The Crown of Wild Olive
assumed that the fancies are just and beautiful, though fictitious. Now,
what right have any of us to assume that our own fancies will assuredly
be either the one or the other? That they delight us, and appear lovely
to us, is no real proof of its not being wasted time to form them: and
we may surely be led somewhat to distrust our judgment of them by
observing what ignoble imaginations have sometimes sufficiently, or even
enthusiastically, occupied the hearts of others. The principal source of
the spirit of religious contemplation is the East; now I have here in my
hand a Byzantine image of Christ, which, if you will look at it
seriously, may, I think, at once and for ever render you cautious in the
indulgence of a merely contemplative habit of mind. Observe, it is the
fashion to look at such a thing only as a piece of barbarous art; that
is the smallest part of its interest. What I want you to see, is the
baseness and falseness of a religious state of enthusiasm, in which such
a work could be dwelt upon with pious pleasure. That a figure, with two
small round black beads for eyes; a gilded face, deep cut into horrible
wrinkles; an open gash for a mouth, and a distorted skeleton for a body,
wrapped about, to make it fine, with striped enamel of blue and
gold;--that such a figure, I say, should ever have been thought helpful
towards the conception of a Redeeming Deity, may make you, I think, very
doubtful, even of the Divine approval,--much more of the Divine
inspiration,--of religious reverie in general. You feel, doubtless, that
your own idea of Christ would be something very different from this; but
in what does the difference consist? Not in any more divine authority in
your imagination; but in the intellectual work of six intervening
centuries; which, simply, by artistic discipline, has refined this crude
conception for you, and filled you, partly with an innate sensation,
partly with an acquired knowledge, of higher forms,--which render this
Byzantine crucifix as horrible to you, as it was pleasing to its maker.
More is required to excite your fancy; but your fancy is of no more
authority than his was: and a point of national art-skill is quite
conceivable, in which the best we can do now will be as offensive to the
religious dreamers of the more highly cultivated time, as this Byzantine
crucifix is to you.
MARY. But surely, Angelico will always retain his power over everybody?
L. Yes, I should think, always; as the gentle words of a child will: but
you would be much surprised, Mary, if you thoroughly took the pains to
analyse, and had the perfect means of analysing, that power of
Angelico,--to discover its real sources. Of course it is natural, at
first, to attribute it to the pure religious fervour by which he was
inspired; but do you suppose Angelico was really the only monk, in all
the Christian world of the middle ages, who laboured, in art, with a
sincere religious enthusiasm?
MARY. No, certainly not.
L. Anything more frightful, more destructive of all religious faith
whatever, than such a supposition, could not be. And yet, what other
monk ever produced such work? I have myself examined carefully upwards
of two thousand illuminated missals, with especial view to the discovery
of any evidence of a similar result upon the art, from the monkish
devotion; and utterly in vain.
MARY. But then, was not Fra Angelico a man of entirely separate and
exalted genius?
L. Unquestionably; and granting him to be that, the peculiar phenomenon
in his art is, to me, not its loveliness, but its weakness. The effect
of 'inspiration,' had it been real, on a man of consummate genius,
should have been, one would have thought, to make everything that he did
faultless and strong, no less than lovely. But of all men, deserving to
be called 'great,' Fra Angelico permits to himself the least pardonable
faults, and the most palpable follies. There is evidently within him a
sense of grace, and power of invention, as great as Ghiberti's:--we are
in the habit of attributing those high qualities to his religious
enthusiasm; but, if they were produced by that enthusiasm in him, they
ought to be produced by the same feelings in others; and we see they
are not. Whereas, comparing him with contemporary great artists, of
equal grace and invention, one peculiar character remains notable in
him--which, logically, we ought therefore to attribute to the religious
fervour;--and that distinctive character is, the contented indulgence of
his own weaknesses, and perseverance in his own ignorances.
MARY. But that's dreadful! And what _is_ the source of the peculiar
charm which we all feel in his work?
L. There are many sources of it, Mary; united and seeming like one. You
would never feel that charm but in the work of an entirely good man; be
sure of that; but the goodness is only the recipient and modifying
element, not the creative one. Consider carefully what delights you in
any original picture of Angelico's. You will find, for one minor thing,
an exquisite variety and brightness of ornamental work. That is not
Angelico's inspiration. It is the final result of the labour and thought
of millions of artists, of all nations; from the earliest Egyptian
potters downwards--Greeks, Byzantines, Hindoos, Arabs, Gauls, and
Northmen--all joining in the toil; and consummating it in Florence, in
that century, with such embroidery of robe and inlaying of armour as had
never been seen till then; nor, probably, ever will be seen more.
Angelico merely takes his share of this inheritance, and applies it in
the tenderest way to subjects which are peculiarly acceptant of it. But
the inspiration, if it exist anywhere, flashes on the knight's shield
quite as radiantly as on the monk's picture. Examining farther into the
sources of your emotion in the Angelico work, you will find much of the
impression of sanctity dependent on a singular repose and grace of
gesture, consummating itself in the floating, flying, and above all, in
the dancing groups. That is not Angelico's inspiration. It is only a
peculiarly tender use of systems of grouping which had been long before
developed by Giotto, Memmi, and Orcagna; and the real root of it all is
simply--What do you think, children? The beautiful dancing of the
Florentine maidens!
DORA (_indignant again_). Now, I wonder what next! Why not say it all
depended on Herodias' daughter, at once?
L. Yes; it is certainly a great argument against singing, that there
were once sirens.
DORA. Well, it may be all very fine and philosophical, but shouldn't I
just like to read you the end of the second volume of 'Modern Painters'!
L. My dear, do you think any teacher could be worth your listening to,
or anybody else's listening to, who had learned nothing, and altered his
mind in nothing, from seven and twenty to seven and forty? But that
second volume is very good for you as far as it goes. It is a great
advance, and a thoroughly straight and swift one, to be led, as it is
the main business of that second volume to lead you, from Dutch cattle
pieces, and ruffian-pieces, to Fra Angelico. And it is right for you
also, as you grow older, to be strengthened in the general sense and
judgment which may enable you to distinguish the weaknesses from the
virtues of what you love: else you might come to love both alike; or
even the weaknesses without the virtues. You might end by liking
Overbeck and Cornelius as well as Angelico. However, I have perhaps been
leaning a little too much to the merely practical side of things, in
to-night's talk; and you are always to remember, children, that I do not
deny, though I cannot affirm, the spiritual advantages resulting, in
certain cases, from enthusiastic religious reverie, and from the other
practices of saints and anchorites. The evidence respecting them has
never yet been honestly collected, much less dispassionately examined:
but assuredly, there is in that direction a probability, and more than a
probability, of dangerous error, while there is none whatever in the
practice of an active, cheerful, and benevolent life. The hope of
attaining a higher religious position, which induces us to encounter,
for its exalted alternative, the risk of unhealthy error, is often, as I
said, founded more on pride than piety; and those who, in modest
usefulness, have accepted what seemed to them here the lowliest place in
the kingdom of their Father, are not, I believe, the least likely to
receive hereafter the command, then unmistakable, 'Friend, go up
higher.'
LECTURE VIII.
_CRYSTAL CAPRICE._
_Formal Lecture in Schoolroom, after some practical examination of
minerals._
L. We have seen enough, children, though very little of what might be
seen if we had more time, of mineral structures produced by visible
opposition, or contest among elements; structures of which the variety,
however great, need not surprise us: for we quarrel, ourselves, for many
and slight causes;--much more, one should think, may crystals, who can
only feel the antagonism, not argue about it. But there is a yet more
singular mimicry of our human ways in the varieties of form which appear
owing to no antagonistic force; but merely to the variable humour and
caprice of the crystals themselves: and I have asked you all to come
into the schoolroom to-day, because, of course, this is a part of the
crystal mind which must be peculiarly interesting to a feminine
audience. (_Great symptoms of disapproval on the part of said
audience._) Now, you need not pretend that it will not interest you; why
should it not? It is true that we men are never capricious; but that
only makes us the more dull and disagreeable. You, who are crystalline
in brightness, as well as in caprice, charm infinitely, by infinitude of
change. (_Audible murmurs of 'Worse and worse!' 'As if we could be got
over that way!' &c. The_ LECTURER, _however, observing the expression of
the features to be more complacent, proceeds._) And the most curious
mimicry, if not of your changes of fashion, at least of your various
modes (in healthy periods) of national costume, takes place among the
crystals of different countries. With a little experience, it is quite
possible to say at a glance, in what districts certain crystals have
been found; and although, if we had knowledge extended and accurate
enough, we might of course ascertain the laws and circumstances which
have necessarily produced the form peculiar to each locality, this would
be just as true of the fancies of the human mind. If we could know the
exact circumstances which affect it, we could foretell what now seems to
us only caprice of thought, as well as what now seems to us only caprice
of crystal: nay, so far as our knowledge reaches, it is on the whole
easier to find some reason why the peasant girls of Berne should wear
their caps in the shape of butterflies; and the peasant girls of Munich
their's in the shape of shells, than to say why the rock-crystals of
Dauphine should all have their summits of the shape of lip-pieces of
flageolets, while those of St. Gothard are symmetrical; or why the fluor
of Chamouni is rose-coloured, and in octahedrons, while the fluor of
Weardale is green, and in cubes. Still farther removed is the hope, at
present, of accounting for minor differences in modes of grouping and
construction. Take, for instance, the caprices of this single mineral,
quartz;--variations upon a single theme. It has many forms; but see what
it will make out of this _one_, the six-sided prism. For shortness'
sake, I shall call the body of the prism its 'column,' and the pyramid
at the extremities its 'cap.' Now, here, first you have a straight
column, as long and thin as a stalk of asparagus, with two little caps