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Yale Center for British Art and British Studies

TEN LECTURES ON ART,

LECTURES ON ART

EDWARD J. POYNTER, R.A.
•' '11 '
DIRECTOR FOR ART, SCIENCE AND ART DEPARTMENT
LATE 6LADE PROFESSOR, UNIVERSITY COLLEGE

THIRD EDITION

LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL
Limited i88s
\All rights reserved^

Richard Clay & Sons,
bread STREET HILL, LONDON, 1
AnA at Bttn£ay, Suffolk^

giirkatib

SIR FREDERICK LEIGHTON, RRA

PREFACE.
It is rather through the accident of my having been
offered the Slade Professorship at University College
than through any conviction on my part that I had a
call to instruct the public by my pen, that the ten lectures
which compose this book came to be written. The first
of the series, it is true, was deHvered at the college before
my appointment there was talked of, but I was much
pressed to do it, and I undertook it with much misgiving.
My position as Professor seemed to require a certain
number of formal lect-ares, although practical instruction
in art was the main object of my appointment ; and these
led to others being given outside for the benefit of a public
which lies in wait for any one they can catch for an even
ing's instruction. As regards the lectures, they speak for
theraselves. In spite of difficulties attending the subject,
I have come to the conclusion that it is much easier to write

viii PREFACE.
about art than to practise it; and am led to the further
conclusion that, as example is always better than precept,
the more time I devote to painting in future and the less
to public lecturing, the better it will be for my art and
for those who are interested in it. The progress that has
been made in art during the last ten years has been so
rapid, that much of what I said in my first lecture has
become obsolete ; the remarks I there made on the English
school of painting especially, though true enough then, are
now, through the rise of a younger school of artists, and
the influence they have had upon older men, less applic
able. I come to-day from the "varnishing day" ofthe
Royal Academy Exhibition with a pleasant conviction that
there is on all sides a more decided tendency towards a
higher standard in art, both as regards treatment of subject
and execution, than I have ever before noticed; and I
have no hesitation in attributing this sudden improvement
in the main to the stimulus given to us all by the election
of our new President, and to the influence of the energy,
thoroughness, and nobility of aim which he displays in
everything he undertakes. I was probably the first, when
we were both young and in Rome together, to whom he
had the opportunity of showing the disinterested kindness

PREFACE. ix
which he has invariably extended to beginners whom he
sees to be interested in their work; and to him, as the
friend and master who first directed my ambition, and
whose precepts I never fail to recall when at work (as
raany another will recall them), I venture to dedicate this
book with afl'ection and respect.
Edward J. Poynter.
April Zifk, 1879.

CONTENTS.

LECTURE I.
PACE
DECORATIVE ART ..... ... I

LECTURE II.
OLD AND NEW ART  62
LECTURE III.
SY.STEMa OF ART EDUCATION  94
LECTURE IV.
HINTS ON THE FOR.MATION OF A STYLE  IIJ
LECTURE V.
THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS  135

CONTENTS.

LECTURE VL PAGE
ON THE STUDY OF NATURE .  loj

LECTURE VII.

VALUE OF PRIZES

LECTURE VIII.
OBJECTS OF STUDY  1S5
LECTURE IX.
PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO . . . . 217
LECTURE X.
THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE .... 252

LECTURES ON ART.

LECTURE L
DECORATIVE ART.
This lecture was written first in 1869 for University
College, before my appointment there as Slade Professor.
It was afterwards considerably augmented and read at
Birmingham, and again, with alterations, at Manchester.
As first written it was intended to draw attention to
the great " realistic '' powers of Michelangelo, the appre
ciation of which had been forced upon me by a recent
visit to Rome, and again by Braun's photographs of the
.Sistine Chapel, which had just been published. It may
be said that, until these were done, there were portions
of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel which were completely
unknown to all who had not had the rare fortune of
seeing the originals from a scaffolding. There is much
V B

2 LECTURES ON ART.
in this lecture which has now become commonplace ; but
at the time it was written the ideas it expresses were not
so widely diffused ; I publish it almost as it was written,
omitting only some too dangerous generalizations.

The qualities, of mind required to produce a work of
art are two^the power of design, and the power of
imitation. The power of design, again, is of two kinds — con
structive and ornamental.
The first of these, or constructive design, has its simplest
expression in the form which a savage gives to the ordinary
objects of his daily use ; in the shape which he gives' to
his hatchet, or to the rude vessels in which he cooks his
food. The second, or ornamental design, in the patterns which
he cuts on the prow of his boat, or traces with a stick
on his pottery, or the mud walls of his hut.
The power of imitation shows itself in its simplest form
in his wretched attempts to represent animal forms when
he introduces them into his decorative efforts, and is
therefore necessarily a part of ornamental design.
Thus we may have — first, constructive design pure and
simple. Then, ornamental design as applied to construc
tive work, either purely composed of patterns without

DECORATIVE AKT. 3
reference to natural forms, or including the itftitsitjon, of
objects, and thirdly, we may have a kind of ornamental
design of which the imitation or reahzation of nature is the
principal and most important aim. It is obvious that
these three divisions include the whole world of art. It
is impossible that I can touch in the space of one lecture
on anything approaching to all the various branches of
constructive and decorative art, but I will attempt to
define the form of truth which I think, to be the basis of
beauty in all these classes of work.
Among uncivilised peoples the art of design, both orna^
mental and constructive, is generally far in advance of
that of imitation, for whereas their attempts in the latter
direction are mostly of a vety feeble kind, or so hideous
as to be positively alarming, very frequently the forms
of their pottery and the patterns with which they decorate
it and other things are of a beauty which the most edu
cated artist of taste could not surpass. The art of design,
is, or I should say, has been till within the last fifty or
sixty years, employed in every work which men's hands
produce ; for I think I am right in saying that until the
progress of civilisation developed the principle that beauty
is not essential to our happiness, nothing that man did
with his hands was wrought without a desire, however
slight, of making it pleasant to look at, at least from his
own point of view. It is only since the enormous a4vance
B 2

4 LECTURES ON ART.
•made in the science of engineering that the necessity of
beauty has been completely ignored : but it has now got to
this point, that men take a pride in showing how deficient
in interest a structure can be made ; for they reckon it not
only useless, but a waste of time, which we all know means
money, to give a single thought to their work which should
redeem it from utter hideousness, and help to make it
agreeable to the eye ; their practical minds revolt from
so foolish an idea. I do not wish to discuss now the
question of the utility of beauty ; I cannot but believe that
the beauty of things is of use as far as our happiness in
this world is concerned, that some connection between
beauty and usefulness there must be, and that that state
of things must be wrong, where, in the name of utility and
progress we have to suffer from such oppressive nightmares
of engineering work as in the last twenty years have grown
up in our great cities. The worst and most tasteless efforts
in architecture that our great towns afford — and there is
no lack of them — are better than the outrages that our
men of science inflict on us in their railway bridges and
other works ; for the former may afford a trifling pleasure,
even if of an unreasonable kind, to people ignorant of
art, while the latter are only regarded even by the most
uncultivated as at best an unavoidable necessity in the
progress of things. I do not even believe that the hideous
ness of these things is a necessity of their construction ;

DECORATIVE ART. S
they are done out of a kind of brag to show what a triumph
of cheapness engineering can achieve. Besides, I refuse
to believe in the necessity for construction of that kind
being done entirely from the point of view of cheapness
as long as money is wasted in the reckless way that is
common in railway affairs, and as long as enormous fortunes
are made out of them. But this is a digression from the
main subject of my lecture; nor, I think, would any
amount of protest, supported by the best arguments in the
world, be of any avail against what is considered so
necessary by the scientific and practical men who are the
pride of our age and of our country.
I will return then to the point I was considering. If
we examine the elements of beauty in constructive design
we shall find that two things are essential. First, fitness
for the purpose which the object made is intended to fulfil;
and second, good workmanship in making it.
In those objects which are made simply for use without
afterthought of beauty, fitness for the purpose for which
they are designed is evidently an essential. Whatever
beauty is to be found in this class of objects is inherent,
so to speak, in their nature, or rather, I should say, arises
from the necessity of their construction. Art, or the artistic
sense, has nothing to do with determining their forms,
which are entirely suggested by perfect adaptation to their
purpose, and vary but litde in any country or at any

6 LECTURES ON ART.
period of the world's history. Among them I may take as
examples the more ordinary implements of agriculture,
carpentry, &c.; the form of a spade, or a rake, or a hatchet,
or an oar is determined entirely by its appropriateness to
the purpose for which it is intended. All this kind of
objects has a certain beauty of its own which you will
recognize when 1 speak of them as picturesque, the word
usually applied to the beauty of a homely object,, but
which is none the less a beauty of a vei-y important kind,
and is the basis of the beauty of all works of constructive
design. Sometimes we find this beauty to be of a very
high order, as in the case of the plough, the beautiful lines
of which have always been the admiration of artists, and
which no alterations of detail can spoil ; all kinds of
sailing craft, too, will occur to you as possessing beauty
of a special kind, which arises entirely from the necessities
of their construction, and in nowise because there has
.been a desire to make a beautiful object, and I cojild
mention many other things of the kind. We have then
here what I may term the beauty of fitness, which is really
nothing but a form of truth or realism. When a manu
factured object is so made as to be perfectly fitted for
the purpose for which it is designed, when, as in the case
of simple objects of universal use the form has been so
modified by continual and gradual improvements (without
ulterior intention of making it more beautiful) as to

DECORATIVE ART. 7
have all that is requisite and nothing that is superfluous,
and when in addition it is constructed . iil the manner best
calculated to make it strong and durable, it has this beauty,
which I pall the beauty of fitness. Now these are the
characteristics of all that kind of work of which the rules
are handed down from father to son, or from master to
apprentice, and which is called therefore traditional work;
consequently, we always find that traditional work has some
elements of beauty in it; and this is why artists and people
of^ artistic tastes admire and frequently collect ordinary
and perhaps trifling objects of traditional workmanship;
things which are often a cause of wonder and sometimes
of ridicule to those who -have not considered the matter
from this point of view, and so cannot see any beauty in
comilion things ; but it is the inherent beauty of truth in
them which makes them interesting to the collectors.
Such things as these, however, cannot be said to be
works of high artistic order ; for that a second element df
beauty is required, namely, beauty of workmanship. By
this I understand that, in addition to a knowledge of a
strong and durable method of construction, the worktnan
should have an eye capable of appreciating nice delicacies
of proportion, and a trained and skilful hand which Shall
enable ¦ hita to execute them with perfect neatness and
precision of finish; he rriust have the power of carrying: out
to perfection' the -idea of the design. Good workmajiShif)

8 LE:CTURES ON ART.
is but rarely to be met with at the present time; the
workman has got such a habit -of doing bad and cheap
work, that he cannot (or will not) copy what any skilled
workman could have done sixty years ago. A skilled work
man now, with rare exceptions, is nothing but a machine,
or rather part of the machinery which he serves, repeating
from morning to night the same action with the monotonous
and perfect regularity of a machine, and utterly incapable
of doing anything else, or he is a workman skilled only
in concealing the badness of the work he produces. Up
to the beginning of this century good work was common ;
the tradition of it was universal ; indeed, it is almost im
possible to find any sort of old work which is not con
structed on good principles and well executed. But with
the rapid increase of trade, consequent on the introduction
of steam and steam-machinery, came the desire of rapidly
making money, and people soon found out that substitut
ing bad work for good was the best way of doing this,
so that the tradition of good workmanship soon began to
die out, and has now for some time been extinct, and has
to be created again.
Now this beauty of fitness, which is nothing more or
less than truth or reality of construction, and which I
have spoken of as the first essential, depends on much
more than the mere fact that the object is useful for
tne purpose for which it was intended. It means that

DECORATIVE ART. 9
every point should be attended to which is advantageous
for that purpose — that every portion of the fabric should
have something to do with the construction, and not be
introduced falsely for the sake of ornament, or as fre
quently happens for no purpose at all; also that every
portion of the work should be what it appears to be,
and do the work which it appears to do. It is not by
any means sufficient that a chair should be comfortable
and firm to make it a well-designed chair ; it must be
¦designed in the best way to produce these and other
results. So that a chair made of common materials,
and even roughly made (roughly, that is, as regards the
finish of its appearance, but finished as regards the per
fect fitting and fitness of its parts), may be an object of
more intrinsic beauty than the performance of a fashion
able upholsterer ; and if to this beauty of construction
be added beauty of workmanship, it is capable of be
coming a true work of art without addition of decoration
or ornament of any kind. In nothing more than in our
dwelling-houses and furniture is this truth of construction
necessary; with the exception of isolated works of good
architects and artists, there is nothing in which it is
more ignored. And here I must pause to interpolate
a vehement protest against the usual application of the
words ugly and handsome or beautiful. The very
general idea is that plainness is ugliness in these matters

IO LECTURES. ON ART.
(is not indeed" the word plain a synonym for ugly?);
I mean that furniture is considered ugly unless it be
decorated with scrolls or inlaying or gilding, and has
useless and unnecessary curved lines about it. For a
thing to be called handsome, the word so commonly
applied to houses and furniture, it must have cost a
good deal of money; it must be well overlaid with orna
ment, no matter how debased, inappropriate, or badly
done ; and it must cost, or appear to have cost, a good
deal of money. A house is not considered handsome
unless it is covered with stucco or artificial stone orna
ments. The architect who in tbe present day builds
for a man of wealth a plain brick-house, whose beauty
consists in its proportions, and in the good execution
of whatever detail of ornament there may be — such
houses as were built by thousands in the last century —
is a daring man, and is rarely to be found, for his com
missions will be few. Let him run up a shoddy-house,
with staring plate-glass windows which let in twice as much
light as is wanted, and make one feel as if one were
sitting in the chilly open air ; let the structure be bad
in its proportions, and the rooms, staircases, and passages
ugly in shape, and very possibly ill-contrived for com
fort, then let him cover it inside and out with mean
ingless and tasteless ornament, as badly executed as it
is designed— above all, let it look as if it cost a great

.DECORATIVE ART. .n
deal of money — let him, I say, build a thousand such,
and he will find a thousalid wealthy men to occupy
them. If we examine into the cause of this state of
things, we shall find it to consist in more than a mere
change of fashion. Changes of fashion up to this pre
sent century have always been from one kind of good
work to another. A Queen Anne house is different
from an Elizabethan house, but both are equally strongly
and well built, and both have elements of beauty in
them from their perfect construction and finish of detail ;
but the change of style in the present day is quite a
different matter; it is a change from a reality to a
sham. Is it worth while to consider wherein lies the
root of this evil ? I think it is ; and at the risk of
fatiguing you with what may appear to be somewhat
too much in the nature of a sermon, I will do so. It
is indeed the dread of appearing not to be able to
afford handsome things which is at the bottom of the
general decline of good work, which we find surrounding
us on all sides ; it is, combined with the other evil I
have spoken of, viz., the desire of rapidly making for
tunes, tlie root of all that is bad and sham in art about
us. We English are not naturally an artistic people.
Do not let me be misunderstood. I do not mean to
say that there are not genuine artists of as high talent
in England as elsewhere, and that there are not

12 LECTURES ON ART.
connoisseurs of art as distinguished here as elsewhere, but
the class of each is a small one compared to the great
number of artists whose interest is more in the gain re
sulting from their labours than in the labour itself, or to
the number of those who wish to gain the reputation of
connoisseurs without any very genuine love of art to
begin with ; and it is nothing more or less than the
desire of a people, not by nature artistically gifted, to
appear endowed with a taste for the beautiful, which
they do not and cannot possess, which causes the vast
multiplication of tasteless objects of art and art-manu
facture with which we are inundated. Up to the end
of the last century, those people who had good taste,
and the means of cultivating it, did so with great suc
cess, and by their patronage of good art at home and
the beautiful works they introduced from other more
favoured countries, enriched England with many most
valuable treasures of art. But, at the same time, those
v/ho did not care for art, or who had no means to
patronise it, were content to live in a homely way, and
desired nothing beyond the rather homely, but always
well-contrived and well-executed things which supplied
their wants in the way of furniture and house-decora
tion. Now, however, that a large proportion of people
with much money and little taste consider it necessary
to fill their houses with what are called handsome

DECORATIVE ART. 13
things, those things are supplied to any extent — to such
an extent that it would be impossible for all the skilled
workmen in the kingdom to supply good work at the
rate at which it is wanted — so in its place is supplied
an enormous amount of meaningless and characterless
ornamental work, created for this class of people, who
think they have satisfied all the demands of good taste
by having the latest novelty; the latest novelty generally
being something not new in form or design (or if new,
only because it has not been done before for very
shame), but done by the last new mechanical invention
for cheapening labour, or the last new invention for
making a flimsy sham take the place of good work not
understood or appreciated ; and thus the habit of doing
nothing but bad work is formed, and ignorance accepts
it all through the country. This is, I am afraid, a result
of our civilisation, and is as much a part of it, as it is
a part of it that the misery of one class of our popula
tion is always increasing in proportion to the wealth
of another; and just as no amount of charity, however
lavishly bestowed in almsgiving, will ever alleviate the
miserable condition of our poorer classes, so no amount
of what I may call almsgiving to art in the form of
buying pictures (no matter how high the prices given)
will ever change the poverty-stricken condition in which the
larger portion of our community finds itself with regard to

14 LECTURES ON ART;
art. This is a theme which it would not be difficult fo en
large upon to a wearisome extent, for the system of making
expensive shams take the place and assume the name of
beautiful work is so universal at this time and in this
country, is so part and parcel of the spirit of the age, that
people have really come to believe that progress means
this and nothing more. It is thought to be the greatest
advance in art and manufacture that this century has
made over all that have preceded it, that bad con
struction and bad workmanship can be so concealed
by bad ornament as to be made to pass for a thing of
value. This would be distressing enough if we were
not proud of it ; but we are, and it is this which makes
one feel the hopelessness of any serious effort in the
cause of truth and beauty. But I have said enough on
this point for the present at all events, though the
causes I speak of are so real, that I shall have occasion
to allude to them and to their effects once or twice
again in the course of my lecture.
I will proceed with the consideration of the necessary
elements of beauty in constructive design. If I dwell
mostly on the beauty of well-constructed furniture, it is
not only because it is one of the chief necessities of
our lives, but because it serves best as an illustration
of all the points I am touching upon, not only in the
rnatter of truth of construction and good workmanship.

-DECORATIVE ART. 15
but in its capabilities for the application of the second
Jcind of design I spoke of, namely, ornamental designi
Also because there has really been a great move made
lately by certain architects and artists to furnish and
decorate our houses with something better than what
upholsterers supply us with so freely; moreover, there
are schools of design all over the kingdom for the pur
pose of educating workmen, where all sorts of devices
are tried to supply them with the taste which has been
denied them by nature, , and of which they have lost
the tradition. Now with regard to the cottage-chair I
introduced before my last long digression, do not imagine
that I mean that it is necessary to have such chairs in
our drawing-rooms^ — beautiful carving and beautiful in
laying are most important additions to the beauty of
furniture — but I do assert that an old-fashioned cottage
arm-chair, constructed as it is for purely useful purposes,
constructed for strength combined with lightness, con
structed for durability, constructed for comfort, and above
all, constructed by artificers who, knowing that they have
no decorative gift beyond a kind of modest and homely
taste arising partly from their purely traditional teaching,
have not attempted to add decoration which they do
not understand, — I say that chairs of this kind might
well take the place of most of what we hear called the
elegant chairs in our houses. Such furniture as this

i6 LECTURES ON ART.
chair, which has served me for an illustration, is made
with few variations of form from tradition, and being
used for the commonest purposes, it has never been
thought worth while to art-educate the workman who
makes it; and while the furniture remains in its simple,
useful, and picturesque form, the workman has not ac
quired that kind of half-knowledge which is so charac
teristic of most of the art-workmen who have studied in
our schools of design, who have a peculiar knack (I am
speaking from experience, as having assisted for two
years in inspecting the designs and awarding the medals
at the annual national competition of the schools at
South Kensington), who have a peculiar gift for seizing
upon the half of an idea in a piece of good work or
ornament, and that always the wrong half. This is
plain-speaking; but if the evil is to be remedied, and
we are all interested in the matter that much, it is only
by plain-speaking that it can be done. I believe one of
the great difficulties in finding good art-workmen to
arise from the fact that more money is to be made in
other branches of art than in designing or executing the
more useful kinds of decorative work. Any man gifted
with exceptional facility of design, immediately sets
himself to making water-colour drawings or painting
pictures, for he finds it a much more rapid means of
making money; and this is one of the results of the

DECORATIVE ART. 17
notion so deeply ingrained in us — that art consists only
in painting pictures. But this whole matter of the working
of our Schools of Design and of the condition of our
art-workmen is a separate branch of the subject of de
corative work, and cannot be dismissed in a few words ;
to consider the matter properly, and the remedies that
might be applied, would require a separate lecture.
We have therefore but two kinds of good work in furni
ture (ayd other kinds of art-manufacture) possible. One
is this almost extinct traditional work I have spoken
of, and which remains only in the construction of the
most homely objects ; and the other is the work of
highly-gifted and original minds, which has an indepen
dent and higher quality of beauty than the other. Such
work as this, I need not say, is very rare, but we fortu
nately have men among us capable of originating it,
and if it is rightly understood and followed, it is
capable of producing a school doing work scarcely
inferior to the original, Rightly understood, I say, for
it is only if rightly understood that it is possible for a
good tradition of work to arise out of it. I will not
dwell on the failures consequent on the efforts such
men have made ; it is sufficient to say that upholsterers
and house-decorators, unless their productions have been
under the immediate and careful control of architects
or artists of talent, have been just as successful in
c

,8 LECTURES ON ART.
seizing the wrong end of every idea which has been
given them, as they are in producing the meaningless
imitations of the more debased sort of last-century
tables and chairs, which constitute most of our drawing-
room furniture. I hope I have now said enough to
explain my meaning, when I say that Truth is the real
basis of Beauty in constructive design ; that without
reality of construction and good workmanship no object
of art-manufacture can have any claim to be considered
a work of art.
I will now pass to the consideration of ornamental
design. And first I will treat of it briefly in reference
to its application to constructive design, reserving for
the second part of my lecture that third class of work
which I spoke of where the rendering of nature is the
principal object of the artist.
I have spoken much about excellence of workmanship
being a necessaiy condition for a manufactured object
to be a good work of art. Indeed this is essential to
all artistic work, and is quite as important in all branches
of ornamental design as in construction. But there is
another form of Truth which is quite as needful, and
that is, that for decoration applied to construction to be
beautiful it must first of all be appropriate. Inappropriate
decoration will spoil the best designed and best
executed construction. I dwelt at length on this point

DECORATIVE ART. 19
in my lecture at Birmingham, giving several illustrations
of what I considered bad decoration, but I will not do
so here as my lecture as delivered there was too long,
and would be longer still now with the additions that
I have since made in re-writing it. I will, however,
put into shorter form what I said there, merely saying
that the general principles I lay down will apply just
as well to one form of art-manufacture as another. I
have been asked to make some remarks specially ap
plicable to the staple manufacture of this city and its
neighbourhood, but the fact is I have absolutely no special
knowledge concerning Calico-printing and hardly know
the condition that the industry is in at present. I do
not remember that this particular branch was repre
sented to any extent at the Annual Competition for the
National Medals at South Kensington. I remember
the designs for printing muslins for dresses, and that
they showed particularly well, but I cannot remember
whether they came from this immediate neighbourhood or
not. However, as I have said, whatever general remarks
I make concerning appropriate decoration will apply
equally well to Calico-printing as to other branches of
art-manufacture. Certain remarks that I will make here
in regard to colour will be appHcable. There is this
obvious difficulty in speaking both of patterns pure
and simple, and of colour, that there is absolutely no
c 2

20 LECTURES ON ART.
criterion by which we can judge of the beauty of a
pattern or of beauty of colour. Both these things de
pend so entirely upon the capacity that the eye has for
judging of proportion or of harmony that there is nothing
to be said on the matter. If I say that mauve, magenta,
and all the new aniline dyes are offensive colours with
a harsh metallic tint which renders them utterly unfit
to be used, and impossible to harmonize in any kind
of ornamental work, whether in the dyeing of silks, the
printing of chintzes, muslins, or wall-paper, I only state
my own conviction, with which those will not agree
whose eyes are not offended with these colours. The
same thing happens with regard to patterns ; if I- say that
a pattern is ugly, vulgar, and badly designed, I can
bring forward no argument in favour of my assertion,
for the thing admits of no proof. But if an imitation of
nature is introduced, I have some foundation for an
argument on the matter. I can say, for instance, that
the animals introduced into the ornament on the beauti
ful bronze bowls of Assyrian workmanship in the British
Museum are perfect for decorative work of the kind,
for though done in the simplest possible manner, merely
engraved in outline without attempt at detail or relief,
they so thoroughly breathe the spirit of the creatures
represented and seize upon all the salient and most
important points of character that the most finished

DECORATIVE ART. 21
sculpture or painting could not surpass them. Also I
can explain by examples what I mean by inappropriate
decoration, confining myself at present to certain objec
tionable forms of decoration for furniture, condensing on
this point what I said at Birmingham. The illustration
that I first take I choose because the particular article
of furniture is so common in our drawing-rooms, and
because it happens to point the moral of my lecture
in many ways; because, besides showing what is bad,
I can also explain what I think might be good and appro
priate. I should say that a bunch of roses or a lap-
dog, painted in a slovenly way on the black japan of a
coal-scuttle is as inappropriate a piece of decoration as
ever was devised, and would spoil instead of improving
the best contrived coal-scuttle. ^ Yet it is undoubtedly
one of the most successful ideas in the whole range of
our art-manufactures, for there is hardly a drawing-room
in the kingdom where there is not some such elegant work
of art to be seen. It is not difficult to trace the source
of this particular form of bad decoration ; it arises entirely
from a somewhat vulgar feeling, hidden in the depths of
our hearts, that there is something rather common-looking
in a coal-scuttle which makes it suitable enough for a
' The reader will see by the date of this lecture that this passage
was written some years before Mr. Mark Pattison's use of this
illustration.

22 LECTURES ON ART.
kitchen, but out of place in a drawing-room ; hence the
introduction of the roses and the lap-dog (varied occa
sionally by a picture of a church by moonlight) was
considered to give great elegance to what would other
wise be rather an objectionable piece of furniture. Now
as a good fire is one of the glories of our rooms, I
cannot see tliat a coal-box is much out of place in them
even if we are obliged to have a black and unsighdy
object ; nor do I see that when left in its simple un-
decorated condition it is necessarily so unsightly ; it is
a piece of furniture Hke another, and has its own in
conspicuous place in the chimney-corner; and if it is not
an object we should single out for our admiration, it at
all events does not obtrude itself on our gaze. But
when it comes to be decorated with bad painting and
tawdry gilding it forces itself upon our notice as though
it were some kind of elegant vase for holding pot-pourri.
Fortunately, however, for those who like and can afford
handsome furniture there is a most simple way of making
a coal-scuttle a really decorative object in a most appro
priate manner, and that is by making it of copper or
brass and keeping it polished ; moreover an admirably
appropriate form of decoration might be applied (the
idea is not my own, for I have seen it done once in
imitation of an old brass pail), by embossing the metal
of which they are made with a kind of repousse work;

DECORATIVE ART. 23
this might be very effective, but it requires a real artist
to do it well, and those are not easily to be found who
will devote their energies to the beautifying of so humble
an object. This instance of a painted coal-scuttle may
for all I know be trite enough with writers on the re
vival of good art ; but I have chosen it for the reasons
I gave above, that is, on account of its being an extreme
case of inappropriate decoration, and also because it is
a very obvious one on account of the utter want of any
connecting idea between roses and coals. I will there
fore continue to use it as an illustration to my arguments,
as one instance will serve to illustrate the matter as
well as a dozen. The incongruity which I have dwelt
upon, this disconnection of ideas between coals and
TOses or churches by moonlight, is not the only cause
of inappropriateness of that form of decoration as applied
to objects of such ordinary use in our houses. We will
suppose some suitable subject to be chosen for its em
bellishment; let us say a landscape, representing the
mouth of a coal-pit. If this landscape were well painted
by a good artist every one, I think, would agree that it
was quite out of place on anything so subject to rough
usage as our coal-box ; d fortiori, if it is badly done it is
still more out of place, for bad work has no business to
be done at all ; so that even if the roses and lap-dog were
appropriate in one sense they would not be in another;

24 LECTURES ON AST.
they have no place on a coal-scuttle if well done, still
less if they are Ul done. I can indeed imagine a kind
of pa.inting which would be suitable where the things re
presented would be so simply and conventionally treated
as to require only a skilful and intelligent workman to do
the painting, a man not necessarily fitted for a higher kind
of decorative art, such painting as we see in Oriental
lacquer-work; indeed this simple form of decorative
painting is the origin of all our modern japan-work
(witness the name); but the treatment of it has by -this
time become entirely debased; the incessant craving for
novelty has led our workmen far away from the original
idea, so that they imagine a bad imitation of a water-
colour drawing or a chromo-Iithograph to be better than
the broad and simple effects to be got with sober colour
and subdued gilding : nothing but the name of this kind
of work remains, and we must go back to the fountain-
head if we wish to recover the spirit of the original. I
must omit much that I should wish to say concerning
the very bad condition of the decorative arts in the
matter of plate and jewellery; merely saying that there
is a reason for its very bad state in the fact that it is a
kind of work which is of no valvie unless the very
highest sort of artistic design and the best and most
refined workmanship is expended upon it, and that we
have not the workmen to do this. The love of display

DECORATIVE ART. 25
is at the root of this more than of any kind of bad art.
A man's show of plate now is reckoned of value ac
cording to its quantity and weight ; ignorance of .and
indifference to the quality of the workmanship as com
pared to the massiveness of the vessel, and what is
called the richness of the ornamentation, is the cause of
a more complete decay of art in these things than in
any other. But I must quote a passage from Dickens
bearing on this point, in which with that clearsighted
intuition which enables him always to seize on the pre
cise points he requires to illustrate his subject, be has
with wonderful conciseness described the condition to
which vulgar ostentation has brought us in these matters.
He is describing a rich man's dinner-party — " Hideous
solidity," he says, "was the characteristic of the plate.
Everything was made to look as heavy as it could, and
to take up as much room as possible. Everything said
boastfully, — Here you have as much of me in my ugli
ness as if I were only lead; but I am so many ounces
of precious metal worth so much an ounce ; wouldn't
you like to melt me down? A corpulent straddling
epergne, blotched all over as if it had broken out in an
eruption rather than been ornamented, delivered this
address from an unsightly silver platform in the centre
of the table. Four sUver wine-coolers, each fumished
with four staring heads, each obtrusively carrying a big

25 LECTURES ON ART.
silver ring in each of its ears, conveyed the sentiment
up and down the table and handed it on to the pot
bellied salt-cellars. All the big silver spoons and forks
widened the mouths of the company expressly for the
purpose of thrusting the sentiment down their throats
with every morsel they ate." I can add nothing that
will better express my meaning with regard to bad art
of this sort than this graphic description. I therefore
take leave of this part of my subject ; but before enter
ing on the matter of Decorative Painting I wish to say
a few words on the question of Styles of Art, which is
applicable both to what I have said and to what I am
going to say in the second part of my lecture, and
about which decorative artists and art-workmen trouble
themselves a good deal ; much more, I think, than is
necessary. If I have dwelt at some length on what I consider
false and bad in decorative work it is because by
showing you what is wrong I can best explain what I
think to be right. For when I wish to lay down any
law as to what is beautiful in ornamental design, I cannot
say much more than that what is appropriate and well
executed is good art.
Subject to the negative conditions treated of above,
there is nothing that may not be done in decorative
work. If I am asked what is a good pattern for a chintz

DECORATIVE ART. 27
hanging or for a wall-paper, I can only say that any
weU-designed and well-executed appropriate pattern is
good. And it is this difficulty, I think, of deciding
upon what ought to be after the conditions are well
understood of what ought not to be that has led so many
into the belief that there is no salvation in art out of
particular styles ; some standing up for English Gothic,
others for French Gothic, others for Greek, others for
Moorish, and others believing that there is' no safety out
of a particular century. The violent reaction which took
place against what was an obviously bad condition of
decorative art about fifty or sixty years ago, headed, as
far as my knowledge goes, by Pugin, and which is known
by the name of the Gothic Revival, induced men anxious
for a better state of things into an extreme of purism,
which became a sort of watchword by which the good and
earnest workers in the cause of art were to be known.
Now no one who has seen the painted windows in
St. George's Chapel, designed by Benjamin West, where
all the conditions of stained glass are misunderstood
or ignored, where an attempt was made to produce the
effect of the highly elaborated light and shade of the oil-
pictures in fashion at the time, and where no thought was
given to adapting the work to the exigencies of the sur
rounding architecture, — no one who remembers the pseudo-
classical monuments of military and naval heroes rising to

28 LECTURES ON ART.
a heaven of blue slate through ponderous masses of marble
clouds, which encumber Westminster Abbey and others of
our cathedrals, will suppose that this reaction came a
moment too soon. But it is not because these things are
done in what is called a Classic style, instead of what is
called a Gothic style, that they are bad ; it is because they
are in the first place genuinely bad work of their kind,
which would look bad wherever it was placed, and secondly
but less so, because classical work is out of place and
could with difficulty be made to look harmonious in a
Gothic cathedral. I say less so because the Elizabethan
monuments and the almost purely classic work of James
the First's time certainly do not look out of place in
the Gothic architecture of our cathedrals, and there are
numberless instances all through Europe of the happy
adaptation of one style to another.
It must be remembered too that if the decorators
and painters of the thirteenth century did not introduce
light and shades into their work it was because their
art was in its infancy, and that the whole of the best art
of Europe from the thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries
shows one continuous struggle to get nearer to the
realization of the splendid effects of roundness and
solidity of Nature ; the beauty and grandeur of the
work of those early masters depending on some
thing quite different from the fact that their pictures

DECORATIVE ART. 29
are painted with flat colours and without perspective.
If I dwell on this point it is because the belief in
the efficacy of flat tints and black outlines is still strong
among us, especially among architects, who in this respect
assumed a practice of laying down the law for the guidance
of artists.
Anyhow this determined insistance upon the necessity
of a purely flat kind of decoration has produced as a
result, a kind of work quite as unfortunate, if not more
so, than the vulgar rococo ornament which it has super
seded. In the use of diapers for hangings, our school of
design teachers and workmen ima.gine they have found
a safe harbour of refuge from the difficulties which beset
them in their voyages in search of appropriate patterns.
They appear to be quite unaware that it is just as difficult
to make a good diaper as any other form of decorative
pattern, and they have opportunities for violent juxtaposi
tion of colour which they never had before the numberless
new dyes now in fashion were invented, or when the
custom of making shaded designs of flowers and scrolls
obliged them, to a certain extent, to break up their tints.
These most excruciating contrasts of colour, that are only
too commonly found in houses, more especially in paper-
hangings, where we see the most violent blues opposed
to raw red and orange and magenta patterns on arsenic-
green grounds, are accepted by people in general as being

30 LECTURES ON ART.
in what they call the Gothic taste. Tiles in this Gothic
taste, too, are very common, in which magenta and green
are the prominent colours. Indeed, people have come to
this point, that they will not have harmonious colour when it
is to be got. It was always possible to fall back on Turkey
carpets if one could not find other things to one's taste,
with the certainty of finding them good and rich in colour ;
but they were evidendy too harmonious for the taste of
the majority, so that wools dyed in England of harsh
bright blue, magenta, and purple colours, were sent out
with the idea of improving the taste of the Oriental makers,
and it is now almost impossible to find any Turkey carpets
that are not as crude and disagreeable as English ones.'^
The Orientals certainly manage these harsh colours as well
as it is possible : but colours that are bad to begin with
cannot be made to look anything but disagreeable. The
fact is that mauve, magenta, and all the new aniline
dyes, are offensive colours, with a harsh metallic tint which
renders them utterly unfit to be used, and impossible to
harmonize in any kind of ornamental work, -whether in
the dyeing of silks, or the printing of muslins, chintzes,
and wall-papers. But let me return to the question I
' Lately vast quantities of carpel's and nigs from Turkestan and the
neighbouring countries have been imported into Europe far exceeding
in beauty the old Turkey carpets alhided to in the text. The East
is now being exhausted of all its traditional manufactures, never, I
fear, to be restored.

DECORATIVE ART. 31
was considering. There is really nothing objectionable
or inappropriate in the imitation of Nature in surface
decoration, provided it is kept in subservience to the -more
important necessities of decorative design. When the quali
ties of design, and the beauties of form, and colour, and
workmanship are of the highest order, as in the works
of the great Italian masters of the sixteenth century, the
imitation of relief even to the point of deception is admis
sible, because it becomes subordinate to the other qualities
which are more difficult of attainment. The reason that
the flying cherubs and festoons of flowers which we so
constantly introduced in the debased art of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries, and which are frequently so
skilfully done as to be absolutely deceptive, and appear
, detached from the walls ; the reason why this is bad
art is because the trick of imitating relief from the surface
is a very easy one, and is the only power the artist has :
the decoration being badly designed, the figures and
flowers being ill-drawn, and bad in colour, the whole
decoration interferes with the general unity of design in
the architecture ; and for this reason it is bad art.
Again, the reason why the attempt to introduce the light,
and shade, and relief of an oil-painting in stained glass
is bad art, is — not because stained glass was made of
'flat tints in the thirteenth century — but because, in the
first place, a window, which is meant to admit light, carries

32 LECTURES ON ART.
with it the idea of transparency, and therefore should not
be encumbered with heavy shading ; and secondly, because,
however well the light and shade may be imitated, the
presence of the lead-lines brings us back constantly to the
idea of a flat surface, so that the kind of painting which
best accords with this is the best for the purpose. The
reason why the imitation of relief is not admissible in
the more ordinary kinds of wall-decoration, is, first, that
the means of execution are of a very imperfect kind ; — the
common block-printing, used for wall-papers, cannot pro
duce that subtlety of workmanship which is necessary for
the design to be carried out as a work of high art, whereas
it can be so managed as to produce a coarse kind of
illusion, thus elevating the lower quality above the higher ;
and, secondly, because supposing we could so imitate a
natural form, a climbing rose let us say, in a wall-paper,
as for a moment to deceive us into thinking it was
real ; the continual repetition of the same form which is
a necessary part of any printed or stencUled decoration
would undeceive us in a moment. But between the limits
of a diaper on the one hand, and deceptive light and
shade on the other, there are a hundred different ways,
or degrees rather, of suggesting the roundness of objects
in this form of ornamental design, which are perfectly
reasonable and allowable; and here again I may refer
you to Oriental designs, as showing admirably how far

DECORATIVE ART. 33
the imitation of natural forms, flowers, fruit, birds, &c.,
may be carried without attempt at illusion.
And the consideration of this subject brings me natu
rally to the second part of my lecture, wherein I shall
devote myself entirely to that kind of ornamental
design I mentioned at the beginning, "in which the
imitation or realisation of Nature is the principal and
most important aim of the artist."
This, of course, naturally comprehends the whole art
of painting, whether purely decorative, as in the great
works of the great Italian masters, or in the form in which
it is more common in the present day, that of cabinet-
pictures ; but do not be afraid that I am going to inflict
upon you a disquisition on the whole history and practice
of painting; I shall merely treat of it, as I have treated
of constructive and ornamental design, as but a part in
fact of the great world of art, and with reference to the
necessity of truth as the great essential of beauty.
In this part of my subject, although it will be impossible
for me to discuss the matter properly without referring to
much that is false and bad in the state of the art at the
present time, it will be my pleasure to show you, to the
best of my abUity to what glorious heights of excellence
genius may arrive when it devotes itself entirely and
without afterthought of anything but achieving perfection
to the one single idea of the study of the Truth of Nature
D

34 LECTURES ON ART.
in her noblest and most beautiful forms. But as I am
about to make an attempt to show that an essential Element
of Beauty in this Art of painting is Realism, or the power
of realising what is beautiful in Nature, it would appear
necessary at first to make some definition of what this
Beauty of Nature really is ; but we are met at the outset
by the apparently insurmountable difficulty that, tastes
differing, as they do, so widely on matters of beauty, it
would seem futUe to endeavour to set up a positive
standard of beauty to which all men might agree. Indeed,
to lay down a distinct law on this point, to make as it
were a science of sesthetics, as there is a science of mathe
matics, so that we might have a distinct logical basis for
a decision concerning the beauty of a work of Nature, or
for settling the comparative beauty of two objects, so that
we might say, for instance, "This flower or this face is
more beautiful than that,'' not "Hike this flower or this
face better than that," with all the ramifications of argu
ment that could be brought to bear on the question,
would be a fitter exercise for the reasoning powers of
a philosopher than of an artist, whose business it is not
so much to argue on what is beautiful, as to take it
for granted that what he considers beautiful is fit for his
purpose. I will state however, as briefly as I can, what I think
can be said as bearing upon this point. In the first

DECORATIVE ART. 35
place, I am myself so distinctly conscious of the beauty of
certain things, that I feel there must be a reasonable ground
for my admiratioUi Here of course is no argument, for
another person may say the same thing, in reference to
certain things which I not only do not admire, but
positively dislike. Nevertheless there are certain extremes
of beauty and ugliness which all nations, raised above a
state of barbarism, have agreed to accept in all ages.
The beauty of a lily or a rose has never, that I know
of, been contested ; and the ugliness of a toad is pro
verbial ; so it appears evident that there is some kind
of standard to be found. In the second place, I am
inclined to deny that the differences of taste and opinion,
which I have referred to as creating the difficulty I am
dealing with, indicate any allowable ground for those
differences, for this reason — that people are so apt to
mistake what they admire for what they enjoy; and that
it is this confusion in our minds as to what is really
enjoyable in outward objects that causes the difficulty
of setting up a standard of their beauty. There are, of
course, many people who have no enjoyment in the
works of Nature or art, and with . such there is no concern
here. But there is another class of persons who have
a genuine enjoyment in beautiful things; but who, from
the extremely artificial state in which we live in our
present condition of civilisation, cannot really tell to what

36 LECTURES ON ART.
extent the beauties of Nature give them pleasure. They
frequently fancy that they admire or enjoy things, which,
if they could or would examine their minds, they would
possibly find are very wearisome to them. They admire
what they think it right to admire, and what they admire
they think they must enjoy. And this, it may be
remarked, may be the reason why the art of semi-civilised
nations is generally of uniform beauty within a certain
range. Having no education in art, they form no arti
ficial tastes. Their enjoyment is in simple things, and
they are not ashamed of it, so they do not aspire to
express in art more than they are capable of enjoying ;
whereas in our high-pressure state of civilisation, there
is a large number of people, who, though they may have
small knowledge of what is beautiful and limited powers
of enjoyment, are not content unless they appear to take
pleasure in things which are really beyond their powers
of appreciation. Such as these draw unconsciously to
themselves a distinct line between what they select for
admiration, and what they really enjoy in their hearts;
and it is among them that those differences, those
oppositions of taste and opinion arise that make the
difficulty I have been discussing; and it is for, and by,
these pretenders, as I may call them, that so much
second-rate art is produced as we see around us. But
I will dwell no longer on this matter; it would take too

DECORATIVE ART. 37
long to discuss the point in all its bearings : nor indeed
am I prepared to do so, for the whole question is sur
rounded with very great difficulties, and I leave it to pass
to the point more immediately requiring consideration.
It wUl hardly I think be denied that Truth to Nature
is the most important necessity in any kind of work
which professes to imitate Nature, but there is more to
be said on this point than would at first sight appear.
The art of painting is, after all, but a part of the art of
Ornamental Design, and the power of imitation is rarely
unaccompanied by some power of design.
It is pretty obvious that when a savage makes a rough
drawing in imitation of an animal, some feeling of design
must enter into his imitation, for he has to decide upon
the action he wUl represent, and the position it has to
occupy on the vessel or wall on which he draws it ; this
he will do in the way which makes it most pleasant to
his eyes — and the art of design is this and nothing more.
Michelangelo himself in painting a figure does no more
than make the best imitation of nature he can, and arrange
the figure in the form and position which best pleases
him. But one or other of the powers called into play
is pretty sure to predominate, and this creates two classes
of art, which, to my thinking, are more closely allied
than is generally supposed ; at least by far too much dis
tinction is made between them, as if they were opposing

38 LECTURES ON ART.
qualities, rather than so closely connected that it is difficult
to draw the dividing line between them. I mean the Real
and the Ideal— Realism and Idealism. These are gene
rally set in opposition to each other ; we hear of schools
of Realists and schools of Idealists ; and certainly the
Ideal is apt to be sneered at by so-called Realists as
being something which is untrue to Nature and therefore
beyond the scope of art; Realism, again, is looked down
upon by Idealists as being unworthy the aim of men of
high artistic gifts ; but this denotes a confusion of ideas
concerning the necessities of a work of art which leads
on the one side to those poor substitutes for photography
in the shape of elaborate studies from nature which some
of our modern artists give us under the name of Realism^ —
poor substitutes I call them, because the subtlety with
which photography represents the more unimportant truths
of nature can never be rivalled by human handiwork ; or
to a still lower class of picture in which the notion of
Realism is achieved by the identity of some historical
accessory, as though one should paint the flight of
Napoleon from Waterloo, and make the interest of the
picture depend on the fact that the coach is painted from
the real original at Madame Tussaud's, an idea which fully
comes up to our modern notions of Realism. On the
other side, under the name of Idealism, of High Art, of
the Grand Style, and I know not what, we have a more

DECORATIVE ART. 39
insufferable amount of bombastic work forced upon us
than it is conceivable men could do under the pretence
of representing nature. But real shades of difference there
are between Realism and Idealism, caused by the opera
tion of one or the other tendency I have spoken of in
the artist's mind. To this point I shall recur further on.
Still, so far from Realism being, as some suppose, in
opposition to the development of Beauty in Art, I affirm
that the highest Beauty is attained by the highest applica
tion of the realistic or imitative faculty. Truth I have
affirmed to be the essential of Beauty; how is truth in
art to be arrived at but by the power of realising the
beauties of Nature to the utmost ?
Here I must pause, for I find myself in face of the
difficult question. How are we to decide on what is true to
Nature ? Opinions vary on this point almost as much as
tastes differ with regard to what is beautiful. Among
those who practise art you will find some who differ at
every point on the relative truth of artistic productions.
I'he fact is, that those who are really capable of judging
of the truth of a work of art will be found to be infinitely
fewer in number than is supposed ; yet, I imagine, there
are very few who will not say, that though they know
nothing about beauty or art, they are at least capable of
judging whether a picture be true to nature or not ; indeed
there is no point on which people are commonly so touchy.

40 LECTURES ON ART.
or which they are so tenacious in holding, as this of being
able to decide whether a picture is " like '' or not ; and
this is the reason — they mistake part of the truth for the
whole, or an unimportant truth for an important one.
The ignorant sight-seer, who stops his listless wandering
in the British Museum to' look over the shoulder of a
student drawing from one of the antique statues, stands
amazed at what appears to him to be the truthfulness of
what is possibly but a very feeble copy of the original ;
for him it is enough that the arms and legs are represented
in due number, and in approximately correct positions;
that the eyes are correct in being open, and the mouth in
being shut, that the light falls on the proper side ; he
makes no question but that he has the power of seeing
that the drawing is true to the original. Really it may
be so unlike that the veriest tyro in art, or the most
superficially-gifted amateur, can see the faults at a glance.
This is an extreme case of a glaring kind, and therefore
perhaps the better adapted for illustration, as it is on that
account obvious to every one. But the same kind of
ignorance, though of different degrees according to the
knowledge of the observer, is constantly shown in the
appreciation of pictures from Nature. Her truths are so
many, so subtle, and so various, that it requires that bom
insight of an artist which is his greatest gift to discover
but a part of them ; and even having the gift, his whole

DECORATIVE ART. 41
life is Spent in acquiring that knowledge, for not only does
he day by day discover some new beauty to which he was
blind before, but he finds in doing so how littie he really
knows. This insight into the truths of nature, coming partly as
a gift and partiy acquired by the closest and most continual
observation, combined with the power of expressing his
knowledge is what I understand the power of Realism to
be ; and these truths are what the uncultivated cannot
see — they are to be found only by those who diligently
seek after them. The broad external facts of Nature are
patent to everybody. An ignorant person discovers in a
landscape picture that moonlight is represented, for he
sees the moon in the sky, the reflection in the water, the
light catching the roofs of the houses and the tops of the
trees, and candle-light shining through the windows. The
picture may be the veriest daub, without a single point
given correctly, but this fact of the moonshine is made
clear, and the unpractised observer gazes with fond admi
ration on what he considers a miracle of truthful painting.
Wliat does he know of the relative values of tone and
colour, truth of perspective, aerial and linear, and other
matters which require a lifetime of observation to represent
faithfully. It seems simple pedantry to him if you tell him
the picture is bad because thoroughly untrae. Can he not
see with his own eyes? Does he not know what moon-

42 LECTURES ON ART.
light is like ? &c. &c. And so a mass of work, better no
doubt than the very bad I have just quoted as an example,
is accepted by the public as being admirably true, which
though rendering cleverly enough unimportant things, is
thoroughly false on all points where a real artistic insight
is necessary. And the converse of this is equally tme,
that the noblest works of high art are completely mis
understood and ignored by the general mass of people,
and not unfrequently by artists, because they contain
truths which are beyond their comprehension, or which
have not been sufficiently studied to take the important
place in their minds which they ought to hold. The artist
who has the profoundest iusight into the noblest tmths,
and neglects no point in his work which is calculated to
give them the highest expression, unquestionably produces
the noblest work ; and yet, in spite of this apparently
obvious fact, Mr. Leslie, in his Handbook for young
painters, has what I cannot but call the daring to assert
that there is no such thing as what is commonly called
" High Art," and declares emphatically that a picture by
Ostade, who aimed at nothing but the literal representation
of coarse and ignoble subjects, never caring to look for any
form of beauty in Nature,' is as high a work of art as a
1 This rather sweeping statement requires some modification ; I
meant it to apply to Ostade's treatment of figures ; in beauty of tone
and light and shade he is only second to Rembrandt, and his execution
is subtle and delicate in the highest de^ee.

DECORATIVE ART. 43
picture by Raphael (he says, as far as I remember, " I
should consider a picture by Ostade on a level with one
by Raphael"), the whole of whose life was devoted to
searching through Nature for the most beautiful forms and
the loftiest characteristics, and who, by the acclamation
of the world has been recognised as not only having
found the highest beauty, but as having expressed it in
his best work in a more consummately refined and graceful
manner than any painter. This is the lesson Mr. Leslie
has given to young painters, and admirably, I may say,
has it been learnt. Still every truth of Nature thoroughly
understood and expressed has a charm in its own degree.
The stump of a tree and a broken-down railing is quite
enough to make a good picture if it is painted with due
understanding of the subtle relations of tone and colour
which pervade all Nature. Bmt to convey the fact that
there is in a particular spot a certain stump of a tree of
which you give a portrait by the side of a certain broken
railing of which you give a portrait, is not painting a
work of art at all.
Most of our popular art depends for its success almost
entirely on the facts represented in the pictures and not
on the art which is expended in the painting of them;
a certain amount of technical skill is required no doubt
by the more knowing of the public, but very littie of it
will go a long way. The public generally not being very

44 LECTURES ON ART.
profoundly instructed on the point of art, but perfectly
understanding the point of a scene from Shakspere or
one of Scott's novels, the artist whose only desu-e is to
make a popular success, does his best to amuse the pubUc
with what they can appreciate, and represents his subject
without regard to the more important and nobler truths
of Nature, which he knows would be thrown away upon
the ignorant, only looking for just enough of reality as is
sufficient to make his point obvious to them.
Hence the complete absence of what is called style in the
popular school of painting in England, and of the contempt
with which foreign schools, better educated in the practice of
their art and more serious in aim, look down on such work.
Those critics who speak of style as an academic quality to
be acquired as if it were something separate from truth,
fail to see that beauty is only to be attained in art by the
study of what is profoundly and not superficially true.
Style I understand to be that power of realising the
beauty of Nature which is only to be attained by study,
and the power of expressing this knowledge as one who
has had a complete education in his craft. An academic
style, taken in the bad sense in which critics use it, is
nothing but a mannerism, and is the result of the student
adopting, without understanding them, the peculiarities of
work of a certain painter or school, rather than studying the
truths of Nature with a view to arrive ultimately at her

DECORATIVE ART. 45
highest beauties. This form of mannerism is extremely
common in foreign schools, where acres of canvas and
paper are covered with masses of theatrical and bombastic
figures, who neither look nor behave as any mortals could
look or behave under any circumstances. Every one who
knows anything of German art, for instance, knows well the
scowl and the clenched fist which does duty for the tragic
passions of their heroes ; most of the efforts at high art
which have been made in this country till within the last
few years have included this scowl as the kind of stamp
which marks a work of style, or what is called historical
art, as distinguished from a "genre'' picture. But there
is not much fear at present of a stUted or grandiose style
spreading amongst us ; the popular work of which I have
been speaking is far too much of a favourite among us.
English artists as a rule are too independent to adopt
a manner; unfortunately they are frequently too inde
pendent to submit to any kind of schooling. The multi
plicity of picture exhibitions that we have encourages
young artists to exhibit pictures before they have learnt
anything of their craft ; and, once having gained a place
at an exhibition, perhaps even made a success by a display
of talent never to be developed, those are very few who
have the perseverance to school themselves further. The
mannerism of English artists is more often that of complete
ignorance, and ignorance has a manner of its own made to

46 LECTURES ON ART.
conceal ignorance. This mannerism is known by the name
of cleverness. That dexterous manipulation, those brU
liant performances with transparent shadows and sparkling
lights, with which the walls of our exhibition-rooms are
yearly covered, are only displays of ignorance. They serve
to conceal from a public amazed at the dexterity of the
performance, the fact that the painter knows nothing of
his art. If the pictures are not on this wise, they are
what is called realistic, the realism consisting in the most
elaborate painting of trivial details while the great and
important truths of Nature are unknown and uncared for ;
so that the value of the work is reckoned according to
the patience of the artists in realising trifles, and the suc
cess of the picture is in proportion to the time the artist
has taken in painting it.
This is not all the art to be found in England. We
have among us men of poetic minds and sincere and
serious aims who will never condescend to paint for
popularity ; and that very spirit of independence which
is so fatal to conceited facUity, is perhaps a means of
securing a certain amount of originality which otherwise
might have been confined, at all events for a time, by the
trammels of academic teaching. Not that I mean to say
that education can ever fetter genius ; on the contrar}', a
deficiency of early training of a good kind interposes a
forest of difficulties to prevent the artist of genius from

DECORATIVE ART. 47
giving form to his thoughts which he never completely
clears to the end of his life. I am referring rather to
the enforced adoption of certain bad and stilted methods
of work which is to be found in some foreign schools,
and which may well shackle a man of talent, if not a man
of great genius. It is to these schools that we owe those
ludicrous exhibitions of the human form which are fondly
supposed to be done in obedience to the style of the great
Italian masters, where the beautiful and varied play of the
muscles under the skin is represented by something to be
found in a sack of potatoes rather than in a human body.
No one has ever been worse treated in this respect than
the gigantic genius to whom I have already referred, and
to the study of whose works I shall devote the rest of my
paper, as that wUl best explain what I mean when I speak
of Realism as giving the highest form of beauty. I mean
the great Michelangelo Buonarotfi, justly styled by his
countrymen " The divine " — a man whom as an artist
I place on a level with, and in some respects above, the
greatest known of Greek artists.
I have referred a while back to the predorhinance of
one or other of the faculties which go to the making of high
artistic work ; I mean the powers of design and of imita
tion: now in Greek art the love of design seems to
'predominate over that of imitation ; in Michelangelo's
the two seem to hold an equal place. I do not mean

48 LECTURES ON ART.
that the Greeks had less of the imitative faculty, but that
they kept it in subordination to that of design. Nor do
I say that Michelangelo in any way excelled the Greeks
in anything that he did in the way of study from Nature,
for the work of Phidias is brought to a perfection of tmth
and beauty which Michelangelo may have striven after
but which he certainly never achieved, at all events in
his sculpture ; though I shall show you a copy of one
of his painted figures shortly, which to my mind equals
in perfection of beauty anything done by Phidias, and
that out of the force of his own single genius, for the
work of Phidias was completely unknown to him. But
this I say, that Michelangelo's best work is in no way
inferior to the very highest Greek work in point of design,
and that his imitative faculty not being kept in subordi
nation, he was enabled to see tmths that no Greek ever
dreamed of expressing. Above all, his vast imaginative
gift, the stormy poetry of his mind, the passionate Italian
nature that was in him, the soul of Dante living again in
another form, and finding its expression in another art,
led him to contemplate a treatment of the human form
which the intellectual Greek considered beyond the range
of his art.
The Greeks aimed at the perfection of decorative design,
and insomuch as the study of the human form helped*
them to arrive at that perfection, they carried it fiirther

DECORATIVE ART. 49
and to a more consummate point than has ever been
done before or since. Bat they gave themselves small
scope for the display of human passion ; when they repre
sented it, it was in a cold and dignified manner which
fails to awaken our sympathies. The figures of fighting
warriors on the pediment of the temple of ^gina, receive
and inflict wounds, and meet their death, with a fixed
smile, which shows that the artist intended to avoid the
expression of pain or passion. The Greek artists have
the supreme right to the title of Ideahsts ; they are the
true worshippers of the ideal ; the ideal of beauty once
achieved, they cared not to vary it. Witness the most
perfect specimen of their decorative art which remains,
the most perfect in the whole world ; I mean the frieze
of the Parthenon. There is not in the hundreds of
figures which form the Panathenaic procession, except by
accidents of execution, any variation of character in the
beautiful ideal forms represented, whether they be of man,
woman, or animal ; enough remains of the faces to show
that they conform to two or three types throughout witiiout
variety of character or expression — all is as perfect as
the most profound knowledge, the most skilful workman
ship, and the highest sense of beauty can make it. But
with the great Florentine the realistic tendeney is obvious
from the beginning, not to work up to an ideal of humanity,
but to study it in its countless forms of beauty and

so LECTURES ON ART,
grandeur, and its ever-varying moods, and to represent
these as truthfully as the deepest contemplation of Nature
could enable him to do. I have not time to discuss
further the subject of Greek art, but what I have said
wUl show my meaning plainly enough, and I hope make
it clear that I have no want of appreciation of those
sublimely beautiful works which v/ill be the school of art
for the whole world as long as the world lasts. In Michel
angelo we have an instance of a mind gifted with the
highest imaginative faculties, and with the most profound
love and veneration for all that is most noble, most beau
tiful, and grandest in Nature, following with the most
unwearying perseverance the road most calculated to
develop these faculties, by studying vrith accurate minute
ness the construction of the human form, so as to be able
to give the highest reality to his conceptions. Luca
Signorelli' s imaginative faculty was akin to that of Michel
angelo, and some go so far as to think that this painter's
work had an influence on Michelangelo. This may possibly
be true, and no doubt Michelangelo may have admired
this painter's work greatly. But I do not see the necessity
for supposing that Michelangelo was indebted to him for
ideas, when we consider the vastness of his genius. The
difference I wish to point out between two men, alike
in the character of their genius is, that Michelangelo's
marvellous knowledge of the human form, in which he

DECORATIVE ART. 51
stands alone, enabled him to give a splendid and tmth-
ful beauty to his figures, and to dwell on subtleties of
modelling and of outline, which are not to be found in
Luca SignoreUi's work. Astonishing as is the power of
Luca SignoreUi's imagination, and admirably true as are the
action and expression of his figures, he fell short precisely
on that point of realism which makes the enormous gulf
between him and the greater artist. Michelangelo I con
sider the greatest realist the world has ever seen ; the action,
expression, and drawing of his figures down to the minutest
folds of drapery and points of costume, down to the careful
finish given to the most trivial accessories (when used)
such as the books his figures hold, and the desks they
write on, are all studied from the point of view of being
as tme to Nature as they can be made. It was not he but
his imitators and followers who made human bodies like
sacks of potatoes ; he who never made, never could make, a
fault of anatomy in his life, has had such followers ; and who
would seem, moreover, to have gloried in thinking how
Michelangelesque was their work. It is his followers again
and not he, who make their saints and prophets write with
pens without ink, on scrolls of paper without desks.
And here there is a very general misconception, which
I must dwell on for a short time, it is so very important
that it should be set right. I have heard it said again
and again, by artists (who ought to know better) and
E 2

52 LECTURES ON ART.
Others, that Michelangelo's works may be grand in style,
they may be imaginative, they may even be beautiful
(sometimes), but they cannot be said to be true to Nature
on account of their exaggeration. You vrill all recognize
that this is the common way in which Michelangelo's
works are spoken of. Now my first notion connected with
a lecture on Art was that of vindicating Michelangelo's
honour on this point. There are, I think, many reasons,
and perhaps some good ones, for this opinion. The best
and most universally known of his works is the Last
Judgment in the Sistine Chapel, a work executed when
he was sixty years old, by which time his magnificent
manner had possibly developed into somewhat of a man
nerism' — that is to say, that whereas throughout his life
the necessities of his subjects, chosen no doubt especially
for the purpose, obliged him to depict the human form
in every beautiful variety of action and position, in his
later years this pleasure of exercising his ingenuity in
inventing and correctly representing difficulties of fore
shortening seemed to grow upon him, and in some parts
of the Last Judgment — especially in the upper part —
outweighed the more simple dignity with which most of
it is invested. The stupendous work which to my mind
1 A lecture written later will show that further study of this cele
brated fresco has considerably modified my views of it ; though there
is some truth in what is here written.

DECORATIVE ART. S3
has done most to make his name immortal is on the ceiling
of the Sistine Chapel, executed twenty years before the
Last Judgment, which is on the end wall of the same chapel ;
and it is on this work that I take my stand in placing
Michelangelo as the chief of realistic painters; not so
much on the Last Judgment, tremendous as it is both in
conception and execution. Another, and the most im
portant reason for the charge of exaggeration is, that for
some reason or another no great man has ever suffered
so much at the hands of the engravers. All with one
accord have taken it into their heads that Michelangelo's
work cannot be properly copied unless limbs and muscles
are exaggerated in a way which they would never dream
of using with another man's work ; in fact, they think it
necessary to import into their work every exaggerated
defect which they find in the works of his imitators, or
rather the defects of exaggeration to be found in the school
formed on Raphael after his death. Raphael, indeed, him
self is not exempt from having made exaggerated imita
tions of the great master. The Incendio del Borgo is
perhaps the beginning of that lumpy and inflated style, so
different from the simple and elegant work of Michelangelo.
Finding apparently that Michelangelo is not so Michel
angelesque as they expected, they feel bound to improve
upon him ; and the greatest master of drawing the world
has ever seen has had the most ill-drawn travesties of

54 LECTURES ON ART.
his finest works passed off on those who are unable to
visit the originals and judge for themselves. StUl those
who have eyes to see, can very plainly make out from
the wretched stuff that engravers have given us what
manner of man it was whose work is thus caricatured.
It is obvious that the mind which could conceive figures
so amazingly grand in intention could not be guilty of
altering Nature for the purpose of producing the grotesque
forms and faces shown us by the engravers. I fortunately
a little time ago had the opportunity of verifying for my
self what I had surmised to be trae, but much as I expected
in the way of beauty before entering the Sistine, I was
prepared rather to be overwhelmed by a magnificent
grandeur of imagination and design than to be charmed
by refined beauties of form and face ; and another element
of beauty I found which I had not expected, for the
engravings carefully avoid representing it in their copies,
and on a point of excellence for which the palm has
generally been given to another painter. I mean the
amazing subtlety, variety and truth of expression in the
faces of the Titanic beings who sit enthroned over one's
head in that amazing work. Raphael has been considered
the master of expression and beauty of face, Michelangelo
of grandeur of form ; I find the latter supreme in all.
He it was who found in Nature what beauty and what
grandeur lies in the most trivial actions, and first had

DECORATIVE ART. 55
the power to depict them. Raphael's receptive mind
seized at once on the idea, adapted it to his style, and
followed close on the great master's steps. The possibility
of verifying the truth of what I say is now, fortunately,
within reach of all amateurs of art ; for within the last
eighteen months this amazing work of which I am speak
ing, — in which the variety is so great that Vasari may well
say, " That no man who is a painter now cares to seek
new inventions, attitudes, draperies, originality, and force.
of expression," — this great work has been reproduced in
all its details in photography ; the enterprising German
who has rendered this most important service, having taken
no less than 140 negatives, all (with the exception of
seven or eight from the Last Judgment) being taken
from the ceiling. These photographs are a revelation
in art ; no one until now who has not seen the original
fresco has had the slightest idea of what Michelangelo's
work is. I have made copies of two of these photographs
to a large scale for the purpose of giving you some idea
of the beauty of his stupendous style ; and, as I say, the
photographs are within the reach of all who care to possess
them, so every one who pleases may have the opportunity
of verifying the truth of my words.
I allude to two of the naked figures which sit in pairs
on the architectural projections which form the sides of the
prophets' thrones. Each pair of these figures holds between

56 LECTURES ON ART.
them a large medallion, on which, in imitation of a relief in
bronze and gold is painted a subject from the Book of
Kings, or supports a ponderous festoon of leaves and
acorns, which is a common feature of decoration in
classical architecture, but employed in a totally new
way by Michelangelo, which the original inventor of the
idea was far from dreaming of. For there are no less
than twenty of these figures, and Michelangelo has taken
advantage of their employment to represent not only almost
every kind of action of which the position of these figures
could suggest to his great genius, but for the display of
every variety and mood of the human mind. One of
these seems the very type of life and activity ; he laughs
as he shifts the ribbon by which he supports his medallion
from one shoulder to the other; he is in the act of un
crossing his legs as he does it, and the great master of
design has arrested him in the middle of this complicated,
and, to any other artist, almost impossible movement. An
instantaneous photograph could not seize on the action
with more absolute accuracy, and there is that look of life
in his light and active limbs that you almost expect him
to continue his movement. More grand is the other as he
sits calmly reposing on his ponderous burden, profoundest
and most melancholy thought reflected on his God-like face.
Others seem to catch some faint sound of the inspiration
which the cherubs of God are whispering in the ear of the

DECORATIVE ART. S7
prophet or sibyl below, and start with affrighted and awe-
stricken looks. There is another laughing figure even more
beautiful than this one ; he lifts with ease his heavy weight
of leaves and acorns, while his fellow looks at him with an
angry glance as he struggles to raise his own share which
has slipped from his shoulder. There is a pair who con
verse over their task, and another pair perform it with
careless indifference, as il weary and uninterested ; and all
these various pictures are depicted with a realism of ex
pression and action, a beauty of form and face, an absolute
accuracy of anatomical expression, a splendour of light and
shade, a roundness of modelling, and minuteness of finish
to perfect drawing of every nail on hand or footj and the
graceful turn of every lock of hair, which" never flags for a
moment, and which is never at fault. The beauty of the
heads of these figures is beyond all that ever was done in
art ; nothing of Raphael's, to my mind, approaches them ;
and on one point he differs widely from the Greeks ; while
he gives to many of his faces the beautiful refinement of a
woman's, he has never sacrificed one atom of the manliness.
The figure before us, with all the melancholy tenderness of
its face, has nothing but the character of a man, and the
figure is massive as rock, with all the beauty of its forms.
Not so the Greeks, who made their Apollos so effeminate
that it is difficult to tell from the head whether a man or
woman is represented. The beauty of the heads of these

S8 LECTURES ON ART.
figures is, as I say, beyond all that ever was done, but it
is hardly more extraordinary than the beauty of the bodies
and limbs. The hands and feet especially are invariably
perfect, and being the most difficult part of the figure
show in contrast to most of our modern work, for they
are precisely the parts that are always the most perfectly
done and the most finished. But more wonderful than
all is the harmony of design ; the figures being in pairs,
and facing each other, they are made to a certain extent to
correspond. The perfectiy natural way in which this is
done without forcing the action of the figures into similar
forms is not the least astounding part of the work. One
pair is in action, another in repose, and yet it never occurs
to the spectator till he begins to examine the work as a
composition that this is a matter of most careful arrange
ment. The lines of composition too of each figure are not
only most harmonious in themselves, but in perfect harmony
with every figure round it. But what shall I say ? In what
words shall I express myself when I come to speak of the
inspired beings — sibyls and prophets — who sit enthroned
below ? The realization of these sublime forms is carried
to the highest pitch. Nothing so tme as the expression and
action of these figures down to the most trivial points was
ever done. The most magnificent of these figures to my
thinking is the prophet Isaiah ; he receives inspiration from a
cherub, who, with excited looks, is pointing behind him, his

DECORATIVE ART. 59
flying drapery indicating that he has come, like the winged
Mercury of the Pagans, with a direct message from Heaven.
With all the grandeur of this figure, the movement and
expression are as exactly tme as any painter of chUd-life
could desire. Turn to the prophet himself; what a subtle
combination of expressions on his face ! His right hand
drawing forth the book wherein he records the inspirations
he receives from Heaven, he listens to the Divine message
with a mingled expression of attention and wonder. His
downcast eyes have a fixed look, as though they saw not ;
his brow is half raised in wonder, half frowning in deepest
thought, and a slight look of bewUderment plays hesitating
round his mouth, as with his left hand he seems to indicate
that he has received the message and turns with the inten
tion of recording it. The massive grandeur of his features
is in accordance with the dignified repose of the action, and
over all there is the lofty look of the prophet not unaccus
tomed to hold intercourse with his God. I believe this to
be the most triumphant reahzation of a complicated expres
sion and action combined with the most consummate
grandeur of face and form that was ever achieved. The first
impression of the sight of this figure in its gigantic size on
the ceiling sixty feet above one's head is that of amazement
at the mighty art that produced it; in this case Nature
really seems to have been surpassed, and a new creation
made. But the imagination of the artist, how justly called

6o LECTURES ON ART.
divine, rises to yet higher flights when he treats of the
creation of the world, and the history of our first parents
in the centre compartments of the ceUing. But throughout,
from beginning to end, through all the hundreds of groups
and figures which make up this triumph of the decorative
art, there is this one predominant feeling ; that no matter
how supremely difficult the position or action of the figures,
no matter whether he be representing prophet, cherub, or
ordinary mortal, or even those scenes where the Almighty
rnanifests His glory in acts of creation, the expression of face
and figure is realized with the utmost attention to truth.
The draperies take not the least important place in this
expression ; they clothe and express the forms of the limbs
without affectation, and in the most natural manner; as the
figure moves so the drapery moves ; as the figure rests so
the drapery falls. Everything is in perfect balance ; the
turn of the shoulders follows the movement of the head ;
the limbs answer to and balance each other exactly as in
Nature ; and the figures have thus a more absolute vitality
than any other artist has ever been able- to give. All other
artists, except perhaps Raphael, and he only when he
had caught the inspiration from Michelangelo is to be
excepted, seem to place their figures in attitudes ; it is his
amazing and almost incredible power of seizing the pass
ing movement that makes Michelangelo's figures appear
positively alive; an instant more and the position is

DECORATIVE ART. 6i
changed. To draw from one of his figures is like drawing.
from Nature itself; it was only in copying portions of these
figures that I appreciated how profound a Realism underlies
the Ideal of this greatest of artists.
These are the mighty works that, like the gorgeous
symphonies of Beethoven and the choruses of Handel,
stand out in sublime solitude above the efforts of
other men. It will be well for students, and indeed for
all artists, to remember that, if they wish to catch some
reflections of t'ne beauties that appear revealed in these
lofty creations of genius, they will fail most egregiously if
they only aspire to imitate them ; whereas it is in the
power of each one to follow in the steps of this most
glorious master, by seeking in Nature as he did, for some
of her hidden truths, by never condescending to substitute
dexterity for knowledge, or to catch applause by wilfully
falsifying for fear that Truth should be misunderstood. In
this way they will find that it is not necessary to treat of
angels or prophets to produce a thing of beauty, for realism
of this noble kind can glorify the humblest subject.

LECTURE II.i

OLD AND NEW ART.

I HAVE no intention in the present discourse of passing
in review the whole history of Old and New Art, or of
drawing out at length the comparison between them. I
intend, on the contrary, so far from attempting to exhaust
the subject, to confine myself to the consideration of a
few reasons only for the difference between our Modern
Art and that of previous ages — a difference to my mind
not in favour of the former — and to a brief inquiry as to
how far we may hope that our work will ever attain as
high a standard as that of the Old Masters, and what
direction it should take to arrive at this result.
I have been led to the discussion of this subject, because
it is not uncommonly believed and asserted, that the Art
of our day may be shown to be in advance of that of the
past ; or rather, that, if not equal to it in some so-called
^ This Lecture was given at the Royal Institution, May 1872.

OLD AND NEW ART. 63
technical or academical qualities, it is acquiring so many
important " new lights " from the general progress of know
ledge, that its development into an Art taking its stand
point on a higher ground than that which we have been
accustomed to call High Art, is only a question of time,
of the spread of a more general art-education, and, more
especially, of certain ideas.
We are all familiar with the argument, which, whUe it
admits that the great artists of history, whether Greek or
Italian, may have conceived and realized an ideal of the
human form which in these days we cannot pretend to
rival, yet insist that ideas on this subject are, to use a
modern vulgarism, " played out; " that we want our art to
be more in accordance with the spirit of the age, which
is an age of realities and progress ; that our art must be
above all realistic, and show us Nature as we see her
around us, and that it must also progress and keep
pace with the advancement of science and education, so
as to give us something new. As science is perpetually
startling us with new discoveries, so art must also break
new ground and strike out a fresh path. I do not say
that the argument, put into this broad and coarse form,
exactly expresses the opinion of any really thoughtful
persons ; but it is at the root of much that is vn-itten and
said on the subject, and that by persons in a position to
influence public taste, and. who at all events imagine they

64 LECTURES ON ART.
have well considered the subject; and it is so plausible
as to require refutation.
It is apparently not obvious to every one at first sight
wherein lies the great distinction between science and
art, which restrains the latter within certain impassable
boundaries, while there is apparently no possible limit to
the discoveries and novelties of which the former is
capable. Persons who argue in the way just noticed do not
see how it is the very essence of an art to have a certain
ideal or standard, which is understood to be a limit, though
it may never be actually attained ; while in the case of
science the field of operation is ever widening ; that as
art can only appeal to our minds or hearts through our
senses, unless it does so on soine principle of choice or
selection, we gain no more from it than we gain from the
observation of Nature itself. Now since the human form
and face, containing as they do the highest qualities of
beauty which Nature presents for our admiration, form
the highest study to which an artist can devote himself,
and since the aspects not only of human but of all natural
beauty are the same in all ages, it follows that there is
no new discovery to be made in the matter, and that
the only possible development is in the power of expres
sion. Not seeing, or even caring to see this, our modem ^
critics are not in a position to judge how near to perfection
in the attainment of this ideal the art of the past arrived.

OLD AND NEW ART. 65
or how nearly it reached the hmits beyond which art is
incapable of further progress. What then they really desire
in the present day, is a kind of art which shall appeal
more directly to minds incapable of appreciating its more
elevated characteristics. This they persuade themselves
would be a higher development, because appealing to a
wider range. But here we must pause. A wider range —
of what ? Of sympathies ? No ; but of minds incapable
of large syrripathies. The argument that the progress of
knowledge has given us new and more varied themes for
expression, and therefore tends to produce a further de
velopment of art, must fall to the ground, unless it can
be shown that these themes are of a kind that lend
themselves specially to artistic treatment.
The tmth is, that any attempt to rival or surpass
the chef d'xuvres of the past must be made on the
same conditions and in the same spirit that animated
the producers of those great works. Were science to
discover for us the cause of every natural phenomenon
that exists — nay, were it to reach the inmost sources of
life or light — the glow of the evening sky would be none
the more or less beautiful, nor the grace of a child's move
ments one whit diminished or increased. These indeed
are eternal and unchangeable beauties, and it is with
these that the artist has to do ; and though he may never
be able to attain to the complete expression of them, the
F

66 LECTURES ON ART.
end of them has always been and ever will be within
the range of his conceptions, since they live for ever for
his continual contemplation. I have therefore no hesita
tion in saying that art has lost more than it has gained
by our modern modes of thought and feeling, and that
if it be asked why we cannot put away the traditions of
the past, and work in the modern spirit, the answer is,
that the modern spirit is becoming daily more opposed
to the artistic spirit, and is precisely what hampers its
expression ; that what is good in the art of to-day, is good
in the same way, and for the same reasons, as the old ;
that we have no lights on the subject which were not
also clear to the old masters ; and that where we seem
to have struck out a new path, we have only chosen one
which they purposely and rightly rejected; while where
we seem to have discovered a new truth, it proves to be
one beside the question.
Now there are, I think, two causes to be found for the
immense difference in the aim and results of our modern
work as compared with that of the ancients. One of
these is a noble cause ; and is due to the spread of a
philosophy, I might almost call it a religion, which insists
that there are certain qualities, moral or divine, inherent
in ideas or impressions of beauty, which the artist must
recognise in order to produce a high form of art. The
second is an ignoble cause, and may be broadly stated

OLD AND NEW ART. 67
as due to the fact that artists, from motives of indolence
or interest, have allowed themselves to be led by the
opinion of the pubhc, instead of being, as of old, in
different to it, or themselves leading the way to a better
appreciation on the part of the public of the capabihties
of art. Now both these causes have, curiously enough,
led to the same result; I mean they have both been
instrumental in leading to a prevalent belief that the
imitation of Nature, or perhaps I should say the record
of impressions of Nature, is the aim and purpose of the
artist It will be necessary then, before going further,
that we should inquire in what way and how far a mere
imitation of Nature may result in a work of art. And in
speaking of imitation, I must be understood to use the
word in the sense of copying. Fuseli indeed marks a
difference between copying and imitation, and defines it
in this way : " Precision of eye and obedience of hand
are the requisites of the former, without the least pretence
to choice, what to select, what to reject; whUst choice,
directed by judgment or taste, constitutes the essence of
imitation, and alone can raise the most dexterous copyist to
the noble rank of an artist." It seems to me, however, that
it is impossible for an artist not to choose what he is going
to paint; he may choose stupidly, but a choice of some
kind he must make ; so, with this slight difference, I apply
FuseU's ' definition of copying to what I mean by imitation.-
F 2

68 LECTURES ON ART.
When I say that the belief of which I am speaking
is a very prevalent one, I judge not only by what is
said and written on the matter, but by the large quantity
of merely imitative work which is to be met with in our
numerous art-exhibitions, and the amount of success such
¦work meets with. Now it is quite true that an imitation
of Nature may be a work of art ; when at its best, it calls
forth all the highest technical qualities of the painter, the
qualities that distinguish him as a painter from the poet,
who presents to us Nature in another way. These technical
qualities, this " precision of eye and obedience of hand "
requisite for the rendering of colour and form, include the
whole art of painting, and are found in perfection only
in the work of the most highly-gifted artists ; but they
distinctly belong only to the painter as such, and are inde
pendent ofthe higher mental faculties. On the other hand,
being the qualities which are necessary to his existence
as a painter, those without which he is nothing, they take
the lowest place among the artistic faculties. The fact
however remains, that a mere imitation of Nature, what is
called realistic painting (though I should be inclined to
call it materialistic, a true realism being of the highest
forms of art i) — the fact remains that this imitati-v»e painting
may be so admirably done as to become of a high order
^ I have endeavoured to show in the previous lecture, that idealism
is only the highest form of realism.

OLD AND NEW ART. 69
of merit. It is the essence of portrait-painting, though
for a good portrait othei: qualities are doubtless required.
It is the essence also of landscape-painting, though for
good landscapes other qualities are required, and it is
all that is necessary for stUl-life painting. Nevertheless it
is only the groundwork of ideal art, and is hke the language
in which the poet expresses his thoughts. It is indeed
the language of art, and may be used by the artist for
three purposes. It may be used by the mere imitator to
present the ordinary aspects of Nature ; it may be used
by an artist of taste to express, through a knowledge of
these aspects, his selection of what he considers best worth
portraying ; and thirdly, by the gifted man of genius to
give form to his imagination, which, rising above mere
" choice directed by judgment and taste," directs itself
to the higher flights of creative powers. This imaginative
power of the artist is the result of the selection and com
bination of the impressions received during a long and
intimate acquaintance with Nature; depending, according
to Mr. Darwin, on the strength and variety of our im
pressions, on the rapidity with which they are conveyed
to our mind, and our power of retaining and combining
them. Mr. Ruskin also explains the imagination to be
a certain mode of regarding or combining the ideas which
the mind has received from external Nature, the impressions
being thus obviously the groundwork for the imagination,

70 LECTURES ON ART.
and the highest art that which gives form to the imagina
tion of the artist, not that which records impressions
received immediately from Nature herself. And this imagi
native faculty in the hands of men of great genius is of
a truly creative kind; for is not the result of their com
binations akin to the creation of a new world for the
enjoyment, intellectual and moral, of those who can
understand it? Has not Michelangelo created for us a
new and superior order of beings? whose grandeur may
indeed be felt but not defined ; so that writers have
exhausted language in the attempt to give utterance to
the emotion called up by his power. As when Rqjynolds
impressively says, "I feel a self-congratulation in knowing
myself capable of such sensations as he intended to excite;"
and Fuseli, " His women are moulds of generation, his
infants teem with the man, his men are a race of giants ; "
and Ruskin, " His inexplicable power proceeds from an
imaginative perception almost superhuman, which goes
whither we cannot follow, and is where we cannot come ;
throwing naked the final, deepest root of the being of
man, whereby he grows out of the invisible, and holds on
his God home;" and again, when he speaks of "the troops
of terror torn up from the earth by the four-quartered
winds of the Judgment" .... making "the hair stand
up and the words be few ; " — language which bears witness
to faculties of a truly creative nature, for of none other

OLD AND NEW ART. 71
could it be used. So then the aim of all high art is — the
aim of all art (except that which professes to be portrai
ture)- — should be to create a world in which our imagina^
tions should be excited to the contemplation of noble
and beautiful ideas; and in proportion as it fails to do
this, so does it differ from the great att of the old
masters, who, intentionally or instinctively, ever had this
aim in view.
It is not difficult then to see the reason why landscape-
painting is necessarily put in the second rank of art; for
even if the impressions recorded be of the highest beauty,
StiU it is but a record and an imitation, though still an
imitation which may come under the head of Fuseli's
second definition as being "directed by judgment and
taste ; " and it is one most difficult oi accomplishment,
requiring artistic skUl of the highest order, on account
of the subtle and fleeting effects which it is the , delight
and glory of the landscape-painter to recaU. And of the
same nature as this highest form of landscape is the
more elevated form of portrait-painting, which aims at
recording not only the features and costume, but all the
nobler characteristics of the subject, taking, however, a
second place, as being a recording and not a creative
art. Lower than this must be placed what is called stiU-
hfe painting, and that kind of landscape which is of the
matter-of-fact portrait kind. However beautiful the subject

72 LECTURES ON ART.
chosen for imitation may be, these only appeal to us in
so far as the subject in Nature itself appeals to us, or
please us according to the amount of technical skUl dis
played. Still lower again is that kind of realistic portrait-
painting which we find in the modern French school,
which presents a specious appearance of originality by
ignoring the necessity for presenting the subject to us
under an agreeable form, and so repels us in spite of an
undoubted technical skUfulness. To this kind of realism
I am not sure that I do not prefer our own fashionable
school of portraiture, as showing the faint tradition of
a desire to ennoble the subject by the treatment. The
basest degradation of the art is, however, revealed in that
brutal rendering of noble subjects, in which the French
realistic painters take especial delight ; where with insolent
bravado everything is done with a direct intention of dis
gusting us, and of showing how an ignoble and ferocious
mood may triumph over the purity and dignity with which
such themes have been hitherto invested. Of this kind
is t'ne " Salom^ " of Regnault, which it is worth whUe to
compare with the graceful treatment of the same figure
by the early Italian painters.
Nearly on the same level, but not always so low, are
the Dutch painters, who treat us to gross representations
of drunken scenes ; they are not so low, because the plea
sure they take in these things is merely stupid, and not

OLD AND NEW ART. 73
cynical. With the Dutch painters indeed, as in the case of
Ostade (who does not always descend to these subjects, but
as often paints for us the homely pleasures of a contented
if somewhat degraded peasantry), there is constantly a
perception of the poetical beauty of glowing light and
softened and mysterious shade, and a delicate skill in
rendering them, which makes us forget the poverty and
grossness of the idea. There is no such redeeming feature,
however, in the same scenes when painted by Jan Steen,
whose remarkable power of rendering expression only
adds, as one may say, to his disgrace, so that the better the
art displayed in the imitation the more base is the result.^
Now if we reflect a moment on the various styles of
painting I have thus briefly noticed, we shall find that they
are all, with the exception of the higher kind of portraiture,
of comparatively modern invention ; they have all come
into practice since the end of the sixteenth century, up
to which period art rested on that high level of which I
have spoken, being of a purely creative and ideal nature.
We may call them, if we please, developments of that
1 The knowledge and experience which efface prejudice again lead
me, if pot to modify the severity of this paragraph, to add that the
disgust excited by Jan Steen's usual subjects and his gross treatment of
them, is considerably qualified when one knows and can appreciate his
inimitable power of expression and masterly execution. His touch
combines a certainty and a finish which in his best works are quite
exquisite.

74 LECTURES ON ART.
high school, but the development is from a creative to
an imitative art. Now the creative necessarily includes
the imitative ; that is to say, a knowledge of natural forms
and a fully-trained power of imitating them is what the
creative artist starts from — they are the indispensable in
struments of his genius; to descend again to the level
of mere imitation, and to remain there as if there were
nothing higher, is therefore to take up a distinctly lower
position. Nor can we consider the position thus assumed
to be a new one, for it is not to be supposed that the
Florentine and Venetian painters, who painted the land
scape of their backgrounds with such exquisite perception
of the very essence of its beauty, never painted landscape
pure and simple for want of appreciation ; it was because
they felt it but an imperfect form of art which should rely
simply on its power of recalling impressions. Titian indeed
has left us pictures of almost pure landscape, but they
are rather in the nature of a diversion from his other and
more serious work, being painted but occasionally out of
the fulness of his delight in the beauty of his native
mountain scenery.
And so of fruit and flower-painting. There was no
painter up to the end of the sixteenth century who would
not have scorned to sit down to make a picture of a
bunch of roses or a plate of peaches. In theu- beautiful
ideal representations of the Infant Christ and His Virgin

OLD AND NEW ART. 75
Mother, these men could indeed conceive no more de
lightful manner of enriching their pictures with forms of
beauty than by decorating them with garlands of fruit and
flowers, and we may be sure they took as keen a pleasure
in painting these innocent beauties of nature as any stUl-
life painter of the Dutch, French, or English schools.
Herein, however, lies the difference between the old and
the new feeling in such matters. A work of pure imitation
per se was a thing unknown up to the end of the sixteenth
century, not because it did not occur to the sculptors
and painters of those times to produce such work, but
because they rejected it as not worthy of consideration,
knowing well that true art is a different thing. Modern
art, on the other hand — I mean that part of it which is
modern in spirit — aims at nothing more than recalling the
impressions which all of us, who have a few shreds of
poetic sensibility, receive from the more obvious beauties
of Nature, and in this way makes an appeal to a wide
circle of sympathies, though, as I have already noticed,
those sympathies may be of the shallowest kind. In
rendering what is purely beautiful, it finds its expression
in that school of landscape-painting which has reached
perhaps its highest point in some of Turner's best work ;
its lowest in the mass of still-life flower and fruit-painting,
of which I suppose WUliam Hunt is the most refined
and skUful exponent. With that other phase of modern

76 LECTURES ON ART.
art which deals not with the beauty of Nature but its
grossness or inanity, I have for the present nothing to do.
For the difference above noticed I have said that there
are two causes, one noble and one ignoble. To begin
with the first : it seems rather startling to say that a noble
idea may also be a misleading one ; but it is rather in the
application of the idea to art, not in other considerations
to which it gives rise, that the idea appears to me fallacious.
Now when I speak of a noble phUosophy of art, amounting
almost to a religion, it is obvious whom I have in my
mind as the exponent of this phUosophy or the prophet
of this religion — the name of Mr. Ruskin cannot fail at
once to present itself. It is with no small amount of
diffidence, and with some misgiving, that I venture to differ
from so gifted a writer, especially on a point which he
would, and indeed in all his teaching does insist on as
a vital one. With diffidence, for it is quite possible that
I have missed, either altogether or in part, his meaning,
or do not see deeply enough into it ; with misgiving, for
he has the world enough against him already, and it may
be (if indeed he is ever aware of the fact) a natural source
of vexation to him to find that I, occupying a post analogous
to his own, and holding a responsibility for art-teaching
which must make my views in some sense of importance
for right or wrong, should hold on a point of vital interest
in art-teaching an opinion different from his own. But

OLD AND NEW ART. 77
I feel that this idea of his which I am about to challenge
leads to so much that is false in the art of this country,
and to the production of so much of this merely recording
work, under the notion that such is the true aim of the
painter, that I boldly run whatever risk may befall me in
endeavouring to point out its error.
I quote Mr. Ruskin's own words from the second volume
of Modern Painters, where he enunciates his whole theory
of art. They are as follows : — " I wholly deny that the
impressions of beauty are in any way sensual ; they are
neither sensual nor intellectual, but moral ; " ^ and again
in a later work, the Crown of Wild Olive : — " No state
ment of mine has been more earnestly and oftener
contradicted than that good taste is essentially a moral
quality." I can hardly therefore be mistaken as to the
assertion, though, as I say, I may have faUed to grasp
the whole of the meaning. With regard to the sense of
the word " sensual," he explains it in the sentence before
the one first quoted as equivalent to "aesthetic;" "the
term ' sesthesis,' " he writes, " properly signifies mere
sensual perception of the outward qualities and necessary
effects of bodies." This, although tme, slightly degi-ades
the meaning of the word sesthetic, which may surely be
applied to our mental as well as our sensual perceptions.
The word sensual too has come to be used in a lower
^ Modern Painters, vol. ii, chap. ii. § i.

78 LECTURES ON ART.
meaning than sesthetic (as when we speak of " sensual "
pleasures, meaning the pleasures by which we gratify our
lower appetites), so I prefer, for fear of misapprehension,
the word "sesthetic."
Now in insisting that our ideas and impressions of
beauty are in reality what Mr. Ruskin denies them to
be, esthetic, I labour under the disadvantage of appearing
to abstract from them that elevated character which Mr.
Ruskin has ascribed to them in his chapters on typical
beauty. But observe, I do not in any way deny the truth,
the philosophical truth, of this view of ideas of beauty,
I only say it is beside the question, and may easily lead
to false conclusions with regard to art. It is not that I
hold the error to be in the assertion of the moral quality
in impressions of beauty, but in the inference that the
perception of this quality is essential to the production
of a true work of art, and that it is under the influence
of such perception that all good art has been produced.
I can indeed conceive of no writing more calculated to
elevate our moral and intellectual nature than the chapters
in which Mr. Ruskin treats of the different forms of beauty
as types of the Divine attributes; for not only those
chapters, but the whole of his works from beginning to
end, set before us more exalted conceptions of the beauty
and sublimity of Nature than has ever been presented to
us in words, amounting, as I have said, almost to the

OLD AND NEW ART. 79
setting forth of a new religion of the purest and noblest
t}'pe. But to me it is impossible not to feel throughout
that the typical qualities are not really inherent in forms
of beauty, but exist in the mind of the spectator, which
may be excited with equal readiness to their contemplation,
by every form of art which professes to represent them.
For, be it observed, if the sesthetic nature of these im
pressions be denied, the seeing pOwer of the artist, which
is distinctly his sesthetic faculty — distinguishing him from
those who cannot receive impressions of beauty — is left
out of the account also ; in which case the earnest intention
of the painter, his intense love of Nature, his profound
veneration and affection for the moral beauties to be found
in the most trivial of God's works, may easUy lead him to
the belief that, as long as he devotes himself to the imita
tion of these works, he is setting forth the glory of the
Creator in a better way than if he used his powers for
the purpose of selection and combination. " Let the
young artist beware of the spirit of Choice ; it is an inso
lent spirit at the best," says Mr. Ruskin, as a sequel to
saying 'that " if we can only admire this thing or that, we
may be sure that our cause for liking is of a finite and
false nature." ^ He must pardon me if I think that not
only here but throughout his works he has not sufficiently
separated two ideas. He confuses the faculty by which
1 Modern Painters, vol. iii. chap. ii. § § 11, 12.

So LECTURES ON ART.
we may all derive a moral benefit from a humble con
templation of the infinite beauties and wonders of creation,
with that artistic faculty which frames for us and forces
upon us the perception and appreciation of those generic
beauties which are not obvious to the unexercised or
unperceiving mind. It is no doubt tme that we receive
a more elevated understanding of the import of this world
and of this life the more we have illustrated to us the
nature of God, and in this way these impressions of beauty
may have an ennobling effect on our whole moral nature ;
but this is really beside the question. When we are con
sidering them in relation not to our own ininds, but to
their capacity for representation in art, we have to decide
not what excites in us the highest religious or moral
emotions, but how far art is capable of conveying these
emotions to the mind. Otherwise, if we insist too much
upon the moral character of the impressions of beauty,
we should have to admit that the man in whom they
excite the most rapturous moral enthusiasm is of necessity
the greatest artist, rather than he who is distinguished by
his perceptive and discriminating gift.
An artist indeed may possess his enthusiasm for beauty
in this " theoretic " form, but how is he to explain in his
work that this is the case ? It is doubtless easy to answer
that the artist who enjoys this high moral perception of
beauty must show it in his work if his art is good; but

OLD AND NEW ART. 8i
it is quite open to the .spectator to deny that he finds any
trace of this emotion in the work, and so to condemn it ;
in which case we are led back to the original proposition,
that the moral qualities of beauty exist only in the mind
of the beholder, who can supply them to any work of art
which he considers to set forth these beauties most clearly.
If the views contained in the preceding remarks have
been stated with sufficient clearness, it will now be per
ceived how these ideas may lead to that kind of art
which I have explained as being rather of a recording
and imitative, than of a creative character. The beauty
of nature is very much more obvious in certain of its
aspects and forms than in others. For one man who has
the sesthetic faculty of being pleasurably affected by the
beautiful forms and proportions of the " Venus of Melos,"
or Michelangelo's " Slave " — that is, by the subtle distinc
tions of line which in Nature go to make the difference
between a form of high beauty, and one that is of a mean
or vulgar kind — ^there are a hundred who can feel the
glory of a sunset or the exquisite tints of an anemone.
Since therefore the moral qualities of typical beauty are
set forth to the mind which can see them, as gloriously
in these last as in fhe first, and may even be set up on
a higher pmnacle, as exemplifying types of, purity and
humUity in contrast to mere sensual, and therefore (by a
verbal quibble) degraded, love of form for its own sake ;

82 LECTURES ON ART.
it is not difficult for an artist to persuade himself that he
is doing the most earnest and right-minded work in endea
vouring humbly and patiently to imitate those beauties
to the utmost of his power, and so convey to others the
emotion that he feels.
Nay more, he may go further ; he may persuade himself
that there is nothing else worth doing, and that this work
alone is of a pure and spiritual nature, all other being
sensual, and therefore demoralising; so that, as with the
ascetics of old, there is no kind of work too humble for
him to devote himself to it. Or what is worse than this
(for work done really in earnest and with a spirit of
patience has always in it something of value, and I may
add that no good work can ever be done without this
spirit), the spectator may well imagine that the mind of
the painter who laboriously produces for us again and
again bunches of primroses and violets, is actuated by
some exalted, earnest feeling, and in possession of some
high theoretic faculty, while in trath he has only been
exerting a mere imitative and technical skUl and what
amount of sesthetic faculty he may possess, and moreover
only exercising just so much of his faculties as wiU enable
him to make money in the quickest and readiest way.
Thus it is quite possible for such a theorist, if himself
destitute of the sesthetic perception, to exalt bad and
fantastic work over good, if he imagines it to give a

OLD AND NEW ART. 83
higher expression to the typical nature of beauty ; so that
the critic who is not offended by the crude and discordant
yellow and blue of one of Turner's later' sunset pictures,
may believe that he finds in it a deeper perception of the
infinity and- purity of the evening sky than in his earher
work, and may thus be led to ascribe to it an artistic
value which it does not possess. In the same way too
he might exalt the birds'-nests of William Hunt over the
mighty conceptions of Michelangelo and Phidias, if he
imagines he perceives this earnest faculty in the one and
not in the others.
As a proof that this is possible, we have only to look
at the amount of artistic talent that is spent on painting
little groups of fruit and flowers, or small landscape studies,
when it might be developed into something better if the
artist did not stop short with the idea suggested by this
train of thought, that he is in this way doing the only
right work. It is not altogether Mr. Ruskin's fault that a
noble theory has led to such poor results, for it is the
misfortune of all great ideas that they degenerate most
easily into cant ; in illustration of which point I may
relate an instance, which has come under my own notice,
of a person who visited an artist's studio, and after having
been shown pictures and designs of no mean order of
beauty, begged to be allowed to see some of his " earnest
work, his study of leaves and flowers." G 2

84 LECTURES ON ART.
If then I have made my meaning clear, I shall be under
stood to have said that the idea must be expressed in a
work of art, and not merely exist in the mind of the artist,
or be supplied by that of the beholder ; that the moral
nature of beauty is of a kind that cannot be expressed
in painting or sculpture ; that therefore, as far as art is
concerned, ideas of beauty are and must be purely sesthetic,
and that the contrary theory is not only calculated to lead
criticism astray where the sesthetic faculty is wanting, but
may even induce an indifference on the part of the artist
to any higher forms of beauty than those which are at
once obvious to the uneducated mind.
I will not now stop to discuss another point in Mr.
Ruskin's writings which appears at first sight to bear on
this subject; I mean the idea which runs throughout his
works of the necessity for a right state of moral feeling,
not only in producers but in nations and epochs, as
essential to the appreciation and production of a noble
and beautiful art. I may remark, however, that even if it
can be shown that the best art has always arisen out of
a pure state of national faith and domestic virtue, it does
not follow that those conditions will always produce good
art. If the esthetic qualities be absent they certainly
never wUl; and I can imagine no condition of national
virtue which could cram ideas of beauty into the head
of an average Enghshman or Scotchman; but as far as

OLD AND NEW ART. 85
regards the artist himself, it appears to be unquestionable
that the sesthetic faculties being in two instances equal,
there will be no comparison between the art of a man of
a pure and noble mind and one of a mean and sordid
nature. Indeed the very highest artistic gifts seem to imply
also a noble and healthy moral condition. Michelangelo
was himself one of the most simple and high-minded of
men, incapable of any act of meanness ; and we should
find, I think, on examination that all the truly great artists
and poets have been of the same nature. But I have been
led much further into- the question of the moral nature of
beauty than I at first intended. It is a question which
when Once taken up is not to be lightly dismissed, and
having given much serious thought to the matter, I can
only hope that I have not in any way misunderstood Mr.
Ruskin's meaning ; still more do I hope that I have not
wrongly represented it (which indeed I could only do
under a misunderstanding). Here then I must leave this
difficult and interesting subject, to touch upon the second
cause of the poverty-stricken nature of our modern art as
compared with the old. This second cause I asserted to
be of an ignoble kind, and I cannot but feel a slight sense
of degradation that it is necessary to express an opinion
on this matter at all ; I shall accordingly dismiss this part
of the subject as briefly as possible.
I have spoken of this second cause as arising from the

86 LECTURES ON ART.
fact that artists, from motives of indolence or interest,
have allowed themselves to be led by the public instead
of, as of old, taking the lead in forming the public taste.
To this is to be added what I have already touched upon
as another reason for the prdduction of the amount of
imitative work which we see in our exhibitions, namely,
the obvious nature of the beauty of certain forms of crea
tion. It is this which brings into the field a number of
workers, having in some cases a considerable amount
of technical skUl, who would in ancient Greece or in
Italy have taken the place of workmen under some artist
of genius, but who now, yielding to a false taste on the
part of the public, keep it supplied with the kind of art
which it is best able to appreciate. And here I may quote
an apposite saying of Sir J. Reynolds : " It is certain
that the lowest style will be the most popular, as it comes
within the compass of ignorance itself, and the vulgar will
always be pleased with what is natural in the confined
and misunderstood sense of the word." And again : " In
the inferior parts of the art the learned and the ignorant
are nearly on a level." With this authority I feel in a
position to repeat my original assertion, that modem art
has strack outfor itself a path which the ancients disdained
to follow, and has developed itself in the direction which
no genuine artist or man of taste would ever wish to see
it pursue, having lowered itself to the appreciation of a

OLD AND NEW ART. 87
class of patrons and admirers unknown to the older artists.
We find this sort of work, it is true, among the Dutch
painters as far back as the end of the seventeenth or
beginning of the eighteenth century, but they were men
who (always excepting Rembrandt, one of the greatest
geniuses of the world) hardly rose to the appreciation of
anything beyond mere technical skill, and were wholly
destitute of imagination. We never find it, however,
among the Spanish painters, truly realistic as they are in
the highest sense in their portraiture, and capable through
their realism of giving a terrible truth to their representa
tions of the great tragedies of Scripture ; and though we
find what are caUed flower-pieces among the Italian
painters of the seventeenth century, they are always more
or less decoratively arranged. They are, in fact, a de
velopment of the decorative school of Raphael; a back
ward development it is tme, indicating the decay of a
high artistic spirit, but one which still retains something
of the old idea that the beauty of nature must be brought
in subjection to the mind of the artist, and used for some
better purpose than merely showing that he loves it and
is capable of producing a skilful facsimile. I must men
tion that under this head of imitation I include, besides
stUl-life and the lower form of landscape, all that kind
of figure-painting which, while it professes to illustrate a
subject, is animated by no love of beauty or sentiment

88 LECTURES ON ART.
of a noble kind, but contents itself with copying vulgar
models dressed in some well-known and favourite costume.
It is not to be supposed that in old times the world
at large was better informed on matters of art, or of
better judgment, than our modern English public ; but
up to this date it has always been considered right that
in these matters artists should have the privilege of
teaching the public to discriminate between bad and good
taste in art. The people of Greece and Italy were con
tent to accept what artists gave them, only occasionally,
with the popular voice of ridicule, condemning any flagrant
piece of bad work presented to them. But it is now so
much the fashion for artists to bow to the opinion of
the public on these matters, that I doubt if it is possible
for the most independent to be entirely careless about
the criticisms that are passed upon his work. I do not
refer to those special criticisms that for some reasons best
known to themselves all newspaper editors feel bound to
put forth whenever an exhibition is opened or a gallery
of pictures sold ; in these cases where one critic praises
another condemns, so that no harm is done after all;
but what I mean is, that it is almost impossible for the
best artist in these days to free himself from the feeling
that his work is in some way put forward for criticism, and
untU he can do this there is not much chance of the attain
ment of a better style, for such criticism is almost always

OLD AND NEW ART. 89
sure td be wrong, and is far worse for the artist when it
praises than when it blames. Baron Leys is reported to
have said, that whenever any one specially praised a
portion of his picture he painted it out as soon as he was
left alone. It is not all of us who have the moral courage
to do this, but the principle probably is the right one.
But it may be said, and indeed this is the great argument
of those who talk of the encouragement of a modern art,
that the taste of the day has altered, and we no longer
desire that style which appeals only to the cultivated few,
but one which suits the taste of the whole public. In
answer to that I would say, in the first place, with
Reynolds : " We wUl not allow a man who shall prefer
the inferior style to say it is his taste : taste here has
nothing, or ought to have nothing, to do with the ques
tion; he wants, not taste, but sense, and soundness of
judgment ; " and, in the second place, that it ought to
be clear to every one that the only way in which artists
should appeal to the public is by giving it the best they
can produce, and so raising the standard of taste to their
own level. I have on another occasion said what I have
to say concerning that class of artists, be they painters,
sculptors, architects, or decorative furniture makers, who
produce only for the market. Words are wasted on
and against them. Nothing that I can say will avaU
where the dignified remonstrances, which Mr. Ruskin

go LECTURES ON ART.
continually addresses to those whom in one most eloquent
appeal he calls worshippers of the "Slave of Slaves,"
are of no effect. " You cannot serve two masters ;
— you must, serve the one or the other. If your work
is first with you, and your fee second, work is your
master, and the Lord of work, which is God. But if
your fee is first with you, and your work second, fee
is your master, and the Lord of fee, who is the Devil ;
and not only the Devil, but the lowest of these — 'the
least erected fiend that fell.' " He is not, it is true,
speaking specially to artists in this exhortation, but to
all workers alike ; but if it is trae for the labourer, it is
more true for the artist, who has a higher mission to
fulfil than most men have. I have no desire to moralise
unnecessarily, or to give myself any airs of superiority on
this point ; in doing our best work, which we cannot but
do if our love for the work be genuine and "above the
fee," we have an undoubted right to demand from the
rich, who make a luxury of possessing our work, the price
that they are wiUing to pay for it. So I say no raore
on this point. I had far better leave the treatment of
it to that eloquent writer whose name has been so fre
quently mentioned in the course of this lecture, who has
shown in his life and acts, in his noble and single-minded
devotion to the cause he has taken up — the cause of art
and the well-being of his fellow-workmen — and in his

OLD AND NEW ART. 91
courageous bearing against more laughter and opposition
than has fallen to the lot of most men, no less than in
his writings, an example of what every worker should be.
He tells us that he is surprised that he is_ unable to force
his ideas into his readers' heads. When the world is
animated by as pure and high-minded a spirit as his own,
he may find reason for surprise, but not tUl then.
If then we are to look forward to the more general
production of a class of art of that high creative kind
which I have dwelt on, and which is at present decidedly
in the background in this land — although I must confess
that I think there is now a decided move in the right
direction and a desire for something more serious — we
must, I think, in the first place rely on the cultivation of
our perceptive faculties to show us the high beauties that
lie beneath the surface of nature. We shall then get rid
of the notion that little pictures of fruit and flowers and
landscape are anything more than studies to help us in
the execution of better work, or to be done from time
to time as mementos of some specially delightful aspect
of nature. Above all, moreover, we must study the works
of the great masters of antiquity. " Study the great works
of the great masters," says Reynolds, "for ever. Study
nature attentively, but always with those masters in your
company; consider them as models which you are to
imitate, and at the same time as rivals with whom you

92 LECTURES ON ART.
are to contend." We must also, if we can, and on this
point I feel the less hopeful^though every artist can if
he pleases assist in the work^eliminate the mercantile
spirit. It is weU known that what some suppose to be
an increasing love of art in this country, as shown by
the high prices given for paintings, is now nothing more
than a speculation in pictures ; that the majority of buyers
will not purchase unless they can " buy safe," as the saying
is ; which means that they do not buy pictures for the
enjoyment to be derived from them, but in order to sell
them again. If a certain pleasure in their acquisition
enters into their calculations, it is just as likely to be a
spirit of emulation in outdoing some other buyer, as real
pleasure derived from art ; and even in this case they
wUl not buy till they feel sure that they will not ultimately
lose. This may not be — is not — true of all, but it is
certainly true of a large class. I never in my life re
member to have experienced a feeling of deeper shame
(shared by others of the artists present), than on the occa
sion of a late Academy banquet, when one guest after
another rose to congratulate us on the enormous sums
that had been given for the pictures disposed of at the
late Mr. GiUot's sale. Mr. Gladstone was no exception
to the number, though he finally quahfied his observations
with some remarks in which he showed his better nature,
and with which I cannot do better than conclude, as they

OLD AND NEW ART. 93
sum up in a few lucid and eloquent phrases all that I
have been endeavouring to express. " Do not," he said,
" allow it to be supposed that the mere patronage of
fashion, the mere reward offered by high price, is sufficient
to secure tme excellence ; and remember that it is the
intelligent worship of beauty, and the effort to produce
it, which constitute the basis of all excellence in art ; and
that ages which have been poor, and which have been
in some respects comparatively barbarous, have notwith
standing provided for us the models and patterns to which
the most highly developed civilisations can but attempt
to aspire."

LECTURE III.i
SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION.
A MOST munificent bequest has enabled this College
to found a School of Fine Art. Under the name of
Slade Professors, Lecturers on the Fine Arts have been
appointed at the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, the
endowments in both cases being derived from bequests by
the late Mr. Felix Slade. To the liberality of the same
gentleman is owed the foundation of this school.
The bequest to this College is however on a somewhat
different footing from those to the Universities of Oxford
and Cambridge, inasmuch as, by the terms of the WUl, a
sum of 10,000/. was bequeathed for the institution of six
scholarships, of 50/. a year each, to be awarded to students
in the College under the age of nineteen years, for pro
ficiency in the Fine Arts ; and in addition, a certain sum
^ Address delivered at the opening of the Slade School of Fine
Art in University College, London, October 2, 1871.

SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION. 95
was to be devoted to the endowment of a Professorship.
The CouncU of the College felt in consequence that
the views of the testator would be better carried out by
establishing a practical School of Fine Arts, than by merely
appointing a lecturing Professor, as at the other Univer
sities ; and to the furtherance of this object the Executors
of Mr. Felix Slade generously devoted an additional sum
of 5,000/. for the purpose of erecting a suitable buUding.
In the consideration of these matters much, if not most,
of what has been done, especially with regard to the
buUding of these schools, is due to the untiring, the in
exhaustible energy of the late Mr. Edwin Field, Member
of the CouncU of this CoUege, and of the Committee
formed to carry out the intentions of Mr. Slade' s bequest
It wUl now be the duty of the Slade Professor to take
care that the utmost that is possible be done in return
for the efforts made by the Slade Executors and Com
mittee, in their liberal desire to found an important School
of Art in this College.
Except at the Royal Academy there is no school of
any importance in London for the study of high art. In
the various branches of the Government Schools, the
primary object is confessedly the study of ornamental
design, as applied to the industrial arts, and attention is
only paid to high art in so far as the study of the figure
is necessary for some particular branch of ornamental

96 LECTURES ON ART.
manufacture. There are no doubt in London private
schools where the study of the figure, from nature or the
antique, is made the principal object, but these are chiefly
used by students as preparatory for admission to the
Royal Academy, where, as the schools are open to the
public without payment, it is necessary to impose a certain
test of proficiency before admission.
There are also in London various clubs or societies,
where artists subscribe and meet together for study from
the living model. These are not generally of much
advantage to the students. There is always a danger of
their being made use of by the members merely for the
purpose of making smaU sketches or .studies for the market,
rather than for the purpose of real study for improve
ment; and as such are decidedly to be avoided by the
student. Considering therefore the large number of stu
dents of art to be found in London, and the fact that
there are no schools of importance for the study of the
figure, except those of the Royal Academy, where the
space is hecessarUy limited, it is to be presumed that
there is room for a School of Fine Art, where the study of
high art may be encouraged to the extent of its being
the only object of the institution. Nor can this school
ever be considered to come into competition with that
of the Royal Academy, since there is no fee required for
admission to the latter, which has also the privUege of

SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION. 97
being richly endowed not only with the accumulation of
advantages which an institution acquires in the course
of a century, but with the talents of those whose reputa^
tion in art stands highest in the country, and who are
required to give part of their time to the instruction of
the students. Here on the contrary a charge is made
for the instraction given, and in the uncertainty as to
success, it has been necessary to make the fee a moder
ately high one. Before however I proceed to dwell upon
the objects which we have to keep in view with regard
to this school, and the scheme which I shall try to
carry out, I will devote a short time to the consideration
of the foreign system, which I wish to take to a certain
extent as my guide in these matters.
In France a very different order of things prevaUs to
that which is to be found in England. Besides the
" !l^cole des Beaux-Arts " which answers to our free Royal
Academy Schools, many of the principal French artists
have private ateliers, separate from their own studios,
which are largely attended by art students, to the instruc
tion of whom (with a generous devotion to the cause
of art to which we have not been able to arrive in this
commercial country) they give up weekly a portion of
time sufficient for the purpose. These schools are not
only used in preparation for the Ecole des Beaux-Arts
(for which there is an admission test as at the Royal
u

98 LECTURES ON ART.
Academy), but are frequented by the students after their
admission there ; indeed young artists, who have passed
their studentship, frequently continue to work under their
master long after they have painted and exhibited pictures.
Some of these ateliers have acquired a name for their
admirable system of instruction, only second to that of
the famous art schools of ancient Italy ; the schools of
David, of Ingres, of Delaroche, and others have an
European reputation.
The Italian schools of the Middle Ages, and of the
Renaissance, were established on a somewhat different
principle. The students in these appear to have been
apprenticed to the masters, to have paid down a sum
for admission, and to have assisted them in the execution
of their great works ; in return for which they received
all the instruction which the master was capable of giving
them; it being obviously to his interest to teach them
to the best of his power. Michelangelo, it is true, re
ceived payment from Ghirlandajo, when he was received
as his apprentice, but this is considered as an exception
to the rule, and on account of the extraordinary gifts
of the young student ; and there is not the slightest
doubt that the practice he acquired in painting, while
assisting his master on the frescoes in Sta. Maria
Novella, was of the greatest use to him when, although
by profession a sculptor, he was required to undertake

SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION. 99
in after years the decoration of the Sistine" Chapel in
fresco. This system of having apprentices, or articled pupUs,
is practised by architects in this country, who are in the
habit of receiving students for a fee ; the pupils being
instmcted by the architect, and occasionally giving him
assistance in the simpler parts of his work, thus acquiring
at the same time the theory and practice of their pro
fession. It is a custom however utterly unknown, or "at
all events unused, among artists, possibly because works
executed on a large scale are not enough in number for
artists to require that kind of assistance ; but it is un
doubtedly the best form of instruction that can be given,
and one which I have hopes of seeing established to a
certain extent in this school at some future time. It
would be of the greatest advantage to the students if
such of them as were competent and desired it, were
employed from time to time on the professor's own
works. In an essay on the genius of Beethoven, Ferdinand
Hiller, speaking of the advantage Beethoven derived from
serving as violinist in the orchestra of the theatre, makes
the following just remarks : — " It was invaluable for the
future commander of the instrumental tone-world to have
served in the line. In fact, every striving young composer
ought, as a matter of duty, to act for at least one year as
member of an orchestra, were it only at the great drum."
H 2

too LECTURES ON ART.
The squaring out of an artist's small designs to the
full size of the canvas, the enlarging of studies, the under-
painting of unimportant details of architecture or back
ground in a picture, are to the carrying out of a complete
work what the big drum is to the ensemble of an orchestra ;
they familiarise the student with the simplest elements
of a work of art, so that he is never at a loss how to use
them later in life. This method of instruction, however,
I have no idea of including in my system at present.
It is extremely likely to be misunderstood by the public
and the parents of the students, under the idea that the
professor would be employing the' powers of his pupil for
his own advantage ; and any attempt must be made by
degrees, and be at first of the most experimental kind.
I should, however, be very glad if at some future date it
could be combined with the course of instruction which
I propose for this school, a course which will be modelled
chiefly on the system of the French ateliers, of which I
have considerable experience.
I think there can be no question of the great advan
tage the French, and other foreign artists, have over us
in the knowledge of all the technical and practical details
of their profession. Most French students have what is
caUed their metier, that is the knowledge of their craft,
at their fingers' ends before they begin to paint pictures.
One seldom sees in their works the helpless errors in
drawing, the obvious difficulties and struggles in dealing

SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION. loi
with the material, that characterise the works of young
artists which we find in our exhibitions. The superiority
of foreign artists in these matters is undoubtedly due to
a habit in their schools of thoroughly following out a
course of study from the living model, before beginning
to paint pictures for exhibition — a practice which our
students are frequently either too indifferent or too con
ceited to follow ; but it is also due in part to the system
of instruction, which allows no waste of time on useless
or unimportant subjects of study.
Here in our schools of art, every kind of difficulty
would seem to be put in the way of study from the life.
It would appear to be considered a dangerous practice
to begin studies from nature, , until a long time has been
passed in drawing from the antique, or from what are
called drawing-models, or again, frora ornamental designs.
I have mentioned in the prospectus of this school what
I consider the evils of this system. In the first place, it
reverses the natural order of things ; for until the student
knows something of the construction of the human body
from the living model, it is impossible he can understand
the generalised and idealised forms in Greek sculpture.
In the second place, the habit acquired in drawing for a
long time, sometimes through a course of two or more
years, from casts from the antique, which are by their
nature motionless, and can always be kept in the same
relations of light and shade, renders the student helpless

I02 LECTURES ON ART.
when he comes to work from the living model, who can
never remain quite still or take two days running exactly
the same position. Thirdly, the desire of English students
tp paint, exhibit, and sell pictures, makes them so im
patient of instruction, that it is difficult to get them to
follow out any course to the end. Hence, one result of
a long course from the antique is, that they frequently
begin to paint for exhibition, without having thoroughly
acquired the habit of working from nature ; and thus,
finding themselves helpless before the model, they trust
to their own facility for working, as far as possible, without
nature, with the aid only of the small amount of probably
erroneous knowledge gained in making elaborate studies
from casts ; and this habit, once formed, is never shaken
off, nor is further knowledge ever acquired. Possibly,
moreover, the student, feeling the system to be a wrong
one, imbibes a profound distrust of any course of instruc
tion whatever; works from nature without guidance, and
at his own discretion; and finds his powers crippled for
life for want of that knowledge which a good system of
study in his youth would have given him.
It is difficult to imagine how the system I refer to
grew to be so universal as it was in our schools when
I was a student. It was then necessary to work for
some two or three years in a private studio, with a
view to making preparation for admission to the Royal

SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION. 103
Academy, an admission obtained, as you are doubtless
aware, by submitting a drawing of an antique figure ;
and although studies from nature might no doubt
be pursued at the same time, it is clear that the
desire of the student would be not so much to obtain
a thorough knowledge of the human figure, as to
' be able to produce a drawing in chalk,/ which should
attain to a certain standard of proficiency. To this
end much time was wasted by the students in making
elaborately finished chalk studies ; a trivial minuteness
of execution very generally being considered of more
importance than a sound and thorough grounding in the
knowledge of form. Suppose him to have been successful
in entering the Academy, instead of the preparatory stage
being ended at this point, more studies from the antique
were necessary for the student to pass his probationer-
ship, in order to be admitted a full student. This point
gained, there followed more highly-finished and stippled
studies in the antique school, and courses of lectures
on perspective, anatomy, &c., all of which occupied
frequentiy more than a twelvemonth of most precious
time ; the reward of success and punctual attendance in
which was the permission to do what the student should
have been set to do the first day he entered the school,
that is to make studies from the living model.
I do not say that there are not many reasons, and

I04 LECTURES ON ART.
some good ones, to be found for this routine, but it is
difficult to understand how it arose, and grew into such
a system as that of which I have just presented to you
a true picture. It is true that the Academy has shown
its disapprobation of this method of study by making
considerable modifications of late years, but the tradi
tion that there is something objectionable in beginning
early to study from the life-model is not by any means
extinct, and stUl lingers to a most prejudicial extent
in our other art schools.
Let us look again for a while at the French Academ
ical system. A student enters the atelier of one of
the principal painters of the day. There is no divi
sion of classes ; the students of eight or ten years
standing work in the same room, and from the same
model as the new-comer; if he has never had any
instruction, he is set at first to make a few drawings
from casts, to give him some idea of the use of his
pencil, after which he begins at once his studies from
the living model. Here he works daily, the model
sitting for four hours a day for one week, so that he
has no time to linger and loiter over the detaUed exe
cution of his work ; — his time must be employed to the
best of his ability. The master attends twice a week,
once on the Tuesday, when the figure is sketched in, and
again on the Saturday, when it is nearly finished, and

SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION. 105
this is amply sufficient for his instraction. MeanwhUe
the elder students help the younger. When he has
acquired a sufficient proficiency in drawing to under
stand the meaning of the forms, and to reproduce
them with tolerable accuracy, he begins to paint from
the model, perhaps painting and drawing alternate weeks,
supplementing his studies by copying portions of pictures
in the Louvre, and by drawing at some subscription
life-school in the evening.
His object is now to enter the ifecole des Beaux-Arts,
and he has to compete for admission. He does not
however prepare for this purpose an elaborate draw
ing to be submitted for inspection, but he is placed
¦with the other competitors before the living model in
the life studio of the licole. The model sits for two
hours a day for a week, and he thus has twelve hours
in which to do his study. He submits his drawing, and
if it be up to the standard of excellence he is admitted
to the privUeges of the school. Nor is the competition an
easy one ; for there are generally about 600 competitors,
including the students who have already been admittedi
and who have to make the competition again every six
months, and 100 is the limit of students admitted to the
school. Now for the first time he is placed before the
antique. Having through a long course of study arrived
at a thorough comprehension of the various aspects of

lo6 LECTURES ON ART.
nature, he is taught to improve his style by the study'
of the chef d'oeuvres of the great artists of the past.
These teach him what are the possibUities of the art he
professes, and the study of them acts as a stimulus to
look deeper into nature for the beauties which other
men have found there. This is the real object of the
study of the antique, not, as too often with us, the
acquisition of an elaborate system of manipulation.
Look at the drawings sent up by the Government Schools
of Art to the central competition at South Kensington ;
are any of them executed under six weeks of painful
stippling with chalk and bread? How much knowledge
of the figure is it to be supposed the student has acquired i
during the process ? Some of these prize drawings have
come under my notice, of which the elaborately stippled
background alone must have occupied more than a fortnight
in the execution ; and in my own student days I remember
constantly to have seen the same idle and wasteful method
of getting through the time. Is it a wonder that, when our
national prizes are given for such work as this, we are
behind the rest of Europe in our knowledge of drawing;
1 This understates the case. When I was first appointed to South
Kensington, I found students at work on drawings from the antique
which had already occupied them a considerable portion of the previous
term (five months), and were not half-finished. I discovered that they
were in the habit frequently of doing only one antique drawing for
their certificate.

SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION. 107,
and that those who have aspirations towards a higher
kind of work than the market-produce -which overwhelms
our exhibitions, have either to seek for a better form of
study on the Continent, or to keep up a life-long struggle
against difficulties, which they have never been taught
to overcome, but which are the ABC of art education
abroad ?
I have dwelt at some length on this description of
the French system of education, because I am anxious
to adopt something of the same kind in this school.
It is to my mind admirably logical ; and whatever modifi
cation of detail I may be inclined to introduce, I shall
impress but one lesson upon the students, that constant
study from the life-model is the only means they have
of arriving at a comprehension of the beauty in nature,
and of avoiding its ugliness and deformity ; which I
take to be the whole aim and end of study. It is for
this reason I have instituted what is caUed in the pros
pectus, the general course of instruction, in which students
who are going to study art as a profession raay go through
a serious and regular system, with the view of making
the best use of their time. All students entering the
schools wiU be required first to do a dravring from a
figure in the antique, as a test of their proficiency; if
this drawing be unsatisfactory, or show them not suffi
ciently to have mastered the technicalities of the material

io8 LECTURES ON ART.
to enable them to encounter the difficulties of drawing
from the life, they will remain in the antique school until
the middle of the term, when they will again submit a
drawing as a test. Thus there will be two opportunities
given during the term for students to gain admission to
the life-school. This, it will be easily understood, does not
involve any departure from the principle just laid down,
of setting students as early as possible to work from the
living model, but is merely adopted with a view to give
them greater facility when they begin their work from
the life. Beginners must remember that until they have
acquired some kind of power of using their materials,
and until their eye and hand have gained a certain degree
of correctness, they will be longer in attaining the desired
result from the living model than from easier subjects of
study. It is not only that the living model is always
more or less changing his position ; but the forms are
not always so clearly marked as in the antique, and are,
especially in the portions of the figure most difficult to
draw, obscured by accidents of colour and deformities of
various kinds, which are always to be found, and are
always changing. In the knee, for instance, even where
well formed, the colour of the skin makes the form much
more difficult to see and understand than in the antique
statues, where one part is as well defined as another.
In the hands and fore-arms, the veins are apt to swell

SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION. 109
and conceal or disfigure the more important anatomical
and general features. The feet are always a most terrible
stumbling-block to beginners (and even to the most
¦advanced students), not only on account of deformities
contracted from various causes, but of the swollen veins
and the purple colour which would not be found to so
great an extent in a person in motion, but which naturally
result from the model being obliged to stand for hours
together in one position. It is true, that as far as I
am able to manage it, you wUl be supplied with good
Italian models to work from. These are not only in
general build and proportion-, and in natural grace and
dignity, far superior to our English models ; but they
have a natural beauty, especially in the extremities, which
no amount of hard labour seems to spoil. Their hands,
though many of them may have been field-labourers in
their own country, might be envied by many of a better
position amongst ourselves ; while their feet, bare in
infancy, are covered later in life by a natural and simple
kind of sandal, which protects them without altering their
shape, so that they do not run that risk of disfigurement,
which is unavoidable with the hard and mis-shapen shoes
and boots, in which the feet of children in this country
are ruthlessly imprisoned, even before they are able to
walk. In. short, although you will find nothing in the
antique which you cannot find in nattire, there is much.

no LECTURES ON ART.
'even in the best models, which you will not see in the
antique, and it is precisely these points which make
the difficulty in drawing from nature, and which render
it necessary for the student to have some acquaintance
with the general character and proportions of the human
figure, before attempting the study of the living model.
This short preliminary practice, however, is a very different
thing from the long and laborious system of working
from the antique which I have already condemned.
My first wish was to include all the classes under one
fee,i directing all the students, whether amateur or artist,
to study in the classes according to their proficiency;
but it was represented to me that there were many who,
not desiring to make a profession of their art, would be
unable to give up all their time to the study of it, and
for those I have arranged that there shall be classes
three times a week. But I wish it to be understood
that amateurs should submit to the same thorough form
of instraction they would go through if they were training
for artists ; if they are unable to give the time to study
that would make them equally proficient, they will at
all events acquire an appreciation and critical knowledge
of what is noble and beautiful in the great works of the
great masters, which those will never do who merely dabble
^ This plan was ultimately adopted, and was found, as I expected,
to work better in every respect.

SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION. ill
with a little drawing and painting for amusement, and
pursue it on no kind of system. Nothing would please
me better than that the whole of the students attending
these classes should be training as artists. This however
is never likely to be the case, and there "are, of course, a
large number of the students who come here who have
no intention of taking up art as a profession ; and though
I must not be understood to be desirous of eliminating
this amateur element from the school (for I hold that
,the judicious training of amateur artists is of great value
in raising the standard of taste in the country),- yet I
think it very advisable that they should be, as far as
possible, compelled to look upon art in a serious light.
The more I can make this understood, the better it will
be for our school and for the interests of art generally.
There is unfortunately a difficulty which has always
stood in the way of female students acquiring that
thorough knowledge of the figure which is essential to
the production of work of a high class ; and that is, of
course, that they are debarred from the same complete
study of the model that is open to the male students,
and for the want of -which no amount of study of the
antique, of books, or of anatomy, will compensate ; for,
as I have said before, nothing but constant practice
from the model itself will suffice. But I have always
been anxious to institute a class where the half-draped

112 LECTURES ON ART.
model might be studied, to give those ladies who are
desirous of obtaining sound instruction in drawing the
figure, an opportunity of gaining the necessary know
ledge. There are many prejudices to be overcome in
this direction, bit it may be remarked that such studies
may be pursued with propriety at a public school,
though in a private studio they would be nearly impos
sible. It is my desire that in all the classes, except
of course those for the study of the nude model, the
male and female students should work together; this
system was tried as an experiment in the Royal Aca
demy a few years ago, and has been found to answer
admirably — and it has always been my opinion that the
practice conduces to steadiness of work.
It now only remains for me to address a few remarks
to those of my audience who may have the intention
of entering on their course of study in this place. Let
me assure them in the most emphatic terms that nothing
is to be done without unremitting labour and attention.
It is not the instruction you receive that will be the
means of your improvement, but rather your own in
dustry and endeavours ; I can " do nothing but guide
your efforts in the right direction. In a word, you must
not rely on me to teach you to draw and paint ; my
system of instruction will be directed to the end that
you do not waste your energies on the study of what is

SYSTEMS OF ART EDUCATION. 113
useless or prejudicial. Sir Joshua Reynolds puts this
as usual most concisely when he says that "no method
of study ¦will lead to excellence, yet it raay preserve in
dustry from being raisapplied." Industry on your part
is the point of the greatest importance to you in your
career as students of art. Those even who have no
intention of devoting themselves to the arts as their pro
fession, wUl find it quite worth their while to give all
their energies to the work in hand while they are en
gaged in it; their taste and love for the beautiful and
noble in art cannot but be in this way improved.
There is no influence in the world so ennobling as that
of the fine arts ; to be able to appreciate and under
stand the vast conceptions of a Michelangelo or a
Beethoven, is the highest pleasure we are capable of
receiving. Without understanding, genuine appreciation is im
possible; without study, understanding is impossible;
that is why I should wish the amateur to apply him
self to his work as earnestly as if he had to make his
living by the practice of art.
It wiU be well for the young artist also to pay atten
tion to what I have said: that it is the love and
appreciation of what is truly beautiful in nature that
makes the great artist. He is not concemed only with
the external beauties, which are obvious to aU the
I

114 LECTURES ON ART.
world, but with those also which underlie the surface,
and which only the mind of the artist, stimulated by
continued study, can discover. The more you work
from nature, the more astonished you will be at the
beauties you -will find; and it will be your pleasure as
artists to point them out to others. Remember that the
true object of art is to create a world : not to imitate
what is constantly before our eyes. If it were possible
to invent anything of sublime or beautiful beyond the
realm of nature, the artist would be justified in doing
it; but there is not only no possibility of this, but
there is fortunately also no need of it. Nature contains
greater depths of beauty than we can fathom ; and
although two or three men in the world's history have
risen to so high a conception of beauty that their
works have acquired a just right to be called " the
creations " of genius, they have had no more to inspire
them than what you yourselves may find by searching
around you. Indeed they may be said to have had less,
for you possess, as an additional property, the example
of their unremitting devotion to stimulate you to labour
without flagging; and the results of their genius, to goad
you on to rival them on the toilsome and arduous path,
which may lead you to the achievement of an equal
excellence.

LECTURE IV.i
HINTS ON THE FORMATION OF A STYLE.
In the address I delivered on the occasion of the opening
of this school, I endeavoured to set forth the system in
use in foreign, especially French, schools ; ^ a system which
places Continental artists on so much higher a level as
regards technical excellence in Art, than our own. That
amazing facility of execution, which enables a French or
German artist to attack a canvas ten or fifteen feet square,
with as little trouble as it costs us to begin a cabinet
picture, whUe he preserves at the same time the due unity
of effect and an even thoroughness of execution, is the result
of that system of constantly working from nature, which,
gi-ving but a limited time for the completion of a study,
obliges the student to work in the simplest and most
straightforward manner. This is the system which I have
^ Given at the opening of the second session of the Slade Schools,
Oct. 1872.
" Lecture III. p. 97. I 2

n6 LECTURES ON ART.
iiitroduced in these schools, having for my aim to obviate
as far as possible that timid and unmethodical style of work,
which strikes us as the prevaihng fault in our exhibitions.
This school is but in its early days, and it is difficult to
see as yet how far I may have been successful ; but I
may mention here what I find to be a serious drawback,
and indeed the greatest obstacle I have to encounter. I
refer to the absence in this place of those traditions, which
are to be found in long-established Academies of Art, but
v.'hich an institution like this must necessarily at first
starting be without. There are as yet no elder students
to whom the younger ones can look as guides : to see the
elder ones who have been brought up in the traditions
of the place at their work is perhaps the greatest help a
young student can have.
I must confess to having felt somewhat of a shock
each time I have looked at the drawings and paintings
which were done for the prizes at the end of the last
session ; — I must confess to having been shocked at the
crude absence of style that characterizes them ; I mean
of that free and inteUigent manner of drawing, which is to
be found in all the French Schools of Art, at a very early
stage of advancement, I have often wondered how far
this was due to my own method of instruction.
The above consideration however somewhat consoled
me ; for I reflected that students learn mostly by examples,

HINTS ON THE FORMATION OF A STYLE. 117
and a style can only be formed after a school has existed
for a lengthened period. It is with a view to encourage
among you a good style of work, that I now address you,
my remarks being intended to direct you where to look
for examples for imitation. '
Although I have adopted here a system of instruction
pretty closely foUowing the French, I do not by any
means consider, or intend to convey the impression, that
the result at which French artists arrive is to be held up
for imitation. Much as I admire their technical facihty,
I do not consider that they make that use of it which it
should be the aim of a true artist to keep before him.
French art has indeed, of late years, enormously degene
rated. Thanks to the continued and persistent efforts
of the "realistic" school, it is descending lower and lower
to a mere brutal materialism, any subject which may afford
a means of displaying technical ability being eagerly seized
upon, and as every artist vies with his fellows in the
production of the most sensational results, it is difficult to
say at what depths of the horrible and morbidly sensual
it may finally arrive.^ It is certainly not with this intention
that the great school of David (the model of the existing
^ This is a true prediction of what has since happened. The French
portion of the picture gallery in the Exhibition of 1878 was remarkable
for nothing so much as the display of sensational horrors treated in
the most realistic style, and on an immense scale.

ii8 LECTURES ON ART.
French ateliers) was founded ; his aim being the lofty one
of trying to recall the glories of antique art.
It would moreover seem impossible for French artists
to conceive of ideal beauty as existing in nature itself.
Their ideal school was a failure ; it was never more than
a cold and uninteresting misconception of the Classical
idea, and had no foundation in nature whatever ; it copied
the letter but failed to seize the spirit of antique art.
Ingres, the pupil of David, was the great outcome of this
school ; and is the real founder of the present excellent
system of instruction in France. He himself achieved
a mastery of his material, which places him foremost as
a painter (using the word in its limited sense), in modern
times ; his works are in roundness and richness of model
ling comparable only to those of Velasquez, while there is
in them a severe precision of drawing, which is worthy
of all imitation; as regards colour however, his flesh-tints
are invariably cold and clayey, while any local colour is
sure to be harsh and disagreeable, and his works are
generally uninteresting in idea. On the other hand, he
has the rare merit in a French artist of having painted the
nude female form naturaUy, gracefully, and without affecta
tion ; his picture of La Source stands almost alone for com
bining charm and purity, and is equally free from the
sensuality which degrades most French pictures of this
kind, and from that false simplicity which shocks us still

HINTS ON THE FORMATION OF A STYLE. 119
more. But though painted and modeUed in the most
masterly manner, this and other of his figures are wanting
in the higher forms of beauty, which we see in the noblest
Itahan works.
The French school as I have said has rapidly degene
rated. . Ingres, and one or two of his pupils who formed
themselves the most successfully on his style, are dead,
and during the last ten years of the Empire, the works
of the French artists ran into every kind of extravagance.
Their conception of ideal beauty is not that it is to be
found by looking for it in nature, but rather by adding
something to nature of their own devising; this something
is chiefly a theatrical and sickly sentimentality, which is
peculiarly their own, but which is absolutely devoid of any
real and inherent beauty. When on the other hand they
paint nature unidealized, it is almost always on the
disgusting or the horrible that they seize for imitation,
with a cynical pleasure which is no less characteristic than
their false and bombastic sentiment. But the skill with
which all this is done seems to grow every day more
remarkable, and it must be understood that in making
these remarks, I do not include the whole French school,
but am speaking of that which, for the present at all
events, is in the ascendant. The poetry which they seem
unable to feel or express in. the higher branches of the
art, shows itself in the most charming manner in their

120 LECTURES ON ART.
feeling for the beauty of landscape and country-life
generally. The stage-peasant and the stage-landscape
of our English school are almost unknown to them, and
their skUful and simple method of painting places them
far above us in all the lower branches ofthe art. This
skill which shows itself in all the work they do, however
false we may find the sentiment, is entirely, or almost
entirely, due to tiiat thorough training in the constant study
of natfure which all French students receive from the
very beginning of their career, and it is " their fault or
misfortune if they cannot derive a better result from their
studies. To this system I shall then adhere, as I believe
that the English love of nature, which is unmistakable,
and runs through all the efforts of our poets and painters
from the highest to the lowest, should lead us under a good
system to a much higher result. If the facUity of English
students is not so great, they must make up for it by
working all the harder, and the mastery they acquire by
these means, under good guidance, will be worth more
than any natural talent misapplied.
But the love of nature alone is not sufficient: it may
easily induce a trivial realism which is the besetting sin
of many of our younger artists. What is wanted is an
appreciative love which is capable of selecting what is
worthy of imitation, and setting aside what is unimportant.
It is to this end that your studies are to be directed.

HINTS ON THE FORMATION OF A STYLE. 121
Your work from the models, which are daily set for
your regular study, is not only to enable you to paint
what you desire with ease and skill, but is to have a
better result than this in forming your ideas of the
beautiful, and enabling you to distinguish good from
bad ; for the study of nature is not the end of art, but
merely a means of enabling, you to express your ideas.
Mr, Ruskin says on this point in his Modern Painters —
" He who has learned what is commonly considered the
whole art of painting, that is, the art of representing
any natural object faithfully, has as yet only learned the
language by which his thoughts are to be expressed.
He has done just as much towards being a great painter,
as a man who has learned how to express himself gram-
maticaUy, and melodiously, has towards being a great
poet." This power of selection you will not find come
easily to you for some time, nor indeed is it desirable
that it should do so untU you have obtained a cer
tain command over your powers of execution ; but
as you grow in knowledge a light will break in upon
you, so that you will take more and more pleasure in
whatever characteristics of beauty you may find, and as
the eye gains practice, and the hand acquires facility,
you wUl be able to draw and paint with more freedom
and certainty, and thus to acquire that style, without
which art must be hmited to a mere reproduction of the

122 LECTURES ON ART.
ordinary aspects of nature. It wUl be well also to remem
ber that all the great and beautiful works of art which
have been produced in the world have no other founda
tion than that nature which is set before you for study :
indeed you have an advantage which the producers of
those great works had not, in that you are able to con
template them for your guidance. It is therefore above
all things necessary that you add to the study of nature
the study of the works of the great masters.
There is in this institution, as I have explained, no
tradition to help you, nor does there exist in England
any such tradition ; for such as there was in the days of
Reynolds and his immediate successors, has now degene
rated and indeed almost died out ; the one faint remnant
being that study of the antique, on the disadvantages
of which, as pursued in our schools, I have already
sufficiently dwelt. We must then form a style on some
other school, having none of our own, not by imitating
the manner of any particular painter or school of painters,
but by studying their method of studying. If you think
that this will induce mannerism, it is worth while to try
and realize how far one painter is independent of another,
how far you yourselves, when you think you are most
original, are influenced by the works of others. You
have probably no conception of the amount of uncon-
cious imitation of particular styles of work you are

HINTS ON THE FORMATION OF A STYLE. 123
employing when you think you are only affected by nature.
But you can realize it to yourself, if you consider the works
of the greatest geniuses of the early Italian school, in their
representations of the simplest objects, when they were
proceeding entirely by the light of their own intelligence,
and had no predecessors to guide them. You will find
that Giotto, a man endowed with an artistic fac-ulty and
imaginative genius, in no way inferior to the greatest of
his successors, whose certainty of hand was so great
that there is an anecdote of his having drawn a perfect
circle with one sweep of his pencil, could not, in the very
highest exercise of his powers, produce a better repre
sentation of a tree or flower than any bo)» with a taste
for drawing might do at eight years old. I give you this
instance to show you how helpless any artist is, when
depending entirely on his own resources, and how certain
it is that you are influenced by the works of other men
in all that you do, even when you are most unconscious
of it.
It will almost always be found that it is our more
immediate surroundings which influence us the most.
Andrea Mantegna, the greatest artist of his time, whose
works in some respects give us more pleasure than those
of any other, devoted his hfe to the worship of the
antique, and yet rarely succeeded in drawing a figure in
correct proportion, or in getting rid of a certain rigidity

124 LECTURES ON ART.
in the movement and expression of his figures; the fact
being that the art of the day, being undeveloped in these
matters, had raore influence on him, doubtless uncon
sciously to himself, than all the beautiful works of past
ages which were the objects of his study. What you
are certain to do in the first place is to imitate each
other, and in the present unformed state of your powers
this will not do you much good. You cannot also but
be affected by the general style of work which prevails
in the present day, and I would have you get as much
good out of this as you can, but it will not take you very
far. If then our immediate surroundings are such as
are not likely to induce a good style of drawing and
painting, and with certain exceptions the spirit of the
work which fills our exhibitions is not generally cal
culated to produce an elevating effect, we must, to come
back to what I have said, try to seek a counteracting in
fluence elsewhere. The spirit of antiquity, as shown in its
sculpture, is too far from us to produce a very strong effect
on a student of painting ; it is only after much study
that its real beauty and intrinsic truth begins to be intel
ligible enough to influence his work. It is therefore to
the great masters of painting, and especially of the Italian
school, that I would rather direct your attention. If
in our visits to the National GaUery, we study the pictures
of the great masters of that school, from the time of the

HINTS ON THE FORMATION OF A STYLE. 125
revival of art in the thirteenth century to its culmination
in the works of Raffaelle and Michelangelo we shall
find in thera, and in them alone, not only everything that
is required for our guidance in the practice of Art, but
nothing that we should consider it necessary to avoid.
The causes of this distinguishing excellence are princi
pally two. First, there was a universally prevaUing love
of what is beautiful in nature, which, leading them in
stinctively to select what is worthy of treatment in art,
never permitted them to choose an ugly, vulgar, or mean
subject, or to treat a beautiful one in a mean or vulgar
way, and which made them look upon all art in so serious
a light as to invest naturally all they did with beauty and
dignity; and, secondly, a love of beauty of workmanship
which seems never to have failed them, so that we may
look in vain through their pictures for any sign of
fatigue, with its inevitable accompaniment of coarse and
slovenly execution. In both cases, in fact, we find
amongst them such a genuine love for, and all absorbing
interest in their art, as leads them never to tire of re
producing beauty with the most perfect skill of which
they are capable. These, therefore, are the models to
whom I would have you look for the spirit by which you
are to be guided in your work.
You wUl find the works of many artists of other ages
and countries equally full of invention and imagination.

126 LECTURES ON ART.
but it is only in those of the Italians that we find repre
sented every fomi of beauty. Especially in the workman
ship of their pictures is this noticeable, and it is to this
point that I wish to call your attention. Even where they
were most wanting in what we understand by masterly
execution, as in the case of the early Florentines, Giotto
and his followers, the workmanship of their pictures charms
us by its noble simplicity and absence of pretension ; and
as their power of execution developed, it became more and
more what Mr. Ruskin calls "precious," that is, done as if
it .were a thing of value in itself, and not as a raere display
of technical skill. The most consummate examples of this
are to be found in the pictures of Andrea Mantegna, and
Filippo Lippi ; especially of the former, who combines with
the most inexhaustible imagination and invention that ever
fell to the lot of an artist, and powers which include the
whole range of art, from the raost playful fantasy to the
profoundest and most passionate tragedy — a skill of
workmanship so minutely and marvellously delicate as to
defy imitation.
I am thinking more especially at this moment of one of
his pictures in Florence, a triptych, containing an Adora
tion of the Magi, a Circumcision, and an Ascension. The
finish of this picture is such as to amaze us, and as I
have said, defies copying. A noble work of this master is
in the National Gallery, and wiU afford an example of what

HINTS ON THE FORMATION OF A STYLE. 127
I mean. Look at the refinement with which the drapery
is drawn, the wonderful delicacy of handling with which
the gold-lights are laid on, the beautiful and loving spirit
which has presided over the execution of the foliage in the
background, and indeed of every detail in the picture, and
you will begin to have an understanding of what I mean
by workraanship as such, and how an artist proceeds whose
hand has been thoroughly trained, and who is traly in love
with his art. The two pictures by Filippo Lippi, the An
nunciation and the picture of Saints seated in a circle, are
equally worthy of attention. Everything in them, as in all
his pictures, and in those of Sandro Botticelli, whose works
are frequently hardly to be distinguished from those of
FUippo Lippi, is done with this one idea of raaking the
whole work as full of charm and beauty as possible, every
detail being subservient to this end. Another gem of
workmanship, of a school rather more developed, is the
picture of Peter Martyr, by Giovanni Bellini. In this
work the dramatic action is kept subordinate to the pas
toral scenery in which it takes place, and as such it cannot
be said to be the highest representation of the subject;
but there is a certain ndivetk in this idea which is not
without its charm as showing that the horrible and tragic
had no attractions for him ; while the spirit of beauty and

128 LECTURES ON ART.
love for what is delightful in form, and colour, and senti
ment, breathes throughout the whole, and has expressed
itself in the raost perfectly beautiful piece of workman
ship that ever was put into a picture ; I mean the paint
ing of the green -forest which makes the principal part of
the background. There will also be found equal perfec
tion of workmanship in the best pictures of the early
Flemish schools, notably in the works of Memling and
Van Eyck, whose pictures are unsurpassable for delicacy
of execution, and as such are most worthy of examination
and study. This quality is however combined with such
an amount of awkwardness, and ugliness, and poverty of
form, wherever the human face and figure are repre
sented, as to modify considerably the pleasure we derive
from their contemplation.
It is not my intention however, to raake a critical ex
amination of the pictures in the National Gallery. I have
pointed out to you a few of the most noticeable for the
perfection of their workmanship, and leave you to find out
others for yourselves. Now I do not want you to imitate
the special manner of these painters of the fifteenth cen
tury (although you might do much worse) so much as to
work in their untiring spirit of love for nature and their
art. My object has been moreover to show you what
beauties are to be looked for in their work, knowing that
with many students the difference between the spirit of

HINTS ON THE FORMATION OF A STYLE. 129
modern work, and the Itahan art of the Middle Ages, is
so great as to render it difficult for them to find where
the special beauty lies which so enraptures its admirers;
in which case a hint of this kind is often sufficient to
set the student thinking, and to animate him with some
thing of the same spirit.
For the immediate imitation of the pupUs of this
school, I wish that it were possessed of a few specimens
of paintings of the good schools of a later period, that
they might be copied, and the actual method of painting
studied in this manner. To copy a portrait by Titian or
Velasquez is a better and surer means of forraing a good
style of handling than all the precept in the world, pro
vided that the work be done under good direction ; but
we have unfortunately nothing that we can look to nearer
than the National Gallery. The large painting which
has been presented to us is of great value, as setting
before you one of Raffaelle's most imaginative and raost
masterly corapositions ; and I shall refer you to it as a
study of design; but as a painting, although a fair and
careful representation of the original, it is hardly so good
for study, being after all but a copy, and a copy of a
fresco. As a means, however, of forming the best possible
style of drawing, I have acquired some of the most in-
stractive of the series of photographs from Michelangelo's
ceihng in the Sistine Chapel, These are placed in the
K

I30 LECTURES ON ART.
Art Library, which, though small at present, will I hope
some day become of more important dimensions, and be
frequently consulted by the students. It is needless for
me to express my admiration for these works ; they are-
almost beyond admiration, and remain for the amaze
ment of the world for all time. What is the point how
is that their subtle truth to nature renders them most
admirable studies for students in art to copy, and I have
come to the conclusion that the study of them, though
doubtless very difficult, on account of the imperfections
which necessarUy occur in the photographs, will do more
to correct that crade want of style, which I have men
tioned as a defect in the drawing in this school, than any
works of any other master that I could put before you.
You wUl learn also to appreciate these works by copying
them, and gain by that means an insight into the possi
bilities, if also into the extreme difficulties, of your art. You
will find also in the Library, among the books presented
by Mrs. Grote, large volumes of prints of almost all the
faraous pictures in the world of the later schools ; though
of the time before Raffaelle there is hardly any representa
tion, this collection having been formed at a time when
the excellences of that period of art were ignored.
These, prints wUl be of great use in forming your style,
and should be much consulted for the study of composition,
especially those from the works of Raffaelle, who is fully

HINTS ON THE FORMATION OF A STYLE. 131
represented ; they wUl also be of service in acquainting
you with the great works which exist in foreign countries ;
on which point many of my students seem painfully
ignorant. You wiU find also books of prints from the
Dutch painters, whose pictures are generally remarkable
for the technical skUl and subtie appreciation with which
the raore vulgar and ordinary aspects and themes of
nature are represented. Many of these prints moreover
are gems of engraving of their kind. I have also
acquired for the Art Library, in addition to Mrs. Grote's
gift, some standard works, such as Vasari's Lives, which
you wUl do well to read, and some books on costume,
which wUl be of great assistance to you in treating the
subjects which I shall give out for composition from time
to time. Reynolds's writings, which I have before
recomraended, have been removed from the General
Library to ours, as well as some others.
I have drawn your attention more especiaUy to the
Library, because I hold that it is quite as important for
an artist to cultivate his mind as his hand. The results
of want of education and cultivation are painfully appa
rent in rauch of the work that is done in England ; and
the educated and intelligent raan is to be recognised at
once by his works ; and so also, I may add, is the
stupid and the ignorant. The artistic gift is doubtless
bestowed indiscriminately, and a man of genius wUl
K 2

132 LECTURES ON ART.
always produce results that wiU astonish, if not charm
us. But unless his mind is cultivated, not only by a
good general education, but by a knowledge of what
other artists have done in the world before him, his
range of themes will be of the most limited nature ;
and we shall find that most of the artists of the so-
called realistic school, that is the school which realises
only what is common and obvious in nature, are of
tills ill-educated kind. It is no sign of genius to despise
the work that has been done before us ; but such
affectation is not uncommon, and is generally the off
spring of ignorance and conceit. For this reason I am
especially glad that I have been able to arrange for
some lectures on Classical Archeology. Independently
of its artistic associations, there is no more interesting
study in the world than that of ancient history through
its antiquities, and when we consider that, except by
means of limited fragments of written history that re
main to us, it is entirely through its art that we are
enabled to construct the history of the ancient world,
the matter becomes one which is especially interesting
to artists. The converse holds equally good; it is a
knowledge of the history of the past that helps us to
understand its art.
You wUl observe that I have raade a special point in
this lecture of drawing your attention to the excellence

HINTS ON THE FORMATION OF A STYLE. 133
of workraanship which is to be found generally in the
work of the old masters, and especiaUy of the ItaUan
painters. I am afraid that there may have been
a slight misunderstanding of some of the points in
the system that I have laid down for study in this
school. It may have been supposed that, because I allow
but a limited time in which each study is to be done,
I do not recognise the great importance of careful finish.
What I really want is that you should acquire the habit
of finishing as highly as you can in the time given. I
may add that the time allowed is ample for the pur
pose, and if you use it properly you will gain a direct
method of work which wUl go far to give you that
style in which the drawings here have hitherto been
deficient. I have seen drawings by French students
done in six sittings of two hours each which are quite
as highly worked up as any turned out in our EngUsh
schools in double the time. Remember that the first
essential to a good artist is that he should be a good
workman; the art of painting in the days of which I
have spoken so much, was studied regularly as a trade;
and young men were apprenticed to an artist to learn
their business, just as they are now to a jeweUer or
silversmith. If we look at the English pictures of
the present day, we shall find that this point is the
one in which they are most deficient. The sort of

134 LECTURES ON ART.
execution which passes current is generally of the flimsi
est kind. Now it is not given to every one to be a
genius, but aU can be good workmen. The fine artist
doubtless is he who, as Midas turned everything he
touched into gold, cannot make a study or design
without giving it some character of beauty; but it is,
alas, given to but few of us instinctively to beautify
everything we touch. Those who have this gift by
nature in any high degree are the great geniuses of the
world, and may be counted on the fingers. But the
qualities of good workmanship are such as can be
attained by any one who has the true spirit of love for
his art; and nothing will ever make me believe — nothing
I hope will ever induce you to believe — that it is neces
sary to work down to the level of the taste of the age.
This is the true cause of the degeneracy of the art of
this time ; but it is easy to rise above it, if we make
up our minds to be influenced neither by the interest
of our pockets, nor by the vulgar criticism of the
ignorant.

LECTURE V.
THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS.^
The object of my present lecture is to systematise and
classify, as far as possible, the instruction which is, for
various reasons, necessarily imparted in a somewhat
desultory manner.^
With this intention, I have thrown my remarks into
the form of a short sketch of the course of study which
I consider best for an art student, and shall describe
as I go on the successive points or posts which he will
have to occupy.
Now for the purpose of producing a work of art of
the higher order, there are four subjects of which the
^ This lecture was first delivered at the opening of the third session
of the Slade Schools, and afterwards in a modified form at Leeds,
and again, with alterations, at the distribution of prizes at the Middles-
borough School of Art, I give it here in the form in which it might
have been given at University College, with the subsequent alterations.
' Through the personal nature of the teaching, the school being new,
and the scholars few, and not sufficiently advanced to divide into classes.

136 LECTURES ON ART,
painter must acquire knowledge — form, tone, colour, and
finally, composition. The knowledge of the first three is
gained through the study of nature ; the last is rather an
effort of the inventive or imaginative powers, and involves
the harmonious combination or arrangement of form,
tone, and colour, either separately or together.^ Thus
we may have a composition of form only, as in an
outline drawing of a group of figures ; a composition of
hght and shade, which even in its simplest expression,
as a mere study of effect, acquires of necessity sorae
element of form, however vague or rudimentary ; and a
composition of colour, which must also in the same- way
be combined with forra, either indefinitely as in a
coloured sketch, or definitely as in a stained-glass
window, or any subject coloured with flat-tints, like the
early Etruscan wall-paintings. Lastly, we may have com
positions of all three combined, which form what we
consider the raost complete kind of picture ; for though it
raay occasionally be necessary that figure-pictures, where
they are used for purely decorative purposes, should be
' It would of course be a mistake to talk of a composition of tone.
"Tone " does not mean exactly " light and shade," but the knowledge
of tone means the knowledge of the correct relations of light and
shade, and is necessary in order to make what Lionardo calls " That
just and natural dispensation of lights and shadows, usually expressed
by the word Chiaroscuro." The study of tone must be made from
nature, and the knowledge applied to compositions of light and shade.

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 137
compositions of form and colour only — that is, outlines
with flat-tints or a minimum of light and shade — this can
not be considered the highest expression of the art of
painting. It is clear then that to make a perfect com
position, the student raust first acquire a knowledge of
form, of tone, and of colour; and to this end his
studies must be directed; but it is also clear that
though we may raake a composition of form only, with
out light and shade or colour, an element of form must
enter into any arrangement of masses of colour, or of
chiaroscuro. It is then to the study of form that the
attention of the student of painting must first be
directed. There is no doubt that the simplest way of beginning
is to make copies of drawings in outline, beginning with
easy forms, and progressing to the more difficult ; and
the School of Design drawing-books by Dyce are ad
mirably adapted to this purpose. But this course may
easily be carried too far, and in ray opinion is useful
only at the very earliest stage, as a means of acquiring
steadiness of hand. The youth who comes to a school
of art to study may be supposed to have displayed
' sufficient fc ndness for drawing to have practised it in
some form or other from his earliest years, and there
fore to have acquired some elementary knowledge. The
surest and best method therefore for him on entering the

138 LECTURES ON ART.
school, is to begin to make outline drawings from the
round, that is from sohd objects, by which, under, proper
direction, he can attain as great steadiness of hand as
he could from the flat. In pursuing this preliminary
course his object will be to train both eye and hand in
an equal degree, by endeavouring to draw with certainty
as well as with accuracy ; that is to say, he should, after
first adjusting on his paper the proportions of the object
he is copying, try to make his outline at once clear and
correct, and draw it with as firm and steady a hand as
a young student can command under the difficulties
with regard to accuracy which must beset hira at the
outset. The object, then, of the student is first to attain to
a definite conception of the forra before him, and in
this he will fail unless he can express it on paper with
a definite outline; next, to acquire the power of ex
pressing the form with certainty and rapidity, which he
will never do if he acquires a habit of drawing inaccu
rately to begin with, though he may have the full inten
tion at the time of altering his lines to get them right
in the end. In the third place, he must acquire steadi
ness of hand. This he must gain by the habit of
drawing his lines continuous from one determined point
to another, without retouching, or, as it is called, paint
ing the line, — a point as important in figure as in

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS, 139
ornamental drawing ; the quick, and at the same time
certain, . apprehension of the form he is copying, and
the correct rendering of it on a flat surface, being the
end the artist aims at throughout his whole career.
Thus much conceded, the question arises as to the
best models for a beginner to work from. My answer
would be that he cannot do better than begin with
what he intends ending with, that is, the study of the
figure.^ All else is usually but time lost; at whatever
stage the drawing of the figure is taken up, the student
wUl find it as difficult as if he started with it at first.
At the same time I admit that what are called drawing-
models, that is, solid geometrical figures in wood, may
be of occasional use in the case of young or help
less students. If a student placed before a cast of a
statue or head shows himself incapable of rendering it
in any way inteUigibly, he may well be set to do a few
drawings in outline from geometrical models ; when, if
he does not soon show signs of progress, it is probable
that he has mistaken his vocation ; but this is of course a
matter for the discretion of the instructor, some students
being much slower than others. It would be dangerous,
however, to devote too rauch tirae to this stage of study;
' It must be understood that these remarks are throughout addressed
to students of figure-painting for pictures. For ornamental design a
more extended course of outline drawing from the first is necessary.

140 LECTURES ON ART,
especially when carried to the extent to be observed in the
schools of the Science and Art Department,^ it involves a
mere waste of time; and the student should practise by
preference from casts of heads, hands, feet, &c., proceeding
by degrees to full-length antique figures.
Thus far I have dealt only with the earliest and most
rudimentary stage of instruction, and most people who
have any knowledge, or hold any theories on the subject
of art-teaching, wiU probably not be of a very different
opinion on these points to myself. We come however
now to a matter requiring more serious consideration.
The aim of the student, after he can so draw an antique
figure or hea,d as to give correctly the general action
and proportions, and to mark definitely the shape of the
limbs and features, and the more important divisions of
the body within the outline, is to acquire the power of
presenting it to the eye as a rounded form. Now, out
line drawing goes but a littie way towards expressing
form, — or rather, though it may express with perfect
accuracy the outer or boundary lines of forms, it does
very little towards expressing those inner markings
which indicate the construction of the figure, and which
are made apparent to us only through shades more or
^ As much time used to be wasted over highly-stippled drawings of
cubes and cones in Schools of Art, as over the antique figures referred
to in Lecture III. p, io6.

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 141
less defined and gradated. It would therefore be an
error to carry too far the practice of drawing in raere
outline, for it is after all a conventional raethod of
representation, and to express correctly and intelligibly
in this manner the inner markings of the body requires
considerable knowledge of drawing.
There is a danger therefore of the student acquiring
a mannered way of seeing and drawing the muscular
and constructional indications, and it is much better
that he should proceed, as soon as possible, to study
them as they really present themselves to hira — that is
in light and shade — than that he should confine hiraself
to a hard and unreal outline. I raay, however, remark
in passing that a student may derive much benefit in
this early stage, if he looks at, and in leisure moraents
copies, good outline drawings of the figure, such as
Flaxman's illustrations to Homer and .zEschylus, so as
to leam how far it is possible in pure outline to express
the markings of the muscles and joints in the nude
figure. These illustrations have another advantage in being
exceUent studies of composition for beginners; and
although Flaxman may sometimes be found to give to
the faces of his heroes a somewhat exaggerated expres
sion, through a mannerism, contracted apparently in the
endeavour to impart to them something of the character

142 LECTURES ON ART.
of the ancient tragic mask, yet there is a knowledge of
the human form, and a grace and purity of design dis
played in the grouping of the figures and arrangement
of the draperies, which is well worth the attention of the
young student.
We suppose the student to have now arrived at the
stage of what is commonly called " shading " his figures,
and he enters upon the study of tone, which is probably,
of all the departments of study to which he has to
devote himself, the most subtle, the most complicated,
and the most comprehensive. I might almost go on to
call it the most iraportant, for it is so intiraately bound
up with the study of form and colour, that it cannot be
kept separate, and is, so to speak, continually inter
fering with the apprehension of thera. It is, however,
precisely the point of which our English students,
teachers, and painters (always omitting from the latter
category certain men of eminence, but including those
who practise the more popular kind of work) appear to
have the most imperfect appreciation. This I believe
to be due entirely to the general system of education
in our Art Schools. You will find that as a rule the
pictures in pur exhibitions are in their several degrees
strong on every point but this one.
You will find pictures in which the story is well and
pointedly told ; pictures which are in a high degree

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 143
poetical in conception and sentiment ; pictures harrao-
nious in colour, thoughtful in arrangeraent of forms and
lines, and effective in light and shade ; but such as
have any value or beauty as studies of tone, are only
occasionally to be found, and those almost entirely among
painters who have studied or worked abroad. Special
stress should be laid on the words effective in light and
shade used above, for it is the bane of English painters
that they will seek for effect in their pictures by any
kind of false trick of light and shade, rather than by a
scientific combination of their tme relations. This par
ticularly is a fault that students are apt to run into
under the influence of bad example. They cover a want
of thought in the composition of their pictures, and
are constantly advised by their friends to do so, by
heightening a light here, or deepening a tint there, in
defiance of all the laws of nature. There is no advice more
comraonly given to a young painter, if one of the inferior
personages in his picture interferes with the relief of the
principal figure, than that he should " scumble it over " ;
that is, place it in a sort of fog (dignified by the name
of aerial perspective), to "give it air,'' as it is caUed;
when the fault all the time is in the original com
position, which was so ill-arranged in the grouping that
sorae false device of this kind is necessary to bring out
the intended effect. There are many pictures by artists

144 LECTURES ON ART.
of reputation among us where this stupid trick is re
sorted to, to say nothing of others of the same kind.
Now the perception of tone, in its extended sense,
means the perception of that harmonious unity of effect,
under every circumstance, which necessarUy pervades all
objects and scenes in nature; and the right application
of those laws to compositions of form and colour ; and
it is impossible, unless a student is constantly directed
to the acquisition of that perception, from the time when
he begins by shading to give relief to his drawings, that
he should ever afterwards be able to impart it to his
pictures. The choice of effect depends indeed on the
taste of the painter.
Michelangelo loved a bold relief of light and shade,
his figures being generally half in light and half in shadow,
with a view to developing to the utmost not only those
beauties of form which are best displayed under those
conditions, but those qualities of modeUing with imper
ceptibly gradated half-tints and transparent shadows, to
which this particular effect of light and shade lends itself.
Rembrandt loved to relieve his principal figure or
group, or, in a portrait, the most important portion of
the subject, in a bright but softened sunhght, against a
luminous gloom, Titian preferred the broad, open, and
rather shadowless effect of the glowing light of the
evening sky; but each in his kind was master of the

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 145
effect he preferred ; and their pictures never fail to
convey the impress of absolute truth and unity of
tone. Compare such works as these with our ordinary
exhibition pictures, which are either forced up with a
consciously false treatment to make effect in the exhi
bitions, or which lose all the broad truth of tone which
is to be found in nature, in the desire to impress on
the spectator's notice the infinite labour that has been
bestowed on every trivial detail. Nor is it necessary
to be consciously false on this point ; ignorance of the
importance of a true perception of tone will allow the
painter to obtrade any or every other quality to the
detriment of this.
It may be, as I have said, a point of sentiment, or
of poetry, or of humour, or something inferior to these,
which is put forward, while the other more important
matter is forgotten. The perception of this quality of
tone is indeed a matter of education, the importance of
which is hardly felt among us ; and this want is in great
part due to the waste of the time spent, at an early
stage of work, over laboriously- executed drawings from'
the antique and other models, in which the primary
object of an intelligent understanding and reproduction
of the model is subordinated to the acquisition of a
laborious style of lithographic shading.
I have no hesitation in saying that I believe most of
L

146 LECTURES ON ART.
the want of perception of unity of tone among our
artists to arise from the common habit of laborious
work with the chalk-point. This use of the point, at all
events in the way which is prevalent in our art-schools,
not only involves loss of time, and the sinking of the
study of form and tone in that of mere execution, but
concentrates the attention of the student on minute
details which blind him to the general effect. It is for
this reason that I have always advised my students to
make use of the stump, rather than of the point, in
shading their drawings ; for the former, while it allows
of any amount of finish of modelling, lends itself par
ticularly well to the production of broad effects of tone,
and is moreover much easier for a beginner to manage
than the complicated method of shading with the point.
There is, it is true, an intelligent use of the point in
drawing, which proceeds naturally from the study of the
construction of the figure ; but it should be contracted
in actual drawing from the figure, and the lines made in
shading with the point should always be indicative of the
construction. Any student who shows a disposition to
work in this way with the point should be encouraged
in the use of it, but for the majority, the stump is by
far the best means of learning to shade. As there is
doubtless a certain amount of mechanical difficulty to
be got over in its employment, it is here again that

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 147
drawing-models may be made use of in teaching the
beginner how to make flat and evenly-gradated shades;
care being taken that he does not spend more time
over this than is necessary to facUitate his work for the
future. This first mechanical difficulty got over, the one main
point the student has to attend to is the general tone
or effect of the. object he is working from, whatever it
raay be. And this he will find his great difficulty, not
only as a beginner, but all through his course of study,
and indeed through his life ; it is so easy to see detail,
and it is so difficult to subordinate it to the general
tone. The student raust constantiy keep in raind his
subject as a whole, while at the saro.e tirae he does not
orait to give all detaUs their proper value. A prevaihng
fault with our students, and indeed with experienced
painters, is that of making the reflections too strong,
and therefore throwing the whole work out of tone.
This fault arises among students from the desire to ex
press distinctiy everything that is seen ; and in the pro
cess of doing this they forget the general balance of
light and shade. With painters the desire is rather to
give a spurious brilliancy to their pictures at the expense
of tmth. It is useless, in making a study of a head,
for instance, to have the proportions and features correct
in outiine, if in shading they are out of tone. A half-
L 2

148 LECTURES ON ART.
tint too dark, or a light too bright, wUl destroy the
unity of the work, and will cause it to present an
assemblage of features, each in itself possibly right, but
bearing no reference to the general roundness of the
head. Again, it is obvious that the tendons on the back of
a thin hand are long and clearly-defined strings : the
first impulse of the careful student is to dwell on this,
to the exclusion of the much more important place they
hold as subordinate to the general distribution of light
and shade. Consequently, he is certain to mark them
too strongly ; so that the back of the hand in his drawing
becomes a disconnected map of veins and tendons.
The difficulty arises from the fact that he has now two
matters to deal with — form and tone ; the forras he
knows he must represent, or it will not be a hand ; but
he must also, while still remembering the forras with
reference to the position of the lights, shadows, and
half-tints, forget them whUe thinking of their i-elative
values or strengths, and in this sense consider his model
not as a hand but as a study of tone ; otherwise the
result will be, as I have said, the map of a hand, and
not the representation of one. And so in making a
drawing of a whole figure. According to its position
with reference to the light, it may happen that a leading
muscular division raay be indicated by a half-tint so faint

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 149
as to be hardly visible; obser-ving its constructional
importance, the beginner will be hkely to mark it too
strong, to the destruction of the unity of effect in the
figure. Or again, on a plane receding from the light,
the muscles may stand out in great relief of light and
shade ; the student will observe this strong contrast of
lights and shadows in each separate muscular form, and
forget that the whole plane on which they are relieved
is in itself in half-tint ; again to the destruction of the
general roundness and unity of the figure.
There is also in connection with this subject another
point to which attention must be directed. It is not
only by dwelling on detail that a student may err in
not giving the proper tone to his figure ; the whole key
of the drawing may be too dark or too light. The
former is generally the fault of students who are in
earnest about their work ; this arises from their looking
too much at the shades with reference to each other,
without due reference to their surroundings ; that is to
say, from their paying attention only to their relative
and not to what for convenience I may here call their
absolute, strength in the scale of light and dark. It is
very common, for instance, to see the darkest shadow
in a drawing from a cast made absolutely, or very nearly,
black. Now with reference to other shadows in the
figure it may appear to be so, still more with reference

150 LECTURES ON ART,
to the lightest parts ; but let the student look at any
thing really black (as for instance the shadow under
the sleeve of a black coat), and he wUl then find the
real value of the shade he is representing in the scale
of tones in the room where he is working. This want
of reference to the surroundings is the real cause of the
blackness so frequently seen in drawings ; by bringing
the darkest shade to its proper value in the scale from
black to white, you wiU then have to lighten by degrees
the whole of the rest of the shading to bring it into
proportion, and the drawing will gradually acquire its
proper tone.
The importance of the correct perception of tone has
given rise in France to a system of drawing by tone
merely, to the ignoring of constructive dra-wing ; the
result is that there is no school where tone (or as they
call it "les valeurs") is better understood; the absur
dities and crudities of modern English art in this
respect being unknown there. At present the French
devote themselves too exclusively to this side of art,
and the result is that, in their seeking after its subtieties,
they have almost arrived at the conclusion that one ob
ject is as good to paint as another; a female head or a
piece of raw meat being looked upon as equally suitable
for the exercise of their skUl in painting. There is
no necessity for carrying matters to this extreme ; the

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 151
great Italian painters were none the less masters of tone
because they devoted themselves to the study of form,
and to the higher points of construction and ideal
beauty. But it must be kept in mind that no amount
of anatomical or constructional knowledge of drawing is
of value without a true perception of tone. A figure
which, as we say, is "all to pieces" in this respect,
however correct the outline, will never stand the light
of intelligent criticism. It is our want of perception on
this point that makes foreigners laugh when they see
our pictures ; and with regard to most of our work of
the more popular sort, the laugh is fully justified.^
I have thus far set forth the points a beginner has
to attend to during his preliminary course of study in
the antique, for there is no doubt that such a course is
necessary up to a certain point, before proceeding to
the study of the living model. So soon, however, as
' That there has been great improvement in English art in this
respect within the last decade there can be no doubt. The particular
garish look that was common to English exhibition-rooms is much
modified of late ; and French artists remarked on the great general
improvement in English art in the Paris Exhibition of last year (1878)
compared to what they saw of it in 1867. I was gratified to hear from
a French artist of distinction an opinion which is a confirmation of my
own, that our art has improved and will continue to improve, because
the English take what is good from other schools without sacrificing
their originality. He compared it with the art of the Belgian, Italian,
and other schools, which can only imitate

152 LECTURES ON ART.
the student has acquired sufficient comprehension of the
general proportions and character of the figure, he should
be set to work from the life.
The great facility in drawing the human figure to be
found among foreign artists, is no doubt mainly due to
the fact of there being but a limited time allowed both
for painting and drawing from the living model. In
the six sittings of two hours each, which is the usual
time allowed to French students in the Academy for
their drawings from the life, drawings are done in which
the utmost correctness is combined with the most ex
quisite finish; and what a French student can do, there is
no doubt that an English student ought to do ; it is a mere
question of the habit of acquiring certainty and facUity.
If the student is allowed too much time for his work,
he will easily faU into lazy and careless habits ; so that
this practice of early drawing from nature, and of being
allowed a rigorously limited time for each study, I con
sider most important for the acquisition of a good style
of work.
But at this point we enter on another branch of study.
Hitherto the student has been able to draw his figures
without more knowledge of construction or anatomy than
is given for his help in the course of the teaching he
receives. If he does not know as yet the position of
the coUar-bone in the skeleton, he can at all events see

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 153
it for himself in an antique figure, forming a ridge from
the pit of the neck to the point of the shoulder; and
as it is always to be found in the same place on the
figure, he wiU find no difficulty in drawing it more or
less accurately. But the case is different when he is
before the living model; a slight movement of the
shoulder, or a pressure on the elbow, wUl in certain
positions cause the collar-bone to start out in strong
relief, or disappear into the shoulder. In order that he
-may draw it with any accuracy, therefore, it is necessary
that he should know its form, the part it plays in the
construction of the body, where it is attached at either
end, and by what muscles it is surrounded. He must
therefore carry on with his study of drawing the study
of anatomy, which he will do by drawing from the
skeleton and anatomical casts, and attending if possible
a course of anatomical lectures. Such studies as appear
among the prize-drawings at South Kensington in which
the student has outlined an antique figure and drawn it
out as an anatomical subject, are very good at a more
advanced stage. Still better would be the sarae process
applied to drawings from the life-model, the anatomical
forms in the antique being generalised and difficult to
discover except by a very advanced student. It will
not, however, be of much use for him to study anatomy,
until he has made some progress in drawing : unless he

154 LECTURES ON ART.
has some general knowledge of the aspect of the human
figure which he can keep in mind while attending the
lectures, he wUl only half take in, and probably soon
forget all he hears, and the time spent in drawing ana
tomical studies would be better bestowed on his usual
work. It is better therefore not to devote too much
time to anatomy at first, as a competent instructor can
give all the assistance in this respect that is needed in
the earlier stages.
It raust be remembered that anatomy wiU not teach
drawing; it is only a help to the knowledge the student
is seeking for, the knowledge of the human form in all
its infinite varieties of action and position. I can even
conceive the possibility of acquiring a knowledge of the
figure, from continued practice in drawing it in all posi
tions, without any acquaintance with anatomy. The
Greek sculptors indeed are supposed by many to have
worked from a knowledge of the external aspects of the
figure only, the art of dissection being unknown to thera.
But such knowledge would seem to us to be impossible
of attainment even in a life-time by the most gifted
minds, while by the help of anatomy the ordinarj'
student raay gain by a short road the knowledge which
would otherwise be but slowly and gradually acquired
in the course of his studies. It raay therefore be taken
for granted that the more acquaintance with anatomy

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 155
the artist possesses, the more intimate will be his know
ledge of the external aspects of the figure, and the
better will he be able to draw it. There is no doubt
that Michelangelo, in his later years, was able, with a
very small amount of assistance from nature in the shape
of preliminary studies, frequently no more than slight
sketches, to draw out his grand figures and paint them
in fresco, with all their difficulties of foreshortening and
relief, purely from his profound knowledge of anatomy.
The advantage of this of course was that the figure
when painted was the complete expression of his first
intention; and he could out of his supreme knowledge
give to a figure whatever characteristics of beauty or
sublimity he pleased, as freely as if he were its creator.
If, therefore, I say that it is better not to take up this
study too soon, it is only because I think the student's
tirae may be better employed at first in acquiring know
ledge of the more generally important properties of form
and tone.
After the study of form and tone comes the study
of colour; and the student having passed a certain time
drawing in the Ufe-school, wiU be anxious to proceed
to the practice of this important part of his art. My
experience indeed is that students are frequentiy too
much in a hurry in this respect: they should remember
that there is a certain amount of drudgery which is

IS6 LECTURES ON ART.
unavoidable in the earlier stages of aU study, and that
art makes no exception to this rale. If, as is unfortu
nately only too frequently the case, the study of art is
taken up later in life than most others, the student
raust do his best to place hiraself in the position of a
beginner, and to understand that nothing but a regular
and methodical progress will be of any avail ; that the
ground must be gone over at whatever cost of patience ;
and that there is no such thing as jumping from one
difficulty to another. When the student can accomplish
a drawing from the life in black and white, which shall
convey a just impression of the movement, proportions,
and general characteristics of the model, and which at
the same time shall show that he has mastered the
more important points of anatomy and construction,
and is able to express thera in a workmanlike manner,
with a due regard to those qualities of tone to which
I have attached so much importance ; — I think that
then he may consider that he is entitled to add the
difficulties of colour to those which he already has to
deal with. I am aware that there is a school of artists
who consider that painting cannot be taken up too soon,
and that students should be taught form through the
medium of colour; but these I think are of the same
class as those who would teach drawing merely by the
study of tone, and their system tends to lead to the same

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 157
end, — the substitution of the lower arts of imitation, for
that incomparably higher art which aims at ideal beauty,
and which cannot be acquired vrithout a thorough training
in sound constructional drawing. That painting should
be carried on side by side with drawing frora the beginning
is far more inteUigible, for the difficulties of oU-painting
are extreme, so that one may almost say that it cannot
be undertaken too young. I am to some extent of that
opinion myself ; only, if the student must begin to paint
young, he must be stUl younger when he begins to draw,
for he cannot carry on the two studies systematically at
the same tirae ; and, in brief, the simpler study must
precede the raore difficult, at the risk of neither being
thoroughly learnt. Therefore until a student in the life
can draw the figure well enough not to be hampered
by difficulties of proportion and construction while he
is painting, it will be of no advantage to him to in
volve himself in further difficulties : and it -will be
found that he will hardly have gained this necessary
amount of proficiency, under two years of regular
work from the time of his beginning his course as a
student of art, though some may be more rapid in
their progress than others. I admit, however, that
whatever spare time a student has, and during the
vacations, there can no harm, but rather good, result
from his making studies in painting; it is only the

iSS LECTURES ON ART.
interruption of the regular course of work that I consider
objectionable. Now in painting, as in drawing, the just perception of
tone is of the highest possible importance. The absolute
colour of an object (supposing for convenience' sake that
there be such a thing) is liardly ever seen in nature ;
it is always more or less modified by the circumstances
under which it is seen. A simple example is sufficient
to explain my meaning. A blue drapery, in shade, without
reflection of any kind falling upon it, or light transmitted
through it, will be black (which is equally true of course
of any other colour). With a reflection upon it firom a
yellow wall it will appear green ; with a reflection from
a red wall it would appear purple, and so on ; now all this
tirae the drapery will be inherently blue, but to the
spectator it will appear of different colours according to
circumstances. The various tints that colours take under
various circumstances are not by any means always so
obvious as in this example ; indeed they raay be said to
be practically infinite ; but in every case it is the precise
tone of these apparent colours that the painter has to
discover and fix on his canvas in absolute colours, that
is to say in the various tints which he has mixed together
on his palette.
Now almost every painter has his pet system of painting.
There are all sorts of schemes for underpainting, glazing.

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 159
scumbling, and a hundred other processes, which are
calculated to give transparency to the shadows, brightness
to the lights, solidity to the masses, and I know not what ;
— the impression apparently being that solidity and trans
parency are to be obtained by some trick of painting
rather than by imitating the aspects of nature. But with
all this the student has nothing to do. It appears to rae
obvious, that, if in making his study, he can so match
on his canvas the colours and tone of the object he is
painting, that an exact resemblance shall result, nothing
further can be wished for ; if this is achieved the object wUl
appear solid and the shadows will appear transparent as a
matter of course. The intention is so to train the student's
eye that he shall be able to see, and see at once, the tones
and colours of his model; and if he is always painting
colours which he does not see, with a view of correcting
them afterwards by glazes and other raethods, what pro
bability is there that he will ever see colour truly ? His
only chance is by raatching each tint and each gradation
of tint to gain the necessary practice in seeing which is the
all-important matter ; it is his eye which he raust educate
to learn the art of painting. The right tones placed in
the right places, and the work is done. That is the whole
mystery of painting for a student ; aided by his previous
practice in drawing, the hand will certainly educate itself
with the eye. '

i6o LECTURES ON ART.
For a student, I said ; for when he has once mastered
this difficulty of seeing, and knows what nature is like,
he may take what liberties with his palette he pleases ; he
need never go -wrong : and if he thinks he can gain by
processes of painting qualities of workmanship which can
not be produced by this simple means of tone-matching
(as he no doubt can) he will not only have the liberty
to use them, but what is more important, the power of
doing so. To a student, however, processes are delusive ;
and only lead him to endeavour, as Reynolds I think has
said, to begin where the great men have left off. The
method I prescribe, therefore, is no method of painting
at all, but a method of study or education; it teaches no
process ; and I hope no one will imagine for a moment
that there is any short road to painting by means of a
process. To the beginnings of painting the same mle will apply
as to the beginnings of drawing ; the simplest proceeding
must come first. A student having obtained admission
to the painting class in his school, will begin best by
painting from the cast, not doing what are called at South
Kensington monochromes, which are not paintings but
mere light and shade studies in oil-colours, the imitation
of tone not being included ; but by really endeavouring
to imitate at once the exact tones of the cast. The method
indeed, universal in the Government schools, of raaking

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. i6i
monochrome paintings, on a system of not imitating the
tone of the casts, is about the most dangerous part of
all their system. The practice of merely making a drawing
in oil-colours, simply shuts out the one great difficulty in
painting ; that of keeping in mind the three great qualities
of form, tone, and colour. The only method of educating
the eye for colour is by teaching the student from the
very first to match his tones to those of the model. The
painting when placed at the side of the raodel should be
so like it as to be startling in its trath. When the student
can do this he raay allow full scope to his imagination ;
he will be able to paint what presents itself to his mind's
eye as easily as that which he sees with his bodily vision ;
but unless he can truly paint what he has before him
he can do nothing else.
It is useless to pursue any further the career of the
art-student. When he can paint reasonably well from the
cast, he will proceed to work from the living-model, which
¦will be the last stage in his course of instraction ; but
he must never give up continuing to draw, carrying on
this study along with that of painting. The various
other studies he will pursue do not come within the
limits of this paper, which touches only on the points
immediately connected with the study of the figure,
but he wiU do well, indeed he wUl find it necessary
if he aims at any high form of art, to pursue courses
M

l62 LECTURES ON ART.
of Perspective, and of Architecture; of the latter espe
cially, as opening out fields for the imagination in the
treatment of the higher classes of subject, which are
closed to any one ignorant of that art. He will also
carry on the study of water-colour greatly to his advan
tage; if he ever has the good fortune to have a
painting in fresco to do, he will hardly be able to
manage the material without previous practice in water-
colour; unless of course he has made fresco his special
study. As for the great masters of painting and
sculpture, if he has any love for his art he wUl
take a natural pleasure in constantly contemplating their
works. If I have expressed rayself clearly, I shall have been
understood to speak in this paper only of matters
•which are necessary in the education of all artists, to
whatever style of figure-painting they may devote them
selves. A true and correct perception of the three
points of Form, Tone, and Colour will have been seen
to be as necessary to the treatment of subjects of
a lower as well as of a higher order. They do not
any of them come under the category of things which
may be neglected or not, as the artist pleases. They
are the essentials, without which an artist cannot put
his ideas into proper form. It is useless for an artist
to put forward his poetical feeling, depth of religious

THE TRAINING OF ART STUDENTS. 163
sentiment, attention to beauty of detail, earnestness of
intention, or any other quality, in the place of the
workmanlike power which shall enable him to place
his intentions before us in an artistic form. And if it
were allowable to raake a choice araongst these scho
lastic qualities, I, for my part, should rather tolerate
a fault of drawing or of perspective, or an inharmonious
arrangeraent of colour, than a false rendering of tone.
The true perception, of this is, so to speak, a constant
in the works of all the great painters: for its sake
one forgives the absurdities of Correggio's drawing, and
the vulgarity of Rembrandt's heads ; its treatment is
developed in the works of Michelangelo to an equal
grandeur with that of form ; while it is the whole secret
of the position which Velasquez holds as the chief among
realistic painters. When Turner begins to lose his per
ception of it, all the poetical and imaginative power,
so copiously displayed in the conceptions of his sub
jects, does not save his pictures from being repulsive;
whUe we have one living painter who, though he may
not owe his popularity to this quality, has earned his
success araong artists and intelligent critics by his
wonderful power, when he chooses to exert it, of
seizing on its higher and raore subtle truths. A tme
appreciation of the important part it plays in those
external aspects of nature, which it is the business of
M 2

i64 LECTURES ON ART.
the artist to interpret, is never absent from the work
of any great master; and conversely it may be said
that no painter, of any time or country, can come
into the list of even second-rate artists, whose pictures
are deficient in this aU-important quality.

LECTURE VI. 1

ON THE STUDY OF NATURE.

In some interesting lectures on the Philosophy of the
Italian Art of the Renaissance, M. Henri Taine calls
attention to the immense advantage the old Italian
artists enjoyed over the raen of to-day, in the fact
that their minds were not overburdened with ideas.
Under modern conditions of life we think so rauch
and so subtly, that our impressions of nature no longer
come to us with simplicity and directness, while, accord
ing to M, Taine, a noble forra of art is only possible
when the iraages which nature stamps on our minds
are not blurred or distorted by the intrusion of our
ideas. This remark is a valuable one, inasmuch as it points
out one great difficulty which stands in the way of
a free development of art, the difficulty, that is, of
^ Part of an Address delivered at the St. Martin's School of Art.

i66 LECTURES ON ART.
securing that the study of nature shall be carried on
upon right principles. For this " study of nature " is not
as simple a matter as it appears at first sight, and it is
quite possible that we may pursue it in such a way
as to interpose ideas and prejudices of our own between
ourselves and nature, which may prevent our receiving
its impressions in the form most stimulating to the
artistic powers. I will endeavour to make this clearer
by a practical illustration derived from the study of
artistic ornament.
In this branch of art a novel idea was started some
little time ago, which had for its object a new appli
cation of the forms and colours of flowers to the
ornamenting of wall papers, hangings, and other
materials for surface decoration. This was, that the
student should take a flower or a plant, and commence
by drawing it in its natural form ; next, that he should
dissect the plant botanically, making separate geome
trical drawings, plans, and sections, of the petals,
corolla, stamen, pistU, branching of the leaves from
the stem, &c., that he might understand how the
flowers could be -treated geometrically; thirdly, that
from these drawings a geometrical pattern should be
raade, combining artistically the forms which had been
discovered during the process. Now here was an idea,
a thing that had never been thought of before ; so that

ON THE STUDY OF NATURE. 167
a step forward in a direction never before explored
seemed inevitable. Yet I must express my opinion
that quite the most unfortunate attempts at decorative
patterns, both as regards form and colour, that I have
ever seen, were some which were produced by this
infallible process !
The reason is simply this, that the idea takes in the
student's mind the place of the impression; he thinks
the design must necessarily turn out well, for he has
been taught that nature's forms are beautiful; and here
are nature's forras reduced to their simplest expression,
and, with due deference to the exigencies of a formal
design, combined in the way in which nature combines
them. Unfortunately, this process of reasoning does
not necessarily lead to a work of art ; but merely to
an ingenious combination, which may be absolutely
deficient in any qualities of beauty or prettiness.
Nature is not necessarily beautiful in all her forras, in
spite of all that we are taught as children, — still less
dissected nature. It is not every flower that is good
in colour and graceful in form; and it is the business
of the artist to select what is beautiful and reject what
is ugly and unsuitable. Now the dissection of a flower,
however ingenious the idea may seem, may indeed give
the student an admirable understanding of its botanical
properties, but does not necessarily lead to an appreciation

i6S LECTURES ON ART.
of its artistic fitness for ornament. I would not have
students neglect any means of advancing themselves in
the knowledge of the construction of natural growths :
to know the anatomy of a flower is as useful in
drawing it as to know the anatomy of the body in
drawing the human figure; but unless the raind has
impressed upon it by instinct or observation a distinct
image of the various graces of form, and harmonious
combinations of colour, which flowers and plants possess
in their natural state, no amount of ideas, acquired in
the way just described, wUl be of the least use for
the production of good artistic design. Ancient art
produced ornamental desig.ns without end, of the mott
perfect beauty, without the necessity of bringing in
any such ideas. These decorative forms were produced
by a pure natural instinct, which led the ancients to
combine and modify in the most beautiful manner the
most beautiful natural forms. There are also abundant
examples of oriental decorative work of the most ordi
nary kind, which are perfect in proportion, form, and
colour. In such cases we can see in the first place
that the beauty of certain natural forms had been im
pressed in the most vivid manner upon the designer's
mind, and in the second, that his hand was guided
by a sort of unconscious instinct when he sought to
apply those beautiful forms to a decorative purpose.

ON THE STUDY OF NATURE. 169
In pictorial art also the same difficulty is constantly
occurring : our ideas are continually getting the better of
our natural impressions. The remedy is, however, the
same as in the other case, and is fortunately easier of
application. The highest possible forms of pictorial
art have as their object the representation of the human
form and face in all their varied aspects of tragic and
joyful expression. There the imitation of nature is the
principal object, only it is an imitation which leaves out
of sight all that is weak, ungainly, or ignoble, and de
lights only in beauty, strength, and life, as is the case
in the noble works of the Greek and Italian schools.
For the student of to-day there is accordingly but one
thing to aim at, and that is so to study nature as to
receive and retain the raost complete and distinct im
pressions. Once let his raind be thoroughly imbued
with a trae knowledge of nature, and he may use it as
he pleases ; if he has studied thoroughly he is not
likely to go far wrong. But to do this, he must get
rid of extraneous ideas, and rely on the images which
are formed in his mind, and which nature constantly
presents to his eyes. And here as before a practical
illustration raay be of service.
What I am about to refer to is a very strong and
very curious instance of the way in which ideas run
away with us in art, to the prejudice of what we might

170 LECTURES ON ART.
naturally do if we relied on our impressions alone. It
has reference to the origin twenty years ago of what
was caUed the Pre-Raphaelite movement; and I trust
that I may not be supposed in these remarks to be
attempting to throw ridicule on the enthusiasm of young
raen, anxious to raake a reform which was urgently
needed, who have long ago grown out of the weak
nesses which are incidental to enthusiasm, and to
whora, as men of genius, we owe the utmost respect
and gratitude. The instance is, however, a very appo
site one. At the beginning of this movement, one of
the predominant ideas was that purity is in all its
forms essential to good art. Purity of subject, purity
of sentiment, purity of expression, being all necessary,
were only to be secured by the utmost purity of
form and colour. To attain to purity of colour was a
raost important point, and to this end nothing but the
raost refined and brilliant pigments were to be used.
Ochres and umbers were earthy, and perhaps there
fore eartiUy, so the newest chemical compounds were
sought out for the sake of procuring the clearest and
brightest tints of green, yellow, scarlet, violet, and
blue, that could be eraployed for the palette. These,
combined in prismatic hues on the purest white, were
to take the place in flesh-tints of the sober colours
which artists had been content to use up to that time.

ON THE STUDY OF NATURE, 171
The idea was carried so far that the use of these
colours was considered as a sort of test of the earnest
ness of a painter in his work, and they were even
invested with a sort of religious halo. Here then is a
case where the idea completely out-mastered the impres
sion, for it is certain that no painter trusting to his eyes
alone would paint the shade of even the purest maiden's
cheek with violet madder and emerald green, and with
cadmium or orange vermilion to complete the triad of
prismatic colours.
The above is perhaps an extreme instance, but the
influence of the same kind of feeling may be traced
in various forms through the whole range of our
modern art Sometimes it is a religious, sometimes a
sentimental, sometimes a scientific idea which obtains
possession of the painter's mind with the effect of
deadening his trae artistic perceptions. The cause may
be found in the want of training coramon to English
artists, which leads them to reject through ignorance and
prejudice what practice and experience have shown to be
convenient, if not necessary, modes of procedure.

LECTURE VII.i
VALUE OF PRIZES.
The few words which I have to offer to you on the pre
sent occasion are concemed with the result of the recent
competition for Scholarships and Prizes, and I shall endea
vour in them to explain the reasons by which I have been
guided in making the awards, since without a knowledge
of these reasons half the value of the prizes would be
lost to you.
I am aware that there are many persons who consider
that the principle of prize-giving is altogether a -wrong
one, and who hold that the student's enthusiasm should
be powerful enough to enable hira to dispense with the
additional stimulus of competition. Experience does not,
^ Portion of a Lecture given at the end of the first session of the
Slade School. There are a few practical hints iu this lecture on
various subjects connected with the ordinary school course, which made
me think it worth publishing ; but it will probably not be found to
contain much of interest for people in general.

VALUE OF PRIZES. 173
however, lend any force to this view. Practically speaking,
it is only when the students are spurred on to their best
efforts in the straggle for a prize that the teacher is
enabled to judge accurately of the progress they have
made ; and though students raay doubtless be found who
work less well than usual in a competition, it is far raore
generally the case that they do not even themselves know
what they can do until their energies are called out in this
manner. Another valuable element in these competitions
is, that in awarding the prize to a particular drawing, the
master is able to show in a practical manner the style of
work which he considers the best for a student to pursue.
At the same time the successful competitors must not
imagine that they have completed their education in the
different departments of study because they have won
prizes in them. The prizes are given, not because the
student is perfect in his work, but because he is the best ;
and it must be remembered that there are two ways in
which he may be the best— one where in a good competi
tion he carries all before him, and another where he is
only first because the rest lag behind.
With regard to the Scholarships, it is worthy of notice
that the number of competitors ehgible in point of age,
and qualified to pass the preliminary examination in
general subjects, should bear such a very sraall proportion
to the whole number of students in the school. The

174 LECTURES ON ART,
reason is probably to be found in the fact that parents
as a rule cannot raake up their minds to let their children
study seriously as artists untU the time has gone by at
which they could enter for these scholarships.^ The great
majority, treating art as an elegant accomplishment to be
practised in leisure hours, would doubtless prefer that
their sons should make their living in some other way ;
the effect of which is, that by the time the inclination
shown becomes too strong to be resisted, it is generaUy
somewhat late for a student to begin ' his course. The
fact that more than half the competitors on this occasion
are ladies, points in the same direction ; for as art is one
of the very few professions in which women can compete
with men, those who choose it as a means of liveli
hood will raake every effort to begin early, whUe the far
wider field open to the energies of young men tends to
lessen the number of those who devote themselves from
the first to art. It may, however, be hoped that parents
will be induced by the liberal endowment of these scholar
ships to permit their sons to enter on their artistic studies
at an earlier age. As it is, for the next few years the
young ladies competing will no doubt be in a majority,
though when the still-lingering prejudices against art as a
^ By the terms of Mr. Slade's will, six scholarships of 50/. a year,
tenable for three years, are open to competition among students under
19 years of age.

VALUE OF PRIZES. 175
profession have disappeared, we may hope to see an equal
number of competitors from each sex.
To pass on to the subject of Prize drawings. It must
be understood that the prize is necessarily awarded in
every case to the work which is the best done, and does
not depend upon the mere amount of pains the student
raay have taken, though it may be laid down as a general
mle that the hardest worker gets in first at the end. With
regard to the prize for drawing from the life, the only
possible principle is to bestow it on the figure which is
best in point of drawing — best, that is, in outline, and in
the expression it gives to the character of the model-
execution or workmanship being necessarily put in the
second place. The iraportant points to be considered
are the general action and proportion of the figure,
the position of the joints and setting on of the head,
lirabs, and extremities, the correctness of the outhne, and
the elegance of the form, while an exact resemblance to
the face of the model should always be aimed at. Excel
lence in these matters is difficult of attainment and requires
the most painstaking study, while the execution of the
dra-wing is a mere question of practice, and comes of itself
if the other points are carefully attended to.
In connection with this subject, students cannot be too
constantly warned against attempting to give a specious
appearance of prettiness to their work by an easily-acquired

176 LECTURES ON ART,
knack of execution. The words of Sir Joshua Reynolds
on this point are well worthy of quotation, and I may
take the opportunity of recommending his Discourses on
Art to those who are not already acquainted with them,
containing as they do the very, best precepts that are to
be found for the guidance of the learner. His Discourses
are indeed a mine of pithy and apposite phrases, each of
which might serve as the text for a lecture. Upon this
matter he says : — "A lively, and what is called a masterly,
handling of the chalk or pencil, are, it must be confessed,
captivating qualities to young minds, and become of course
the objects of their ambition. They endeavour to imitate
these dazzling excellencies, which they wiU find no great
labour in attaining. After much time spent in these
frivolous pursuits, the difficulty will be to retreat ; but it
will then be too late, and there is scarce an instance of
return to scrupulous labour after the mind has been
debauched and deceived by this fallacious mastery."
Reynolds says again, a little further on : — " A student is
not always advancing because he is employed ; he must
apply his strength to the part of art where the real
difficulties lie." And again : — -" The students, instead of
vying with each other which shaU have the readiest
hand, should be taught to contend who shall have the
purest and most correct outline." The application of
these remarks wUl be clear ; but a word of warning is

VALUE OF PRIZES. 177
necessary on the other side, lest it should be supposed that
because more stress is laid on general correctness than
on finished execution, you are therefore exempted from
bestowing care upon the latter point. It must be remem
bered that attention to detaU, although it comes after
attention to general form, is not on that account of
secondary importance. It is the tendency to make it take
the place of the other' unduly that must be guarded against.
In the case of the prize for painting, the same
general considerations hold good. The figure must not
only be well painted, but must be well drawn, though
excellence in painting is obviously the quality to which
most weight must be given. With respect to the
painting and drawing of details, which are not always
easily seen at the distance you require for taking in
the whole figure, you must adopt the habit of going
close up to the model to gain a nearer view of them.
Inability to see often means want of knowledge, whUe
forras that you understand you can generally see.
Nothing is more objectionable than the use of opera
glasses under these circumstances. Those who are short
sighted had better wear spectacles ; an opera glass
isolates the details and throws them out of their true
proportion, thus confirming the dangerous tendency to
sacrifice unity to the elaboration of unimportant parts,
against which I have often warned you. N

178 LECTURES ON ART,
There remain for notice the prize compositions, the
subject for which is the wrestling of Jacob with the
Angel, as described in these words: "And Jacob was
left alone ; and there wrestled a man with him until
the breaking of the day. And when he saw that he
pre-i'ailed not against him, he touched the hollow of
his thigh : and the hollow of Jacob's thigh was out of
joint, as he wrestled with hira. And he said. Let me
go, for the day breaketh : And he said, I will not let
thee go, except thou bless me." In judging these, as
none of the students are as yet very advanced in the
technical parts of their art, the drawing of the figures
must be put as far as possible out of the question, and
the award depend upon which sketch tells the story best,
and presents the most agreeable form of composition.
Now in the treatment of this subject there are two
points that might be taken, — one, the act of wrestling ;
the other, the determination of Jacob not to let the
Angel go, although disabled in the way described in
the text. Of these two points I think that those who
have chosen the latter have shewn the raost originality
of idea, and the best appreciation of the meaning of
the subject, since it affords more opportunity for ex
pression than the mere act of wrestling. This however
is quite capable of being treated in a very noble and
dignified manner. Supposing it were chosen, the first

VALUE OF PRIZES, 179
thing necessary would be to make it something more
than a mere wrestiing match. At the outset you must
invest both figures with a certain dignity suited to the
Scriptural and legendary nature of the story. Both in
his face and figure you must shew that Jacob is no ordi
nary mortal. You must give him the grandeur and
dignity of the patriarch of the chosen people, with the
strength that should fit him to undertake a combat
with a being of superhuman attributes ; while in the
figure of the Angel you must combine with the effort
of the struggle, a look of ease and conscious superiority
in the face, and a simpler majesty and beauty of form.
In the figure of Jacob the effort should be more
painful; while the effect of the exertion should be more
apparent on a wiry and muscular frame, suited to a
simple and patriarchal personage. In this way Jacob and
the Angel might be distinguished from one another at a
glance without the addition of wings or a halo to the
Angel. For a wonderful expression of ease combined with
effort, I may caU attention to a group in Michelangelo's
Last Judgment, where an angel and a demon are
disputing the possession of a soul rising from the earth ;
the demon is exerting his utmost strength in pulling
the figure downwards, while the angel soars upwards with
a calm dignity and an appearance of conscious and

i8o LECTURES ON ART.
irresistible might which makes a sublime contrast with the
ignominious exertions of the other.
The landscape in this, as in every other subject of an
exalted kind, should be of the simplest possible nature,
so as not to interfere in any way with the interest of the
figures. To make the composition a landscape in which
the figures only take a secondary place, is quite out of
character with the dignity of the subject; which demands
that our attention should be occupied as much by the
figures as possible, the surroundings being only sufficient
to add to the impressiveness of the scene and give such
local character as may be deemed necessary.
In considering the second point which might be taken
in this story, the detention of the Angel by Jacob until
he has blessed him, the general treatment of the figures
must be the sarae as in the former case, but the struggle
of Jacob should be that of a disabled man, and what
will be required will be rather a kind of desperate
clinging on his part ; and as a certain reluctance on the
part of the Angel is implied in the text it will be
necessary to convey this impression in the action of his
figure. Next to the treatment of the subject, comes the
equally important point of the composition of the group
Lionardo da Vinci goes so far as to say that " the prin
cipal part of painting lies in the art of raaking happy

VALUE OF PRIZES, rSi
compositions. The expression is the next part in dignity,
and consists in giving each figure the necessary attention
to what it is doing." This is doubtless in one sense right,
for the picture is not a picture at all unless well com
posed ; if it consists merely in the rendering of an
action, it will be no better than a photograph of a
good actor might be ; but at the same time it must
be borne in mind that a composition, which is agreeable
in lines, but in which the figures are deficient in action,
or the action not in accordance with nature, is mere
emptiness, and signifies nothing, however skUful raay
have been the designer.
In this as in all corapositions it will be necessary to pay
particular attention to the draperies, both as to costurae and
arrangement. It would be possible, no doubt, to treat it
with nude figures only, but it would require a Michelangelo
to do it ; the superhuman nature of the Angel would then
be expressed by his superior beauty of face and form alone ;
but the experiment would be dangerous for more ordinary
mortals, and faUure would involve so ignominious and
undignified a presentation of a noble theme that I should
not advise a student to make the attempt. A much easier
method of conveying the contrast between the two figures
may be found by clothing them in draperies of different
character. That of the Angel, for instance, may be the
conventional flowing dress, girt up for the convenience of

I82 LECTURES ON ART.
the strife ; while the dress of Jacob may very weU consist
of such a sheepskin coat and rough thick mantle as a
shepherd would wear. Special costume, indeed, it is not
advisable to introduce ; rather, it is most desirable to
avoid ; anything at all approaching the dress of the modern
Bedouin Arab would be fatal, even if correct, as imme
diately associating the actors in the scene with the common
places of modem Oriental life, and so destroying the
dignified and exalted impressions which we always associate
with the Biblical narrative. But any arrangement which
should suggest a generic type of the primitive shepherd's
dress would be correct. It would be appropriate to make
Jacob wrestling in his under-garment, having cast his mantle
to the ground ; and in this case the mantle might usefully
assist the lines and masses of the composition by being
the means of connecting the group together. The great
and important use of drapery in a composition is, not
merely to serve as a covering to the lirabs, or to give
character through costume, but to add dignity or grace to
the figures, to assist their movement by the direction of its
folds, and to knit together by broad masses or leading
lines the various parts of the composition ; and in the
colouring of a picture it is of course invaluable. Viewed
in this light it is perhaps the most difficult part of a
picture, and that which requires the most knowledge and
study.

VALUE OF PRIZES. 183
It would be of great advantage to the Students if the
sketches submitted in this competition were now taken up
to be carried further, and after having been corrected and
improved in composition, in accordance with my remarks,
were worked out from nature. Studies of the action of
the figures should be made from models, and persevered
in till the required action is obtained. Where necessary
two models should be used together. Then must follow
separate studies of the hands, feet, heads, and draperies ;
of wings, if the angel is to be represented with wings, and
of any other accessories that may be required in the picture.
Finally, a carefully finished cartoon should be made in
chalk or charcoal, with the figures about twenty inches or
two feet high. Those to whom raodels are inaccessible
must, when they have fully made up their minds as to the
action of their figures, have recourse to prints, antique
statues, and the like, for assistance in the matter of
drawing. Aids of this kind should not of course be looked
to for the suggestion of ideas, but should merely serve as
substitutes for models.
I have here given you nothing more than hints as to
how such a subject as you have for competition may be
treated. A raan of genius raight no doubt defy any of
the rules for composition here suggested, and produce a
work of great and original merit. But if you proceed

i84 LECTURES ON ART.
on these hnes you will be safer than by trusting to your
own unaided original gifts, and by working out your
design in this way you will have gained a most im
portant step in preparing yourself for the painting of
pictures later on in your career.

LECTURE VIIL'
OBJECTS. OF STUD-y.
In the few general remarks with which I prefaced the
consideration of the prize-drawings at the close of last
Session, I signified my intention of developing into
the form of a more elaborated lecture the hints I
then threw out on the objects of study in art. But
a lecturer who is obliged to be frequently before an
audience, whether of professed students or an interested
public, labours under the disadvantages belonging to a
limited theme, that his endeavours to impress on them
his views on the theory and practice of art must
result in a certain amount of repetition, and conse
quently of monotony. For the subject is of a limited
nature, and it is not easy to find anything to say which
is not already to a certain extent famUiar to the listener,
either as derived from previous study or experience, or
as the result of his own unaided reflection.
^ Given at the opening of the fourth Session of the Slade School,

i86 LECTURES ON ART.
In other subjects there is generally some matter suffi
ciently new to require explanation, discussion or refu
tation. The discoveries of Science are inexhaustible ;
there is always something fresh to tell of, or some new
theory being founded on the basis of old discoveries.
A scientific point moreover has the raerit of being raore
or less demonstrable ; if different opinions are held upon
it, arguments of an interesting and easily appreciable
nature can be brought to bear on the discussion, and
until the demonstration is complete the interest is ever
new. But the lecturer on art has no such means of
interesting his hearers ; to express myself perhaps para
doxically, a person must be interested in art to be
interested in a lecture on art ; — an argument, though it
may be backed up by the highest authority, can never
be more than the expression of a private opinion ; at
least, it will remain so until philosophers have deve
loped the modern theory, that there is a discoverable
and certain basis for criticism in matters of beauty and
therefore of art, and that a sufficient study of the sub
ject will make the relative values of various styles a
matter of certain calculation.
The lecture I read to you at the beginning of last
Session I devoted to the consideration of methods of study ;
and I pointed out the successive stages to be gone over in
the, course of a system of instruction, dwelling particularly

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 187
on the necessity of a systematic and workmanlike execu
tion, and explaining that attention to the important general
truths of form, tone, and colour, raust be accorapanied by
careful finish and study of detail, and that it is of the
utmost importance that the work should be done without
more than the needful amount of time being spent upon it.
These are the points I more particularly insisted on, and
in considering the Objects of Study I give the reasons for
the recommendations I then made, and their importance
will I hope become apparent. In arranging a system of
Instruction, we have to bear in mind not only the best
means by which that system may be impressed on the
mind of the learner, but its fitness for the end in view;
that is, for such a development of his natural gifts, as will
give him the free and complete use of them, as well as
such a habit of good work that the carrying out of his
ideas shall be in no way hampered by difficulties of execu
tion. The power of freely exercising the faculties rather
than special training for a particular style, is a prominent
matter for consideration in arranging such a system. The
placing of good examples before students is nevertheless
an important part of any plan of study ; thus it is necessary
constantly' to urge them to the contemplation and imita
tion of great masters of past times, by which they may learn
the possibUities of the , art they are preparing for, and
endeavour to emulate them in their own practice. These,

iS8 LECTURES ON ART.
therefore, are the two principal objects of study, the
development of the faculties, and the cultivation of taste,
and they must be considered together in treating of the
subject in detaU. The future career of the student being
undoubtedly determined not only by the course of study
pursued, but by the opinions expressed by his professors
as to the forra which his efforts should take in the end,
it becoraes a matter of necessity not only to speak of and
place before him the best method of study and the highest
examples for his imitation ; it is iraportant also to direct
his attention to the bad results of a bad method or incom
plete course of study, and to the limits which he imposes
on himself by aiming short of what his talents and capa
bilities will admit; and as he is incited to emulate, or at
least to appreciate, the incomparable achievements of the
great artists of antiquity or the Renaissance, by having
pointed out to him the beauties they contain, so it would be
an easy task to set before him certain works as a warning
against the indifference to study and to the higher aims of
art, which is too prevalent at the present time. This, how
ever, in a public place is forbidden ground ; in such
circumstances we must follow an excellent rule of the
Royal Academy, which forbids the lecturer to make any
comments or criticisms on the productions or opinions
of living artists in this country. Such remarks would
doubtless give a raost pointed interest to a lecture on

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 189
Art, but it would be at the risk of unjustly wounding
susceptibUities ; it is necessary therefore to make all
criticisms on the work of the present day as general as
possible, and even then it is hard to veil references, if not
to particular persons, at least to particular schools of art.
It is nevertheless impossible for me, as perhaps I need
hardly say, to sympathise with either the aims or the
productions of the large majority of modern artists. I
recognise a certain small number of eminent men among
us who are artists in the true sense, but whom it would
be invidious to name ; beyond this I recognise a few
younger painters whose aims are such as artists should be,
with a strong feeling for the sentiment of beauty, but who
are hampered in every direction by want of a proper and
complete education ; beyond that is a vast majority whom
I can hardly consent to call artists ; not, it must be clearly
understood, because they do not treat the kind of subject
which I personally prefer or admire, but because they fall
short on their own ground in those qualities which are
essential to the making of a work of art,' however
unimportant the subject. And this last remark will give
you the key to all the opinions I hold on the objects
of a system of Instraction. To train a student, what
ever his ultimate career is to be, for the highest
forms of art is the one end I keep in view. Thus the
subjects I give out for practice in composition are always

igo LECTURES ON ART.
drawn from Biblical or classical sources, or are of a kind
which require treatment of a classical nature — i.e., they
require the introduction of nude or classically-draped
figures ; not because I think that no subjects of another
nature should be treated ; if I thought that I should be
illogical in admiring much that gives me pleasure ; but
because I consider that practice in that form of art,
demanding as it does the highest sense of beauty, and
involving the greatest difficulties in drawing and design,
is the best preparation for any style which the student's
natural tendencies will lead him ultimately to adopt.
Again, the study of the nude figure holds a principal,
indeed an almost exclusive, place in this School on the
same grounds ; to draw the nude figure well will enable
the artist to draw anything which does not require special
technical teaching. A youth desirous of becoming a land
scape painter cannot do better than study the drawing,
painting, and composition of figures ; it will give him a
power of drawing to be acquired in no other way, besides
cultivating his taste, his style, and his feeling for beauty
of arrangeraent. The mere introduction which it gives him
to the works of the great figure painters will be suggestive
of a higher order of landscape than that which is gained
by the trivial and photographic studies of nature which
pass for pictures among the younger school of landscape
painters. It will suggest to his mind the perception that

OBJECTS OF STUDY, 191
there is in landscape as in figure painting such a thing as
abstract form. That trees and rocks have as it were bones
and sinews, which underlie what is apparent to the super
ficial observer, and that neither the tricks of broad effect
to be gained under the usual water-colour routine, nor the
elaborate but trivial studies of surface or of construction
which grew up in opposition, and as it were as an antidote
to the clever but mannered dexterity of a corrupt school
of landscape painting, will be sufficient for the production
of a real work of art ; he must understand and see in
nature the great leading forras and masses of tone and
colour on which was formed the style of Claude, Poussin,
Wilson, Turner, and others. It is the tradition of their
works which is faintly reflected in the mannered and
dexterous style to which I have just referred, and
to their broad perceptions of nature the other or photo
graphic style should serve but as prelirainary study. A
proper course of study in a school of figure painting should
lead above all things to the conviction that though detail
must be known, understood, and expressed, it must be
kept subordinated, so as not to force itself unduly on the
eye. This knowledge it is my constant endeavour to
impress on ray students, and it is as important for the
landscape as for the figure painter; but it must not be
done by the ignoring, but by the proper expression, of
detaU ; the first is easy enough, and is but too comraonly

192 LECTURES ON ART.
practised. I do not pretend that the great painters named
above went through such a course of figure study as I
should propose ; but they were men of great genius, and
both instinct, tradition, and cultivation led them to see
nature in a grand and magnificent manner. And as an
illustration of my meaning on this last point, I cannot do
better than draw attention to Turner's great picture of the
Garden of the Hesperides in the National Gallery. Think
ing this, as I do, the finest design of a landscape he ever
made, I am of opinion that it is worth study as an illus
tration of that higher truth which is gained through
the intimate knowledge of nature, a knowledge which
having all by heart, pushes aside everything which is
worthless and not subservient to the end in view.
Moreover, it is entirely free from the manner acquired
from Claude and Wilson, a manner on which, it is
trae, he invariably grafted something so poetical and
imaginative as always to make the work his own ; but
I mean that their influence is to be traced only in
the great breadth and massiveness of the composition,
and not as having suggested the idea or arrangement.
The originality in the conception of the great mass of rock
pushed out into the middle of the valley, and which is the
key-stone of the picture, is only equalled by the surprising
trath of its drawing and the luminous sunhght in its colour.
Here indeed you will see what I have caUed the very bones

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 193
of the rock ; trivialities of detaU are lost in the bold treat
ment of its contorted mass and in the granite hardness
given to its surface, but are suggested in wonderful grada
tions of colour ; and you will further observe the simple
but beautiful arrangement of the cloud, reduced to its
simplest expression in form, but admirable in its gradation
of light and shade and warra reflection. All combines
to place this picture on the highest level as a work of
poetry and of art : the mysterious gloom of the distant
ravine ; the dragon, his breath mingling with the
clouds, and hardly distinguishable at first from the rock
on which he lies; the opening into the valley on the
right (doing more for the poetry of the picture in the
glimpse it gives us of its sunlit and smiling depths than
a less reticent treatment could possibly have done) ;
the bold opposing mass of trees iu the centre; the
agreeable disposition of the figures in the foreground by
the deep and tranquil stream, combining and contrasting
harmoniously with the few valuable straight lines of the
fragments of architecture; the clearness of the blue sky
with the bright peaks high up cutting sharply against
it ; the exact balance of forra and colour, and light
and shade ; the qualities of painting, the certainty, rich
ness and fullness of the brushwork — all these, I say,
combine to place it in my mind as one of the great
original pictures of the world. A certain blackness in
o

194 LECTURES ON ART.
the foreground alone is a remnant of his early man
nerism, but this is a point which need not occupy us,
as I am not criticising, but only pointing out beauties.
Indeed to make a comparative criticism of Turner or any
other painter or their works is not ray intention at present,
only to draw your attention to the capabilities of landscape
when used as a field on which to exercise the imagination ;
such work as this is truer to nature, more really and pro
foundly true, than the most admirably-executed facsimiles
of localities. Such art as this is dead now; studies are
made frora nature, not as a means for supplying the mind
with material, but as an end. And as I see that the best
landscape painters of to-day are to be found among the
figure painters, and as I know that the drawing of the
figure is the best preparation for all other drawing, for
these and for the other reasons I have given, I am con
vinced that even a student who intends to devote himself to
landscape pure and simple, can best cultivate both technical
and imaginative faculties by the study of the figure. I need
hardly add, though for fear of being misunderstood it may
be better to do so, that I have no intention of excluding
from the range of the landscape painter's education the
necessary amount of careful and painstaking study of forms
and colour from nature itself; obviously it is essential.
I have not unfrequently been asked whether landscape
painting is taught in this school, and why it might not

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 195
be added as a separate course of instraction. My answer
is, that there is no such thing as teaching landscape
painting ; I cannot consent to consider it a separate art ;
teach a student to draw and paint, and he will paint land
scape or figures according as his inclination to one or the
other dictates. My object in drawing your attention to
this subject is to point out that the attainment of those
qualities which I have described as being necessary
to a landscape p.ainter, that power of subordination of
detaU, that power of reticence arising from the know
ledge of what is worthless and so to be rejected, of
what is iraportant and so to be retained as valuable,
is the very foundation of all art, and is one of the
most iraportant ends to which study is to be directed.
It is what gives value to such humble efforts as the study
of still-life subjects, and raises them — as in the works of
the French painters, Chardin especially, and of some
of the Dutch painters — above the level of mere mechanical
imitations, and transforras them into works capable of
giving us real pleasure. I dwell, and have dwelt, always
on these particular qualities, as the tendency at this tirae
and in this country is precisely in the opposite direction,
towards giving detail for the sake of detail ; towards a
delight in the trivialities of nature, which, charming in
themselves, are only charming in a picture when kept in
their proper place ; and I dwell on them because uo other
o 2

196 LECTURES ON ART.
qualities will make up for the want of them, and no work of
any kind or style can be great without thera ; but in con
sidering the objects of study we have other matters hardly
less iraportant to keep in mind. In placing the study of the
figure, as I do, as an essential preparation for the painter's
art of whatever style, I must not lose sight of the fact that
the painting of the figure, nude or draped, in all its infinite
varieties of expression, either in action or in repose, is
after all the highest form which that art can take. The
human face and form remain the most beautiful of created
things, and the most worthy of our study. What is it to us
that we are told that classical subjects and nude figures
have nothing to do with us at the present day? It is
not Greeks or Romans we wish specially to paint, it is
humanity in the form which gives us the best opportunity
of displaying its beauty. One would think, if we listened
to prevalent opinions on this subject, that we have no
bodies, more or less beautiful, under our clothes. I would
almost give as a reason for painting subjects that involve
the treatraent of the nude figure, the one fact which is put
forward as an arguraent against them, that we never see
the nude figure now. Be this as it may, it is not that the
treatment of a modern subject is incapable of beauty or
interest ; what we have to consider is that subjects called
classical are capable of a rauch higher beauty. That
indefinable essence which we call the artistic gift can

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 197
doubtless invest with beauty the humblest subject, and
where it exists, although we may find want of ambition,
we shaU never find vulgarity; but when cultivated to
appreciate the higher forms of beauty, it wUl hardly con
descend to return to treat of lower matters. The outcry
indeed for the modernising of art merely means that it
should be brought down to the level of ignorant people,
and there is no difficulty in finding a sufficient supply of
what is suited to their taste. To discuss this subject
would, however, be irrelevant at the present tirae, and
lead rae frora ray argument. Although, then, I say that
the object of studying the figure is so to cultivate the
natural gifts of the painter as to fit him for his future career
whatever direction it may take; though I say that every
artist should so study as to enable him to treat the highest
class of subjects, so that when he has acquired this
power he may choose those themes for treatment to
which his natural tastes and instincts may guide him, I
say also that there is a higher object in view, which is
the cultivation of his taste for these higher forms of art.
It is the absence of knowledge, and therefore of the power
of choice, which limits the development of the artist's
talents and leads to so rauch that is vulgar and common
place in our modem schools of painting.
Doubtless the first object to which the student has to
apply himself is to gain accuracy — accuracy of hand and

igS LECTURES ON ART.
eye. He must in fact have the power of drawing correctly
what he has before him. Superficially one would say
that that is all he has to learn, that if he can draw accu
rately he may be said to draw well, and if we take accu
racy in its most extended sense, that is not far from the
truth; but in its most extended sense one raay say that
no one ever learns to draw accurately ; taken in the ordi
nary sense, that the drawing shall be neat, and show no
faults, although an absolute necessity in drawing, it does
not go very far. A drawing though accurate enough raay
show no feeling for the character of the figure — that is to
say, the accuracy may be merely mechanical. This kind
of correctness may be gained at the cost of a great and
unnecessary expenditure of time ; constant correction of an
inaccurate beginning may get a drawing right in the end,
and in order to train the eye to be accurate, these correc
tions doubtless have to be made. It is far from sufficient,
however, that a student should be able to get his drawing
right in the end; unless he acquires the habit of getting
it right at once, his accuracy will be of little use to him ;
it is certainty and celerity that he has to aim at ; he can
never seize the character of his subject without this habit
of certainty, however long a tirae he raay spend over his
work ; and unless he combines celerity with certainty, how
is he to catch the passing movement, or the passing effect ?
I have no intention now of going again into the question of

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 199
the customary art training of students in this country ; I
have given my opinion on this point frequently, both here
and elsewhere, and it is by this time a stale subject ; it will
be sufficient, if my view of the results of this training be ac
curate, to show how deeply it affects the art of the country.
If, as I am sure is the case, the results are to make the
student content to attain no more than a tolerable amount
of accuracy in the long run, without his ever acquiring
the habit of drawing quickly, and with certainty, the tame-
ness of our art productions is easUy accounted for. To
repeat again my reasons for allowing a limited time for
studies from the living model in these schools would be
wearisome. I may put them concisely by saying that it is
with a view to the students acquiring these two qualities
of swiftness and certainty. But for this purpose I must
have the co-operation of the students themselves. The
student who is not possessed with the necessary enthu
siasm for his work will merely make the limit of time an
excuse for not finishing his study, or doing it carelessly.
A master I had in Paris never allowed his pupils to rab
out. I think it possible to carry this system too far ; it is
apt to discourage the student, and may possibly lead to
the dangerous habit of leaving beginnings unfinished, but
the principle is right. All work should be done with a
view to its being final; the touch or the line put on
should be intended to remain. This is why I view with

200 LECTURES ON ART,
disfavour the use of the ink-eraser in drawing ; the
knowledge that any mistake made can be corrected,
or any amount of careless work cleaned up has a great
tendency to produce not only a slovenly execution, but
the want of that directness which is the essential
element of a fine style in drawing.^ Drawing, indeed,
requires the constant and unwearying exercise of the
mental faculties of comparison and memory. Without
this it becoraes a mere mechanical proceeding, and useless
for any ulterior purpose. But we have another end to look
to in the study of the figure, not less important to the
ultimate results of a student's career, than those already
mentioned ; that is, the knowledge of the figure and the
habit of drawing it. A knowledge of the figure, I mean,
which is independent of the knowledge of the construc
tion of the figure to be acquired through anatomical study ;
what we raay rather call the habit of drawing the figure,
which is only acquired by constant practice in drawing it.
We wish the hand to fall to a certain extent mechanically,
and of its own will into the representation of the human
form. The importance of this habit, and the hold it acquires
^ The modern tendency towards loading water-colour drawings with
white in order to conceal or correct bad work has precisely the same
effect. Compare, for instance, the disagreeable quality in the un
doubtedly clever work of the late Mr. Pinwell and his followers, with
the beautifully luminous and simple effect produced by the direct work
of our best early water-colour artists.

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 201
upon the hand and the mind is seen at once in the attempt
to draw a figure in an unaccustomed position or view ; it
requires a fresh mental effort, and my own experience shows
me that the first attempt is rarely successful. The consider
ation of this point indeed supplies a fresh argument in
favour of constant study frora the living model, as against
drawing too much frora the antique. The ancient statues
that remain to us are so few that the student cannot acquire
through the study of them that familiarity with the various
positions of the figure which is essential to facility in
drawing it ; for we must remember that that is the object
to be kept in view — facility, through constant practice, in
drawing the figure in whatever position. I do not con
sider that it is so much the difficulties inherent in fore
shortening that make an unfamiliar position harder to
draw ; it is more the want of habit. One of the objects
of study in the Life-school is therefore to familiarise the
student with as many positions of the figure as can be
given under the circumstances. In a life-school, where
the model has to sit for a length of time in one position,
the varieties, of pose are, however, necessarUy limited ; but
within the range of what a raodel can keep there is variety
enough ; certain fore-shortenings therefore become familiar,
such as the fore-shortening of the thighs in a sitting posi
tion, and of the upper and fore-arm in various actions, also
sorae fore-shortenings of the back and front of the torso,

202 LECTURES ON ART.
and the fact that a practised student generally renders these
as well as the ordinary full and profile views of the body or
limbs, makes me hold this opinion that it is not so much
the fore-shortening that is difficult as the drawing of the
body in an unaccustomed position. The habit, therefore,
of drawing the figure in a great number of positions as
varied as possible is one of the advantages to be gained
in a lengthened course of study from the hfe, though a
complete knowledge of the figure is only to be gained by
the study of a life time.
We have come then to this point, that the object of
studying the figure is to be able to draw it with facility
in whatever position we require for our purpose ; but
supposing our subject demands the figure in such a
position that no model can keep it for more than a few
minutes together, how can we possibly execute our inten
tion unless we have acquired that habit of the figure
which comes from knowledge of its various aspects,
backed up by that certainty and swiftness in seizing
with accuracy on the characteristics of the movement
which I have put forward as the principal objects of the
technical part of a student's education ? This being
established, it is not hard to understand the reason of the
tame and wearisome choice of subjects which inundate our
exhibition walls, or the monotonous repetition of the same
ideas. If an artist has not this command of his powers

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 203
in respect of drawing the figure — and I do not see how
with the limited education or ambition that most
students allow themselves they can be in possession of
it — it is obvious that his subject raust be chosen with a
view to what the raodel or the lay-figure can give him
with the least effort on his own part to represent it. I
raust not be understood to require that all subjects
should treat of violent scenes and actions, but I do
require that a figure should be raade to live; it is to
represent the life that is in us that should be the
highest aira of the painter. In the treatraent of modern
or mediaeval or classic subjects this quality is alike
necessary; in the slightest moveraent of a figure a fold
of a dress changes its position ; a movement through
the air giving grace and undulation to its folds, which
raust be observed in passing, the momentary turn of a
head, which cannot be retained in its freshness by a
model, these are what give life to a figure, and must
be arrested or they wUl be lost, and the picture will
be dead. Look through the whole range of the works
of the great masters, you will find the .representation of
life and movement as the one g-reat characteristic which
rans through them all ; look round the walls of our ex
hibitions, and how many pictures wUl you find in which
the action of the figures goes beyond that of the lay-
figure? A small percentage contributed by some half-

204 LECTURES ON ART,
dozen artists whose soul is really in their art. If you
want to see this characteristic in its perfection, look at
this copy of Raphael's Incendio^ and see the moveraent
and the life and the nature that runs through it. I
care not for the mannerism that is complained of in the
somewhat cumbrous drawing of the limbs, which became
a characteristic of Raphael's later work. The grand
figure of the woman with the water-pot who is stalking
through the gate to assist in extinguishing the flames is
so alive you may almost hear her shout, and her drapery
seems absolutely moving ; the half-dressed woraan drag
ging her petticoats behind her, the chUdren, the group
of frightened women in the centre, the raan dropping
from the wall, the son carrying his father on his
back, all are instinct with life ; the intention of every
movement is unmistakable at the first glance. We have
no right with our puny efforts to criticise such a work ; ^
' A full-sized copy of the Incendio del Borgo, which hangs in the
Life-School at University College.
2 With regard to the front of the house being open, or rather re
moved, as in a scene on the stage, which superficial observers always
seize hold of as a fault, it is obvious enough that Raphael might have
closed it if he pleased, and that he did not so treat it without consider
ation. The wall over which the man is climbing must be considered as
the symbol of the wall i.f a house, a perfectly legitimate artifice in a work,
meant, as I have explained, to be typical and decorative. The inten
tion, clearly, is to introduce an additional element of interest by showing
the interior of the house in flames, from which the man is escaping.

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 205
compared to our modem achievements it is the work of
a giant. Nor is there any reason to suppose that its
great author had more than a mortal allowance of genius ;
he leans on the support of a greater man than him
self, and without inspiration from him he would in all
probability have never acquired his highest style. His
first works are comparatively feeble, far different from
those of Michelangelo, the Titan who, in FuseU's words,
"as an artist had no infancy.'' This picture is therefore
an admirable instance of what may be acquired by a con
tinuous and determined study of the figure : something
of what is here achieved is open to us all — something of
it, I say, guardedly — I mean that portion of it which
consists in the just representation of living action. The
grace and beauty of design, and that ineffable charm of
figure and face which characterise Raphael's works
above those of all men, these are inherent in the genius
of the artist, and unless we possess them, we may strive
for them in vain. We may imitate them, but we cannot
equal them ; but some of what he acquired by raere
force of study we also ought to be able to gain. A case
in point, or special instance of the necessity for that
directness of work on which I bave laid the great stress
in this paper, is afforded by the group I have alluded
to of the son carrying away his father from the burning
house, a group beautifully suggested by Virgil's account

2o6 LECTURES ON ART,
of .iEneas saving his father Anchises from the flames of
Troy. The study for this group remains to us, and I
have acquired the photograph of it, as well as of the
figure of the woraan on the right, for our library. It is
not to be supposed that the models which sat for this
study could have held their position for long -together ;
it is no trifling matter for one man to hold another
fuU-grown one on his back and remain still, nor do
two models sitting together ever remain long in position,
or find it again when it is once lost ; but you vrill see
that, in spite of these difficulties, the directness and
boldness of this drawing is only equalled by its finish
and accuracy. There is no hesitation about it ; no
jotting down of notes at the side of variation in the
position; the whole is complete — heads, hands, and feet
equally studied — and everywhere the important points
dwelt on. Winckelman's remark that " Raphael's hand
was prompt to execute the conceptions of his imagina
tion," pithily expresses this faculty ; nay, more, it sug
gests this further extension of the powers of drawing,
that the hand that has gained the power of expressing
swiftly and with certainty the object that is before the
eye, gains also the power of expressing what exists only
in the raind's eye — I mean the promptings of the inven
tion and imagination.
I must, however, here, in as few words as possUUe,

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 207
guard a point which arises in the discussion of this
subject. There is a fear of my being misunderstood
to mean, that to be able to sketch well and rapidly is
the faculty whose .value I wish to impress on you.
Facility of sketching, as it is generaUy understood, is
far from expressing the power of drawing I mean. Many
people have it by nature. What I wish to point out
in such drawings as the one I have referred you to is
the amazing accuracy and finish of the work; they have
evidently been used as studies to paint from without
the necessity for any further studies of detail. I have
not had the opportunity of comparing the drawing
I have spoken of above with the group in the picture,
as I have only within the last few days seen it and
obtained it for the Library, but I have no doubt it will
be found to correspond closely to the picture, and
to have had no further alteration made in it than the
addition of a certain fulness and roundness in the
limbs ; that subordination of detail being also kept
in raind which I irapressed on you as the characteristic
of all great works, and which is here necessary to elevate
the group from a study of individual peculiarities to its
place as a type required by the elevated nature of the
subject. For in criticising a work of this kind, or aU
monumental work, it must be remembered that we are
looking not at a mere accidental representation of a

2o8 LECTURES ON ART.
fact, but at a typical representation. The figures and
incidents are each of a representative kind, and are as
far as possible selected so as to produce the utmost
amount of effect. The individual peculiarities of the model,
therefore, would be of no value, and would distract from
the attention to be devoted to the monumental nature
of the work. But the expression of the incident must
be caught from nature, and it is this that requires the
power of seizing the characteristic points. There is a
drawing, however, not of Raphael's, but of Michel
angelo's, which I have been able to compare with the
original. I know nothing more remarkable than the
exactness with which the study for the drapery of the
Libyan Sibyl is reproduced in the fresco on the ceiUng.
At first sight it may not appear remarkable that Michel
angelo should have been able to copy exactly a study
of drapery of his own doing. But we must look at the
matter in another way. It is not the copying of the
study which is difficult, it is making the study for such
an action so perfectly and absolutely true and correct
that it requires no alteration. I have compared studies
of draperies by Raphael with the pictures, and have always
found that some alteration has been made, either towards
conventionalising the forms, or to make them suit more
accurately to the moveraent of the figure. The fact is,
that to raake a study of drapery involves a double diffi-

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 209
culty ; it must be correct in itself, and the form beneath
must be expressed correctiy. When a figure is repre
sented in an attitude of repose this is a comparatively
simple matter, but the moment that action is introduced
the difficulty becomes very great. The mere facility of
sketching which comes by nature wUl obviously be of no
use to the artist here. Nothing will help him but the
certainty of eye and knowledge of form, which comes
through practice.
If, then, I have explained myself clearly, my meaning
will by this tirae be understood when I say that the object
of the study of the figure is, by acquiring the habit of
drawing accurately, swiftly, and with certainty its various
aspects and characteristics, to give the widest possible
scope to the artist's powers ; and that without this habit,
although a natural taste raay enable him to give charm
and grace to his subjects, his efforts cannot but be limited
to a lower order of art, and a monotonous repetition of
ideas. These habits will give the wings to the artist's
imagination, without which there is no sustained flight.
Unless, however, the genius of the artist be such that he
can, like Michelangelo, dispense with the accessories to his
pictures, and make the interest depend on the figures alone,
there are other objects of study which have to be taken
into consideration. His pictures wUl be empty of interest,
not by choice, but from want of range in his ideas. The
p

2IO LECTURES ON ART,
modern popular conception of an artist indeed, seems not
to require much more than that he should be able to ring
the changes on some one limited theme. Thus we have
some artists who devote their lives to birds' nests, others
take a fancy to rustic subjects, another is celebrated for
his moonlight scenes, others make a fortune out of sun
sets, and so on ; and that, not because a special genius
impels them in those directions, but because they consent
to the opinion of the public, that it is sufficient to have
a trick of doing one thing passably well. It is worth
while to compare these aspirations with the idea of an
artist of the Middle Ages and Renaissance in Italy, when
he was frequently not only painter, but sculptor and
architect, and not seldom more besides. We need not
do more than refer to the great naraes of Lionardo,
Raphael, and Michelangelo ; with Lionardo, the most
universal genius the world ever saw, painting, which he
brought to an inconceivable perfection, was only one of
many pursuits ; indeed, he may be said to have been
rather an engineer who painted, than a painter by pro
fession, to say nothing of the other arts he practised.
Raphael, who was a painter, was architect of St. Peter's
for raany years after the death of Braraante, and to a
limited extent he practised sculpture ; Michelangelo is well
known in his fourfold character of painter, sculptor, archi
tect, and poet. But we find also that Giotto, who revived

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 211
the art of painting, was equally great as an architect ;
the CarapanUe he built for the Cathedral of Florence
is one of the most beautiful buUdings in the world,
and Vasari teUs us of other works executed by hira.
Orgagna, whose frescoes in the Campo Santo at Pisa
and in other places place him on the highest level as a
painter, both as architect and sculptor has left two of
the most beautiful works in Florence, the Loggia de'
Lanzi, and the Tabernacle in the church of Orsam-
michele. Andrea Verocchio, the master of Lionardo da
Vinci, is announced by Vasari as goldsmith, raaster in
perspective, sculptor, carver in wood, painter, and musi
cian; he ceased, however, to paint on recognising the
extraordinary powers of his pupil, and though Vasari
says that he had a soraewhat hard and crude raanner
in sculpture, the faraous statue of Bartolommeo CoUeoni
at Venice, would seem to give the lie to this opinion,
for in life and energy, as well as in workmanship, it raay
be said to be unsurpassed.
The list of those artists who corabined two or three arts
raight be greatiy extended, but a brief notice of one of
the great men of that period, whose powers appear to me
particularly enviable, wUl give a better notion of the nature
of an Italian artist of the Renaissance than any list of
names. Baldassare Peruzzi, appears to have been excep
tionally gifted among even the artists of those times;
p 2

212 LECTURES ON ART.
a contemporary of Raphael, born two years earlier, and
outiiving him by sixteen years, he never rose to so high
a position ; it is his life even more than the greatness or
variety of his gifts which one is inclined to envy. Brought
up at his own wish as a painter at Siena, he soon gave
evidence of such talent that he was entrusted with important
comraissions at Rome, making acquaintance by this means
with one of the great Roman patrons of art, Agostino
Chigi, the same for whom Raphael painted a chapel in
Santa Maria del Popolo. Baldassare found leisure to
devote himself to the study of architecture; from this
time he seems to have had almost the happiest lot that
one can iiiiagine falling to an artist, that of building palaces
and decorating them with his own hand. He began -with
the celebrated Farnesina Palace for Agostino Chigi, one
of the most justly celebrated in Rome for its beauty.
Vasari says, " This should be rather described as a thing
born, than as one merely built." This he decorated with
figure-pictures, the stories of Medusa, and covered with
decorations in imitation relief so admirably executed, that
the great Titian hiraself was deceived by them, and re
mained in astonishment when he was persuaded that they
were not real. He then executed many more paintings
enumerated by Vasari, and sorae temporary decorations,
including scenes for a theatre, which seem to have been
quite wonderful as illusion and for fertUity of invention.

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 213
He then executes the portico of a house, and does various
other paintings, decorative and pictorial. He next makes
the design for the organ in a church at Siena. Being
caUed to Bologna, he makes designs in two different styles^
Italian and Gothic, for the fagade of San Petronio, builds
certain houses there, paints a great chiaroscuro picture of
the Adoration of the Magi, and designs the portal of San
Michele in Bosco, which may be seen there to the present
day ; he also began another church, but was recalled to
Siena to design the fortifications of that city, which
having done, he returned once more to Rome, where he
builds various houses, and, on the death of Raphael, is
appointed architect to St. Peter's, his designs for which
were so much admired that succeeding architects availed
theraselves of parts of them, including, I presume, as
it is Vasari who says this, the great Michelangelo
hiraself. After executing in Rome numerous other works, including
another scene for a theatre which excited much admiration,
he is taken prisioner at the Sack of Rome by the Spaniards,
but escapes after having painted the portrait of Constable
de Bourbon after death. The last work, and not the
least beautiful or iraportant, that he executed before
his death was the celebrated Palazzo Massimi, which,
like the Farnese, he entirely decorated with paintings.
This palace is justly considered one of the raost

214 LECTURES ON ART.
beautiful and ingeniously constructed in Rome,' I put
the life of this artist briefly before you to show you the
enormous gap that exists between such a man and our
modern idea of an artist ; I do not refer to individuals,
for among the few raen I have raentioned as being the
only glory of our English school, we may find one at least
who in the variety of his talents, and the perfection to
which he brings thera, may be said to emulate the painters
of the great Italian period.
At the present day there is doubtless not so rauch
need for an artist being able to practise two or more
arts, the various professions being more separated ; many
painters in Italy moreover, probably the majority, did
nothing but paint. But you will not find any of what
ever school that did not understand the artistic side of
architecture, even if they did not practise it as a
science. All their pictures give evidence of this fact,
from the time of Giotto to the decadence of the art ; look
through every school from the Florentine to the Vene
tian, and you will not find one who cannot place his figures
in architectural surroundings, not only correctly drawn,
but entirely designed and invented by themselves with
all their beautiful and appropriate decorations, full some-
^ See Suys and Haudebourt's work on the Palazzo Massimi, published
in Paris, 1818. Lomazzo says that the sight of this palace gave him as
much pleasure as that of a picture by Raphael.

OBJECTS OF STUDY. 215
times of the most ingenious inventions and original
imagination. From the elegant Gothic Baldacchinos
in which the early Florentines enshrined their Madonnas,
to the gorgeous colonnades with which Paul Veronese
enriched not always appropriately his antique and
biblical subjects, all show evidence of a complete and
thorough understanding of the art of architecture. And
when we think of what infinite value architecture is
in the composition of figures, it seems a shame that
all painters should not possess a sufficient knowledge
of it to draw it at least correctly, even if they do
not aspire to designing it for themselves; as it is, I
doubt if there be half-a-dozen figure-painters in England
at the present time who could introduce correctly a
background of Classic or Gothic architecture into
their pictures, much less design one. Therefore, I
intend to m.ake this an important object of study
in this school, and the subjects I give for composi
tion will be generally designed with a view to practice
in this art. I cannot indeed imagine a better preparation
for a student of painting than that he should have been in
an architect's office. Turner was apprenticed to an archi
tect to begin with, and it is easy to see what the world would
have lost, had not his profound knowledge of architecture
helped him to buUd up those magnificent compositions which
he calls Carthage and Rome, which, whatever their faults in

2i6 LECTURES ON ART.
painting and colour, are unequalled for the effect they
have on the ira agination. The lectures of the architectural
professor are avaUable for all the students, and they cannot
do better than attend them. I myself shall also, as far as I
ara able, give assistance to the students in the simpler and
more leading rules of classic architecture in my Friday
lectures. Akin to this study, and a necessary addition
to it, is the study of Perspective. A course of lec
tures on this subject wiU therefore be open free to all
students who attend the general course for the whole
session. It will proceed regularly from the elements of
geometrical drawing, that is, the proper use of the rule
and compass and square in drawing geometrical figures,
through the simpler to the higher forms of Perspective.
It is impossible that any course of instruction can
make" artists of those who are deficient in talent or
industry, but my whole endeavour is devoted to making
that course the best I am capable of devising, and if I
afford the opportunities to even a few of my students to
make the best of their talents, or if in the course of
placing before them the objects of study to-day I have
stirred their ambition, I shall have done much towards
achieving ray intentions in the conduct of this school,
and in writing this paper.

LECTURE IX.^
PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO.
The following lecture might perhaps never have been
written, but for a remark in a criticism on one of my own
pictures in Mr. Ruskin's Academy Notes for 1875. I am
not ashamed to confess this ; I am not over-sensitive,
and Mr. Ruskin is welcorae to criticise ray work as severely
as he pleases ; no one is raore aware of its shortcomings
than I am rayself, and compared to some of the exhibitors
of that year I am let off very easUy ; for his remarks are
fair enough, with the exception alluded to above ; and
to fair criticism I have no objection, only the more flippant
sorts giving me even a passing feeling of annoyance ;
foolish . perhaps, on my part, but unavoidable when the
serious work of months is contemptuously dismissed in
an epigrammatic paragraph by the ordinary newspaper
ignoramus.^ ^ Given at the opening of the fifth session of the Slade School,
October, 1875,
* '-"Voila les gens qui nous jugent, qui nous insultent  Sans
avoir rien appris, rien vu, impudents et ignorants" , . " I'.ous qui

2i8 LECTURES ON ART.
But the passage in question introduces a name which,
as ray readers must by this time have discovered, I (and
I am not singular in this) hold in more than ordinaiy
reverence; — for Mr. Ruskin to speak of Michelangelo's
object in his work being to show us the adaptability of
limbs to awkward positions ^ indicates a depth of ignorance
on his part, wilful or unconscious, that could not be

avons travaille trente ans, etudie, compare, qui amvons devant le
public avec une ceuvre qui, si elle n'est pas parfaite, mon Dieu ! je le
sais bien, est au moins honnete, conscientieuse, faite avec le respect
qu'on doit avoir de I'art." Thus Ingres on critics in general in his
righteous anger at some unconsidered criticisms ou Raphael by no less a
person than M. Thiers, who set upas an art-critic. (V Atelier d' Ingres,
by Amaury Duval.) As a rule English art-critics start on their career
by criticising the Exhibitions, and trust to time and chance hints for
learning something about art. One of these gentlemen, who writes in a
leading paper, unfortunately tried his "prentice hand" on the Exhi
bition of Old Master Drawings at the Grosvenor Gallery last winter
(1879) ; and in making his selection for special praise and (if I remem
ber right) for only mention among the drawings of Michelangelo, chose
not only the two which were undoubtedly not genuine, but despising the
warning in the Catalogue that one of them was a copy, committed him
self to saying that the owner was mistaken in not ascribing it to the
Master ; — the original being all the time in the Academy Exhibition, and
nothing less than the celebrated " Arcieri" or Archers, from Windsor,
perhaps the best known of Michelangelo's dratrings. I may add that
to any but an ignoramus, there was no possible mistake as to the copy
being a copy, though a very good one. " Voila les gens," &c.
1 " Of course Mr. Poynter's object is to show us, like Michelangelo,
the adaptability of limbs to awkward positions." — Academy Notes for
1875, p. 16.

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 219
passed over; and its immediate effect was to induce me
to read his lecture on Michelangelo and Tintoret, hitherto
avoided by me, as, from what I had been told of it, a
probable cause of vexation and annoyance. Truly it
made me burn with indignation, and, the fire kindling,
I felt impelled to point out the glaring perversions which
Mr. Ruskin's curious spite against this greatest of artists
allowed him to introduce into its pages ; and not only
this, but I felt it necessary to explain to my students,
likely to be misled by his special pleading, the general
blindness to the higher qualities of art, which is observable
not only in this pamphlet, but in all Mr. Ruskin's later
writings, and which is the necessary result of his want
of observation of the highest form of natural beauty,
and of his ignorance of the practical side of art.
In a previous lecture I have given Mr. Ruskin full
credit for the exalted and beautiful spirit which pervades
'his writings on art, and although I fully suspected and
even hinted that the result of his teaching might easily
be to supplant, by a canting affectation of nature-worship,
the direct and healthy study which the nobler forms of
art require from a young student, I contented rayself
with showing^ that the opinions which form the base of

1 See ante, pp. 78 ei seq. ; " I only say it is beside the question, and
may easily lead to false conclusions in art. It is not that I hold the

220 LECTURES ON ART.
his beautiful theories lie outside the dominion of art;
and in ray respect for his exalted views, his unrivalled
power of poetic description, his equally unrivalled
erudition, and his knowledge and love of natural history,
forbore to press home the mischievous, I may almost
say the deadening effect, • that such theories must have
on minds not masculine enough to be independent. I
could hardly, indeed, anticipate that Mr. Ruskin's theories
would lead hira to such a display of acrimony against
the painters who have been generally accepted as holding
the highest place in the world of art ; but consideration
should have made me understand that this is the only
logical conclusion to be deduced from his writings ; for
Mr. Ruskin has so consistently elevated the moral and
sentimental side of art over the aesthetic, that we are
tempted to suspect him of never having had any per
ception of beauty in art, as distinguished from beauty in
nature ; and we may search his later writings in vain for
any appreciation of beauty of form or colour. Beautiful
colour with him seems synonymous with bright colour,
or what he would call pure colour, as typical of purity ;
where he once thought he saw fine colour in Titian he
has since strenuously denied it ; and his keen admiration

error to lie,'' &c. And in the next paragraph, " I can indeed conceive
of no writing, " &c.

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 221
of Turner's later work, which is full of crude contrasts
of coarse colour, shows that his appreciation of Bellini's
exquisite tones must be a mere accident. Of beauty of
form he seems to have no perception whatever; as for
the great artistic qualities, design and harraohy, if he
has ever taken them into consideration, or has ever
seen thera at all, he has long ago set them aside as
valueless. In his first splendid volume even he is appar
ently blind to those higher beauties in nature which go
to the raaking of good landscape art. The deficiency of
Claude's imagination shown in the incongruous materials
of which many of his pictures are madd up he is careful
to point out ; but this has raade him pass over as of
secondary importance the far higher and raore subtle
imaginative power which enabled Claude to see and to
render every phase of the limpid purity of the sky, and
the tenderest gradations of luminous atmospheric effect;
and you have only to ask yourself what Claude would
have been if he had been wanting in this faculty, to
understand that the utraost ingenuity in the arrangement
and invention of material, and the utmost attention to
" earnest work '' in detail, would never have raade him
the great master of landscape that he was. That he is
untme to facts is obvious; how true he is to nature
it requires taste and education to perceive.
These deficiencies of perception are the trae cause of

222 LECTURES ON ART.
his want of appreciation of the distinguishing qualities
which make Raphael and Michelangelo what they are;
and from this point it is only a step downwards to
ascribe to them the baseness of intention in their art
which is the running accompaniment to all the strictures
in his pamphlet. Perhaps I have above (inadvertently)
hit on the key-note of his exceptional invective in the
case of these two painters, in speaking of them as
"generally accepted" as holding the highest rank. I
spoke of Mr. Ruskin in ray lecture at the Royal
Institution 1 as the prophet of a new religion, and this
is true in a wider sense than I at the tirae intended ;
he is not only its prophet but its high-priest. He has
the genuine priestly intolerance of independent judgment:
partial admission of his doctrine he will not endure ; you
must accept it in its entirety, or you are of the enemy ;
he allows of no independence of opinion gained from
experience. That anything should be generaUy accepted
that he has not propounded or asserted to be tme is in
his eyes the unpardonable sin. Hence the comparison
between Michelangelo and Tintoret; Mr. Ruskin invented
Tintoret in his Modern Painters^ whereas Michelangelo
and Raphael are accepted masters about whom others
'See ante, p. 76.
^ In those enchanting chapters on the Imaginative Faculty at the end
of the second volume.

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 223
have ventured to write; and one is irresistibly tempted
to believe that for this reason they are disparaged to
Tintoret's advantage. "Nearly every existing work by
Michelangelo,'" for instance, "is an attempt to execute
something beyond his powers, coupled with a feverish
desire that his power may be acknowledged." Now
see on the next page the delicate distinction — Tin
toret is "content to fall short of his ideal." ^ Michel
angelo, that is to say, aimed higher than he could
achieve ; Tintoret fell short of achieving what he aimed
at. It is useless to waste words on such puerile dis
tinctions. See again, in the same lecture, the amusing
paragraph on oil-painting. Mr. Ruskin is here not
content with boldly contradicting the well-known remark
of Michelangelo that oil-painting is "proper only for
women, or idle persons like Fra Sebastiano,'' by " raaking
the positive statement to you that oil-painting is the art
of arts " ; ^ but even adds in a note, in the authoritative
' Michelangelo and Tintoret, p. 18.
^ Ibidem, p. 19, and ^ain on the same page. " Both Raphael and
Michelangelo are always in dramatic attitudes, and always appealing to
the public for praise.''
^ Michelangelo and Tintoret, p. 25. It is highly characteri- tic that
Mr. Ruskin should have omitted all but the first part of this well-
known and often-quoted apothegm ; and it may be as well to point out
that the remark was rather intended as a sarcasm on Sebastian del
Piombo's laziness than as the sweeping disparagement of oil-painting
which Mr. Ruskin pretends it to be ; the nature of oil-painting allowing

224 LECTURES ON ART.
tone in which he generally administers the mental pap,
of which (in unhappy contrast, alas ! to his fomier
splendid style) so much of his later writing consists, " I
beg that this statement may be observed with attention.
It is of great importance." There could hardly be a
more ludicrous instance of Mr. Ruskin's self-assertion
in the character of a high-priest whose ex cathedrcL utter
ances are to be taken in faith ; for it is certain that, as
far as experience is a qualification, his opinion as to the
comparative merits of fresco and oil-painting is absolutely
valueless. That he has implicit faith in the docility of
his audience is clear ; he must be well assured that his
disciples will never venture on inquiry for theraselves,
or he would hardly dare to make the childish assertion
that Michelangelo "bandaged the heads" of his figures,
as " a cheap means of getting over a difficulty too great for
his patience"; the difficulty being the rendering of the hair !
the work to be dropped and taken up again at will, and so making it
suitable for women (who may be supposed to be liable to interruption
from other occupations) and for idle persons ; fresco-painting on the
other hand requiring continuous and concentrated effort, on account of
the limited time during which the plaster remains in fit condition to be
worked on, after which it can never be touched again, — except by a
different process which takes from its special character. See
Duppa's Life of Michelangelo, p. 209. Mr. Ruskin proceeds to point out
that Michelangelo said this " because he had neither the skill to lay a
single touch of good oil- painting, nor the patience to overcome its
elementary difficulty. ''

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO, 225
But I have, perhaps, said enough by way of preface
to the foUowing lecture ; it is questionable, indeed, whether
It was worth while to say so much, when those who care
to read Mr. Ruskin's pamphlet can judge for themselves
whether I exaggerate in pointing out the glaring per
versions of reasoning which arise from the strange
animus pervading it, an animus which it will be charity
to put down to the " lunacies of his declining years." ^

In a lecture on the relation between Michelangelo and
Tintoret, delivered at Oxford in 1872, Mr. Ruskin put
forward views on the subject of the former artist, which were,
to say the least of it, in startling contrast to those which
he had previously expressed, especiaUy in the second
volume of Modern Painters.''' In the remarks which follow,
I have no intention of offering a detailed criticism on what
Mr. Ruskin has said, but only of correcting, as far as in
me lies, certain of the more glaring errors into which his
present animosity against Michelangelo has led him. An
instance of what I mean occurs in the passage in which
he says that " you are accustomed to think the figures of
Michelangelo sublime, because they are dark, and colossal,
1 Academy Notes ior 1875, p. 11.
' The reader will find Mr. Ruskin's ' original opinion regarding
Michelangelo given in full at the end of this lecture. 0

226 LECTURES ON ART.
and involved, and mysterious." ^ Now any one at all
acquainted with the original frescoes of Michelangelo
knows that the work is never dark, unless where it has
been blackened by the smoke of candles, but that on the
contrary the whole tone of colour in his paintings is re
markably silvery and luminous. " Colossal " his figures
undoubtedly are, frequently in actual magnitude, and always
in style ; but this quality has not generally been considered
to interfere with sublimity. " Involved " appears to me
to have no special meaning as expressive of a figure, unless
it be applied to it as part of a group, when I should say
if this be a sin, it is one which cannot be avoided where a
multitude of figures are grouped together in action ; that
no one ever " involved " his figures with less sacrifice of
clearness than Michelangelo ; or if Mr. Ruskin is using
the word with a special meaning (and he does not gene
rally use words without one), and wishes to imply by it
that the figures are involved or entangled about them
selves and so unintelligible, I would answer that such
positions are rare, the action of Michelangelo's figures
being as a mle conspicuously direct and obvious ; and
that when they occur, they occur for a reason, as for
instance when he wishes to convey the impression of
struggling and confusion, as in the groups of lost spirits
fighting against the angels, who are beating them down
' See Mr. Ruskin's lecture on Michelangelo and Tintoret, p. 37.

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 227
to hell, in the right hand lower portion of the Last
Judgment. " Mysterious " again means nothing in this con
nection. The word might be appropriate to Rembrandt,
but never to Michelangelo, who was as precise in his
representations of form and expression as Bellini. '
Mr. Ruskin's curious animosity against Michelangelo
is worth illustrating by two other of his assertions ; first,
that that artist "understood fresco imperfectly;" and
second, that " his fresco is gone in every part of it." ^
The latter of these two remarks we all, and he as well
as any of us, know to be untrue ; though perhaps by
never allowing either himself or his own students to look
at Michelangelo's works to judge for theraselves, he may
persuade himself and them to believe it. The first
assertion, that Michelangelo understood fresco imperfectly,
(which, as a matter of fact, is only true in the most
limited sense, and with reference to his first attempt in
fresco,) would have been endorsed to a certain extent
by Michelangelo himself. On what ground did Braraante
persuade Pope Julius to employ Michelangelo on the
vault of the Sistine, but that he hoped to bring him to
shame through his inexperience in fresco, and so exalt his
kinsman Raphael over his head?^ and on what but the
' Michelangelo and Tintoret, p. 26. See also p. 16. All that he
did " on a large scale in colour is in the best qualities of it perished."
^ Condi-vi, Vita di M. Buonarotti, par. xxxiii., also Vasari's Life,
Q 2

228 LECTURES ON ART,
sarae ground did Michelangelo first refuse the work,'
and then give it up after he had completed about a third of
the painting ? ^ But Mr, Ruskin also accuses him of being a
bad workman in fresco : as to how far this is tme there
may be differences of opinion. Sraall portions of the
painting on the ceiling have faded, but how much of
this has occurred through imperfect knowledge of the
material, and how much from the penetration of damp
through the roof and walls, I am not aware ; he would
not in any case be much to blame if some of his work
had faded through his imperfect acquaintance with a
material, in which he was forced to experiment against
his will.
Large portions of the ciling are doubtless much covered
with small cracks ; chiefly in the neighbourhood of the
Temptation of Adam and. Eve and of the Deluge, the fisst
part of the work he attacked. This is due to some fault
m the plaster, difficult for an inexperienced hand to foresee ;
we find the second half of the fresco, however, very free
from these cracks ; the larger ones throughout are formed
by the slight settiement of the building, or perhaps by
the expansion and contraction of the roof under the heat
of the sun ; and some again may have been made by
the explosion in the Castie of Saint Angelo, which by
^ Condivi, " Scusandosi che non era sua arte, e che non riuscirebbe."
° See Vasari's Life of Michelanmlo.

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 229
shaking out a large mass of plaster destroyed one of the
figures above the Delphic Sibyl, In other respects the
ceiling of the Sistine is remarkable for the perfection of
its preservation. Most of it looks as if it were only just
finished, and of this I can speak from knowledge, having
drawn from it. Not so however with the painting of the
Last Judgment, which is much obscured and difficult to
see in places, but not through any faUure in the painting.
One or two small portions may show traces of fading or
scaling off; for example, some of the figures in the left
hand upper corner appear to be imperfect from this cause ;
but for this, without examination of the picture itself, it
is difficult to judge how far the painter is to blame. On
the other hand, this painting is almost entirely free from
cracks ; while for the damage it has suffered from the
smoke of candles, from iU-treatment in the middle part
where the Pope's canopy is placed against it, or from re
painting, even Mr. Ruskin would hardly impute blame to
Michelangelo. In any case to admit, or even to insist
on, these rare and trifling defects in preservation (even
supposing the fault to be Michelangelo's own), is a very
different thing to asserting that his fresco is defaced in
every part of it.
But the first on the list of Michelangelo's faults is
that he is a bad workman ; that is, I suppose, he tried to
do what he could not do, or could not do what he tried

230 LECTURES ON ART.
to do.i If on this point Mr. Ruskin is right, we must
differ entirely on the meaning of good work. If a com
bination of the most exquisite finish in drawing and
modelling, which allows the work ' to bear the closest
inspection in its detaUs, with the utmost simplicity, breadth,
and clearness of effect in a distant view, constitute, as I
believe they do, the elements of perfect work, I must assert
positively that Michelangelo is the raost perfect of workmen.
Examine the Last Judgment ; through all its multitude
of 'figures, frora the highest to the lowest point, and
into its extremest comers; and you wUl hardly find a
face, a hand, a foot, a limb, or the smallest portion of a
figure, no matter how difficult to execute, or how unim
portant in its place in the composition, which is not carried
to the highest point of raodelling. The expression of
every face, the moveraent of every finger, the subtle turns
of torso and limb, are as exact, as individual, and as
perfect in. beauty of form, in the thronging figures which
make up the crowd that stands beyond the principal
circle, as in the central forms of the saints and martyrs
crying out for salvation in the very face of Christ Himself ;
or as in those of the dead rising from the graves, which,
being the nearest to the eye, are necessarily carried as
far in finish as possible. On these points the photographs
from the Sistine frescoes, which are now well known to
' Michelangelo and Tintoret, p. l8.

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 231
all lovers of art, furnish a complete refutation of all that
Mr. Ruskin has written about thera. If I pursue the
exaraination of his remarks any further, it is not so much
to point out the evasions, or rather perversions, of the
real facts of the matter, into which he has been led by
his desire to depreciate Michelangelo, as to bring out
as prominently as I can what I consider the truth upon
the subject, in order that some raay in this way be led
to the study of the works themselves.
A detailed defence of the scheme of the Last Judgmerit
would be superfluous; ignorant people who attempt to
criticise such a work have what they might perhaps con
sider an opinion about it; but Mr, Ruskin is not ignorant ;
he has chosen, nevertheless, to put forward an opinion,
which, though arrived at by much apparent consideration,
is not far removed frora the raost ill-considered judg
ments that have been passed upon it. Or rather he has
had two opinions ; his first opinion having been given in
language which would lead one to infer that it is, if not
the mightiest, at any rate one of the mightiest, creations
of human intellect. But "we have changed all that." The
truth of the matter is, that to the art of the work Mr.
Ruskin' s eyes were never opened ; what he once admired
was the idea, and the impressive effect produced on the
raind by the imaginative power of the artist ; and this
led him to assign to its creator the great qualities which

232 LECTURES ON ART.
he now denies him. He now does not admire the idea,
and he thinks the impression produced is a false and
dangerous one, and therefore not only assigns to hira
every artistic crime, but even infers personal poverty of
character.! Having been ever blind to the art, he does not see
that this remains the sarae in spite of his own change of
views. He goes further; he not only denies that the art
is good, because he cannot see and never has seen it;
but he virtually and in principle denounces all art as it
has been hitherto understood from the beginning of the
world until now. He does not say : I mean one thing
by art and you another; he says: I will have no art; work
manship I allow and require, but not art of a higher kind.
Of the higher art, in fact, which studies nature, not for
' For instance, "He has a feverish desire that his power may be
acknowledged." " He is always in dramatic attitudes, and always
appealing to the public for praise." Michelangelo and' Tintoret, p. 19.
It is worth while to compare with this a note to a passage in vol. ii.
of the Moda-n Painters, wherein Mr. Ruskin sums up the imaginative
faculty. The passage runs thus : — " Sympathy it desires — but can do
without ; of opinions it is regardless, not in pride, but because it is
conscious of a rule of action and object of aim in which it cannot be
mistaken ; partly also in pure energy of desire, and longing to do and
to invent more and more, which suffer it not to suck the sweetness of
praise — unless a little with the end of the lod in its hand, and without
pausing in its march." And now the note.: — " That which we know of
the lives of Michelangelo and Tintoret is eminently illustrative of this
temper."

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGnLO. 233
the raere object of studying, but in order to know nature
for the sake of selecting what is good and rejecting what
is bad, Mr. Ruskin knows nothing, or at aU events
allows nothing. Such art, we are to believe, the great
painter is distinctly not to practise. Correggio is not to
see nature deliciously ; Raphael is not to see it grace-
fuUy ; Michelangelo is not to see it subhmely.^ This
assertion that the artist is to have no independence of
idea is continued throughout the lecture on Michelangelo
and Tintoret, and in the pamphlet on the Academy,
published in 1875.
In the former we find it dogmatically asserted that
the representation of inaction or continuous action, and
not of momentary action, is the attribute of good art ; ^
from which it follows that " the introduction of strong
or violently emotional incident is at once a confession
of inferiority.'' Therefore, Mr. Ruskin would continue,
although it must be allowed that it is not possible always
literally to observe these conditions, if an artist ventures
' " Holman Hunt was the first assertor in painting, as I believe I
myself was in art-literature," .... "that things should be painted
as they probably did look and happen, and not as by the rules of art
developed under Raphael, Correggio, and Michelangelo, they might be
supposed gracefully, deliciously, or sublimely to have happened."
— Academy Notes for 1875.
* "A continuous, not momentary action, — or entire inaction. You
are to be interested in the living creations ; not in what is happening to
them." — Michelangelo and Tintoret, ¦^. 15. Why not in both ?

234 LECTURES ON ART.
to represent the murderer of a saint perforraing his deed
in any but an impassive manner, in any way in fact but
as Bellini has painted the murder of Peter Martyr, in
the least successful part of one of the loveliest pictures
in the world,' he has at once confessed his inferiority.
The necessary conclusion from this would be that
Michelangelo is an inferior artist, not because he con
ceives his subjects in a way that is false to general nature
(the true definition, by the way, of a bad artist), but be
cause he does not take the view of the treatment which
Mr. Ruskin affirms to be the only view adraissible.
If Mr. Ruskin could speak his real raind about the
Last Judgment it would probably be something to
this effect : " I deny the right of Michelangelo not
only to treat the subject of the Last Judgment in a
way in which it does not appeal to me, but I deny his
right to treat the nude figure at all ; I have never cared
to study the nude figure, and have no perception or
appreciation of its beauty ; when I speak of the glory
of nature and of God's works, I exclude the human
figure both male and female, and refer you to
mossy rocks and birds'-nests, sunset skies, red herrings
^ "Bellini's treatment of violence you may see exemplified in a
notable way in St. Peter Martyr ; the soldier is indeed striking his
sword down into his breast, but in the face of the saint is only resigna
tion, and faintness of death, not pain ; — that of the executioner is
impassive." — Ibid. p. i6.

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICPIELANGELO. 235
by Hunt, robin redbreasts, anything you like, in fact,
but the figure for its beauty. If, therefore, an artist
paints the nude figure, it raust be because 'he delights
in the body for its own sake' (a terrible crime, truly),
' to exhibit the action of its skeleton and the contours
of its flesh ; ' " and as he affirms in the Academy Notes
(when he has had raore time to consider the degraded
motives of the unhappy Michelangelo), " to show the
adaptability of limbs to awkward positions."
Now there is not the slightest objection to the
admission that Michelangelo " delighted in the body
for its own sake ; " whether such an admission be made
on his behalf, or on that of Phidias and the whole
Greek school, the merit of whose works we must
remember Mr. Ruskin considers to be independent of
their beauty.^ In Mr. Ruskin's opinion, however, the
introduction of the human figure is only to be permitted
"in its subordination," which, as he explains it, means
the place it occupies among ascetic painters, and such
as knew not how to give it its proper, ranch less its
most beautiful, form and action.
^ " He (the Greek) rules over the arts to this day, and will for ever,
because ho .nought not first for beauty, not first for passion, or for inven
tion, but for Rightness," — Aratra Pentelici, par. 200, p. 198, and
tassim. All good art has sought for what Mr. Ruskin calls "Right
ness " ; the Greek of course excels by the completeness of his sense ot
beauty of form, and the unsurpassable perfection of execution.

236 LECTURES ON ART
The matter resolves itself then into the question. Is
it or is it not an artistic error or crime to give (in Mr.
Ruskin's words) action to a figure " to show its beauty " ?
I would just remark here in a parenthesis, that there
is a vast difference between this idea and that of giving
action "to show the adaptabihty of limbs to awkward
positions," the last accusation brought against Michel
angelo ;^'and in the same breath against myself, who
only humbly try to place my figures in the most likely
positions they would take under given conditions. But
is it wrong to give action to a figure to show its beauty ?
If the action is untrue to the idea which the artist wishes
to express by it, it is undoubtedly wrong. No amount
of admirable execution or perception of the beauty of
the figure, can possibly excuse disobedience to the
higher truths of expression. This is the first rule : the
action of a figure raust be true to itself. The neglect of
this rule, wilful or unconsidered, has been the cause of
all the odious mannerisms of the later Italian and French
schools ; the endeavour, generaUy very unsuccessful, to
give beauty and grace independently of nature, was the
cause of the decadence of high art in those schools from
the death of Raphael (it began long before the death
of Michelangelo) through more than two centuries, till
it reached its lowest depth in the affected inanities of
Boucher and other painters of the time of Loais XV.

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 237
Again, the action raust be true to the idea to be expressed
in the general composition or conception of the subject.
This rule I place second ; partly because many positions
may be equally expressive, so that no one can be said
to be truer than another ; partly because in some forms
of composition intended to be decorative, a certain
licence may b^ allowed; not indeed a licence of choosing
a position which is untrue, but of admitting one which
may not be the most probable under the circumstances.'
This freedom must however be used with caution, and
as a rule the most probable action is the one to be adopted.
These two points then being well considered, the third
condition, that which distinguishes the true artist from
the mere painter possessed of poetic conceptions, is that
the action of the figure shaU be expressed in- the raost
beautiful manner, and shall be studied so as to give the
artist an opportunity for the display of the highest beauty
of the form, whether it be nude or draped.
Now all these conditions Michelangelo fulfilled in a
higher degree than any artist that has lived since the
best Greek period. It is quite certain however that the
observance of these rules and conditions is not sufficient
to account for the individuality and superiority of his
genius. They are the conditions under which all great
^ As when the artist has to fill a decorative panel of unsuitable form,
which occasionally may happen.

238 LECTURES ON ART
painters work. No one can be called an artist of the
higher kind who does not clothe his ideas in a beautiful
form. The beauty of the idea is the common property
of the poet and the artist; the difference lies in the
method of treatraent, and it is quite possible for a painter
to have a most imaginative and poetical mind, without
possessing the power of giving beauty to his work.
For inexhaustible invention in the treatment of subjects,
combined with the raost intense dramatic power of forcing
the reality of scenes upon the spectator, no one ever
surpassed Albert Diirer. He had the faculty, perhaps in
a higher degree than any other artist, of bringing horae
to his own mind the very essence of the drama he is
representing. If he had actually seen the tragedies of the
Passion, and noted them on the spot, they could not have
been raade more real to us than as he has presented
them in the splendid series of drawings in the Albertina
Museum at Vienna ; ' although he uses none of the con
ventional means of raaking us feel the situation, either in
its terror, as in the Crucifixion, or in its pathos as in the
Entombment, or its ignominy as in the Ecce LTomo. He
rises very nearly even to the higher qualities of design
in the Deposition, and quite in the Flagellation ; while
as a workman in the lower but very necessary sphere
of complete and delicate execution, few have rivalled
' Photographed and published by the Autotype Company.

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 239
him. As a rule, however, his absolute want of perception
of beauty makes us feel that in the sense in which we
admire a third-rate Italian artist of the fifteenth century, we
have to reject Albert Diirer altogether. This is the mean
ing of Michelangelo's words with regard to hira and to
German art in generaL In a conversation with Vittoria
Colonna and others, he says, " You will find that he who
was only a pupil in Italy has produced more with regard to
genuine art than the master who is not from Italy, So
trae is this that Albert Diirer, even when wishing to deceive
us, could paint nothing in which I could not observe at
once that it neither carae frora Italy nor from an Italian
artist . , . , we feel at once the difference."
This difference that we feel at once is the want of
the sense of beauty. It has nothing to do with the want
of power to draw correctiy, for Mantegna was scarcely
more able to put his figures in right proportion
than Albert Diirer. This artist in wealth of imagina
tion, in dramatic power and ingenuity of invention,
corresponds very closely with Albert Diirer. He also had
a kindred love of dwelling on rainute detaU, and that
searching desire to develop and bring into evidence the
most unimportant accidents, which gives to his and to
Albert Diirer's draperies the sarae angular and broken
character. Yet in Mantegna's work we feel the sense of
beauty pervading it to the smaUest detail. In this very

240 LECTURES ON ART.
matter of draperies there is a light fluttering beauty in
Mantegna which is in the happiest contrast to the
ponderous clumsiness of Albert Diirer. In Mantegna
the draperies express, as if by instinct, the limbs and
movements. In Albert Diirer they weigh down the figures
with their cumbrous folds, and seem wherever possible
to contradict with an awkward contrariety their expression
and action. For beauty of action, too, Mantegna is unsur
passed, even araong Italian painters (witness the nymphs
dancing in the beautiful picture of Apollo and the
Muses in the Louvre), while Albert Diirer, vigorous as
the action of his figures is, never in his life put the
beauty of animation into his heavily moving persons.
This is the difference, and it is a most important one to
remember, between the complete artist and the man of
ideas who paints. Ideas we must have, and the power
of expressing thera we must have, in all work that is not
merely imitative ; but the art consists in clothing these
ideas in a beautiful forra. When we add to these con
ditions a profound and thorough knowledge of nature,
so as to add the poiver of expressing in perfection the
proraptings of a lofty imagination and instincts of beauty,
we have the highest of which art is capable. Ideas
and instincts of beauty we find in all the best Italian art,
but a complete' knowledge of nature only in one man.
This it is really which raises Michelangelo above all the

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 241
Other Italian artists ; and the reason why Michelangelo
learned the body " essentially from the corpse," and
studied its mechanism in death, was that he might have
the po'wer to express it living ; ^ not, as Mr. Ruskin
insists, for the mere sake of display.
The genius of Michelangelo consisted, first, in the gift
of concentrating his powers on the single ' important point
of expression, so that he had no need of accessories to help
him out with his story ; and next in something which is
higher than that, something which defies analysis, which
has been expressed as "Titanic" and "colossal," and
which Mr. Ruskin in his previous writings has described as
an " inexplicable power proceeding frora an iraaginative
perception almost superhuman which goes whither we
cannot follow." All this undoubtedly places him on the
solitary mountain height, where he reigns apart from and
above other mortals, but all this, be it remembered, must
have remained unexpressed but for the knowledge which
alone enabled him to express it. And more than this, too,
without something of that sarae knowledge in the student,
the highest qualities of Michelangelo's works must ever
remain a sealed book to him. Without being acquainted
^ " Michelangelo and Raphael drew the body from vanity and from
knowledge of it dead," — Michelangelo and Tintoret, p, 30, " Raphael
and Michelangelo learned it essentially from the corpse, and had no
delight in it whatever, but great pride in showing that they knew aU its
mechanism." — Ibidertt, p. 31. R

242 LECTURES ON ART,
by study with the capabUities for beauty, force, and activity
in the human figure, we can never know how absolutely
founded on nature, how true to nature in respects incon
ceivable to the mind untrained in this direction, is every
figure that Michelangelo ever produced. For this reason
the imagination displayed by Michelangelo in the art of
his work, quite a distinct matter from that displayed in the
treatraent of the subject, is beyond the apprehension of
those who have not made the human figure a subject of
practical study.
As far however as Michelangelo's genius is capable of
analysis, it is possible to point out wherein lies his marvel
lous power of impressing us ; the innate genius escapes us,
the calculated effects we raay discover. First among these
calculated effects comes the point to which all his study
and all his powers were directed, after considering the best
method of carrying out his conception of the subject ;
this was the endeavour (which Mr. Ruskin condemns) to
give the best action to his figures which should show their
beauty ; or, in simpler words, he desired, as other painters
desire, to express his idea by the most beautiful treatment.
As however he considered figures the highest means of
telling a story, and never condescended to help hiraself
out by other raeans, he treated all his subjects with figures
only, and his attention was concentrated on the most
beautiful form, action, and expression which he could give

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 243
to them. But on one point he never fails ; the thought
is never lost sight of, the idea is always paramount ; the
figure is never, as Mr. Ruskin pretends to think, posed
only for its beauty ; sorae natural and appropriate intention
is the basis of every figure he ever painted. In the series
of nude figures in the vault of the Sistine, which are purely
decorative as regards their introduction and position,
answering, as they do, to the figures of genu and angels
so common on Classic and Italian architectural friezes,
there is always, beyond the raere intention of beautiful
arrangement, some leading idea to be expressed. If the
figure is to express repose, it expresses it absolutely ; the
repose is deep and contemplative. In activity the figure is
full of life and youth and spirits ; in wearisome labour, it is
colossal in build, and struggles under the burden, thus
expressing the idea in the most forcible way. If fatigue
and pain are to be expressed, the head and body are those
of a beautiful youth, so that the feeling of pity is doubly
awakened. And here I would draw attention to the way
in which the face is always with Michelangelo the first idea.
So far frora neglecting the face for the body, as Mr, Ruskin
asserts, no one ever made the body answer so completely
to the expression of the face ; without the face the move
ments of the body I allow raay be raade unintelligible,
as in the preposterous engravings after Michelangelo
which, before the Sistine Chapel was photographed, were all
K 2

244 LECTURES ON ART,
the untravelled artist had to guide his appreciation ; but
the expression of the face explains everything. The
beauty of his faces may however be a matter of opinion ;
Mr, Ruskin says he never could help raaking them satyr
like ; and as an iUustration curiously adduces the Oxford
drawing. No, 9 in Mr, Robinson's Catalogue, a head
strongly expressive of pride and malevolence,^ the precise
contrary to everything we imagine as satyric; satanic is
perhaps the word he meant to use.
Upon this point of expression we observe a most
interesting change which took place during the progress of
the ceiling. At first the treatment of the figures is more
purely decorative, their expression and sentiment being how
ever always appropriate to the occasion, and the feeling
of real humanity, of thoughtfulness, combined with gentle
melanchol)', taking the place of the merely abstract expres
sionless form which had hitherto been considered sufficient
for such a purely decorative treatment. But this, although
it is the essence of the beauty with which the figures
impress us, is secondary to the idea of design and arrange
ment ; while as we advance the importance of the idea
increases, so that although they stUl are placed in pairs
and balance each other completely in line and mass, as
decorative figures should, the idea of representing some
tnood or passion gains ground and becomes the paramount
* Michelangelo and Tintoret, p. 33.

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 245
idea, the purely decorative intention taking in its turn a
subordinate place. This is the aim of Michelangelo in
these groups, and not, if I may be allowed to refer again
to Mr. Ruskin, the desire to show adaptability of limbs to
awkward positions ; no, not in these nor in any group or
figure he painted in the whole of his lifa;.,^
Again, as regards his intention, his calculated effect in
the treatment of figures, observe the figure of the Messiah in
the Last Judgment. He feels that here in this multitude
of figures, the head and the central position alone are
insufficient to express the might and power of Christ, so
that the whole of his energies are directed to making a
body of colossal and simple grandeur exceeding in majesty
of form all around Him. The head does not represent
the Christ that we know by tradition ; it has been likened
to that of a Jupiter or an Apollo. We, according to our
various conceptions of the relations of God to man, may
have our own views as to whether this is an adequate
representation of the Christ that Christians adore, and to
many the simple gentleness of early treatment may be
more appropriate, Michelangelo had to consider what he
could best express in that tremendous scene, and what he
has chosen to represent is the power to command the dead
to rise, to condemn the sinful, and to raise the righteous ;
and it is that power that we feel in the magnificent figure
of the Christ, It is to me the culmination of this

246 LECTURES ON ART,
gigantic work, and it seeras but feeble and fooUsh to stand
before it, and speak of the " confession of inferiority " in
the introduction of strong and emotional incident.
I must explain before I conclude, that I do not mis
understand what Mr, Ruskin means, when he speaks of
this "confession of inferiority" in comparison with the
serenity of BeUini, which he considers a higher attribute
than the tumult of Michelangelo's art. He has, as is often
the case, confused two ideas; The idea of BeUini living
his ninety years, painting his lovely and peaceful pictures
(for no pictures are so lovely, and to see Bellini's work at
Venice for the first time is a revelation of beauty), his
tender Madonnas and angels who " sing as calmly as
the Fates weave," in scenes where everything goes on
without gesture or effort, is so attractive to him, that he
does not perceive, that though all this makes Bellini more
exclusively an artist than painters who are raore disturbed
by the world, it does not necessarily raake hira a greater
artist. It is with this raisunderstanding that he places this
gentle nature higher than the passionate mind, whose
stormy energy is reflected from all his works. After all, is
Michelangelo less of an artist because he had not that
tranquU power of abstraction, and because the sadness of
his mind shows itself as a pervading characteristic of his
faces ? Is he the worse artist because at a distracting time
he devoted his best energies with passionate love to the

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 247
defence of his beloved native city, and only stole away irt
secret and at night to work on the statues for the family to
which politically he was opposed, but which he cherished
in his memory as that of his benefactors ? I confess I
think not. Surely that the sorrow and conflicting emotions
of those moments should btirn in the cold marble of those
solemn figures in the Mausoleum of the Medici, will never
again be considered an expression of inferiority. Surely
the " shadowed face " of Duke Lorenzo ^ never has tiU now,
and never will again, be made by any one the subject of
a sneer.

In happiest contrast to Mr. Ruskin's rancorous criticism
is the sympathetic essay on Michelange o by M. Charles
Clement, first written for the Revue des Deux Mondes,
and published in a small volume together with similar
short notices of Lionardo da Vinci and Raphael. These'
three notices are remarkable, not only for the beautiful
spirit in which they are written, but for the justice with
which the three characters are corapared and analysed.
The passage on the Medici monuments is worth quoting
1 This "shadowed face " is cited by Mr. Ruskin to iUustrate the
third of Michelangelo's crimes, as expressing " physical instead of
mental interest " ; and he goes on to sneer at the unfinished head of the
Twilight. Students of Michelangelo's life will remember the condi
tions, referred to in the text, under which these monuments were
executed.

248 LECTURES ON ART.
at length, if only to lead students who do not know
M. Clement's book to read it for themselves: —
"Rien ne pr^te h l' emotion dans cette chapelle, claire,
blanche et froide; et, cependant, qui pourrait voir les
statues de Julien, de Laurent, les quatre figures alWgoriques
qui d^corent deux par deux les sarcophages, sans ^tre
fortement et profondement ^rau ? Michelange ne s'est
pas arr^te aux portraits de ses modules. Dans le torabeau
de Jules II. , Rachel et Lia repr^sentent la vie active et
la vie contemplative ; dans le tombeau des Medicis, les
figures de Julien et Laurent personnifient la pens^e et
Taction. Les quatre allegories, — L'Aurore et le Crdpuscule,
le Jour et la Nuit, — rappellent les phases principales et la
rapidite de la destinde de I'homme. Les deux figures de
Julien et de Laurent sont assises. Julien est jeune, digne et
hardi; il est arrae, et appuie son baton de comraandement
sur ses genoux. Laurent ^ est plong^ dans une sombre
meditation ; sa tete, pleine de pensees, est soutenue sur sa
main ; le doigt sur les Ifevres semble vouloir arreter jusqu'au
murraure de la respiration. Est-ce la mine de Florence
qu'il regarde de ses yeux absorbds et profonds ? Que dire
de la majeste et de la puissance de la statue du Jour, de la
titanique beaute de celle de la Nuit, de la grace serieuse
de TAurore, qui s'eveille avec tristesse dans un monde de
^ As Mr. Ruskin points out, the names for these two statues should
be reversed. Giuliano, not Lorenzo, is "II Pensieroso."

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 249
doiileurs ? La langue est impuissante h expliquer les
idees que I'art represente.; mais le public [not having
Mr. Ruskin as a guide] ne se raeprit pas un instant sur la
signification de ces figures ; il appela la statue de Laurent
// Pensieroso, le Penseur. La figure de la Niiit fit une si
vive et si universelle impression, qu'une foule de poetes
s'erapressferent de la ceiebrer." Then follow the well-known
stanzas attributed to Strozzi, and Michelangelo's verses
in reply, "qui sont peut-etre les plus beaux qu'il ait ecrits,
et qui temoignent dans quel trouble de coeur et d'esprit
il avait congu et acheve son plus parfait ouvrage de
sculpture." I am aware that in Mr, Ruskin's voluminous writings
(and I do not pretend to have read half that he has
written), may be found passages innumerable conveying
to the reader a completely different impression of his
views from those which he has put forward in his pamphlet
on Michelangelo and Tintoret. But it is difficult not to
beheve that he has in this spoken out his heart ; moreover,
he has in his later writings denied much of what he wrote
in the Modern Painters. I cannot however resist closing
this paper by quoting the whole of Mr. Ruskin's first
opinion about Michelangelo, often alluded to in these
lectures, which sorae of his readers may by this time have
forgotten, which he himself perhaps has forgotten ; and in
doing this I cannot but think that I am not only not

250 LECTURES ON ART,
doing Mr. Ruskin an injustice, but that I am rendering'
him the best service in my power: "Yet Mino stopped
at the human nature ; he saw the soul, but not the ghostly
presences about it; it was reserved for Michelangelo
to pierce deeper yet, and to see the indwelling angels.
No man's soul is alone ; Laocoon or Tobit, the serpent
has it by the heart or the angel by the hand ; the light
or the fear of the spiritual things that move beside it
may be seen on the body; and that bodily form with
Buonarotti, white, solid, distinct, material, though it be,'
is invariably felt as the instrument or the habitation of
some infinite, invisible power. The earth of the Sistine
Adam that begins to burn ; the woman-embodied burst
of adoration from his sleep ; the twelve great torrents
of the Spirit of God that pause above us there, urned
in their vessels of clay ; the waiting in the shadow of
futurity of those through whom the Promise and Presence
of God went down from the Eve to the Mary, each
still and fixed, fixed in his expectation, silent, foreseeing,
faithful, seated each on his stony throne, the building
stones of the word of God, building on and on, tier by
tier, to the Refused one, the head of the corner ; not
only these, not only the troops of terror torn up from
the earth by the four-quartered winds of the Judgment,
but every fragment and atom of stone that he ever
touched became instantly inhabited by what makes the

PROFESSOR RUSKIN ON MICHELANGELO. 251
hair stand up and the words be few; the St, Matthew,
not yet disengaged from his sepulchre, bound hand and
foot by his grave-clothes, it is left for us to loose him ;
the strange spectral wreath of the Florence Pietk, casting
its pyramidal, distorted shadow, full of pain and death,
among the faint purple lights that cross and perish under
the obscure dome of Sta. Maria del Fiore ; the white
lassitude of joyous limbs, panther-like, yet passive, faint
ing with their own delight, that gleam among the pagan
formalisms of the Uffizii, far away, separating themselves in
their lustrous lightness, as the waves of an Alpine torrent
do by their dancing from the dead stones, though the
stones be as white as they ; and finally, and perhaps raore
than all, those four ineffable types, not of darkness nor of
day, not of morning nor of evening, but of the departure
and the resurrection, the twilight and the dawn of the
souls of men, together with the spectre sitting in the
shadow of the niche above them ; all these, and all else
that I could narae of his forming, have borne, and in
themsdves retain and exercise, the sarae inexplicable
power — inexplicable because proceeding frora an iraagina
tive perception alraost superhuman, which goes whither we
cannot follow, and is where we cannot come ; throwing
naked the final, deepest root of the being of man, whereby
he grows out of the invisible, and holds on his God
home,"

LECTURE X.i
THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE,
To take any general survey of the effect of art on society
is a task of extreme difficulty. The subject is complicated
by its connection with so many of the questions which
reraain a puzzle even to those who inquire most deeply
into the workings of our social systera, that I may well
be excused from attempting any full treatraent of it vrithin
the li raits of this address. Seeing however that I have
been requested to preside over the art section of a con
gress which has for its aira the discussion of all kinds of
social difficulties with a view to iraprovement or reform,
I find myself under the necessity of attempting, if not the
solution of the main problem, yet at any rate the elucida
tion of those conditions under which alone art can produce
that influence for good which I believe it can, and ought,
to produce upon society,
' Delivered at the Liverpool Meeting of the Social Science Congress,
October, 1876,

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 253
With this in view I would venture to suggest the fol
lowing questions : — In the first place, would the universal
extension of a spirit and love of art — such a public spirit
as should exact of our artists, manufacturers, and workmen,
that all their productions should be characterised by the
highest workmanship, skUl, and taste — contribute to the
general welfare and progress of the nation ? In the second,
to what extent can the cultivation and practice of art be
made to take such a hold on our national life, and so to
permeate all classes of society, that such an end may be
brought about, and that the national sentiment may not
permit the making or exhibition of anything false in prin
ciple or offensive to taste? And in the third, how can
such a state of things, which certainly does not now exist,
be created amongst us ?
The mere propounding of these questions will show that
a host of coUateral difficulties, connected with various
matters which agitate the minds of raen, arise to perplex
us; and that to answer them thoroughly we must carry
speculation rauch further than an inquiry into the refining
influence of the higher forms of decorative art. From
those who hold with me that the very essence of good
art is to be found, above aU things, in honest and good
workmanship ; that, — whUe we raay alraost aUow that the
humblest object of manufacture may become a work of
art by being weU done, it is quite certain that the finest

254 LECTURES ON ART,
and smartest object of " virtii " can have no pretensions
to be a work of art unless it is of good workmanship and
genuine manufacture, — the answer to the first of these
questions would doubtless be, that a general diffusion of
a sound artistic spirit would be an unmixed good. We
know however that opinions are strongly and sharply
divided on this point ; since the ideas of material progress
and welfare in vogue with a large section of the community
are in direct opposition to the very existence of an art the
principles of which seem to us so obvious ; to calculate
therefore on any general artistic sentiraent becoming a
part of our national life would seem more hopeless now
than it ever has been. Before this can happen, it is not
too much to say that not only must our national charac
teristics be other than they are, but our beliefs in the
efficacy of much that is thought essential to the progress,
enlightenment, and happiness of mankind must be eradi
cated. To philosophise on this point, however, is not
very profitable, and will lead us to no very valuable con
clusions. I have merely hinted at the difficulties which
surround a' question, which, if insisted on, is perhaps
incapable of solution, and which is at aU events out of
my province as an artist, and had better be left for the
political and social economists to settle.
I find myself obliged therefore to take for granted at
the outset, what most persons indeed will readily agree to,

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 255
that the influence of a genuine art must necessarily be an
influence for good. This being admitted, we stiU have
before us the difficult question of how such an influence
may be best diffused. And first it will be necessary to
inquire to what extent such a diffusion of art-influence
jnay be practicable, and how far there is any possibility
of a genuine love of art taking hold on people generally^
so that it shall seriously affect the whole community. Is
it possible, for instance, ever to recover amongst us the
feeling, which is now extinct, but of which a faint tradition
lingered perhaps as late as the Great Exhibition of 1851,
that it was not worth while to make furniture that would
come to pieces, or to build a house which would not need
repair for at least a reasonable time ? I do not mean to
say that the class of contractors and manufacturers did not
at aU times contain individuals who scamped their work ;
but in forraer tiraes the bad work was the exception, now it
is the rule, openly the rule, and a piece of well-made furni
ture, or a well-buUt house, is an article of luxury, and must
be made or built by specially-trained hands. I have no
intention however of taking into consideration in this
address any of the moral causes, such as the ardour to
make money at any cost to the public, or trade jealousies,
or other causes of the kind, that tend, especially in these
days, to the degeneracy of art or manufacture ; but rather
the inevitable social changes, which are the result of

256 LECTURES ON ART.
material progress and civilisation. If we ask, then, is the
return to such a state of things possible, or, to put it more
fairly, is the return to the tirae when every workman was
also an artist possible, I answer that under existing social
conditions it is impossible.
That feeling of love of good work for its own sake and
of pleasure in bringing it to perfection, which is perhaps
the most certain evidence of a genuine artistic spirit, was
not in forraer times the property of a few individuals of
superior gifts and education ; it was the comraon property
of all handicraftsmen, whether possessed of original talent
or not, I do not for a moment pretend that such a spirit
as this has ever risen in this country to the dignity of
a national sentiment, and at no tirae do I imagine that
a cheap or easy mechanical substitute for labour would
have been refused on artistic grounds. That such a state
of national sentiment has existed in the world is, however,
indubitable. We have the evidence of everything that the
Greeks ^ have handed down to us from the best times of
their art, that, amongst them at least, nothing short of
perfection was tolerated; nay raore, that they were pos
sessed of a critical faculty which would seem to have
1 This would perhaps be more exactly true of the Athenians than of
the Greeks as a nation, for the new discoveries at Elis seem to show
that occasionally they put up with very inferior work (see the Edin
burgh Review for Jan. 1879) ; tiit 'he almost universal perfection of
Greek work shows that such a feeUng must have existed very widely.

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 257
surpassed our own, so that their trained and cultivated
perceptions were satisfied with nothing less than a subtlety
of forra and proportion, the advantages of which to our
coarser senses seem inappreciable. Nor is it only in their
more important works that this perfection is to be found,
or in the decoration of such things as our modern cant
calls art-objects; the evidence of their instinctive love of-
beauty and perfection of workmanship is equally to be
seen in their more trifling productions. The Greeks in
their art did not aim merely at adornment; they aimed
above everything at completeness and consistency, while
their natural instincts, heightened by cultivation, supplied
them with ever-varying forms of that beauty which can
be appreciated by the eye, but of which description can
convey no idea. We raay safely say that everything they
produced was a work of art, because they never tolerated
anything short of perfection in workraanship; and we
cannot but believe that the noblest spirit of rivalry in
art aniraated the whole people from the highest to the
lowest. It is melancholy to turn from such a state of things to
our own times and surroundings, and it is only too clear
that we must be content in our own social life with aiming
at something very far short of the Greek ideal, and even
then we must be satisfied if we get a tithe of what we
desire. s

258 LECTURES ON ART,
This is not the occasion to inquire into the causes of
the high standard maintained at this glorious epoch of
Greek art ; but, whatever they were, it must be pointed out
that there is no possibility of their ever again coming
into operation. The very perfection to which mechanical
methods of production have been brought, raising as it
does works of mechanical skUl almost to the level of
works of art in their wonderful precision and finish, has
given the death-blow to true ' artistic workmanship, the
charm of which lies as rauch in the individual character
given through the skUl of the workman as in the invention
displayed in the design. What is now required of the
skilled mechanic is not so much that he should understand
how to raake any particular object, as that he should
know how to raanage the machine by which it is made.
It is useless however to deplore and rail against this
invasion of tnachinery ; the best thing that can be done
under the circumstances is to devote ourselves to the
consideration of how far it will be possible to make it,
under existing conditions, subservient to the principles
of sound art.
The first instance I take shall be from the subject of
engineering. There can be no question that for the
worst of the eyesores which the progress of civUisation
has inflicted on our unhappy cities the responsibility
rests with the engineers. That whole districts should be

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 259
given up to desolation in our large towns, through the
invasion of raUways and their appurtenances, is probably
unavoidable, at least under the hap-hazard arrangements
which have governed the growth of the raUway system ;
but that the few spots favoured by picturesqueness of
grouping, or real architectural beauty, should have their
charm destroyed at one blow by the intrusion of some
hideous railway bridge or station, shows an amount of
heartlessness on the part of the constructors, and I may
add of the public, which permits such things to be done,
at which we might well be surprised, did we not know
that a large section of the community admires at heart
what is supposed to be a fine practical preference for
utility over sentiment.
Perhaps the most obtrusive results of this feeling are
to be found in London. The views along the Thames,
from Westminster to London Bridge, were extremely
picturesque, and embraced many beautiful architectural
features; they were only marred to the public eye by
the meanness of the buildings and wharves along the
banks, and it was wisely determined to add an embank
ment, which, if it destroyed inevitably some of the
picturesqueness, dear to artists, that is always to be
found among barges and waterside sheds, has undoubtedly
added an architectural dignity which is worthy of a great
city. Strange to say, what was given with one hand was
s 2

26o LECTURES ON ART.
more than taken away with the other ; monster railway
stations of hideous and apparently useless proportions
were erected, which overshadowed and dwarfed by con
trast our one beautiful waterside building, Somerset House,
and eclipsed by comparison the groups of spires, and the
beautiful Dome which rises above the banks. Blackfriars
Bridge, another of our finest architectural works, is flanked
by two railway bridges,^ which would appear to have been
made ugly on purpose, and we are also at this moment
threatened with the disfigurement of another noble struc
ture ; it is not at all certain that London Bridge will
not be eventually ruined by the addition of iron foot
ways on each side ; and the public is supposed to believe
that these additions will not be objectionable, because
they are to be covered with some trumpery Gothic orna
ment. A bridge at Florence, of no great architectural
pretensions, perhaps, but a most interesting and picturesque
memorial of the past, has just been wantonly ruined in
this very way. But the cruel treatment which that beau- .
tiful city has suffered of late years is too painful a subject
to dwell on.
^ I have in this passage laboured under some strange mental con
fusion. Old Blackfriars Bridge, of which I was thinking, was pulled
down some seventeen years ago ; I probably had in my mind the new
bridge and the railway bridge alongside it, and the railway bridge
by Southwark bridge. In any case there is a confusion of hideous
bridges at that part of the river.

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 261
Now, it is doubtless inevitable that such constructions
should be made of iron. If iron is more suitable and
cheaper for such purposes than either stone or brick, it
is absurd to iraagine that • it will not be used. It seems
to me, however, neither necessary that iron railway bridges
and stations should be as ugly as they are ; nor that the
only alternative should be to raake them an imitation
of unsuitable architecture ; nor again that they should be
adorned with inappropriate ornament by way of beauti
fying them. A notable instance of this misconception,
which seeras to prevail so widely, is afforded by the
bridge that was built over Ludgate Hill. It is probable
that the specially offensive form of construction that is
placed there was the cheapest form of bridge that could
be made; of that I am no judge; but it is quite certain
that an engineer, who had but a little ingenuity beyond
what is required for the calculation of strain and cost,
might have invented something which in its original
form should have been less offensive to the eye. The
view of St. Paul's up Ludgate HiU, with the small spire in
the mid-distance making a composition of the kind that
delights an artist, and at the same time giving dignity
by its slender proportions to the imposing mass behind,
was heightened in effect by the framing of a busy and
picturesque street, and seemed to unite every point that
is characteristic and interesting in a great city. The

262 LECTURES ON ART.
public in this case resented the offence to taste, and the
company was obliged to spend a large sura of money in
covering the bridge with ornament which it was irapossible
could be otherwise than both unsuitable and useless. A
very moderate quota of the national sentiment, which I
have referred to as the property of the Greek nation,
would have prevented the possibility of the erection of
this bridge in such a spot.
I have said that the use of iron is a necessity in modern
engineering works ; but I have no hesitation in adding
¦that where these are obliged to intrude themselves on
places already made beautiful by fine architectural features,
the public, and the authorities responsible to it, ought to
insist that whatever is put up should be in harmony with
the surroundings. In the case just referred to, an iron
structure should not have been permitted at all. If the
bridge was a necessity, and it raust be supposed that it
was,i the engineer should have been obliged, by the same
authority that enforced the addition of the expensive
ornamental brackets, to build it of stone. An arch in the
style of old Blackfriars Bridge would at least have been a
handsome feature in itself.
But there are many situations where the use of iron
1 Mr. Street reminds me that by taking the railway across the river
a little lower down it might have been carried under Fleet Street
instead of over it.

¦IHE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 263
structures is not only a necessity, but need be in no way
objectionable. There is here in Liverpool a construction
of which the inhabitants are justly proud. I refer to the
Landing-stage, which in the ingenuity of its design, its
admirable fitness for its purpose, and the excellence of
its workmanship, combined with the picturesque accom
paniments of river-life, may be rightly considered in the
light of a work of art. The effect of it is, however, to
a great extent marred by the ugliness of the iron bridges
which connect it with the mainland. It seems to me
not too much to say that there is not the least need for
their ugliness ; surely a little more ingenuity spent on their
construction raight have made them not only inoffensive
to the eye, but positively agreeable. There are here no
architectural features in the imraediate neighbourhood ;
the surroundings are the wharves .and docks and ware
houses, which are the glory of a great commercial city,
and which have a character of their own; any attempt
then to have made these bridges architecturally beautiful
would have been wasted in such a spot. Nevertheless I
cannot but conceive that there must be a raethod of
carrying out such works which should combine strength
and lightness with elegance, without going beyond the
necessary conditions of iron- structure. But it gives of
course less trouble to an engineer to make a square
iron-box which shall be strong enough to bear the traffic,

264 LECTURES ON ART.
than to go out of his way to devise something less open
to objection ; if anything of a more ornamental nature
appears necessary, he is saved any further consideration
by handing his work over to an architect or artist to
plaster with decoration.
Without dwelling any further on this subject, I may
be able to draw a. conclusion more or less satisfactory
frora the remarks I have made. Seeing then that
engineering is distinctly an art of the present and future,
and that both its materials, and the principles and condi-
. tions of their eraployraent, are different to any which have
hitherto been known ; if it is ever to have any beauty
of its own, or, to put it raore hopefully, if its results
are ever to be less objectionable than they are now, it
raust be by seeking for such results within the necessary
conditions of its existence, and not by the addition or
superposition of an utterly unsuitable style of ornament,
drawn from past ages and a different order of things. In
short, the exercise of ingenuity in works of pure utility
must be raade to occupy the place fiUed by decoration
in ornaraental design.
Passing on now to works of art properly so called, and to
those works of raanufacture in which decorative art plays
a raore or less important part, we find that here the con
ditions are different. In these, as has been already noticed,
part of the charm will be derived from the beauty of the

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE: 265
workmanship, and frora the individuality given by the mind
and touch of the workman, a phase of artistic beauty to
which mechanical reproduction is death. What is it
that we admire in Japanese art? No doubt the mar
vellous and inexhaustible fertihty of invention, and the
perfect rendering of natural forms ; but stUl more, if pos
sible, the exquisite workmanship, which surpasses anything
that European hands are capable of. Or to confine
ourselves to European art ; wherein lies the beauty of those
old Venetian glass goblets, which have the elegance and
fragility of a harebell on its stem, and almost its fairy-like
lightness? Doubtless, in the first place, in loveliness of
design and delicacy of material ; but equally also in the
taste of the handicraftsman, whose skill has triumphed
I
over the extreme difficulty of producing a perfectly beauti
ful form in a material requiring such rapid and dexterous
treatraent as molten glass. It must be remembered
that to gain this triumph he must do the work well ; the
more exact and true he makes it, the more artistic is
the result. This is so obvious a truism that it might be
thought superfluous, were it . not that there are many
persons, manufacturers and others, who consider that the
more crooked and irregular such objects are, the raore
artistic they ought to be considered ; forgetting that the
iraperfections are due to the stubbornness of the material,
and that the greatest artist is he who overcomes them

266 LECTURES ON ART.
best. I make a digression in order to dwell on this
point, because I think it one on which the public wants
enlightening. There is no doubt that owing to the ill-
advised expressions of customers, and perhaps also of some
artists, the firm which now reproduces the old Venetian
glass has faUen short of what it might have done, through
the idea that it is an advantage that the bowls of wine
glasses should be stuck on one side and the necks of
decanters twisted awry, and that the results are in this
way more artistic than they would be with neater work
manship. This is an error, however, which has grown
out of what was originally a truth, — that the imperfections
of hand-work are preferable to the cold and lifeless
accuracy of mechanical productions.
It is not with the intention of discrediting the efforts
of another firm, which has done wonders in rendering
a coarser kind of pottery really artistic, that I refer to
a mistake which was committed of the same kind. These
gentiemen are apparentiy under the irapression that an
additional artistic value is given to their work when the
coloured glazes they apply run into confusion or half-
disappear in the process of firing, as when a blue glaze
applied to a flower at the top of a jar runs into
a blotch at the bottom edge. There is no doubt an
agreeable variety produced in pottery, where it is not
intended to be of the finer kind, through the accidents

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE, 267
of glazing and firing; and some most splendid results in
colour have been gained in ancient Chinese porcelain
through the studied use of glazes which partially melt
into each other in the fire ; but in an ordinary way, and
especially where there is a pattern to be picked out in
colour, to make a point of such accidents is a misappre
hension of the rule which is applicable to all works
of art — that the intention should always be to make
the work as good as the material and other conditions
will permit.^
To return, however. How much of this skill of hand
and eye is required by the modern glass-maker or potter ?
His business is not to use his discretion or his natural
taste in giving elegance to the form of the glass or pot
he is ma'sing, but to manage the raould out of which
thousands of exactly similar objects are produced; for
there is no doubt that the manufacturer believes that
forms are rauch better produced by the raould than by
hand-work. In a small work on glass-making by Apsley
^ I understand that Messrs. Doulton affirm that so far from these
accidents being intentional, their elTorts are directed to avoiding their
occurrence, which would perhaps point to there being something wrong
in the manufacture, as the colours are very clearly and cleanly defined
in the old Grh de Flandre. But I am confident that with the ' ' artistic "
public the charm is believed to be in the imperfection ; I learn from
the remarks of my esthetic friends that it is certainly so iu the case of
modern Venetian glass.

268 LECTURES ON ART,
Pellatt this opinion is distinctly expressed. After de
scribing the skilful and ingenious way in which the old
Venetians made their diamond mouldings, he says that
" equally good effects are produced by modern glass-makers
in a more direct manner by raaking brass open-and-shut,
or dip-moulds, so as to give at one operation the entire
diamond impression, thus saving the tedium of forming
each diamond separately."
It is true that to an uncultivated eye the effect may
be equally good, and that to save labour and produce in
great quantities may be a necessity ; but in the process the
original charm has disappeared, and the delicate fabric has
become a mechanical production without life, made prob
ably at a tenth of the cost, and with a tenth of the
labour, but one which, so far as the artistic value of its
"diamond moulding" goes, it was superfluous to make
at all. It would be very foolish to suppose that
mechanical reproduction can be done away with ; it is
part of the necessity of the times ; it is certainly a result
of our material progress which we cannot go back from,
and, as I have already said, the conditions, under which
everything made before the introduction of machinery
was in one sense a work of art, can never be restored.
All I should wish to be generally understood is, that we
must not delude ourselves into the belief that we can
produce works of art by the substitution of machinery for

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE, 269
hand labour, or that the decoration of objects of common
utility by a mechanical process can ever have any artistic
value. We should indeed have raade an immense step
in advance if the public could be persuaded that it
is better to have no decoration at all than such as is
purely mechanical.^
^ These remarks have been misinterpreted in some newspaper criti
cisms to mean that mechanical processes should in no case be made
use of in art. It was a question with me when writing this lecture,
whether it would not be better to anticipate objections by a digression on
this very point ; but I felt that this would so interfere with the course
of the argument, that I thought it better to leave it to the inteUigence
of my audience to infer a certain amount of common sense on my part.
Some remarks lately made by Sir Henry Cole at Manchester prove to
me, however, that I have not expressed myself with sufficient fulness.
It is well to state, therefore, that I had no such intentions as he
assumes. The reason why the objections to the mechanical production
of the embossed decoration of a wine-glass do not hold good in the
case of the printed patterns on a wall-paper or chintz are clear enough
on a little consideration. That a repeated pattern may look well, its
repetitions must be true ; in a chintz or wall-paper, therefore, mechani
cal reproduction becomes a positive advantage, as the accurate repetition
by hand of a pattern recurring some hundreds and thouFands of times
is either impossible, or so nearly impossible, and in any case so
laborious, as to appal one with the idea of the waited time and energy
requisite to such a result ; a result so easily achieved by mechanical
means. Imagine the attempt to execute by hand the five or six hundred
repetitions, to be found in a small room (such as the one in which I am
writing) of the elaborately involved patterns in one of the " Morris
papers" to which Sir Henry refers me; the result would either be
simple chaos, in a case where precision in the repeated forms is a
thief point in the effect required by the designer : or we should require

270 LECTURES ON ART.
There are cases, however, where a system of mechanical
a twelvemonth's work by a skilful workman, which would after all be
less effective thau a few hours' use of the printing-block.s. On the
other hand, in decorations where there is no repetition, as in the case
of the Chinese hand-painted papers of birds and flowering-trees, it
would not only be more laborious to print the pattern, but it is the
freedom of the hand-work which gives the charm, the fancy of the
artist coming in at every touch.
The objections to mechanical reproduction in the case of the wine
glass quoted above are more complex. In the first place, the necessity
for added decoration is not so strong : blank walls where we could not
employ an artist to paint them, or single coloured chintzes where we
could not have hand-embroidery, would become wearisome to the eye to
such a degree that some easily-produced form of decoration becomes a
necessity ; but a plain wine-glass of a good form is nearly, if not quite,
as pretty as an embossed one, and the variations to be made in the form
alone are practically endless. In the next place, the making of the
diamond pattern in the old way involves no laborious process (it is only
too slow for the exigencies of trade), but merely a certain amount of
easily-acquired skill on the part of the workman ; the skill itself (as
explained above) giving the charm to the ttjork. In, brief, by our manu
facturers a decorative feature is added to 'the glass by mechanical means,
which only has value when it is not done by mechanical means. It
is needless to multiply illustrations and arguments which will readily
suggest themselves to the reader, and it must be remembered that I only
use the wine-glass accidentally as an iUustration, and not as an extreme
.case. Although an exact definition is not easy, it may be broadly affirmed
that mechani cal reproduction in art begins to be objectionable at the
point where, precise and multiplied repetition not being one of the
conditions, the charm of free and skilful treatment outweighs the imper
fections and the more lengthened processes of hand -work ; and con
versely, it ceases to be offensive to taste where the labour of hand-work
not only becomes opnressive to the imagination, but ceases to fulfil the
requisite conditions.

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 271
reproduction interferes seriously with such designedly deco
rative works as might otherwise have a high artistic value ;
I mean where skUl and taste are applied to the decoration
of objects originally produced by mechanical means. The
beauty of a Greek vase or of a Majolica jar is twofold ;
it resides first in the form, which besides being beautiful
in itself, has the charm of handicraft to which I have
referred ; and, secondly, in the decoration. Now, I would
ask, what is the use of a manufacturer spending large
sums of money on the decoration of a vase which is
disfigured, not only by the monotony of surface and
form which is the inevitable result of moulding used
instead of throwing frora the wheel, but by the obtrusive
rib which the mould leaves down each side, and which
nobody is at the pains to remove before it goes into the
artist's hands ? I have had under my notice vases orna
mented with unquestionable taste and the most delicate
manipulative skill, on which much tirae and labour had
been spent by the artist and no small sum of money by
the manufacturer, the effect of which was entirely marred
by this obtrasive bleraish, and by the fact that the pots
were moulded instead of turned. If complaint were made
to the artist, he would probably complain in his turn that
he is obliged to take what the manufacturer gives him,
and has no raeans of getting anything better, for all the
manufacturers are alike. If to the manufacturer, he would

272 LECTURES ON ART,
say that it makes no difference to him ; that it pays him
as well as if he took raore pains, because people who
buy do not notice a fault of this kind, but only look to
the decoration. From his point of view he is no doubt
right, and although there are happily not wanting among
our manufacturers men of spirit and taste who will go to
expense, and incur risk, in the production of articles of what
is called art-manufacture, none will hazard any loss on
the regular profits of their business. The fault lies in the
original method of making, which has sunk from a fine
art to a mechanical process ; and if the manufacturer were
so far a man of taste as to wish to alter it, he -would
find himself in the difficulty of having to set up new
machinery, and engage a different class of workmen,
which he would probably not be able to get unless he
trained thera for the purpose. We thus find ourselves
in a vicious circle: the artist cannot help himself; the
manufacturer will not help him, for he makes for a pubhc
which has not the discrimination to perceive what offends
the artist and man of taste ; and he is also hampered by
the workman, who naturally works in the groove to which
he is accustomed, and in accordance with the exigencies
of trade, which demand the use of mechanical processes
to supersede labour.
To trace the evU in this way to its source does
not, however, supply us with a remedy. I proceed now

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 273
briefly to consider in what directions we are to look
for an improvement on the state of things I have been
describing. And first I should hope for the raost beneficial results
from the personal supervision of artists of cultivated
tastes over the manufacture of the objects of our daily
life. A strong feeling for the higher forms of art has
never existed in this country, or, I should say rather, the
artistic faculty has never in our race risen of its own accord
towards the higher forras of art. Except in architecture
we have never produced any works of higher art ; we
have never had of indigenous growth anything in the shape
of those schools of painting, sculpture, and metal-work
which sprang out of the native soil in Flanders, to say
nothing of Italy, All the higher forms of art have been
imported into England either by foreign artists coming to
work for our native princes, or by men of taste and culture.
Until within the last hundred years there was no such
thing as a school of painting in England at all. But there
did exist in England till lately, what indeed was comraon
to all the world, the sentiment and tradition of excellence
in such more homely forms of art as are applied to
household furniture and fittings ; and such a feeling took
of course an English development, which gave its own
character to the work produced. Now what I wish to
call your attention to is, that this tradition having died
T

274 LECTURES ON ART.
out through the causes I have mentioned, and the circum
stances under which works of art and manufacture are
produced, and matters having arrived at the dead lock
described above, so that, except in a few solitary cases,
it may be said that an object of industrial art is never
now produced which is satisfactory to the cultivated eye
from every point of view — what I desire to point out is,
that only through th determination and energy, and to
a certain extent the self-sacrifice, of those who are capable
of directing the public taste — that is, of artists and men
of culture — can an iraprovement be considered possible.
There has been a great effort in this direction made
of late years. The firm of which Mr. William Morris
is the head, of which indeed he is now the sole member,
started the idea, now well understood, that the only
possible means of producing work which shall be satis
factory from every side, is to return to the principles on
which all works of art and art-manufacture were executed,
not only in the Middle Ages, but at all epochs up to the
beginning of this century. That is, it was intended that
the leading spirit of the firm should be not merely a
contractor for the work of others, looking to the public
to guide his taste, but himself an artist, not only with
the power to direct the craftsmen who work under him,
but with skill and taste to produce designs, and knowledge
not only of the assthetic but of the practical side of the

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 275
craft. Such a knowledge and skill Mr. Morris undoubtedly
possesses, and there is no less doubt in my mind that from
under his direction have proceeded the only thoroughly
satisfactory works of decorative industrial art which have
been done in this country since the decay of the tradition
of sound work. And he has not done this without the
determination and energy I have spoken of, nor without
a considerable amount of self-sacrifice both of time and
money. Since this experiment has been set on foot the
moveraent has become more general; so general in fact
that it may be said now to have become a matter of
fashion. Many imitations, more or less successful, of this
experiment have been raade which are perfectly genuine ;
but there are many more which are only meant to catch
the public taste while it runs in this direction. We have
evidence of this in the numerous firms which advertise
art-furniture, art-pottery, art-needlework, &c., &c., some of
which no doubt are sufficiently in earnest, while others
merely trade on the cant of the day, to pass off furniture
and other fabrics as bad in design and construction as
any that were produced before this movement took place,
and infinitely worse in taste. The influence of the designs
which have proceeded from Mr. Morris's firm has been
immense, and has affected the productions of many who
no doubt imagine themselves quite free from it ; for I
trace, or fancy I trace it, in the works of raen raost
T 2

276 LECTURES ON ART.
opposed in taste and principle ; but the effect on the
large mass of manufacturers has only been that they have
followed the fashion, and caught a few tricks which they
repeat in a servUe raanner, without having in the least un
derstood or seized the spirit. It is the characteristic indeed
of raen of genius to be perpetually surprising their imitators,
and there is no fear of a " Morris style " being adopted
which shall ever outdo him on his own ground. It is to
be hoped that the success of this experiment may not be
so much a matter of fashion as to leave no lasting trace,
and it wUl be the fault not only of the public but of the
artists theraselves if this is the case.
It will of course be quite understood that if I refer at
this length to the work Mr. Morris has done, it is not with
any view of bringing his name forward, for he is fortunately
by this time too well known to require aid from anything
I can say. It is because I have a firm conviction that
it is only by some such devotion on the part of artists
themselves that the degrading tendency of mechanism and
all its accompaniments may be counteracted ; and only
through such practical application of knowledge and skill
can the taste of the public, which has raore influence for
good or for eril in this country than in any other, ever
be really improved.
To pass on to another point, it raay be said that the in
creasing spread of the education which every year is being

IHE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 277
more widely diffused, and in which the teaching of drawing
is encouraged by Government grants, raust gradually infuse
a spirit of art and a love of beauty ; and what is still more
important, a hatred of ugliness, and a capacity for dis
tinguishing the true from the vulgar and pretentious. I
believe that it may have a limited effect in this direction.
It is not to be supposed, however, that to teach the
rudiments of geometry and perspective and elementary free
hand drawing to so many thousands of chUdren, wiU turn
them at once into artists, or even give them any artistic
instincts. But it will act as other elementary education
acts — give a chance of cultivation to some receptive natures
which might otherwise reraain undeveloped. These ele-
raentary stages in art indeed can hardly be said to be
art at all ; and those who complain that free-hand drawing
is dull and tedious work for chUdren, and that they should
be taught to work at once from nature so as to have
interest in their subject, do not understand the reasons
for this system. In the first place, the authorities well
understand that to make geometrical and free-hand draw
ings can no raore be called studying art than learning
the alphabet can be said to be studying hterature, both
being the necessary preliniinary stages to a higher culture ;
and in the second place, where drawing is only a small
portion of the course of elementary education, and is carried
on for a very limited time in places where perhaps hundreds

278 LECTURES ON ART.
of school children are learning, it is necessary to give the in
struction in the most convenient and handy form. There are
the art schools for the further development of those whose
taste or talent impels them to further study in this direc
tion ; and I may add that a constant effort is being made
so to arrange the Government payments to the masters,
that there shall be the necessary inducement to lead the
pupils from one stage to another — a matter which would
be easy enough if the supplies were unlimited, but which
is difficult when they have to be kept within bounds. It
is in this way then that I hope the influence of the vast
machinery of the Art Departraent may be felt; that
is, through the chances given to children of turning
their attention to art if their inclinations lie that way,
through the inducements to study offered by the art
classes and art schools, and through the final induce-
«
raents to enter into training at South Kensington as art
masters, and in turn diffuse their knowledge through the
country. There is, however, another great piece of machinery
which runs no such risks, and by which the truest prin
ciples of taste may be diffused araong all classes. I refer
to the institution and formation of museums. Here again
do not let us deceive ourselves as to the influence they
may exercise. Without previous culture no one is likely
to appreciate a work of high art; the richness and

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 279
splendour of workmanship and material in a cup by Celhni
will please an uneducated eye, ^ut it needs a long
apprenticeship in general and special study for the appre
ciation of the exquisite taste and fancy which has guided
the artist. Mr. Morley, in a speech on education, lately
asked why the collection of Castellani jewels at the British
Museum should not be sent to Birmingham, to improve
the taste of the jewellers. If it was in the least probable
that the goldsmiths and jewellers would take to heart the
lesson that those wonderful specimens of Greek art might
teach thera, the lesson which I have tried to inculcate
in this paper — viz., that exquisite workmanship is the
essence of all fine art raanufacture, and of jewellery above
all things — no risk perhaps would be too great to run in
the cause ; but it is far too probable that the only result
would be the "cribbing" of a few of the forms to produce
a novelty, and the executing thera in a raore or less coarse
and barbarous manner. It must be remembered, too,
that museums have another important function besides
the circulation through the provinces of fine specimens cf
art and workmanship, and. that is the preservation of those
inestimably precious relics of antiquity which no money
or labour could ever restore to us if once lost or destroyed.
After this has been taken into account, there can be no
doubt that the exhibition and circulation of objects of
ait is of great importance, and cannot but have a refining

28o LECTURES ON ART.
and educating effect on those whose tastes are sufficiently
raised by cultivation ttl appreciate them ; indeed, to supply
the local museums and art schools -with the best specimens
available, is one of the most iraportant functions of the
South Kensington Museura.
If I have explained myself in these remarks, it will
be understood that I see three ways in which the influ
ence of art may be brought to bear on our social
system — through the return, if only in part, to that
bygone excellence of workraanship which, for reasons
that I have dwelt on, and others which I have
forborne to discuss, must necessarily be only partial ;
through the spread of education; and through opportuni
ties afforded to art-students throughout the kingdom of
seeing fine works of different periods and styles. All
these influences however I have been obliged to confess
must be limited in their effect, and we must not deceive
ourselves as to the extent to which public taste may be
influenced by these means. We have only to 4hink of
the immense number araongst us of all classes, frora the
highest to the lowest, who are utterly indifferent as to
whether their surroundings are ugly or beautiful, and who
trouble themselves only about personal comfort or luxury
according to their degree, to realise how irapossible it
will be ever to instil into them the most rudimentary
ideas upon the subject. We who are interested in these

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE. 281
things, though we appear to ourselves to be a large and
important section of the community, form but a very small
portion of the whole raass of the nation, which is for the
most part aniraated by other interests, indifferent, and in
raany cases irreconcUably opposed, to the interests of art.
We raay reraember however as an encouragement, that
at no time in the world's history, except at that period
of the culmination of Greek art which I have referred
to, has a nation been wholly artistic. In Italy, even at
the best time, the mass of the people were probably
indifferent, and the love of art was confined to artists,
artificers, and the cultivated class. It is trae that in
Florence there seems to have been something like popular
enthusiasm when a fine work of art was produced, as in
a well-known instance, when Cimabue's picture was carried
in procession. It may be doubted howevei whether this
was anything more than an exhibition of enthusiasm
among the painter's friends or his guild, taking a form
of rejoicing common in those days. And although I
have said that I do not see the possibility under existing
conditions of so complete a diffusion of taste for art among
us as shall make us an artistic race, yet there is no reason
why it should not become amongst us, as it was once in
Italy, the property at least of the cultivated class and of
all art-workmen. Let us never forget, too, that the spirit
of art will of itself assist in the increase of this educated

282 LECTURES ON ART.
class, and in the spread of the cultivation by which it
lives.

It may be advisable to add a few words to this paper,
left rather incoraplete in its latter part. I have frequently
in the course of this and other lectures alluded to the
dying out of the tradition of good work as a cause of the
degeneracy of workmanship in the present day ; and I
have referred to certain artists and architects as devoting
theraselves to restoring this tradition of good work by their
individual efforts. It is obvious, however, that unless
something like a School is produced by these means, such
good work as is done must be very limited, its only in
fluence being traceable in the false and cheap imitations
which copy the manner without seizing, or desiring to seize,
the spirit. The best counteracting influence, therefore,
would be the establishment of schools where good work-
raan.ship should be taught. Abroad, the spirit of fine
workmanship is not dead. The Paris Exhibition of 1878
proved that in France and Italy all kinds of technical arts
are still in as good a condition as ever as regards execution
and workmanship, if degenerate in taste and invention.
Sorae carved panels exhibited in the Italian Court, two of
which were bought for the South Kensington Museum,
were executed in the highest perfection. And in all matters
connected with raodelling and metal work the French and

THE INFLUENCE OF ART ON SOCIAL LIFE, 283
Other nations excel us on every point ; it is well known
indeed that our most eminent pottery firras and silversmiths
employ French workmen. Our plan, therefore, is to estab
lish technical schools under the best foreign teachers that
are to be found ; and if our manufacturers are not too much
under the influence of trade jealousies to allow it, and our
mechanics are not too conceited to learn, some good raay
be done. One of the City Companies has already given
assistance towards the formation of a School of Wood-
carving under an Italian artist, which promises the best
results ; and it would be an admirable thing if others of
those rich companies would aid in like raanner towards
the recovery of those technical arts of which they are the
recognised representatives.

THE END.

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