For there is one strange, but quite essential, character in

[Transcriber's note: Transliteration of Greek words appears between + signs.]

Library Edition

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF JOHN RUSKIN

CROWN OF WILD OLIVE

TIME AND TIDE

QUEEN OF THE AIR

LECTURES ON ART AND LANDSCAPE

ARATRA PENTELICI

NATIONAL LIBRARY ASSOCIATION

NEW YORK CHICAGO

***

LECTURES ON ART.

DELIVERED

BEFORE THE

UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD

IN HILARY TERM, 1870.

***

CONTENTS.

LECTURE I.

INAUGURAL 1

LECTURE II.

THE RELATION OF ART TO RELIGION 24

LECTURE III.

THE RELATION OF ART TO MORALS 46

LECTURE IV.

THE RELATION OF ART TO USE 66

LECTURE V.

LINE 86

LECTURE VI.

LIGHT 102

LECTURE VII.

COLOUR 123

PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1887.

The following lectures were the most important piece of my literary work

done with unabated power, best motive, and happiest concurrence of

circumstance. They were written and delivered while my mother yet lived,

and had vividest sympathy in all I was attempting;--while also my

friends put unbroken trust in me, and the course of study I had followed

seemed to fit me for the acceptance of noble tasks and graver

responsibilities than those only of a curious traveler, or casual

teacher.

Men of the present world may smile at the sanguine utterances of the

first four lectures: but it has not been wholly my own fault that they

have remained unfulfilled; nor do I retract one word of hope for the

success of other masters, nor a single promise made to the sincerity of

the student's labor, on the lines here indicated. It would have been

necessary to my success, that I should have accepted permanent residence

in Oxford, and scattered none of my energy in other tasks. But I chose

to spend half my time at Coniston Waterhead; and to use half my force in

attempts to form a new social organization,--the St. George's

Guild,--which made all my Oxford colleagues distrustful of me, and many

of my Oxford hearers contemptuous. My mother's death in 1871, and that

of a dear friend in 1875, took away the personal joy I had in anything I

wrote or designed: and in 1876, feeling unable for Oxford duty, I

obtained a year's leave of rest, and, by the kind and wise counsel of

Prince Leopold, went to Venice, to reconsider the form into which I had

cast her history in the abstract of it given in the "Stones of Venice."

The more true and close view of that history, begun in "St. Mark's

Rest," and the fresh architectural drawings made under the stimulus of

it, led me forward into new fields of thought, inconsistent with the

daily attendance needed by my Oxford classes; and in my discontent with

the state I saw them in, and my inability to return to their guidance

without abandonment of all my designs of Venetian and Italian history,

began the series of vexations which ended in the very nearly mortal

illness of 1878.

Since, therefore, the period of my effective action in Oxford was only

from 1870 to 1875, it can scarcely be matter of surprise or reproof that

I could not in that time obtain general trust in a system of teaching

which, though founded on that of Da Vinci and Reynolds, was at variance

with the practice of all recent European academy schools; nor

establish--on the unassisted resources of the Slade Professorship--the

schools of Sculpture, Architecture, Metal-work, and manuscript

Illumination, of which the design is confidently traced in the four

inaugural lectures.

In revising the book, I have indicated as in the last edition of the

"Seven Lamps," passages which the student will find generally

applicable, and in all their bearings useful, as distinguished from

those regarding only their immediate subject. The relative importance of

these broader statements, I again indicate by the use of capitals or

italics; and if the reader will index the sentences he finds useful for

his own work, in the blank pages left for that purpose at the close of

the volume, he will certainly get more good of them than if they had

been grouped for him according to the author's notion of their contents.

SANDGATE, _10th January, 1888_.

LECTURES ON ART

LECTURE I

INAUGURAL

1. The duty which is to-day laid on me, of introducing, among the

elements of education appointed in this great University, one not only

new, but such as to involve in its possible results some modification of

the rest, is, as you well feel, so grave, that no man could undertake it

without laying himself open to the imputation of a kind of insolence;

and no man could undertake it rightly, without being in danger of having

his hands shortened by dread of his task, and mistrust of himself.

And it has chanced to me, of late, to be so little acquainted either

with pride or hope, that I can scarcely recover so much as I now need,

of the one for strength, and of the other for foresight, except by

remembering that noble persons, and friends of the high temper that

judges most clearly where it loves best, have desired that this trust

should be given me: and by resting also in the conviction that the

goodly tree whose roots, by God's help, we set in earth to-day, will not

fail of its height because the planting of it is under poor auspices, or

the first shoots of it enfeebled by ill gardening.

2. The munificence of the English gentleman to whom we owe the founding

of this Professorship at once in our three great Universities, has

accomplished the first great group of a series of changes now taking

gradual effect in our system of public education, which, as you well

know, are the sign of a vital change in the national mind, respecting

both the principles on which that education should be conducted, and the

ranks of society to which it should extend. For, whereas it was formerly

thought that the discipline necessary to form the character of youth was

best given in the study of abstract branches of literature and

philosophy, it is now thought that the same, or a better, discipline may

be given by informing men in early years of the things it will be of

chief practical advantage to them afterwards to know; and by permitting

to them the choice of any field of study which they may feel to be best

adapted to their personal dispositions. I have always used what poor

influence I possessed in advancing this change; nor can any one rejoice

more than I in its practical results. But the completion--I will not

venture to say, correction--of a system established by the highest

wisdom of noble ancestors, cannot be too reverently undertaken: and it

is necessary for the English people, who are sometimes violent in change

in proportion to the reluctance with which they admit its necessity, to

be now, oftener than at other times, reminded that the object of

instruction here is not primarily attainment, but discipline; and that a

youth is sent to our Universities, not (hitherto at least) to be

apprenticed to a trade, nor even always to be advanced in a profession;

but, always, to be made a gentleman and a scholar.

3. To be made these,--if there is in him the making of either. The

populaces of civilised countries have lately been under a feverish

impression that it is possible for all men to be both; and that having

once become, by passing through certain mechanical processes of

instruction, gentle and learned, they are sure to attain in the sequel

the consummate beatitude of being rich.

Rich, in the way and measure in which it is well for them to be so, they

may, without doubt, _all_ become. There is indeed a land of Havilah open

to them, of which the wonderful sentence is literally true--"The gold of

_that_ land is good." But they must first understand, that education, in

its deepest sense, is not the equaliser, but the discerner, of men;[1]

and that, so far from being instruments for the collection of riches,

the first lesson of wisdom is to disdain them, and of gentleness, to

diffuse.

[Footnote 1: The full meaning of this sentence, and of that which closes

the paragraph, can only be understood by reference to my more developed

statements on the subject of Education in "Modern Painters" and in "Time

and Tide." The following fourth paragraph is the most pregnant summary

of my political and social principles I have ever been able to give.]

It is not therefore, as far as we can judge, yet possible for all men to

be gentlemen and scholars. Even under the best training some will remain

too selfish to refuse wealth, and some too dull to desire leisure. But

many more might be so than are now; nay, perhaps all men in England

might one day be so, if England truly desired her supremacy among the

nations to be in kindness and in learning. To which good end, it will

indeed contribute that we add some practice of the lower arts to our

scheme of University education; but the thing which is vitally necessary

is, that we should extend the spirit of University education to the

practice of the lower arts.

4. And, above all, it is needful that we do this by redeeming them from

their present pain of self-contempt, and by giving them _rest_. It has

been too long boasted as the pride of England, that out of a vast

multitude of men, confessed to be in evil case, it was possible for

individuals, by strenuous effort, and rare good fortune, occasionally to

emerge into the light, and look back with self-gratulatory scorn upon

the occupations of their parents, and the circumstances of their

infancy. Ought we not rather to aim at an ideal of national life, when,

of the employments of Englishmen, though each shall be distinct, none

shall be unhappy or ignoble; when mechanical operations, acknowledged to

be debasing in their tendency,[2] shall be deputed to less fortunate and

more covetous races; when advance from rank to rank, though possible to

all men, may be rather shunned than desired by the best; and the chief

object in the mind of every citizen may not be extrication from a

condition admitted to be disgraceful, but fulfilment of a duty which

shall be also a birthright?

[Footnote 2: "+technai epirrêtoi+," compare page 81.]

5. And then, the training of all these distinct classes will not be by

Universities of general knowledge, but by distinct schools of such

knowledge as shall be most useful for every class: in which, first the

principles of their special business may be perfectly taught, and

whatever higher learning, and cultivation of the faculties for receiving

and giving pleasure, may be properly joined with that labour, taught in

connection with it. Thus, I do not despair of seeing a School of

Agriculture, with its fully-endowed institutes of zoology, botany, and

chemistry; and a School of Mercantile Seamanship, with its institutes of

astronomy, meteorology, and natural history of the sea: and, to name

only one of the finer, I do not say higher, arts, we shall, I hope, in a

little time, have a perfect school of Metal-work, at the head of which

will be, not the ironmasters, but the goldsmiths: and therein, I

believe, that artists, being taught how to deal wisely with the most

precious of metals, will take into due government the uses of all

others.

But I must not permit myself to fail in the estimate of my immediate

duty, while I debate what that duty may hereafter become in the hands of

others; and I will therefore now, so far as I am able, lay before you a

brief general view of the existing state of the arts in England, and of

the influence which her Universities, through these newly-founded

lectureships, may, I hope, bring to bear upon it for good.

6. We have first to consider the impulse which has been given to the

practice of all the arts by the extension of our commerce, and enlarged

means of intercourse with foreign nations, by which we now become more

familiarly acquainted with their works in past and in present times. The

immediate result of these new opportunities, I regret to say, has been

to make us more jealous of the genius of others, than conscious of the

limitations of our own; and to make us rather desire to enlarge our

wealth by the sale of art, than to elevate our enjoyments by its

acquisition.

Now, whatever efforts we make, with a true desire to produce, and

possess, things that are intrinsically beautiful, have in them at least

one of the essential elements of success. But efforts having origin only

in the hope of enriching ourselves by the sale of our productions, are

_assuredly_ condemned to dishonourable failure; not because, ultimately,

a well-trained nation is forbidden to profit by the exercise of its

peculiar art-skill; but because that peculiar art-skill can never be

developed _with a view_ to profit. The right fulfilment of national

power in art depends always on THE DIRECTION OF ITS AIM BY THE

EXPERIENCE OF AGES. Self-knowledge is not less difficult, nor less

necessary for the direction of its genius, to a people than to an

individual; and it is neither to be acquired by the eagerness of

unpractised pride, nor during the anxieties of improvident distress. No

nation ever had, or will have, the power of suddenly developing, under

the pressure of necessity, faculties it had neglected when it was at

ease; nor of teaching itself in poverty, the skill to produce, what it

has never, in opulence, had the sense to admire.

7. Connected also with some of the worst parts of our social system, but

capable of being directed to better result than this commercial

endeavour, we see lately a most powerful impulse given to the production

of costly works of art, by the various causes which promote the sudden

accumulation of wealth in the hands of private persons. We have thus a

vast and new patronage, which, in its present agency, is injurious to

our schools; but which is nevertheless in a great degree earnest and

conscientious, and far from being influenced chiefly by motives of

ostentation. Most of our rich men would be glad to promote the true

interests of art in this country: and even those who buy for vanity,

found their vanity on the possession of what they suppose to be best.

It is therefore in a great measure the fault of artists themselves if

they suffer from this partly unintelligent, but thoroughly

well-intended, patronage. If they seek to attract it by eccentricity, to

deceive it by superficial qualities, or take advantage of it by

thoughtless and facile production, they necessarily degrade themselves

and it together, and have no right to complain afterwards that it will

not acknowledge better-grounded claims. But if every painter of real

power would do only what he knew to be worthy of himself, and refuse to

be involved in the contention for undeserved or accidental success,

there is indeed, whatever may have been thought or said to the contrary,

true instinct enough in the public mind to follow such firm guidance. It

is one of the facts which the experience of thirty years enables me to

assert without qualification, that a really good picture is ultimately

always approved and bought, unless it is wilfully rendered offensive to

the public by faults which the artist has been either too proud to

abandon or too weak to correct.

8. The development of whatever is healthful and serviceable in the two

modes of impulse which we have been considering, depends however,

ultimately, on the direction taken by the true interest in art which has

lately been aroused by the great and active genius of many of our

living, or but lately lost, painters, sculptors, and architects. It may

perhaps surprise, but I think it will please you to hear me, or (if you

will forgive me, in my own Oxford, the presumption of fancying that some

may recognise me by an old name) to hear the author of "Modern Painters"

say, that his chief error in earlier days was not in over estimating,

but in too slightly acknowledging the merit of living men. The great

painter whose power, while he was yet among us, I was able to perceive,

was the first to reprove me for my disregard of the skill of his

fellow-artists; and, with this inauguration of the study of the art of

all time,--a study which can only by true modesty end in wise

admiration,--it is surely well that I connect the record of these words

of his, spoken then too truly to myself, and true always more or less

for all who are untrained in that toil,--"You don't know how difficult

it is."

You will not expect me, within the compass of this lecture, to give you

any analysis of the many kinds of excellent art (in all the three great

divisions) which the complex demands of modern life, and yet more varied

instincts of modern genius, have developed for pleasure or service. It

must be my endeavour, in conjunction with my colleagues in the other

Universities, hereafter to enable you to appreciate these worthily; in

the hope that also the members of the Royal Academy, and those of the

Institute of British Architects, may be induced to assist, and guide,

the efforts of the Universities, by organising such a system of

art-education for their own students, as shall in future prevent the

waste of genius in any mistaken endeavours; especially removing doubt as

to the proper substance and use of materials; and requiring compliance

with certain elementary principles of right, in every picture and design

exhibited with their sanction. It is not indeed possible for talent so

varied as that of English artists to be compelled into the formalities

of a determined school; but it must certainly be the function of every

academical body to see that their younger students are guarded from what

must in every school be error; and that they are practised in the best

methods of work hitherto known, before their ingenuity is directed to

the invention of others.

9. I need scarcely refer, except for the sake of completeness in my

statement, to one form of demand for art which is wholly unenlightened,

and powerful only for evil;--namely, the demand of the classes occupied

solely in the pursuit of pleasure, for objects and modes of art that can

amuse indolence or excite passion. There is no need for any discussion

of these requirements, or of their forms of influence, though they are

very deadly at present in their operation on sculpture, and on

jewellers' work. They cannot be checked by blame, nor guided by

instruction; they are merely the necessary result of whatever defects

exist in the temper and principles of a luxurious society; and it is

only by moral changes, not by art-criticism, that their action can be

modified.

10. Lastly, there is a continually increasing demand for popular art,

multipliable by the printing-press, illustrative of daily events, of

general literature, and of natural science. Admirable skill, and some of

the best talent of modern times, are occupied in supplying this want;

and there is no limit to the good which may be effected by rightly

taking advantage of the powers we now possess of placing good and lovely

art within the reach of the poorest classes. Much has been already

accomplished; but great harm has been done also,--first, by forms of art

definitely addressed to depraved tastes; and, secondly, in a more subtle

way, by really beautiful and useful engravings which are yet not good

enough to retain their influence on the public mind;--which weary it by

redundant quantity of monotonous average excellence, and diminish or

destroy its power of accurate attention to work of a higher order.

Especially this is to be regretted in the effect produced on the schools

of line engraving, which had reached in England an executive skill of a

kind before unexampled, and which of late have lost much of their more

sterling and legitimate methods. Still, I have seen plates produced

quite recently, more beautiful, I think, in some qualities than anything

ever before attained by the burin: and I have not the slightest fear

that photography, or any other adverse or competitive operation, will in

the least ultimately diminish,--I believe they will, on the contrary,

stimulate and exalt--the grand old powers of the wood and the steel.

11. Such are, I think, briefly the present conditions of art with which

we have to deal; and I conceive it to be the function of this

Professorship, with respect to them, to establish both a practical and

critical school of fine art for English gentlemen: practical, so that if

they draw at all, they may draw rightly; and critical, so that being

first directed to such works of existing art as will best reward their

study, they may afterwards make their patronage of living artists

delightful to themselves in their consciousness of its justice, and, to

the utmost, beneficial to their country, by being given to the men who

deserve it; in the early period of their lives, when they both need it

most, and can be influenced by it to the best advantage.

12. And especially with reference to this function of patronage, I

believe myself justified in taking into account future probabilities as

to the character and range of art in England: and I shall endeavour at

once to organise with you a system of study calculated to develop

chiefly the knowledge of those branches in which the English schools

have shown, and are likely to show, peculiar excellence.

Now, in asking your sanction both for the nature of the general plans I

wish to adopt, and for what I conceive to be necessary limitations of

them, I wish you to be fully aware of my reasons for both: and I will

therefore risk the burdening of your patience while I state the

directions of effort in which I think English artists are liable to

failure, and those also in which past experience has shown they are

secure of success.

13. I referred, but now, to the effort we are making to improve the

designs of our manufactures. Within certain limits I believe this

improvement may indeed take effect: so that we may no more humour

momentary fashions by ugly results of chance instead of design; and may

produce both good tissues, of harmonious colours, and good forms and

substance of pottery and glass. But we shall never excel in decorative

design. Such design is usually produced by people of great natural

powers of mind, who have no variety of subjects to employ themselves on,

no oppressive anxieties, and are in circumstances either of natural

scenery or of daily life, which cause pleasurable excitement. _We_

cannot design, because we have too much to think of, and we think of it

too anxiously. It has long been observed how little real anxiety exists

in the minds of the partly savage races which excel in decorative art;

and we must not suppose that the temper of the Middle Ages was a

troubled one, because every day brought its danger or its change. The

very eventfulness of the life rendered it careless, as generally is

still the case with soldiers and sailors. Now, when there are great

powers of thought, and little to think of, all the waste energy and

fancy are thrown into the manual work, and you have so much intellect as

would direct the affairs of a large mercantile concern for a day, spent

all at once, quite unconsciously, in drawing an ingenious spiral.

Also, powers of doing fine ornamental work are only to be reached by a

perpetual discipline of the hand as well as of the fancy; discipline as

attentive and painful as that which a juggler has to put himself

through, to overcome the more palpable difficulties of his profession.

The execution of the best artists is always a splendid tour-de-force;

and much that in painting is supposed to be dependent on material is

indeed only a lovely and quite inimitable legerdemain. Now, when powers

of fancy, stimulated by this triumphant precision of manual dexterity,

descend uninterruptedly from generation to generation, you have at last,

what is not so much a trained artist, as a new species of animal, with

whose instinctive gifts you have no chance of contending. And thus all

our imitations of other people's work are futile. We must learn first to

make honest English wares, and afterwards to decorate them as may please

the then approving Graces.

14. Secondly--and this is an incapacity of a graver kind, yet having its

own good in it also--we shall never be successful in the highest fields

of ideal or theological art.

For there is one strange, but quite essential, character in us: ever

since the Conquest, if not earlier:--a delight in the forms of burlesque

which are connected in some degree with the foulness of evil. I think

the most perfect type of a true English mind in its best possible

temper, is that of Chaucer; and you will find that, while it is for the

most part full of thoughts of beauty, pure and wild like that of an

April morning, there are even in the midst of this, sometimes

momentarily jesting passages which stoop to play with evil--while the

power of listening to and enjoying the jesting of entirely gross

persons, whatever the feeling may be which permits it, afterwards

degenerates into forms of humour which render some of quite the

greatest, wisest, and most moral of English writers now almost useless

for our youth. And yet you will find that whenever Englishmen are wholly

without this instinct, their genius is comparatively weak and

restricted.

15. Now, the first necessity for the doing of any great work in ideal

art, is the looking upon all foulness with horror, as a contemptible

though dreadful enemy. You may easily understand what I mean, by

comparing the feelings with which Dante regards any form of obscenity or

of base jest, with the temper in which the same things are regarded by

Shakespeare. And this strange earthly instinct of ours, coupled as it

is, in our good men, with great simplicity and common sense, renders

them shrewd and perfect observers and delineators of actual nature, low

or high; but precludes them from that specialty of art which is properly

called sublime. If ever we try anything in the manner of Michael Angelo

or of Dante, we catch a fall, even in literature, as Milton in the

battle of the angels, spoiled from Hesiod; while in art, every attempt

in this style has hitherto been the sign either of the presumptuous

egotism of persons who had never really learned to be workmen, or it has

been connected with very tragic forms of the contemplation of death,--it

has always been partly insane, and never once wholly successful.

But we need not feel any discomfort in these limitations of our

capacity. We can do much that others cannot, and more than we have ever

yet ourselves completely done. Our first great gift is in the

portraiture of living people--a power already so accomplished in both

Reynolds and Gainsborough that nothing is left for future masters but to

add the calm of perfect workmanship to their vigour and felicity of

perception. And of what value a true school of portraiture may become in

the future, when worthy men will desire only to be known, and others

will not fear to know them, for what they truly were, we cannot from

any past records of art influence yet conceive. But in my next address

it will be partly my endeavour to show you how much more useful, because

more humble, the labour of great masters might have been, had they been

content to bear record of the souls that were dwelling with them on

earth, instead of striving to give a deceptive glory to those they

dreamed of in heaven.

16. Secondly, we have an intense power of invention and expression in

domestic drama; (King Lear and Hamlet being essentially domestic in

their strongest motives of interest). There is a tendency at this moment

towards a noble development of our art in this direction, checked by

many adverse conditions, which may be summed in one,--the insufficiency

of generous civic or patriotic passion in the heart of the English

people; a fault which makes its domestic affection selfish, contracted,

and, therefore, frivolous.

17. Thirdly, in connection with our simplicity and good-humour, and

partly with that very love of the grotesque which debases our ideal, we

have a sympathy with the lower animals which is peculiarly our own; and

which, though it has already found some exquisite expression in the

works of Bewick and Landseer, is yet quite undeveloped. This sympathy,

with the aid of our now authoritative science of physiology, and in

association with our British love of adventure, will, I hope, enable us

to give to the future inhabitants of the globe an almost perfect record

of the present forms of animal life upon it, of which many are on the

point of being extinguished.

Lastly, but not as the least important of our special powers, I have to

note our skill in landscape, of which I will presently speak more

particularly.

18. Such I conceive to be the directions in which, principally, we have

the power to excel; and you must at once see how the consideration of

them must modify the advisable methods of our art study. For if our

professional painters were likely to produce pieces of art loftily ideal

in their character, it would be desirable to form the taste of the

students here by setting before them only the purest examples of Greek,

and the mightiest of Italian, art. But I do not think you will yet find

a single instance of a school directed exclusively to these higher

branches of study in England, which has strongly, or even definitely,

made impression on its younger scholars. While, therefore, I shall

endeavour to point out clearly the characters to be looked for and

admired in the great masters of imaginative design, I shall make no

special effort to stimulate the imitation of them; and above all things,

I shall try to probe in you, and to prevent, the affectation into which

it is easy to fall, even through modesty,--of either endeavouring to

admire a grandeur with which we have no natural sympathy, or losing the

pleasure we might take in the study of familiar things, by considering

it a sign of refinement to look for what is of higher class, or rarer

occurrence.

19. Again, if our artisans were likely to attain any distinguished skill

in ornamental design, it would be incumbent upon me to make my class

here accurately acquainted with the principles of earth and metal work,

and to accustom them to take pleasure in conventional arrangements of

colour and form. I hope, indeed, to do this, so far as to enable them to

discern the real merit of many styles of art which are at present

neglected; and, above all, to read the minds of semi-barbaric nations in

the only language by which their feelings were capable of expression;

and those members of my class whose temper inclines them to take

pleasure in the interpretation of mythic symbols, will not probably be

induced to quit the profound fields of investigation which early art,

examined carefully, will open to them, and which belong to it alone: for

this is a general law, that supposing the intellect of the workman the

same, the more imitatively complete his art, the less he will mean by

it; and the ruder the symbol, the deeper is its intention. Nevertheless,

when I have once sufficiently pointed out the nature and value of this

conventional work, and vindicated it from the contempt with which it is

too generally regarded, I shall leave the student to his own pleasure in

its pursuit; and even, so far as I may, discourage all admiration

founded on quaintness or peculiarity of style; and repress any other

modes of feeling which are likely to lead rather to fastidious

collection of curiosities, than to the intelligent appreciation of work

which, being executed in compliance with constant laws of right, cannot

be singular, and must be distinguished only by excellence in what is

always desirable.

20. While, therefore, in these and such other directions, I shall

endeavour to put every adequate means of advance within reach of the

members of my class, I shall use my own best energy to show them what is

consummately beautiful and well done, by men who have passed through the

symbolic or suggestive stage of design, and have enabled themselves to

comply, by truth of representation, with the strictest or most eager

demands of accurate science, and of disciplined passion. I shall

therefore direct your observation, during the greater part of the time

you may spare to me, to what is indisputably best, both in painting and

sculpture; trusting that you will afterwards recognise the nascent and

partial skill of former days both with greater interest and greater

respect, when you know the full difficulty of what it attempted, and the

complete range of what it foretold.

21. And with this view, I shall at once endeavour to do what has for

many years been in my thoughts, and now, with the advice and assistance

of the curators of the University Galleries, I do not doubt may be

accomplished here in Oxford, just where it will be preëminently

useful--namely, to arrange an educational series of examples of

excellent art, standards to which you may at once refer on any

questionable point, and by the study of which you may gradually attain

an instinctive sense of right, which will afterwards be liable to no

serious error. Such a collection may be formed, both more perfectly, and

more easily, than would commonly be supposed. For the real utility of

the series will depend on its restricted extent,--on the severe

exclusion of all second-rate, superfluous, or even attractively varied

examples,--and On the confining the students' attention to a few types

of what is insuperably good. More progress in power of judgment may be

made in a limited time by the examination of one work, than by the

review of many; and a certain degree of vitality is given to the

impressiveness of every characteristic, by its being exhibited in clear

contrast, and without repetition.

The greater number of the examples I shall choose will be only

engravings or photographs: they shall be arranged so as to be easily

accessible, and I will prepare a catalogue, pointing out my purpose in

the selection of each. But in process of time, I have good hope that

assistance will be given me by the English public in making the series

here no less splendid than serviceable; and in placing minor

collections, arranged on a similar principle, at the command also of the

students in our public schools.

22. In the second place, I shall endeavour to prevail upon all the

younger members of the University who wish to attend the art lectures,

to give at least so much time to manual practice as may enable them to

understand the nature and difficulty of executive skill. The time so

spent will not be lost, even as regards their other studies at the

University, for I will prepare the practical exercises in a double

series, one illustrative of history, the other of natural science. And

whether you are drawing a piece of Greek armour, or a hawk's beak, or a

lion's paw, you will find that the mere necessity of using the hand

compels attention to circumstances which would otherwise have escaped

notice, and fastens them in the memory without farther effort. But were

it even otherwise, and this practical training did really involve some

sacrifice of your time, I do not fear but that it will be justified to

you by its felt results: and I think that general public feeling is also

tending to the admission that accomplished education must include, not

only full command of expression by language, but command of true musical

sound by the voice, and of true form by the hand.

23. While I myself hold this professorship, I shall direct you in these

exercises very definitely to natural history, and to landscape; not only

because in these two branches I am probably able to show you truths

which might be despised by my successors: but because I think the vital

and joyful study of natural history quite the principal element

requiring introduction, not only into University, but into national,

education, from highest to lowest; and I even will risk incurring your

ridicule by confessing one of my fondest dreams, that I may succeed in

making some of you English youths like better to look at a bird than to

shoot it; and even desire to make wild creatures tame, instead of tame

creatures wild. And for the study of landscape, it is, I think, now

calculated to be of use in deeper, if not more important modes, than

that of natural science, for reasons which I will ask you to let me

state at some length.

24. Observe first;--no race of men which is entirely bred in wild

country, far from cities, ever enjoys landscape. They may enjoy the

beauty of animals, but scarcely even that: a true peasant cannot see the

beauty of cattle; but only qualities expressive of their

serviceableness. I waive discussion of this to-day; permit my assertion

of it, under my confident guarantee of future proof. Landscape can only

be enjoyed by cultivated persons; and it is only by music, literature,

and painting, that cultivation can be given. Also, the faculties which

are thus received are hereditary; so that the child of an educated race

has an innate instinct for beauty, derived from arts practised hundreds

of years before its birth. Now farther note this, one of the loveliest

things in human nature. In the children of noble races, trained by

surrounding art, and at the same time in the practice of great deeds,

there is an intense delight in the landscape of their country as

_memorial_; a sense not taught to them, nor teachable to any others;

but, in them, innate; and the seal and reward of persistence in great

national life;--the obedience and the peace of ages having extended

gradually the glory of the revered ancestors also to the ancestral

land; until the Motherhood of the dust, the mystery of the Demeter from

whose bosom we came, and to whose bosom we return, surrounds and

inspires, everywhere, the local awe of field and fountain; the

sacredness of landmark that none may remove, and of wave that none may

pollute; while records of proud days, and of dear persons, make every

rock monumental with ghostly inscription, and every path lovely with

noble desolateness.

25. Now, however checked by lightness of temperament, the instinctive

love of landscape in us has this deep root, which, in your minds, I will

pray you to disencumber from whatever may oppress or mortify it, and to

strive to feel with all the strength of your youth that a nation is only

worthy of the soil and the scenes that it has inherited, when, by all

its acts and arts, it is making them more lovely for its children.

And now, I trust, you will feel that it is not in mere yielding to my

own fancies that I have chosen, for the first three subjects in your

educational series, landscape scenes;--two in England, and one in

France,--the association of these being not without purpose:--and for

the fourth Albert Dürer's dream of the Spirit of Labour. And of the

landscape subjects, I must tell you this much. The first is an engraving

only; the original drawing by Turner was destroyed by fire twenty years

ago. For which loss I wish you to be sorry, and to remember, in

connection with this first example, that whatever remains to us of

possession in the arts is, compared to what we might have had if we had

cared for them, just what that engraving is to the lost drawing. You

will find also that its subject has meaning in it which will not be

harmful to you. The second example is a real drawing by Turner, in the

same series, and very nearly of the same place; the two scenes are

within a quarter of a mile of each other. It will show you the character

of the work that was destroyed. It will show you, in process of time,

much more; but chiefly, and this is my main reason for choosing both, it

will be a permanent expression to you of what English landscape was

once;--and must, if we are to remain a nation, be again.

I think it farther right to tell you, for otherwise you might hardly pay

regard enough to work apparently so simple, that by a chance which is

not altogether displeasing to me, this drawing, which it has become, for

these reasons, necessary for me to give you, is--not indeed the best I

have, (I have several as good, though none better)--but, of all I have,

the one I had least mind to part with.

The third example is also a Turner drawing--a scene on the Loire--never

engraved. It is an introduction to the series of the Loire, which you

have already; it has in its present place a due concurrence with the

expressional purpose of its companions; and though small, it is very

precious, being a faultless, and, I believe, unsurpassable example of

water-colour painting.

Chiefly, however, remember the object of these three first examples is

to give you an index to your truest feelings about European, and

especially about your native landscape, as it is pensive and historical;

and so far as you yourselves make any effort at its representation, to

give you a motive for fidelity in handwork more animating than any

connected with mere success in the art itself.

26. With respect to actual methods of practice, I will not incur the

responsibility of determining them for you. We will take Lionardo's

treatise on painting for our first text-book; and I think you need not

fear being misled by me if I ask you to do only what Lionardo bids, or

what will be necessary to enable you to do his bidding. But you need not

possess the book, nor read it through. I will translate the pieces to

the authority of which I shall appeal; and, in process of time, by

analysis of this fragmentary treatise, show you some characters not

usually understood of the simplicity as well as subtlety common to most

great workmen of that age. Afterwards we will collect the instructions

of other undisputed masters, till we have obtained a code of laws

clearly resting on the consent of antiquity.

While, however, I thus in some measure limit for the present the methods

of your practice, I shall endeavour to make the courses of my University

lectures as wide in their range as my knowledge will permit. The range

so conceded will be narrow enough; but I believe that my proper function

is not to acquaint you with the general history, but with the essential

principles of art; and with its history only when it has been both great

and good, or where some special excellence of it requires examination of

the causes to which it must be ascribed.

27. But if either our work, or our enquiries, are to be indeed

successful in their own field, they must be connected with others of a

sterner character. Now listen to me, if I have in these past details

lost or burdened your attention; for this is what I have chiefly to say

to you. The art of any country is _the exponent of its social and

political virtues_. I will show you that it is so in some detail, in the

second of my subsequent course of lectures; meantime accept this as one

of the things, and the most important of all things, I can positively

declare to you. The art, or general productive and formative energy, of

any country, is an exact exponent of its ethical life. You can have

noble art only from noble persons, associated under laws fitted to their

time and circumstances. And the best skill that any teacher of art could

spend here in your help, would not end in enabling you even so much as

rightly to draw the water-lilies in the Cherwell (and though it did, the

work when done would not be worth the lilies themselves) unless both he

and you were seeking, as I trust we shall together seek, in the laws

which regulate the finest industries, the clue to the laws which

regulate _all_ industries, and in better obedience to which we shall

actually have henceforward to live: not merely in compliance with our

own sense of what is right, but under the weight of quite literal

necessity. For the trades by which the British people has believed it to

be the highest of destinies to maintain itself, cannot now long remain

undisputed in its hands; its unemployed poor are daily becoming more

violently criminal; and a certain distress in the middle classes,

arising, _partly from their vanity in living always up to their incomes,

and partly from their folly in imagining that they can subsist in

idleness upon usury_, will at last compel the sons and daughters of

English families to acquaint themselves with the principles of

providential economy; and to learn that food can only be got out of the

ground, and competence only secured by frugality; and that although it

is not possible for all to be occupied in the highest arts, nor for any,

guiltlessly, to pass their days in a succession of pleasures, the most

perfect mental culture possible to men is founded on their useful

energies, and their best arts and brightest happiness are consistent,

and consistent only, with their virtue.

28. This, I repeat, gentlemen, will soon become manifest to those among

us, and there are yet many, who are honest-hearted. And the future fate

of England depends upon the position they then take, and on their

courage in maintaining it.

There is a destiny now possible to us--the highest ever set before a

nation to be accepted or refused. We are still undegenerate in race; a

race mingled of the best northern blood. We are not yet dissolute in

temper, but still have the firmness to govern, and the grace to obey. We

have been taught a religion of pure mercy, which we must either now

betray, or learn to defend by fulfilling. And we are rich in an

inheritance of honour, bequeathed to us through a thousand years of

noble history, which it should be our daily thirst to increase with

splendid avarice, so that Englishmen, if it be a sin to covet honour,

should be the most offending souls alive. Within the last few years we

have had the laws of natural science opened to us with a rapidity which

has been blinding by its brightness; and means of transit and

communication given to us, which have made but one kingdom of the

habitable globe. One kingdom;--but who is to be its king? Is there to be

no king in it, think you, and every man to do that which is right in his

own eyes? Or only kings of terror, and the obscene empires of Mammon

and Belial? Or will you, youths of England, make your country again a

royal throne of kings; a sceptred isle, for all the world a source of

light, a centre of peace; mistress of Learning and of the

Arts;--faithful guardian of great memories in the midst of irreverent

and ephemeral visions;--faithful servant of time-tried principles, under

temptation from fond experiments and licentious desires; and amidst the

cruel and clamorous jealousies of the nations, worshipped in her strange

valour of goodwill towards men?

29. "Vexilla regis prodeunt." Yes, but of which king? There are the two

oriflammes; which shall we plant on the farthest islands,--the one that

floats in heavenly fire, or that hangs heavy with foul tissue of

terrestrial gold? There is indeed a course of beneficent glory open to

us, such as never was yet offered to any poor group of mortal souls. But

it must be--it _is_ with us, now, "Reign or Die." And if it shall be

said of this country, "Fece per viltate, il gran rifiuto;" that refusal

of the crown will be, of all yet recorded in history, the shamefullest

and most untimely.

And this is what she must either do, or perish: she must found colonies

as fast and as far as she is able, formed of her most energetic and

worthiest men;--seizing every piece of fruitful waste ground she can set

her foot on, and there teaching these her colonists that their chief

virtue is to be fidelity to their country, and that their first aim is

to be to advance the power of England by land and sea: and that, though

they live on a distant plot of ground, they are no more to consider

themselves therefore disfranchised from their native land, than the

sailors of her fleets do, because they float on distant waves. So that

literally, these colonies must be fastened fleets; and every man of them

must be under authority of captains and officers, whose better command

is to be over fields and streets instead of ships of the line; and

England, in these her motionless navies (or, in the true and mightiest

sense, motionless _churches_, ruled by pilots on the Galilean lake of

all the world), is to "expect every man to do his duty;" recognising

that duty is indeed possible no less in peace than war; and that if we

can get men, for little pay, to cast themselves against cannon-mouths

for love of England, we may find men also who will plough and sow for

her, who will behave kindly and righteously for her, who will bring up

their children to love her, and who will gladden themselves in the

brightness of her glory, more than in all the light of tropic skies.

Lectures on Art, Delivered Before the University of Oxford in Hilary Term, 1870 · 第 1 / 11 段