of importance, hate a nation which is among the +most cultivated of the earth, a nation to which I owe a great part +of my own cultivation?' + +Mighty empires, too, there must always be as long as personal +ambition and the spirit of the age are one, but art at least is the +only empire which a nation's enemies cannot take from her by +conquest, but which is taken by submission only. The sovereignty +of Greece and Rome is not yet passed away, though the gods of the +one be dead and the eagles of the other tired. + +And we in our Renaissance are seeking to create a sovereignty that +will still be England's when her yellow leopards have grown weary +of wars and the rose of her shield is crimsoned no more with the +blood of battle; and you, too, absorbing into the generous heart of +a great people this pervading artistic spirit, will create for +yourselves such riches as you have never yet created, though your +land be a network of railways and your cities the harbours for the +galleys of the world. + +I know, indeed, that the divine natural prescience of beauty which +is the inalienable inheritance of Greek and Italian is not our +inheritance. For such an informing and presiding spirit of art to +shield us from all harsh and alien influences, we of the Northern +races must turn rather to that strained self-consciousness of our +age which, as it is the key-note of all our romantic art, must be +the source of all or nearly all our culture. I mean that +intellectual curiosity of the nineteenth century which is always +looking for the secret of the life that still lingers round old and +bygone forms of culture. It takes from each what is serviceable +for the modern spirit - from Athens its wonder without its worship, +from Venice its splendour without its sin. The same spirit is +always analysing its own strength and its own weakness, counting +what it owes to East and to West, to the olive-trees of Colonus and +to the palm-trees of Lebanon, to Gethsemane and to the garden of +Proserpine. + +And yet the truths of art cannot be taught: they are revealed +only, revealed to natures which have made themselves receptive of +all beautiful impressions by the study and worship of all beautiful +things. And hence the enormous importance given to the decorative +arts in our English Renaissance; hence all that marvel of design +that comes from the hand of Edward Burne-Jones, all that weaving of +tapestry and staining of glass, that beautiful working in clay and +metal and wood which we owe to William Morris, the greatest +handicraftsman we have had in England since the fourteenth century. + +So, in years to come there will be nothing in any man's house which +has not given delight to its maker and does not give delight to its +user. The children, like the children of Plato's perfect city, +will grow up 'in a simple atmosphere of all fair things' - I quote +from the passage in the REPUBLIC - 'a simple atmosphere of all fair +things, where beauty, which is the spirit of art, will come on eye +and ear like a fresh breath of wind that brings health from a clear +upland, and insensibly and gradually draw the child's soul into +harmony with all knowledge and all wisdom, so that he will love +what is beautiful and good, and hate what is evil and ugly (for +they always go together) long before he knows the reason why; and +then when reason comes will kiss her on the cheek as a friend.' + +That is what Plato thought decorative art could do for a nation, +feeling that the secret not of philosophy merely but of all +gracious existence might be externally hidden from any one whose +youth had been passed in uncomely and vulgar surroundings, and that +the beauty of form and colour even, as he says, in the meanest +vessels of the house, will find its way into the inmost places of +the soul and lead the boy naturally to look for that divine harmony +of spiritual life of which art was to him the material symbol and +warrant. + +Prelude indeed to all knowledge and all wisdom will this love of +beautiful things be for us; yet there are times when wisdom becomes +a burden and knowledge is one with sorrow: for as every body has +its shadow so every soul has its scepticism. In such dread moments +of discord and despair where should we, of this torn and troubled +age, turn our steps if not to that secure house of beauty where +there is always a little forgetfulness, always a great joy; to that +CITTE DIVINA, as the old Italian heresy called it, the divine city +where one can stand, though only for a brief moment, apart from the +division and terror of the world and the choice of the world too? + +This is that CONSOLATION DES ARTS which is the key-note of +Gautier's poetry, the secret of modern life foreshadowed - as +indeed what in our century is not? - by Goethe. You remember what +he said to the German people: 'Only have the courage,' he said, +'to give yourselves up to your impressions, allow yourselves to be +delighted, moved, elevated, nay instructed, inspired for something +great.' The courage to give yourselves up to your impressions: +yes, that is the secret of the artistic life - for while art has +been defined as an escape from the tyranny of the senses, it is an +escape rather from the tyranny of the soul. But only to those who +worship her above all things does she ever reveal her true +treasure: else will she be as powerless to aid you as the +mutilated Venus of the Louvre was before the romantic but sceptical +nature of Heine. + +And indeed I think it would be impossible to overrate the gain that +might follow if we had about us only what gave pleasure to the +maker of it and gives pleasure to its user, that being the simplest +of all rules about decoration. One thing, at least, I think it +would do for us: there is no surer test of a great country than +how near it stands to its own poets; but between the singers of our +day and the workers to whom they would sing there seems to be an +ever-widening and dividing chasm, a chasm which slander and mockery +cannot traverse, but which is spanned by the luminous wings of +love. + +And of such love I think that the abiding presence in our houses of +noble imaginative work would be the surest seed and preparation. I +do not mean merely as regards that direct literary expression of +art by which, from the little red-and-black cruse of oil or wine, a +Greek boy could learn of the lionlike splendour of Achilles, of the +strength of Hector and the beauty of Paris and the wonder of Helen, +long before he stood and listened in crowded market-place or in +theatre of marble; or by which an Italian child of the fifteenth +century could know of the chastity of Lucrece and the death of +Camilla from carven doorway and from painted chest. For the good +we get from art is not what we learn from it; it is what we become +through it. Its real influence will be in giving the mind that +enthusiasm which is the secret of Hellenism, accustoming it to +demand from art all that art can do in rearranging the facts of +common life for us - whether it be by giving the most spiritual +interpretation of one's own moments of highest passion or the most +sensuous expression of those thoughts that are the farthest removed +from sense; in accustoming it to love the things of the imagination +for their own sake, and to desire beauty and grace in all things. +For he who does not love art in all things does not love it at all, +and he who does not need art in all things does not need it at all. + +I will not dwell here on what I am sure has delighted you all in +our great Gothic cathedrals. I mean how the artist of that time, +handicraftsman himself in stone or glass, found the best motives +for his art, always ready for his hand and always beautiful, in the +daily work of the artificers he saw around him - as in those lovely +windows of Chartres - where the dyer dips in the vat and the potter +sits at the wheel, and the weaver stands at the loom: real +manufacturers these, workers with the hand, and entirely delightful +to look at, not like the smug and vapid shopman of our time, who +knows nothing of the web or vase he sells, except that he is +charging you double its value and thinking you a fool for buying +it. Nor can I but just note, in passing, the immense influence the +decorative work of Greece and Italy had on its artists, the one +teaching the sculptor that restraining influence of design which is +the glory of the Parthenon, the other keeping painting always true +to its primary, pictorial condition of noble colour which is the +secret of the school of Venice; for I wish rather, in this lecture +at least, to dwell on the effect that decorative art has on human +life - on its social not its purely artistic effect. + +There are two kinds of men in the world, two great creeds, two +different forms of natures: men to whom the end of life is action, +and men to whom the end of life is thought. As regards the latter, +who seek for experience itself and not for the fruits of +experience, who must burn always with one of the passions of this +fiery-coloured world, who find life interesting not for its secret +but for its situations, for its pulsations and not for its purpose; +the passion for beauty engendered by the decorative arts will be to +them more satisfying than any political or religious enthusiasm, +any enthusiasm for humanity, any ecstasy or sorrow for love. For +art comes to one professing primarily to give nothing but the +highest quality to one's moments, and for those moments' sake. So +far for those to whom the end of life is thought. As regards the +others, who hold that life is inseparable from labour, to them +should this movement be specially dear: for, if our days are +barren without industry, industry without art is barbarism. + +Hewers of wood and drawers of water there must be always indeed +among us. Our modern machinery has not much lightened the labour +of man after all: but at least let the pitcher that stands by the +well be beautiful and surely the labour of the day will be +lightened: let the wood be made receptive of some lovely form, +some gracious design, and there will come no longer discontent but +joy to the toiler. For what is decoration but the worker's +expression of joy in his work? And not joy merely - that is a +great thing yet not enough - but that opportunity of expressing his +own individuality which, as it is the essence of all life, is the +source of all art. 'I have tried,' I remember William Morris +saying to me once, 'I have tried to make each of my workers an +artist, and when I say an artist I mean a man.' For the worker +then, handicraftsman of whatever kind he is, art is no longer to be +a purple robe woven by a slave and thrown over the whitened body of +a leprous king to hide and to adorn the sin of his luxury, but +rather the beautiful and noble expression of a life that has in it +something beautiful and noble. + +And so you must seek out your workman and give him, as far as +possible, the right surroundings, for remember that the real test +and virtue of a workman is not his earnestness nor his industry +even, but his power of design merely; and that 'design is not the +offspring of idle fancy: it is the studied result of accumulative +observation and delightful habit.' All the teaching in the world +is of no avail if you do not surround your workman with happy +influences and with beautiful things. It is impossible for him to +have right ideas about colour unless he sees the lovely colours of +Nature unspoiled; impossible for him to supply beautiful incident +and action unless he sees beautiful incident and action in the +world about him. + +For to cultivate sympathy you must be among living things and +thinking about them, and to cultivate admiration you must be among +beautiful things and looking at them. 'The steel of Toledo and the +silk of Genoa did but give strength to oppression and lustre to +pride,' as Mr. Ruskin says; let it be for you to create an art that +is made by the hands of the people for the joy of the people, to +please the hearts of the people, too; an art that will be your +expression of your delight in life. There is nothing 'in common +life too mean, in common things too trivial to be ennobled by your +touch'; nothing in life that art cannot sanctify. + +You have heard, I think, a few of you, of two flowers connected +with the aesthetic movement in England, and said (I assure you, +erroneously) to be the food of some aesthetic young men. Well, let +me tell you that the reason we love the lily and the sunflower, in +spite of what Mr. Gilbert may tell you, is not for any vegetable +fashion at all. It is because these two lovely flowers are in +England the two most perfect models of design, the most naturally +adapted for decorative art - the gaudy leonine beauty of the one +and the precious loveliness of the other giving to the artist the +most entire and perfect joy. And so with you: let there be no +flower in your meadows that does not wreathe its tendrils around +your pillows, no little leaf in your Titan forests that does not +lend its form to design, no curving spray of wild rose or brier +that does not live for ever in carven arch or window or marble, no +bird in your air that is not giving the iridescent wonder of its +colour, the exquisite curves of its wings in flight, to make more +precious the preciousness of simple adornment. + +We spend our days, each one of us, in looking for the secret of +life. Well, the secret of life is in art. + + + + +HOUSE DECORATION + + + + +IN my last lecture I gave you something of the history of Art in +England. I sought to trace the influence of the French Revolution +upon its development. I said something of the song of Keats and +the school of the pre-Raphaelites. But I do not want to shelter +the movement, which I have called the English Renaissance, under +any palladium however noble, or any name however revered. The +roots of it have, indeed, to be sought for in things that have long +passed away, and not, as some suppose, in the fancy of a few young +men - although I am not altogether sure that there is anything much +better than the fancy of a few young men. + +When I appeared before you on a previous occasion, I had seen +nothing of American art save the Doric columns and Corinthian +chimney-pots visible on your Broadway and Fifth Avenue. Since +then, I have been through your country to some fifty or sixty +different cities, I think. I find that what your people need is +not so much high imaginative art but that which hallows the vessels +of everyday use. I suppose that the poet will sing and the artist +will paint regardless whether the world praises or blames. He has +his own world and is independent of his fellow-men. But the +handicraftsman is dependent on your pleasure and opinion. He needs +your encouragement and he must have beautiful surroundings. Your +people love art but do not sufficiently honour the handicraftsman. +Of course, those millionaires who can pillage Europe for their +pleasure need have no care to encourage such; but I speak for those +whose desire for beautiful things is larger than their means. I +find that one great trouble all over is that your workmen are not +given to noble designs. You cannot be indifferent to this, because +Art is not something which you can take or leave. It is a +necessity of human life. + +And what is the meaning of this beautiful decoration which we call +art? In the first place, it means value to the workman and it +means the pleasure which he must necessarily take in making a +beautiful thing. The mark of all good art is not that the thing +done is done exactly or finely, for machinery may do as much, but +that it is worked out with the head and the workman's heart. I +cannot impress the point too frequently that beautiful and rational +designs are necessary in all work. I did not imagine, until I went +into some of your simpler cities, that there was so much bad work +done. I found, where I went, bad wall-papers horribly designed, +and coloured carpets, and that old offender the horse-hair sofa, +whose stolid look of indifference is always so depressing. I found +meaningless chandeliers and machine-made furniture, generally of +rosewood, which creaked dismally under the weight of the ubiquitous +interviewer. I came across the small iron stove which they always +persist in decorating with machine-made ornaments, and which is as +great a bore as a wet day or any other particularly dreadful +institution. When unusual extravagance was indulged in, it was +garnished with two funeral urns. + +It must always be remembered that what is well and carefully made +by an honest workman, after a rational design, increases in beauty +and value as the years go on. The old furniture brought over by +the Pilgrims, two hundred years ago, which I saw in New England, is +just as good and as beautiful to-day as it was when it first came +here. Now, what you must do is to bring artists and handicraftsmen +together. Handicraftsmen cannot live, certainly cannot thrive, +without such companionship. Separate these two and you rob art of +all spiritual motive. + +Having done this, you must place your workman in the midst of +beautiful surroundings. The artist is not dependent on the visible +and the tangible. He has his visions and his dreams to feed on. +But the workman must see lovely forms as he goes to his work in the +morning and returns at eventide. And, in connection with this, I +want to assure you that noble and beautiful designs are never the +result of idle fancy or purposeless day-dreaming. They come only +as the accumulation of habits of long and delightful observation. +And yet such things may not be taught. Right ideas concerning them +can certainly be obtained only by those who have been accustomed to +rooms that are beautiful and colours that are satisfying. + +Perhaps one of the most difficult things for us to do is to choose +a notable and joyous dress for men. There would be more joy in +life if we were to accustom ourselves to use all the beautiful +colours we can in fashioning our own clothes. The dress of the +future, I think, will use drapery to a great extent and will abound +with joyous colour. At present we have lost all nobility of dress +and, in doing so, have almost annihilated the modern sculptor. +And, in looking around at the figures which adorn our parks, one +could almost wish that we had completely killed the noble art. To +see the frock-coat of the drawing-room done in bronze, or the +double waistcoat perpetuated in marble, adds a new horror to death. +But indeed, in looking through the history of costume, seeking an +answer to the questions we have propounded, there is little that is +either beautiful or appropriate. One of the earliest forms is the +Greek drapery which is exquisite for young girls. And then, I +think we may be pardoned a little enthusiasm over the dress of the +time of Charles I., so beautiful indeed, that in spite of its +invention being with the Cavaliers it was copied by the Puritans. +And the dress for the children of that time must not be passed +over. It was a very golden age of the little ones. I do not think +that they have ever looked so lovely as they do in the pictures of +that time. The dress of the last century in England is also +peculiarly gracious and graceful. There is nothing bizarre or +strange about it, but it is full of harmony and beauty. In these +days, when we have suffered dreadfully from the incursions of the +modern milliner, we hear ladies boast that they do not wear a dress +more than once. In the old days, when the dresses were decorated +with beautiful designs and worked with exquisite embroidery, ladies +rather took a pride in bringing out the garment and wearing it many +times and handing it down to their daughters - a process that +would, I think, be quite appreciated by a modern husband when +called upon to settle his wife's bills. + +And how shall men dress? Men say that they do not particularly +care how they dress, and that it is little matter. I am bound to +reply that I do not think that you do. In all my journeys through +the country, the only well-dressed men that I saw - and in saying +this I earnestly deprecate the polished indignation of your Fifth +Avenue dandies - were the Western miners. Their wide-brimmed hats, +which shaded their faces from the sun and protected them from the +rain, and the cloak, which is by far the most beautiful piece of +drapery ever invented, may well be dwelt on with admiration. Their +high boots, too, were sensible and practical. They wore only what +was comfortable, and therefore beautiful. As I looked at them I +could not help thinking with regret of the time when these +picturesque miners would have made their fortunes and would go East +to assume again all the abominations of modern fashionable attire. +Indeed, so concerned was I that I made some of them promise that +when they again appeared in the more crowded scenes of Eastern +civilisation they would still continue to wear their lovely +costume. But I do not believe they will. + +Now, what America wants to-day is a school of rational art. Bad +art is a great deal worse than no art at all. You must show your +workmen specimens of good work so that they come to know what is +simple and true and beautiful. To that end I would have you have a +museum attached to these schools - not one of those dreadful modern +institutions where there is a stuffed and very dusty giraffe, and a +case or two of fossils, but a place where there are gathered +examples of art decoration from various periods and countries. +Such a place is the South Kensington Museum in London, whereon we +build greater hopes for the future than on any other one thing. +There I go every Saturday night, when the museum is open later than +usual, to see the handicraftsman, the wood-worker, the glass-blower +and the worker in metals. And it is here that the man of +refinement and culture comes face to face with the workman who +ministers to his joy. He comes to know more of the nobility of the +workman, and the workman, feeling the appreciation, comes to know +more of the nobility of his work. + +You have too many white walls. More colour is wanted. You should +have such men as Whistler among you to teach you the beauty and joy +of colour. Take Mr. Whistler's 'Symphony in White,' which you no +doubt have imagined to be something quite bizarre. It is nothing +of the sort. Think of a cool grey sky flecked here and there with +white clouds, a grey ocean and three wonderfully beautiful figures +robed in white, leaning over the water and dropping white flowers +from their fingers. Here is no extensive intellectual scheme to +trouble you, and no metaphysics of which we have had quite enough +in art. But if the simple and unaided colour strike the right +keynote, the whole conception is made clear. I regard Mr. +Whistler's famous Peacock Room as the finest thing in colour and +art decoration which the world has known since Correggio painted +that wonderful room in Italy where the little children are dancing +on the walls. Mr. Whistler finished another room just before I +came away - a breakfast room in blue and yellow. The ceiling was a +light blue, the cabinet-work and the furniture were of a yellow +wood, the curtains at the windows were white and worked in yellow, +and when the table was set for breakfast with dainty blue china +nothing can be conceived at once so simple and so joyous. + +The fault which I have observed in most of your rooms is that there +is apparent no definite scheme of colour. Everything is not +attuned to a key-note as it should be. The apartments are crowded +with pretty things which have no relation to one another. Again, +your artists must decorate what is more simply useful. In your art +schools I found no attempt to decorate such things as the vessels +for water. I know of nothing uglier than the ordinary jug or +pitcher. A museum could be filled with the different kinds of +water vessels which are used in hot countries. Yet we continue to +submit to the depressing jug with the handle all on one side. I do +not see the wisdom of decorating dinner-plates with sunsets and +soup-plates with moonlight scenes. I do not think it adds anything +to the pleasure of the canvas-back duck to take it out of such +glories. Besides, we do not want a soup-plate whose bottom seems +to vanish in the distance. One feels neither safe nor comfortable +under such conditions. In fact, I did not find in the art schools +of the country that the difference was explained between decorative +and imaginative art. + +The conditions of art should be simple. A great deal more depends +upon the heart than upon the head. Appreciation of art is not +secured by any elaborate scheme of learning. Art requires a good +healthy atmosphere. The motives for art are still around about us +as they were round about the ancients. And the subjects are also +easily found by the earnest sculptor and the painter. Nothing is +more picturesque and graceful than a man at work. The artist who +goes to the children's playground, watches them at their sport and +sees the boy stoop to tie his shoe, will find the same themes that +engaged the attention of the ancient Greeks, and such observation +and the illustrations which follow will do much to correct that +foolish impression that mental and physical beauty are always +divorced. + +To you, more than perhaps to any other country, has Nature been +generous in furnishing material for art workers to work in. You +have marble quarries where the stone is more beautiful in colour +than any the Greeks ever had for their beautiful work, and yet day +after day I am confronted with the great building of some stupid +man who has used the beautiful material as if it were not precious +almost beyond speech. Marble should not be used save by noble +workmen. There is nothing which gave me a greater sense of +barrenness in travelling through the country than the entire +absence of wood carving on your houses. Wood carving is the +simplest of the decorative arts. In Switzerland the little +barefooted boy beautifies the porch of his father's house with +examples of skill in this direction. Why should not American boys +do a great deal more and better than Swiss boys? + +There is nothing to my mind more coarse in conception and more +vulgar in execution than modern jewellery. This is something that +can easily be corrected. Something better should be made out of +the beautiful gold which is stored up in your mountain hollows and +strewn along your river beds. When I was at Leadville and +reflected that all the shining silver that I saw coming from the +mines would be made into ugly dollars, it made me sad. It should +be made into something more permanent. The golden gates at +Florence are as beautiful to-day as when Michael Angelo saw them. + +We should see more of the workman than we do. We should not be +content to have the salesman stand between us - the salesman who +knows nothing of what he is selling save that he is charging a +great deal too much for it. And watching the workman will teach +that most important lesson - the nobility of all rational +workmanship. + +I said in my last lecture that art would create a new brotherhood +among men by furnishing a universal language. I said that under +its beneficent influences war might pass away. Thinking this, what +place can I ascribe to art in our education? If children grow up +among all fair and lovely things, they will grow to love beauty and +detest ugliness before they know the reason why. If you go into a +house where everything is coarse, you find things chipped and +broken and unsightly. Nobody exercises any care. If everything is +dainty and delicate, gentleness and refinement of manner are +unconsciously acquired. When I was in San Francisco I used to +visit the Chinese Quarter frequently. There I used to watch a +great hulking Chinese workman at his task of digging, and used to +see him every day drink his tea from a little cup as delicate in +texture as the petal of a flower, whereas in all the grand hotels +of the land, where thousands of dollars have been lavished on great +gilt mirrors and gaudy columns, I have been given my coffee or my +chocolate in cups an inch and a quarter thick. I think I have +deserved something nicer. + +The art systems of the past have been devised by philosophers who +looked upon human beings as obstructions. They have tried to +educate boys' minds before they had any. How much better it would +be in these early years to teach children to use their hands in the +rational service of mankind. I would have a workshop attached to +every school, and one hour a day given up to the teaching of simple +decorative arts. It would be a golden hour to the children. And +you would soon raise up a race of handicraftsmen who would +transform the face of your country. I have seen only one such +school in the United States, and this was in Philadelphia and was +founded by my friend Mr. Leyland. I stopped there yesterday and +have brought some of the work here this afternoon to show you. +Here are two disks of beaten brass: the designs on them are +beautiful, the workmanship is simple, and the entire result is +satisfactory. The work was done by a little boy twelve years old. +This is a wooden bowl decorated by a little girl of thirteen. The +design is lovely and the colouring delicate and pretty. Here you +see a piece of beautiful wood carving accomplished by a little boy +of nine. In such work as this, children learn sincerity in art. +They learn to abhor the liar in art - the man who paints wood to +look like iron, or iron to look like stone. It is a practical +school of morals. No better way is there to learn to love Nature +than to understand Art. It dignifies every flower of the field. +And, the boy who sees the thing of beauty which a bird on the wing +becomes when transferred to wood or canvas will probably not throw +the customary stone. What we want is something spiritual added to +life. Nothing is so ignoble that Art cannot sanctify it. + + + + +ART AND THE HANDICRAFTSMAN + + + + +PEOPLE often talk as if there was an opposition between what is +beautiful and what is useful. There is no opposition to beauty +except ugliness: all things are either beautiful or ugly, and +utility will be always on the side of the beautiful thing, because +beautiful decoration is always on the side of the beautiful thing, +because beautiful decoration is always an expression of the use you +put a thing to and the value placed on it. No workman will +beautifully decorate bad work, nor can you possibly get good +handicraftsmen or workmen without having beautiful designs. You +should be quite sure of that. If you have poor and worthless +designs in any craft or trade you will get poor and worthless +workmen only, but the minute you have noble and beautiful designs, +then you get men of power and intellect and feeling to work for +you. By having good designs you have workmen who work not merely +with their hands but with their hearts and heads too; otherwise you +will get merely the fool or the loafer to work for you. + +That the beauty of life is a thing of no moment, I suppose few +people would venture to assert. And yet most civilised people act +as if it were of none, and in so doing are wronging both themselves +and those that are to come after them. For that beauty which is +meant by art is no mere accident of human life which people can +take or leave, but a positive necessity of life if we are to live +as nature meant us to, that is to say unless we are content to be +less than men. + +Do not think that the commercial spirit which is the basis of your +life and cities here is opposed to art. Who built the beautiful +cities of the world but commercial men and commercial men only? +Genoa built by its traders, Florence by its bankers, and Venice, +most lovely of all, by its noble and honest merchants. + +I do not wish you, remember, 'to build a new Pisa,' nor to bring +'the life or the decorations of the thirteenth century back again.' +'The circumstances with which you must surround your workmen are +those' of modern American life, 'because the designs you have now +to ask for from your workmen are such as will make modern' American +'life beautiful.' The art we want is the art based on all the +inventions of modern civilisation, and to suit all the needs of +nineteenth-century life. + +Do you think, for instance, that we object to machinery? I tell +you we reverence it; we reverence it when it does its proper work, +when it relieves man from ignoble and soulless labour, not when it +seeks to do that which is valuable only when wrought by the hands +and hearts of men. Let us have no machine-made ornament at all; it +is all bad and worthless and ugly. And let us not mistake the +means of civilisation for the end of civilisation; steam-engine, +telephone and the like, are all wonderful, but remember that their +value depends entirely on the noble uses we make of them, on the +noble spirit in which we employ them, not on the things themselves. + +It is, no doubt, a great advantage to talk to a man at the +Antipodes through a telephone; its advantage depends entirely on +the value of what the two men have to say to one another. If one +merely shrieks slander through a tube and the other whispers folly +into a wire, do not think that anybody is very much benefited by +the invention. + +The train that whirls an ordinary Englishman through Italy at the +rate of forty miles an hour and finally sends him home without any +memory of that lovely country but that he was cheated by a courier +at Rome, or that he got a bad dinner at Verona, does not do him or +civilisation much good. But that swift legion of fiery-footed +engines that bore to the burning ruins of Chicago the loving help +and generous treasure of the world was as noble and as beautiful as +any golden troop of angels that ever fed the hungry and clothed the +naked in the antique times. As beautiful, yes; all machinery may +be beautiful when it is undecorated even. Do not seek to decorate +it. We cannot but think all good machinery is graceful, also, the +line of strength and the line of beauty being one. + +Give then, as I said, to your workmen of to-day the bright and +noble surroundings that you can yourself create. Stately and +simple architecture for your cities, bright and simple dress for +your men and women; those are the conditions of a real artistic +movement. For the artist is not concerned primarily with any +theory of life but with life itself, with the joy and loveliness +that should come daily on eye and ear for a beautiful external +world. + +But the simplicity must not be barrenness nor the bright colour +gaudy. For all beautiful colours are graduated colours, the +colours that seem about to pass into one another's realm - colour +without tone being like music without harmony, mere discord. +Barren architecture, the vulgar and glaring advertisements that +desecrate not merely your cities but every rock and river that I +have seen yet in America - all this is not enough. A school of +design we must have too in each city. It should be a stately and +noble building, full of the best examples of the best art of the +world. Furthermore, do not put your designers in a barren +whitewashed room and bid them work in that depressing and +colourless atmosphere as I have seen many of the American schools +of design, but give them beautiful surroundings. Because you want +to produce a permanent canon and standard of taste in your workman, +he must have always by him and before him specimens of the best +decorative art of the world, so that you can say to him: 'This is +good work. Greek or Italian or Japanese wrought it so many years +ago, but it is eternally young because eternally beautiful.' Work +in this spirit and you will be sure to be right. Do not copy it, +but work with the same love, the same reverence, the same freedom +of imagination. You must teach him colour and design, how all +beautiful colours are graduated colours and glaring colours the +essence of vulgarity. Show him the quality of any beautiful work +of nature like the rose, or any beautiful work of art like an +Eastern carpet - being merely the exquisite gradation of colour, +one tone answering another like the answering chords of a symphony. +Teach him how the true designer is not he who makes the design and +then colours it, but he who designs in colour, creates in colour, +thinks in colour too. Show him how the most gorgeous stained-glass +windows of Europe are filled with white glass, and the most +gorgeous Eastern tapestry with toned colours - the primary colours +in both places being set in the white glass, and the tone colours +like brilliant jewels set in dusky gold. And then as regards +design, show him how the real designer will take first any given +limited space, little disk of silver, it may be, like a Greek coin, +or wide expanse of fretted ceiling or lordly wall as Tintoret chose +at Venice (it does not matter which), and to this limited space - +the first condition of decoration being the limitation of the size +of the material used - he will give the effect of its being filled +with beautiful decoration, filled with it as a golden cup will be +filled with wine, so complete that you should not be able to take +away anything from it or add anything to it. For from a good piece +of design you can take away nothing, nor can you add anything to +it, each little bit of design being as absolutely necessary and as +vitally important to the whole effect as a note or chord of music +is for a sonata of Beethoven. + +But I said the effect of its being so filled, because this, again, +is of the essence of good design. With a simple spray of leaves +and a bird in flight a Japanese artist will give you the impression +that he has completely covered with lovely design the reed fan or +lacquer cabinet at which he is working, merely because he knows the +exact spot in which to place them. All good design depends on the +texture of the utensil used and the use you wish to put it to. One +of the first things I saw in an American school of design was a +young lady painting a romantic moonlight landscape on a large round +dish, and another young lady covering a set of dinner plates with a +series of sunsets of the most remarkable colours. Let your ladies +paint moonlight landscapes and sunsets, but do not let them paint +them on dinner plates or dishes. Let them take canvas or paper for +such work, but not clay or china. They are merely painting the +wrong subjects on the wrong material, that is all. They have not +been taught that every material and texture has certain qualities +of its own. The design suitable for one is quite wrong for the +other, just as the design which you should work on a flat table- +cover ought to be quite different from the design you would work on +a curtain, for the one will always be straight, the other broken +into folds; and the use too one puts the object to should guide one +in the choice of design. One does not want to eat one's terrapins +off a romantic moonlight nor one's clams off a harrowing sunset. +Glory of sun and moon, let them be wrought for us by our landscape +artist and be on the walls of the rooms we sit in to remind us of +the undying beauty of the sunsets that fade and die, but do not let +us eat our soup off them and send them down to the kitchen twice a +day to be washed and scrubbed by the handmaid. + +All these things are simple enough, yet nearly always forgotten. +Your school of design here will teach your girls and your boys, +your handicraftsmen of the future (for all your schools of art +should be local schools, the schools of particular cities). We +talk of the Italian school of painting, but there is no Italian +school; there were the schools of each city. Every town in Italy, +from Venice itself, queen of the sea, to the little hill fortress +of Perugia, each had its own school of art, each different and all +beautiful. + +So do not mind what art Philadelphia or New York is having, but +make by the hands of your own citizens beautiful art for the joy of +your own citizens, for you have here the primary elements of a +great artistic movement. + +For, believe me, the conditions of art are much simpler than people +imagine. For the noblest art one requires a clear healthy +atmosphere, not polluted as the air of our English cities is by the +smoke and grime and horridness which comes from open furnace and +from factory chimney. You must have strong, sane, healthy physique +among your men and women. Sickly or idle or melancholy people do +not do much in art. And lastly, you require a sense of +individualism about each man and woman, for this is the essence of +art - a desire on the part of man to express himself in the noblest +way possible. And this is the reason that the grandest art of the +world always came from a republic: Athens, Venice, and Florence - +there were no kings there and so their art was as noble and simple +as sincere. But if you want to know what kind of art the folly of +kings will impose on a country look at the decorative art of France +under the GRAND MONARQUE, under Louis the Fourteenth; the gaudy +gilt furniture writhing under a sense of its own horror and +ugliness, with a nymph smirking at every angle and a dragon +mouthing on every claw. Unreal and monstrous art this, and fit +only for such periwigged pomposities as the nobility of France at +that time, but not at all fit for you or me. We do not want the +rich to possess more beautiful things but the poor to create more +beautiful things; for ever man is poor who cannot create. Nor +shall the art which you and I need be merely a purple robe woven by +a slave and thrown over the whitened body of some leprous king to +adorn or to conceal the sin of his luxury, but rather shall it be +the noble and beautiful expression of a people's noble and +beautiful life. Art shall be again the most glorious of all the +chords through which the spirit of a great nation finds its noblest +utterance. + +All around you, I said, lie the conditions for a great artistic +movement for every great art. Let us think of one of them; a +sculptor, for instance. + +If a modern sculptor were to come and say, 'Very well, but where +can one find subjects for sculpture out of men who wear frock-coats +and chimney-pot hats?' I would tell him to go to the docks of a +great city and watch the men loading or unloading the stately +ships, working at wheel or windlass, hauling at rope or gangway. I +have never watched a man do anything useful who has not been +graceful at some moment of his labour: it is only the loafer and +the idle saunterer who is as useless and uninteresting to the +artist as he is to himself. I would ask the sculptor to go with me +to any of your schools or universities, to the running ground and +gymnasium, to watch the young men start for a race, hurling quoit +or club, kneeling to tie their shoes before leaping, stepping from +the boat or bending to the oar, and to carve them; and when he was +weary of cities I would ask him to come to your fields and meadows +to watch the reaper with his sickle and the cattle-driver with +lifted lasso. For if a man cannot find the noblest motives for his +art in such simple daily things as a woman drawing water from the +well or a man leaning with his scythe, he will not find them +anywhere at all. Gods and goddesses the Greek carved because he +loved them; saint and king the Goth because he believed in them. +But you, you do not care much for Greek gods and goddesses, and you +are perfectly and entirely right; and you do not think much of +kings either, and you are quite right. But what you do love are +your own men and women, your own flowers and fields, your own hills +and mountains, and these are what your art should represent to you. + +Ours has been the first movement which has brought the +handicraftsman and the artist together, for remember that by +separating the one from the other you do ruin to both; you rob the +one of all spiritual motive and all imaginative joy, you isolate +the other from all real technical perfection. The two greatest +schools of art in the world, the sculptor at Athens and the school +of painting at Venice, had their origin entirely in a long +succession of simple and earnest handicraftsmen. It was the Greek +potter who taught the sculptor that restraining influence of design +which was the glory of the Parthenon; it was the Italian decorator +of chests and household goods who kept Venetian painting always +true to its primary pictorial condition of noble colour. For we +should remember that all the arts are fine arts and all the arts +decorative arts. The greatest triumph of Italian painting was the +decoration of a pope's chapel in Rome and the wall of a room in +Venice. Michael Angelo wrought the one, and Tintoret, the dyer's +son, the other. And the little 'Dutch landscape, which you put +over your sideboard to-day, and between the windows to-morrow, is' +no less a glorious 'piece of work than the extents of field and +forest with which Benozzo has made green and beautiful the once +melancholy arcade of the Campo Santo at Pisa,' as Ruskin says. + +Do not imitate the works of a nation, Greek or Japanese, Italian or +English; but their artistic spirit of design and their artistic +attitude to-day, their own world, you should absorb but imitate +never, copy never. Unless you can make as beautiful a design in +painted china or embroidered screen or beaten brass out of your +American turkey as the Japanese does out of his grey silver-winged +stork, you will never do anything. Let the Greek carve his lions +and the Goth his dragons: buffalo and wild deer are the animals +for you. + +Golden rod and aster and rose and all the flowers that cover your +valleys in the spring and your hills in the autumn: let them be +the flowers for your art. Not merely has Nature given you the +noblest motives for a new school of decoration, but to you above +all other countries has she given the utensils to work in. + +You have quarries of marble richer than Pentelicus, more varied +than Paros, but do not build a great white square house of marble +and think that it is beautiful, or that you are using marble nobly. +If you build in marble you must either carve it into joyous +decoration, like the lives of dancing children that adorn the +marble castles of the Loire, or fill it with beautiful sculpture, +frieze and pediment, as the Greeks did, or inlay it with other +coloured marbles as they did in Venice. Otherwise you had better +build in simple red brick as your Puritan fathers, with no pretence +and with some beauty. Do not treat your marble as if it was +ordinary stone and build a house of mere blocks of it. For it is +indeed a precious stone, this marble of yours, and only workmen of +nobility of invention and delicacy of hand should be allowed to +touch it at all, carving it into noble statues or into beautiful +decoration, or inlaying it with other coloured marbles: for 'the +true colours of architecture are those of natural stone, and I +would fain see them taken advantage of to the full. Every variety +is here, from pale yellow to purple passing through orange, red, +and brown, entirely at your command; nearly every kind of green and +grey also is attainable, and with these and with pure white what +harmony might you not achieve. Of stained and variegated stone the +quantity is unlimited, the kinds innumerable. Were brighter +colours required, let glass, and gold protected by glass, be used +in mosaic, a kind of work as durable as the solid stone and +incapable of losing its lustre by time. And let the painter's work +be reserved for the shadowed loggia and inner chamber. + +'This is the true and faithful way of building. Where this cannot +be, the device of external colouring may indeed be employed without +dishonour - but it must be with the warning reflection that a time +will come when such aids will pass away and when the building will +be judged in its lifelessness, dying the death of the dolphin. +Better the less bright, more enduring fabric. The transparent +alabasters of San Miniato and the mosaics of Saint Mark's are more +warmly filled and more brightly touched by every return of morning +and evening, while the hues of the Gothic cathedrals have died like +the iris out of the cloud, and the temples, whose azure and purple +once flamed above the Grecian promontory, stand in their faded +whiteness like snows which the sunset has left cold.' - Ruskin, +SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE, II. + +I do not know anything so perfectly commonplace in design as most +modern jewellery. How easy for you to change that and to produce +goldsmiths' work that would be a joy to all of us. The gold is +ready for you in unexhausted treasure, stored up in the mountain +hollow or strewn on the river sand, and was not given to you merely +for barren speculation. There should be some better record of it +left in your history than the merchant's panic and the ruined home. +We do not remember often enough how constantly the history of a +great nation will live in and by its art. Only a few thin wreaths +of beaten gold remain to tell us of the stately empire of Etruria; +and, while from the streets of Florence the noble knight and +haughty duke have long since passed away, the gates which the +simple goldsmith Ghiberti made for their pleasure still guard their +lovely house of baptism, worthy still of the praise of Michael +Angelo who called them worthy to be the Gates of Paradise. + +Have then your school of design, search out your workmen and, when +you find one who has delicacy of hand and that wonder of invention +necessary for goldsmiths' work, do not leave him to toil in +obscurity and dishonour and have a great glaring shop and two great +glaring shop-boys in it (not to take your orders: they never do +that; but to force you to buy something you do not want at all). +When you want a thing wrought in gold, goblet or shield for the +feast, necklace or wreath for the women, tell him what you like +most in decoration, flower or wreath, bird in flight or hound in +the chase, image of the woman you love or the friend you honour. +Watch him as he beats out the gold into those thin plates delicate +as the petals of a yellow rose, or draws it into the long wires +like tangled sunbeams at dawn. Whoever that workman be, help him, +cherish him, and you will have such lovely work from his hand as +will be a joy to you for all time. + +This is the spirit of our movement in England, and this is the +spirit in which we would wish you to work, making eternal by your +art all that is noble in your men and women, stately in your lakes +and mountains, beautiful in your own flowers and natural life. We +want to see that you have nothing in your houses that has not been +a joy to the man who made it, and is not a joy to those that use +it. We want to see you create an art made by the hands of the +people to please the hearts of the people too. Do you like this +spirit or not? Do you think it simple and strong, noble in its +aim, and beautiful in its result? I know you do. + +Folly and slander have their own way for a little time, but for a +little time only. You now know what we mean: you will be able to +estimate what is said of us - its value and its motive. + +There should be a law that no ordinary newspaper should be allowed +to write about art. The harm they do by their foolish and random +writing it would be impossible to overestimate - not to the artist +but to the public, blinding them to all, but harming the artist not +at all. Without them we would judge a man simply by his work; but +at present the newspapers are trying hard to induce the public to +judge a sculptor, for instance, never by his statues but by the way +he treats his wife; a painter by the amount of his income and a +poet by the colour of his neck-tie. I said there should be a law, +but there is really no necessity for a new law: nothing could be +easier than to bring the ordinary critic under the head of the +criminal classes. But let us leave such an inartistic subject and +return to beautiful and comely things, remembering that the art +which would represent the spirit of modern newspapers would be +exactly the art which you and I want to avoid - grotesque art, +malice mocking you from every gateway, slander sneering at you from +every corner. + +Perhaps you may be surprised at my talking of labour and the +workman. You have heard of me, I fear, through the medium of your +somewhat imaginative newspapers as, if not a 'Japanese young man,' +at least a young man to whom the rush and clamour and reality of +the modern world were distasteful, and whose greatest difficulty in +life was the difficulty of living up to the level of his blue china +- a paradox from which England has not yet recovered. + +Well, let me tell you how it first came to me at all to create an +artistic movement in England, a movement to show the rich what +beautiful things they might enjoy and the poor what beautiful +things they might create. + +One summer afternoon in Oxford - 'that sweet city with her dreaming +spires,' lovely as Venice in its splendour, noble in its learning +as Rome, down the long High Street that winds from tower to tower, +past silent cloister and stately gateway, till it reaches that +long, grey seven-arched bridge which Saint Mary used to guard (used +to, I say, because they are now pulling it down to build a tramway +and a light cast-iron bridge in its place, desecrating the +loveliest city in England) - well, we were coming down the street - +a troop of young men, some of them like myself only nineteen, going +to river or tennis-court or cricket-field - when Ruskin going up to +lecture in cap and gown met us. He seemed troubled and prayed us +to go back with him to his lecture, which a few of us did, and +there he spoke to us not on art this time but on life, saying that +it seemed to him to be wrong that all the best physique and +strength of the young men in England should be spent aimlessly on +cricket ground or river, without any result at all except that if +one rowed well one got a pewter-pot, and if one made a good score, +a cane-handled bat. He thought, he said, that we should be working +at something that would do good to other people, at something by +which we might show that in all labour there was something noble. +Well, we were a good deal moved, and said we would do anything he +wished. So he went out round Oxford and found two villages, Upper +and Lower Hinksey, and between them there lay a great swamp, so +that the villagers could not pass from one to the other without +many miles of a round. And when we came back in winter he asked us +to help him to make a road across this morass for these village +people to use. So out we went, day after day, and learned how to +lay levels and to break stones, and to wheel barrows along a plank +- a very difficult thing to do. And Ruskin worked with us in the +mist and rain and mud of an Oxford winter, and our friends and our +enemies came out and mocked us from the bank. We did not mind it +much then, and we did not mind it afterwards at all, but worked +away for two months at our road. And what became of the road? +Well, like a bad lecture it ended abruptly - in the middle of the +swamp. Ruskin going away to Venice, when we came back for the next +term there was no leader, and the 'diggers,' as they called us, +fell asunder. And I felt that if there was enough spirit amongst +the young men to go out to such work as road-making for the sake of +a noble ideal of life, I could from them create an artistic +movement that might change, as it has changed, the face of England. +So I sought them out - leader they would call me - but there was no +leader: we were all searchers only and we were bound to each other +by noble friendship and by noble art. There was none of us idle: +poets most of us, so ambitious were we: painters some of us, or +workers in metal or modellers, determined that we would try and +create for ourselves beautiful work: for the handicraftsman +beautiful work, for those who love us poems and pictures, for those +who love us not epigrams and paradoxes and scorn. + +Well, we have done something in England and we will do something +more. Now, I do not want you, believe me, to ask your brilliant +young men, your beautiful young girls, to go out and make a road on +a swamp for any village in America, but I think you might each of +you have some art to practise. + + +We must have, as Emerson said, a mechanical craft for our culture, +a basis for our higher accomplishments in the work of our hands - +the uselessness of most people's hands seems to me one of the most +unpractical things. 'No separation from labour can be without some +loss of power or truth to the seer,' says Emerson again. The +heroism which would make on us the impression of Epaminondas must +be that of a domestic conqueror. The hero of the future is he who +shall bravely and gracefully subdue this Gorgon of fashion and of +convention. + +When you have chosen your own part, abide by it, and do not weakly +try and reconcile yourself with the world. The heroic cannot be +the common nor the common the heroic. Congratulate yourself if you +have done something strange and extravagant and broken the monotony +of a decorous age. + +And lastly, let us remember that art is the one thing which Death +cannot harm. The little house at Concord may be desolate, but the +wisdom of New England's Plato is not silenced nor the brilliancy of +that Attic genius dimmed: the lips of Longfellow are still musical +for us though his dust be turning into the flowers which he loved: +and as it is with the greater artists, poet and philosopher and +song-bird, so let it be with you. + + + + +LECTURE TO ART STUDENTS + + + + +IN the lecture which it is my privilege to deliver before you to- +night I do not desire to give you any abstract definition of beauty +at all. For we who are working in art cannot accept any theory of +beauty in exchange for beauty itself, and, so far from desiring to +isolate it in a formula appealing to the intellect, we, on the +contrary, seek to materialise it in a form that gives joy to the +soul through the senses. We want to create it, not to define it. +The definition should follow the work: the work should not adapt +itself to the definition. + +Nothing, indeed, is more dangerous to the young artist than any +conception of ideal beauty: he is constantly led by it either into +weak prettiness or lifeless abstraction: whereas to touch the +ideal at all you must not strip it of vitality. You must find it +in life and re-create it in art. + +While, then, on the one hand I do not desire to give you any +philosophy of beauty - for, what I want to-night is to investigate +how we can create art, not how we can talk of it - on the other +hand, I do not wish to deal with anything like a history of English +art. + +To begin with, such an expression as English art is a meaningless +expression. One might just as well talk of English mathematics. +Art is the science of beauty, and Mathematics the science of truth: +there is no national school of either. Indeed, a national school +is a provincial school, merely. Nor is there any such thing as a +school of art even. There are merely artists, that is all. + +And as regards histories of art, they are quite valueless to you +unless you are seeking the ostentatious oblivion of an art +professorship. It is of no use to you to know the date of Perugino +or the birthplace of Salvator Rosa: all that you should learn +about art is to know a good picture when you see it, and a bad +picture when you see it. As regards the date of the artist, all +good work looks perfectly modern: a piece of Greek sculpture, a +portrait of Velasquez - they are always modern, always of our +time. And as regards the nationality of the artist, art is not +national but universal. As regards archaeology, then, avoid it +altogether: archaeology is merely the science of making excuses +for bad art; it is the rock on which many a young artist founders +and shipwrecks; it is the abyss from which no artist, old or young, +ever returns. Or, if he does return, he is so covered with the +dust of ages and the mildew of time, that he is quite +unrecognisable as an artist, and has to conceal himself for the +rest of his days under the cap of a professor, or as a mere +illustrator of ancient history. How worthless archaeology is in +art you can estimate by the fact of its being so popular. +Popularity is the crown of laurel which the world puts on bad art. +Whatever is popular is wrong. + +As I am not going to talk to you, then, about the philosophy of the +beautiful, or the history of art, you will ask me what I am going +to talk about. The subject of my lecture to-night is what makes an +artist and what does the artist make; what are the relations of the +artist to his surroundings, what is the education the artist should +get, and what is the quality of a good work of art. + +Now, as regards the relations of the artist to his surroundings, by +which I mean the age and country in which he is born. All good +art, as I said before, has nothing to do with any particular +century; but this universality is the quality of the work of art; +the conditions that produce that quality are different. And what, +I think, you should do is to realise completely your age in order +completely to abstract yourself from it; remembering that if you +are an artist at all, you will be not the mouthpiece of a century, +but the master of eternity, that all art rests on a principle, and +that mere temporal considerations are no principle at all; and that +those who advise you to make your art representative of the +nineteenth century are advising you to produce an art which your +children, when you have them, will think old-fashioned. But you +will tell me this is an inartistic age, and we are an inartistic +people, and the artist suffers much in this nineteenth century of +ours. + +Of course he does. I, of all men, am not going to deny that. But +remember that there never has been an artistic age, or an artistic +people, since the beginning of the world. The artist has always +been, and will always be, an exquisite exception. There is no +golden age of art; only artists who have produced what is more +golden than gold. + +WHAT, you will say to me, the Greeks? were not they an artistic +people? + +Well, the Greeks certainly not, but, perhaps, you mean the +Athenians, the citizens of one out of a thousand cities. + +Do you think that they were an artistic people? Take them even at +the time of their highest artistic development, the latter part of +the fifth century before Christ, when they had the greatest poets +and the greatest artists of the antique world, when the Parthenon +rose in loveliness at the bidding of a Phidias, and the philosopher +spake of wisdom in the shadow of the painted portico, and tragedy +swept in the perfection of pageant and pathos across the marble of +the stage. Were they an artistic people then? Not a bit of it. +What is an artistic people but a people who love their artists and +understand their art? The Athenians could do neither. + +How did they treat Phidias? To Phidias we owe the great era, not +merely in Greek, but in all art - I mean of the introduction of the +use of the living model. + +And what would you say if all the English bishops, backed by the +English people, came down from Exeter Hall to the Royal Academy one +day and took off Sir Frederick Leighton in a prison van to Newgate +on the charge of having allowed you to make use of the living model +in your designs for sacred pictures? + +Would you not cry out against the barbarism and the Puritanism of +such an idea? Would you not explain to them that the worst way to +honour God is to dishonour man who is made in His image, and is the +work of His hands; and, that if one wants to paint Christ one must +take the most Christlike person one can find, and if one wants to +paint the Madonna, the purest girl one knows? + +Would you not rush off and burn down Newgate, if necessary, and say +that such a thing was without parallel in history? + +Without parallel? Well, that is exactly what the Athenians did. + +In the room of the Parthenon marbles, in the British Museum, you +will see a marble shield on the wall. On it there are two figures; +one of a man whose face is half hidden, the other of a man with the +godlike lineaments of Pericles. For having done this, for having +introduced into a bas relief, taken from Greek sacred history, the +image of the great statesman who was ruling Athens at the time, +Phidias was flung into prison and there, in the common gaol of +Athens, died, the supreme artist of the old world. + +And do you think that this was an exceptional case? The sign of a +Philistine age is the cry of immorality against art, and this cry +was raised by the Athenian people against every great poet and +thinker of their day - AEschylus, Euripides, Socrates. It was the +same with Florence in the thirteenth century. Good handicrafts are +due to guilds, not to the people. The moment the guilds lost their +power and the people rushed in, beauty and honesty of work died. + +And so, never talk of an artistic people; there never has been such +a thing. + +But, perhaps, you will tell me that the external beauty of the +world has almost entirely passed away from us, that the artist +dwells no longer in the midst of the lovely surroundings which, in +ages past, were the natural inheritance of every one, and that art +is very difficult in this unlovely town of ours, where, as you go +to your work in the morning, or return from it at eventide, you +have to pass through street after street of the most foolish and +stupid architecture that the world has ever seen; architecture, +where every lovely Greek form is desecrated and defiled, and every +lovely Gothic form defiled and desecrated, reducing three-fourths +of the London houses to being, merely, like square boxes of the +vilest proportions, as gaunt as they are grimy, and as poor as they +are pretentious - the hall door always of the wrong colour, and the +windows of the wrong size, and where, even when wearied of the +houses you turn to contemplate the street itself, you have nothing +to look at but chimney-pot hats, men with sandwich boards, +vermilion letter-boxes, and do that even at the risk of being run +over by an emerald-green omnibus. + +Is not art difficult, you will say to me, in such surroundings as +these? Of course it is difficult, but then art was never easy; you +yourselves would not wish it to be easy; and, besides, nothing is +worth doing except what the world says is impossible. + +Still, you do not care to be answered merely by a paradox. What +are the relations of the artist to the external world, and what is +the result of the loss of beautiful surroundings to you, is one of +the most important questions of modern art; and there is no point +on which Mr. Ruskin so insists as that the decadence of art has +come from the decadence of beautiful things; and that when the +artist cannot feed his eye on beauty, beauty goes from his work. + +I remember in one of his lectures, after describing the sordid +aspect of a great English city, he draws for us a picture of what +were the artistic surroundings long ago. + +Think, he says, in words of perfect and picturesque imagery, whose +beauty I can but feebly echo, think of what was the scene which +presented itself, in his afternoon walk, to a designer of the +Gothic school of Pisa - Nino Pisano or any of his men (22): + + +On each side of a bright river he saw rise a line of brighter +palaces, arched and pillared, and inlaid with deep red porphyry, +and with serpentine; along the quays before their gates were riding +troops of knights, noble in face and form, dazzling in crest and +shield; horse and man one labyrinth of quaint colour and gleaming +light - the purple, and silver, and scarlet fringes flowing over +the strong limbs and clashing mall, like sea-waves over rocks at +sunset. Opening on each side from the river were gardens, courts, +and cloisters; long successions of white pillars among wreaths of +vine; leaping of fountains through buds of pomegranate and orange: +and still along the garden-paths, and under and through the crimson +of the pomegranate shadows, moving slowly, groups of the fairest +women that Italy ever saw - fairest, because purest and +thoughtfullest; trained in all high knowledge, as in all courteous +art - in dance, in song, in sweet wit, in lofty learning, in +loftier courage, in loftiest love - able alike to cheer, to +enchant, or save, the souls of men. Above all this scenery of +perfect human life, rose dome and bell-tower, burning with white +alabaster and gold: beyond dome and bell-tower the slopes of +mighty hills hoary with olive; far in the north, above a purple sea +of peaks of solemn Apennine, the clear, sharp-cloven Carrara +mountains sent up their steadfast flames of marble summit into +amber sky; the great sea itself, scorching with expanse of light, +stretching from their feet to the Gorgonian isles; and over all +these, ever present, near or far - seen through the leaves of vine, +or imaged with all its march of clouds in the Arno's stream, or set +with its depth of blue close against the golden hair and burning +cheek of lady and knight, - that untroubled and sacred sky, which +was to all men, in those days of innocent faith, indeed the +unquestioned abode of spirits, as the earth was of men; and which +opened straight through its gates of cloud and veils of dew into +the awfulness of the eternal world; - a heaven in which every cloud +that passed was literally the chariot of an angel, and every ray of +its Evening and Morning streamed from the throne of God. + +What think you of that for a school of design? + + +And then look at the depressing, monotonous appearance of any +modern city, the sombre dress of men and women, the meaningless and +barren architecture, the colourless and dreadful surroundings. +Without a beautiful national life, not sculpture merely, but all +the arts will die. + +Well, as regards the religious feeling of the close of the passage, +I do not think I need speak about that. Religion springs from +religious feeling, art from artistic feeling: you never get one +from the other; unless you have the right root you will not get the +right flower; and, if a man sees in a cloud the chariot of an +angel, he will probably paint it very unlike a cloud. + +But, as regards the general idea of the early part of that lovely +bit of prose, is it really true that beautiful surroundings are +necessary for the artist? I think not; I am sure not. Indeed, to +me the most inartistic thing in this age of ours is not the +indifference of the public to beautiful things, but the +indifference of the artist to the things that are called ugly. +For, to the real artist, nothing is beautiful or ugly in itself at +all. With the facts of the object he has nothing to do, but with +its appearance only, and appearance is a matter of light and shade, +of masses, of position, and of value. + +Appearance is, in fact, a matter of effect merely, and it is with +the effects of nature that you have to deal, not with the real +condition of the object. What you, as painters, have to paint is +not things as they are but things as they seem to be, not things as +they are but things as they are not. + +No object is so ugly that, under certain conditions of light and +shade, or proximity to other things, it will not look beautiful; no +object is so beautiful that, under certain conditions, it will not +look ugly. I believe that in every twenty-four hours what is +beautiful looks ugly, and what is ugly looks beautiful, once. + +And, the commonplace character of so much of our English painting +seems to me due to the fact that so many of our young artists look +merely at what we may call 'ready-made beauty,' whereas you exist +as artists not to copy beauty but to create it in your art, to wait +and watch for it in nature. + +What would you say of a dramatist who would take nobody but +virtuous people as characters in his play? Would you not say he +was missing half of life? Well, of the young artist who paints +nothing but beautiful things, I say he misses one half of the +world. + +Do not wait for life to be picturesque, but try and see life under +picturesque conditions. These conditions you can create for +yourself in your studio, for they are merely conditions of light. +In nature, you must wait for them, watch for them, choose them; +and, if you wait and watch, come they will. + +In Gower Street at night you may see a letter-box that is +picturesque: on the Thames Embankment you may see picturesque +policemen. Even Venice is not always beautiful, nor France. + +To paint what you see is a good rule in art, but to see what is +worth painting is better. See life under pictorial conditions. It +is better to live in a city of changeable weather than in a city of +lovely surroundings. + +Now, having seen what makes the artist, and what the artist makes, +who is the artist? There is a man living amongst us who unites in +himself all the qualities of the noblest art, whose work is a joy +for all time, who is, himself, a master of all time. That man is +Mr. Whistler. + +* * * * * * * * + +But, you will say, modern dress, that is bad. If you cannot paint +black cloth you could not have painted silken doublet. Ugly dress +is better for art - facts of vision, not of the object. + +What is a picture? Primarily, a picture is a beautifully coloured +surface, merely, with no more spiritual message or meaning for you +than an exquisite fragment of Venetian glass or a blue tile from +the wall of Damascus. It is, primarily, a purely decorative thing, +a delight to look at. + +All archaeological pictures that make you say 'How curious!' all +sentimental pictures that make you say, 'How sad!' all historical +pictures that make you say 'How interesting!' all pictures that do +not immediately give you such artistic joy as to make you say 'How +beautiful!' are bad pictures. + +* * * * * * * * + +We never know what an artist is going to do. Of course not. The +artist is not a specialist. All such divisions as animal painters, +landscape painters, painters of Scotch cattle in an English mist, +painters of English cattle in a Scotch mist, racehorse painters, +bull-terrier painters, all are shallow. If a man is an artist he +can paint everything. + +The object of art is to stir the most divine and remote of the +chords which make music in our soul; and colour is indeed, of +itself a mystical presence on things, and tone a kind of sentinel. + +Am I pleading, then, for mere technique? No. As long as there are +any signs of technique at all, the picture is unfinished. What is +finish? A picture is finished when all traces of work, and of the +means employed to bring about the result, have disappeared. + +In the case of handicraftsmen - the weaver, the potter, the smith - +on their work are the traces of their hand. But it is not so with +the painter; it is not so with the artist. + +Art should have no sentiment about it but its beauty, no technique +except what you cannot observe. One should be able to say of a +picture not that it is 'well painted,' but that it is 'not +painted.' + +What is the difference between absolutely decorative art and a +painting? Decorative art emphasises its material: imaginative art +annihilates it. Tapestry shows its threads as part of its beauty: +a picture annihilates its canvas: it shows nothing of it. +Porcelain emphasises its glaze: water-colours reject the paper. + +A picture has no meaning but its beauty, no message but its joy. +That is the first truth about art that you must never lose sight +of. A picture is a purely decorative thing. + + + + +LONDON MODELS + + + + +PROFESSIONAL models are a purely modern invention. To the Greeks, +for instance, they were quite unknown. Mr. Mahaffy, it is true, +tells us that Pericles used to present peacocks to the great ladies +of Athenian society in order to induce them to sit to his friend +Phidias, and we know that Polygnotus introduced into his picture of +the Trojan women the face of Elpinice, the celebrated sister of the +great Conservative leader of the day, but these GRANDES DAMES +clearly do not come under our category. As for the old masters, +they undoubtedly made constant studies from their pupils and +apprentices, and even their religious pictures are full of the +portraits of their friends and relations, but they do not seem to +have had the inestimable advantage of the existence of a class of +people whose sole profession is to pose. In fact the model, in our +sense of the word, is the direct creation of Academic Schools. + +Every country now has its own models, except America. In New York, +and even in Boston, a good model is so great a rarity that most of +the artists are reduced to painting Niagara and millionaires. In +Europe, however, it is different. Here we have plenty of models, +and of every nationality. The Italian models are the best. The +natural grace of their attitudes, as well as the wonderful +picturesqueness of their colouring, makes them facile - often too +facile - subjects for the painter's brush. The French models, +though not so beautiful as the Italian, possess a quickness of +intellectual sympathy, a capacity, in fact, of understanding the +artist, which is quite remarkable. They have also a great command +over the varieties of facial expression, are peculiarly dramatic, +and can chatter the ARGOT of the ATELIER as cleverly as the critic +of the GIL BLAS. The English models form a class entirely by +themselves. They are not so picturesque as the Italian, nor so +clever as the French, and they have absolutely no tradition, so to +speak, of their order. Now and then some old veteran knocks at the +studio door, and proposes to sit as Ajax defying the lightning, or +as King Lear upon the blasted heath. One of them some time ago +called on a popular painter who, happening at the moment to require +his services, engaged him, and told him to begin by kneeling down +in the attitude of prayer. 'Shall I be Biblical or Shakespearean, +sir?' asked the veteran. 'Well - Shakespearean,' answered the +artist, wondering by what subtle nuance of expression the model +would convey the difference. 'All right, sir,' said the professor +of posing, and he solemnly knelt down and began to wink with his +left eye! This class, however, is dying out. As a rule the model, +nowadays, is a pretty girl, from about twelve to twenty-five years +of age, who knows nothing about art, cares less, and is merely +anxious to earn seven or eight shillings a day without much +trouble. English models rarely look at a picture, and never +venture on any aesthetic theories. In fact, they realise very +completely Mr. Whistler's idea of the function of an art critic, +for they pass no criticisms at all. They accept all schools of art +with the grand catholicity of the auctioneer, and sit to a +fantastic young impressionist as readily as to a learned and +laborious academician. They are neither for the Whistlerites nor +against them; the quarrel between the school of facts and the +school of effects touches them not; idealistic and naturalistic are +words that convey no meaning to their ears; they merely desire that +the studio shall be warm, and the lunch hot, for all charming +artists give their models lunch. + +As to what they are asked to do they are equally indifferent. On +Monday they will don the rags of a beggar-girl for Mr. Pumper, +whose pathetic pictures of modern life draw such tears from the +public, and on Tuesday they will pose in a peplum for Mr. Phoebus, +who thinks that all really artistic subjects are necessarily B.C. +They career gaily through all centuries and through all costumes, +and, like actors, are interesting only when they are not +themselves. They are extremely good-natured, and very +accommodating. 'What do you sit for?' said a young artist to a +model who had sent him in her card (all models, by the way, have +cards and a small black bag). 'Oh, for anything you like, sir,' +said the girl, 'landscape if necessary!' + +Intellectually, it must be acknowledged, they are Philistines, but +physically they are perfect - at least some are. Though none of +them can talk Greek, many can look Greek, which to a nineteenth- +century painter is naturally of great importance. If they are +allowed, they chatter a great deal, but they never say anything. +Their observations are the only BANALITES heard in Bohemia. +However, though they cannot appreciate the artist as artist, they +are quite ready to appreciate the artist as a man. They are very +sensitive to kindness, respect and generosity. A beautiful model +who had sat for two years to one of our most distinguished English +painters, got engaged to a street vendor of penny ices. + +On her marriage the painter sent her a pretty wedding present, and +received in return a nice letter of thanks with the following +remarkable postscript: 'Never eat the green ices!' + +When they are tired a wise artist gives them a rest. Then they sit +in a chair and read penny dreadfuls, till they are roused from the +tragedy of literature to take their place again in the tragedy of +art. A few of them smoke cigarettes. This, however, is regarded +by the other models as showing a want of seriousness, and is not +generally approved of. They are engaged by the day and by the +half-day. The tariff is a shilling an hour, to which great artists +usually add an omnibus fare. The two best things about them are +their extraordinary prettiness, and their extreme respectability. +As a class they are very well behaved, particularly those who sit +for the figure, a fact which is curious or natural according to the +view one takes of human nature. They usually marry well, and +sometimes they marry the artist. For an artist to marry his model +is as fatal as for a GOURMET to marry his cook: the one gets no +sittings, and the other gets no dinners. + +On the whole the English female models are very naive, very +natural, and very good-humoured. The virtues which the artist +values most in them are prettiness and punctuality. Every sensible +model consequently keeps a diary of her engagements, and dresses +neatly. The bad season is, of course, the summer, when the artists +are out of town. However, of late years some artists have engaged +their models to follow them, and the wife of one of our most +charming painters has often had three or four models under her +charge in the country, so that the work of her husband and his +friends should not be interrupted. In France the models migrate EN +MASSE to the little seaport villages or forest hamlets where the +painters congregate. The English models, however, wait patiently +in London, as a rule, till the artists come back. Nearly all of +them live with their parents, and help to support the house. They +have every qualification for being immortalised in art except that +of beautiful hands. The hands of the English model are nearly +always coarse and red. + +As for the male models, there is the veteran whom we have mentioned +above. He has all the traditions of the grand style, and is +rapidly disappearing with the school he represents. An old man who +talks about Fuseli is, of course, unendurable, and, besides, +patriarchs have ceased to be fashionable subjects. Then there is +the true Academy model. He is usually a man of thirty, rarely +good-looking, but a perfect miracle of muscles. In fact he is the +apotheosis of anatomy, and is so conscious of his own splendour +that he tells you of his tibia and his thorax, as if no one else +had anything of the kind. Then come the Oriental models. The +supply of these is limited, but there are always about a dozen in +London. They are very much sought after as they can remain +immobile for hours, and generally possess lovely costumes. +However, they have a very poor opinion of English art, which they +regard as something between a vulgar personality and a commonplace +photograph. Next we have the Italian youth who has come over +specially to be a model, or takes to it when his organ is out of +repair. He is often quite charming with his large melancholy eyes, +his crisp hair, and his slim brown figure. It is true he eats +garlic, but then he can stand like a faun and couch like a leopard, +so he is forgiven. He is always full of pretty compliments, and +has been known to have kind words of encouragement for even our +greatest artists. As for the English lad of the same age, he never +sits at all. Apparently he does not regard the career of a model +as a serious profession. In any case he is rarely, if ever, to be +got hold of. English boys, too, are difficult to find. Sometimes +an ex-model who has a son will curl his hair, and wash his face, +and bring him the round of the studios, all soap and shininess. +The young school don't like him, but the older school do, and when +he appears on the walls of the Royal Academy he is called THE +INFANT SAMUEL. Occasionally also an artist catches a couple of +GAMINS in the gutter and asks them to come to his studio. The +first time they always appear, but after that they don't keep their +appointments. They dislike sitting still, and have a strong and +perhaps natural objection to looking pathetic. Besides, they are +always under the impression that the artist is laughing at them. +It is a sad fact, but there is no doubt that the poor are +completely unconscious of their own picturesqueness. Those of them +who can be induced to sit do so with the idea that the artist is +merely a benevolent philanthropist who has chosen an eccentric +method of distributing alms to the undeserving. Perhaps the School +Board will teach the London GAMIN his own artistic value, and then +they will be better models than they are now. One remarkable +privilege belongs to the Academy model, that of extorting a +sovereign from any newly elected Associate or R.A. They wait at +Burlington House till the announcement is made, and then race to +the hapless artist's house. The one who arrives first receives the +money. They have of late been much troubled at the long distances +they have had to run, and they look with disfavour on the election +of artists who live at Hampstead or at Bedford Park, for it is +considered a point of honour not to employ the underground railway, +omnibuses, or any artificial means of locomotion. The race is to +the swift. + +Besides the professional posers of the studio there are posers of +the Row, the posers at afternoon teas, the posers in politics and +the circus posers. All four classes are delightful, but only the +last class is ever really decorative. Acrobats and gymnasts can +give the young painter infinite suggestions, for they bring into +their art an element of swiftness of motion and of constant change +that the studio model necessarily lacks. What is interesting in +these 'slaves of the ring' is that with them Beauty is an +unconscious result not a conscious aim, the result in fact of the +mathematical calculation of curves and distances, of absolute +precision of eye, of the scientific knowledge of the equilibrium of +forces, and of perfect physical training. A good acrobat is always +graceful, though grace is never his object; he is graceful because +he does what he has to do in the best way in which it can be done - +graceful because he is natural. If an ancient Greek were to come +to life now, which considering the probable severity of his +criticisms would be rather trying to our conceit, he would be found +far oftener at the circus than at the theatre. A good circus is an +oasis of Hellenism in a world that reads too much to be wise, and +thinks too much to be beautiful. If it were not for the running- +ground at Eton, the towing-path at Oxford, the Thames swimming- +baths, and the yearly circuses, humanity would forget the plastic +perfection of its own form, and degenerate into a race of short- +sighted professors and spectacled PRECIEUSES. Not that the circus +proprietors are, as a rule, conscious of their high mission. Do +they not bore us with the HAUTE ECOLE, and weary us with +Shakespearean clowns? Still, at least, they give us acrobats, and +the acrobat is an artist. The mere fact that he never speaks to +the audience shows how well he appreciates the great truth that the +aim of art is not to reveal personality but to please. The clown +may be blatant, but the acrobat is always beautiful. He is an +interesting combination of the spirit of Greek sculpture with the +spangles of the modern costumier. He has even had his niche in the +novels of our age, and if MANETTE SALOMON be the unmasking of the +model, LES FRERES ZEMGANNO is the apotheosis of the acrobat. + +As regards the influence of the ordinary model on our English +school of painting, it cannot be said that it is altogether good. +It is, of course, an advantage for the young artist sitting in his +studio to be able to isolate 'a little corner of life,' as the +French say, from disturbing surroundings, and to study it under +certain effects of light and shade. But this very isolation leads +often to mere mannerism in the painter, and robs him of that broad +acceptance of the general facts of life which is the very essence +of art. Model-painting, in a word, while it may be the condition +of art, is not by any means its aim. + +It is simply practice, not perfection. Its use trains the eye and +the hand of the painter, its abuse produces in his work an effect +of mere posing and prettiness. It is the secret of much of the +artificiality of modern art, this constant posing of pretty people, +and when art becomes artificial it becomes monotonous. Outside the +little world of the studio, with its draperies and its BRIC-E-BRAC, +lies the world of life with its infinite, its Shakespearean +variety. We must, however, distinguish between the two kinds of +models, those who sit for the figure and those who sit for the +costume. The study of the first is always excellent, but the +costume-model is becoming rather wearisome in modern pictures. It +is really of very little use to dress up a London girl in Greek +draperies and to paint her as a goddess. The robe may be the robe +of Athens, but the face is usually the face of Brompton. Now and +then, it is true, one comes across a model whose face is an +exquisite anachronism, and who looks lovely and natural in the +dress of any century but her own. This, however, is rather rare. +As a rule models are absolutely DE NOTRE SIECLE, and should be +painted as such. Unfortunately they are not, and, as a +consequence, we are shown every year a series of scenes from fancy +dress balls which are called historical pictures, but are little +more than mediocre representations of modern people masquerading. +In France they are wiser. The French painter uses the model simply +for study; for the finished picture he goes direct to life. + +However, we must not blame the sitters for the shortcomings of the +artists. The English models are a well-behaved and hard-working +class, and if they are more interested in artists than in art, a +large section of the public is in the same condition, and most of +our modern exhibitions seem to justify its choice. + + + + +POEMS IN PROSE + + + + +THE ARTIST + + +ONE evening there came into his soul the desire to fashion an image +of THE PLEASURE THAT ABIDETH FOR A MOMENT. And he went forth into +the world to look for bronze. For he could think only in bronze. + +But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, nor anywhere +in the whole world was there any bronze to be found, save only the +bronze of the image of THE SORROW THAT ENDURETH FOR EVER. + +Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, fashioned, +and had set it on the tomb of the one thing he had loved in life. +On the tomb of the dead thing he had most loved had he set this +image of his own fashioning, that it might serve as a sign of the +love of man that dieth not, and a symbol of the sorrow of man that +endureth for ever. And in the whole world there was no other +bronze save the bronze of this image. + +And he took the image he had fashioned, and set it in a great +furnace, and gave it to the fire. + +And out of the bronze of the image of THE SORROW THAT ENDURETH FOR +EVER he fashioned an image of THE PLEASURE THAT ABIDETH FOR A +MOMENT. + + +THE DOER OF GOOD + + +It was night-time and He was alone. + +And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards the +city. + +And when He came near He heard within the city the tread of the +feet of joy, and the laughter of the mouth of gladness and the loud +noise of many lutes. And He knocked at the gate and certain of the +gate-keepers opened to Him. + +And He beheld a house that was of marble and had fair pillars of +marble before it. The pillars were hung with garlands, and within +and without there were torches of cedar. And He entered the house. + +And when He had passed through the hall of chalcedony and the hall +of jasper, and reached the long hall of feasting, He saw lying on a +couch of sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with red roses and +whose lips were red with wine. + +And He went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and said to +him, 'Why do you live like this?' + +And the young man turned round and recognised Him, and made answer +and said, 'But I was a leper once, and you healed me. How else +should I live?' + +And He passed out of the house and went again into the street. + +And after a little while He saw one whose face and raiment were +painted and whose feet were shod with pearls. And behind her came, +slowly as a hunter, a young man who wore a cloak of two colours. +Now the face of the woman was as the fair face of an idol, and the +eyes of the young man were bright with lust. + +And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man and +said to him, 'Why do you look at this woman and in such wise?' + +And the young man turned round and recognised Him and said, 'But I +was blind once, and you gave me sight. At what else should I +look?' + +And He ran forward and touched the painted raiment of the woman and +said to her, 'Is there no other way in which to walk save the way +of sin?' + +And the woman turned round and recognised Him, and laughed and +said, 'But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way.' + +And He passed out of the city. + +And when He had passed out of the city He saw seated by the +roadside a young man who was weeping. + +And He went towards him and touched the long locks of his hair and +said to him, 'Why are you weeping?' + +And the young man looked up and recognised Him and made answer, +'But I was dead once, and you raised me from the dead. What else +should I do but weep?' + + +THE DISCIPLE + + +When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of +sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping +through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it +comfort. + +And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet +waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of +their hair and cried to the pool and said, 'We do not wonder that +you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was +he.' + +'But was Narcissus beautiful?' said the pool. + +'Who should know that better than you?' answered the Oreads. 'Us +did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your +banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he +would mirror his own beauty.' + +And the pool answered, 'But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on +my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw +ever my own beauty mirrored.' + + +THE MASTER + + +Now when the darkness came over the earth Joseph of Arimathea, +having lighted a torch of pinewood, passed down from the hill into +the valley. For he had business in his own home. + +And kneeling on the flint stones of the Valley of Desolation he saw +a young man who was naked and weeping. His hair was the colour of +honey, and his body was as a white flower, but he had wounded his +body with thorns and on his hair had he set ashes as a crown. + +And he who had great possessions said to the young man who was +naked and weeping, 'I do not wonder that your sorrow is so great, +for surely He was a just man.' + +And the young man answered, 'It is not for Him that I am weeping, +but for myself. I too have changed water into wine, and I have +healed the leper and given sight to the blind. I have walked upon +the waters, and from the dwellers in the tombs I have cast out +devils. I have fed the hungry in the desert where there was no +food, and I have raised the dead from their narrow houses, and at +my bidding, and before a great multitude, of people, a barren fig- +tree withered away. All things that this man has done I have done +also. And yet they have not crucified me.' + + +THE HOUSE OF JUDGMENT + + +And there was silence in the House of Judgment, and the Man came +naked before God. + +And God opened the Book of the Life of the Man. + +And God said to the Man, 'Thy life hath been evil, and thou hast +shown cruelty to those who were in need of succour, and to those +who lacked help thou hast been bitter and hard of heart. The poor +called to thee and thou didst not hearken, and thine ears were +closed to the cry of My afflicted. The inheritance of the +fatherless thou didst take unto thyself, and thou didst send the +foxes into the vineyard of thy neighbour's field. Thou didst take +the bread of the children and give it to the dogs to eat, and My +lepers who lived in the marshes, and were at peace and praised Me, +thou didst drive forth on to the highways, and on Mine earth out of +which I made thee thou didst spill innocent blood.' + +And the Man made answer and said, 'Even so did I.' + +And again God opened the Book of the Life of the Man. + +And God said to the Man, 'Thy life hath been evil, and the Beauty I +have shown thou hast sought for, and the Good I have hidden thou +didst pass by. The walls of thy chamber were painted with images, +and from the bed of thine abominations thou didst rise up to the +sound of flutes. Thou didst build seven altars to the sins I have +suffered, and didst eat of the thing that may not be eaten, and the +purple of thy raiment was broidered with the three signs of shame. +Thine idols were neither of gold nor of silver that endure, but of +flesh that dieth. Thou didst stain their hair with perfumes and +put pomegranates in their hands. Thou didst stain their feet with +saffron and spread carpets before them. With antimony thou didst +stain their eyelids and their bodies thou didst smear with myrrh. +Thou didst bow thyself to the ground before them, and the thrones +of thine idols were set in the sun. Thou didst show to the sun thy +shame and to the moon thy madness.' + +And the Man made answer and said, 'Even so did I.' + +And a third time God opened the Book of the Life of the Man. + +And God said to the Man, 'Evil hath been thy life, and with evil +didst thou requite good, and with wrongdoing kindness. The hands +that fed thee thou didst wound, and the breasts that gave thee suck +thou didst despise. He who came to thee with water went away +thirsting, and the outlawed men who hid thee in their tents at +night thou didst betray before dawn. Thine enemy who spared thee +thou didst snare in an ambush, and the friend who walked with thee +thou didst sell for a price, and to those who brought thee Love +thou didst ever give Lust in thy turn.' + +And the Man made answer and said, 'Even so did I.' + +And God closed the Book of the Life of the Man, and said, 'Surely I +will send thee into Hell. Even into Hell will I send thee.' + +And the Man cried out, 'Thou canst not.' + +And God said to the Man, 'Wherefore can I not send thee to Hell, +and for what reason?' + +'Because in Hell have I always lived,' answered the Man. + +And there was silence in the House of Judgment. + +And after a space God spake, and said to the Man, 'Seeing that I +may not send thee into Hell, surely I will send thee unto Heaven. +Even unto Heaven will I send thee.' + +And the Man cried out, 'Thou canst not.' + +And God said to the Man, 'Wherefore can I not send thee unto +Heaven, and for what reason?' + +'Because never, and in no place, have I been able to imagine it,' +answered the Man. + +And there was silence in the House of Judgment. + + +THE TEACHER OF WISDOM + + +From his childhood he had been as one filled with the perfect +knowledge of God, and even while he was yet but a lad many of the +saints, as well as certain holy women who dwelt in the free city of +his birth, had been stirred to much wonder by the grave wisdom of +his answers. + +And when his parents had given him the robe and the ring of manhood +he kissed them, and left them and went out into the world, that he +might speak to the world about God. For there were at that time +many in the world who either knew not God at all, or had but an +incomplete knowledge of Him, or worshipped the false gods who dwell +in groves and have no care of their worshippers. + +And he set his face to the sun and journeyed, walking without +sandals, as he had seen the saints walk, and carrying at his girdle +a leathern wallet and a little water-bottle of burnt clay. + +And as he walked along the highway he was full of the joy that +comes from the perfect knowledge of God, and he sang praises unto +God without ceasing; and after a time he reached a strange land in +which there were many cities. + +And he passed through eleven cities. And some of these cities were +in valleys, and others were by the banks of great rivers, and +others were set on hills. And in each city he found a disciple who +loved him and followed him, and a great multitude also of people +followed him from each city, and the knowledge of God spread in the +whole land, and many of the rulers were converted, and the priests +of the temples in which there were idols found that half of their +gain was gone, and when they beat upon their drums at noon none, or +but a few, came with peacocks and with offerings of flesh as had +been the custom of the land before his coming. + +Yet the more the people followed him, and the greater the number of +his disciples, the greater became his sorrow. And he knew not why +his sorrow was so great. For he spake ever about God, and out of +the fulness of that perfect knowledge of God which God had Himself +given to him. + +And one evening he passed out of the eleventh city, which was a +city of Armenia, and his disciples and a great crowd of people +followed after him; and he went up on to a mountain and sat down on +a rock that was on the mountain, and his disciples stood round him, +and the multitude knelt in the valley. + +And he bowed his head on his hands and wept, and said to his Soul, +'Why is it that I am full of sorrow and fear, and that each of my +disciples is an enemy that walks in the noonday?' And his Soul +answered him and said, 'God filled thee with the perfect knowledge +of Himself, and thou hast given this knowledge away to others. The +pearl of great price thou hast divided, and the vesture without +seam thou hast parted asunder. He who giveth away wisdom robbeth +himself. He is as one who giveth his treasure to a robber. Is not +God wiser than thou art? Who art thou to give away the secret that +God hath told thee? I was rich once, and thou hast made me poor. +Once I saw God, and now thou hast hidden Him from me.' + +And he wept again, for he knew that his Soul spake truth to him, +and that he had given to others the perfect knowledge of God, and +that he was as one clinging to the skirts of God, and that his +faith was leaving him by reason of the number of those who believed +in him. + +And he said to himself, 'I will talk no more about God. He who +giveth away wisdom robbeth himself.' + +And after the space of some hours his disciples came near him and +bowed themselves to the ground and said, 'Master, talk to us about +God, for thou hast the perfect knowledge of God, and no man save +thee hath this knowledge.' + +And he answered them and said, 'I will talk to you about all other +things that are in heaven and on earth, but about God I will not +talk to you. Neither now, nor at any time, will I talk to you +about God.' + +And they were wroth with him and said to him, 'Thou hast led us +into the desert that we might hearken to thee. Wilt thou send us +away hungry, and the great multitude that thou hast made to follow +thee?' + +And he answered them and said, 'I will not talk to you about God.' + +And the multitude murmured against him and said to him, 'Thou hast +led us into the desert, and hast given us no food to eat. Talk to +us about God and it will suffice us.' + +But he answered them not a word. For he knew that if he spake to +them about God he would give away his treasure. + +And his disciples went away sadly, and the multitude of people +returned to their own homes. And many died on the way. + +And when he was alone he rose up and set his face to the moon, and +journeyed for seven moons, speaking to no man nor making any +answer. And when the seventh moon had waned he reached that desert +which is the desert of the Great River. And having found a cavern +in which a Centaur had once dwelt, he took it for his place of +dwelling, and made himself a mat of reeds on which to lie, and +became a hermit. And every hour the Hermit praised God that He had +suffered him to keep some knowledge of Him and of His wonderful +greatness. + +Now, one evening, as the Hermit was seated before the cavern in +which he had made his place of dwelling, he beheld a young man of +evil and beautiful face who passed by in mean apparel and with +empty hands. Every evening with empty hands the young man passed +by, and every morning he returned with his hands full of purple and +pearls. For he was a Robber and robbed the caravans of the +merchants. + +And the Hermit looked at him and pitied him. But he spake not a +word. For he knew that he who speaks a word loses his faith. + +And one morning, as the young man returned with his hands full of +purple and pearls, he stopped and frowned and stamped his foot upon +the sand, and said to the Hermit: 'Why do you look at me ever in +this manner as I pass by? What is it that I see in your eyes? For +no man has looked at me before in this manner. And the thing is a +thorn and a trouble to me.' + +And the Hermit answered him and said, 'What you see in my eyes is +pity. Pity is what looks out at you from my eyes.' + +And the young man laughed with scorn, and cried to the Hermit in a +bitter voice, and said to him, 'I have purple and pearls in my +hands, and you have but a mat of reeds on which to lie. What pity +should you have for me? And for what reason have you this pity?' + +'I have pity for you,' said the Hermit, 'because you have no +knowledge of God.' + +'Is this knowledge of God a precious thing?' asked the young man, +and he came close to the mouth of the cavern. + +'It is more precious than all the purple and the pearls of the +world,' answered the Hermit. + +'And have you got it?' said the young Robber, and he came closer +still. + +'Once, indeed,' answered the Hermit, 'I possessed the perfect +knowledge of God. But in my foolishness I parted with it, and +divided it amongst others. Yet even now is such knowledge as +remains to me more precious than purple or pearls.' + +And when the young Robber heard this he threw away the purple and +the pearls that he was bearing in his hands, and drawing a sharp +sword of curved steel he said to the Hermit, 'Give me, forthwith +this knowledge of God that you possess, or I will surely slay you. +Wherefore should I not slay him who has a treasure greater than my +treasure?' + +And the Hermit spread out his arms and said, 'Were it not better +for me to go unto the uttermost courts of God and praise Him, than +to live in the world and have no knowledge of Him? Slay me if that +be your desire. But I will not give away my knowledge of God.' + +And the young Robber knelt down and besought him, but the Hermit +would not talk to him about God, nor give him his Treasure, and the +young Robber rose up and said to the Hermit, 'Be it as you will. +As for myself, I will go to the City of the Seven Sins, that is but +three days' journey from this place, and for my purple they will +give me pleasure, and for my pearls they will sell me joy.' And he +took up the purple and the pearls and went swiftly away. + +And the Hermit cried out and followed him and besought him. For +the space of three days he followed the young Robber on the road +and entreated him to return, nor to enter into the City of the +Seven Sins. + +And ever and anon the young Robber looked back at the Hermit and +called to him, and said, 'Will you give me this knowledge of God +which is more precious than purple and pearls? If you will give me +that, I will not enter the city.' + +And ever did the Hermit answer, 'All things that I have I will give +thee, save that one thing only. For that thing it is not lawful +for me to give away.' + +And in the twilight of the third day they came nigh to the great +scarlet gates of the City of the Seven Sins. And from the city +there came the sound of much laughter. + +And the young Robber laughed in answer, and sought to knock at the +gate. And as he did so the Hermit ran forward and caught him by +the skirts of his raiment, and said to him: 'Stretch forth your +hands, and set your arms around my neck, and put your ear close to +my lips, and I will give you what remains to me of the knowledge of +God.' And the young Robber stopped. + +And when the Hermit had given away his knowledge of God, he fell +upon the ground and wept, and a great darkness hid from him the +city and the young Robber, so that he saw them no more. + +And as he lay there weeping he was ware of One who was standing +beside him; and He who was standing beside him had feet of brass +and hair like fine wool. And He raised the Hermit up, and said to +him: 'Before this time thou hadst the perfect knowledge of God. +Now thou shalt have the perfect love of God. Wherefore art thou +weeping?' And he kissed him. + + + +Footnotes: + +(1) Plato's LAWS; AEschylus' PROMETHEUS BOUND. + +(2) Somewhat in the same spirit Plato, in his LAWS, appeals to the +local position of Ilion among the rivers of the plain, as a proof +that it was not built till long after the Deluge. + +(3) Plutarch remarks that the ONLY evidence Greece possesses of the +truth that the legendary power of Athens is no 'romance or idle +story,' is the public and sacred buildings. This is an instance of +the exaggerated importance given to ruins against which Thucydides +is warning us. + +(4) The fictitious sale in the Roman marriage PER COEMPTIONEM was +originally, of course, a real sale. + +(5) Notably, of course, in the case of heat and its laws. + +(6) Cousin errs a good deal in this respect. To say, as he did, +'Give me the latitude and the longitude of a country, its rivers +and its mountains, and I will deduce the race,' is surely a glaring +exaggeration. + +(7) The monarchical, aristocratical, and democratic elements of the +Roman constitution are referred to. + +(8) Polybius, vi. 9. [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] + +(9) [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] + +(10) The various stages are [Greek text which cannot be +reproduced], [Greek text which cannot be reproduced]. + +(11) Polybius, xii. 24. + +(12) Polybius, i. 4, viii. 4, specially; and really PASSIM. + +(13) He makes one exception. + +(14) Polybius, viii. 4. + +(15) Polybius, xvi. 12. + +(16) Polybius, viii. 4: [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] + +(17) Polybius resembled Gibbon in many respects. Like him he held +that all religions were to the philosopher equally false, to the +vulgar equally true, to the statesman equally useful. + +(18) Cf. Polybius, xii. 25, [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] + +(19) Polybius, xxii. 8. + +(20) I mean particularly as regards his sweeping denunciation of +the complete moral decadence of Greek society during the +Peloponnesain War, which, from what remains to us of Athenian +literature, we know must have been completely exaggerated. Or, +rather, he is looking at men merely in their political dealings: +and in politics the man who is personally honourable and refined +will not scruple to do anything for his party. + +(21) Polybius, xii. 25. + +(22) THE TWO PATHS, Lect. iii. p. 123 (1859 ed.). + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg eText Essays and Lectures by Oscar Wilde + diff --git a/old/sandl10.zip b/old/sandl10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cde1227 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/sandl10.zip |