Ha IN MEMORIAM BERNARD MOSES :,- THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART TO THE HAPPINESS OF LIFE JSSSAVS ON VARIOUS ARTS BY T. GAMBIER PARRY LONDON JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET 1886 BERNARD DEDICATION AND APOLOGY To the many friends at whose desire these Essays are published I dedicate them, with an earnest apology for the too bold attempt to put into such limited forms sub- jects which can only be adequately treated in volumes. They are but sketches, and pretend to be no more, on subjects which best minister to life's happiness by leading it aside to look beyond it. T. G. P. HIGHNAM COURT, GLOUCESTER, June 1886. 78'77'C ERRATA FOR page line READ it is not so, an artist, &c. 9 8-9 it is not so. An artist, &c. morall ight 13 3 moral light overcame . 67 last overcome Aldebrandine no 19 Aldobrandine lithostratos i*5 6 lithostrotos Julio . 147 1 8 Giulio Tsaurian . 168 1 8 Isaurian St. Philibertse . . 219 1 6 St. Philibert Deiderius 224 3 Desiderius movements . 276 17 monuments p. 160 . 3i7 note 2 pp. 186-188 thec hurch 355 note the church CONTENTS ESSAY I PAGE THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART . i ESSAY II THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART TO COMMON LIFE . 21 ESSAY III THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART TO SPIRITUAL LIFE . 34 ESSAY IV FINE ART IN ARCHAEOLOGY 51 ESSAY V THE MINISTRY OF COLOUR TO SCULPTURE AND ARCHITECTURE 62 Part I COLOUR AND SCULPTURE . . . 62 Part II ARCHITECTURAL WALL PAINTING . 97 VI 11 CONTENTS ESSAY VI PAGE A SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF MOSAIC . . . 114 Part I ANCIENT . . . . . .114 Part II CHRISTIAN . . . . .160 ESSAY VII THE ART AND THE ARTISTS OF GLASS PAINTING, ANCIENT AND MEDIAEVAL . . . . .211 ESSAY VIII THE ADORNMENT OF SACRED BUILDINGS . . . 263 Part I PURPOSE EARLY CHRISTIAN EXAMPLES PORTRAITURE OF CHRIST CRUCIFIXION . 263 Part II EMBLEMATIC FIGURES STYLE MOTIVE 314 ESSAY IX THE BUILDERS AND BUILDINGS OF THE ABBEY OF ST. PETER AT GLOUCESTER, NOW THE CATHEDRAL . 338 APPENDIX THE METHOD OF SPIRIT FRESCO PAINTING . 363 ESSAY I THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART T^INE ART comes of the union of love and labour, for without love it has no sufficient motive, and without labour it can have no success. As all ideas cannot be put in words, art is in some form or other a human necessity ; and in the general estimate of human happiness, the result is perhaps not to be de- plored that there is no other subject that in theory and practice is treated with so much liberty. It is so easy to talk about it, and so easy and pleasant to produce a modicum of effect in it, that it is the world's favourite ; as an amusement to the multitude, who care not to look below the surface of anything, and as a bright refresh- ment for the many who are wearied by the hardness of busy life. So for these, and for much higher purposes than these, Fine Art may be said to have a mission in the world ; at least, if by that we understand the employ- ment of cultivated faculties, such as in eloquence, poetry, or any other combination of soul and sense by which men affect each other ; and as each one's talent may be, his mission is to do that talent's work. Thus genius finds its purpose, and had best follow its own bent, whether in prose or poetry. The genius of the artist needs both, for the real and the ideal, which in their general meaning answer to them, are the body and B 2 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY soul of all art ; for in the broad sense of its require- ments, realism is but fidelity to nature's laws, without which all would be distortion and discord, and idealism '!' : :'-. is fyut : ,ttie; play of imagination, drawing fresh notes from the great instrument of nature's music. But all the '. i ':' vX^orld -ne.ecj -not-'be critics, and for their happiness they had better not ; for the strife over the real and ideal, inflamed by the differences of taste and temper, can never be fought out till the inherent and misleading varieties of thought and sense cease to exist in human character. Art is no light matter for those who would really master it. Its science is as needful as its poetry ; for its works may be ideally conceived, but they need to be produced as things of reality to bring them within reach of comprehension. It is this compound nature that gives them all their charm and power ; on their material side as things of skill, on their spiritual side as the interpreters of the intellect, the emotions, and the passions of men ; and thus it is that art approaches so closely to our affections, and can become the companion of our lives. The soul of art may sound a mere poetical expression, but it is as true as the plainest prose ; for just as in ourselves the life of the soul is the invisible source of all that gives value to our outward forms, so that mysterious life which glows from within the cold marble of the sculptor, or gleams from beneath the surface of the painter's art, is that without which their works are worthless, but before which we bow in acknowledgment of that soul in them which claims sympathy with our own. A writer on Art has difficulties unknown to scien- tific literature. Without precision science would become a wilderness ; so its language is simple, clear, and definite ; but in art, of which the first element is liberty, language can only hope to express its elasticity by i THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART 3 adopting a pliancy suited to it. Words must often be taken on trust. If science were to demand of her sister a rigid definition of grace or beauty, and to require their comparison without confusion of terms, or the difference between power and vigour, in their artistic sense, or the definition of such qualities as freshness, purity, harmony, all which have equally and distinctly a moral as well as a material signification, the answer would, at least, not be easy. A wide margin must be allowed ; and, lastly, there is the word " art " itself, a very bane of letters, with a signifi- cation wide enough to embrace every work of hand or brain, and yet so utterly inadequate as to be useless without an adjective. The art of the mechanic is the embodiment of his skill ; the art of the artist is the embodiment of his ideas : but the best artist needs to be half mechanic, for though his genius is a thing of spirit, his labour is upon things of material ; and as his work is to give form and consistency to what is ethereal and ideal, he needs as much the mechanic's skill as the poet's fire. The first step in a student's life is to divest his mind of all idea that genius can dispense with labour. Art- feeling is not sentimentality nor art-practice ingenuity. A good eye and nimble fingers are great natural advan- tages ; but let him beware of them, for they are the qualities of a talent that is painfully likely to run away with itself, and without training can only come to grief. Let him approach nature as something to love and work with, as something so deep and full as takes a life to learn. Be his disposition what it may, be the ultimate object of his study what it may, the same devotion, the same labour, the grasp of the same great principles by which his mind is trained to master what his hand is trained to do, make the one and only grammar of suc- cess for all. The student's next step is to learn all about his 4 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY materials, and not to leave them haphazard on trust, as though such mechanical and material things were be- neath his notice. He has some good examples to the contrary from men who, valuing their talents as worthy of fame, and their works worthy of durability, mastered and supervised the whole detail of their art, from the times of Apelles, who painted the portrait of Alex- ander the Great, with his lads all about him working up his colours, to those of Pietro Perugino surrounded by his pupils, training them to their business, in what he called not his studio but his shop. The third step is a long one from youth to age, to realise to himself the dignity of an artist's office and duty to the world ; and to cultivate a manly vigour as the tone of mind, and a pure freshness as the disposition of heart, with which he will certainly be best able to perform it. Manliness is the corrective of that sentimentality which is art's bane ; and clear and fresh is the atmosphere that invigorates an artist's life, breathing health into all his impressions, thoughts, and works. The tenderest subject, the most exalted strain of religion, the utmost refinement of poetry, are no exceptions. ' Morbid humour and weak sentiment mar them ; but just as a strong man's fingers touch an instrument of music with the surest delicacy, the sculptor and the painter prove the same result, that the manliest mind, in the purity of its health, as tender as it is strong, is best able to stir to anger or to melt to tears. And this is no less the case in subjects altogether apart from any direct human interests, or any such as appeal to the emotions stirred by the incidents of daily life or history ; but in such as external nature affords to those with capacity to comprehend them, it is by the healthy strength of deeply human thought that its effects are best apprehended and illustrated. Ask the artist, ask the poet, sensible to such impressions, what it is in I THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART 5 his pursuits that so absorbs him, and he will reply that in all the things and circumstances of existence he traces the presence of a hidden life : that if he studies with so deep devotion the forms and features of the material world, it is so because in them he reads the great character of a language to which the depth of his own nature responds. The universe seems his own, overwhelming him by its sublimity, encouraging him by its beauty, and thus he loves to write or paint these things, that he may clothe in tangible, visible, enduring forms the deep thoughts which all these things sug- gested to him ; and to interpret to men with less insight than himself those signs of power and beauty, wisdom and beneficence, which God's creative finger- marks have left traced and tinted, engraved and stamped on everything. Here is a great motive which suggests the question, "What is the purpose of fine art?" i.e. is any purpose assignable as the basis of its existence that distin- guishes it from all other subjects ? The arts which compose it are totally distinct in ideal and in execution, and every artist appears to have a special purpose in every work he produces. Is there then no general purpose which binds them all together? The common broad division of subjects into science, art, and litera- ture, indicate some clear definition ; and of these, science and literature appear to tell their purpose at once and plainly, but fine art is so wide and various in its nature and its works that it does not so. Music and architecture are essentially constructive, painting and sculpture are representative : . yet there is one quality that links them all, and what is that but the expression of the sense of beauty ? It is the element of beauty that characterises all fine art. Where other arts, as those of the artificer or manufacturer, infringe upon it, as many do in many 6 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY ways, it is that element of beauty that blends their outlines. The sense of beauty, and the desire to express it, is the vital spark of an artist's impulse, and it may be aroused as much by moral as by material Nature. Some motive drawn from history, religion, or the events of daily life, or from effects of external nature, may have interested his imagination, and he seizes on a subject for a picture. It is easy to perceive how the sense of physical beauty may have arrested him, and have engrossed his powers ; but even where no visible beauty is present, the admiration of his moral sense has engaged him, as by the beauty of fidelity, the beauty of self-devotion, of heroism, of the elements of a great character, of noble actions, of charity, life, and truth, all of them subjects of effective illustration, even where very little of physical or material beauty appeared. An artist may be com- missioned to do a work irksome to himself, and it is so because there is no form or character of beauty in it to which his sense, i.e. his moral or physical perception, can respond. Where his impulse is, there is beauty. The effect of beauty is to engage affection, and its power is irresistible. We love what is beautiful ; we cannot love what is hideous. Devoted love blinds the eyes where beauty shines through some transcendent loveliness of character, or where a great and noble one commands that admiration which needs but one touch of nature to kindle love. It does so where no form or feature of external beauty may exist. So too it is the beauty of structure in the perfect union of great forces of nature, such as weight and equilibrium, with perfect proportion ideally and harmoniously wrought together, as in archi- tecture, which is the beauty of power in repose. Even horror, fury, or desolation may be so intimately con- nected with some form or character of beauty in the artist's moral sense as to have impelled him to its i THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART 7 expression ; such as the beauty of grief in view of ruin, the beauty of intensest sympathy with either the cause or the sufferer from the fury which agonised it, the beauty of pathos, and even of death. So in music and in sculpture, it is the rhythmic beauty of form and sounds into which the artist is impelled to clothe and to express his thoughts. In external nature, where man has not marred it, all is beautiful, in calm or storm, in fertility or in desert. So too in much of animal life, and in the exquisite cosmos of all created things. The sense of moral or physical beauty is the source of all art's motive. That beauty gained the artist's love, and his labour realised it. The purpose of all fine art is tJie^expression of the sense of bea^ity. But why and what is art's existence? what is the mystery that lies at the bottom of that necessity for it that all mankind has felt from the prehistoric carver of things and ornaments to the most civilised and most thoughtful of the modern world ? The existence of art is at once a testimony and an appeal ; the witness to and the appeal from that which by its irresistible force obliges us to recognise it as a reality, a reality irrespective of time and space, of life or death, always urgent for attention a witness to a power beyond mortal grasp or range of sense, a power that asserts itself as commanding our respect, an appeal like a voice ever sounding in our ears, as from a living source, that we cannot refuse to listen to ; its existence is a mystery, and is inexplicable, else it were no mystery ; but mysteries inexplicable exist as facts, and this one of art's existence is so ; and as a fact it is that man in every age and in every condition has been and is its pupil, its servant, its disciple, com- manded by it, blessed by it, benefited by it, because the voice of it, the voice of spiritual and physical beauty, is one that he has no power to resist, for it 8 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY comes from the divine source of his own self and of all things else, and speaks, calls, appeals to him from and for a higher life than that of sense, and stirs him in the deepest depths of his being. It is that sense of divine beauty that masters him ; and his art is the feeble expression of his sense of it ; his acknowledgment and his worship of that which has cast across his path of mortal toil the light of its life and the shadow of its reality. The truism that " a poet is born, not made," is often no more than the apology of indolence ; but the poet must go to school, and his wings must grow by practice. If they be exceptions which other days afford, such as those of Homer and of Dante, as beings endowed with genius to create at once a language and a literature, history also records the thousand names of other men who created the philosophy, the science, and the arts of the world, whose genius was transcendent, but whose trust was only in study and self-help, as the one safe maxim of successful life. Well then may we bless the memories and follow in the steps of those grand patri- archs of modern sculpture and painting, Niccola Pisano, Orcagna, Arnolfo, Giotto, who fed the enthusiasm of their genius by lifelong study among the models and suggestions of a living, beautiful, and inexhaustible nature. Such were and so worked those men, and others like them, of undying fame. They lived to work, and they worked to live ; for it is no mere flourish of vain rhetoric to say that it is the hand of industry alone that can put the crown upon the head of Genius. One main part of an artist's study is to learn to see. Blind men always say they see, but most people have no idea how blind they are for any artistic purpose, simply because they don't know what to look for, or how to look at it. The real artist-eye is a creature of i THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART 9 education. It does what it is told ; but there is no short and easy way of drilling it to this obedience, but only by thoughtful analysis and work. An artist learns both how to see and how not to see. A student cannot see too much for learning, but an artist can see too much for painting. In the unlimited breadth of nature an in- finity of detail may exist without marring the unity of effect ; but in the very limited field of art it is not so, an artist cannot be too conscientious ; but art is art, and by overdoing it he may paint out all his poetry. An overloaded work of sculpture, or of painting, or of any other art, is as wearisome as an overloaded sentence. Let us examine these statements by a few examples. What is the purpose that an artist sets before him ? What is the process in the artist's mind that culminates in a work of highest character ? If it be merely to re- produce the facts of what he has seen a representative copy of some group of things or figures ; why, then, the mechanism of his art and a good deal of patience will do all he wants. But can it be for some such poor pur- pose of commonplace as that ? Is there no difference between the artist and the artisan ? Is it for such bare portraiture of the outsides of things that men like these are possessed by an impulse, call it passion, call it in- spiration, call it what you will, that urges them forward to express in outward character what their heart had conceived ? Surely not ! Some occasion of life or history, some accident of forms and colours, some poetry of action, or the equal poetry of repose, some thought, some memory of all these, heightened by asso- ciation, has occupied their whole mind, and has fired their imagination. It was not the image nor idea, but the emotion which that idea aroused that urged him to expression, and brought forth his art. It was the impulse of an emotion such as this which produced the figure of the Apollo Belvedere. The io THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY moment of the action is supreme. The head is turned ; the eyes are intently fixed. The arrow has flown ; the right hand is thrown back in satisfaction, and the joy of the artist is expressed in the dignified agitation of the god. One needs a portion of a poet's genius to under- stand his poetry ; and to understand a work of high art, as such, one needs to appreciate the motive of the artist's inspiration. When Leonardo da Vinci under- took the commission to paint the subject of the " Last Supper," an event was presented to his mind of which no record had preserved the detail. Many artists had treated that subject before his time. Some had chosen one period of it, some another. Some, like Beato Angelico, had selected that moment when the Eucharist was instituted. The devotional habit of his mind was reflected in the character of his composition. He re- presented the Apostles in the attitude of kneeling, to express at once the intensity of their reverence, and his conception of the solemnity of that scene. Leonardo da Vinci chose a totally different ideal of it. His sub- ject is that of the moment before Judas's betrayal. The scene, as he depicted it, was essentially that of the Last Supper of the Hebrew Passover, as distinguished from the Institution of the Christian Eucharist. There was no model for such a picture. Had Leonardo seen the agape in the Catacombs, their suggestions of a tra- ditional ceremonial would have added nothing to those of the few and pregnant words of Holy Scripture. His work was to realise an ideal of his own. The vivid picture which occupied his imagination was not merely one of men's figures and attitudes, and forms and com- binations of pictorial effect. His was a mental vision, entrancing him by the conception of that scene of un- paralleled pathos. The artist's spirit is mute in the presence of that company ; awed by the quiet dignity i THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART 11 and resignation of the Divine Master, and by all that power of intellectual and moral beauty that could be conceived in the countenance of One who said, and who was the actor of what He said, " Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." The quiet majesty of that central figure is magnified by the dramatic movement of the Apostles on the right and left, each in an attitude of characteristic emotion astonishment, remonstrance, incredulity, horror that One so divinely holy, so perfectly lovable by all, should declare that " One of YOU shall betray me." If poetry be indeed, as it truly is, only another form of art, Fine Art, I mean, here in this wondrous wall paint- ing we realise it to perfection. The work is great, because the depth of its poetry is great. Many others have portrayed that scene, but who has ever concen- trated all its interest as in this masterpiece ? Leonardo felt it with intensity, and filled to the full with the poetry of it, he laboured to realise not a mere repre- sentation of the event or record of its story, but his own ideal conception of its beauty, its religion, and its pathos. The impulse of all high art, be the subject what it may, must operate in the same manner ; for, after all, art would fail of half its mission, which is the inter- change of human sympathies, if its works were no more than representations of matters of fact. If it be argued against this theory that no Art can transcend Nature, nor exceed the beauty of natural effect (be the subject what it may), and that this natural beauty and the utmost intensity of expression is, in that case, " matter of fact," I entirely assent to such a statement of the case, but what I urge is something beside it. It is mere waste of words to talk of allowing and insisting that Art could not surpass the facts or the beauty of Nature, and that the result would only be exaggeration 12 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY and deformity if it attempted to do so. But I venture rather to insist that Nature (in the artistic sense of the word, distinct from all scientific associations) Nature is in the soul of men quite as truly and powerfully as in the things and appearances of the external world. The nature of the world within and that of the world around the artist is the same Beauty is an abstract quality, utterly mysterious, attributed on one side to the actions and appearances of things, but assigned on the other side, with equal or greater force, to the ideal of their moral qualities and associations. For just as it is a scientific fact that the phenomenon of noise would not exist if ears had not been created, though all the heavens crashed with thunder, so it is that all the variety of natural forms which now charm our eyes those colours, proportions, and effects which arrest and delight us would be as though they were not, but for the capacity of the mind to comprehend them as sym- bols of grace or grandeur. Their forms and colours are for themselves mere necessities of growth, and the effect of their chemistry and light. Their movements are the results of pressure of air, water, or their own weight. They are in themselves items of creation, with variety of purpose and value in the economy of Nature. They present figures to the eyes of beasts, and by their size, shape, and colour, they are distinguished as poisonous or good for food ; the secluded lake attracts the heron for its fish ; the colour and the scent of the rose attract the insects for its honey. But bring them within reach of that power of moral perception which is within us, that inward vision by which those figures are received on the retina of our mind, and then all their character is changed; their forms become types of moral qualities, such as power or grace ; their variety, their colours, their very existence, become a joy till then unknown ; their natural history is changed to poetry ; their growth, I THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART 13 their movements, and all the living things around them, the morning and the evening, become illumined by that moral-1 ight which beams back upon them, reflected from within ourselves. All Nature is seen, suffused at once with the charm with which our moral insight perceives it to be clothed. The moral of beauty is a concep- tion of the soul, interpreting the address of Nature. These thoughts were suggested by the consideration of what was the process within the artist's mind by which great works of art were produced. Fine art, though in one sense it is a work of skill, is, in the other (and the only sense that makes it precious to the world), the mirror of the artist's mind. Thus it has often happened that some subject unnoticed by common eyes, or some sudden revival of memory, has struck a chord in the music of an artist's poetry ; and at once he grasps its transitory beauty, he throws upon it the whole energy of his art, he rescues the vision for life, and stamps it, in perpetuity, with the beauty and the interest that he saw and felt in it, for the joy of men. It was thus that the scene of an old hulk, disfigured by work and war, worn out and useless, fit only to be broken up for firewood or old iron, struck upon the imagination of our great landscape painter Turner. What might it not have been in other hands than his ? Probably the form of any old ship, battered into picturesqueness by force of age, and indebted to the work of weather and sea-water for the broken colours of its timbers, its rusty iron and green corroded copper, might have made a fair subject for a picture, even by the most prosy copyist of the facts before him. Not so Turner that devoted student, that exquisite copier of Nature, as he was, who delighted the world, not as the mere chronicler of Nature's facts, but, by bringing Nature's life to Nature's surface, he drew out 14 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY all her latent beauty, he seized it by his skilful art, and gave it permanence. His pictures are not the mere portraits of things, but expressions of the way he loved to think about them. He presented to the world pictures of well-known scenes and circumstances, not as either he himself or as any one else, perhaps, ever saw them. He, as the accomplished student of Nature, knew what they might appear under some pJiase of natural effect most suited to them ; and thus, as an artist, he knew what they ought to be, with all their features and their character true to Nature, but with all the prose of their commonplace transformed to poetry. Thus, in the illustration I have chosen, the old disfigured hulk, being dragged away to be broken up into the ugly rubbish of a marine storedealer, became, through the magic of his conception of it, that perfect poem upon canvas, the old ship (the Temeraire) towed away to her last home. The deep glow of an autumnal and shrouded sunset, reflected in the still waters of the harbour, gives the tone and key to the whole scene. About the centre of the picture lies the old ship, with all the disfigurements of the battle and the storm veiled from sight by the mellow twilight. It is drawn forward slowly and heavily by a small steamboat, with rolling smoke and gurgling wreaths of steam, and, by their contrast to the intense quietude around, making the silent procession of that old hero's funeral only still more solemn. Such was Turner's conception of the scene. A hero's epitaph written in colours. You may remember that just now I said that one phase in the art of seeing Nature was to train the eyes what not to see. For that purpose I have drawn your attention to two works of totally different character ; each, regarded as the work of human skill employed for the expression of human feeling, perfect. And if you i THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART 15 analysed the composition of those great works, you would find that their power of expression depended as much on the artifice of omission as on what was repre- sented ; just as in the drama, where the author pro- duces a climax of effect by skilful omission, leaving the last deed of tragedy to the excited imagination of the audience. The principle is the same in sculpture as in painting. It is simply the avoidance of all that would disquiet the design, or contribute nothing to its expres- sion. The qualities of repose and dignity, which are among the greatest characteristics of the greatest art of all times, are mainly obtained by the artifice of selection and omission. Its extreme use is shown in the Assyrian and Egyptian sculptures. The extreme opposite is only too apparent at all periods of depraved and fallen arts, where ornament attempts to mask the absence of idea. In no case in modern art (meaning by that all that is not classical or mediaeval) is this great principle of artistic effect more completely illustrated than in the figure of Lorenzo dei Medici by Michael Angelo in the Medicean Chapel at Florence. The design is the em- bodiment of one great conception. Not one scrap of detail embarrasses the sight. The great sculptor knew well what to avoid as well as what to accentuate for the expression of his idea. There is no intrusion there upon the solemnity of that awful figure. That statue is the perfect ideal of a troubled mind, occupied in the silent horror of its thoughts. I hope that I am not fatiguing you with too many illustrations. You will find, the deeper you pursue your study, that the perfected skill of the trained eye and hand in the employment of this apparently simple artifice is the last attainment of the greatest artist, and the secret of the breadth and power of his works. In this too lies the secret charm of all good conventional art. We may notice it in many ways. For instance, 1 6 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY it explains the peculiar beauty which the very imperfect works of early and mediaeval art possess. But any one who failed to read the undercurrent of their poetry (which he would, if he had none in himself), would be likely to condemn them by a criticism which has much truth on the surface of it. He would say that the omissions in them were not the meritorious omissions of good work, but the omissions of ignorance, producing blemishes and deformities. But these works, with all their evident defects, are a mine of religious poetry, and all their excellence is in the expression of it. Suppose it to be a group of figures on panel, on glass, or in mosaic. The group is that of a mother, a child, a bird, a wreath, a crown, a golden halo : but the features are incorrectly drawn, not a finger has a knuckle, the perspective is wrong, the draperies are false ; but who cares ? Why criticise that which makes no pretension ? What critic worthy of his name would look for what was not known to Art at the time the work was executed ? No ; look rather for what does pretend to be there ; a holy family ; a mother wrapt in contemplation of her own Child : that Child's majesty indicated by the crown it wears, its divinity by the aureole, its innocence and tenderness by its simple attitude. Let the technical defects be allowed, and let the generosity of educated criticism pass them over, but see beneath the poor surface of that frail art the earnest genius of the artist, and the fervent devotion of his religious poetry ; such as all the training of modern art would fail to approach, unless, indeed, the same spirit were there to guide the more educated hand. The greatest scope for the exhibition of these great principles is where the arts of sculpture and painting combine with architecture, that great art which embraces all others within herself. So true is this, that the safest advice to a young architectural student is to let I THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART 17 all specialities of architecture wait till he has mastered the great principles which underlie all art composition, design, contrast, the construction and meaning of ornament, the use and power of colour, shadow, mass, and the treatment of detail. All these must first be known, for architecture is no mere thing of capitals and columns, groined roofs or sculptured cornices ; but, in a word, it is the focus of all mechanical and artistic knowledge, science, and genius, brought together by one grasp of comprehensive intelligence. All its styles, technicality, and mathematics, can be learnt by rote but a great architect must be first an artist. Those works which ultimately affect us the most powerfully are those which suggest rather than define, and leave our thoughts room to expand. Architecture has a special power to effect this, for its character is essentially abstract. Breadth of effect is as much the excellence of one art as of another ; and just as it is that none but a great architect dares to build an expanse of bare wall (for he knows well the power of its effect when used rightly), so the great artist painter will afford, in all his works, areas of quietude, that our eyes may wander about or rest at will, and thus come fresh upon his points of interest and emphasis, charmed by the alternation of action and repose. Treated by this plain artifice, the commonest things may become objects of interest and beauty. What, for instance, could be less attractive under ordinary effects than a Cambridgeshire fen or a Dutch plain ? And yet what can be more charmingly poetical than some landscapes by such men as Cuyp or Both, with their simple com- position of a subject where all the incidents are per- haps little more than a willow-tree and a cow or two ? But the air is so pure and full of light, the villages clustering round their church steeples on the horizon lie so quiet in the happy rest of evening, the contrast C 1 8 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY of the rounded forms of summer clouds with the level lines of the landscape, and the long cool shadows of the setting sun, make a lovely poem out of nothing. Our interest demands no more, and our eyes can feast on it in charmed repose. But I need trouble you with no more examples. I have spoken of students, but the greatest artist has ever been the keenest student to his dying day. Nature has been to him his unfailing resource and relief, and is to him as the very food of his life ; his heart and mind are occupied in the contemplative study of it ; he sees, he feels, he marvels at its beauty ; he asks what is this power that so entrances him ? Here are qualities, properties of external nature totally distinct from any action of the physical phenomena about him : forms and colours are physical necessities ; but it is by no means with them alone that he is con- cerned ; it is that extraneous quality belonging to them, beauty, physically useless and materially unac- countable, that occupies his whole mind. Here is a power as universal as material existence, but utterly free and independent of its laws. How is it then that we, if we be but creatures of material, can be affected by it ? By what capacity, by what faculty of our nature do we perceive it, know it, love it, and by its irresistible influence we love all things that possess it ? Here is a power in weak, perishable, insensate things, which is itself imperishable. If beauty be not a hallucination, it must of necessity be accepted as a fact. Call it a quality of things, call it a phenomenon, call it an attribute, but it remains a fact ; and all the more marvellous as a property of material things, and yet possessing no phenomena in common with them. It is a power without force, a reality without measure of its existence. By all the experience, by all the evidence of the THE PURPOSE AND PRACTICE OF FINE ART 19 moral and physical world, beauty is a thing of life. In ourselves the very recognition of beauty is an earnest of immortality. Our moral sense of it is in unison with our physical sense. We measure things by its formula, because all that is good appears beauti- ful, and evil is but a negation, the moral deformity of what once was good. The measure of the human soul can be taken only by the measure of its moral faculties. In the contem- plation of beauty, and in the cultivation of our know- ledge of it, we are feeding the highest faculties of our nature. In that image the human soul recognises some elements of its own nature. The height of its aspirations offer to it a criterion for its estimate of itself, and it possesses through that element of beauty a communion with all nature, deep and intimate as by no other means is possible. The source of art's immortal fire is in the hearts of men ; and the beauty of external nature is the symbol of that Divine light which illuminates both it and them. It is not the poetry of the artist that clothes Nature with those Divine attributes but by that precious gift implanted in him, he sees them as others cannot, and so reflects them from his own mind as to make them at once comprehensible to others and their delight. Indeed, one of the most precious duties that fine art can perform is so to present Nature to men's eyes as to make them love that Nature more. Nature is the embodiment of the thoughts of God : and Fine Art is the embodiment of the thoughts of men, to which that Nature has afforded the motive and expression a treasury of things and thoughts most precious to human life, as inexhaustible by the hopeful enthusiasm of youth, as by the meditative memory of age. Such is the character of art's best ministry to the intellectual health and happiness of life. Imagination 20 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY i and those emotions that art expresses may act and react on each other, as the impulse of character directs them ; but let an artist remember that the value of his skill is not merely in the writing of his own thoughts well, but in teaching others to read them. Incomprehensible art is only so much rubbish, and selfish and sensual art is only worthy of the flames. Under an impulse, well - nigh irresistible, an artist's mind is carried onward as by a passion, without thought of self or others ; but the heart of the man for light or darkness, sympathy or selfishness, good or evil, underlies it all, and is its own unconscious witness to the world of the real worth of all he does. Earnest- ness, ability, and skill are, of course, the elements of all success ; and with these the noblest heart will always do the noblest work, to dignify the aims of life, to fill its waste places with strength, and to satisfy its best desires. There is thus a fire that burns within a man's breast, kindling heart, mind, and imagination, raising memory to idea, and inspiring material with life : but the man is stopped in his upward career by the barriers of his earthly state ; he battles with the irksomeness of his mortal bonds ; he knows that his work is but a flash from the light which shines within him ; that his weak hands can never reach, nor can their poor tools realise the full greatness of his burn- ing thoughts. He bows, obeys, and works. What can he more? The highest and the purest art is that which is fed at the fountain of healthy imagination, for the food of that is Truth. ESSAY II THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART TO COMMON LIFE TJ*INE art cannot make but ministers to life's happi- ness by contributing to the elements of its enjoy- ment, spreading its works freely before the world for acceptance or rejection, and leaving the pleasure and the profit of them dependent on the capacities it approaches and the sympathies it meets. Without them its work and office is but a blank. Without capacity to appreciate or sympathy to endear them, its loveliest works are as worthless as food is to sight or music to the sense of smell ; and all its offers and appeals fall profitless, as sunshine on the desert or eloquence on the ears of the dead. Art may contribute to the luxury of life, but luxury does not make life's happiness. Art's delight is in the individual mind that opens to it ; and its contribution to the brightness of public life is its result on many minds, affording that sense of pleasure and contentment that the multitude receives, acknowledging the enjoyment without caring to comprehend. It needs no knowledge of how such pleasure comes ; but, as freely as it breathes the air, that multitude enjoys and loves the arts that cheer its homes and embellish its cities, where the lust of the eye is not a sin, nor the pride of life other than a patriotic virtue. There is a closer relationship between prose and 22 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY poetry, romance and reality, in the course of common life about us than many, who are deeply versed in the dry business of it, care to take account of. But if the incidents were brought to light, and the tales were told of all the suffering and heroism, the misfortunes, the infirmities, and the struggles of humanity that, with all their lights and shadows of noble virtue and uncommuni- cable sadness, compose the real pictures of those social states about which statistics are registered and philo- sophic schemes are formed, the volumes would read like romances, and the records would be subjects more fit for poets and artists than for the statist or the politician. In the cold, mechanical routine of life that necessity may have forced upon them, our people need heart- relief as much as rest of head and muscle. They have souls to satisfy and sympathies that crave response ; and to many such as they art offe/s, as naught else can with equal ease, the resources of cheering and congenial enjoyment. In whatever way it be regarded, whether for its practice or its pleasure, its poetry or its prose, as an object of pursuit or an element of education, it would be hard to find, unless in the equally wide and fascinating interest of natural sciences, aught else that opens the way to so many issues of healthy pleasure or of solid benefit. But it pretends to no panacea for all the ills of life. A power it is, but one which rather follows than leads ; for its forces depend on what they find to act upon, and the wills and ways that are open to them. There is indeed a power greater than it, and art can be its effective servant to tell through faithful eyes the truths that ears are often dull to. But there is another power also greater than it that loves to deck out evil in the garb of beauty, and would pervert its course from purity to shame ; such heights does it open to those who will to rise, such depths to those who choose to fall. TO COMMON LIFE 23 It needs no artist's eye or sentiment to perceive how greatly life is affected by the aspects of things around it. Climate and race may decide the national lines and features of it, but its accidents and aspects are the influences that sway its tone and temper, to brighten or depress, to exalt or barbarise. Our national arts had flourished once, but they were wrecked some centuries ago. Since then the demand for any sort of art at all, for many long years, came only from the wealthy few, and mainly for their vanity's sake. The things that surrounded the daily life of our people gradually lost all that had given a colour of blitheness or artistic sense to it. The national char- acter, which had been reflected in the aspect of all around them, and had been the secret of all the charm in the incidents of public and private life, had gradually disappeared. Things had once been lovable for their national individuality. The old narrow street, with all its interest of home endearment, with its pleasant out- line of overhanging roofs and gables, quaint dormers, turrets, and spires of shining shingle carved woodwork and painted panelling, and all the cheery sense of friendship, warmth, and comfort that they gave the deep chimney corner, the pleasant open porch, with their associations of rest, of refreshment, of warm- hearted hospitality and all else that could nourish in our people the last and least sense of the poetry of common life, gave way before the desolating hand of social and political change. National taste and feeling became a blank. A foreign form of art in its repulsive character of bleak unsuggestiveness came into vogue. Stiffness and meanness took the place of the old- fashioned pleasantness and elasticity, and all forms of art endeared by national sympathy died away. So had all great and good art everywhere, and what remained was forced, unnatural, and frivolous. All 24 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY over civilised Europe no art but that of lowest type was presented to the people, and in our own country so deep had been the fall of public feeling, that con- tempt for art was regarded as a virtue akin to manli- ness. But the craving for beauty is irrepressible. It may be for awhile kept still by inevitable events of national or individual life ; it may be poisoned by calamity, misdirected by vice, chilled by oppression, and dormant for the very want of all healthy food : but the hunger for it is a part of our nature, because beauty is a natural element of life, and is inseparable from it. It was from the very weariness of the national and individual heart for want of things beautiful that the cry arose that awoke the dormant spirit of the arts. If in one more than in another, it has been rather in town than in country life that their aid has been most needed and their benefit most evident. Country life brings with itself its own opportunities of refresh- ment in pure Nature's beauty spread lavishly around it, with its varying phases that change with every mood of mind, as though the very air were in- habited by some sympathising spirit that received and responded to all that humanity might feel or tell ; but town life, especially for such as necessity binds closely within it, has no such ever-present restoratives. Some change of interest or occupation is their main resource, but rarely such as to relieve them from themselves ; and the aspect of life about them is heavy with fatigue. Wide and delightful opportunities are opened to them by the pursuits of literature and science, though not without exertion ; but the pleasure and profit that pure art brings to such as they are too often worn with toil or jaded with artificiality are like the balmy fra- grance of a mountain breeze, or such light and refresh- ment to weary minds as a spring morning spreads upon TO COMMON LIFE 25 the weary world, when all things seem bright and blithe, as though winter were gone for ever. Art is serious work indeed, as those know well who know it best ; but art must have its holiday, and no phase of it, however light it be, is to be despised if it do but keep its self-respect. The very object of it all is happiness; so no art worthy of its name is despicable. What is despicable comes not of the effusion of hearty feeling as the grotesque often does, and good carica- ture does always but of vicious affectation. Beside those grander forms of art which represent the scenes of history and religion, and are precious for the fame of noble deeds and national honour, there are many less serious modes of interest and expression that throw sunshine over life. Among them the art of landscape is like a perpetual holiday. Fresh and free, with emotions of vague pleasure, far from the cares of life or thoughts of trouble and fatigue, it borrows the poetry of Nature's transient charms, that come like a breath and vanish like a ray, but staying their flight and making them a lasting joy. It seems strange that landscape painting should have so long delayed its development as to have reached its maturity only in modern times ; for if there be any form of art that is universal in its relation to human feeling, it is that of landscape an art which addresses itself not merely to those who have the poetic sense to perceive the moral of its beauty, but to the homeliest sentiments and commonest interests of daily life. It was the universal recurrence to Nature for the power of its illustration and the tenderest touches of its sentiment that, from earliest times, endeared poetry to mankind ; and yet the representative arts paid no regard to it but for the general purpose of a background, nor to its features but for their symbolism, as emblems of personal or moral attributes. These were the notes only, with 26 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY here and there a phrase, but not the full chorus of Nature's universal hymn : its figures were idealised ; its powers were deified, but the power of its beauty was not comprehended, nor the depths of Nature's nature touched by it. It needed a new ideal of thought and aspiration to train the faculties so to perceive the elements of poetry in the effects of the external world, and so to embrace the union of its moral and material beauty as to translate its impressions into the language of art. Music, the latest of the arts to attain its highest development in our own time, has an intimate relation- ship with this art of landscape in the sources of its inspiration, and even in some cases a greater power than it in portraying the surrounding scenery of life. Human passion does not exhaust the range of musical expression as it breaks out in the power and loveliness of song, but the whole poetry of Nature is open to it. Music can pursue the storm, and follow the passing hours, the changing aspects of earth, sea, and sky, of day and night ; and, with profounder sympathy than any other art, music can bring within the range of sense the echo of those whispers that, from the depths of Nature's mystery, arrest and overwhelm the soul ; while landscape art, though its range seems infinite, and its charms as inexhaustible as Nature, can do no more than seize upon some transient effect, the action or the sentiment of one passing scene, and perpetuate only the beauty of a moment But there is another sphere of art the very opposite of this, wilful and artificial indeed, but most pleasant, that must not be omitted among the many forms of it that contribute to life's happiness ; for if art is to be entertained as a means to that beneficent result, the wider range, within reason and respect, that we can give it, the more approaches will be open to the many varying capacities of mind it has to reach. Lyric art TO COMMON LIFE 27 has always had its place, and ought to have it still. Lyric painting, no less than lyric poetry and music, is lovely ; lyric sculpture is the very embodiment of grace and happiness ; and even lyric architecture is possible, not merely in those studied forms of which the choragic monument of Lysicrates in ancient classic, or the fagade of the Ca d'Oro at Venice in mediaeval domestic, or the chapel of Rosslyn in northern Gothic, may suggest ideas, but in its lighter and more wayward forms among the pleasant and graceful buildings that mingle with the sylvan scenery of our parks and gardens, and add by their brightness to the charm of the picturesque. If some- times the strains of lyric art need apology, they have it in their playfulness ; but to avoid offence such play needs to be like that of Leonardo da Vinci's caricatures, that, in all their exuberance of whim, never transgressed anatomy. It is a possible but confessedly a dangerous experiment, for there are borders and precipices in art as in nature and in morals ; but it is possible to approach the brink without falling over. Within these limits then let lyric art have free play for all the poetry of its gay inventiveness ; for, so long as the freshness of wit and whim breaks out in genial happiness from the human heart, it would be but morbid temper and sour criticism to mar the passing joy. Let the world be free and happy ; only, when it plays with art, let it play within the bounds of natural enthusiasm and self- respect. Transgress that limit, and all beyond it is but a wilderness of offensive, unreal, untrue, and vulgar vanity. But it needs no wandering into the byways of the arts to afford brightness to common life. In the busy struggle of our English life it has been a blessing to have found such resource of real pleasure and benefit to our people as the arts afford. Even if our experience or witness of actual life be 28 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY insufficient, it needs but little stretch of imagination to picture to ourselves realities which, in every class of our social state, are hidden from the outside world by the tender care, the refinement, the self-sacrifice of those who labour on, though irksomely, for others from whom, through age and trouble, all hope and resource has been cut off. Many are they, to whom Nature has denied strength for severer work, who thus occupy themselves in the simpler spheres of art persons of whom the world might well be proud if it did but know them : angelic lives in dreary homes ; a living smile where all else is sad. But art's highest sphere is one of intellectual interest and attainment, apart from all private or individual value the sphere of national service, by which the cultivation of a whole people is affected ; and, whether observed or unobserved by themselves, their interests and pursuits, their labour and their recreation are supplied and enlightened by it. But we have a very mixed multitude to deal with. There are classes among our fellow-men over whom shadows seem to have settled impenetrably, and the dulness of their dreary homes has driven them to drown their weariness in vice. It would be a worthy work to open the eyes of such as they are to their own relief, and to show them how close it is within their reach. We believe that by the narrow wedge of counter- attractions we may introduce elements of interest and occupation that will raise the tone and purify the motives and habits of our people, and shaming them away from evil, may induce some brighter thought and hopefulness of life to disperse its shadows. I passed two cottages, and, by the aspect of their windows side by side, the thought was forced on me how strong must be the contrast in character and life of those within them. One window was bright with its TO COMMON LIFE 29 pots of simple flowers, and, like the door beside it, it was shaded by wreaths of clustering rose and honey- suckle. The other was broken, dirty, and neglected, with a tattered rag hung up within to hide all behind it. I ventured to enter them. One family met me with a smile, the other with a frown. Not long after I learnt that a child from that forlorn abode brought home a simple prize from school ; it was a coloured print. Her mother pinned it to the dirty wall, and the cobwebs were brushed away. Its bright colours and clean border seemed a pleasure, and made the disorder and raggedness around it painful. The child had felt the happiness of encouragement. Next year another bright-looking prize was added to the stock. Some pride then touched the heart of the family. Those small treasures became precious to them as things of beauty. Insensibly other little ornaments accumulated, and the other walls were cleaned to receive them. The seed was sown, and the infection spread. After a while the whole cottage became orderly as it never used to be. The garden, once but a wilderness, was tended, and flowers were in the windows, and, as time wore on, a bright and cheery gleam seemed to shine where all before had been sad and shadowy. Another year I passed those cottages again, no more contrasted as in former days ; both bright and clean and cheery ; and, entering them, I was met with frowns no more. It was no development of artistic sense in that family that turned their wretched home into a com- parative paradise. It was the gradual influence of educating beauty falling on ground capable of receiving it ; and that influence, the educating influence of experi- ence, must be the basis of all that we can hope to do, to undermine the degradation and disgrace around us, and by the narrow edge of better things to introduce with patience the materials of a higher and a happier life. 30 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY Of all the vices which pollute the source and thwart the progress of fine art, the striving after novelty is among the worst. No one versed in his art could be guilty of it. But it is no uncommon thing to hear complaints of the trammels of old principles ; and arguments are warm and numerous that it is but a miserable slavery to be tied down to follow in the steps of generations whom we have altogether surpassed in civilisation and intelligence ; that our ideas and habits of life are different ; that we are capable of striking out new principles ; and that art, like other things, must be changed to meet them. They say that people are wearied with the everlasting sameness, that art used on its old system is used up ; but that it is infinite in its capabilities, that a new standpoint is possible, and then, all trammels being removed, fresh ideas, fresh principles, fresh effects would rise fresh, beautiful, and complete as Minerva from the head of Jove, or Aphro- dite from the foam of the sea. But, in truth, art is no more than the representative of human thoughts and feelings, and it is they that must first be changed. Originality is a precious, but a perilous talent, with a good and a bad side to it, like many other worse and better things, the best being that which is ignorant of its own existence. Original ideas are not got by looking for them. The most true and precious originality is that which venerates the humanity from which it sprang, and loves the old things and ways that generations of human hearts and poetry have consecrated, and then, with warmth and brilliancy all its own, breaks forth with beauty born afresh, and age transformed into the bloom of youth. But it needs the touch of supreme refinement to play with novelty. All that we poor mortals can do by mental labour is but little otherwise than that which is the sum total of the labour of our hands the moving TO COMMON LIFE 31 of old things into new places. The course of human genius is like that of a river ; at one time sleeping in the quietude of deep pools, losing all identity with the running stream, and reflecting all things from its lucid surface ; at another time impulsive, rapid, and irresistible. Originality may turn the old river into a new channel, but it is only the channel that is new. The genius most precious to mankind is continuous : if not in itself, at least in the vitality it imparts to others, as trees which seed themselves and yet are always different. Originality that is sudden and spasmodic fascinates, but is of little use. Our poet -artist Blake was the master of it. He wrote and drew with marvellous genius, but I doubt whether any one has or would care to follow in his steps. Nature allows no break. The river's meandering course is the solution of all our riddle ; and though enthusiasm may disturb, and aspiring youth may fret, Nature, whether that around us or that within us, will ever guide the ceaseless stream. If any nation ever had to begin its arts again, it was England nearly a century ago. A few great names, like Wren and Inigo Jones, Hogarth, Reynolds, Gains- borough, Flaxman, Wedgewood, and some others, seemed to stand out like tops of mountains above the mist. Such names cast a halo of glory on their age, but the public was but half alive to it. If, a few hundred years ago, the fanatics and panoclasts of the coun- try had been instructed to smash everything that was hideous, instead of destroying everything refined and beautiful that the care and intellect of ages had produced, we should still have in England models of national arts to our incalculable advantage. In spite of that, however, art began again in earnest ; but with it sprang up a new difficulty, not by the want but by the plethora of models, making the education of public taste all but hopeless. The confusion of all the styles 32 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY of art of the habitable world, ancient and modern, was cast before it like a flood, and public taste broke down, like an overworked linguist, under the multitude of his languages, jumbling his words and idioms into nonsense. But experience will cure all this. The poetry of art is no mere transient sentiment, except to minds incapable of no more ; nor is the artist's study of sounds, forms, and colours mere super- ficial dealing with Nature's accidents. They are to him realities for which he acknowledges responsibility. For the purpose of his art, and of all that is to result from it, he cannot know too much nor feel too deeply ; for feeling without knowledge can produce no science, and knowledge without feeling can produce no art. With him the real and the ideal are in close contact. His work is to make ideal things realities and realities ideal. There is a perpetual movement within his mind between the material and spiritual world. Sounds, forms, and colours are not things the musician, the sculptor, or the painter cares to rest on but for the expression of his thoughts. The poet, the musician, the artist are all one in relation to the world of things and of their fellow-men. The whole realm of nature is theirs but not for themselves. It is a large patri- mony to -inherit ; and it is the free possession of all who have sense and power to perceive and appreciate it a noble inheritance, without dispute of title, equally for the humble and the noble, the rich and the poor ; the home of that beneficent power that ministers to the happiness of their life. Nature has been art's nursery, art's school, art's workshop, art's council chamber. In- firmity may dull its sight and bar its upward course, but the goal to which Nature points its way is a lofty one a pure ideal where the human and divine life meet. The perception of beauty is one of the most pre- TO COMMON LIFE 33 cious endowments with which God has blessed humanity. The wise and benevolent do well to foster it in their fellow-men ; and we do well to bless God for the inestimable gift, so far as we possess it ourselves, accepting the ministry of art as the surest means for its cultivation to enlighten and refresh the world, and accepting, in relation to it, the fundamental testimony of Nature, that God has spread man's path with beauty because He has consigned his life to work. D ESSAY III THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART TO SPIRITUAL LIFE F all the services that Fine Art has rendered to man- kind the most valuable is that by which it has evoked and cultivated the spirit-born faculty of the im- agination. It has done so by the power of that element in Nature that we know as beauty, an element that per- vades the universe, exhibiting itself both morally and materially, not merely in the outward guise of things, but in the whole order of their being. Beauty is a reality most evident and most mysterious, of which science may explain the intermediary action, but can- not touch either its beginning or its end ; but which the human soul, looking both farther back and farther for- ward, perceives as an element of divine life, and through it is conscious of the silent witness of Himself, by the Creator, to the spiritual comprehension of His creatures. But as Nature is art's prototype and the source from which all external effects of beauty are derived, one might have inclined to attribute to it all the power requisite for this beneficent influence ; but it is not so. The effects of external Nature upon many minds is too direct; they receive from them no more than im- mediate and ordinary impressions ; and in many cases the circumstances of life and their own dispositions disqualify them for any refined perception. Nature may seem beautiful to them and pleasant, but only ESSAY in THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART 35 so as an affair of daily occurrence, and too familiar to arouse any special feeling. It is possible on the con- trary for the effect of art upon such minds to be very different, for art is Nature with humanity superadded, and thus bringing with it the human idea of Nature's beauty, it helps them by the power of an unconscious sympathy to perceive what otherwise would have passed unheeded. But like many other things fine art is a power for evil as well as good, and its attractiveness makes that power great. For evil, we find it in works of vanity and vice ; for good, we see it in the fire which shines from beneath the surface of good men's works. Will and genius are the sources of its power, and thus a work of marble or of colours becomes a thing of pur- pose and of life ; and a more true and clear exponent than language of men's nature and men's thoughts, for language may hide and pervert truth, but art would convict itself of the lie it would try to tell. The impulse of art comes the artist knows not whence. An irresistible and untraceable ideal haunts him ; its imagery falls on him like a reflection from another state of being ; the mystery of it engages him, the beauty of it fascinates him ; its power in- creases in his search to realise it ; his heart and mind are oppressed at the sense of it, and the expression of it by his art alone affords the means of their relief. A work of art comes forth because it must. The first rude sculptor may well have started back, agitated before the embodiment of his soul's concep- tion. Whence that conception ? Forms of an unsought imagery had passed before him. The breath of a strange influence had impinged upon his thought as mysteriously as the light air wafts across his forehead. Whence came it and whither it went he knew not ; but now it stands before him a reality, startling in its 36 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY reality, an embodied shadow, an emanation from his own life, a film of thought that had flashed out from the unknown, and was the next moment lost, like a fragrance from the earth or the gloss upon the dew, but caught up, recovered, reproduced by his rude skill. Whence was the birth of that first image ? Was it in an agony of grief or terror, or throb of conscience, or in emotion aroused by the sublime effects of Nature's awful grandeur, that an ideal of unearthly majesty had struck and stamped itself on his imagination ? He looked blindly into infinity, conscious of a light he could not see, and the reality of the unseen had forced upon him the idea of Deity. He felt the divine ele- ment in life, he felt the divine life in things, he fashioned the symbols of them, he realised their forms, his own impassioned life transfused them, and the people called them Gods. As with that primitive sculptor, so art, in all time, has been and is the creature and the producer of emotion ; and most natural therefore is it that the subject which produces the deepest emotions produces the greatest art. The impulses of poetry, simplest or most sublime, and the emotions of religion are its congenial elements. Its strength is in their strength. The eloquence of literature and of speech may have more power to repel, but attraction is art's own prerogative. Wickedness and horror may be pictured in vain, but by appeals to the heart and conscience through what is lovely, pure, and true, it wins every cause it pleads. Illustrations of agony, vice, and shame are themselves as repulsive as the evils they wish to cure. It is hard to believe that Hogarth's pictures of the Rake's progress ever stopped the course of vice, or that Morland's illustrations of the fall and ruin of Letitia ever stayed the folly of a frivolous girl. But there can be no doubt of art's power to clench a conviction once received, from whatever source in TO SPIRITUAL LIFE 37 derived, or to add force equally to superstition or to truth ; for the arts of all times have illustrated this, from the idol and fetich of the savage, which was but the embodiment of the demon of his dread, to the per- fected arts of both Pagan and Christian civilisation. The embodiment of the religious ideal, and deeper far than that, the Impersonation of that ideal, has been, through all ages, a longing desire of mankind, approach- ing a necessity. The irresistible conviction of spiritual existence, the idea of the power and beauty of invisible things, has so possessed the minds and imaginations of men, that the whole material universe has been peopled with them, from the gods and goddesses who reigned in the starry heavens, to those bright and graceful beings with which mythology has filled the woods and foun- tains, the rocks, the ocean, and the very air itself. Im- personation of deity in human form was the highest ideal on which the Pagan arts had been perfected. Those arts had swayed the emotions of men ; but yet, with all their beauty and with all their power, an im- penetrable shadow hung over them. There was a sad- ness in their joy ; satisfaction was incomplete. The impersonation was inanimate. The story of Pygmalion was but the common dream of men ; they felt after divine life, and longed for it with a certainty of its reality and truth of which their unaided senses were incapable. Human sense had vainly grasped at what the human spirit had yearned to see ; but only the material of an inanimate symbol was all that art could give in reply. Neither intellect nor sense were satis- fied. The heart, the mainspring of humanity, was not relieved. A great ideal in philosophy, in literature, and in art had for ages occupied the mind and imagi- nation of mankind. But whence its power if it were but a thing of fancy or a dream ? The whole fabric of it would have long since perished but for the uncon- 38 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY querable conviction of its inward truth. That convic- tion was the forecast of a great reality. From remotest antiquity all art had strained its eyes to that subject of mankind's unconscious prophecy. The loftiest music of all poetry had raised its voice to it. What the hearts of all nations had longed for was the Impersonation of Life ; and at length, and in the fulness of time, that Life was manifested ; that Life was the light of men, and the heart of humanity was satisfied. The Christian artist is like the sower who went forth to sow : and art is truly a divine seed, whose fruit is for the sweetness of man's life, and with it he need not sow in tears to reap in joy. Art has many func- tions in the world, for use, for livelihood, for enlighten- ment, for honour ; but the artist's highest commission is to teach the world, through the evidence of the uni- verse, in the mystery of beauty, the provision of the Creator for the happiness of His creatures. The divine attributes of power and infinity might overwhelm the world with fear, but the attribute of love reassures it. Beauty is the symbol of divine love. Reason cannot de- fine nor imagination fathom it ; and he that bears the commission of that message can do no more than, by the simple eloquence of truth, to win the sympathies of men, and to train them, as he has trained himself, to see in the lineaments of beauty not the mere fancy of a fascinated sense, but a power overlying, underlying, per- vading all things the mystery of Beauty ; not a mere quality of material, but an element of life ; not a mere accident in Nature, but a designed purpose of its existence. But if the hand of its Creator is to be sought in Nature, it must be upward and not downward. The destructive process of analysis would only dig deeper the grave of spiritual sense, if conviction were sought among the scientific tests of material evidence. There in TO SPIRITUAL LIFE 39 is evidence most rich and precious in such phenomenal analysis ; but the perception of the truth to which it witnesses varies according to the animus with which it is approached. To seek God in Nature, and to test His dealings with men as though He were a force, a quality, a machine, a thing obedient to the search or subject to speculation, which if wrong would fail, but if right would " find out God," would be to reverse the order of existence, and to make man, not God, the master. Nor can intellectual analysis by the tests of philo- sophy succeed any better, for the same reason. The Master must be first acknowledged before he is sought. It is their Master and not man that must bow the heavens if He is to come down. So the search by hard reasoning stultifies itself, because on these most certain grounds it is unreasonable. The gist of the whole matter had been misconceived, and the scaling ladder had been placed on a wrong foundation, and against a wall where nothing was to be gained. But another mode of approach is possible, where reason would be right ; for, on the ground of mere consistency, if spiritual Being is the object of inquiry, the evidence must be spiritual, no matter through what means it is conveyed, and its discernment must be spiritual also ; and reason directed thus upward, and not downward, would then reach "the mind of God." So too Nature, the out- come of its Maker's inscrutable intentions, is incompre- hensible unless similarly approached. The discoveries of science in material and life surpass all art and poetry in the sublimity of that view of Nature's per- fect cosmos which they spread before the imagination. Whether they be her recorded facts, or theories so firmly based as to be accepted certainties, the revelations of science are precious stepping-stones, capable of lead- ing to invaluable evidence ; but, again, it is the animus 40 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY that takes those steps that leads either to light or dark- ness, if the attempt be to elucidate the ideal of what Nature is. With such purpose in view, to study Nature's things without reference to that Master power whose will they unconsciously represent, would be to deviate at its very source the stream of all intelligence and response, to pervert and to befool the highest faculties of humanity, which have no worth in themselves nor meaning beyond themselves, except in relation to Him whose purposes, known or unknown, are the causes of their existence, and the only assignable reason of their being. The illimitable conceptions of which mind is capable are themselves a sufficient evidence that, in the sphere of human existence, material is but the method, not the end of life ; and that steps of progress, if there be steps at all, must be steps trodden on sense for the very pur- pose of reaching things beyond sense. The beauty of the universe, which comes of the union of material and life, tells with irresistible evidence of an authorship and a rule of supreme Will ; and that is a power inconceiv- able unless associated with personality of individual being. The unity of Nature implies the unity of that Will ; but such supremacy as this surpasses govern- ment, for government is not an originating authority, but an intermediary power to continue order initiated by another, and therefore only sharing a divided allegi- ance. A supremacy compatible with perfection must therefore reach from beginning to end, and origin and destiny, no less than present rule, must be among its prerogatives. But the upward steps which lead to such conviction as this do not stop here. We find here not only the action of one supreme and undivided Will, without which cosmos would be chaos, but beyond this the con- sideration of its perfect work forces upon our conviction in TO SPIRITUAL LIFE 41 the complex character of that Will a triple power, the power of initiative authority the power of intermediary intelligence and contact between the formative com- mand and the obedient material and the power of administrative life, to which mind owes illumination, the forces of Nature their continuance, and the equili- brium of all things its stability. By such alone, whether creation be by immediate act or by endow- ment expanding itself to perfection through eternity, it matters not, for human mind can fathom neither but by such alone and at once the very existence of the universe appears possible, and its beauty compre- hensible. The impulse of a spiritual ideal has ever been an agitating power within the human heart ; but religion, which is its practical expression, has been too often and wilfully misconceived and mistaught, as though its origin had been in the consciousness of human weak- ness overwhelmed in contrast with Nature's power and immensity. But superstition is not religion, and devo- tion is incompatible with terror. The intuitive con- science of each individual, perceptive of its own posi- tion in the world, conscious, from the very nature of things, that the anomalies which surround it are but transitory material combined with spirit, good and evil side by side takes the order of beauty in the uni- verse as its guiding light, and is conscious of the response of Nature's life to its own unutterable appeals. Thus is it that, pining for expression, the artist takes the things, the forms, the beings that surround him as the only available interpreters of his thought, the light and darkness, life and death, storm and calm, growth and decay, equal in their awfulness and in their beauty, and with them as the symbolic language of his convic- tion, his worship, and his love, he pours out his soul to God and man. 42 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY To such an one, the tenor of whose study for his art, among the things and effects of the world around him, has led him to regard beauty as but a veil separat- ing the seen from the unseen of Nature, and through it to watch that great Master-spirit of life that moves among its vast machinery, it is as painful as it is strange to witness the course of other minds, profoundly trained in the knowledge of the same material universe, and of the relationship their own intelligence bears towards it, arriving by various paths of study to the same place as himself, but then to stop, refusing to go on. Whether it be from invincible aversion, or from the pride of am- bitious intellect, mistaking its freedom for independence, their result is the opposite of his own. They appear to have placed intentionally a bar to all progress beyond their own special sphere of thought or knowledge, as though there were but one basis for reasonable intelli- gence, and but one approach to sure convictions. The disposition and habits to which their minds are trained are contrary to such considerations ; for having elimi- nated from Nature its Creator and man's intelligent soul, as having no part in it, and content to register the appearances and to calculate the latent forces of Nature, but disregarding that latent Life which is the secret of them all, the direct and mechanical conclusions from material appear to them alone consistent with right reason, and all else no better than delusion. The sub- jects of their studies are, indeed, of inexhaustible inte- rest, and the value of them inestimable to all mankind ; but their pursuit appears at fault when the means, which seemed to minister to strength and breadth of intellect, end only in binding round it the bands of an exclusive system intolerant of all others beside or beyond it. The ultimate goal to which such subjects of con- templation and study appear to other minds, that take in TO SPIRITUAL LIFE 43 a larger range, less barred by speciality than theirs, naturally to lead, is the great truth which alone is of paramount interest to mankind, his destiny ; but to such as refuse to look beyond the realm of sense, and cannot because they will not see, the result has too often been to habituate the mind to a strict and stern correctness in one direction alone ; so the mental vision becomes warped and clouded to all else, and at last distorted to believe that nought else was possible. Intellect was glorified, but the soul ignored. There is, however, another sphere of life and sight to which their eyes are never raised ; and there is another atmosphere than that which impinges on the material to which they cling, the atmosphere of a liberty that is none the less complete because it acknowledges the service of a Master for that service is one that saves a man from himself, and is his only perfect freedom. To reach such healthy breadth of view, and to estimate aright, in their worth and relationship, the spirit of the man within him and of the material around him, the great machinery of his intelligence needs the mutuality of all its faculties as completely as those of the body are needed for the healthy action of its life. No mental function can arrogate its own independence and sufficiency without a fall. Conscience uninformed and undisciplined grows morbid and oblique; imagina- tion may soar superior to the other faculties, but grows vain and bewildered without the weight and balance of the rest ; so too reason and sense cannot stand alone without loss : unaided, they would make but a crippled machine to trust the course of life to, without conscience to restrain and imagination to liberate them. The work of imagination, too subtle for verbal definition, too vast and varied for mental grasp, thus disciplined, supported, and supplied, is, both in purpose and effect, 44 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY essentially and practically real ; it is the source of invention in active life, of relief and exhilaration in wearied life, and the aid upward from baser to better life in whatever form it be regarded. Its work is no vague dream. The powers and beauty of the external world give form and fashion to it, whether in the realm of moral or material ; to its authorship are due man- kind's most imperishable monuments ; but the prompt- ings to which its own vitality responds (for all subjects take their colour from men's minds) come from the deep things of Nature, and those are no other than "the deep things of God." It is the mirror into which beauty is reflected, to be presented to the vision of the soul. It is the faculty through which the fine arts those faithful intermediaries of all human sympathy minister to spiritual life. When not marred and darkened by an evil will, it is a divinely-constituted means of spiritual intelligence, illuminating mortal sense from the fountain of immortality. It is a creative power within that gives form to spirit, substance to faith, and reality to the unseen. Without it how desolate the wilderness, how deep the darkness through which the spiritual vision strains toward the light that gleams above the horizon of mortal sense ; but with unflinching gaze it follows upward to its source the ray that issues from the Light that lightens light itself. Imagination is that great faculty by which the soul ascends to the contemplation of the Divine nature, and listens to that Voice that is in the stillness of the universe. Without it that precious spark would die, which, among the paradox and mystery of existence, like a shining star, makes clear the pathway from the life we know to the life we are conscious of, but know not ; supporting the timid soul by that certainty of its divine relationship which raises it for ever. The immortal soul is self-conscious. It is conscious in TO SPIRITUAL LIFE 45 too of universal life, and of its own place in it. In- fidelity has offered to it the gospel of Death, and it has refused it. It is satisfied with the knowledge of the fact of mystery, as that without which eternity would be an idle void. It listens to the echoes of a distant past. It has never let go the hand of God. It sees and hears His guiding spirit in the trial sphere of human life. It knows His footsteps ; it sees His light; it traces Him in the excellence and beauty of the universe, for all Nature is His parable. But the influence of fine art upon thought and life, both in those who produce and in those who receive it, depends upon the tenor of individual disposition and capacity ; for some minds turn all poetry to prose, and some invest the simplest things with the halo of their own brightness ; and thus it happens that the appeals of beauty through the forms of art too often fail. Its elements are insoluble in some minds ; and, as the course of life is often rough, and the ways of it not ways of pleasantness, but of infirmity and depression, it too often happens that, amid the absorbing neces- sities which harden practical life, fine art is valued by the multitude rather for its furniture than its poetry. Regard for one moment the effect of a great picture and sculpture gallery upon the mass of the spectators. What do they find ? a vast array of pictures and statues, portraits and landscapes of all nationalities ; here and there a scenic representation of a religious subject from one school, or an academic composition from another ; then, more rarely indeed, a gem of devotional expres- sion ; the rest are portraits, boats, or battles, or domestic scenes most picturesque, or of vice and revelry most offensive ; and the sight-seers disperse, some perhaps delighted with their entertainment and exhilarated by its brightness, and some perhaps utterly confounded by 46 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY its multiplicity. But pause one moment. There were some who lingered there and went away thoughtfully, for there were those among that multitude men, women, and children too on whom some lovely ray of thought had struck. The poetry of colour, the mystic charm of Nature's truth and beauty, or the aspirations of devotional expression, still breathing from the surface of some old canvas as the poor artist had left it, with his last sigh, a legacy for the world, had found their kindred spirits, and had struck home at last. Those were the souls that Nature had already tuned, and the old artist's poetry had struck them and brought out their music. But the source of the inspiration of art's poetry, that comes as a breath we know not whence, must be sought far deeper than in the emotion of the passing moment. The power whence springs that impulse, whose ultimate result is art, must not be measured by the means of its expression. The urgent motive, the rapid search, the restless spirit battling against the bondage of material all witness to a living power impatient of control. That impulse is indeed vivid, vigorous, irresistible, as those who have felt it know right well, as though mastered by some mighty will, or urged forward by some great unseen hand ; but whence comes our power to respond to it ? Whence in our nature does that throb of sympathy arise that answers to the call of the spirit of beauty and truth ? That power is ours, but it comes of too long an ancestry to be traceable only among the surroundings of present life. But are we left to that alone ? Are love, thought, and memory bounded by its limits ? Have hope and terror no history beyond the annals of humanity ? Has the majesty of philo- sophy, the pride of knowledge, the reign of sense, ever satisfied mankind ? What is the secret of that power that holds the in TO SPIRITUAL LIFE 47 mind enthralled as the after-glow of sunset fills the eyes ? Whence comes that sense of rest and yet of longing, lingering desire as the sight loses itself in that ocean of light ? Why no sense of solitude in those awful depths ; no fear, but only joy in that sublime infinitude ? Why ? but for the conscious presence of more there than sight perceives. That glorious sheen of light and colour is but the clothing of a sphere of life into which we pierce and find no strangeness in it. Its fascination is not that of novelty, but of reminis- cence. We are no more alone : a sense of relationship to all that sphere contains invites onward, as to a home once known and long since left, but not forgotten another but a true sphere of life a spiritual scenery reflected from heaven's mirror. Thus does sublimity of external effect, which only art's deepest poetry can recall, stir in the affections of the human breast the echoes of life beyond the horizon of our sight a life not lost, but, like the sunset, sunk beneath the shadows of a distant past, shrouded from sight and interrupted for a while, as though to test fidelity a life once ours, ours still, and ours for ever: no dream, but the con- scious reality of the silent soul. The spirit of beauty, whether enshrined in material or moral form, the beauty of strength or weakness, the beauty of reality or idea, all come from the same source whence our own nature itself has come, and has been endowed with power to feel and to comprehend it. That spirit of beauty, like the Spirit of the Eternal Being, of whose presence and character beauty is itself both the evidence and the purest symbol, is appre- hended not by the scrutiny of the intellect but by the affections of the heart ; and fine art, profoundly more a thing of spirit than of sense, is the minister . commissioned to interpret its lovely parables to the world. 48 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY There is an Oriental adage that " Beauty is in the eye of him who sees it " an expression most true, indeed, if by it is understood that power of mental sight beyond mere physical sense ; for then the inde- pendence of the spirit of beauty is rightly apprehended as an element as subtle as life itself, an element of ex- traneous existence by which, through sense, the mental faculty is impressed ; but it is most untrue if by that saying it be implied that the perception of beauty is but a whim or waif of poetic fancy, self-deceptive, applying a bright quality of itself to the things it calls beautiful ; as though the emotions of the imagination were created by a power which it had first created itself! No ; beauty, like the spirit of life, in its own nature infinite and independent, such as no time nor place can bound, no thought can grasp, nor words define, is the subtlest witness that the universe affords of the nature of spiritual life. It is as a bridge connecting two worlds : on one side leading to infinitude of all perfec- tion, on the other, attached to material, not as though belonging to it, nor bounded by it, but transcending every quality it possesses, investing them with its own excellence, and overflowing them with its illimitable, irrestrainable stream of life. What is there in inert material, unfathomable mystery though it be, that can touch the spiritual element of mind and emotion ? What sympathy can there be between what is lifeless, unstable, corruptible, and spirit that thing of immor- tality ? Surely none ; but the spirit of beauty can and does transfuse material, and does animate the en- dowments of bodily sense with power to penetrate the thin shadow that separates those two worlds, and opens to the prisoned spirit of the man an access, clear and unrestrained, to the free air of the world invisible to him. in TO SPIRITUAL LIFE 49 To such an one, whether practically an artist or not, but at least contemplatively one, whose powers of natural insight have been cultivated and refined by all that it is Art's sacred mission to teach to such an one Nature has opened wide her treasury of divine life. She has spread before the eyes of his responsive spirit, in a vista of infinity, the mystery of divine beauty. Unsolved, unsolvable ! He gazes with adoration ; the highest faculties of his nature, of body, soul, and spirit, in silence bow before it. Sense perceives, imagination portrays, reason accepts, con- science assures, with all the power of their blended testimony, that that inscrutable mystery of beauty is the mode in which it has pleased the blessed God to communicate to His creatures the perfection of His wisdom and His love. The sublime vision is beyond the range of mortal sight ; the moral sense, that voice of the soul within, has answered " Yes " ; and then the heart turns to its course in human life, the sphere of a short pil- grimage, fortified and content. The convictions which thought, study, and the experience of life had heaped together stored, sorted, purified in the great labora- tory of memory have been illuminated by a ray from the throne of immortality. Fear vanishes. Difficulties which tempt, infirmities which impede, are but the discipline of an existence conscious of its own transi- tory nature. The way of life lies out before. The light of divine beauty has been shed upon it : and thus along the pathway of this mortal life, whether it be earthward or heavenward, the footsteps of the travellers are made light and their hearts rejoiced with the blessings of assurance and of peace. Such is the lovely message that Fine Art is com- missioned to carry to the world ; and such is its work, to minister to the spiritual life of those who seek it. E THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY III The origin and consummation of beauty is in that love which God has said He " is." The com- munication of it is the expression of the Will of that love ; and happy they who have their hearts pure and their intelligence of sense and spirit bright, to per- ceive, beneath the outward show of things, the living Majesty of that Wisdom, Power, and Love Divine, whence PERFECT BEAUTY, the fountain of all joy, flows forth for ever. ESSAY IV FINE ART IN ARCHAEOLOGY *T^HE arts in archaeology are like the sounds of many voices coming from a distance, arresting our attention by their mystery of mingled clearness and uncertainty, and fascinating us more and more with all the charm of poetry's vague suggestiveness, as they die away upon the distant air. Such opportunities of mental travelling as their pursuit affords over the wide and varied area of past time is the romance of reality, and its intellectual locomotion is as invigorating to the spirit as change of air and scene is to the body. It is a kind of journeying free from all but pleasurable fatigue, so varied as to dismiss all weariness ; or if sometimes the way seems long and the traveller's steps begin to flag, new interests break out where least anticipated, with all their cordial of new hope and enterprise, as refreshing to heart and sense as the oases and springs of the desert. What can exceed the interest of that retrospect that spreads before the imagination the light of dawning intellectual life, of which the relics of earliest art are the few remaining testimonies ? But now even they appear strange in age and origin, and the tale they tell seems so lost among the world's morning mists, that all we know of most of them is but the literary notice of some venerable author who handed on from an unre- 52 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY corded source a tradition that had interested him, and left for us no more than the whispering myth of a reality of which only the silhouette remains. Thus is the intensity of interest redoubled as we, who are antiquaries now, regard the works and records of anti- quaries of a long past age, who themselves have plunged into the depths of the age before them. Such was Solon, and such his feeling when, having vaunted the glories and antiquity of his own nation, he sat wrapped in astonished interest as the Egyptian priest, smiling at his small notions of antiquity, recorded to him the origin of his own and other peoples from the great island continent, then long since no more, that once had all but filled the ocean space beyond the pillars of Hercules that wondrous land, the great Atlantis, with its sheltering Alps and fertile plains, rich mines and crowded cities, inhabited by tribes now only dimly known as the Oceanides, the Atlantides, and the Hesperides, a real but now a mythic people, whose story lives only in the romance of unwritten history. If archaeology involved no more than a study of things^ old things, it would still find favour with many minds ; but as the study of old things implies also the study of all that throws light upon them, such as what a scientific man would call their environments, and a poet their associations, the boundaries of archaeology become exceedingly wide, and its actual limits hard to define. In it the studies of the scholar, the philosopher, the poet, and the historian find full scope. Its wide range of interest, its scattered facts, its vague suggestive thoughts, tell how great the need its student has of quietude, time, and care, to brings its elements into focus, and to frame for the profit and pleasure of the world the varied pictures it presents. But time is the trouble of our age, and impatience its characteristic ; so the genius of movement in this busy world is apt to iv FINE ART IN ARCHEOLOGY 53 regard the antiquary as a sort of living curiosity. It looks on him as a creature infected with mould and rust, and has no idea of the enthusiasm which lies beneath his quiet skin. Happily for human nature, enthusiasm is of many kinds, and is often the shallowest where it is most demonstrative. The fact is that the world knows very little of its component parts, and little does it reflect on the words of the poet who spoke of men's " hermit souls " ; but those words would go to the very heart of an antiquary, and express to him his very self; picturing to him the quiet depth of that stream of gentle but invincible enthusiasm which buoys him up and carries him through his work, brightening the spirit of his enterprise, and rilling the mirror of his contemplation with ideas. I am not confounding per- severance with enthusiasm. An antiquary's work is hard, and there is no doubt of his perseverance if he be worth his rust. It might at first blush be hard to believe in the enthusiasm of writing a dictionary, or of collating dates, or of classifying musty deeds or rusty coins ; but granting its indomitable perseverance, and granting, too, the dry, mechanical labour it involves, I believe that, without that quality of a deep and quiet enthusiasm which is the very life of all good continuous work, the spirit of the archaeologist, whether he be historian, philosopher, poet, or antiquary, would sink beneath its work, and his " hermit soul " would die. The association of fine arts with archaeology, and the part they play in it, will be measured by the know- ledge that people have of them, and be valued according to the tone and tenor of their many-sided minds. The thorough antiquary should be at once a historian and an artist. Art and history must go side by side in archaeology to supply and illustrate each other, for what is history without poetry, and what is art without fact ? History is the typal picture of men and things 54 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY in all time ; and art is that power over material by which men in all ages have rejoiced in setting forth to others their deepest thoughts. Thus art and history are bound together, and poetry and philosophy belong to both ; for philosophy is the moral of history, and poetry is that plastic power of illustration which gives life and action to it all. What is it that fills the history of ancient art with all its vivid interest, and what is it that endows that art itself with all its captivating charm, but that it embodies the very soul of mankind ? Facts and feelings are equally precious in any just and true estimate of human life ; for feeling is, in truth, a great result, the end of a complicated tissue of sympathies and antipathies that may for the moment be taken as a point of rest. But life cannot rest, and the more intense its power to feel, the more impossible to rest. It may be stayed for a while in contemplation ; it may ponder and linger captivated or overwhelmed : but the fire that smoulders will break out at last ; and the result, in a burst of eloquence, poetry, or art, is the relief of the over-burdened mind. To such an origin as this it is that we owe the birth, the growth, and the perfection of ancient art, with all its power to fascinate, to command, and to draw together the whole brotherhood of humanity. It is the design and intention, the warmth and passion of the living man, that glows in that ancient art, that makes it precious to us through all time. The intellect alone may be as cold as the moon and live, but art must have sun in it or die. But the broad brotherhood of archaeologists must not be expected to appreciate art alike. Their unani- mous verdict would probably go at least as far as this, that its pursuit was interesting and pleasurable; but only those who could interpret its forms and features iv FINE ART IN ARCHEOLOGY 55 into a living language could feel the sacred fire. But if the poetry and symbolism of perfect art is ill under- stood by some, the rudeness of primitive art, and that of half civilised nations, is even less so. But, in truth, rough work is often the most expressive, like a bold sketch dashed off under strong impulse. So with primitive art ; its very roughness and impracticability are often the true signs of an impulse and an idea too big for the untrained mind to grasp, or the hand to form. The form of beauty or of power that the mind of such a man could grasp was one of hard severity, like his life. The angular boldness of its extreme simplicity was the very type of that life which gave it all its interest. It is folly to despise archaic art for want of beauty. It is better far to allow the weakness of the artist, and through his rude lines to love the man, and honour the grandeur of his emotions. There is more vigour of life and heroic grandeur in the bold action of the sculptures of Nineveh than in half the modern art we see, with all its perfection of anatomy and analysis of expression. There is often more touch of nature and intensity of feeling in the architecture and painting of our own middle ages than in many a modern work the world admires. It is folly to talk of their faults of technicality and want of precision, which are evident to all. For what is it that makes all ancient art precious but its testimony to the emotions that impelled it, and of that life, with all its surroundings, its nature, its motives, its joys and pains, that made those emotions possible ? Those works are the precious relics of men and nations ; and cold is the sense and shallow the criticism that fails to trace, through all their faulty forms, the fire of their poetry ; and through the rough hewings of their sculpture and the ideal conventionality of their painting, to reverence the simple grandeur of ancient days. But the unpoetic or scientific archaeologist, for 56 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY whom the sacred fire burns in vain, will hardly care to regard them in this light. He will be contented to allow that the fine arts have always been associated with the highest intelligence and civilisation of their age. His interest in them is rather for the witness they afford than the beauty they produce. He will value their styles as arbiters of chronology. He will trace up their origin to their fountain head in archi- tecture. He will go farther, and trace up architecture itself to the necessities of construction and materials. He may, and probably rightly, attribute our pointed architecture, with all its grace and piquancy, to the inexhaustible genius of Oriental fancy. He may trace the perfect architecture of classic times to its earliest types in the constructive edifices of wood. The very form of the Pyramids suggests to him their origin, long before the earliest dynasty, in the heaps of piled stones which mark the passage or the resting-places of wander- ing tribes, or the monument of prehistoric victories. And further still in the depth of time, Chinese archi- tecture, with its turned-up ridges and quirked gables, seems to him (as they certainly do to me) to find their first forms in the primitive huts and barns of a race living on the wide watery plains of that land of rivers, where the bamboo, reeds, and rushes gave the first materials ready at hand for roof and shelter. Thus will he note the rise and progress of other arts, and trace their development from the ingenuity of human necessity to their employment for the purposes of social life ; but his pleasure in the subject is solely intellectual, and beyond that his sympathies and profit nil. He goes in for knowledge, and the clash of theories and the intellectual pugnacity of schools and scholars only add to the zest and interest of his pursuit. Others there are, true archaeologists indeed, who seem to have reversed the order of life, and to have iv FINE ART IN ARCHAEOLOGY 57 turned the stream of futurity backward ; individuals to whom pursuit means retrogression, and progress is scored only down the pathway of receding ages. Others again there are, as dry as dust, who love, if they love anything, only what they can see and touch of facts and things, antiquaries of the arid type, men of persistency, of large memories and small sympathies, to whom tedium is unknown, imagination a blank, and romance impossible ; most useful men indeed, who repeat, only in reversed order, what their predecessors did, who in old days occupied the dulness of their un- counted hours in drawing up the inventories of house- hold goods, and properties of church or state or private life ; who doted over their dry lists, page after page with " item " this and " ditto " that, as an auctioneer glories over a catalogue, or a miser eyes his jottings of unprofitable coin ; such dry chroniclers little dreaming, in their sleep of time, what mines of interest they were laying up for us, who draw from them pictures as true as though the realities were before us, of the character of those times remote, of the ways of social and domestic life, the pursuits, the habits, and even the moral worth of those who lived in them. The works of art which are the glory of antiquity were accomplished in times when all the world was alert with intrigue or war, or in those short and stirring intervals of peace when warriors devoted their spoils of victory to their country's honour. Those too which adorn the ages nearer to our own, and which now stand up among us as the monuments of peace, the types of the religious spirit that had conceived them and the devotion that had realised them, were no less than their glorious predecessors the accomplishment of nations struggling with moral if not with martial foes, warring with barbarism and fighting for life, amid that movement of events, that gave the motive, the dramatic 58 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY action, the incident, and the very vital spark itself to their unconscious genius. Thus was it that, when all was astir with uncertainty and change, those immortal works of art and poetry were produced which shone like stars in the stormy sky of classic history, and like angels of consolation among the sighs and sorrows of the middle ages. Most true it is that both heart and intellect are fed upon the stores of that continuous stream of life which flowed on from age to age, and has left along its banks the scattered pearls of human genius. Far off in the remote ages of geology we may begin to draw our first glimmerings of human history. Their silent annals present a counterpart to the world of intelligence and life, for deeper and deeper as the shaft is driven, the richer and more inexhaustible are the treasures of re- search ; but the whole value of the past is in the use we make of it, and all our accumulated knowledge, whether of material or mind, is no more than lifeless fact and prosy chronicle till touched by the fire of human sympathy. Treasure is of no profit till it can pass into currency ; and facts accumulated into mount- ains are useless to us until we assimilate them. We need to breathe and live on the fresh free air which blows over the wide field of life and things gone by; not only to fill our minds with knowledge, and store them with the treasures of resource, but also to freshen the motive and brace the heart for good work upon the world, the times, and the men around us. It would be a melancholy system of dry morality, and a cold philosophy indeed that merely filled the mind with matter and ignored the heart and soul of humanity. The value of archaeology, whether for the enlightenment or for the interest of maturer years, lies not in the pedantic knowledge of antiquity, but in the thought-felt, heart-felt realisation of its life. iv FINE ART IN ARCHEOLOGY 59 Art is in its nature pure, vast, heaven-born, and the antiquary who takes the true, noble, and right view of the place and work of it in the world, will find that all the elements of his study in history, philosophy, poetry, and antiquity will concentrate upon it. He then esti- mates it no more as the mere furnisher of the illustra- tions of facts and things, but the embodiment of that life and spirit that make history live. The retrospect of the world's story resembles the picture of individual life except in this, that the world's life is always young ; its infancy veiled in impenetrable mist, its bounding youth an epic of heroism, blotted with fault, but starred with gems of virtue ; its age a struggle of alternating progress and decline, but its life still young, and its winters the balance of a perpetual spring. Things and minds, not life, grow old ; and it is that parallel of decline that gives to antiquity that touch of sadness in the sympathy of thoughts and things, long since passed away for ever, that intensifies its absorbing interest. That touch of nature that makes art so fresh and pure is the link of human brotherhood. In the depth of unrecorded geological age, the cave-man relieving the tedium of his weary life, etching with his flint arrow-point upon bones the forms of animals that peopled his lonely hunting- grounds, was but the elder brother artist, alive to the same charm of natural life, and impelled by the same motive spirit as young Giotto of our own age, as Cima- bue found him drawing upon stones the forms of the sheep he tended upon the Tuscan Apennine. So too the potter of prehistoric days decorated his pottery with spots, lines, and chevrons, at Nature's own suggestion adopting the fundamental principles of repetition, pro- portion, and contrast, by which the most consummate art has ever since been ruled. The unity of mankind is not more plainly shown 60 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY by its anatomy than by its habits and moral, as they are illustrated in the arts of life. It may be that here and there a rude race is found as that of Terra del Fuego, of the Andamans and the Australians descendants of weak families pushed outwards and flying before the vigorous expanse of early migration, as wild animals fly before the advance of men ; and who, isolated uncomputable centuries ago by changes of earth and ocean, themselves originally outcasts, un- intelligent, resourceless, and dispirited, have lost their clue and tradition of community ; and so utterly over- whelmed in the loneliness of nature and their own poverty and distress, that what little good they carried with them has dropped out of memory. But with all others, whether in the happier climes or the most distant refuges of the world, their story, as written in their arts, tells, from remotest ages, the same tale, that as with ourselves, the same aspirations stirred them, the same needs, the same motives, the same energies moulded the habits of their life. It is thus among the associations of life, to which the relics of art are the unfailing witnesses, that archaeology draws the subjects of its deepest interest. Its paths may not be always easy, but the tracks of human feet that have trodden them before, are the secret of that fascination which tempts us onward. Uncertainty increases interest, and a sense of mystery adds zest to the pursuit, as they lead on amidst that silent and shadowy scenery of the past, where time itself is lost in mist and the last fading colours of tradition die away ; but even there, with apparently no more than the materials of antiquity around us, the breath of thought still rests upon their forms, and the deep silence is broken by the whispers of life. Artists engrossed in their work are little aware how often they portray themselves. Their friends and iv FINE ART IN ARCHEOLOGY 61 critics call it mannerism, but the touch of art is deeper and more subtle than the accidents of style. Music, painting, and sculpture lend themselves plastically to individual character, and even the calculated forms of architecture, which seem to allow no place for elasticity, tell the individuality of mind and hand. Thus has art in archaeology spread out in the dim light of centuries a picture within which is concentrated, with truest portraiture, the habits and characters of all ages and generations of mankind ; a picture of the realities and the romance of human history, but pre- eminently a picture of the unbroken affinities of human nature, and the brotherhood of human souls. For if it be that in the records of history we trace the life if in the annals of commerce and of travel we ascertain the habits if in literature we learn the wisdom it is in art that, throughout the ages of the past, we feel the spirit, and we mingle with the hearts of men. ESSAY V THE MINISTRY OF COLOUR TO SCULPTURE AND ARCHITECTURE PART I COLOUR AND SCULPTURE T N Nature, colour serves many purposes ; in Art, its service is to make beautiful things more beautiful: ugly things it cannot serve, but to intensify their ugliness. Nature affords us no reasons for its selection, so we may be tempted to regard its use of colour as arbitrary ; but it can hardly be so, where, as in universal nature, system and reason are supreme. We have no right to affirm natural colour to be arbitrary and without law, any more than the winds. Nature is nowhere lawless. There must be some law in the natural employment of colours. Indeed it may not be a mere childish dream that a deeper law and purpose, than our weak faculties can fathom, may underlie those mechanical relations which we attribute to chemistry and light. The power of colours is a mystery to which something in our in- ward nature responds, a method of expression of which we hardly yet have learnt the alphabet. It is indeed hard to believe that such traits of loveliness as are possessed by the colours of external nature can be mere mute and arbitrary signals without significance. We hear their music, and we are entranced by it, but we cannot tell whence it comes, or whither it goes. A law it must have, but it is one that all the chemistry ESSAY v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 63 and mathematics of our science fail to explain ; and imagination, which goes deeper than them all, to the very depths and springs of our nature, can tell no more than of their mystery and their beauty. Whatever be the law that orders their relation to the things they adorn, it is measurable, if measurable at all, only by special aptitudes of mind and sense ; but even here there is no basis for comprehension, for the perception of colour is so various, that sense dis- agrees about its use ; and minds susceptible of the moral of it, form their estimate according to their own individual intelligence. Where then is the conclusion to be ? That which in its own nature is infinite, which sense cannot exhaust nor mind fathom, which seems to play with all the fickleness of fire, but is subject to laws which rule its apparent license into an exquisite order, we must be content to accept as a wonder and a joy. An artist needs to have a spirit of very subtle penetration to comprehend in one broad grasp the material and moral qualities of the things that Nature has lavished for his use. His main difficulty is in their selection. Such is the infinitude of forms and colours, an infinitude made still more embarrassing by their combination, that only those who know not what there is to know, will plunge into art with reckless haste, as though its heights were to be scaled with ease, or its pathway only strewn with flowers. A student has plenty to learn, but learning in art is not like learning facts and figures that serve to train him for other things, for art is a speciality to be learnt rather by training faculties than by learning rules ; for though there are great principles to be mastered, and great experiences to be gained, there is no hope where the heart does not go before the education. A pupil needs first to make the elements of his art as though they formed part of his very nature, and then at last 64 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY as an artist to use them for his heart's expression. If sculpture be the art of his choice, and he be blessed with a genial spirit that can descend from the upper airs of abstract idea to the sphere of common men, he will inevitably be some day struck with the contrast between the works of his hands and the models from which he had fashioned them. Those works may be beautiful, but they have stopped short and vaunt their superiority in their sublime ideal of abstract form. The idea was fine, but the method of attaining it afforded no reason for stopping where he has stopped. He realised figures of ideal representation a hero, a god- dess, what not ? by idealising the forms of Nature, that is, by modulating those he saw to those conceived in his imagination, till the special figure of his conception was complete. If then Nature be not transgressed by taking such mental liberties with her forms, why should any violence be implied by applying the same liberty to colours ? Thus, at the outset, interesting problems will arrest him, and, among them, few will be more difficult to solve than the relation of forms to colours. They appear to be distinct entities, and to have no necessary relationship, but Nature has made them in- separable, and, when harmonised, they charm our sight and master our moral sense, and come at last to be in the artist's hand a power to arouse every emotion, and excite every passion of our nature. The perception of colour is a speciality. Some people feel colour, some people only see it, or think they do ; but eyes might be equally faithful in them all for the mechanism of sight, but the intelligent percep- tion of colour is a very different matter, and varies in them from a reality to a blank. Colours are the creatures of light, and where light is there are colours. White is beautiful, more by association than in reality. All colours are contained in it, for it is not by their v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 65 annihilation but by their union that they produce white. We associate purity with white : but colours are as pure ; it would be hard to find impurity in the rain- bow, but there is no white there. Sea-foam and snow, a chalk cliff and a lily, are white, but all their whites are different ; and every undulation of form, every half tint or light reflected upon them, and, still more, their shadows, make those whites again more different. Why do we associate perfect purity with white ? Is it not because of its exquisite union of all colours ? We do well to treasure the idea of its purity, but none the less is colour pure. The snow-white mountain against the mid-day blue is as the white of an opal, and as the morning rises and the evening sets upon it, it turns to gold and ruby, and at night it is more silvery than the moon. Those colours are but elements of its whiteness, and are as veils of beauty thrown over it, in Nature's varying moods. Colour is all pure in itself, and it is perhaps the very intensity of our sense of its perfect purity, that induces our dread of art's imperfect use of it ; as though colour were an element so divinely pure as could be entrusted only to that Hand that clothed all Nature with it. If form be pure, then colour purely used can only enhance that purity, for it is but an ethereal element of light. The forms of sculpture are not changed by it ; but it may be that for want of custom or experience our inner sense is confused by that union of form and colour ; still it is unreasonable to object, except on confession of our mental inability to reconcile our sense or mind to the union of what our habits of thought had separated. But were they, are they right in that separation ? where is their authority ? Certainly not in Nature, for in all that surrounds our life colour is everywhere ; but the sense of abstract purity conveyed by white is so universal and so strong, and in our F 66 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY inward conviction its symbolism is so sacred, that to offend it would be sacrilege. But if colour is as pure as white, as the very elements of that which is pure cannot be less pure than that which they combine to produce, and the source from which they flow, may not the intelligent sense of colour demand an equal courtesy of respect ? In light is the fountain of all existence ; it brings life with it, and whether in the unity or the separation of its elements it is equally an emanation of divine beauty. The greatest difficulty that art has to meet, in its communication of thought from man to man, is that variety of disposition and sense that results in a tangle of irreconcilable convictions which no reasoning can touch, because the very basis of comprehension does not exist between them. We must therefore agree to differ, and we must respect each other's differences ; for the senses to which art addresses itself are the en- dowments of our individual natures ; and art's best hope is in her power both to delight and teach, and thus to break through the crust of indifference or inability, and to enter, as naught else can enter but by appeal to the universal sympathies of mankind, by inspiring thoughts that turn men's minds inwardly upon themselves, and lead them at last to the percep- tion of that soul in art, which, through the skilful semblances of outward beauty, appeals to them and wins them. In practice the association of colour with sculpture can be only rightly conceived by mastering the pro- prieties of it, proprieties that are not limited by what such form or colour might be in Nature, but such as would best aid the expression of the idea they are designed by the artist to convey. The conception and choice of colours are apt to be embarrassed by the recollection of them in relation to accustomed forms COLOUR AXD SCULPTURE and effects, and thus associating them in our ideas with truth and untruth. But if sculpture be rightly under- stood as appealing to the moral and intellectual sense, rather than by mockery of imitation to delude the sight, all the choice of form, composition, relief, colour, and all else that combines to produce its expression, must be guided by an art that would of necessity include the idea of nature and reality ; but at the same time would assume, with all the supreme author- ity of genius, the power and the right to use and modulate the whole scale of those material means, and so to embody its life and purpose as genius had itself conceived them. With this view and to this end it is at once clear that the conception of colour, in its relation to all arts, must come from within, from the mental reflex of external truth ; and the associations of its truth or untruth, its fitness or unfitness, must be grasped as completely in relation to idea as to fact Colour, as art uses it, is true when it is true to the great pur- pose of its existence, viz. to enhance existing beauty, by the marriage of two beauties, of form and of itself, thus making one. It is untrue when its purpose is a lie, by the attempt to make a thing appear what it is not The nude of a statue is not flesh, the drapery of it is not stuff of woven flax or wool, and colour that would be used in either case with the purpose of de- ception, would be a falsity and offence. Those forms were conceived, composed, and executed to satisfy the sculptor's impulse, to present to others the embodied idea of what his own heart and mind had drawn from the depths of Nature's inspiration ; and just as his idea may have been one of power or of tenderness, of simplicity or majesty, of life or death, his purpose was so to arrest the minds of other men as the inspiration of it had arrested and overcome his own ; and then, 68 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY if, in the completeness of his art, he let colour come to breathe upon those forms, it was not to flush their surface with a mock reality, but to perfect their ideal, by making tenderness more tender, death more solemn, life more lovely, majesty more sublime. Do you ask how is all this to be obtained ? I can only reply that no mortal can teach the secret of it ; for there is nothing in the whole range of art more spontaneously artistic, undefinable, and ideal, than the relation of colour to form. The perception of it lies in intuitive genius ; and the only ruling of it is that of a pure mind and of a knowledge, taste, and judgment profoundly matured. It is a laudable jealousy that would restrict an art to its own sphere, and so far as this is the opponent motive to the use of colour with sculpture, it is worthy of all respect ; but the limits of any art's sphere are not easily assigned ; its characteristics may be readily defined, but they are not its exhaustive definition. When Socrates, himself a sculptor in his youth, said to his friend Crito that the province of sculpture was " to represent the emotions of the soul by form," he beauti- fully expressed the speciality of the art ; but art is too elastic and expansive to be shut up within the limits of an aphorism. As well might we say that " the pro- vince of eloquence is to express the emotions of the soul by words ;" but what does not intonation of voice, expression of countenance, and bodily action add of life and power to those words ? So too in sculpture the intonation of its material may be invaluable in its effect on form, as Gibson felt when he wrote to a friend " form is spiritualised by the tinting ; it makes its forget the material ; the Greeks were right." Sculp- ture from the days of Daedalus to Praxiteles has pro- gressed, like every other art, by the gradual accumula- tion of graces ; and in its progress it has been so v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 69 sensitive to external influences that the poetry, the philosophy, and the contemporary civilisation, have affected it throughout The merely abstract ideal of " form " in sculpture was by itself insufficient " to express the emotions of the soul ;" so poetry suggested the attributes of the figures, philosophy and religion suggested its motive and symbolism, refinement of civilised life suggested its accompaniments and acces- sories of expression, all which the sculptor felt by turns, and breathing into his work the breath of his own life, he reproduced the influences he had received. Still " form " was indeed paramount, as words are paramount in eloquence ; and all that accompanied form was but an item of accumulated grace to give it moral and intellectual interest, and thus to em- phasise the speciality of its beauty. So Socrates's dictum remains unquestioned ; but as form is precious not merely " for the expression of the sculptor's soul," but still more for that of humanity, the power of its beauty is at once asserted, and all that could help its interpretation, as in some cases at least the added element of colour might do, would enhance and endear it to mankind : and thus men would feel " the emotions of their own souls " relieved in the expressive eloquence of the artist's work. Each art has indeed its own sphere, but each has many spheres within itself; and to these it must be true, and by their limits alone can it be fairly barred. Within them all is liberty, a liberty that is conscious of itself; and, conscious of the dignity of self-restraint, it ranges with freedom within the fences that " truth to its own purpose " has alone the authority to impose. Where then is the career of sculpture to be stopped ? Sculpture is not limited by its subjects. Carving may mark its lower, statuary its higher sphere ; but from the flowers and fruit of Grinling Gibbons to the Venus of Praxiteles 70 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY all is sculpture. The panels of Ghiberti's doors may seem to invade the art of painting, and the Cariatides of the Erectheum to trespass upon true architecture ; but all these are recognised as not only beautiful but legitimate, because they are seen to fulfil their various purposes with propriety and grace. Where then is the limit to be placed ? Again I must say that no mortal can teach the secret of it ; and no rule but " truth to its own pro- vince " can limit any art : a rule indeed dangerously indefinite, a free will that is open to good or evil, like that of the life of men and nations, of which fine art is the reflection and the exponent. Purity, propriety, and truth are counsels of perfection exquisitely ideal, and by their standard must all fine art be judged ; but the words have not yet been written that could frame the indictment. All art is the union of material and mind, and it is the artist's touch that makes and consecrates their marriage. In sculpture it is not merely by the choice of subjects nor the composition of its forms, but by the subtlety of touch that it fascinates the world. But the sculptor's work, however beautiful in other ways, may be marred by imperfections of its surface. There is hardly a limit to its finish. It is the unceasing move- ment of undulation on the surface of a statue that gives it, from every point of view, that mystery of rounded profile that captivates the sight. Much of this effect may be due to the material, and white marble has been the sculptor's favourite resource, as offering the greatest facilities and the fewest defects. Materials of dark colour, like bronze and porphyry and black marble, need highly-polished surfaces to make their modelling visible, and consequently are liable to the disagreeable effect of bright high lights in violent contrast to their local colour, all which is avoided in white marble. v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 71 The brilliant high lights that give vivacity to pottery are not equally agreeable as bright spots on the muscles, limbs, and features of a statue. A surface of modified lustre is the best ; but even that depends somewhat on the tone of it. Pure white marble, freshly cut, fails to show the delicacy of its modelling as the same would show it, if relieved of its intense glare of whiteness. So terra cotta has been a favourite and successful material from the soft richness of its tint. Ivory too has been so for the same reason, and for the facility of its colouring. But marble is the queen of all materials for sculpture ; and, to remedy its one defect of white- ness the greatest artist of art's greatest days supplied to it, by a simple artifice, what time has done to it for us by the mellowing effect of age. It is not merely to the ocular but to the mental vision that sculpture addresses itself, and hence the difficulty of its complex artifice. The works are addressed to the world at large, and are felt and thought about, just as it may happen that they fall on heedless or thoughtful eyes ; how much therefore their effect depends on external circumstances it would be hard to exaggerate. We, whose sight is trained to the veiled light of northern sunshine, can only realise by imagination the needs of southern eyes. They crave for colour. Their bright atmosphere imbued their very nature, and even where, from mere habit, all idea and thought about it was a blank, the mental happiness, unconscious of its source, was there, and came of the soothing joy of satisfied sense. Colour was with them a necessity. As their world would be lifeless without it, so their works without it seemed bald and wanting. It would be hardly chargeable with exaggeration to say that their works were always coloured either artificially or by the choice of material ; for there is no style nor period of art, when by some form of evidence, 72 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY direct or indirect, it may not be asserted that colour was an element of it. Colour, as bluntly conceived by unaccustomed minds, must not be confounded with the refined delicacy of its use in the hands of a consummate artist. The language of colour has an unwritten grammar, that has a phraseology of its own according to its varying mood and purposes. Some plain rules and great principles may be laid down for its use, but beyond them the true artist's use of it must be learnt by the love of it, and matured by that thought and care to which that love alone is sure to lead. Doubtless it needs a natural aptitude for its comprehension ; but it is a great reality which those who cannot appreciate must be content to accept. They may glory in the colours of pictorial art, but they battle with the idea of colour used with sculpture, because their sense is confounded by what their minds fail to reconcile. In early days of art it may have pleased barbarous eyes, and in better times even those blinded by the affections of archaeological association, to have seen the statues of the gods daubed with vermilion ; and such may have been the result of habit even upon the most trained eyes and taste, that all sculpture may have seemed wanting in effect without at least some colour- ing, where the very air itself was full of colour, making the cold white marble an offensive blot. But be the colouring of their sculpture what it might, its object could not have been illusion, nor its principle that of bare naturalistic reproduction, for it is impossible to believe that such heroes of art's acme, as those of the days of Pericles, could for a moment have tolerated the annihilation of all their art's poetry by the substitution of the base for the ideal, the sham of reality for the truth of feeling, in the production of what even to our v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 73 inferior sense and taste could be only stigmatised as demonstrative vulgarity. If we seek a guide to our judgment on such sub- jects and look back to the days that all regard as those of art's perfection, we find our views enlarged and our practice modified by such a review. They must be so only with this reserve, that no age must be the slave to another, nor one country to another's arts, which the exigencies of their climate and the habits of the people must originate and naturalise among them, if their arts are to be worth their name. In looking for precedents to such times, difficulties arise from the absence of any complete examples, and from our dependence on the writings of travellers, archaeologists, and dilettanti, who were not experts in the arts they describe. Still, such is the aggregate testimony, that all great principles involved are clear enough to reconstitute those arts, so at least as to represent them to our minds, though our skill might fail to reproduce them. In early poetry and early art we find the germs of what maturer times produced. It needed the sunshine of national enthusiasm to complete their growth. The earliest sculpture that we know was painted, or made or ornamented with coloured materials. As we might expect, all eyes turn southward for any historic art with the attribute of early genius ; and thence sculpture came with all its colour, and there many of its ancient models still remain. Eastward too there was light and warmth and wealth for art's development, and, what was needed also, the cultivated civilisation and natural aptitude of the people. Architecture, providing for life's earliest necessities, was the first to be developed ; and with that we are at once introduced to the use of colours. Sculpture followed as its natural relief, with its forms of mingled wood and marble, painted and clothed with embroidered drapery. From the splendid 74 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY palaces of Assyria to the temples on the Nile all was coloured. Even where the dread of idolatry excluded imitation, as in the temple of Solomon, no limit was imposed on the glorification of all other modes of art with gold and vermilion, cedar, ivory, and metals, " bright ivory overlaid with sapphires and pillars of marble set in sockets of gold." l Although the artists may have been comparatively rude, rejoicing in effects of colossal size and gorgeous display, they certainly had mastered the great principles of adapting material and ornament to their right place and purpose. Their art was essentially objective. It needed centuries of refining civilisation to develop the subjective sense of beauty and expression ; and still more to reach that most abstract of all phases of art, when an uncoloured statue became a possibility. The arts travelled westward with all their tradition of splendour and their strange mixture of barbaric and refined idea, consecrated by associations of antiquity ; with combinations of material and skill that East and South had brought into full practice, and needed only the genius of Pheidias to bring to perfection. The sculptured wall -pictures of Nineveh and Egypt, the golden gates of Shalmanezer's palace, 2 with their pro- cessions of countless figures in relief and incidents of history and warfare, were the first suggestions of an art perfected at last in the friezes of Athens and Pheigalia. Such were the conditions, the forms, and materials of art that the Greeks received as a precious legacy from the nations of the world ; and, with the mighty mind and skill of that great people, they perfected and adapted them to their own national character and use. 1 Canticles V., vs. 14-15. 2 The gates from Ballawatt, now in the Assyrian Department, British Museum. v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 75 Transforming them by their genius, transfusing them with their poetry, they made them all their own. Greece plucked the fair flowers from the gardens of her neighbours, and sowed their seed at home, that when they bloomed again they might be only Greek. The inquiry into their use of colours at the highest period of their arts is not easily satisfied, because it depends in great degree upon the careful inference of experts, and cannot be, except in a few cases, posi- tively demonstrated. We acknowledge their authority, and without yielding a tittle of the genius and power of our own times, we may accept the canons of their taste, and profit by their experiences. But colours are themselves so frail and fugitive, and the preparatory film of material on which they were laid was so tender, that scarcely a scrap of them remains. The deep recesses of sculptured forms, the sheltered corners of walls and hollowed mouldings alone retain the evidences of what once covered them. The descriptions of ancient travellers, the quotations from ancient authors, the dis- coverers of our own time who have dug out broken remnants that carelessness, fanaticism, or greed had failed to destroy ; the inferior works of latest classic work exhumed from buried cities or found upon the ruins of ancient monuments and cemeteries, preserve at least, although in shadowy forms, the traditions of the arts of past great days, and make, with rare exceptions, the total catalogue for our reference ; still they are sufficient to convince unprejudiced judgment, that colour was an important element of sculpturesque and architectural effect in the greatest works of classic art. Materials that in the South and East were common, with us are rare ; and we are too apt to appreciate for their rarity what the great artists of antiquity valued only as subservient to the production of their effects : so they gilt and painted what we should quail to touch. 76 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY But it is a grievous task to attempt description of them, or to convey to others the true import of one's words, where all depends upon the subtleties of art. The refinements of artistic sense are indescribable ; form cannot be conveyed in words ; and of colour it is hope- less to insure the true impression, where each mind takes them in its own sense, and the bare mention of them suggests to many an effect of glare and violence, when all that was meant might have been but the tenderest blush of white or the opalescence of a pearl. Wherever we look among the sites of ancient celebrity, as at ygina and Athens, in the Morea or in Asia Minor, at Olympia and Halicarnassus and the islands of the ^Egean ; at Paestum, Girgenti, or Selinunte, and among the countless remains scattered far and wide, but of which all trace or name is lost : unquestionable evidences from travellers whose very purpose as scholars and artists was to search out and verify the history and arts of classical antiquity, all combine to one and the same result. In many places the colouring remained bright ; in others, where the gold or encaustic had perished from the sculpture, the stain remained ; where the colour had faded from the architecture the etched outlines showed where the architect had designed upon his mouldings the ornament for the painter : holes in the marble plainly indicated where metal decorations had been fastened on the frieze, where the gilt bronze harness had been fitted to the horses, and where helmets and weapons had been attached to the figures of gods and men. But beyond the mere fact of the existence of this colouring that which gives special interest to its varied use is the plain distinction which had evidently pre- vailed between the treatment of different kinds of sculpture, namely, that in high or low relief and the two distinct classes of statues those associated with v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 77 architecture and those independent of it. If it be borne in mind how absolutely distinct is the principle of architectural effect from that which constitutes the beauty of independent statuary, the principles of all ornamental treatment will fall at once into distinct and reasonable systems. For instance, in sculpture, taken independently, however definite the composition may be, however bold its effects of contrast and relief, its beauty depends on those qualities which exemplify life ; and the blending together of its distinct features, and the modulation of the curves and undulations of surface and profile into one another, are the special elements of its treatment. In architecture, on the con- trary, its composition is based on precisely opposite principles of construction and effect. There is no blending of its parts, no softening of its outlines, no thought of life (not that architecture lacks life, for every fine art is a thing of life, and in architecture its vitality is the measure of its excellence, the life of idea from which it sprang, and the life implanted in its every feature by the mind and hand that executed them). This contrast between architecture and sculpture will be better appreciated by remembering that every feature in architecture is an entity complete in itself, cut off from every other by sharp definitions, as the abacus separates the capital from the entablature, and the astragal cuts off the capital from the shaft, the metopes, the triglyphs, the frieze, the cornice, or the arch having each a complete individuality and inde- pendence except that Art has so built them up together, and so combined their differences, as to make of them all one completed thing of beauty. The beauty found in each of these two arts depends of course on the excellence of its artistic treatment. If then any other art, as that of colour, comes to be employed upon them, or any ornamental material be 78 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY used to enhance their effects, such art must follow the ideals of their distinctive beauties, and maintain their respective characters, if it would not disfigure rather than adorn them ; and such were the plain and simple principles which, whether thought out or instinctively perceived, appear to have been accepted and practised by the greatest Greek artists. Thus their architecture was parti -coloured and treated with no feeble hands ; and this leading prin- ciple, viz. their recognition of the entire distinctness of each architectural feature, is exhibited in the method of their coloured treatment of it : for instance, triglyphs were usually painted in positive colours, without regard to the metopes between them. A traveller at Athens in 1837 described a metope lately found there as " sculptured in high relief, and painted red, blue, and green," but the flats of the architrave below them appear quite plain. Mouldings were selected for special colouring, such as the bands of richly -polychromed design of honey-suckle scrolls and frets which covered the grouped mouldings of the pediments and the level cornices of the finest marble models of Grecian archi- tecture ; and belts of deep colouring were carried independently all round these buildings, like the band along the peristyle above the Panathenaic frieze. The ground of that frieze was blue, and the figures relieved with gold and colours, some of the horsemen's head- dresses being coloured and their arms and ornaments gilt, while, in strong contrast, the bulk of the archi- tecture beneath them was left plain. 1 1 There is now no irrefragable evidence whether the external plain surfaces, such as columns, the flat parts of entablatures, etc., of marble architecture were or were not generally coloured. That the marble was coated with encaustic, whether as a preservative or to impart high finish to it, is from Vitruvius's account, writing from Greek sources, probable ; but whether those parts were coloured or not cannot now be assured. The mouldings have the most positive evidences of colours and their patterns ; v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 79 The grounds of the tympana and metopes were painted everywhere, in some cases, as in Sicily, red, in others, as in Greece, blue, against which the statues were relieved, and when nude were comparatively plain ; while in strong relief, their emblems, arms, drapery, and ornaments were boldly marked with colour, gilding, and metal -work. They grouped with the architecture, and as architecture was so were they. The capitals of the antae and of the colonnade under the porticoes were painted and gilt, while the white marble columns and capitals of the great peristyles were left uncoloured. Thus by all of these, which are but typical illustrations of what is found elsewhere, we perceive that the same principles on which architectural con- struction depended that is to say, on the distinct in- dividuality of eacJi feature so also the colouring of the associated sculpture appears to have been ruled, viz. by the arbitrary selection of a fine constructive taste, taking parts here and there and loading them with richest decoration, and leaving the rest plain stone or marble. The statues in the pediments at ^Egina may be too archaic to guide our taste ; but in them we have at least the plainest record of this traditional treatment of architectural sculpture, and the finer statuary of the Theseum may be quoted to the same effect. In both cases, indeed in all cases where fine Greek art has been sufficiently preserved to illustrate it, the colouring was positive, and composed in no relation to the picture or wall painter's art, but architecturally ; indeed so power- fully so as to have been too self-assertive and dis- but the thin pattina of colour on the large plain surfaces, if they had any, would have perished before the writers, on whom we depend, had seen them. Stone temples were coated with cement, as at Paestum and in Sicily ; the question being whether these, of which there is no doubt about their colouring all over, were so coloured in imitation of their greater models of art, viz. those of marble ? Pliny, Pausanias, and Lucian, and Vitruvius wrote 'of them about five hundred years after they were built. 8o THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY agreeable but for their association with a parti-coloured architecture. If this were an archaeological or con- troversial volume instead of an essay limited in its address, very much detail could be mentioned here to illustrate further this clear and distinct character of architectural treatment, and of the difference between architectural and independent sculpture ; but it may be said without prejudice that while some parts may have been left without definite tint beyond that of the wax and oil of the encaustic, in such pediments as those of Olympia and the Parthenon, just inference leads to a contrary opinion as to those of the more archaic ^Egina and the highly-decorated Theseum at Athens ; it is at the same time most unlikely, that those apparently uncoloured figures could have remained crude as they left the sculptor's or the mason's hands. It should be remembered that we are here referring to no ordinary works, or ordinary criticism, but to artists of unequalled refinement, and a population of extraordinary perception, who, undisturbed by the multiplicity of such life as ours, passed an out-of-door life, identifying themselves with their national arts, and regarding them not as the merely ornamental accessories of life but as important elements of national glory. Such men would regard all works of art around them with a seriousness and reality that a modern would smile at. They valued things not for their material but for their effect, and if the unmitigated glare of such a sunshine as theirs interfered with the perfection of sculpturesque effect, as in the delicacies of half- tints and reflected lights it certainly would, it is reasonable to infer that some treat- ment would be adopted to remedy such defects. As we see those marbles now, time has mellowed them ; but it has bared them also of the materials of that treatment by which their surfaces had been originally mellowed, viz. of that tender film by which the encaustic painter v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 81 had prepared them for colouring and gold, which has all likewise perished. But we are not altogether left in ignorance about these matters, for Greek artists and architects left writings descriptive of their principles and systems on many subjects, such as perspective, geometry, proportion, anatomy, and methods of painting, of which Vitruvius availed himself, and has preserved many valuable details from them. The originals have perished, but we have his description of the old Greek system of preparing walls for painting, and the method of treating the marble surfaces of both statues and walls. Pliny quotes from the same authorities, which lead to the inference that the encaustic preparation was all but an universal practice ; and by our own experience we know how the wax and oil, with or without resins, rubbed in and fixed by heat affects the marble, giving it a peculiar quality of effect between white alabaster and ivory, and either tinting it or not as may be : but in either case blending it with the coloured and otherwise rich effect of all around it. It appears therefore that the treatment of archi- tectural and independent sculpture differed on plain and reasonable grounds. The former had made part of a complex effect, and in consistency with the demand of artistic breadth, it had yielded to the stern demands of architectural composition. Colour had formed a very important part in it. Independent statuary, on the contrary, was clear of all obligation, and its colouring had relation to itself alone. With exception of a few touches of colour on drapery and accessories, to save the whole from insipidity, the treatment appears to have been very tender, the main purpose having been to clear the supports and parts of inferior importance from the figure itself, and thus by contrast to emphasise the beauty of the nude. The great chryselephantine statues of Pheidias at G 82 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY Athens and Olympia, and the Hera of Polycleitus with its ivory arms, its gorgeous robe and throne of gold, have had all the splendour of their colouring described by eye-witnesses ; but both through them and by the positive evidence of modern research, we know that all this magnificence of material was not isolated, but formed part of the general effect, being supported by other sculptures, by inlaid paintings, by coloured walls, such as those by Pansenus round the screen of the sanctuary at Olympia, by decorative metal -work, em- broidered drapery, and coloured marbles. And thus the breadth of result that an artist's sense demands was secured : but on individual and independent statues such was the influence and such the demands, of all the coloured materials around them everywhere, without which ancient art appears to have been re- garded as incomplete, that these too were not left of unstained or unalloyed metals, nor of crude untempered marble. Details of universal use, the common daily effects of things, are not noticed in written records. The very commonness of that use of colour accounts for the rarity of remarks about it. Great works, that we know to have glowed with it, are described by ancient authors without a word about their colouring. It was taken for granted in sculpture as well as in architecture ; and unless for some special reason we only incidentally come upon the notice of it, as in Virgil's dedication to Venus of a figure of Cupid with many-coloured wings and a painted quiver, and of a marble statue with crimson sandals to Diana ; or when Callistratus admires the blush on the cheeks of a bronze cupid by Praxiteles, or where the sculptor Aphrodisius is designated as the sculptor and statue painter (' ^aX/mro-Troto? ey/cavar^'), mere passing notices, which could be greatly multiplied, and which by their incidental character testify to the ordinary nature of v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 83 the remarks. The greatest works of Greek independent sculpture appear not to have been of marble but of bronze and other metals ; indeed the list of materials used in them reads like a catalogue of colours. The metals were varied by alloys, stained surfaces and gilding, and the marble when it left the sculptor's hand was submitted, for complete finish, to another art than his. The profession of the statue painter was one of recognised importance, and his confraternity appears to have included the distinct occupations of the encaustic painter, the gilder, and the stainer, 1 skilled decorators, but in their ways artists. The encaustic was variously compounded of wax, oil, and resin, and sometimes tinged with colours, as the"circumlitio variata" mentioned by Seneca implies. It gave to fresh marble the mellow- ness of age, and aided the sight of the tenderest undulations by counteracting all glare, without inter- fering with its crystalline luminousness. The deli- cate movements of the surface of fine sculpture are at the mercy of material. They are lost in the plaster cast, and are invisible in stone : hence the preference in critical Greek eyes for such compact surfaces as of ivory and metal. If in this respect marble fell at all short of these materials it was superior to them in many ways, by its easy workmanship, its adaptableness to any subject, and pre-eminently to the work of the encaustic painter, who remedied all defects, giving consistency to its surface, softening its rounded profiles, and harmonising it with surrounding colours. Encaustic painting was not necessarily colouring, but served as the preparation for it, and for protection of the surface when colours were not used. To write of painting statues might mislead a reader : the expression might have applied to archaic figures and reliefs, where 1 "AydX/j-aTUv ^yKavaral, xpu(ru>ra2, /cal /3a0ets. Plutarch, De Glor. Athen. 6. 84 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY painted architecture, whether Greek or Gothic, required such treatment ; but in all thought of the colouring of such sculpture as I now speak of, independent high- class work, the barest idea of paint as commonly under- stood must be at once dismissed, and in place of it must be conceived an art peculiar to itself, of utmost refinement of sight and handling. Its purpose was altogether subordinate ; less with a view to any imitation of nature than of conventionally aiding materials to the more perfect display of the beauty that sculpture had itself already produced. Hence the intense refinement of it. It was a useful ornament, but would cease to be so if obtrusive or suggestive of a second idea apart from form. The arts of the " stainer " and of " encaustic " combined, whether on drapery or emblems, accessories or supports, or on the figure itself, had for their one sole purpose the perfect exhibition of the figure by the relief and contrasts that they afforded. So in all ways colour, whether tenderly or power- fully used, was within the strict limits and province of the great art it served. It would marr rather than aid the effect of sculpture if it transgressed those limits. Sculpture is the highest and most difficult of the imitative arts ; and they are rightly called imitative, from the artist's sheer necessity, having only Nature's models to follow ; but imitation in art is an intellectual, not a mechanical process, a matter of translation ; it is Nature's voice spoken by the artist's method ; it is the realisation of impressions, that, in passing through the artist's mind, are affected by his character and motive in the image that he gives to his idea. The highest value of his work is in the moral aspect of it ; the whole force of it depends on the unity of its ideal ; and whether colour or no colour be used, it is so used or not, and only so to insure the completeness of its expression. Even if in such master works as the v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 85 Theseum or the Parthenon the nude parts of the pedimental sculpture had been tinted or stained flesh colour, this mere flat wash of colour as contrasted with the actual painting of flesh, as in a picture, with its fixed composition of light and shade, its countless gradations and broken tints, is a totally different matter ; and it is impossible to believe that such men as Pheidias (himself a painter before he was a sculptor), or his chief encaustic artist Pansenus, or at the Theseum, Myron, both painter and sculptor, could for an in- stant have transgressed the province of their arts, or have done more than to use a consistent local tint, whether such were warm, as some flesh tints would be, or merely with the mellowness of the olive com- plexions of the south ; but, whatever it was, so modified as finest taste would suggest to harmonise the white marble with the richly-ornamented architecture, the painted mouldings and the deep shadows of the pediment above, and of the portico below. It was with the instinct of the artist that they acted ; and, whatever was the course they pursued, they knew too well both what art and nature meant, to be guilty of the weak folly of making mock realities. The soft white Parian marble was as precious to the Greek as to us ; but he used it with the independence of an artist's genius, colouring, toning, gilding, and otherwise adorning it or not to suit his purpose. He knew full well that the end of art was not to delude but to delight ; the very thought of illusion would never cross his mind. His work was art ; his mistress Nature, too revered for mimicry ; but the bald marble might be too self-assertive, too obtrusive of its own material for his desired result. His purpose was to realise imagery, which haunted his imagination, not to glorify marble, and most certainly not to counterfeit flesh. His result would be a work of art, natural indeed, but ideal also, 86 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY to bring his conception of Nature's beauty to the hearts of other men ; a work so schemed and executed, simple or complex, plain or coloured, but such as would leave all sense and thought unimpeded, by the mere technicalities of art, to range freely in the action and story of it, and to enjoy that motive poetry of it with which his own mind and imagination had been filled. The artist speaks only through his works, and Nature's forms are all he has to use ; and it would be difficult to conceive a greater libel against her, who is the source and centre of all the real and the ideal both of art and life, than the mocking image of pretended truth, in the attempt to produce the thing without the life which is all that gives value to that thing's reality. The art of art is not to hide itself, but to hide its artifice. A work of art is not a pretence. A statue is a reality, but a reality of art ; not as the rival of Nature's work, but the reflection of her spirit. Colour is but one mode of an artist's expression. Doubtless the ideal of sculpture is the perfect beauty of abstract form ; but expression is the life of it ; without it art is dead ; for what is art's action in its highest sense but the appeal of the living to the living ? Even if death be its subject, it is the grandeur or the pathos of that death that makes the poetry of it beautiful, and the sculpture of it precious. Colour does not alter form, but argument is out of place where Nature rules ; and art has no logic for cold reason, but goes straight to the heart by the rhetoric of sympathy. The " How and how much ?" of colouring, of inde- pendent classical sculpture, must be ever a matter of uncertainty. The notices of ancient writers are vague ; and time, accident, and atmosphere have done their worst, and have left us but little positive evidence, as compared with what remains on works of architecture. Nearly five centuries had passed over the master- v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 87 pieces of antiquity before such writers as Pausanias, Pliny, Strabo, and Lucian described their state. Still there is an ample accumulation of many scraps and kinds of testimony to justify the inference of how great a part colour played in all the master works of art's greatest days, and how thorough were the knowledge and the taste of their authors. As their grandest works of sculpture, the colossal figures in the temples of the gods, were enriched with every coloured material and every mode of coloured ornament that ingenuity could devise, the use of colour is implied on others standing near them, to save them from a contrast painfully obtrusive. In the Heroum at Olympia there were above twenty statues of gold and ivory, and such figures were the special subjects for the coloured ornamenta- tion of jewelry and enamel. The heroic statues were commonly of bronze, sometimes gilt, sometimes of metal much alloyed, sometimes stained with bitumen : the marble statues were tinted by encaustic, the famous " circumlitio " being the process of its use. With these the temples within and without, the porticoes, the galleries of the market-places, the Lesche, the Agorae, and the public walks, were orna- mented, and such was the general taste for coloured and varied materials that statues of ivory and gold, exported by hundreds, became an important part of Athenian trade. Such was the proud magnificence to which victorious Athens had trained her people. The artist's mind was full of the romance and heroism of his own times ; and his imagination, enriched with the myths, the poetry, and the traditions of his country's history, realised to the people the just mead of their own devotion. For us imagination alone can form a picture of it. No painted casts, no plaster models of temple fronts and groups of sculpture, even were Aphrodisius, Pansenus, and Nicias called up to paint 88 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY them, could give the faintest idea of those glories of old art. Colour needs colour ; and colour supports colour, and the material it adorns makes much of its beauty. No grouped or isolated illustrations could inspire the idea of what that reunion of the arts produced ; nor reproduce that symphony of harmonious form and colour that the wealth and refinement of Greek cities realised, and Greek sun and atmosphere made possible. Nature has taught and trained us all. It has endeared to us our sober scenery, our misty skies, and the gray moss and lichen on our storm-stained walls ; but to them, that glorious flood of light that turned their distant glaciers into jewelry, that deep blue sea, those cliffs and sun-browned rocks that had trained their sight to the revelry of colours, had made such backgrounds for all that human hands could raise in front of them, that their architecture and sculpture would have been intolerable without some artifice to harmonise them with Nature. So colour was the note to which they were all attuned ; and Pheidias and his friends let their artistic enthusiasm go free in the gold and vermilion of their sunny cornices, and in the vigorous contrasts and reliefs of their groups of sculpture. The common reference that the opponents of colour- ing make to the authority of Lucian to prove the absence of all colour on the finest works of ancient sculpture, by citing the whiteness of Praxiteles's masterpiece, the Venus of Cnidos, appears to me to savour of a criticism inspired by an exaggeration or misconception of the use of colour, and indeed in some persons by a natural inaptitude or a temper of resolute antipathy. Lucian presents the subject in the form of an imaginary con- versation, in which the 'speakers are engaged not so much in artistic criticism as in lauding the exquisite complexion of a beautiful lady. They compare it with v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 89 the finest known works of sculpture and painting, and to this statue in particular, concluding that marble is too white for it ; and hence modern opinion has jumped to the result that all the finest marble sculpture of antiquity was left crude white from the master's hand. Then how about Praxiteles's opinion, which was dia- metrically the opposite of this? The idea of repre- senting the natural effect of flesh in the colouring of statues, or even the broader treatment of washing a statue over with what is commonly understood as flesh tint, except in the necessary conventionality of archi- tectural sculpture, would be an equal insult to human eyes and to Nature. I can, however, imagine an art- loving literary archaeologist, but certainly not an artist, writing that he " meant by painting a statue, the employment of colours so as to give to the face and body the actual hues which they have in nature." 1 Praxiteles would have thought Nicias gone mad if he had written that. It is not to be wondered at that Lucian's conversation concludes that sculptured marble was too white for comparison with the flesh of that lady. 2 It is the misconception of the art of applying colour to sculpture that presses the argument, without 1 Quatremere de Quincy, Le Jupiter Olympien. 2 If Lucian's imaginary allusions to the Venus of Cnidos be properly estimated, it will be remembered that the statue was above 450 years old when he saw it, and that the colour used for such a tint as such a statue would have had, would have been very fugitive. The real colour would in all prob- ability have been a merely mellowing tint, with which its encaustic would have been " variata." He does not mention colour or white, but describes the effect as \afj.7rpoTr]s, which answers exactly to Pliny's word " nitescunt." If &'jwarm tint were used on it, the colour would have been most probably prepared with vermilion and treated in the most delicate manner. Archaic statues were much prized in the time of Praxiteles for some pleasant or quaint associations, and these were painted all over with unmitigated ver- milion[; but even in that excess of colour, such was its quality that those statues had to be frequently repainted. Any other colour would have been stains, still more fugitive, or ocres uselessly opaque. Lucian's testimony as to the non-existence of colouring on that or any other sculpture contemporary with it, seems therefore to me worthless. 90 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY thought of circumstances or the limits of each art, that " proximity to naturalist representation marks the degrees of an art's perfection." It may do so as regards mechanical imitation, for perfect mechanism would make any number of copies the same, but no two out of twenty artists, worth their salt, would or could make their copies alike if acting independently, especially if they were studies from Nature, for a copy is the idea or impression of each individual mind reflected in his work, and there is none such in a mechanical copyist. An artist not merely sees but feels, and works as he feels. So in using colour, if condescend- ing to the base trade of a wax portrait modeller, he would probably "represent nature" (!) better than any other man ; but as a sculptor, putting out the whole energy of his artistic sense, the feeling which prompted his idea would be his guide, and colour would then become an abstract conception, totally irrespective of simple natural effect, and, if used at all, would be so, not as an element of representative art, but as an element of perfection to be moulded to his purpose, to enhance the expression of his work, an imitation, indeed, if you will, both of form and colour, but the imitation of the ideal of Nature in his mind. Parian marble was so tender in texture and hue that to use the word asperity, as a fault of its natural surface, would be an exaggeration ; but works of art are not independent of surrounding circumstances, and the treatment of marble surfaces in sculpture by the ancients in some way or other, beyond the last touch of file or chisel, is indubitable ; and in doing so, there could be no purpose but to modify them. In Lucian's conversation, the surface was not declared to be un- coloured, but only too white for human flesh. The Venus of Cnidos was said to be so, but that was all. White has a very wide range indeed of hues, short of COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 91 the tender life -blood -tint even of the fairest flesh. That statue was cited as an exquisite example, but a defect in the marble, marked by a dark spot on one of the legs, has been especially noticed as a proof that the statue was not " painted." Most true, indeed, it was not so, as this crude idea of " paint " implies, which no artist's mind would have conceived. The marble was marble still, not for its own exhibition of lime and crystals, but to serve its purpose ; not mimic flesh, to delude and offend by vulgar trickery, but marble still, with unobtrusive surface, toned, veiled, and made beauti- ful as only art can make it. But as this was one of the master's finest works, of which he said those " pleased him most " that his young friend the encaustic painter Nicias had touched, 1 it is but a fair inference that this, his masterpiece, the Venus of Cnidos, was among that number that " pleased him most." That figure was the ideal of female beauty, and not in form only, but in tone and texture, all would have been done by such a master to make it perfect. The encaustic circumlitio, whether plain or " variata," but equally mellowing and transparent, would have exactly produced the desired effect, and the softness of its tint would have made refinement more refined. All was coloured round it. The open shrine in which it stood, was surrounded by all that cost and artifice of ornamental gardening could produce ; and if upon the statue itself the mellow tint of the encaustic painter produced a blush that did but play into the fancy of the eyes, without pretending to reality, the marble would only have been softened by it, not disguised, and, by contrast, have been made only more beautifully white. The negative evidence of the non-existence of 1 " Dicebat Praxiteles interrogates que maxime opera sua probasset in marboribus quibus Nicias manum admovisset,' tantum circumlitioni ejus tribuebat." Pliny, N. H. xxxv. 92 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY examples, or of any definite account of the artistic treatment of this class of sculpture, is not conclusive. The positive evidence of the finest works having been subject to the encaustic painter, 1 as those of Praxiteles, or worked in variously coloured materials as those of Pheidias, or decked with jewels and gold as was the Venus dei Medici, indicates sufficiently the direction of public taste of that age as guided by its greatest men. By piecing together the fragments of ancient and modern testimony, it seems to me inevitable to con- clude that colour was very widely used in the finest sculpture of the Greeks, and that its general use pre- vented any effect of peculiarity and strangeness which its extreme rarity produces upon us. It may be im- possible to say exactly where and how much, especially with respect to the actual tinting of the nude parts ; but taking for granted the finest discrimination in its use, there is strong testimony for its artistic propriety. From what we know of the style in which ancient writers treat such subjects, a perfectly definite description of colours could not be expected. For instance, Plato's admiration of the local propriety of the colours used on painted statues leaves all detail to the imagination. Gilding, colours, and statue painting, are mentioned again and again by old authors, but almost always with poetic vagueness. Statues are said to have been sometimes painted with vermilion, but we know that that colour varies from the most offensive violence to the ground of the tenderest blush. The choice of ivory for the nude parts suggests the almost necessary use of a stain upon it, 2 as in the case of ornaments where such 1 " Uti signa marmoria curantur." Vitruvius, vii. 9. Quoting from ancient Greek writers. 2 Among the Athenian artists of the time of Pericles, Plutarch men- tions e\^0ai/Tos co7/3a0oi, painters of ivory, or painters from life on ivory. Ivory was treated with great independence by the ancients, who, careless of its beautiful colour, very commonly used it as a vehicle for other colours. v COLOUR AND SCULPTURE 93 treatment was universal ; but in the use of it for the nude parts of statues, it was necessary to overcome the unbecoming blots and tints of its inlaid pieces, or its liability to turn yellow. But realistic imitation of flesh is nowhere specified, nor are there any remains of any attempt at flesh-tint, such as is generally understood by that word, except on statuettes and figures in coloured terra -cotta ; but ivory of itself approached so near to the tone and texture of flesh, that anything done to it by the artist would have been inevitably in the direction of greater likeness, however much or little he modified his tints of yellow, olive, red, or brown ; so that from all we naturally infer, and from what we gather by the facts of special " ivory painters " being employed, or by Plato's expressed admiration of the " appropriateness " of the colouring of statues, or from the use of jewelry to give brightness to the eyes, and the entirely naturalistic effect of the enamel-embroidered drapery and of the constructive materials, it is inevit- able to conclude that if in any form of sculpture realistic effect was the result of its ornament, it was in those colossal statues of ivory and gold. But this was contrary to the great sculptor's wish. Pheidias had urged to the utmost his preference for marble ; but he was overruled, and the employment of ivory was forced upon him by the popular will ; and every touch that degraded the ideal to the level of imitative reality was executed by other hands than his. In the writings of numerous travellers and artists, both English and foreign, early in this century, we In several places Homer mentions it, as in Iliad, IV. v. 141, where he de- scribes the ornaments of purple stained ivory of the harness. The plaques of ivory from Assyria and Egypt are commonly so carved for the purpose of inlaid coloured enamel, that not half the ivory surface is left. The mediaeval ivories were also frequently painted, just as the ancient Greeks had treated their marble architectural sculpture, painting strong flat back- grounds, gilding all ornaments, and colouring forcibly the linings of draperies and accessories. 94 THE MINISTRY OF FINE ART ESSAY have the clear evidence of eye-witnesses of the colour- ing of the finest marble : as Professor Cockerell writes of the Parian marble sculpture of the Theseum, "The Minerva, the central figure of the Western Pediment, was painted with chequers of beads ; the ^Egis was painted all over, with gilded scales, etc. ; " and Mr. Dodwell, writing in 1813, says of the marble figures of the Pediment of ^Egina, "The statues were all painted, the colours are still visible;" and of the Theseum, he writes (in 1801-6), "the armour and the accessories have been gilt to represent gold or bronze ; the drapery is generally green, blue, or red, the favourite colours of the Greeks. The scene took place in the open air, so the ground is painted blue." 1 And thus many others have written about other places and other sculpture, of which these are but specimens ; and although such notices apply exclusively to temple statues and reliefs on temple walls, they indicate at least the general principle how architectural sculpture was treated in other buildings, for colour and gold was not peculiar to temple architecture ; but the statues in the 1 The references to authorities on the subject of sculptural and archi- tectural colouring are too lengthy and numerous for quotation. Travellers and archaeologists from most countries in Europe have contributed to them. The following are some of the most easily accessible and worthy of study : Of ancient authors Pausanias, Strabo, Lucian, Pliny, Vitruvius, Callistratus's Descrip. Stat., Plutarch's De Glor. A then. Of modern date Mr. DodwelFs Travels in Greece, Mr. Clarke's ditto, Professor Cockerell's sEgina and Basses, Col. Leake's Topography of Athens, Stuart's Athens, Kennard's edition of ditto, Mr. Donaldson's Supplement to ditto, Sir C. Fellows's Lycia, Faulkener's Dadalus and Mitseum of Classical Antiquities, Mr. Penrose's Principles of Athen. Arch, and Polychromy, with coloured illustrations, R. Rochette's Peintures Antiqties and Lectures on Ancient Art, Letronne's Lettres d^un Antiqnaire, etc., Millin's Monuments Inedits, Quatremere de Quincy's Jupiter Olymp., Report of the French Expedition to the Morea, Report of German Expedition to Olympia, Bronsted's Voyage en Grece, Weigmann's Die Malerei der Alien, Kugler's Ueber die Poly- chromie, Hittorff's Temple d^Empedocle, Stackelberg's Apollo Tempel zu Bass