Lectures on Art
J >> John Ruskin >> Lectures on Art[Transcriber's note: Transliteration of Greek words appears between + signs.]
Library Edition
THE COMPLETE WORKS OF JOHN RUSKIN
CROWN OF WILD OLIVE
TIME AND TIDE
QUEEN OF THE AIR
LECTURES ON ART AND LANDSCAPE
ARATRA PENTELICI
NATIONAL LIBRARY ASSOCIATION
NEW YORK CHICAGO
***
LECTURES ON ART.
DELIVERED
BEFORE THE
UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
IN HILARY TERM, 1870.
***
CONTENTS.
LECTURE I.
INAUGURAL 1
LECTURE II.
THE RELATION OF ART TO RELIGION 24
LECTURE III.
THE RELATION OF ART TO MORALS 46
LECTURE IV.
THE RELATION OF ART TO USE 66
LECTURE V.
LINE 86
LECTURE VI.
LIGHT 102
LECTURE VII.
COLOUR 123
PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1887.
The following lectures were the most important piece of my literary work
done with unabated power, best motive, and happiest concurrence of
circumstance. They were written and delivered while my mother yet lived,
and had vividest sympathy in all I was attempting;--while also my
friends put unbroken trust in me, and the course of study I had followed
seemed to fit me for the acceptance of noble tasks and graver
responsibilities than those only of a curious traveler, or casual
teacher.
Men of the present world may smile at the sanguine utterances of the
first four lectures: but it has not been wholly my own fault that they
have remained unfulfilled; nor do I retract one word of hope for the
success of other masters, nor a single promise made to the sincerity of
the student's labor, on the lines here indicated. It would have been
necessary to my success, that I should have accepted permanent residence
in Oxford, and scattered none of my energy in other tasks. But I chose
to spend half my time at Coniston Waterhead; and to use half my force in
attempts to form a new social organization,--the St. George's
Guild,--which made all my Oxford colleagues distrustful of me, and many
of my Oxford hearers contemptuous. My mother's death in 1871, and that
of a dear friend in 1875, took away the personal joy I had in anything I
wrote or designed: and in 1876, feeling unable for Oxford duty, I
obtained a year's leave of rest, and, by the kind and wise counsel of
Prince Leopold, went to Venice, to reconsider the form into which I had
cast her history in the abstract of it given in the "Stones of Venice."
The more true and close view of that history, begun in "St. Mark's
Rest," and the fresh architectural drawings made under the stimulus of
it, led me forward into new fields of thought, inconsistent with the
daily attendance needed by my Oxford classes; and in my discontent with
the state I saw them in, and my inability to return to their guidance
without abandonment of all my designs of Venetian and Italian history,
began the series of vexations which ended in the very nearly mortal
illness of 1878.
Since, therefore, the period of my effective action in Oxford was only
from 1870 to 1875, it can scarcely be matter of surprise or reproof that
I could not in that time obtain general trust in a system of teaching
which, though founded on that of Da Vinci and Reynolds, was at variance
with the practice of all recent European academy schools; nor
establish--on the unassisted resources of the Slade Professorship--the
schools of Sculpture, Architecture, Metal-work, and manuscript
Illumination, of which the design is confidently traced in the four
inaugural lectures.
In revising the book, I have indicated as in the last edition of the
"Seven Lamps," passages which the student will find generally
applicable, and in all their bearings useful, as distinguished from
those regarding only their immediate subject. The relative importance of
these broader statements, I again indicate by the use of capitals or
italics; and if the reader will index the sentences he finds useful for
his own work, in the blank pages left for that purpose at the close of
the volume, he will certainly get more good of them than if they had
been grouped for him according to the author's notion of their contents.
SANDGATE, _10th January, 1888_.
LECTURES ON ART
LECTURE I
INAUGURAL
1. The duty which is to-day laid on me, of introducing, among the
elements of education appointed in this great University, one not only
new, but such as to involve in its possible results some modification of
the rest, is, as you well feel, so grave, that no man could undertake it
without laying himself open to the imputation of a kind of insolence;
and no man could undertake it rightly, without being in danger of having
his hands shortened by dread of his task, and mistrust of himself.
And it has chanced to me, of late, to be so little acquainted either
with pride or hope, that I can scarcely recover so much as I now need,
of the one for strength, and of the other for foresight, except by
remembering that noble persons, and friends of the high temper that
judges most clearly where it loves best, have desired that this trust
should be given me: and by resting also in the conviction that the
goodly tree whose roots, by God's help, we set in earth to-day, will not
fail of its height because the planting of it is under poor auspices, or
the first shoots of it enfeebled by ill gardening.
2. The munificence of the English gentleman to whom we owe the founding
of this Professorship at once in our three great Universities, has
accomplished the first great group of a series of changes now taking
gradual effect in our system of public education, which, as you well
know, are the sign of a vital change in the national mind, respecting
both the principles on which that education should be conducted, and the
ranks of society to which it should extend. For, whereas it was formerly
thought that the discipline necessary to form the character of youth was
best given in the study of abstract branches of literature and
philosophy, it is now thought that the same, or a better, discipline may
be given by informing men in early years of the things it will be of
chief practical advantage to them afterwards to know; and by permitting
to them the choice of any field of study which they may feel to be best
adapted to their personal dispositions. I have always used what poor
influence I possessed in advancing this change; nor can any one rejoice
more than I in its practical results. But the completion--I will not
venture to say, correction--of a system established by the highest
wisdom of noble ancestors, cannot be too reverently undertaken: and it
is necessary for the English people, who are sometimes violent in change
in proportion to the reluctance with which they admit its necessity, to
be now, oftener than at other times, reminded that the object of
instruction here is not primarily attainment, but discipline; and that a
youth is sent to our Universities, not (hitherto at least) to be
apprenticed to a trade, nor even always to be advanced in a profession;
but, always, to be made a gentleman and a scholar.
3. To be made these,--if there is in him the making of either. The
populaces of civilised countries have lately been under a feverish
impression that it is possible for all men to be both; and that having
once become, by passing through certain mechanical processes of
instruction, gentle and learned, they are sure to attain in the sequel
the consummate beatitude of being rich.
Rich, in the way and measure in which it is well for them to be so, they
may, without doubt, _all_ become. There is indeed a land of Havilah open
to them, of which the wonderful sentence is literally true--"The gold of
_that_ land is good." But they must first understand, that education, in
its deepest sense, is not the equaliser, but the discerner, of men;[1]
and that, so far from being instruments for the collection of riches,
the first lesson of wisdom is to disdain them, and of gentleness, to
diffuse.
[Footnote 1: The full meaning of this sentence, and of that which closes
the paragraph, can only be understood by reference to my more developed
statements on the subject of Education in "Modern Painters" and in "Time
and Tide." The following fourth paragraph is the most pregnant summary
of my political and social principles I have ever been able to give.]
It is not therefore, as far as we can judge, yet possible for all men to
be gentlemen and scholars. Even under the best training some will remain
too selfish to refuse wealth, and some too dull to desire leisure. But
many more might be so than are now; nay, perhaps all men in England
might one day be so, if England truly desired her supremacy among the
nations to be in kindness and in learning. To which good end, it will
indeed contribute that we add some practice of the lower arts to our
scheme of University education; but the thing which is vitally necessary
is, that we should extend the spirit of University education to the
practice of the lower arts.
4. And, above all, it is needful that we do this by redeeming them from
their present pain of self-contempt, and by giving them _rest_. It has
been too long boasted as the pride of England, that out of a vast
multitude of men, confessed to be in evil case, it was possible for
individuals, by strenuous effort, and rare good fortune, occasionally to
emerge into the light, and look back with self-gratulatory scorn upon
the occupations of their parents, and the circumstances of their
infancy. Ought we not rather to aim at an ideal of national life, when,
of the employments of Englishmen, though each shall be distinct, none
shall be unhappy or ignoble; when mechanical operations, acknowledged to
be debasing in their tendency,[2] shall be deputed to less fortunate and
more covetous races; when advance from rank to rank, though possible to
all men, may be rather shunned than desired by the best; and the chief
object in the mind of every citizen may not be extrication from a
condition admitted to be disgraceful, but fulfilment of a duty which
shall be also a birthright?
[Footnote 2: "+technai epirretoi+," compare page 81.]
5. And then, the training of all these distinct classes will not be by
Universities of general knowledge, but by distinct schools of such
knowledge as shall be most useful for every class: in which, first the
principles of their special business may be perfectly taught, and
whatever higher learning, and cultivation of the faculties for receiving
and giving pleasure, may be properly joined with that labour, taught in
connection with it. Thus, I do not despair of seeing a School of
Agriculture, with its fully-endowed institutes of zoology, botany, and
chemistry; and a School of Mercantile Seamanship, with its institutes of
astronomy, meteorology, and natural history of the sea: and, to name
only one of the finer, I do not say higher, arts, we shall, I hope, in a
little time, have a perfect school of Metal-work, at the head of which
will be, not the ironmasters, but the goldsmiths: and therein, I
believe, that artists, being taught how to deal wisely with the most
precious of metals, will take into due government the uses of all
others.
But I must not permit myself to fail in the estimate of my immediate
duty, while I debate what that duty may hereafter become in the hands of
others; and I will therefore now, so far as I am able, lay before you a
brief general view of the existing state of the arts in England, and of
the influence which her Universities, through these newly-founded
lectureships, may, I hope, bring to bear upon it for good.
6. We have first to consider the impulse which has been given to the
practice of all the arts by the extension of our commerce, and enlarged
means of intercourse with foreign nations, by which we now become more
familiarly acquainted with their works in past and in present times. The
immediate result of these new opportunities, I regret to say, has been
to make us more jealous of the genius of others, than conscious of the
limitations of our own; and to make us rather desire to enlarge our
wealth by the sale of art, than to elevate our enjoyments by its
acquisition.
Now, whatever efforts we make, with a true desire to produce, and
possess, things that are intrinsically beautiful, have in them at least
one of the essential elements of success. But efforts having origin only
in the hope of enriching ourselves by the sale of our productions, are
_assuredly_ condemned to dishonourable failure; not because, ultimately,
a well-trained nation is forbidden to profit by the exercise of its
peculiar art-skill; but because that peculiar art-skill can never be
developed _with a view_ to profit. The right fulfilment of national
power in art depends always on THE DIRECTION OF ITS AIM BY THE
EXPERIENCE OF AGES. Self-knowledge is not less difficult, nor less
necessary for the direction of its genius, to a people than to an
individual; and it is neither to be acquired by the eagerness of
unpractised pride, nor during the anxieties of improvident distress. No
nation ever had, or will have, the power of suddenly developing, under
the pressure of necessity, faculties it had neglected when it was at
ease; nor of teaching itself in poverty, the skill to produce, what it
has never, in opulence, had the sense to admire.
7. Connected also with some of the worst parts of our social system, but
capable of being directed to better result than this commercial
endeavour, we see lately a most powerful impulse given to the production
of costly works of art, by the various causes which promote the sudden
accumulation of wealth in the hands of private persons. We have thus a
vast and new patronage, which, in its present agency, is injurious to
our schools; but which is nevertheless in a great degree earnest and
conscientious, and far from being influenced chiefly by motives of
ostentation. Most of our rich men would be glad to promote the true
interests of art in this country: and even those who buy for vanity,
found their vanity on the possession of what they suppose to be best.
It is therefore in a great measure the fault of artists themselves if
they suffer from this partly unintelligent, but thoroughly
well-intended, patronage. If they seek to attract it by eccentricity, to
deceive it by superficial qualities, or take advantage of it by
thoughtless and facile production, they necessarily degrade themselves
and it together, and have no right to complain afterwards that it will
not acknowledge better-grounded claims. But if every painter of real
power would do only what he knew to be worthy of himself, and refuse to
be involved in the contention for undeserved or accidental success,
there is indeed, whatever may have been thought or said to the contrary,
true instinct enough in the public mind to follow such firm guidance. It
is one of the facts which the experience of thirty years enables me to
assert without qualification, that a really good picture is ultimately
always approved and bought, unless it is wilfully rendered offensive to
the public by faults which the artist has been either too proud to
abandon or too weak to correct.
8. The development of whatever is healthful and serviceable in the two
modes of impulse which we have been considering, depends however,
ultimately, on the direction taken by the true interest in art which has
lately been aroused by the great and active genius of many of our
living, or but lately lost, painters, sculptors, and architects. It may
perhaps surprise, but I think it will please you to hear me, or (if you
will forgive me, in my own Oxford, the presumption of fancying that some
may recognise me by an old name) to hear the author of "Modern Painters"
say, that his chief error in earlier days was not in over estimating,
but in too slightly acknowledging the merit of living men. The great
painter whose power, while he was yet among us, I was able to perceive,
was the first to reprove me for my disregard of the skill of his
fellow-artists; and, with this inauguration of the study of the art of
all time,--a study which can only by true modesty end in wise
admiration,--it is surely well that I connect the record of these words
of his, spoken then too truly to myself, and true always more or less
for all who are untrained in that toil,--"You don't know how difficult
it is."
You will not expect me, within the compass of this lecture, to give you
any analysis of the many kinds of excellent art (in all the three great
divisions) which the complex demands of modern life, and yet more varied
instincts of modern genius, have developed for pleasure or service. It
must be my endeavour, in conjunction with my colleagues in the other
Universities, hereafter to enable you to appreciate these worthily; in
the hope that also the members of the Royal Academy, and those of the
Institute of British Architects, may be induced to assist, and guide,
the efforts of the Universities, by organising such a system of
art-education for their own students, as shall in future prevent the
waste of genius in any mistaken endeavours; especially removing doubt as
to the proper substance and use of materials; and requiring compliance
with certain elementary principles of right, in every picture and design
exhibited with their sanction. It is not indeed possible for talent so
varied as that of English artists to be compelled into the formalities
of a determined school; but it must certainly be the function of every
academical body to see that their younger students are guarded from what
must in every school be error; and that they are practised in the best
methods of work hitherto known, before their ingenuity is directed to
the invention of others.
9. I need scarcely refer, except for the sake of completeness in my
statement, to one form of demand for art which is wholly unenlightened,
and powerful only for evil;--namely, the demand of the classes occupied
solely in the pursuit of pleasure, for objects and modes of art that can
amuse indolence or excite passion. There is no need for any discussion
of these requirements, or of their forms of influence, though they are
very deadly at present in their operation on sculpture, and on
jewellers' work. They cannot be checked by blame, nor guided by
instruction; they are merely the necessary result of whatever defects
exist in the temper and principles of a luxurious society; and it is
only by moral changes, not by art-criticism, that their action can be
modified.
10. Lastly, there is a continually increasing demand for popular art,
multipliable by the printing-press, illustrative of daily events, of
general literature, and of natural science. Admirable skill, and some of
the best talent of modern times, are occupied in supplying this want;
and there is no limit to the good which may be effected by rightly
taking advantage of the powers we now possess of placing good and lovely
art within the reach of the poorest classes. Much has been already
accomplished; but great harm has been done also,--first, by forms of art
definitely addressed to depraved tastes; and, secondly, in a more subtle
way, by really beautiful and useful engravings which are yet not good
enough to retain their influence on the public mind;--which weary it by
redundant quantity of monotonous average excellence, and diminish or
destroy its power of accurate attention to work of a higher order.
Especially this is to be regretted in the effect produced on the schools
of line engraving, which had reached in England an executive skill of a
kind before unexampled, and which of late have lost much of their more
sterling and legitimate methods. Still, I have seen plates produced
quite recently, more beautiful, I think, in some qualities than anything
ever before attained by the burin: and I have not the slightest fear
that photography, or any other adverse or competitive operation, will in
the least ultimately diminish,--I believe they will, on the contrary,
stimulate and exalt--the grand old powers of the wood and the steel.
11. Such are, I think, briefly the present conditions of art with which
we have to deal; and I conceive it to be the function of this
Professorship, with respect to them, to establish both a practical and
critical school of fine art for English gentlemen: practical, so that if
they draw at all, they may draw rightly; and critical, so that being
first directed to such works of existing art as will best reward their
study, they may afterwards make their patronage of living artists
delightful to themselves in their consciousness of its justice, and, to
the utmost, beneficial to their country, by being given to the men who
deserve it; in the early period of their lives, when they both need it
most, and can be influenced by it to the best advantage.
12. And especially with reference to this function of patronage, I
believe myself justified in taking into account future probabilities as
to the character and range of art in England: and I shall endeavour at
once to organise with you a system of study calculated to develop
chiefly the knowledge of those branches in which the English schools
have shown, and are likely to show, peculiar excellence.
Now, in asking your sanction both for the nature of the general plans I
wish to adopt, and for what I conceive to be necessary limitations of
them, I wish you to be fully aware of my reasons for both: and I will
therefore risk the burdening of your patience while I state the
directions of effort in which I think English artists are liable to
failure, and those also in which past experience has shown they are
secure of success.
13. I referred, but now, to the effort we are making to improve the
designs of our manufactures. Within certain limits I believe this
improvement may indeed take effect: so that we may no more humour
momentary fashions by ugly results of chance instead of design; and may
produce both good tissues, of harmonious colours, and good forms and
substance of pottery and glass. But we shall never excel in decorative
design. Such design is usually produced by people of great natural
powers of mind, who have no variety of subjects to employ themselves on,
no oppressive anxieties, and are in circumstances either of natural
scenery or of daily life, which cause pleasurable excitement. _We_
cannot design, because we have too much to think of, and we think of it
too anxiously. It has long been observed how little real anxiety exists
in the minds of the partly savage races which excel in decorative art;
and we must not suppose that the temper of the Middle Ages was a
troubled one, because every day brought its danger or its change. The
very eventfulness of the life rendered it careless, as generally is
still the case with soldiers and sailors. Now, when there are great
powers of thought, and little to think of, all the waste energy and
fancy are thrown into the manual work, and you have so much intellect as
would direct the affairs of a large mercantile concern for a day, spent
all at once, quite unconsciously, in drawing an ingenious spiral.
Also, powers of doing fine ornamental work are only to be reached by a
perpetual discipline of the hand as well as of the fancy; discipline as
attentive and painful as that which a juggler has to put himself
through, to overcome the more palpable difficulties of his profession.
The execution of the best artists is always a splendid tour-de-force;
and much that in painting is supposed to be dependent on material is
indeed only a lovely and quite inimitable legerdemain. Now, when powers
of fancy, stimulated by this triumphant precision of manual dexterity,
descend uninterruptedly from generation to generation, you have at last,
what is not so much a trained artist, as a new species of animal, with
whose instinctive gifts you have no chance of contending. And thus all
our imitations of other people's work are futile. We must learn first to
make honest English wares, and afterwards to decorate them as may please
the then approving Graces.
14. Secondly--and this is an incapacity of a graver kind, yet having its
own good in it also--we shall never be successful in the highest fields
of ideal or theological art.
For there is one strange, but quite essential, character in us: ever
since the Conquest, if not earlier:--a delight in the forms of burlesque
which are connected in some degree with the foulness of evil. I think
the most perfect type of a true English mind in its best possible
temper, is that of Chaucer; and you will find that, while it is for the
most part full of thoughts of beauty, pure and wild like that of an
April morning, there are even in the midst of this, sometimes
momentarily jesting passages which stoop to play with evil--while the
power of listening to and enjoying the jesting of entirely gross
persons, whatever the feeling may be which permits it, afterwards
degenerates into forms of humour which render some of quite the
greatest, wisest, and most moral of English writers now almost useless
for our youth. And yet you will find that whenever Englishmen are wholly
without this instinct, their genius is comparatively weak and
restricted.