Art is closely allied to nature in giving impress to character. The
scenery by which a people is surrounded, will modify and almost control
its mode of being. The soft, rich landscapes of Italy enervate, while
the rough mountainous country of the North imparts force and vigor.
Mountains and seas are nature's healthful stimulants. Man grows in their
vastness and is energized in their strength. Whatever may be the scenery
of a people, it will mirror itself in the mind, and stamp its impress
upon character.
Art reproduces nature, arranging its illimitable stores in closer unity,
idealizing its charms, and bringing into nearer view its symmetry and
beauty. Bearing its lessons from afar, it colors the glowing canvas and
chisels the stone to awaken the impressions it designs to make on the
human soul. Thus art, like nature, becomes a means of culture. When the
Lombards wished to give hardihood and system to the enervated body and
enfeebled mind of the people, they covered their churches with the
sculptured representation of vigorous bodily exercises, such as war and
hunting. In the great church of St. Mark, at Venice, people were taught
the history of the Scriptures by means of imagery; a picture on the
walls being more easily read than a chapter. Such walls were styled the
poor man's Bible.
A picture reveals at a single glance that which we would be otherwise
forced to glean by a slow process from the scattered material furnished
by the printed page; hence the delight taken in illustrations, the
importance of pictorial instruction for the young, and the almost
universal demand for the illustrated publications of the day.
The teaching of art through painting, sculpture, and engraving, finds
its way into our homes, and while lessons may be duly read from books
and then laid aside, the lessons in the niche or on the wall repeat
themselves hour by hour, and day by day, looking even into the pure eyes
of infancy, and aiding in the formation of the character of every child
subjected to their ceaseless influence. Their power is none the less
because they never break the home-silence; they mould the young life and
stamp their impress upon it. How important then that all such objects
should be chosen, not only as treasures of artistic beauty, but for
their power to elevate and ennoble character.
How often will you find in the room of the scholar, the studio of the
artist, the picture or bust of some old master in art or letters, as if
the occupant were conscious of the incentive such presence offered to
his own efforts--the guardian genius of the spot.
In the study of one of the old divines might have been seen a painted
eye, gazing forever down upon him, to render him sensible of the
presence of the All-Seeing--to stamp the 'Thou God seest me' upon the
very tablets of his heart.
A child is not so readily tempted into sin when surrounded by pure and
beautiful imagery, or when gentle loving eyes are looking down upon him.
On the other hand, the walls of the degraded are lined with amorous and
obscene images, that vicious habits and debased tastes may find their
suitable incentives.
A window shade bearing the design of a little girl issuing, basket in
hand, from the door of a humble cottage, to relieve the wants of a poor
blind beggar, will certainly take its place among the early developments
of the children growing up under its influence, and in their simple
charity they may be found, basket in hand, looking out for real or
fancied beggars. Such lessons are never lost. In a parlor which I often
frequent is a picture of a Sabbath scene: an aged grand-sire is seated
by a table on which lies an open Bible, a bright-eyed boy is opposite,
his father and mother on either side, a little shy girl is on the knee
of the old man, all are listening reverently to the holy Word of God,
books and a vase of gay flowers are on the table, green boughs fill the
great old-fashioned fireplace. The whole picture wears an air of
serenity and calm happiness, and is an impressive plea that we 'remember
and keep holy the Sabbath day'--and we verily believe that such a
picture will do more to influence our children to love the Sabbath, than
any amount of parental restraint or lectures on moral obligation.
There is another picture in the same quiet room: 'The Mother's Dream.'
She is worn with watching, and lies dreaming beside the couch of the
child. Rays of light open a bright pathway into the skies, while an
angel is bearing the spirit child along it up to heaven. We think such a
picture is worth more to familiarize childhood with death and
resurrection, and will leave a sweeter and more lasting impression upon
the young soul, than the most learned dissertation or simplest
explanation.
Landscape painting exerts a mellowing influence, and leads to the
observation and love of nature, while historical pictures stimulate
research, and nerve the mind to deeds of heroism and virtue.
The influence of pictures in forming character and shaping the course of
life is illustrated with peculiar power in the history of the sons of a
quiet family in the interior, who all insisted upon going to sea. The
parents were grieved that none of their boys would remain at home to
care for the homestead, and be the comfort of their declining years.
They expressed their disappointment to a friend then on a visit to them,
and wondered what could have induced the boys, one after the other, to
embrace a life so full of storm and danger. Directly over the open
fireplace hung a picture of a vessel with fluttering, snowy sails,
tossing and rocking amid the bright, green, yeasty waves. The friend saw
it, read the mystery, and quietly inquired how long it had been there.
'Since we commenced housekeeping,' was the unconscious reply. Not
wishing to wound them, he was silent, and concealed his thoughts in his
own breast, but the solution of the choice of life in the absent ones
was clear enough to him: _that picture had sent them off, one after
another, to sea_.
How careful we should then be in surrounding youth and childhood with
pure, elevating objects of art, as means of constant home-culture! We
know we shall be told, 'This is all very good, but we cannot afford it.'
Let us reason together. Can you not deduct something from your elaborate
furniture, your expensive dress, and devote it to models, lithographs,
or paintings? Subtract but the half from these luxuries and devote the
sum to designs of art, and you will contribute doubly to the
attractiveness and pleasantness of your home. Where we cannot hope to
possess the original masterpiece, we may have photographic or
lithographic copies, which are within the compass of very humble means.
You will freely toss away five dollars in useless embroidery or surplus
furniture, and it would buy you a lithograph of Raphael's immortal
picture, giving the results of a whole age of artistic culture, or a
photograph of Cheney's Madonna and Child, bearing the very spirit of the
original, or a plaster cast of noble statuary, the original of which
could not be obtained for any namable sum--and yet you say you cannot
afford works of art!
There is surely nothing you can afford better than to make your home
attractive, and to introduce therein every available means of mental and
moral culture. If you cannot afford to make home lovely, others will
succeed in making dangerous places attractive to your children. There
are spots enough kept light and picturesque, perilously fascinating to
those whose homes boast no attractions. It will likely cost you far more
in money, more surely in heart-anguish and sorrow, to have your children
entertained in these places full of snares, where corrupt art lavishes
her designs with unsparing hand, to vitiate the young imagination and
debase the mind, than to exalt her in her chaste and ennobling power in
the sanctuary of your homes, as one of the means of home-culture,
stimulating to virtue and stamping the character with genuine worth.