{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_19980/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_19980","id":"gutenberg_19980","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19980","summary":null,"tags":["Art","Category: Art","Category: Philosophy & Ethics"],"text":"Produced by Chuck Greif, Paul Murray and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                 \"A JOY FOR EVER\";\n          (AND ITS PRICE IN THE MARKET):\n                      BEING\n          THE SUBSTANCE (WITH ADDITIONS)\n                        OF\n    TWO LECTURES ON THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF ART,\n  _Delivered at Manchester, July 10th and 13th, 1857._\n\n                        BY\n\n               JOHN RUSKIN, LL.D.,\n\n HONORARY STUDENT OF CHRIST CHURCH, AND HONORARY FELLOW\n        OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, OXFORD.\n\n     \"A thing of beauty is a joy for ever.\"--KEATS.\n\n               SIXTEENTH THOUSAND.\n                    LONDON:\n     GEORGE ALLEN, 156, CHARING CROSS ROAD.\n                     1904.\n             [_All rights reserved_]\n       Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.\n            At the Ballantyne Press\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\nTO THE RE-ISSUE OF 1880.\n\n\nThe title of this book,--or, more accurately, of its subject;--for no\nauthor was ever less likely than I have lately become, to hope for\nperennial pleasure to his readers from what has cost himself the most\npains,--will be, perhaps, recognised by some as the last clause of the\nline chosen from Keats by the good folks of Manchester, to be written in\nletters of gold on the cornice, or Holy rood, of the great Exhibition\nwhich inaugurated the career of so many,--since organized, by both\nforeign governments and our own, to encourage the production of works of\nart, which the producing nations, so far from intending to be their \"joy\nfor ever,\" only hope to sell as soon as possible. Yet the motto was\nchosen with uncomprehended felicity: for there never was, nor can be,\nany essential beauty possessed by a work of art, which is not based on\nthe conception of its honoured permanence, and local influence, as a\npart of appointed and precious furniture, either in the cathedral, the\nhouse, or the joyful thoroughfare, of nations which enter their gates\nwith thanksgiving, and their courts with praise.\n\n\"Their\" courts--or \"His\" courts;--in the mind of such races, the\nexpressions are synonymous: and the habits of life which recognise the\ndelightfulness, confess also the sacredness, of homes nested round the\nseat of a worship unshaken by insolent theory: themselves founded on an\nabiding affection for the past, and care for the future; and approached\nby paths open only to the activities of honesty, and traversed only by\nthe footsteps of peace.\n\nThe exposition of these truths, to which I have given the chief energy\nof my life, will be found in the following pages first undertaken\nsystematically and in logical sequence; and what I have since written on\nthe political influence of the Arts has been little more than the\nexpansion of these first lectures, in the reprint of which not a\nsentence is omitted or changed.\n\nThe supplementary papers added contain, in briefest form, the aphorisms\nrespecting principles of art-teaching of which the attention I gave to\nthis subject during the continuance of my Professorship at Oxford\nconfirms me in the earnest and contented re-assertion.\n\nJOHN RUSKIN,\n\nBRANTWOOD,\n\n_April 29th, 1880._\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\nTO THE 1857 EDITION.\n\n\nThe greater part of the following treatise remains in the exact form in\nwhich it was read at Manchester; but the more familiar passages of it,\nwhich were trusted to extempore delivery, have been written with greater\nexplicitness and fulness than I could give them in speaking; and a\nconsiderable number of notes are added, to explain the points which\ncould not be sufficiently considered in the time I had at my disposal in\nthe lecture room.\n\nSome apology may be thought due to the reader, for an endeavour to\nengage his attention on a subject of which no profound study seems\ncompatible with the work in which I am usually employed. But profound\nstudy is not, in this case, necessary either to writer or readers,\nwhile accurate study, up to a certain point, is necessary for us all.\nPolitical economy means, in plain English, nothing more than \"citizen's\neconomy\"; and its first principles ought, therefore, to be understood by\nall who mean to take the responsibility of citizens, as those of\nhousehold economy by all who take the responsibility of householders.\nNor are its first principles in the least obscure: they are, many of\nthem, disagreeable in their practical requirements, and people in\ngeneral pretend that they cannot understand, because they are unwilling\nto obey them: or rather, by habitual disobedience, destroy their\ncapacity of understanding them. But there is not one of the really great\nprinciples of the science which is either obscure or disputable,--which\nmight not be taught to a youth as soon as he can be trusted with an\nannual allowance, or to a young lady as soon as she is of age to be\ntaken into counsel by the housekeeper.\n\nI might, with more appearance of justice, be blamed for thinking it\nnecessary to enforce what everybody is supposed to know. But this fault\nwill hardly be found with me, while the commercial events recorded daily\nin our journals, and still more the explanations attempted to be given\nof them, show that a large number of our so-called merchants are as\nignorant of the nature of money as they are reckless, unjust, and\nunfortunate in its employment.\n\nThe statements of economical principles given in the text, though I know\nthat most, if not all, of them are accepted by existing authorities on\nthe science, are not supported by references, because I have never read\nany author on political economy, except Adam Smith, twenty years ago.\nWhenever I have taken up any modern book upon this subject, I have\nusually found it encumbered with inquiries into accidental or minor\ncommercial results, for the pursuit of which an ordinary reader could\nhave no leisure, and by the complication of which, it seemed to me, the\nauthors themselves had been not unfrequently prevented from seeing to\nthe root of the business.\n\nFinally, if the reader should feel induced to blame me for too sanguine\na statement of future possibilities in political practice, let him\nconsider how absurd it would have appeared in the days of Edward I. if\nthe present state of social economy had been then predicted as\nnecessary, or even described as possible. And I believe the advance from\nthe days of Edward I. to our own, great as it is confessedly, consists,\nnot so much in what we have actually accomplished, as in what we are now\nenabled to conceive.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nLECTURE I.\n                                                          PAGE\nTHE DISCOVERY AND APPLICATION OF ART                         1\n\n_A Lecture delivered at Manchester, July 10th, 1857._\n\n\nLECTURE II.\n\nTHE ACCUMULATION AND DISTRIBUTION OF ART                     70\n\n_Continuation of the previous Lecture; delivered\nJuly 13th, 1857._\n\n\nADDENDA.\n\nNOTE 1.--\"FATHERLY AUTHORITY\"                      151\n     \"        2.--\"RIGHT TO PUBLIC SUPPORT\"                 159\n     \"        3.--\"TRIAL SCHOOLS\"                           169\n     \"        4.--\"PUBLIC FAVOUR\"                           180\n     \"        5.--\"INVENTION OF NEW WANTS\"                  183\n     \"        6.--\"ECONOMY OF LITERATURE\"                   187\n     \"        7.--\"PILOTS OF THE STATE\"                     189\n     \"        8.--\"SILK AND PURPLE\"                         193\n\n\nSUPPLEMENTARY ADDITIONAL PAPERS.\n\nEDUCATION IN ART                                            213\n\nART SCHOOL NOTES                                            229\n\nSOCIAL POLICY                                               240\n\n\n\n\n\"A JOY FOR EVER.\"\n\n\n\n\nLECTURE I.\n\nTHE DISCOVERY AND APPLICATION OF ART.\n\n_A Lecture delivered at Manchester, July 10, 1857._\n\n\n1. Among the various characteristics of the age in which we live, as\ncompared with other ages of this not yet _very_ experienced world, one\nof the most notable appears to me to be the just and wholesome contempt\nin which we hold poverty. I repeat, the _just_ and _wholesome_ contempt;\nthough I see that some of my hearers look surprised at the expression. I\nassure them, I use it in sincerity; and I should not have ventured to\nask you to listen to me this evening, unless I had entertained a\nprofound respect for wealth--true wealth, that is to say; for, of\ncourse, we ought to respect neither wealth nor anything else that is\nfalse of its kind: and the distinction between real and false wealth is\none of the points on which I shall have a few words presently to say to\nyou. But true wealth I hold, as I said, in great honour; and sympathize,\nfor the most part, with that extraordinary feeling of the present age\nwhich publicly pays this honour to riches.\n\n\n2. I cannot, however, help noticing how extraordinary it is, and how\nthis epoch of ours differs from all bygone epochs in having no\nphilosophical nor religious worshippers of the ragged godship of\npoverty. In the classical ages, not only were there people who\nvoluntarily lived in tubs, and who used gravely to maintain the\nsuperiority of tub-life to town-life, but the Greeks and Latins seem to\nhave looked on these eccentric, and I do not scruple to say, absurd\npeople, with as much respect as we do upon large capitalists and landed\nproprietors; so that really, in those days, no one could be described as\npurse proud, but only as empty-purse proud. And no less distinct than\nthe honour which those curious Greek people pay to their conceited poor,\nis the disrespectful manner in which they speak of the rich; so that\none cannot listen long either to them, or to the Roman writers who\nimitated them, without finding oneself entangled in all sorts of\nplausible absurdities; hard upon being convinced of the uselessness of\ncollecting that heavy yellow substance which we call gold, and led\ngenerally to doubt all the most established maxims of political economy.\n\n\n3. Nor are matters much better in the Middle Ages. For the Greeks and\nRomans contented themselves with mocking at rich people, and\nconstructing merry dialogues between Charon and Diogenes or Menippus, in\nwhich the ferryman and the cynic rejoiced together as they saw kings and\nrich men coming down to the shore of Acheron, in lamenting and\nlamentable crowds, casting their crowns into the dark waters, and\nsearching, sometimes in vain, for the last coin out of all their\ntreasures that could ever be of use to them.\n\n\n4. But these Pagan views of the matter were indulgent, compared with\nthose which were held in the Middle Ages, when wealth seems to have been\nlooked upon by the best men not only as contemptible, but as criminal.\nThe purse round the neck is, then, one of the principal signs of\ncondemnation in the pictured Inferno; and the Spirit of Poverty is\nreverenced with subjection of heart, and faithfulness of affection, like\nthat of a loyal knight for his lady, or a loyal subject for his queen.\nAnd truly, it requires some boldness to quit ourselves of these\nfeelings, and to confess their partiality or their error, which,\nnevertheless, we are certainly bound to do. For wealth is simply one of\nthe greatest powers which can be entrusted to human hands: a power, not\nindeed to be envied, because it seldom makes us happy; but still less to\nbe abdicated or despised; while, in these days, and in this country, it\nhas become a power all the more notable, in that the possessions of a\nrich man are not represented, as they used to be, by wedges of gold or\ncoffers of jewels, but by masses of men variously employed, over whose\nbodies and minds the wealth, according to its direction, exercises\nharmful or helpful influence, and becomes, in that alternative, Mammon\neither of Unrighteousness or of Righteousness.\n\n\n5. Now, it seemed to me that since, in the name you have given to this\ngreat gathering of British pictures, you recognize them as\nTreasures--that is, I suppose, as part and parcel of the real wealth of\nthe country--you might not be uninterested in tracing certain commercial\nquestions connected with this particular form of wealth. Most persons\nexpress themselves as surprised at its quantity; not having known before\nto what an extent good art had been accumulated in England: and it will,\ntherefore, I should think, be held a worthy subject of consideration,\nwhat are the political interests involved in such accumulations, what\nkind of labour they represent, and how this labour may in general be\napplied and economized, so as to produce the richest results.\n\n\n6. Now, you must have patience with me, if in approaching the specialty\nof this subject, I dwell a little on certain points of general political\nscience already known or established: for though thus, as I believe,\nestablished, some which I shall have occasion to rest arguments on are\nnot yet by any means universally accepted; and therefore, though I will\nnot lose time in any detailed defence of them, it is necessary that I\nshould distinctly tell you in what form I receive, and wish to argue\nfrom them; and this the more, because there may perhaps be a part of my\naudience who have not interested themselves in political economy, as it\nbears on ordinary fields of labour, but may yet wish to hear in what way\nits principles can be applied to Art. I shall, therefore, take leave to\ntrespass on your patience with a few elementary statements in the\noutset, and with the expression of some general principles, here and\nthere, in the course of our particular inquiry.\n\n\n7. To begin, then, with one of these necessary truisms: all economy,\nwhether of states, households, or individuals, may be defined to be the\nart of managing labour. The world is so regulated by the laws of\nProvidence, that a man's labour, well applied, is always amply\nsufficient to provide him during his life with all things needful to\nhim, and not only with those, but with many pleasant objects of luxury;\nand yet farther, to procure him large intervals of healthful rest and\nserviceable leisure. And a nation's labour, well applied, is, in like\nmanner, amply sufficient to provide its whole population with good food\nand comfortable habitation; and not with those only, but with good\neducation besides, and objects of luxury, art treasures, such as these\nyou have around you now. But by those same laws of Nature and\nProvidence, if the labour of the nation or of the individual be\nmisapplied, and much more if it be insufficient,--if the nation or man\nbe indolent and unwise,--suffering and want result, exactly in\nproportion to the indolence and improvidence--to the refusal of labour,\nor to the misapplication of it. Wherever you see want, or misery, or\ndegradation, in this world about you, there, be sure, either industry\nhas been wanting, or industry has been in error. It is not accident, it\nis not Heaven-commanded calamity, it is not the original and inevitable\nevil of man's nature, which fill your streets with lamentation, and your\ngraves with prey. It is only that, when there should have been\nprovidence, there has been waste; when there should have been labour,\nthere has been lasciviousness; and wilfulness, when there should have\nbeen subordination.[1]\n\n[Note 1: Proverbs xiii. 23: \"Much food is in the tillage of the\npoor, but there is that is destroyed for want of judgment.\"]\n\n8. Now, we have warped the word \"economy\" in our English language into a\nmeaning which it has no business whatever to bear. In our use of it, it\nconstantly signifies merely sparing or saving; economy of money means\nsaving money--economy of time, sparing time, and so on. But that is a\nwholly barbarous use of the word--barbarous in a double sense, for it is\nnot English, and it is bad Greek; barbarous in a treble sense, for it is\nnot English, it is bad Greek, and it is worse sense. Economy no more\nmeans saving money than it means spending money. It means, the\nadministration of a house; its stewardship; spending or saving, that is,\nwhether money or time, or anything else, to the best possible advantage.\nIn the simplest and clearest definition of it, economy, whether public\nor private, means the wise management of labour; and it means this\nmainly in three senses: namely, first, _applying_ your labour\nrationally; secondly, _preserving_ its produce carefully; lastly,\n_distributing_ its produce seasonably.\n\n\n9. I say first, applying your labour rationally; that is, so as to\nobtain the most precious things you can, and the most lasting things, by\nit: not growing oats in land where you can grow wheat, nor putting fine\nembroidery on a stuff that will not wear. Secondly, preserving its\nproduce carefully; that is to say, laying up your wheat wisely in\nstorehouses for the time of famine, and keeping your embroidery\nwatchfully from the moth: and lastly, distributing its produce\nseasonably; that is to say, being able to carry your corn at once to the\nplace where the people are hungry, and your embroideries to the places\nwhere they are gay; so fulfilling in all ways the Wise Man's\ndescription, whether of the queenly housewife or queenly nation: \"She\nriseth while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a\nportion to her maidens. She maketh herself coverings of tapestry, her\nclothing is silk and purple. Strength and honour are in her clothing,\nand she shall rejoice in time to come.\"\n\n\n10. Now, you will observe that in this description of the perfect\neconomist, or mistress of a household, there is a studied expression of\nthe balanced division of her care between the two great objects of\nutility and splendour: in her right hand, food and flax, for life and\nclothing; in her left hand, the purple and the needlework, for honour\nand for beauty. All perfect housewifery or national economy is known by\nthese two divisions; wherever either is wanting, the economy is\nimperfect. If the motive of pomp prevails, and the care of the national\neconomist is directed only to the accumulation of gold, and of pictures,\nand of silk and marble, you know at once that the time must soon come\nwhen all these treasures shall be scattered and blasted in national\nruin. If, on the contrary, the element of utility prevails, and the\nnation disdains to occupy itself in any wise with the arts of beauty or\ndelight, not only a certain quantity of its energy calculated for\nexercise in those arts alone must be entirely wasted, which is bad\neconomy, but also the passions connected with the utilities of property\nbecome morbidly strong, and a mean lust of accumulation merely for the\nsake of accumulation, or even of labour merely for the sake of labour,\nwill banish at last the serenity and the morality of life, as\ncompletely, and perhaps more ignobly, than even the lavishness of pride,\nand the likeness of pleasure. And similarly, and much more visibly, in\nprivate and household economy, you may judge always of its perfectness\nby its fair balance between the use and the pleasure of its possessions.\nYou will see the wise cottager's garden trimly divided between its\nwell-set vegetables, and its fragrant flowers; you will see the good\nhousewife taking pride in her pretty table-cloth, and her glittering\nshelves, no less than in her well-dressed dish, and her full storeroom;\nthe care in her countenance will alternate with gaiety, and though you\nwill reverence her in her seriousness, you will know her best by her\nsmile.\n\n\n11. Now, as you will have anticipated, I am going to address you, on\nthis and our succeeding evening, chiefly on the subject of that economy\nwhich relates rather to the garden than the farm-yard. I shall ask you\nto consider with me the kind of laws by which we shall best distribute\nthe beds of our national garden, and raise in it the sweetest succession\nof trees pleasant to the sight, and (in no forbidden sense) to be\ndesired to make us wise. But, before proceeding to open this specialty\nof our subject, let me pause for a few moments to plead with you for the\nacceptance of that principle of government or authority which must be at\nthe root of all economy, whether for use or for pleasure. I said, a few\nminutes ago, that a nation's labour, well applied, was amply sufficient\nto provide its whole population with good food, comfortable clothing,\nand pleasant luxury. But the good, instant, and constant application is\neverything. We must not, when our strong hands are thrown out of work,\nlook wildly about for want of something to do with them. If ever we feel\nthat want, it is a sign that all our household is out of order. Fancy a\nfarmer's wife, to whom one or two of her servants should come at twelve\no'clock at noon, crying that they had got nothing to do; that they did\nnot know what to do next: and fancy still farther, the said farmer's\nwife looking hopelessly about her rooms and yard, they being all the\nwhile considerably in disorder, not knowing where to set the spare\nhandmaidens to work, and at last complaining bitterly that she had been\nobliged to give them their dinner for nothing. That's the type of the\nkind of political economy we practise too often in England. Would you\nnot at once assert of such a mistress that she knew nothing of her\nduties? and would you not be certain, if the household were rightly\nmanaged, the mistress would be only too glad at any moment to have the\nhelp of any number of spare hands; that she would know in an instant\nwhat to set them to;--in an instant what part of to-morrow's work might\nbe most serviceably forwarded, what part of next month's work most\nwisely provided for, or what new task of some profitable kind\nundertaken; and when the evening came, and she dismissed her servants to\ntheir recreation or their rest, or gathered them to the reading round\nthe work-table, under the eaves in the sunset, would you not be sure to\nfind that none of them had been overtasked by her, just because none had\nbeen left idle; that everything had been accomplished because all had\nbeen employed; that the kindness of the mistress had aided her presence\nof mind, and the slight labour had been entrusted to the weak, and the\nformidable to the strong; and that as none had been dishonoured by\ninactivity, so none had been broken by toil?\n\n\n12. Now, the precise counterpart of such a household would be seen in a\nnation in which political economy was rightly understood. You complain\nof the difficulty of finding work for your men. Depend upon it, the real\ndifficulty rather is to find men for your work. The serious question for\nyou is not how many you have to feed, but how much you have to do; it\nis our inactivity, not our hunger, that ruins us: let us never fear that\nour servants should have a good appetite--our wealth is in their\nstrength, not in their starvation. Look around this island of yours, and\nsee what you have to do in it. The sea roars against your harbourless\ncliffs--you have to build the breakwater, and dig the port of refuge;\nthe unclean pestilence ravins in your streets--you have to bring the\nfull stream from the hills, and to send the free winds through the\nthoroughfare; the famine blanches your lips and eats away your\nflesh--you have to dig the moor and dry the marsh, to bid the morass\ngive forth instead of engulfing, and to wring the honey and oil out of\nthe rock. These things, and thousands such, we have to do, and shall\nhave to do constantly, on this great farm of ours; for do not suppose\nthat it is anything else than that. Precisely the same laws of economy\nwhich apply to the cultivation of a farm or an estate, apply to the\ncultivation of a province or of an island. Whatever rebuke you would\naddress to the improvident master of an ill-managed patrimony,\nprecisely that rebuke we should address to ourselves, so far as we\nleave our population in idleness and our country in disorder. What would\nyou say to the lord of an estate who complained to you of his poverty\nand disabilities, and when you pointed out to him that his land was half\nof it overrun with weeds, and that his fences were all in ruin, and that\nhis cattle-sheds were roofless, and his labourers lying under the hedges\nfaint for want of food, he answered to you that it would ruin him to\nweed his land or to roof his sheds--that those were too costly\noperations for him to undertake, and that he knew not how to feed his\nlabourers nor pay them? Would you not instantly answer, that instead of\nruining him to weed his fields, it would save him; that his inactivity\nwas his destruction, and that to set his labourers to work was to feed\nthem? Now, you may add acre to acre, and estate to estate, as far as you\nlike, but you will never reach a compass of ground which shall escape\nfrom the authority of these simple laws. The principles which are right\nin the administration of a few fields, are right also in the\nadministration of a great country from horizon to horizon: idleness\ndoes not cease to be ruinous because it is extensive, nor labour to be\nproductive because it is universal.\n\n\n13. Nay, but you reply, there is one vast difference between the\nnation's economy and the private man's: the farmer has full authority\nover his labourers; he can direct them to do what is needed to be done,\nwhether they like it or not; and he can turn them away if they refuse to\nwork, or impede others in their working, or are disobedient, or\nquarrelsome. There _is_ this great difference; it is precisely this\ndifference on which I wish to fix your attention, for it is precisely\nthis difference which you have to do away with. We know the necessity of\nauthority in farm, or in fleet, or in army; but we commonly refuse to\nadmit it in the body of the nation. Let us consider this point a little.\n\n\n14. In the various awkward and unfortunate efforts which the French have\nmade at the development of a social system, they have at least stated\none true principle, that of fraternity or brotherhood. Do not be\nalarmed; they got all wrong in their experiments, because they quite\nforgot that this fact of fraternity implied another fact quite as\nimportant--that of paternity, or fatherhood. That is to say, if they\nwere to regard the nation as one family, the condition of unity in that\nfamily consisted no less in their having a head, or a father, than in\ntheir being faithful and affectionate members, or brothers. But we must\nnot forget this, for we have long confessed it with our lips, though we\nrefuse to confess it in our lives. For half an hour every Sunday we\nexpect a man in a black gown, supposed to be telling us truth, to\naddress us as brethren, though we should be shocked at the notion of any\nbrotherhood existing among us out of church. And we can hardly read a\nfew sentences on any political subject without running a chance of\ncrossing the phrase \"paternal government,\" though we should be utterly\nhorror-struck at the idea of governments claiming anything like a\nfather's authority over us. Now, I believe those two formal phrases are\nin both instances perfectly binding and accurate, and that the image of\nthe farm and its servants which I have hitherto used, as expressing a\nwholesome national organization, fails only of doing so, not because it\nis too domestic, but because it is not domestic enough; because the real\ntype of a well-organized nation must be presented, not by a farm\ncultivated by servants who wrought for hire, and might be turned away if\nthey refused to labour, but by a farm in which the master was a father,\nand in which all the servants were sons; which implied, therefore, in\nall its regulations, not merely the order of expediency, but the bonds\nof affection and responsibilities of relationship; and in which all acts\nand services were not only to be sweetened by brotherly concord, but to\nbe enforced by fatherly authority.[2]\n\n[Note 2: See note 1st, in Addenda.]\n\n15. Observe, I do not mean in the least that we ought to place such an\nauthority in the hands of any one person, or of any class or body of\npersons. But I do mean to say that as an individual who conducts himself\nwisely must make laws for himself which at some time or other may appear\nirksome or injurious, but which, precisely at the time they appear most\nirksome, it is most necessary he should obey, so a nation which means to\nconduct itself wisely, must establish authority over itself, vested\neither in kings, councils, or laws, which it must resolve to obey, even\nat times when the law or authority appears irksome to the body of the\npeople, or injurious to certain masses of it. And this kind of national\nlaw has hitherto been only judicial; contented, that is, with an\nendeavour to prevent and punish violence and crime: but, as we advance\nin our social knowledge, we shall endeavour to make our government\npaternal as well as judicial; that is, to establish such laws and\nauthorities as may at once direct us in our occupations, protect us\nagainst our follies, and visit us in our distresses: a government which\nshall repress dishonesty, as now it punishes theft; which shall show how\nthe discipline of the masses may be brought to aid the toils of peace,\nas discipline of the masses has hitherto knit the sinews of battle; a\ngovernment which shall have its soldiers of the ploughshare as well as\nits soldiers of the sword, and which shall distribute more proudly its\ngolden crosses of industry--golden as the glow of the harvest, than now\nit grants its bronze crosses of honour--bronzed with the crimson of\nblood.\n\n\n16. I have not, of course, time to insist on the nature or details of\ngovernment of this kind; only I wish to plead for your several and\nfuture consideration of this one truth, that the notion of Discipline\nand Interference lies at the very root of all human progress or power;\nthat the \"Let-alone\" principle is, in all things which man has to do\nwith, the principle of death; that it is ruin to him, certain and total,\nif he lets his land alone--if he lets his fellow-men alone--if he lets\nhis own soul alone. That his whole life, on the contrary, must, if it is\nhealthy life, be continually one of ploughing and pruning, rebuking and\nhelping, governing and punishing; and that therefore it is only in the\nconcession of some great principle of restraint and interference in\nnational action that he can ever hope to find the secret of protection\nagainst national degradation. I believe that the masses have a right to\nclaim education from their government; but only so far as they\nacknowledge the duty of yielding obedience to their government. I\nbelieve they have a right to claim employment from their governors; but\nonly so far as they yield to the governor the direction and discipline\nof their labour; and it is only so far as they grant to the men whom\nthey may set over them the father's authority to check the\nchildishnesses of national fancy, and direct the waywardnesses of\nnational energy, that they have a right to ask that none of their\ndistresses should be unrelieved, none of their weaknesses unwatched; and\nthat no grief, nor nakedness, nor peril, should exist for them, against\nwhich the father's hand was not outstretched, or the father's shield\nuplifted.[3]\n\n[Note 3: Compare Wordsworth's Essay on the Poor Law Amendment Bill.\nI quote one important passage: \"But, if it be not safe to touch the\nabstract question of man's right in a social state to help himself even\nin the last extremity, may we not still contend for the duty of a\nChristian government, standing _in loco parentis_ towards all its\nsubjects, to make such effectual provision that no one shall be in\ndanger of perishing either through the neglect or harshness of its\nlegislation? Or, waiving this, is it not indisputable that the claim of\nthe State to the allegiance, involves the protection of the subject?\nAnd, as all rights in one party impose a correlative duty upon another,\nit follows that the right of the State to require the services of its\nmembers, even to the jeopardizing of their lives in the common defence,\nestablishes a right in the people (not to be gainsaid by utilitarians\nand economists) to public support when, from any cause, they may be\nunable to support themselves.\"--(See note 2nd, in Addenda.)]\n\n17. Now, I have pressed this upon you at more length than is needful or\nproportioned to our present purposes of inquiry, because I would not for\nthe first time speak to you on this subject of political economy without\nclearly stating what I believe to be its first grand principle. But its\nbearing on the matter in hand is chiefly to prevent you from at once too\nviolently dissenting from me when what I may state to you as advisable\neconomy in art appears to imply too much restraint or interference with\nthe freedom of the patron or artist. We are a little apt, though on the\nwhole a prudent nation, to act too immediately on our impulses, even in\nmatters merely commercial; much more in those involving continual\nappeals to our fancies. How far, therefore, the proposed systems or\nrestraints may be advisable, it is for you to judge; only I pray you not\nto be offended with them merely because they _are_ systems and\nrestraints.\n\n\n18. Do you at all recollect that interesting passage of Carlyle, in\nwhich he compares, in this country and at this day, the understood and\ncommercial value of man and horse; and in which he wonders that the\nhorse, with its inferior brains and its awkward hoofiness, instead of\nhandiness, should be always worth so many tens or scores of pounds in\nthe market, while the man, so far from always commanding his price in\nthe market, would often be thought to confer a service on the community\nby simply killing himself out of their way? Well, Carlyle does not\nanswer his own question, because he supposes we shall at once see the\nanswer. The value of the horse consists simply in the fact of your being\nable to put a bridle on him. The value of the man consists precisely in\nthe same thing. If you can bridle him, or, which is better, if he can\nbridle himself, he will be a valuable creature directly. Otherwise, in a\ncommercial point of view, his value is either nothing, or accidental\nonly. Only, of course, the proper bridle of man is not a leathern one:\nwhat kind of texture it is rightly made of, we find from that command,\n\"Be ye not as the horse or as the mule which have no understanding,\nwhose mouths must be held in with bit and bridle.\" You are not to be\nwithout the reins, indeed; but they are to be of another kind: \"I will\nguide thee with mine Eye.\" So the bridle of man is to be the Eye of God;\nand if he rejects that guidance, then the next best for him is the\nhorse's and the mule's, which have no understanding; and if he rejects\nthat, and takes the bit fairly in his teeth, then there is nothing left\nfor him than the blood that comes out of the city, up to the\nhorse-bridles.\n\n\n19. Quitting, however, at last these general and serious laws of\ngovernment--or rather bringing them down to our own business in hand--we\nhave to consider three points of discipline in that particular branch of\nhuman labour which is concerned, not with procuring of food, but the\nexpression of emotion; we have to consider respecting art: first, how to\napply our labour to it; then, how to accumulate or preserve the results\nof labour; and then, how to distribute them. But since in art the labour\nwhich we have to employ is the labour of a particular class of men--men\nwho have special genius for the business--we have not only to consider\nhow to apply the labour, but, first of all, how to produce the labourer;\nand thus the question in this particular case becomes fourfold: first,\nhow to get your man of genius; then, how to employ your man of genius;\nthen, how to accumulate and preserve his work in the greatest quantity;\nand, lastly, how to distribute his work to the best national advantage.\nLet us take up these questions in succession.\n\n\n20. I. Discovery.--How are we to get our men of genius: that is to say,\nby what means may we produce among us, at any given time, the greatest\nquantity of effective art-intellect? A wide question, you say, involving\nan account of all the best means of art education. Yes, but I do not\nmean to go into the consideration of those; I want only to state the few\nprinciples which lie at the foundation of the matter. Of these, the\nfirst is that you have always to find your artist, not to make him; you\ncan't manufacture him, any more than you can manufacture gold. You can\nfind him, and refine him: you dig him out as he lies nugget-fashion in\nthe mountain-stream; you bring him home; and you make him into current\ncoin, or household plate, but not one grain of him can you originally\nproduce. A certain quantity of art-intellect is born annually in every\nnation, greater or less according to the nature and cultivation of the\nnation, or race of men; but a perfectly fixed quantity annually, not\nincreasable by one grain. You may lose it, or you may gather it; you may\nlet it lie loose in the ravine, and buried in the sands, or you may make\nkings' thrones of it, and overlay temple gates with it, as you choose:\nbut the best you can do with it is always merely sifting, melting,\nhammering, purifying--never creating.\n\n\n21. And there is another thing notable about this artistical gold; not\nonly is it limited in quantity, but in use. You need not make thrones or\ngolden gates with it unless you like, but assuredly you can't do\nanything else with it. You can't make knives of it, nor armour, nor\nrailroads. The gold won't cut you, and it won't carry you: put it to a\nmechanical use, and you destroy it at once. It is quite true that in the\ngreatest artists, their proper artistical faculty is united with every\nother; and you may make use of the other faculties, and let the\nartistical one lie dormant. For aught I know, there may be two or three\nLeonardo da Vincis employed at this moment in your harbours and\nrailroads: but you are not employing their Leonardesque or golden\nfaculty there,--you are only oppressing and destroying it. And the\nartistical gift in average men is not joined with others: your born\npainter, if you don't make a painter of him, won't be a first-rate\nmerchant, or lawyer; at all events, whatever he turns out, his own\nspecial gift is unemployed by you; and in no wise helps him in that\nother business. So here you have a certain quantity of a particular sort\nof intelligence, produced for you annually by providential laws, which\nyou can only make use of by setting it to its own proper work, and which\nany attempt to use otherwise involves the dead loss of so much human\nenergy.\n\n\n22. Well then, supposing we wish to employ it, how is it to be best\ndiscovered and refined? It is easily enough discovered. To wish to\nemploy it is to discover it. All that you need is, a school of trial[4]\nin every important town, in which those idle farmers' lads whom their\nmasters never can keep out of mischief, and those stupid tailors'\n'prentices who are always stitching the sleeves in wrong way upwards,\nmay have a try at this other trade; only this school of trial must not\nbe entirely regulated by formal laws of art education, but must\nultimately be the workshop of a good master painter, who will try the\nlads with one kind of art and another, till he finds out what they are\nfit for.\n\n[Note 4: See note 3rd, in Addenda.]\n\n\n23. Next, after your trial school, you want your easy and secure\nemployment, which is the matter of chief importance. For, even on the\npresent system, the boys who have really intense art capacity, generally\nmake painters of themselves; but then, the best half of their early\nenergy is lost in the battle of life. Before a good painter can get\nemployment, his mind has always been embittered, and his genius\ndistorted. A common mind usually stoops, in plastic chill, to whatever\nis asked of it, and scrapes or daubs its way complacently into public\nfavour.[5] But your great men quarrel with you, and you revenge\nyourselves by starving them for the first half of their lives. Precisely\nin the degree in which any painter possesses original genius, is at\npresent the increase of moral certainty that during his early years he\nwill have a hard battle to fight; and that just at the time when his\nconceptions ought to be full and happy, his temper gentle, and his\nhopes enthusiastic--just at that most critical period, his heart is full\nof anxieties and household cares; he is chilled by disappointments, and\nvexed by injustice; he becomes obstinate in his errors, no less than in\nhis virtues, and the arrows of his aims are blunted, as the reeds of his\ntrust are broken.\n\n[Note 5: See note 4th, in Addenda.]\n\n\n24. What we mainly want, therefore, is a means of sufficient and\nunagitated employment: not holding out great prizes for which young\npainters are to scramble; but furnishing all with adequate support, and\nopportunity to display such power as they possess without rejection or\nmortification. I need not say that the best field of labour of this kind\nwould be presented by the constant progress of public works involving\nvarious decoration; and we will presently examine what kind of public\nworks may thus, advantageously for the nation, be in constant progress.\nBut a more important matter even than this of steady employment, is the\nkind of criticism with which you, the public, receive the works of the\nyoung men submitted to you. You may do much harm by indiscreet praise\nand by indiscreet blame; but remember the chief harm is always done by\nblame. It stands to reason that a young man's work cannot be perfect. It\n_must_ be more or less ignorant; it must be more or less feeble; it is\nlikely that it may be more or less experimental, and if experimental,\nhere and there mistaken. If, therefore, you allow yourself to launch out\ninto sudden barking at the first faults you see, the probability is that\nyou are abusing the youth for some defect naturally and inevitably\nbelonging to that stage of his progress; and that you might just as\nrationally find fault with a child for not being as prudent as a privy\ncouncillor, or with a kitten for not being as grave as a cat.\n\n\n25. But there is one fault which you may be quite sure is unnecessary,\nand therefore a real and blamable fault: that is haste, involving\nnegligence. Whenever you see that a young man's work is either bold or\nslovenly, then you may attack it firmly; sure of being right. If his\nwork is bold, it is insolent; repress his insolence: if it is slovenly,\nit is indolent; spur his indolence. So long as he works in that dashing\nor impetuous way, the best hope for him is in your contempt: and it is\nonly by the fact of his seeming not to seek your approbation that you\nmay conjecture he deserves it.\n\n\n26. But if he does deserve it, be sure that you give it him, else you\nnot only run a chance of driving him from the right road by want of\nencouragement, but you deprive yourselves of the happiest privilege you\nwill ever have of rewarding his labour. For it is only the young who can\nreceive much reward from men's praise: the old, when they are great, get\ntoo far beyond and above you to care what you think of them. You may\nurge them then with sympathy, and surround them then with acclamation;\nbut they will doubt your pleasure, and despise your praise. You might\nhave cheered them in their race through the asphodel meadows of their\nyouth; you might have brought the proud, bright scarlet into their\nfaces, if you had but cried once to them \"Well done,\" as they dashed up\nto the first goal of their early ambition. But now, their pleasure is in\nmemory, and their ambition is in heaven. They can be kind to you, but\nyou nevermore can be kind to them. You may be fed with the fruit and\nfulness of their old age, but you were as the nipping blight to them in\ntheir blossoming, and your praise is only as the warm winds of autumn\nto the dying branches.\n\n\n27. There is one thought still, the saddest of all, bearing on this\nwithholding of early help. It is possible, in some noble natures, that\nthe warmth and the affections of childhood may remain unchilled, though\nunanswered; and that the old man's heart may still be capable of\ngladness, when the long-withheld sympathy is given at last. But in these\nnoble natures it nearly always happens that the chief motive of earthly\nambition has not been to give delight to themselves, but to their\nparents. Every noble youth looks back, as to the chiefest joy which this\nworld's honour ever gave him, to the moment when first he saw his\nfather's eyes flash with pride, and his mother turn away her head, lest\nhe should take her tears for tears of sorrow. Even the lover's joy, when\nsome worthiness of his is acknowledged before his mistress, is not so\ngreat as that, for it is not so pure--the desire to exalt himself in her\neyes mixes with that of giving her delight; but he does not need to\nexalt himself in his parents' eyes: it is with the pure hope of giving\nthem pleasure that he comes to tell them what he has done, or what has\nbeen said of him; and therefore he has a purer pleasure of his own. And\nthis purest and best of rewards you keep from him if you can: you feed\nhim in his tender youth with ashes and dishonour; and then you come to\nhim, obsequious, but too late, with your sharp laurel crown, the dew all\ndried from off its leaves; and you thrust it into his languid hand, and\nhe looks at you wistfully. What shall he do with it? What can he do, but\ngo and lay it on his mother's grave?\n\n\n28. Thus, then, you see that you have to provide for your young men:\nfirst, the searching or discovering school; then the calm employment;\nthen the justice of praise: one thing more you have to do for them in\npreparing them for full service--namely, to make, in the noble sense of\nthe word, gentlemen of them; that is to say, to take care that their\nminds receive such training, that in all they paint they shall see and\nfeel the noblest things. I am sorry to say, that of all parts of an\nartist's education, this is the most neglected among us; and that even\nwhere the natural taste and feeling of the youth have been pure and\ntrue, where there was the right stuff in him to make a gentleman of, you\nmay too frequently discern some jarring rents in his mind, and elements\nof degradation in his treatment of subject, owing to want of gentle\ntraining, and of the liberal influence of literature. This is quite\nvisible in our greatest artists, even in men like Turner and\nGainsborough; while in the common grade of our second-rate painters the\nevil attains a pitch which is far too sadly manifest to need my dwelling\nupon it. Now, no branch of art economy is more important than that of\nmaking the intellect at your disposal pure as well as powerful; so that\nit may always gather for you the sweetest and fairest things. The same\nquantity of labour from the same man's hand, will, according as you have\ntrained him, produce a lovely and useful work, or a base and hurtful\none; and depend upon it, whatever value it may possess, by reason of the\npainter's skill, its chief and final value, to any nation, depends upon\nits being able to exalt and refine, as well as to please; and that the\npicture which most truly deserves the name of an art-treasure is that\nwhich has been painted by a good man.\n\n\n29. You cannot but see how far this would lead, if I were to enlarge\nupon it. I must take it up as a separate subject some other time: only\nnoticing at present that no money could be better spent by a nation than\nin providing a liberal and disciplined education for its painters, as\nthey advance into the critical period of their youth; and that, also, a\nlarge part of their power during life depends upon the kind of subjects\nwhich you, the public, ask them for, and therefore the kind of thoughts\nwith which you require them to be habitually familiar. I shall have more\nto say on this head when we come to consider what employment they should\nhave in public buildings.\n\n\n30. There are many other points of nearly as much importance as these,\nto be explained with reference to the development of genius; but I\nshould have to ask you to come and hear six lectures instead of two if I\nwere to go into their detail. For instance, I have not spoken of the way\nin which you ought to look for those artificers in various manual\ntrades, who, without possessing the order of genius which you would\ndesire to devote to higher purposes, yet possess wit, and humour, and\nsense of colour, and fancy for form--all commercially valuable as\nquantities of intellect, and all more or less expressible in the lower\narts of iron-work, pottery, decorative sculpture, and such like. But\nthese details, interesting as they are, I must commend to your own\nconsideration, or leave for some future inquiry. I want just now only to\nset the bearings of the entire subject broadly before you, with enough\nof detailed illustration to make it intelligible; and therefore I must\nquit the first head of it here, and pass to the second--namely, how best\nto employ the genius we discover. A certain quantity of able hands and\nheads being placed at our disposal, what shall we most advisably set\nthem upon?\n\n\n31. II. APPLICATION.--There are three main points the economist has to\nattend to in this.\n\nFirst, To set his men to various work.\n\nSecondly, To easy work.\n\nThirdly, To lasting work.\n\nI shall briefly touch on the first two, for I want to arrest your\nattention on the last.\n\n\n32. I say first to various work. Supposing you have two men of equal\npower as landscape painters--and both of them have an hour at your\ndisposal. You would not set them both to paint the same piece of\nlandscape. You would, of course, rather have two subjects than a\nrepetition of one.\n\nWell, supposing them sculptors, will not the same rule hold? You\nnaturally conclude at once that it will; but you will have hard work to\nconvince your modern architects of that. They will put twenty men to\nwork, to carve twenty capitals; and all shall be the same. If I could\nshow you the architects' yards in England just now, all open at once,\nperhaps you might see a thousand clever men, all employed in carving the\nsame design. Of the degradation and deathfulness to the art-intellect of\nthe country involved in such a habit, I have more or less been led to\nspeak before now; but I have not hitherto marked its definite tendency\nto increase the price of _work_, as such. When men are employed\ncontinually in carving the same ornaments, they get into a monotonous\nand methodical habit of labour--precisely correspondent to that in which\nthey would break stones, or paint house-walls. Of course, what they do\nso constantly, they do easily; and if you excite them temporarily by an\nincrease of wages, you may get much work done by them in a little time.\nBut, unless so stimulated, men condemned to a monotonous exertion,\nwork--and always, by the laws of human nature, _must_ work--only at a\ntranquil rate, not producing by any means a maximum result in a given\ntime. But if you allow them to vary their designs, and thus interest\ntheir heads and hearts in what they are doing, you will find them become\neager, first, to get their ideas expressed, and then to finish the\nexpression of them; and the moral energy thus brought to bear on the\nmatter quickens, and therefore cheapens, the production in a most\nimportant degree. Sir Thomas Deane, the architect of the new Museum at\nOxford, told me, as I passed through Oxford on my way here, that he\nfound that, owing to this cause alone, capitals of various design could\nbe executed cheaper than capitals of similar design (the amount of hand\nlabour in each being the same) by about 30 per cent.\n\n\n33. Well, that is the first way, then, in which you will employ your\nintellect well; and the simple observance of this plain rule of\npolitical economy will effect a noble revolution in your architecture,\nsuch as you cannot at present so much as conceive. Then the second way\nin which we are to guard against waste is by setting our men to the\neasiest, and therefore the quickest, work which will answer the purpose.\nMarble, for instance, lasts quite as long as granite, and is much softer\nto work; therefore, when you get hold of a good sculptor, give him\nmarble to carve--not granite.\n\n\n34. That, you say, is obvious enough. Yes; but it is not so obvious how\nmuch of your workmen's time you waste annually in making them cut glass,\nafter it has got hard, when you ought to make them mould it while it is\nsoft. It is not so obvious how much expense you waste in cutting\ndiamonds and rubies, which are the hardest things you can find, into\nshapes that mean nothing, when the same men might be cutting sandstone\nand freestone into shapes that meant something. It is not so obvious how\nmuch of the artists' time in Italy you waste, by forcing them to make\nwretched little pictures for you out of crumbs of stone glued together\nat enormous cost, when the tenth of the time would make good and noble\npictures for you out of water-colour.\n\n\n35. I could go on giving you almost numberless instances of this great\ncommercial mistake; but I should only weary and confuse you. I therefore\ncommend also this head of our subject to your own meditation, and\nproceed to the last I named--the last I shall task your patience with\nto-night. You know we are now considering how to apply our genius; and\nwe were to do it as economists, in three ways:--\n\nTo _various_ work;\n\nTo _easy_ work;\n\nTo _lasting_ work.\n\n\n36. This lasting of the work, then, is our final question.\n\nMany of you may perhaps remember that Michael Angelo was once commanded\nby Pietro di Medici to mould a statue out of snow, and that he obeyed\nthe command.[6] I am glad, and we have all reason to be glad, that such\na fancy ever came into the mind of the unworthy prince, and for this\ncause: that Pietro di Medici then gave, at the period of one great epoch\nof consummate power in the arts, the perfect, accurate, and intensest\npossible type of the greatest error which nations and princes can\ncommit, respecting the power of genius entrusted to their guidance. You\nhad there, observe, the strongest genius in the most perfect obedience;\ncapable of iron independence, yet wholly submissive to the patron's\nwill; at once the most highly accomplished and the most original,\ncapable of doing as much as man could do, in any direction that man\ncould ask. And its governor, and guide, and patron sets it to build a\nstatue in snow--to put itself into the service of annihilation--to make\na cloud of itself, and pass away from the earth.\n\n[Note 6: See the noble passage on this tradition in \"Casa Guidi\nWindows.\"]\n\n\n37. Now this, so precisely and completely done by Pietro di Medici, is\nwhat we are all doing, exactly in the degree in which we direct the\ngenius under our patronage to work in more or less perishable materials.\nSo far as we induce painters to work in fading colours, or architects to\nbuild with imperfect structure, or in any other way consult only\nimmediate ease and cheapness in the production of what we want, to the\nexclusion of provident thought as to its permanence and serviceableness\nin after ages; so far we are forcing our Michael Angelos to carve in\nsnow. The first duty of the economist in art is, to see that no\nintellect shall thus glitter merely in the manner of hoar-frost; but\nthat it shall be well vitrified, like a painted window, and shall be set\nso between shafts of stone and bands of iron, that it shall bear the\nsunshine upon it, and send the sunshine through it, from generation to\ngeneration.\n\n\n38. I can conceive, however, some political economist to interrupt me\nhere, and say, \"If you make your art wear too well, you will soon have\ntoo much of it; you will throw your artists quite out of work. Better\nallow for a little wholesome evanescence--beneficent destruction: let\neach age provide art for itself, or we shall soon have so many good\npictures that we shall not know what to do with them.\"\n\nRemember, my dear hearers, who are thus thinking, that political\neconomy, like every other subject, cannot be dealt with effectively if\nwe try to solve two questions at a time instead of one. It is one\nquestion, how to get plenty of a thing; and another, whether plenty of\nit will be good for us. Consider these two matters separately; never\nconfuse yourself by interweaving one with the other. It is one question,\nhow to treat your fields so as to get a good harvest; another, whether\nyou wish to have a good harvest, or would rather like to keep up the\nprice of corn. It is one question, how to graft your trees so as to grow\nmost apples; and quite another, whether having such a heap of apples in\nthe storeroom will not make them all rot.\n\n\n39. Now, therefore, that we are talking only about grafting and growing,\npray do not vex yourselves with thinking what you are to do with the\npippins. It may be desirable for us to have much art, or little--we will\nexamine that by-and-bye; but just now, let us keep to the simple\nconsideration how to get plenty of good art if we want it. Perhaps it\nmight be just as well that a man of moderate income should be able to\npossess a good picture, as that any work of real merit should cost\n500_l._ or 1,000_l._; at all events, it is certainly one of the branches\nof political economy to ascertain how, if we like, we can get things in\nquantities--plenty of corn, plenty of wine, plenty of gold, or plenty of\npictures.\n\nIt has just been said, that the first great secret is to produce work\nthat will last. Now, the conditions of work lasting are twofold: it must\nnot only be in materials that will last, but it must be itself of a\nquality that will last--it must be good enough to bear the test of time.\nIf it is not good, we shall tire of it quickly, and throw it aside--we\nshall have no pleasure in the accumulation of it. So that the first\nquestion of a good art-economist respecting any work is, Will it lose\nits flavour by keeping? It may be very amusing now, and look much like a\nwork of genius; but what will be its value a hundred years hence?\n\nYou cannot always ascertain this. You may get what you fancy to be work\nof the best quality, and yet find to your astonishment that it won't\nkeep. But of one thing you may be sure, that art which is produced\nhastily will also perish hastily; and that what is cheapest to you now,\nis likely to be dearest in the end.\n\n\n40. I am sorry to say, the great tendency of this age is to expend its\ngenius in perishable art of this kind, as if it were a triumph to burn\nits thoughts away in bonfires. There is a vast quantity of intellect and\nof labour consumed annually in our cheap illustrated publications; you\ntriumph in them; and you think it so grand a thing to get so many\nwoodcuts for a penny. Why, woodcuts, penny and all, are as much lost to\nyou as if you had invested your money in gossamer. More lost, for the\ngossamer could only tickle your face, and glitter in your eyes; it could\nnot catch your feet and trip you up: but the bad art can, and does; for\nyou can't like good woodcuts as long as you look at the bad ones. If we\nwere at this moment to come across a Titian woodcut, or a Duerer woodcut,\nwe should not like it--those of us at least who are accustomed to the\ncheap work of the day. We don't like, and can't like, _that_ long; but\nwhen we are tired of one bad cheap thing, we throw it aside and buy\nanother bad cheap thing; and so keep looking at bad things all our\nlives. Now, the very men who do all that quick bad work for us are\ncapable of doing perfect work. Only, perfect work can't be hurried, and\ntherefore it can't be cheap beyond a certain point. But suppose you pay\ntwelve times as much as you do now, and you have one woodcut for a\nshilling instead of twelve; and the one woodcut for a shilling is as\ngood as art can be, so that you will never tire of looking at it; and is\nstruck on good paper with good ink, so that you will never wear it out\nby handling it; while you are sick of your penny-each cuts by the end of\nthe week, and have torn them mostly in half too. Isn't your shilling's\nworth the best bargain?\n\n\n41. It is not, however, only in getting prints or woodcuts of the best\nkind that you will practise economy. There is a certain quality about an\noriginal drawing which you cannot get in a woodcut, and the best part of\nthe genius of many men is only expressible in original work, whether\nwith pen or ink--pencil or colours. This is not always the case; but in\ngeneral, the best men are those who can only express themselves on paper\nor canvas; and you will therefore, in the long run, get most for your\nmoney by buying original work; proceeding on the principle already laid\ndown, that the best is likely to be the cheapest in the end. Of course,\noriginal work cannot be produced under a certain cost. If you want a\nman to make you a drawing which takes him six days, you must, at all\nevents, keep him for six days in bread and water, fire and lodging; that\nis the lowest price at which he can do it for you, but that is not very\ndear: and the best bargain which can possibly be made honestly in\nart--the very ideal of a cheap purchase to the purchaser--is the\noriginal work of a great man fed for as many days as are necessary on\nbread and water, or perhaps we may say with as many onions as will keep\nhim in good humour. That is the way by which you will always get most\nfor your money; no mechanical multiplication or ingenuity of commercial\narrangements will ever get you a better penny's worth of art than that.\n\n\n42. Without, however, pushing our calculations quite to this\nprison-discipline extreme, we may lay it down as a rule in art-economy,\nthat original work is, on the whole, cheapest and best worth having. But\nprecisely in proportion to the value of it as a production, becomes the\nimportance of having it executed in permanent materials. And here we\ncome to note the second main error of the day, that we not only ask our\nworkmen for bad art, but we make them put it into bad substance. We\nhave, for example, put a great quantity of genius, within the last\ntwenty years, into water-colour drawing, and we have done this with the\nmost reckless disregard whether either the colours or the paper will\nstand. In most instances, neither will. By accident, it may happen that\nthe colours in a given drawing have been of good quality, and its paper\nuninjured by chemical processes. But you take not the least care to\nensure these being so; I have myself seen the most destructive changes\ntake place in water-colour drawings within twenty years after they were\npainted; and from all I can gather respecting the recklessness of modern\npaper manufacture, my belief is, that though you may still handle an\nAlbert Duerer engraving, two hundred years old, fearlessly, not one-half\nof that time will have passed over your modern water-colours, before\nmost of them will be reduced to mere white or brown rags; and your\ndescendants, twitching them contemptuously into fragments between finger\nand thumb, will mutter against you, half in scorn and half in anger,\n\"Those wretched nineteenth century people! they kept vapouring and\nfuming about the world, doing what they called business, and they\ncouldn't make a sheet of paper that wasn't rotten.\"\n\n\n43. And note that this is no unimportant portion of your art economy at\nthis time. Your water-colour painters are becoming every day capable of\nexpressing greater and better things; and their material is especially\nadapted to the turn of your best artists' minds. The value which you\ncould accumulate in work of this kind would soon become a most important\nitem in the national art-wealth, if only you would take the little pains\nnecessary to secure its permanence. I am inclined to think, myself, that\nwater-colour ought not to be used on paper at all, but only on vellum,\nand then, if properly taken care of, the drawing would be almost\nimperishable. Still, paper is a much more convenient material for rapid\nwork; and it is an infinite absurdity not to secure the goodness of its\nquality, when we could do so without the slightest trouble. Among the\nmany favours which I am going to ask from our paternal government, when\nwe get it, will be that it will supply its little boys with good paper.\nYou have nothing to do but to let the government establish a paper\nmanufactory, under the superintendence of any of our leading chemists,\nwho should be answerable for the safety and completeness of all the\nprocesses of the manufacture. The government stamp on the corner of your\nsheet of drawing-paper, made in the perfect way, should cost you a\nshilling, which would add something to the revenue; and when you bought\na water-colour drawing for fifty or a hundred guineas, you would have\nmerely to look in the corner for your stamp, and pay your extra shilling\nfor the security that your hundred guineas were given really for a\ndrawing, and not for a coloured rag. There need be no monopoly or\nrestriction in the matter; let the paper manufacturers compete with the\ngovernment, and if people liked to save their shilling, and take their\nchance, let them; only, the artist and purchaser might then be sure of\ngood material, if they liked, and now they cannot be.\n\n\n44. I should like also to have a government colour manufactory; though\nthat is not so necessary, as the quality of colour is more within the\nartist's power of testing, and I have no doubt that any painter may get\npermanent colour from the respectable manufacturers, if he chooses. I\nwill not attempt to follow the subject out at all as it respects\narchitecture, and our methods of modern building; respecting which I\nhave had occasion to speak before now.\n\n\n45. But I cannot pass without some brief notice our habit--continually,\nas it seems to me, gaining strength--of putting a large quantity of\nthought and work, annually, into things which are either in their nature\nnecessarily perishable, as dress; or else into compliances with the\nfashion of the day, in things not necessarily perishable, as plate. I am\nafraid almost the first idea of a young rich couple setting up house in\nLondon, is, that they must have new plate. Their father's plate may be\nvery handsome, but the fashion is changed. They will have a new service\nfrom the leading manufacturer, and the old plate, except a few apostle\nspoons, and a cup which Charles the Second drank a health in to their\npretty ancestress, is sent to be melted down, and made up with new\nflourishes and fresh lustre. Now, so long as this is the case--so long,\nobserve, as fashion has influence on the manufacture of plate--so long\n_you cannot have a goldsmith's art in this country_. Do you suppose any\nworkman worthy the name will put his brains into a cup, or an urn, which\nhe knows is to go to the melting-pot in half a score years? He will not;\nyou don't ask or expect it of him. You ask of him nothing but a little\nquick handicraft--a clever twist of a handle here, and a foot there, a\nconvolvulus from the newest school of design, a pheasant from Landseer's\ngame cards; a couple of sentimental figures for supporters, in the style\nof the signs of insurance offices, then a clever touch with the\nburnisher, and there's your epergne, the admiration of all the footmen\nat the wedding-breakfast, and the torment of some unfortunate youth who\ncannot see the pretty girl opposite to him, through its tyrannous\nbranches.\n\n\n46. But you don't suppose that _that's_ goldsmith's work? Goldsmith's\nwork is made to last, and made with the men's whole heart and soul in\nit; true goldsmith's work, when it exists, is generally the means of\neducation of the greatest painters and sculptors of the day. Francia was\na goldsmith; Francia was not his own name, but that of his master the\njeweller; and he signed his pictures almost always, \"Francia, the\ngoldsmith,\" for love of his master; Ghirlandajo was a goldsmith, and was\nthe master of Michael Angelo; Verrocchio was a goldsmith, and was the\nmaster of Leonardo da Vinci. Ghiberti was a goldsmith, and beat out the\nbronze gates which Michael Angelo said might serve for gates of\nParadise.[7] But if ever you want work like theirs again, you must keep\nit, though it should have the misfortune to become old-fashioned. You\nmust not break it up, nor melt it any more. There is no economy in that;\nyou could not easily waste intellect more grievously. Nature may melt\nher goldsmith's work at every sunset if she chooses; and beat it out\ninto chased bars again at every sunrise; but you must not. The way to\nhave a truly noble service of plate, is to keep adding to it, not\nmelting it. At every marriage, and at every birth, get a new piece of\ngold or silver if you will, but with noble workmanship on it, done for\nall time, and put it among your treasures; that is one of the chief\nthings which gold was made for, and made incorruptible for. When we know\na little more of political economy, we shall find that none but\npartially savage nations need, imperatively, gold for their currency;[8]\nbut gold has been given us, among other things, that we might put\nbeautiful work into its imperishable splendour, and that the artists who\nhave the most wilful fancies may have a material which will drag out,\nand beat out, as their dreams require, and will hold itself together\nwith fantastic tenacity, whatever rare and delicate service they set it\nupon.\n\n[Note 7: Several reasons may account for the fact that goldsmith's\nwork is so wholesome for young artists: first, that it gives great\nfirmness of hand to deal for some time with a solid substance; again,\nthat it induces caution and steadiness--a boy trusted with chalk and\npaper suffers an immediate temptation to scrawl upon it and play with\nit, but he dares not scrawl on gold, and he cannot play with it; and,\nlastly, that it gives great delicacy and precision of touch to work upon\nminute forms, and to aim at producing richness and finish of design\ncorrespondent to the preciousness of the material.]\n\n[Note 8: See note in Addenda on the nature of property.]\n\n\n47. So here is one branch of decorative art in which rich people may\nindulge themselves unselfishly; if they ask for good art in it, they may\nbe sure in buying gold and silver plate that they are enforcing useful\neducation on young artists. But there is another branch of decorative\nart in which I am sorry to say we cannot, at least under existing\ncircumstances, indulge ourselves, with the hope of doing good to\nanybody: I mean the great and subtle art of dress.\n\n\n48. And here I must interrupt the pursuit of our subject for a moment or\ntwo, in order to state one of the principles of political economy,\nwhich, though it is, I believe, now sufficiently understood and asserted\nby the leading masters of the science, is not yet, I grieve to say,\nacted upon by the plurality of those who have the management of riches.\nWhenever we spend money, we of course set people to work: that is the\nmeaning of spending money; we may, indeed, lose it without employing\nanybody; but, whenever we spend it, we set a number of people to work,\ngreater or less, of course, according to the rate of wages, but, in the\nlong run, proportioned to the sum we spend. Well, your shallow people,\nbecause they see that however they spend money they are always employing\nsomebody, and, therefore, doing some good, think and say to themselves,\nthat it is all one _how_ they spend it--that all their apparently\nselfish luxury is, in reality, unselfish, and is doing just as much\ngood as if they gave all their money away, or perhaps more good; and I\nhave heard foolish people even declare it as a principle of political\neconomy, that whoever invented a new want[9] conferred a good on the\ncommunity. I have not words strong enough--at least, I could not,\nwithout shocking you, use the words which would be strong enough--to\nexpress my estimate of the absurdity and the mischievousness of this\npopular fallacy. So, putting a great restraint upon myself, and using no\nhard words, I will simply try to state the nature of it, and the extent\nof its influence.\n\n[Note 9: See note 5th, in Addenda.]\n\n\n49. Granted, that whenever we spend money for whatever purpose, we set\npeople to work; and passing by, for the moment, the question whether the\nwork we set them to is all equally healthy and good for them, we will\nassume that whenever we spend a guinea we provide an equal number of\npeople with healthy maintenance for a given time. But, by the way in\nwhich we spend it, we entirely direct the labour of those people during\nthat given time. We become their masters or mistresses, and we compel\nthem to produce, within a certain period, a certain article. Now, that\narticle may be a useful and lasting one, or it may be a useless and\nperishable one--it may be one useful to the whole community, or useful\nonly to ourselves. And our selfishness and folly, or our virtue and\nprudence, are shown, not by our spending money, but by our spending it\nfor the wrong or the right thing; and we are wise and kind, not in\nmaintaining a certain number of people for a given period, but only in\nrequiring them to produce during that period, the kind of things which\nshall be useful to society, instead of those which are only useful to\nourselves.\n\n\n50. Thus, for instance: if you are a young lady, and employ a certain\nnumber of sempstresses for a given time, in making a given number of\nsimple and serviceable dresses--suppose, seven; of which you can wear\none yourself for half the winter, and give six away to poor girls who\nhave none, you are spending your money unselfishly. But if you\nemploy the same number of sempstresses for the same number of days,\nin making four, or five, or six beautiful flounces for your own\nball-dress--flounces which will clothe no one but yourself, and which\nyou will yourself be unable to wear at more than one ball--you are\nemploying your money selfishly. You have maintained, indeed, in each\ncase, the same number of people; but in the one case you have directed\ntheir labour to the service of the community; in the other case you have\nconsumed it wholly upon yourself. I don't say you are never to do so; I\ndon't say you ought not sometimes to think of yourselves only, and to\nmake yourselves as pretty as you can; only do not confuse coquettishness\nwith benevolence, nor cheat yourselves into thinking that all the finery\nyou can wear is so much put into the hungry mouths of those beneath you:\nit is not so; it is what you yourselves, whether you will or no, must\nsometimes instinctively feel it to be--it is what those who stand\nshivering in the streets, forming a line to watch you as you step out of\nyour carriages, _know_ it to be; those fine dresses do not mean that so\nmuch has been put into their mouths, but that so much has been taken out\nof their mouths.\n\n\n51. The real politico-economical signification of every one of those\nbeautiful toilettes, is just this: that you have had a certain number of\npeople put for a certain number of days wholly under your authority, by\nthe sternest of slave-masters--hunger and cold; and you have said to\nthem, \"I will feed you, indeed, and clothe you, and give you fuel for so\nmany days; but during those days you shall work for me only: your little\nbrothers need clothes, but you shall make none for them: your sick\nfriend needs clothes, but you shall make none for her: you yourself will\nsoon need another and a warmer dress, but you shall make none for\nyourself. You shall make nothing but lace and roses for me; for this\nfortnight to come, you shall work at the patterns and petals, and then I\nwill crush and consume them away in an hour.\" You will perhaps\nanswer--\"It may not be particularly benevolent to do this, and we won't\ncall it so; but at any rate we do no wrong in taking their labour when\nwe pay them their wages: if we pay for their work, we have a right to\nit.\"\n\n\n52. No;--a thousand times no. The labour which you have paid for, does\nindeed become, by the act of purchase, your own labour: you have bought\nthe hands and the time of those workers; they are, by right and justice,\nyour own hands, your own time. But have you a right to spend your own\ntime, to work with your own hands, only for your own advantage?--much\nmore, when, by purchase, you have invested your own person with the\nstrength of others; and added to your own life, a part of the life of\nothers? You may, indeed, to a certain extent, use their labour for your\ndelight: remember, I am making no general assertions against splendour\nof dress, or pomp of accessories of life; on the contrary, there are\nmany reasons for thinking that we do not at present attach enough\nimportance to beautiful dress, as one of the means of influencing\ngeneral taste and character. But I _do_ say, that you must weigh the\nvalue of what you ask these workers to produce for you in its own\ndistinct balance; that on its own worthiness or desirableness rests the\nquestion of your kindness, and not merely on the fact of your having\nemployed people in producing it: and I say further, that as long as\nthere are cold and nakedness in the land around you, so long there can\nbe no question at all but that splendour of dress is a crime. In due\ntime, when we have nothing better to set people to work at, it may be\nright to let them make lace and cut jewels; but as long as there are any\nwho have no blankets for their beds, and no rags for their bodies, so\nlong it is blanket-making and tailoring we must set people to work\nat--not lace.\n\n\n53. And it would be strange, if at any great assembly which, while it\ndazzled the young and the thoughtless, beguiled the gentler hearts that\nbeat beneath the embroidery, with a placid sensation of luxurious\nbenevolence--as if by all that they wore in waywardness of beauty,\ncomfort had been first given to the distressed, and aid to the indigent;\nit would be strange, I say, if, for a moment, the spirits of Truth and\nof Terror, which walk invisibly among the masques of the earth, would\nlift the dimness from our erring thoughts, and show us how--inasmuch as\nthe sums exhausted for that magnificence would have given back the\nfailing breath to many an unsheltered outcast on moor and street--they\nwho wear it have literally entered into partnership with Death; and\ndressed themselves in his spoils. Yes, if the veil could be lifted not\nonly from your thoughts, but from your human sight, you would see--the\nangels do see--on those gay white dresses of yours, strange dark spots,\nand crimson patterns that you knew not of--spots of the inextinguishable\nred that all the seas cannot wash away; yes, and among the pleasant\nflowers that crown your fair heads, and glow on your wreathed hair, you\nwould see that one weed was always twisted which no one thought of--the\ngrass that grows on graves.\n\n\n54. It was not, however, this last, this clearest and most appalling\nview of our subject, that I intended to ask you to take this evening;\nonly it is impossible to set any part of the matter in its true light,\nuntil we go to the root of it. But the point which it is our special\nbusiness to consider is, not whether costliness of dress is contrary to\ncharity; but whether it is not contrary to mere worldly wisdom: whether,\neven supposing we knew that splendour of dress did not cost suffering or\nhunger, we might not put the splendour better in other things than\ndress. And, supposing our mode of dress were really graceful or\nbeautiful, this might be a very doubtful question; for I believe true\nnobleness of dress to be an important means of education, as it\ncertainly is a necessity to any nation which wishes to possess living\nart, concerned with portraiture of human nature. No good historical\npainting ever yet existed, or ever can exist, where the dresses of the\npeople of the time are not beautiful: and had it not been for the lovely\nand fantastic dressing of the thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries,\nneither French, nor Florentine, nor Venetian art could have risen to\nanything like the rank it reached. Still, even then, the best dressing\nwas never the costliest; and its effect depended much more on its\nbeautiful and, in early times, modest, arrangement, and on the simple\nand lovely masses of its colour, than on gorgeousness of clasp or\nembroidery.\n\n\n55. Whether we can ever return to any of those more perfect types of\nform, is questionable; but there can be no more question that all the\nmoney we spend on the forms of dress at present worn, is, so far as any\ngood purpose is concerned, wholly lost. Mind, in saying this, I reckon\namong good purposes the purpose which young ladies are said sometimes\nto entertain--of being married; but they would be married quite as soon\n(and probably to wiser and better husbands) by dressing quietly, as by\ndressing brilliantly: and I believe it would only be needed to lay\nfairly and largely before them the real good which might be effected by\nthe sums they spend in toilettes, to make them trust at once only to\ntheir bright eyes and braided hair for all the mischief they have a\nmind to. I wish we could, for once, get the statistics of a London\nseason. There was much complaining talk in Parliament, last week,\nof the vast sum the nation has given for the best Paul Veronese in\nVenice--14,000_l._: I wonder what the nation meanwhile has given for its\nball-dresses! Suppose we could see the London milliners' bills, simply\nfor unnecessary breadths of slip and flounce, from April to July; I\nwonder whether 14,000_l._ would cover _them_. But the breadths of slip\nand flounce are by this time as much lost and vanished as last year's\nsnow; only they have done less good: but the Paul Veronese will last for\ncenturies, if we take care of it; and yet, we grumble at the price given\nfor the painting, while no one grumbles at the price of pride.\n\n\n56. Time does not permit me to go into any farther illustration of the\nvarious modes in which we build our statue out of snow, and waste our\nlabour on things that vanish. I must leave you to follow out the subject\nfor yourselves, as I said I should, and proceed, in our next lecture, to\nexamine the two other branches of our subject--namely, how to accumulate\nour art, and how to distribute it. But, in closing, as we have been much\non the topic of good government, both of ourselves and others, let me\njust give you one more illustration of what it means, from that old art\nof which, next evening, I shall try to convince you that the value, both\nmoral and mercantile, is greater than we usually suppose.\n\n\n57. One of the frescoes by Ambrozio Lorenzetti, in the town-hall of\nSiena, represents, by means of symbolical figures, the principles of\nGood Civic Government and of Good Government in general. The figure\nrepresenting this noble Civic Government is enthroned, and surrounded by\nfigures representing the Virtues, variously supporting or administering\nits authority. Now, observe what work is given to each of these\nvirtues. Three winged ones--Faith, Hope, and Charity--surround the head\nof the figure; not in mere compliance with the common and heraldic laws\nof precedence among Virtues, such as we moderns observe habitually, but\nwith peculiar purpose on the part of the painter. Faith, as thus\nrepresented ruling the thoughts of the Good Governor, does not mean\nmerely religious faith, understood in those times to be necessary to all\npersons--governed no less than governors--but it means the faith which\nenables work to be carried out steadily, in spite of adverse appearances\nand expediencies; the faith in great principles, by which a civic ruler\nlooks past all the immediate checks and shadows that would daunt a\ncommon man, knowing that what is rightly done will have a right issue,\nand holding his way in spite of pullings at his cloak and whisperings in\nhis ear, enduring, as having in him a faith which is evidence of things\nunseen.\n\n\n58. And Hope, in like manner, is here not the heavenward hope which\nought to animate the hearts of all men; but she attends upon Good\nGovernment, to show that all such government is _expectant_ as well as\n_conservative_; that if it ceases to be hopeful of better things, it\nceases to be a wise guardian of present things: that it ought never, as\nlong as the world lasts, to be wholly content with any existing state of\ninstitution or possession, but to be hopeful still of more wisdom and\npower; not clutching at it restlessly or hastily, but feeling that its\nreal life consists in steady ascent from high to higher: conservative,\nindeed, and jealously conservative of old things, but conservative of\nthem as pillars, not as pinnacles--as aids, but not as idols; and\nhopeful chiefly, and active, in times of national trial or distress,\naccording to those first and notable words describing the queenly\nnation: \"She riseth, _while it is yet night_.\"\n\n\n59. And again, the winged Charity which is attendant on Good Government\nhas, in this fresco, a peculiar office. Can you guess what? If you\nconsider the character of contest which so often takes place among kings\nfor their crowns, and the selfish and tyrannous means they commonly take\nto aggrandize or secure their power, you will, perhaps, be surprised to\nhear that the office of Charity is to crown the King. And yet, if you\nthink of it a little, you will see the beauty of the thought which sets\nher in this function: since, in the first place, all the authority of a\ngood governor should be desired by him only for the good of his people,\nso that it is only Love that makes him accept or guard his crown: in the\nsecond place, his chief greatness consists in the exercise of this love,\nand he is truly to be revered only so far as his acts and thoughts are\nthose of kindness; so that Love is the light of his crown, as well as\nthe giver of it: lastly, because his strength depends on the affections\nof his people, and it is only their love which can securely crown him,\nand for ever. So that Love is the strength of his crown as well as the\nlight of it.\n\n\n60. Then, surrounding the King, or in various obedience to him, appear\nthe dependent virtues, as Fortitude, Temperance, Truth, and other\nattendant spirits, of all which I cannot now give account, wishing you\nonly to notice the one to whom are entrusted the guidance and\nadministration of the public revenues. Can you guess which it is likely\nto be? Charity, you would have thought, should have something to do with\nthe business; but not so, for she is too hot to attend carefully to it.\nPrudence, perhaps, you think of in the next place. No, she is too timid,\nand loses opportunities in making up her mind. Can it be Liberality\nthen? No: Liberality is entrusted with some small sums; but she is a bad\naccountant, and is allowed no important place in the exchequer. But the\ntreasures are given in charge to a virtue of which we hear too little in\nmodern times, as distinct from others; Magnanimity: largeness of heart:\nnot softness or weakness of heart, mind you--but capacity of heart--the\ngreat _measuring_ virtue, which weighs in heavenly balances all that may\nbe given, and all that may be gained; and sees how to do noblest things\nin noblest ways: which of two goods comprehends and therefore chooses\nthe greater: which of two personal sacrifices dares and accepts the\nlarger: which, out of the avenues of beneficence, treads always that\nwhich opens farthest into the blue fields of futurity: that character,\nin fine, which, in those words taken by us at first for the description\nof a Queen among the nations, looks less to the present power than to\nthe distant promise; \"Strength and honour are in her clothing,--and she\nshall rejoice IN TIME TO COME.\"\n\n\n\n\nLECTURE II.\n\nTHE ACCUMULATION AND DISTRIBUTION OF ART.\n\n_Continuation of the previous Lecture; delivered July 13, 1857._\n\n\n61. The heads of our subject which remain for our consideration this\nevening are, you will remember, the accumulation and the distribution of\nworks of art. Our complete inquiry fell into four divisions--first, how\nto get our genius; then, how to apply our genius; then, how to\naccumulate its results; and lastly, how to distribute them. We\nconsidered, last evening, how to discover and apply it;--we have\nto-night to examine the modes of its preservation and distribution.\n\n\n62. III. ACCUMULATION.--And now, in the outset, it will be well to face\nthat objection which we put aside a little while ago; namely, that\nperhaps it is not well to have a great deal of good art; and that it\nshould not be made too cheap.\n\n\"Nay,\" I can imagine some of the more generous among you exclaiming, \"we\nwill not trouble you to disprove that objection; of course it is a\nselfish and base one: good art, as well as other good things, ought to\nbe made as cheap as possible, and put as far as we can within the reach\nof everybody.\"\n\n\n63. Pardon me, I am not prepared to admit that. I rather side with the\nselfish objectors, and believe that art ought not to be made cheap,\nbeyond a certain point; for the amount of pleasure that you can receive\nfrom any great work, depends wholly on the quantity of attention and\nenergy of mind you can bring to bear upon it. Now, that attention and\nenergy depend much more on the freshness of the thing than you would at\nall suppose; unless you very carefully studied the movements of your own\nminds. If you see things of the same kind and of equal value very\nfrequently, your reverence for them is infallibly diminished, your\npowers of attention get gradually wearied, and your interest and\nenthusiasm worn out; and you cannot in that state bring to any given\nwork the energy necessary to enjoy it. If, indeed, the question were\nonly between enjoying a great many pictures each a little, or one\npicture very much, the sum of enjoyment being in each case the same, you\nmight rationally desire to possess rather the larger quantity than the\nsmall; both because one work of art always in some sort illustrates\nanother, and because quantity diminishes the chances of destruction.\n\n\n64. But the question is not a merely arithmetical one of this kind. Your\nfragments of broken admirations will not, when they are put together,\nmake up one whole admiration; two and two, in this case, do not make\nfour, nor anything like four. Your good picture, or book, or work of art\nof any kind, is always in some degree fenced and closed about with\ndifficulty. You may think of it as of a kind of cocoanut, with very\noften rather an unseemly shell, but good milk and kernel inside. Now, if\nyou possess twenty cocoanuts, and being thirsty, go impatiently from one\nto the other, giving only a single scratch with the point of your knife\nto the shell of each, you will get no milk from all the twenty. But if\nyou leave nineteen of them alone, and give twenty cuts to the shell of\none, you will get through it, and at the milk of it. And the tendency of\nthe human mind is always to get tired before it has made its twenty\ncuts; and to try another nut: and moreover, even if it has perseverance\nenough to crack its nuts, it is sure to try to eat too many, and to\nchoke itself. Hence, it is wisely appointed for us that few of the\nthings we desire can be had without considerable labour, and at\nconsiderable intervals of time. We cannot generally get our dinner\nwithout working for it, and that gives us appetite for it, we cannot get\nour holiday without waiting for it, and that gives us zest for it; and\nwe ought not to get our picture without paying for it, and that gives us\na mind to look at it.\n\n\n65. Nay, I will even go so far as to say that we ought not to get books\ntoo cheaply. No book, I believe, is ever worth half so much to its\nreader as one that has been coveted for a year at a bookstall, and\nbought out of saved halfpence; and perhaps a day or two's fasting.\nThat's the way to get at the cream of a book. And I should say more on\nthis matter, and protest as energetically as I could against the plague\nof cheap literature, with which we are just now afflicted, but that I\nfear your calling me to order, as being unpractical, because I don't\nquite see my way at present to making everybody fast for their books.\nBut one may see that a thing is desirable and possible, even though one\nmay not at once know the best way to it,--and in my island of Barataria,\nwhen I get it well into order, I assure you no book shall be sold for\nless than a pound sterling; if it can be published cheaper than that,\nthe surplus shall all go into my treasury, and save my subjects taxation\nin other directions; only people really poor, who cannot pay the pound,\nshall be supplied with the books they want for nothing, in a certain\nlimited quantity. I haven't made up my mind about the number yet, and\nthere are several other points in the system yet unsettled; when they\nare all determined, if you will allow me, I will come and give you\nanother lecture, on the political economy of literature.[10]\n\n[Note 10: See note 6th, in Addenda.]\n\n\n66. Meantime, returning to our immediate subject, I say to my generous\nhearers, who want to shower Titians and Turners upon us, like falling\nleaves, \"Pictures ought not to be too cheap;\" but in much stronger tone\nI would say to those who want to keep up the prices of pictorial\nproperty, that pictures ought not to be too dear--that is to say, not as\ndear as they are. For, as matters at present stand, it is wholly\nimpossible for any man in the ordinary circumstances of English life to\npossess himself of a piece of great art. A modern drawing of average\nmerit, or a first-class engraving, may, perhaps, not without some\nself-reproach, be purchased out of his savings by a man of narrow\nincome; but a satisfactory example of first-rate art--masterhands'\nwork--is wholly out of his reach. And we are so accustomed to look upon\nthis as the natural course and necessity of things, that we never set\nourselves in any wise to diminish the evil; and yet it is an evil\nperfectly capable of diminution.\n\n\n67. It is an evil precisely similar in kind to that which existed in the\nMiddle Ages, respecting good books, and which everybody then, I suppose,\nthought as natural as we do now our small supply of good pictures. You\ncould not then study the work of a great historian, or great poet, any\nmore than you can now study that of a great painter, but at heavy cost.\nIf you wanted a book, you had to get it written out for you, or to write\nit out for yourself. But printing came, and the poor man may read his\nDante and his Homer; and Dante and Homer are none the worse for that.\nBut it is only in literature that private persons of moderate fortune\ncan possess and study greatness: they can study at home no greatness in\nart; and the object of that accumulation which we are at present aiming\nat, as our third object in political economy, is to bring great art in\nsome degree within the reach of the multitude; and, both in larger and\nmore numerous galleries than we now possess, and by distribution,\naccording to his wealth and wish, in each man's home, to render the\ninfluence of art somewhat correspondent in extent to that of literature.\nHere, then, is the subtle balance which your economist has to strike: to\naccumulate so much art as to be able to give the whole nation a supply\nof it, according to its need, and yet to regulate its distribution so\nthat there shall be no glut of it, nor contempt.\n\n\n68. A difficult balance, indeed, for us to hold, if it were left merely\nto our skill to poise; but the just point between poverty and profusion\nhas been fixed for us accurately by the wise laws of Providence. If you\ncarefully watch for all the genius you can detect, apply it to good\nservice, and then reverently preserve what it produces, you will never\nhave too little art; and if, on the other hand, you never force an\nartist to work hurriedly, for daily bread, nor imperfectly, because you\nwould rather have showy works than complete ones, you will never have\ntoo much. Do not force the multiplication of art, and you will not have\nit too cheap; do not wantonly destroy it, and you will not have it too\ndear.\n\n\n69. \"But who wantonly destroys it?\" you will ask. Why, we all do.\nPerhaps you thought, when I came to this part of our subject,\ncorresponding to that set forth in our housewife's economy by the\n\"keeping her embroidery from the moth,\" that I was going to tell you\nonly how to take better care of pictures, how to clean them, and varnish\nthem, and where to put them away safely when you went out of town. Ah,\nnot at all. The utmost I have to ask of you is, that you will not pull\nthem to pieces, and trample them under your feet. \"What!\" you will say,\n\"when do we do such things? Haven't we built a perfectly beautiful\ngallery for all the pictures we have to take care of?\" Yes, you have,\nfor the pictures which are definitely sent to Manchester to be taken\ncare of. But there are quantities of pictures out of Manchester which it\nis your business, and mine too, to take care of no less than of these,\nand which we are at this moment employing ourselves in pulling to pieces\nby deputy. I will tell you what they are, and where they are, in a\nminute; only first let me state one more of those main principles of\npolitical economy on which the matter hinges.\n\n\n70. I must begin a little apparently wide of the mark, and ask you to\nreflect if there is any way in which we waste money more in England than\nin building fine tombs? Our respect for the dead, when they are _just_\ndead, is something wonderful, and the way we show it more wonderful\nstill. We show it with black feathers and black horses; we show it with\nblack dresses and bright heraldries; we show it with costly obelisks and\nsculptures of sorrow, which spoil half of our most beautiful cathedrals.\nWe show it with frightful gratings and vaults, and lids of dismal stone,\nin the midst of the quiet grass; and last, and not least, we show it by\npermitting ourselves to tell any number of lies we think amiable or\ncredible, in the epitaph. This feeling is common to the poor as well as\nthe rich; and we all know how many a poor family will nearly ruin\nthemselves, to testify their respect for some member of it in his\ncoffin, whom they never much cared for when he was out of it; and how\noften it happens that a poor old woman will starve herself to death, in\norder that she may be respectably buried.\n\n\n71. Now, this being one of the most complete and special ways of wasting\nmoney,--no money being less productive of good, or of any percentage\nwhatever, than that which we shake away from the ends of undertakers'\nplumes,--it is of course the duty of all good economists, and kind\npersons, to prove and proclaim continually, to the poor as well as the\nrich, that respect for the dead is not really shown by laying great\nstones on them to tell us where they are laid; but by remembering where\nthey are laid, without a stone to help us; trusting them to the sacred\ngrass and saddened flowers; and still more, that respect and love are\nshown to them, not by great monuments to them which we build with _our_\nhands, but by letting the monuments stand, which they built with _their\nown_. And this is the point now in question.\n\n\n72. Observe, there are two great reciprocal duties concerning industry,\nconstantly to be exchanged between the living and the dead. We, as we\nlive and work, are to be always thinking of those who are to come after\nus; that what we do may be serviceable, as far as we can make it so, to\nthem, as well as to us. Then, when we die, it is the duty of those who\ncome after us to accept this work of ours with thanks and remembrance,\nnot thrusting it aside or tearing it down the moment they think they\nhave no use for it. And each generation will only be happy or powerful\nto the pitch that it ought to be, in fulfilling these two duties to the\nPast and the Future. Its own work will never be rightly done, even for\nitself--never good, or noble, or pleasurable to its own eyes--if it does\nnot prepare it also for the eyes of generations yet to come. And its own\npossessions will never be enough for it, and its own wisdom never enough\nfor it, unless it avails itself gratefully and tenderly of the treasures\nand the wisdom bequeathed to it by its ancestors.\n\n\n73. For, be assured, that all the best things and treasures of this\nworld are not to be produced by each generation for itself; but we are\nall intended, not to carve our work in snow that will melt, but each and\nall of us to be continually rolling a great white gathering snowball,\nhigher and higher--larger and larger--along the Alps of human power.\nThus the science of nations is to be accumulative from father to son:\neach learning a little more and a little more; each receiving all that\nwas known, and adding its own gain: the history and poetry of nations\nare to be accumulative; each generation treasuring the history and the\nsongs of its ancestors, adding its own history and its own songs: and\nthe art of nations is to be accumulative, just as science and history\nare; the work of living men is not superseding, but building itself\nupon the work of the past. Nearly every great and intellectual race of\nthe world has produced, at every period of its career, an art with some\npeculiar and precious character about it, wholly unattainable by any\nother race, and at any other time; and the intention of Providence\nconcerning that art, is evidently that it should all grow together into\none mighty temple; the rough stones and the smooth all finding their\nplace, and rising, day by day, in richer and higher pinnacles to heaven.\n\n\n74. Now, just fancy what a position the world, considered as one great\nworkroom--one great factory in the form of a globe--would have been in\nby this time, if it had in the least understood this duty, or been\ncapable of it. Fancy what we should have had around us now, if, instead\nof quarrelling and fighting over their work, the nations had aided each\nother in their work, or if even in their conquests, instead of effacing\nthe memorials of those they succeeded and subdued, they had guarded the\nspoils of their victories. Fancy what Europe would be now, if the\ndelicate statues and temples of the Greeks--if the broad roads and\nmassy walls of the Romans--if the noble and pathetic architecture of the\nmiddle ages, had not been ground to dust by mere human rage. You talk of\nthe scythe of Time, and the tooth of Time: I tell you, Time is\nscytheless and toothless; it is we who gnaw like the worm--we who smite\nlike the scythe. It is ourselves who abolish--ourselves who consume: we\nare the mildew, and the flame; and the soul of man is to its own work as\nthe moth that frets when it cannot fly, and as the hidden flame that\nblasts where it cannot illuminate. All these lost treasures of human\nintellect have been wholly destroyed by human industry of destruction;\nthe marble would have stood its two thousand years as well in the\npolished statue as in the Parian cliff; but we men have ground it to\npowder, and mixed it with our own ashes. The walls and the ways would\nhave stood--it is we who have left not one stone upon another, and\nrestored its pathlessness to the desert; the great cathedrals of old\nreligion would have stood--it is we who have dashed down the carved work\nwith axes and hammers, and bid the mountain-grass bloom upon the\npavement, and the sea-winds chant in the galleries.\n\n\n75. You will perhaps think all this was somehow necessary for the\ndevelopment of the human race. I cannot stay now to dispute that, though\nI would willingly; but do you think it is _still_ necessary for that\ndevelopment? Do you think that in this nineteenth century it is still\nnecessary for the European nations to turn all the places where their\nprincipal art-treasures are into battle-fields? For that is what they\nare doing even while I speak; the great firm of the world is managing\nits business at this moment, just as it has done in past time. Imagine\nwhat would be the thriving circumstances of a manufacturer of some\ndelicate produce--suppose glass, or china--in whose workshop and\nexhibition rooms all the workmen and clerks began fighting at least once\na day, first blowing off the steam, and breaking all the machinery they\ncould reach; and then making fortresses of all the cupboards, and\nattacking and defending the show-tables, the victorious party finally\nthrowing everything they could get hold of out of the window, by way of\nshowing their triumph, and the poor manufacturer picking up and putting\naway at last a cup here and a handle there. A fine prosperous business\nthat would be, would it not? and yet that is precisely the way the great\nmanufacturing firm of the world carries on its business.\n\n\n76. It has so arranged its political squabbles for the last six or seven\nhundred years, that not one of them could be fought out but in the midst\nof its most precious art; and it so arranges them to this day. For\nexample, if I were asked to lay my finger, in a map of the world, on the\nspot of the world's surface which contained at this moment the most\nsingular concentration of art-teaching and art-treasure, I should lay it\non the name of the town of Verona. Other cities, indeed, contain more\nworks of carriageable art, but none contain so much of the glorious\nlocal art, and of the springs and sources of art, which can by no means\nbe made subjects of package or porterage, nor, I grieve to say, of\nsalvage. Verona possesses, in the first place, not the largest, but the\nmost perfect and intelligible Roman amphitheatre that exists, still\nunbroken in circle of step, and strong in succession of vault and arch:\nit contains minor Roman monuments, gateways, theatres, baths, wrecks of\ntemples, which give the streets of its suburbs a character of antiquity\nunexampled elsewhere, except in Rome itself. But it contains, in the\nnext place, what Rome does not contain--perfect examples of the great\ntwelfth-century Lombardic architecture, which was the root of all the\nmediaeval art of Italy, without which no Giottos, no Angelicos, no\nRaphaels would have been possible: it contains that architecture, not in\nrude forms, but in the most perfect and loveliest types it ever\nattained--contains those, not in ruins, nor in altered and hardly\ndecipherable fragments, but in churches perfect from porch to apse, with\nall their carving fresh, their pillars firm, their joints unloosened.\nBesides these, it includes examples of the great thirteenth and\nfourteenth-century Gothic of Italy, not merely perfect, but elsewhere\nunrivalled. At Rome, the Roman--at Pisa, the Lombard--architecture may\nbe seen in greater or in equal nobleness; but not at Rome, nor Pisa, nor\nFlorence, nor in any city of the world, is there a great mediaeval Gothic\nlike the Gothic of Verona. Elsewhere, it is either less pure in type or\nless lovely in completion: only at Verona may you see it in the\nsimplicity of its youthful power, and the tenderness of its accomplished\nbeauty. And Verona possesses, in the last place, the loveliest\nRenaissance architecture of Italy, not disturbed by pride, nor defiled\nby luxury, but rising in fair fulfilment of domestic service, serenity\nof effortless grace, and modesty of home seclusion; its richest work\ngiven to the windows that open on the narrowest streets and most silent\ngardens. All this she possesses, in the midst of natural scenery such as\nassuredly exists nowhere else in the habitable globe--a wild Alpine\nriver foaming at her feet, from whose shore the rocks rise in a great\ncrescent, dark with cypress, and misty with olive: illimitably, from\nbefore her southern gates, the tufted plains of Italy sweep and fade in\ngolden light; around her, north and west, the Alps crowd in crested\ntroops, and the winds of Benacus bear to her the coolness of their\nsnows.\n\n\n77. And this is the city--such, and possessing such things as these--at\nwhose gates the decisive battles of Italy are fought continually: three\ndays her towers trembled with the echo of the cannon of Arcola; heaped\npebbles of the Mincio divide her fields to this hour with lines of\nbroken rampart, whence the tide of war rolled back to Novara; and now on\nthat crescent of her eastern cliffs, whence the full moon used to rise\nthrough the bars of the cypresses in her burning summer twilights,\ntouching with soft increase of silver light the rosy marbles of her\nbalconies,--along the ridge of that encompassing rock, other circles are\nincreasing now, white and pale; walled towers of cruel strength,\nsable-spotted with cannon-courses. I tell you, I have seen, when the\nthunderclouds came down on those Italian hills, and all their crags were\ndipped in the dark, terrible purple, as if the winepress of the wrath of\nGod had stained their mountain-raiment--I have seen the hail fall in\nItaly till the forest branches stood stripped and bare as if blasted by\nthe locust; but the white hail never fell from those clouds of heaven as\nthe black hail will fall from the clouds of hell, if ever one breath of\nItalian life stirs again in the streets of Verona.\n\n\n78. Sad as you will feel this to be, I do not say that you can directly\nprevent it; you cannot drive the Austrians out of Italy, nor prevent\nthem from building forts where they choose. But I do say,[11] that you,\nand I, and all of us, ought to be both acting and feeling with a full\nknowledge and understanding of these things; and that, without trying to\nexcite revolutions or weaken governments, we may give our own thoughts\nand help, so as in a measure to prevent needless destruction. We should\ndo this, if we only realized the thing thoroughly. You drive out day by\nday through your own pretty suburbs, and you think only of making, with\nwhat money you have to spare, your gateways handsomer, and your\ncarriage-drives wider--and your drawing-rooms more splendid, having a\nvague notion that you are all the while patronizing and advancing art;\nand you make no effort to conceive the fact that, within a few hours'\njourney of you, there are gateways and drawing-rooms which might just as\nwell be yours as these, all built already; gateways built by the\ngreatest masters of sculpture that ever struck marble; drawing-rooms,\npainted by Titian and Veronese; and you won't accept nor save these as\nthey are, but you will rather fetch the house-painter from over the way,\nand let Titian and Veronese house the rats.\n\n[Note 11: The reader can hardly but remember Mrs. Browning's\nbeautiful appeal for Italy, made on the occasion of the first great\nExhibition of Art in England:--\n\n    Magi of the east and of the west,\n    Your incense, gold, and myrrh are excellent!--\n    What gifts for Christ, then, bring ye with the rest?\n    Your hands have worked well. Is your courage spent\n    In handwork only? Have you nothing best,\n    Which generous souls may perfect and present,\n    And He shall thank the givers for? no light\n    Of teaching, liberal nations, for the poor,\n    Who sit in darkness when it is not night?\n    No cure for wicked children? Christ,--no cure,\n    No help for women, sobbing out of sight\n    Because men made the laws? no brothel-lure\n    Burnt out by popular lightnings? Hast thou found\n    No remedy, my England, for such woes?\n    No outlet, Austria, for the scourged and bound,\n    No call back for the exiled? no repose,\n    Russia for knouted Poles worked underground,\n    And gentle ladies bleached among the snows?\n    No mercy for the slave, America?\n    No hope for Rome, free France, chivalric France?\n    Alas, great nations have great shames, I say.\n    No pity, O world, no tender utterance\n    Of benediction, and prayers stretched this way\n    For poor Italia, baffled by mischance?\n    O gracious nations, give some ear to me!\n    You all go to your Fair, and I am one\n    Who at the roadside of humanity\n    Beseech your alms,--God's justice to be done.\n    So, prosper!\n\n]\n\n\n79. \"Yes,\" of course, you answer; \"we want nice houses here, not houses\nin Verona. What should we do with houses in Verona?\" And I answer, do\nprecisely what you do with the most expensive part of your possessions\nhere: take pride in them--only a noble pride. You know well, when you\nexamine your own hearts, that the greater part of the sums you spend on\npossessions is spent for pride. Why are your carriages nicely painted\nand finished outside? You don't see the outsides as you sit in them--the\noutsides are for other people to see. Why are your exteriors of houses\nso well finished, your furniture so polished and costly, but for other\npeople to see? You are just as comfortable yourselves, writing on your\nold friend of a desk, with the white cloudings in his leather, and using\nthe light of a window which is nothing but a hole in the brick wall. And\nall that is desirable to be done in this matter is merely to take pride\nin preserving great art, instead of in producing mean art; pride in the\npossession of precious and enduring things, a little way off, instead\nof slight and perishing things near at hand. You know, in old English\ntimes, our kings liked to have lordships and dukedoms abroad: and why\nshould not your merchant princes like to have lordships and estates\nabroad? Believe me, rightly understood, it would be a prouder, and in\nthe full sense of our English word, more \"respectable\" thing to be lord\nof a palace at Verona, or of a cloister full of frescoes at Florence,\nthan to have a file of servants dressed in the finest liveries that ever\ntailor stitched, as long as would reach from here to Bolton:--yes, and a\nprouder thing to send people to travel in Italy, who would have to say\nevery now and then, of some fair piece of art, \"Ah! this was _kept_ here\nfor us by the good people of Manchester,\" than to bring them travelling\nall the way here, exclaiming of your various art treasures, \"These were\n_brought_ here for us, (not altogether without harm) by the good people\nof Manchester.\"\n\n\n80. \"Ah!\" but you say, \"the Art Treasures Exhibition will pay; but\nVeronese palaces won't.\" Pardon me. They _would_ pay, less directly, but\nfar more richly. Do you suppose it is in the long run good for\nManchester, or good for England, that the Continent should be in the\nstate it is? Do you think the perpetual fear of revolution, or the\nperpetual repression of thought and energy that clouds and encumbers the\nnations of Europe, is eventually profitable for _us_? Were we any the\nbetter of the course of affairs in '48? or has the stabling of the\ndragoon horses in the great houses of Italy any distinct effect in the\npromotion of the cotton-trade? Not so. But every stake that you could\nhold in the stability of the Continent, and every effort that you could\nmake to give example of English habits and principles on the Continent,\nand every kind deed that you could do in relieving distress and\npreventing despair on the Continent, would have tenfold reaction on the\nprosperity of England, and open and urge, in a thousand unforeseen\ndirections, the sluices of commerce and the springs of industry.\n\n\n81. I could press, if I chose, both these motives upon you, of pride and\nself-interest, with more force, but these are not motives which ought to\nbe urged upon you at all. The only motive that I ought to put before\nyou is simply that it would be right to do this; that the holding of\nproperty abroad, and the personal efforts of Englishmen to redeem the\ncondition of foreign nations, are among the most direct pieces of duty\nwhich our wealth renders incumbent upon us. I do not--and in all truth\nand deliberateness I say this--I do not know anything more ludicrous\namong the self-deceptions of well-meaning people than their notion of\npatriotism, as requiring them to limit their efforts to the good of\ntheir own country;--the notion that charity is a geographical virtue,\nand that what it is holy and righteous to do for people on one bank of a\nriver, it is quite improper and unnatural to do for people on the other.\nIt will be a wonderful thing, some day or other, for the Christian world\nto remember, that it went on thinking for two thousand years that\nneighbours were neighbours at Jerusalem, but not at Jericho; a wonderful\nthing for us English to reflect, in after-years, how long it was before\nwe could shake hands with anybody across that shallow salt wash, which\nthe very chalk-dust of its two shores whitens from Folkestone to\nAmbleteuse.\n\n\n82. Nor ought the motive of gratitude, as well as that of mercy, to be\nwithout its influence on you, who have been the first to ask to see, and\nthe first to show to us, the treasures which this poor lost Italy has\ngiven to England. Remember, all these things that delight you here were\nhers--hers either in fact or in teaching; hers, in fact, are all the\nmost powerful and most touching paintings of old time that now glow upon\nyour walls; hers in teaching are all the best and greatest of descendant\nsouls--your Reynolds and your Gainsborough never could have painted but\nfor Venice; and the energies which have given the only true life to your\nexisting art were first stirred by voices of the dead that haunted the\nSacred Field of Pisa.\n\nWell, all these motives for some definite course of action on our part\ntowards foreign countries rest upon very serious facts; too serious,\nperhaps you will think, to be interfered with; for we are all of us in\nthe habit of leaving great things alone, as if Providence would mind\nthem, and attending ourselves only to little things which we know,\npractically, Providence doesn't mind unless we do. We are ready enough\nto give care to the growing of pines and lettuces, knowing that they\ndon't grow Providentially sweet or large unless we look after them; but\nwe don't give any care to the good of Italy or Germany, because we think\nthat they will grow Providentially happy without any of our meddling.\n\n\n83. Let us leave the great things, then, and think of little things; not\nof the destruction of whole provinces in war, which it may not be any\nbusiness of ours to prevent; but of the destruction of poor little\npictures in peace, from which it surely would not be much out of our way\nto save them. You know I said, just now, we were all of us engaged in\npulling pictures to pieces by deputy, and you did not believe me.\nConsider, then, this similitude of ourselves. Suppose you saw (as I\ndoubt not you often do see) a prudent and kind young lady sitting at\nwork, in the corner of a quiet room, knitting comforters for her\ncousins, and that just outside, in the hall, you saw a cat and her\nkittens at play among the family pictures; amusing themselves especially\nwith the best Vandykes, by getting on the tops of the frames, and then\nscrambling down the canvases by their claws; and on some one's informing\nthe young lady of these proceedings of the cat and kittens, suppose she\nanswered that it wasn't her cat, but her sister's, and the pictures\nweren't hers, but her uncle's, and she couldn't leave her work, for she\nhad to make so many pairs of comforters before dinner. Would you not say\nthat the prudent and kind young lady was, on the whole, answerable for\nthe additional touches of claw on the Vandykes?\n\n\n84. Now, that is precisely what we prudent and kind English are doing,\nonly on a larger scale. Here we sit in Manchester, hard at work, very\nproperly, making comforters for our cousins all over the world. Just\noutside there in the hall--that beautiful marble hall of Italy--the cats\nand kittens and monkeys are at play among the pictures: I assure you, in\nthe course of the fifteen years in which I have been working in those\nplaces in which the most precious remnants of European art exist, a\nsensation, whether I would or no, was gradually made distinct and deep\nin my mind, that I was living and working in the midst of a den of\nmonkeys;--sometimes amiable and affectionate monkeys, with all manner of\nwinning ways and kind intentions,--more frequently selfish and\nmalicious monkeys; but, whatever their disposition, squabbling\ncontinually about nuts, and the best places on the barren sticks of\ntrees; and that all this monkeys' den was filled, by mischance, with\nprecious pictures, and the witty and wilful beasts were always wrapping\nthemselves up and going to sleep in pictures, or tearing holes in them\nto grin through; or tasting them and spitting them out again, or\ntwisting them up into ropes and making swings of them; and that\nsometimes only, by watching one's opportunity, and bearing a scratch or\na bite, one could rescue the corner of a Tintoret, or Paul Veronese, and\npush it through the bars into a place of safety.\n\n\n85. Literally, I assure you, this was, and this is, the fixed impression\non my mind of the state of matters in Italy. And see how. The professors\nof art in Italy, having long followed a method of study peculiar to\nthemselves, have at last arrived at a form of art peculiar to\nthemselves; very different from that which was arrived at by Correggio\nand Titian. Naturally, the professors like their own form the best; and,\nas the old pictures are generally not so startling to the eye as the\nmodern ones, the dukes and counts who possess them, and who like to see\ntheir galleries look new and fine (and are persuaded also that a\ncelebrated chef-d'oeuvre ought always to catch the eye at a quarter of a\nmile off), believe the professors who tell them their sober pictures are\nquite faded, and good for nothing, and should all be brought bright\nagain; and, accordingly, give the sober pictures to the professors, to\nbe put right by rules of art. Then, the professors repaint the old\npictures in all the principal places, leaving perhaps only a bit of\nbackground to set off their own work. And thus the professors come to be\ngenerally figured, in my mind, as the monkeys who tear holes in the\npictures, to grin through. Then the picture-dealers, who live by the\npictures, cannot sell them to the English in their old and pure state;\nall the good work must be covered with new paint, and varnished so as to\nlook like one of the professorial pictures in the great gallery, before\nit is saleable. And thus the dealers come to be imaged, in my mind, as\nthe monkeys who make ropes of the pictures, to swing by. Then, every now\nand then at some old stable, or wine-cellar, or timber-shed, behind\nsome forgotten vats or faggots, somebody finds a fresco of Perugino's or\nGiotto's, but doesn't think much of it, and has no idea of having people\ncoming into his cellar, or being obliged to move his faggots; and so he\nwhitewashes the fresco, and puts the faggots back again; and these kind\nof persons, therefore, come generally to be imaged, in my mind, as the\nmonkeys who taste the pictures, and spit them out, not finding them\nnice. While, finally, the squabbling for nuts and apples (called in\nItaly \"bella liberta\") goes on all day long.\n\n\n86. Now, all this might soon be put an end to, if we English, who are so\nfond of travelling in the body, would also travel a little in soul! We\nthink it a great triumph to get our packages and our persons carried at\na fast pace, but we never take the slightest trouble to put any pace\ninto our perceptions; we stay usually at home in thought, or if we ever\nmentally see the world, it is at the old stage-coach or waggon rate. Do\nbut consider what an odd sight it would be, if it were only quite clear\nto you how things are really going on--how, here in England, we are\nmaking enormous and expensive efforts to produce new art of all kinds,\nknowing and confessing all the while that the greater part of it is bad,\nbut struggling still to produce new patterns of wall-papers, and new\nshapes of teapots, and new pictures, and statues, and architecture; and\npluming and cackling if ever a teapot or a picture has the least good in\nit;--all the while taking no thought whatever of the best possible\npictures, and statues, and wall-patterns already in existence, which\nrequire nothing but to be taken common care of, and kept from damp and\ndust: but we let the walls fall that Giotto patterned, and the canvases\nrot that Tintoret painted, and the architecture be dashed to pieces that\nSt. Louis built, while we are furnishing our drawing-rooms with prize\nupholstery, and writing accounts of our handsome warehouses to the\ncountry papers. Don't think I use my words vaguely or generally: I speak\nof literal facts. Giotto's frescoes at Assisi are perishing at this\nmoment for want of decent care; Tintoret's pictures in San Sebastian, at\nVenice, are at this instant rotting piecemeal into grey rags; St.\nLouis's chapel, at Carcassonne, is at this moment lying in shattered\nfragments in the market-place. And here we are all cawing and crowing,\npoor little half-fledged daws as we are, about the pretty sticks and\nwool in our own nests. There's hardly a day passes, when I am at home,\nbut I get a letter from some well-meaning country clergyman, deeply\nanxious about the state of his parish church, and breaking his heart to\nget money together that he may hold up some wretched remnant of Tudor\ntracery, with one niche in the corner and no statue--when all the while\nthe mightiest piles of religious architecture and sculpture that ever\nthe world saw are being blasted and withered away, without one glance of\npity or regret. The country clergyman does not care for _them_--he has a\nsea-sick imagination that cannot cross channel. What is it to him, if\nthe angels of Assisi fade from its vaults, or the queens and kings of\nChartres fall from their pedestals? They are not in his parish.\n\n\n87. \"What!\" you will say, \"are we not to produce any new art, nor take\ncare of our parish churches?\" No, certainly not, until you have taken\nproper care of the art you have got already, and of the best churches\nout of the parish. Your first and proper standing is not as\nchurchwardens and parish overseers, in an English county, but as members\nof the great Christian community of Europe. And as members of that\ncommunity (in which alone, observe, pure and precious ancient art\nexists, for there is none in America, none in Asia, none in Africa), you\nconduct yourselves precisely as a manufacturer would, who attended to\nhis looms, but left his warehouse without a roof. The rain floods your\nwarehouse, the rats frolic in it, the spiders spin in it, the choughs\nbuild in it, the wall-plague frets and festers in it; and still you keep\nweave, weave, weaving at your wretched webs, and thinking you are\ngrowing rich, while more is gnawed out of your warehouse in an hour than\nyou can weave in a twelvemonth.\n\n\n88. Even this similitude is not absurd enough to set us rightly forth.\nThe weaver would, or might, at least, hope that his new woof was as\nstout as the old ones, and that, therefore, in spite of rain and ravage,\nhe would have something to wrap himself in when he needed it. But _our_\nwebs rot as we spin. The very fact that we despise the great art of the\npast shows that we cannot produce great art now. If we could do it, we\nshould love it when we saw it done--if we really cared for it, we should\nrecognize it and keep it; but we don't care for it. It is not art that\nwe want; it is amusement, gratification of pride, present gain--anything\nin the world but art: let it rot, we shall always have enough to talk\nabout and hang over our sideboards.\n\n\n89. You will (I hope) finally ask me what is the outcome of all this,\npracticable tomorrow morning by us who are sitting here? These are the\nmain practical outcomes of it: In the first place, don't grumble when\nyou hear of a new picture being bought by Government at a large price.\nThere are many pictures in Europe now in danger of destruction which\nare, in the true sense of the word, priceless; the proper price is\nsimply that which it is necessary to give to get and to save them. If\nyou can get them for fifty pounds, do; if not for less than a hundred,\ndo; if not for less than five thousand, do; if not for less than twenty\nthousand, do; never mind being imposed upon: there is nothing\ndisgraceful in being imposed upon; the only disgrace is in imposing;\nand you can't in general get anything much worth having, in the way of\nContinental art, but it must be with the help or connivance of numbers\nof people who, indeed, ought to have nothing to do with the matter, but\nwho practically have, and always will have, everything to do with it;\nand if you don't choose to submit to be cheated by them out of a ducat\nhere and a zecchin there, you will be cheated by them out of your\npicture; and whether you are most imposed upon in losing that, or the\nzecchins, I think I may leave you to judge; though I know there are many\npolitical economists, who would rather leave a bag of gold on a\ngarret-table, than give a porter sixpence extra to carry it downstairs.\n\nThat, then, is the first practical outcome of the matter. Never grumble,\nbut be glad when you hear of a new picture being bought at a large\nprice. In the long run, the dearest pictures are always the best\nbargains; and, I repeat, (for else you might think I said it in mere\nhurry of talk, and not deliberately,) there are some pictures which are\nwithout price. You should stand, nationally, at the edge of Dover\ncliffs--Shakespeare's--and wave blank cheques in the eyes of the nations\non the other side of the sea, freely offered, for such and such canvases\nof theirs.\n\n\n90. Then the next practical outcome of it is--Never buy a copy of a\npicture, under any circumstances whatever. All copies are bad; because\nno painter who is worth a straw ever _will_ copy. He will make a study\nof a picture he likes, for his own use, in his own way; but he won't and\ncan't copy. Whenever you buy a copy, you buy so much misunderstanding of\nthe original, and encourage a dull person in following a business he is\nnot fit for, besides increasing ultimately chances of mistake and\nimposture, and farthering, as directly as money _can_ farther, the cause\nof ignorance in all directions. You may, in fact, consider yourself as\nhaving purchased a certain quantity of mistakes; and, according to your\npower, being engaged in disseminating them.\n\n\n91. I do not mean, however, that copies should never be made. A certain\nnumber of dull persons should always be employed by a Government in\nmaking the most accurate copies possible of all good pictures; these\ncopies, though artistically valueless, would be historically and\ndocumentarily valuable, in the event of the destruction of the original\npicture. The studies also made by great artists for their own use,\nshould be sought after with the greatest eagerness; they are often to be\nbought cheap; and in connection with the mechanical copies, would become\nvery precious: tracings from frescoes and other large works are also of\ngreat value; for though a tracing is liable to just as many mistakes as\na copy, the mistakes in a tracing are of one kind only, which may be\nallowed for, but the mistakes of a common copyist are of all conceivable\nkinds: finally, engravings, in so far as they convey certain facts about\nthe pictures, without pretending adequately to represent or give an idea\nof the pictures, are often serviceable and valuable. I can't, of course,\nenter into details in these matters just now; only this main piece of\nadvice I can safely give you--never to buy copies of pictures (for your\nprivate possession) which pretend to give a facsimile that shall be in\nany wise representative of, or equal to, the original. Whenever you do\nso, you are only lowering your taste, and wasting your money. And if\nyou are generous and wise, you will be ready rather to subscribe as much\nas you would have given for a copy of a great picture towards its\npurchase, or the purchase of some other like it, by the nation. There\nought to be a great National Society instituted for the purchase of\npictures; presenting them to the various galleries in our great cities,\nand watching there over their safety: but in the meantime, you can\nalways act safely and beneficially by merely allowing your artist\nfriends to buy pictures for you, when they see good ones. Never buy for\nyourselves, nor go to the foreign dealers; but let any painter whom you\nknow be entrusted, when he finds a neglected old picture in an old\nhouse, to try if he cannot get it for you; then, if you like it, keep\nit; if not, send it to the hammer, and you will find that you do not\nlose money on pictures so purchased.\n\n\n92. And the third and chief practical outcome of the matter is this\ngeneral one: Wherever you go, whatever you do, act more for\n_preservation_ and less for _production_. I assure you, the world is,\ngenerally speaking, in calamitous disorder, and just because you have\nmanaged to thrust some of the lumber aside, and get an available corner\nfor yourselves, you think you should do nothing but sit spinning in it\nall day long--while, as householders and economists, your first thought\nand effort should be, to set things more square all about you. Try to\nset the ground floors in order, and get the rottenness out of your\ngranaries. _Then_ sit and spin, but not till then.\n\n\n93. IV. DISTRIBUTION.--And now, lastly, we come to the fourth great head\nof our inquiry, the question of the wise distribution of the art we have\ngathered and preserved. It must be evident to us, at a moment's thought,\nthat the way in which works of art are on the whole most useful to the\nnation to which they belong, must be by their collection in public\ngalleries, supposing those galleries properly managed. But there is one\ndisadvantage attached necessarily to gallery exhibition--namely, the\nextent of mischief which may be done by one foolish curator. As long as\nthe pictures which form the national wealth are disposed in private\ncollections, the chance is always that the people who buy them will be\njust the people who are fond of them; and that the sense of exchangeable\nvalue in the commodity they possess, will induce them, even if they do\nnot esteem it themselves, to take such care of it as will preserve its\nvalue undiminished. At all events, so long as works of art are scattered\nthrough the nation, no universal destruction of them is possible; a\ncertain average only are lost by accidents from time to time. But when\nthey are once collected in a large public gallery, if the appointment of\ncurator becomes in any way a matter of formality, or the post is so\nlucrative as to be disputed by place-hunters, let but one foolish or\ncareless person get possession of it, and perhaps you may have all your\nfine pictures repainted, and the national property destroyed, in a\nmonth. That is actually the case at this moment, in several great\nforeign galleries. They are the places of execution of pictures: over\ntheir doors you only want the Dantesque inscription, \"Lasciate ogni\nsperanza, voi che entrate.\"\n\n\n94. Supposing, however, this danger properly guarded against, as it\nwould be always by a nation which either knew the value, or understood\nthe meaning, of painting,[12] arrangement in a public gallery is the\nsafest, as well as the most serviceable, method of exhibiting pictures;\nand it is the only mode in which their historical value can be brought\nout, and their historical meaning made clear. But great good is also to\nbe done by encouraging the private possession of pictures; partly as a\nmeans of study, (much more being always discovered in any work of art by\na person who has it perpetually near him than by one who only sees it\nfrom time to time,) and also as a means of refining the habits and\ntouching the hearts of the masses of the nation in their domestic life.\n\n[Note 12: It would be a great point gained towards the preservation\nof pictures if it were made a rule that at every operation they\nunderwent, the exact spots in which they have been repainted should be\nrecorded in writing.]\n\n\n95. For these last purposes, the most serviceable art is the living art\nof the time; the particular tastes of the people will be best met, and\ntheir particular ignorances best corrected, by painters labouring in the\nmidst of them, more or less guided to the knowledge of what is wanted by\nthe degree of sympathy with which their work is received. So then,\ngenerally, it should be the object of government, and of all patrons of\nart, to collect, as far as may be, the works of dead masters in public\ngalleries, arranging them so as to illustrate the history of nations,\nand the progress and influence of their arts; and to encourage the\nprivate possession of the works of _living_ masters. And the first and\nbest way in which to encourage such private possession is, of course, to\nkeep down the prices of them as far as you can.\n\nI hope there are not a great many painters in the room; if there are, I\nentreat their patience for the next quarter of an hour: if they will\nbear with me for so long, I hope they will not, finally, be offended by\nwhat I am going to say.\n\n\n96. I repeat, trusting to their indulgence in the interim, that the\nfirst object of our national economy, as respects the distribution of\nmodern art, should be steadily and rationally to limit its prices, since\nby doing so, you will produce two effects: you will make the painters\nproduce more pictures, two or three instead of one, if they wish to make\nmoney; and you will, by bringing good pictures within the reach of\npeople of moderate income, excite the general interest of the nation in\nthem, increase a thousandfold the demand for the commodity, and\ntherefore its wholesome and natural production.\n\n\n97. I know how many objections must arise in your minds at this moment\nto what I say; but you must be aware that it is not possible for me in\nan hour to explain all the moral and commercial bearings of such a\nprinciple as this. Only, believe me, I do not speak lightly; I think I\nhave considered all the objections which could be rationally brought\nforward, though I have time at present only to glance at the main\none--namely, the idea that the high prices paid for modern pictures are\neither honourable, or serviceable, to the painter. So far from this\nbeing so, I believe one of the principal obstacles to the progress of\nmodern art to be the high prices given for good modern pictures. For\nobserve first the action of this high remuneration on the artist's mind.\nIf he \"gets on,\" as it is called, catches the eye of the public, and\nespecially of the public of the upper classes, there is hardly any limit\nto the fortune he may acquire; so that, in his early years, his mind is\nnaturally led to dwell on this worldly and wealthy eminence as the main\nthing to be reached by his art; if he finds that he is not gradually\nrising towards it, he thinks there is something wrong in his work; or,\nif he is too proud to think that, still the bribe of wealth and honour\nwarps him from his honest labour into efforts to attract attention; and\nhe gradually loses both his power of mind and his rectitude of purpose.\nThis, according to the degree of avarice or ambition which exists in any\npainter's mind, is the necessary influence upon him of the hope of great\nwealth and reputation. But the harm is still greater, in so far as the\npossibility of attaining fortune of this kind tempts people continually\nto become painters who have no real gift for the work; and on whom these\nmotives of mere worldly interest have exclusive influence;--men who\ntorment and abuse the patient workers, eclipse or thrust aside all\ndelicate and good pictures by their own gaudy and coarse ones, corrupt\nthe taste of the public, and do the greatest amount of mischief to the\nschools of art in their day which it is possible for their capacities to\neffect; and it is quite wonderful how much mischief may be done even by\nsmall capacity. If you could by any means succeed in keeping the prices\nof pictures down, you would throw all these disturbers out of the way at\nonce.\n\n\n98. You may perhaps think that this severe treatment would do more harm\nthan good, by withdrawing the wholesome element of emulation, and giving\nno stimulus to exertion; but I am sorry to say that artists will always\nbe sufficiently jealous of one another, whether you pay them large or\nlow prices; and as for stimulus to exertion, believe me, no good work in\nthis world was ever done for money, nor while the slightest thought of\nmoney affected the painter's mind. Whatever idea of pecuniary value\nenters into his thoughts as he works, will, in proportion to the\ndistinctness of its presence, shorten his power. A real painter will\nwork for you exquisitely, if you give him, as I told you a little while\nago, bread and water and salt; and a bad painter will work badly and\nhastily, though you give him a palace to live in, and a princedom to\nlive upon. Turner got, in his earlier years, half a crown a day and his\nsupper (not bad pay, neither); and he learned to paint upon that. And I\nbelieve that there is no chance of art's truly flourishing in any\ncountry, until you make it a simple and plain business, providing its\nmasters with an easy competence, but rarely with anything more. And I\nsay this, not because I despise the great painter, but because I honour\nhim; and I should no more think of adding to his respectability or\nhappiness by giving him riches, than, if Shakespeare or Milton were\nalive, I should think we added to _their_ respectability, or were likely\nto get better work from them, by making them millionaires.\n\n\n99. But, observe, it is not only the painter himself whom you injure, by\ngiving him too high prices; you injure all the inferior painters of the\nday. If they are modest, they will be discouraged and depressed by the\nfeeling that their doings are worth so little, comparatively, in your\neyes;--if proud, all their worst passions will be aroused, and the\ninsult or opprobrium which they will try to cast on their successful\nrival will not only afflict and wound him, but at last sour and harden\nhim: he cannot pass through such a trial without grievous harm.\n\n\n100. That, then, is the effect you produce on the painter of mark, and\non the inferior ones of his own standing. But you do worse than this;\nyou deprive yourselves, by what you give for the fashionable picture, of\nthe power of helping the younger men who are coming forward. Be it\nadmitted, for argument's sake, if you are not convinced by what I have\nsaid, that you do no harm to the great man by paying him well; yet\ncertainly you do him no special good. His reputation is established, and\nhis fortune made; he does not care whether you buy or not; he thinks he\nis rather doing you a favour than otherwise by letting you have one of\nhis pictures at all. All the good you do him is to help him to buy a new\npair of carriage horses; whereas, with that same sum which thus you cast\naway, you might have relieved the hearts and preserved the health of\ntwenty young painters; and if, among those twenty, you but chanced on\none in whom a true latent power had been hindered by his poverty, just\nconsider what a far-branching, far-embracing good you have wrought with\nthat lucky expenditure of yours. I say, \"Consider it,\" in vain; you\ncannot consider it, for you cannot conceive the sickness of heart with\nwhich a young painter of deep feeling toils through his first\nobscurity;--his sense of the strong voice within him, which you will not\nhear;--his vain, fond, wondering witness to the things you will not\nsee;--his far-away perception of things that he could accomplish if he\nhad but peace, and time, all unapproachable and vanishing from him,\nbecause no one will leave him peace or grant him time: all his friends\nfalling back from him; those whom he would most reverently obey rebuking\nand paralysing him; and, last and worst of all, those who believe in him\nthe most faithfully suffering by him the most bitterly;--the wife's\neyes, in their sweet ambition, shining brighter as the cheek wastes\naway; and the little lips at his side parched and pale, which one day,\nhe knows, though he may never see it, will quiver so proudly when they\ncall his name, calling him \"our father.\" You deprive yourselves, by your\nlarge expenditure for pictures of mark, of the power of relieving and\nredeeming _this_ distress; you injure the painter whom you pay so\nlargely;--and what, after all, have you done for yourselves or got for\nyourselves? It does not in the least follow that the hurried work of a\nfashionable painter will contain more for your money than the quiet work\nof some unknown man. In all probability, you will find, if you rashly\npurchase what is popular at a high price, that you have got one picture\nyou don't care for, for a sum which would have bought twenty you would\nhave delighted in.\n\n\n101. For remember always, that the price of a picture by a living artist\nnever represents, never _can_ represent, the quantity of labour or value\nin it. Its price represents, for the most part, the degree of desire\nwhich the rich people of the country have to possess it. Once get the\nwealthy classes to imagine that the possession of pictures by a given\nartist adds to their \"gentility,\" and there is no price which his work\nmay not immediately reach, and for years maintain; and in buying at that\nprice, you are not getting value for your money, but merely disputing\nfor victory in a contest of ostentation. And it is hardly possible to\nspend your money in a worse or more wasteful way; for though you may not\nbe doing it for ostentation yourself, you are, by your pertinacity,\nnourishing the ostentation of others; you meet them in their game of\nwealth, and continue it for them; if they had not found an opposite\nplayer, the game would have been done; for a proud man can find no\nenjoyment in possessing himself of what nobody disputes with him. So\nthat by every farthing you give for a picture beyond its fair\nprice--that is to say, the price which will pay the painter for his\ntime--you are not only cheating yourself and buying vanity, but you are\nstimulating the vanity of others; paying, literally, for the cultivation\nof pride. You may consider every pound that you spend above the just\nprice of a work of art, as an investment in a cargo of mental quick-lime\nor guano, which, being laid on the fields of human nature, is to grow a\nharvest of pride. You are in fact ploughing and harrowing, in a most\nvaluable part of your land, in order to reap the whirlwind; you are\nsetting your hand stoutly to Job's agriculture--\"Let thistles grow\ninstead of wheat, and cockle instead of barley.\"\n\n\n102. Well, but you will say, there is one advantage in high prices,\nwhich more than counter-balances all this mischief, namely, that by\ngreat reward we both urge and enable a painter to produce rather one\nperfect picture than many inferior ones: and one perfect picture (so you\ntell us, and we believe it) is worth a great number of inferior ones.\n\nIt is so; but you cannot get it by paying for it. A great work is only\ndone when the painter gets into the humour for it, likes his subject,\nand determines to paint it as well as he can, whether he is paid for it\nor not; but bad work, and generally the worst sort of bad work, is done\nwhen he is trying to produce a showy picture, or one that shall appear\nto have as much labour in it as shall be worth a high price.[13]\n\n[Note 13: When this lecture was delivered, I gave here some data for\napproximate estimates of the average value of good modern pictures of\ndifferent classes; but the subject is too complicated to be adequately\ntreated in writing, without introducing more detail than the reader will\nhave patience for. But I may state, roughly, that prices above a hundred\nguineas are in general extravagant for water-colours, and above five\nhundred for oils. An artist almost always does wrong who puts more work\nthan these prices will remunerate him for into any single canvas--his\ntalent would be better employed in painting two pictures than one so\nelaborate. The water-colour painters also are getting into the habit of\nmaking their drawings too large, and in a measure attaching their price\nrather to breadth and extent of touch than to thoughtful labour. Of\ncourse marked exceptions occur here and there, as in the case of John\nLewis, whose drawings are wrought with unfailing precision throughout,\nwhatever their scale. Hardly any price can be remunerative for such\nwork.]\n\n\n103. There is, however, another point, and a still more important one,\nbearing on this matter of purchase, than the keeping down of prices to\na rational standard. And that is, that you pay your prices into the\nhands of living men, and do not pour them into coffins.\n\nFor observe that, as we arrange our payment of pictures at present, no\nartist's work is worth half its proper value while he is alive. The\nmoment he dies, his pictures, if they are good, reach double their\nformer value; but, that rise of price represents simply a profit made by\nthe intelligent dealer or purchaser on his past purchases. So that the\nreal facts of the matter are, that the British public, spending a\ncertain sum annually in art, determines that, of every thousand it pays,\nonly five hundred shall go to the painter, or shall be at all concerned\nin the production of art; and that the other five hundred shall be paid\nmerely as a testimonial to the intelligent dealer, who knew what to buy.\nNow, testimonials are very pretty and proper things, within due limits;\nbut testimonial to the amount of a hundred per cent. on the total\nexpenditure is not good political economy. Do not, therefore, in\ngeneral, unless you see it to be necessary for its preservation, buy the\npicture of a dead artist. If you fear that it may be exposed to contempt\nor neglect, buy it; its price will then, probably, not be high: if you\nwant to put it into a public gallery, buy it; you are sure, then, that\nyou do not spend your money selfishly: or, if you loved the man's work\nwhile he was alive, and bought it then, buy it also now, if you can see\nno living work equal to it. But if you did not buy it while the man was\nliving, never buy it after he is dead: you are then doing no good to\nhim, and you are doing some shame to yourself. Look around you for\npictures that you really like, and in buying which you can help some\ngenius yet unperished--that is the best atonement you can make to the\none you have neglected--and give to the living and struggling painter at\nonce wages, and testimonial.\n\n\n104. So far then of the motives which should induce us to keep down the\nprices of modern art, and thus render it, as a private possession,\nattainable by greater numbers of people than at present. But we should\nstrive to render it accessible to them in other ways also--chiefly by\nthe permanent decoration of public buildings; and it is in this field\nthat I think we may look for the profitable means of providing that\nconstant employment for young painters of which we were speaking last\nevening.\n\nThe first and most important kind of public buildings which we are\nalways sure to want, are schools: and I would ask you to consider very\ncarefully, whether we may not wisely introduce some great changes in the\nway of school decoration. Hitherto, as far as I know, it has either been\nso difficult to give all the education we wanted to our lads, that we\nhave been obliged to do it, if at all, with cheap furniture and bare\nwalls; or else we have considered that cheap furniture and bare walls\nare a proper part of the means of education; and supposed that boys\nlearned best when they sat on hard forms, and had nothing but blank\nplaster about and above them whereupon to employ their spare attention;\nalso, that it was as well they should be accustomed to rough and ugly\nconditions of things, partly by way of preparing them for the hardships\nof life, and partly that there might be the least possible damage done\nto floors and forms, in the event of their becoming, during the master's\nabsence, the fields or instruments of battle. All this is so far well\nand necessary, as it relates to the training of country lads, and the\nfirst training of boys in general. But there certainly comes a period in\nthe life of a well-educated youth, in which one of the principal\nelements of his education is, or ought to be, to give him refinement of\nhabits; and not only to teach him the strong exercises of which his\nframe is capable, but also to increase his bodily sensibility and\nrefinement, and show him such small matters as the way of handling\nthings properly, and treating them considerately.\n\n\n105. Not only so; but I believe the notion of fixing the attention by\nkeeping the room empty, is a wholly mistaken one: I think it is just in\nthe emptiest room that the mind wanders most; for it gets restless, like\na bird, for want of a perch, and casts about for any possible means of\ngetting out and away. And even if it be fixed, by an effort, on the\nbusiness in hand, that business becomes itself repulsive, more than it\nneed be, by the vileness of its associations; and many a study appears\ndull or painful to a boy, when it is pursued on a blotted deal desk,\nunder a wall with nothing on it but scratches and pegs, which would have\nbeen pursued pleasantly enough in a curtained corner of his father's\nlibrary, or at the lattice window of his cottage. Now, my own belief is,\nthat the best study of all is the most beautiful; and that a quiet glade\nof forest, or the nook of a lake shore, are worth all the schoolrooms in\nChristendom, when once you are past the multiplication table; but be\nthat as it may, there is no question at all but that a time ought to\ncome in the life of a well-trained youth, when he can sit at a\nwriting-table without wanting to throw the inkstand at his neighbour;\nand when also he will feel more capable of certain efforts of mind with\nbeautiful and refined forms about him than with ugly ones. When that\ntime comes, he ought to be advanced into the decorated schools; and this\nadvance ought to be one of the important and honourable epochs of his\nlife.\n\n\n106. I have not time, however, to insist on the mere serviceableness to\nour youth of refined architectural decoration, as such; for I want you\nto consider the probable influence of the particular kind of decoration\nwhich I wish you to get for them, namely, historical painting. You know\nwe have hitherto been in the habit of conveying all our historical\nknowledge, such as it is, by the ear only, never by the eye; all our\nnotion of things being ostensibly derived from verbal description, not\nfrom sight. Now, I have no doubt that, as we grow gradually wiser--and\nwe are doing so every day--we shall discover at last that the eye is a\nnobler organ than the ear; and that through the eye we must, in reality,\nobtain, or put into form, nearly all the useful information we are to\nhave about this world. Even as the matter stands, you will find that the\nknowledge which a boy is supposed to receive from verbal description is\nonly available to him so far as in any underhand way he gets a sight of\nthe thing you are talking about. I remember well that, for many years of\nmy life, the only notion I had of the look of a Greek knight was\ncomplicated between recollection of a small engraving in my pocket\nPope's Homer, and reverent study of the Horse Guards. And though I\nbelieve that most boys collect their ideas from more varied sources and\narrange them more carefully than I did; still, whatever sources they\nseek must always be ocular: if they are clever boys, they will go and\nlook at the Greek vases and sculptures in the British Museum, and at the\nweapons in our armouries--they will see what real armour is like in\nlustre, and what Greek armour was like in form, and so put a fairly true\nimage together, but still not, in ordinary cases, a very living or\ninteresting one.\n\n\n107. Now, the use of your decorative painting would be, in myriads of\nways, to animate their history for them, and to put the living aspect of\npast things before their eyes as faithfully as intelligent invention\ncan; so that the master shall have nothing to do but once to point to\nthe schoolroom walls, and for ever afterwards the meaning of any word\nwould be fixed in a boy's mind in the best possible way. Is it a\nquestion of classical dress--what a tunic was like, or a chlamys, or a\npeplus? At this day, you have to point to some vile woodcut, in the\nmiddle of a dictionary page, representing the thing hung upon a stick;\nbut then, you would point to a hundred figures, wearing the actual\ndress, in its fiery colours, in all actions of various stateliness or\nstrength; you would understand at once how it fell round the people's\nlimbs as they stood, how it drifted from their shoulders as they went,\nhow it veiled their faces as they wept, how it covered their heads in\nthe day of battle. _Now_, if you want to see what a weapon is like, you\nrefer, in like manner, to a numbered page, in which there are\nspear-heads in rows, and sword-hilts in symmetrical groups; and\ngradually the boy gets a dim mathematical notion how one scimitar is\nhooked to the right and another to the left, and one javelin has a knob\nto it and another none: while one glance at your good picture would show\nhim,--and the first rainy afternoon in the schoolroom would for ever fix\nin his mind,--the look of the sword and spear as they fell or flew; and\nhow they pierced, or bent, or shattered--how men wielded them, and how\nmen died by them.\n\n\n108. But far more than all this, is it a question not of clothes or\nweapons, but of men? how can we sufficiently estimate the effect on the\nmind of a noble youth, at the time when the world opens to him, of\nhaving faithful and touching representations put before him of the acts\nand presences of great men--how many a resolution, which would alter and\nexalt the whole course of his after-life, might be formed, when in some\ndreamy twilight he met, through his own tears, the fixed eyes of those\nshadows of the great dead, unescapable and calm, piercing to his soul;\nor fancied that their lips moved in dread reproof or soundless\nexhortation? And if but for one out of many this were true--if yet, in a\nfew, you could be sure that such influence had indeed changed their\nthoughts and destinies, and turned the eager and reckless youth, who\nwould have cast away his energies on the race-horse or the\ngambling-table, to that noble life-race, that holy life-hazard, which\nshould win all glory to himself and all good to his country,--would not\nthat, to some purpose, be \"political economy of art\"?\n\n\n109. And observe, there could be no monotony, no exhaustibleness, in the\nscenes required to be thus portrayed. Even if there were, and you\nwanted for every school in the kingdom, one death of Leonidas; one\nbattle of Marathon; one death of Cleobis and Bito; there need not\ntherefore be more monotony in your art than there was in the repetition\nof a given cycle of subjects by the religious painters of Italy. But we\nought not to admit a cycle at all. For though we had as many great\nschools as we have great cities (one day I hope we _shall_ have),\ncenturies of painting would not exhaust, in all the number of them, the\nnoble and pathetic subjects which might be chosen from the history of\neven one noble nation. But, beside this, you will not, in a little\nwhile, limit your youths' studies to so narrow fields as you do now.\nThere will come a time--I am sure of it--when it will be found that the\nsame practical results, both in mental discipline and in political\nphilosophy, are to be attained by the accurate study of mediaeval and\nmodern as of ancient history; and that the facts of mediaeval and modern\nhistory are, on the whole, the most important to us. And among these\nnoble groups of constellated schools which I foresee arising in our\nEngland, I foresee also that there will be divided fields of thought;\nand that while each will give its scholars a great general idea of the\nworld's history, such as all men should possess--each will also take\nupon itself, as its own special duty, the closer study of the course of\nevents in some given place or time. It will review the rest of history,\nbut it will exhaust its own special field of it; and found its moral and\npolitical teaching on the most perfect possible analysis of the results\nof human conduct in one place, and at one epoch. And then, the galleries\nof that school will be painted with the historical scenes belonging to\nthe age which it has chosen for its special study.\n\n\n110. So far, then, of art as you may apply it to that great series of\npublic buildings which you devote to the education of youth. The next\nlarge class of public buildings in which we should introduce it, is one\nwhich I think a few years more of national progress will render more\nserviceable to us than they have been lately. I mean, buildings for the\nmeetings of guilds of trades.\n\nAnd here, for the last time, I must again interrupt the course of our\nchief inquiry, in order to state one other principle of political\neconomy, which is perfectly simple and indisputable; but which,\nnevertheless, we continually get into commercial embarrassments for want\nof understanding; and not only so, but suffer much hindrance in our\ncommercial discoveries, because many of our business men do not\npractically admit it.\n\nSupposing half a dozen or a dozen men were cast ashore from a wreck on\nan uninhabited island, and left to their own resources, one of course,\naccording to his capacity, would be set to one business and one to\nanother; the strongest to dig and cut wood, and to build huts for the\nrest: the most dexterous to make shoes out of bark and coats out of\nskins; the best educated to look for iron or lead in the rocks, and to\nplan the channels for the irrigation of the fields. But though their\nlabours were thus naturally severed, that small group of shipwrecked men\nwould understand well enough that the speediest progress was to be made\nby helping each other,--not by opposing each other: and they would know\nthat this help could only be properly given so long as they were frank\nand open in their relations, and the difficulties which each lay under\nproperly explained to the rest. So that any appearance of secrecy or\nseparateness in the actions of any of them would instantly, and justly,\nbe looked upon with suspicion by the rest, as the sign of some selfish\nor foolish proceeding on the part of the individual. If, for instance,\nthe scientific man were found to have gone out at night, unknown to the\nrest, to alter the sluices, the others would think, and in all\nprobability rightly think, that he wanted to get the best supply of\nwater to his own field; and if the shoemaker refused to show them where\nthe bark grew which he made the sandals of, they would naturally think,\nand in all probability rightly think, that he didn't want them to see\nhow much there was of it, and that he meant to ask from them more corn\nand potatoes in exchange for his sandals than the trouble of making them\ndeserved. And thus, although each man would have a portion of time to\nhimself in which he was allowed to do what he chose without let or\ninquiry,--so long as he was working in that particular business which he\nhad undertaken for the common benefit, any secrecy on his part would be\nimmediately supposed to mean mischief; and would require to be accounted\nfor, or put an end to: and this all the more because whatever the work\nmight be, certainly there would be difficulties about it which, when\nonce they were well explained, might be more or less done away with by\nthe help of the rest; so that assuredly every one of them would advance\nwith his labour not only more happily, but more profitably and quickly,\nby having no secrets, and by frankly bestowing, and frankly receiving,\nsuch help as lay in his way to get or to give.\n\n\n111. And, just as the best and richest result of wealth and happiness to\nthe whole of them would follow on their perseverance in such a system of\nfrank communication and of helpful labour;--so precisely the worst and\npoorest result would be obtained by a system of secrecy and of enmity;\nand each man's happiness and wealth would assuredly be diminished in\nproportion to the degree in which jealousy and concealment became their\nsocial and economical principles. It would not, in the long run, bring\ngood, but only evil, to the man of science, if, instead of telling\nopenly where he had found good iron, he carefully concealed every new\nbed of it, that he might ask, in exchange for the rare ploughshare, more\ncorn from the farmer, or, in exchange for the rude needle, more labour\nfrom the sempstress: and it would not ultimately bring good, but only\nevil, to the farmers, if they sought to burn each other's cornstacks,\nthat they might raise the value of their grain, or if the sempstresses\ntried to break each other's needles, that each might get all the\nstitching to herself.\n\n\n112. Now, these laws of human action are precisely as authoritative in\ntheir application to the conduct of a million of men, as to that of six\nor twelve. All enmity, jealousy, opposition, and secrecy are wholly, and\nin all circumstances, destructive in their nature--not productive; and\nall kindness, fellowship, and communicativeness are invariably\nproductive in their operation,--not destructive; and the evil principles\nof opposition and exclusiveness are not rendered less fatal, but more\nfatal, by their acceptance among large masses of men; more fatal, I say,\nexactly in proportion as their influence is more secret. For though the\nopposition does always its own simple, necessary, direct quantity of\nharm, and withdraws always its own simple, necessary, measurable\nquantity of wealth from the sum possessed by the community, yet, in\nproportion to the size of the community, it does another and more\nrefined mischief than this, by concealing its own fatality under aspects\nof mercantile complication and expediency, and giving rise to multitudes\nof false theories based on a mean belief in narrow and immediate\nappearances of good done here and there by things which have the\nuniversal and everlasting nature of evil. So that the time and powers of\nthe nation are wasted, not only in wretched struggling against each\nother, but in vain complaints, and groundless discouragements, and empty\ninvestigations, and useless experiments in laws, and elections, and\ninventions; with hope always to pull wisdom through some new-shaped slit\nin a ballot-box, and to drag prosperity down out of the clouds along\nsome new knot of electric wire; while all the while Wisdom stands\ncalling at the corners of the streets, and the blessing of Heaven waits\nready to rain down upon us, deeper than the rivers and broader than the\ndew, if only we will obey the first plain principles of humanity, and\nthe first plain precepts of the skies: \"Execute true judgment, and show\nmercy and compassion, every man to his brother; and let none of you\nimagine evil against his brother in your heart.\"[14]\n\n[Note 14: It would be well if, instead of preaching continually\nabout the doctrine of faith and good works, our clergymen would simply\nexplain to their people a little what good works mean. There is not a\nchapter in all the book we profess to believe, more specially and\ndirectly written for England than the second of Habakkuk, and I never in\nall my life heard one of its practical texts preached from. I suppose\nthe clergymen are all afraid, and know their flocks, while they will sit\nquite politely to hear syllogisms out of the epistle to the Romans,\nwould get restive directly if they ever pressed a practical text home to\nthem. But we should have no mercantile catastrophes, and no distressful\npauperism, if we only read often, and took to heart, those plain\nwords:--\"Yea, also, because he is a proud man, neither keepeth at home,\nwho enlargeth his desire as hell, and cannot be satisfied,--Shall not\nall these take up a parable against him, and a taunting proverb against\nhim, and say, 'Woe to him that increaseth that which is not his: and to\nhim that _ladeth himself with thick clay_'?\" (What a glorious history in\none metaphor, of the life of a man greedy of fortune!) \"Woe to him that\ncoveteth an evil covetousness that he may set his nest on high. Woe to\nhim that buildeth a town with blood, and establisheth a city by\niniquity. Behold, is it not of the Lord of Hosts that the people shall\nlabour in the very fire, and the people shall weary themselves for very\nvanity?\"\n\nThe Americans, who have been sending out ships with sham bolt-heads on\ntheir timbers, and only half their bolts, may meditate on that \"buildeth\na town with blood.\"]\n\n\n113. Therefore, I believe most firmly, that as the laws of national\nprosperity get familiar to us, we shall more and more cast our toil into\nsocial and communicative systems; and that one of the first means of our\ndoing so, will be the re-establishing guilds of every important trade in\na vital, not formal, condition;--that there will be a great council or\ngovernment house for the members of every trade, built in whatever town\nof the kingdom occupies itself principally in such trade, with minor\ncouncil-halls in other cities; and to each council-hall, officers\nattached, whose first business may be to examine into the circumstances\nof every operative, in that trade, who chooses to report himself to them\nwhen out of work, and to set him to work, if he is indeed able and\nwilling, at a fixed rate of wages, determined at regular periods in the\ncouncil-meetings; and whose next duty may be to bring reports before the\ncouncil of all improvements made in the business, and means of its\nextension: not allowing private patents of any kind, but making all\nimprovements available to every member of the guild, only allotting,\nafter successful trial of them, a certain reward to the inventors.\n\n\n114. For these, and many other such purposes, such halls will be again,\nI trust, fully established, and then, in the paintings and decorations\nof them, especial effort ought to be made to express the worthiness and\nhonourableness of the trade for whose members they are founded. For I\nbelieve one of the worst symptoms of modern society to be, its notion of\ngreat inferiority, and ungentlemanliness, as necessarily belonging to\nthe character of a tradesman. I believe tradesmen may be, ought to\nbe--often are, more gentlemen than idle and useless people: and I\nbelieve that art may do noble work by recording in the hall of each\ntrade, the services which men belonging to that trade have done for\ntheir country, both preserving the portraits, and recording the\nimportant incidents in the lives, of those who have made great advances\nin commerce and civilization. I cannot follow out this subject--it\nbranches too far, and in too many directions; besides, I have no doubt\nyou will at once see and accept the truth of the main principle, and be\nable to think it out for yourselves. I would fain also have said\nsomething of what might be done, in the same manner, for almshouses and\nhospitals, and for what, as I shall try to explain in notes to this\nlecture, we may hope to see, some day, established with a different\nmeaning in their name than that they now bear--work-houses; but I have\ndetained you too long already, and cannot permit myself to trespass\nfurther on your patience except only to recapitulate, in closing, the\nsimple principles respecting wealth which we have gathered during the\ncourse of our inquiry; principles which are nothing more than the\nliteral and practical acceptance of the saying which is in all good\nmen's mouths--namely, that they are stewards or ministers of whatever\ntalents are entrusted to them.\n\n\n115. Only, is it not a strange thing, that while we more or less accept\nthe meaning of that saying, so long as it is considered metaphorical, we\nnever accept its meaning in its own terms? You know the lesson is given\nus under the form of a story about money. Money was given to the\nservants to make use of: the unprofitable servant dug in the earth, and\nhid his lord's money. Well, we, in our political and spiritual\napplication of this, say, that of course money doesn't mean money: it\nmeans wit, it means intellect, it means influence in high quarters, it\nmeans everything in the world except itself. And do not you see what a\npretty and pleasant come-off there is for most of us, in this spiritual\napplication? Of course, if we had wit, we would use it for the good of\nour fellow-creatures. But we haven't wit. Of course, if we had influence\nwith the bishops, we would use it for the good of the Church; but we\nhaven't any influence with the bishops. Of course, if we had political\npower, we would use it for the good of the nation; but we have no\npolitical power; we have no talents entrusted to us of any sort or kind.\nIt is true we have a little money, but the parable can't possibly mean\nanything so vulgar as money; our money's our own.\n\n\n116. I believe, if you think seriously of this matter, you will feel\nthat the first and most literal application is just as necessary a one\nas any other--that the story does very specially mean what it\nsays--plain money; and that the reason we don't at once believe it does\nso, is a sort of tacit idea that while thought, wit, and intellect, and\nall power of birth and position, are indeed _given_ to us, and,\ntherefore, to be laid out for the Giver--our wealth has not been given\nto us; but we have worked for it, and have a right to spend it as we\nchoose. I think you will find that is the real substance of our\nunderstanding in this matter. Beauty, we say, is given by God--it is a\ntalent; strength is given by God--it is a talent; position is given by\nGod--it is a talent; but money is proper wages for our day's work--it is\nnot a talent, it is a due. We may justly spend it on ourselves, if we\nhave worked for it.\n\n\n117. And there would be some shadow of excuse for this, were it not that\nthe very power of making the money is itself only one of the\napplications of that intellect or strength which we confess to be\ntalents. Why is one man richer than another? Because he is more\nindustrious, more persevering, and more sagacious. Well, who made him\nmore persevering or more sagacious than others? That power of endurance,\nthat quickness of apprehension, that calmness of judgment, which enable\nhim to seize the opportunities that others lose, and persist in the\nlines of conduct in which others fail--are these not talents?--are they\nnot, in the present state of the world, among the most distinguished and\ninfluential of mental gifts? And is it not wonderful, that while we\nshould be utterly ashamed to use a superiority of body, in order to\nthrust our weaker companions aside from some place of advantage, we\nunhesitatingly use our superiorities of mind to thrust them back from\nwhatever good that strength of mind can attain? You would be indignant\nif you saw a strong man walk into a theatre or a lecture-room, and,\ncalmly choosing the best place, take his feeble neighbour by the\nshoulder, and turn him out of it into the back seats, or the street. You\nwould be equally indignant if you saw a stout fellow thrust himself up\nto a table where some hungry children were being fed, and reach his arm\nover their heads and take their bread from them. But you are not the\nleast indignant if, when a man has stoutness of thought and swiftness of\ncapacity, and, instead of being long-armed only, has the much greater\ngift of being long-headed--you think it perfectly just that he should\nuse his intellect to take the bread out of the mouths of all the other\nmen in the town who are of the same trade with him; or use his breadth\nand sweep of sight to gather some branch of the commerce of the country\ninto one great cobweb, of which he is himself to be the central spider,\nmaking every thread vibrate with the points of his claws, and commanding\nevery avenue with the facets of his eyes. You see no injustice in this.\n\n\n118. But there is injustice; and, let us trust, one of which honourable\nmen will at no very distant period disdain to be guilty. In some degree,\nhowever, it is indeed not unjust; in some degree, it is necessary and\nintended. It is assuredly just that idleness should be surpassed by\nenergy; that the widest influence should be possessed by those who are\nbest able to wield it; and that a wise man, at the end of his career,\nshould be better off than a fool. But for that reason, is the fool to be\nwretched, utterly crushed down, and left in all the suffering which his\nconduct and capacity naturally inflict?--Not so. What do you suppose\nfools were made for? That you might tread upon them, and starve them,\nand get the better of them in every possible way? By no means. They were\nmade that wise people might take care of them. That is the true and\nplain fact concerning the relations of every strong and wise man to the\nworld about him. He has his strength given him, not that he may crush\nthe weak, but that he may support and guide them. In his own household\nhe is to be the guide and the support of his children; out of his\nhousehold he is still to be the father--that is, the guide and\nsupport--of the weak and the poor; not merely of the meritoriously weak\nand the innocently poor, but of the guiltily and punishably poor; of the\nmen who ought to have known better--of the poor who ought to be ashamed\nof themselves. It is nothing to give pension and cottage to the widow\nwho has lost her son; it is nothing to give food and medicine to the\nworkman who has broken his arm, or the decrepit woman wasting in\nsickness. But it is something to use your time and strength to war with\nthe waywardness and thoughtlessness of mankind; to keep the erring\nworkman in your service till you have made him an unerring one; and to\ndirect your fellow-merchant to the opportunity which his dulness would\nhave lost. This is much; but it is yet more, when you have fully\nachieved the superiority which is due to you, and acquired the wealth\nwhich is the fitting reward of your sagacity, if you solemnly accept the\nresponsibility of it, as it is the helm and guide of labour far and\nnear.\n\n\n119. For you who have it in your hands are in reality the pilots of the\npower and effort of the State. It is entrusted to you as an authority to\nbe used for good or evil, just as completely as kingly authority was\never given to a prince, or military command to a captain. And, according\nto the quantity of it that you have in your hands, you are the arbiters\nof the will and work of England; and the whole issue, whether the work\nof the State shall suffice for the State or not, depends upon you. You\nmay stretch out your sceptre over the heads of the English labourers,\nand say to them, as they stoop to its waving, \"Subdue this obstacle that\nhas baffled our fathers, put away this plague that consumes our\nchildren; water these dry places, plough these desert ones, carry this\nfood to those who are in hunger; carry this light to those who are in\ndarkness; carry this life to those who are in death;\" or on the other\nside you may say to her labourers: \"Here am I; this power is in my hand;\ncome, build a mound here for me to be throned upon, high and wide; come,\nmake crowns for my head, that men may see them shine from far away;\ncome, weave tapestries for my feet, that I may tread softly on the silk\nand purple; come, dance before me, that I may be gay; and sing sweetly\nto me, that I may slumber; so shall I live in joy, and die in honour.\"\nAnd better than such an honourable death it were that the day had\nperished wherein we were born, and the night in which it was said there\nis a child conceived.\n\n\n120. I trust that in a little while there will be few of our rich men\nwho, through carelessness or covetousness, thus forfeit the glorious\noffice which is intended for their hands. I said, just now, that wealth\nill-used was as the net of the spider, entangling and destroying: but\nwealth well used is as the net of the sacred fisher who gathers souls of\nmen out of the deep. A time will come--I do not think even now it is\nfar from us--when this golden net of the world's wealth will be spread\nabroad as the flaming meshes of morning cloud are over the sky; bearing\nwith them the joy of light and the dew of the morning, as well as the\nsummons to honourable and peaceful toil. What less can we hope from your\nwealth than this, rich men of England, when once you feel fully how, by\nthe strength of your possessions--not, observe, by the exhaustion, but\nby the administration of them and the power,--you can direct the\nacts--command the energies--inform the ignorance--prolong the existence,\nof the whole human race; and how, even of worldly wisdom, which man\nemploys faithfully, it is true, not only that her ways are pleasantness,\nbut that her paths are peace; and that, for all the children of men, as\nwell as for those to whom she is given, Length of days is in her right\nhand, as in her left hand Riches and Honour?\n\n\n\n\nADDENDA\n\nNote, p. 18.--\"_Fatherly authority._\"\n\n\n121. This statement could not, of course, be heard without displeasure\nby a certain class of politicians; and in one of the notices of these\nlectures given in the Manchester journals at the time, endeavour was\nmade to get quit of it by referring to the Divine authority, as the only\nPaternal power with respect to which men were truly styled \"brethren.\"\nOf course it is so, and, equally of course, all human government is\nnothing else than the executive expression of this Divine authority. The\nmoment government ceases to be the practical enforcement of Divine law,\nit is tyranny; and the meaning which I attach to the words \"paternal\ngovernment,\" is, in more extended terms, simply this--\"The executive\nfulfilment, by formal human methods, of the will of the Father of\nmankind respecting His children.\" I could not give such a definition of\nGovernment as this in a popular lecture; and even in written form, it\nwill necessarily suggest many objections, of which I must notice and\nanswer the most probable.\n\nOnly, in order to avoid the recurrence of such tiresome phrases as \"it\nmay be answered in the second place,\" and \"it will be objected in the\nthird place,\" etc., I will ask the reader's leave to arrange the\ndiscussion in the form of simple dialogue, letting _O._ stand for\nobjector, and _R._ for response.\n\n\n122. _O._--You define your paternal government to be the executive\nfulfilment, by formal human methods, of the Divine will. But, assuredly,\nthat will cannot stand in need of aid or expression from human laws. It\ncannot fail of its fulfilment.\n\n\n_R._ 122. In the final sense it cannot; and in that sense, men who are\ncommitting murder and stealing are fulfilling the will of God as much as\nthe best and kindest people in the world. But in the limited and present\nsense, the only sense with which _we_ have anything to do, God's will\nconcerning man is fulfilled by some men, and thwarted by others. And\nthose men who either persuade or enforce the doing of it, stand towards\nthose who are rebellious against it exactly in the position of faithful\nchildren in a family, who, when the father is out of sight, either\ncompel or persuade the rest to do as their father would have them, were\nhe present; and in so far as they are expressing and maintaining, for\nthe time, the paternal authority, they exercise, in the exact sense in\nwhich I mean the phrase to be understood, paternal government over the\nrest.\n\n_O._--But, if Providence has left a liberty to man in many things in\norder to prove him, why should human law abridge that liberty, and take\nupon itself to compel what the great Lawgiver does not compel?\n\n\n123. _R._--It is confessed, in the enactment of any law whatsoever, that\nhuman lawgivers have a right to do this. For, if you have no right to\nabridge any of the liberty which Providence has left to man, you have no\nright to punish any one for committing murder or robbery. You ought to\nleave them to the punishment of God and Nature. But if you think\nyourself under obligation to punish, as far as human laws can, the\nviolation of the will of God by these great sins, you are certainly\nunder the same obligation to punish, with proportionately less\npunishment, the violation of His will in less sins.\n\n_O._--No; you must not attempt to punish less sins by law, because you\ncannot properly define nor ascertain them. Everybody can determine\nwhether murder has been committed or not, but you cannot determine how\nfar people have been unjust or cruel in minor matters, and therefore\ncannot make or execute laws concerning minor matters.\n\n_R._--If I propose to you to punish faults which cannot be defined, or\nto execute laws which cannot be made equitable, reject the laws I\npropose. But do not generally object to the principle of law.\n\n_O._--Yes; I generally object to the principle of law as applied to\nminor things; because, if you could succeed (which you cannot) in\nregulating the entire conduct of men by law in little things as well as\ngreat, you would take away from human life all its probationary\ncharacter, and render many virtues and pleasures impossible. You would\nreduce virtue to the movement of a machine, instead of the act of a\nspirit.\n\n\n124. _R._--You have just said, parenthetically, and I fully and\nwillingly admit it, that it is impossible to regulate all minor matters\nby law. Is it not probable, therefore, that the degree in which it is\n_possible_ to regulate them by it, is also the degree in which it is\n_right_ to regulate them by it? Or what other means of judgment will you\nemploy, to separate the things which ought to be formally regulated from\nthe things which ought not? You admit that great sins should be legally\nrepressed; but you say that small sins should not be legally repressed.\nHow do you distinguish between great and small sins? and how do you\nintend to determine, or do you in practice of daily life determine, on\nwhat occasions you should compel people to do right, and on what\noccasions you should leave them the option of doing wrong?\n\n_O._--I think you cannot make any accurate or logical distinction in\nsuch matters; but that common sense and instinct have, in all civilised\nnations, indicated certain crimes of great social harmfulness, such as\nmurder, theft, adultery, slander, and such like, which it is proper to\nrepress legally; and that common sense and instinct indicate also the\nkind of crimes which it is proper for laws to let alone, such as\nmiserliness, ill-natured speaking, and many of those commercial\ndishonesties which I have a notion you want your paternal government to\ninterfere with.\n\n_R._--Pray do not alarm yourself about what my paternal government is\nlikely to interfere with, but keep to the matter in hand. You say that\n\"common sense and instinct\" have, in all civilised nations,\ndistinguished between the sins that ought to be legally dealt with and\nthat ought not. Do you mean that the laws of all civilised nations are\nperfect?\n\n_O._--No; certainly not.\n\n_R._--Or that they are perfect at least in their discrimination of what\ncrimes they should deal with, and what crimes they should let alone?\n\n_O._--No; not exactly.\n\n_R._--What _do_ you mean, then?\n\n\n125. _O._--I mean that the general tendency is right in the laws of\ncivilised nations; and that, in due course of time, natural sense and\ninstinct point out the matters they should be brought to bear upon. And\neach question of legislation must be made a separate subject of inquiry\nas it presents itself: you cannot fix any general principles about what\nshould be dealt with legally, and what should not.\n\n_R._--Supposing it to be so, do you think there are any points in which\nour English legislation is capable of amendment, as it bears on\ncommercial and economical matters, in this present time?\n\n_O._--Of course I do.\n\n_R._--Well, then, let us discuss these together quietly; and if the\npoints that I want amended seem to you incapable of amendment, or not in\nneed of amendment, say so: but don't object, at starting, to the mere\nproposition of applying law to things which have not had law applied to\nthem before. You have admitted the fitness of my expression, \"paternal\ngovernment\": it only has been, and remains, a question between us, how\nfar such government should extend. Perhaps you would like it only to\nregulate, among the children, the length of their lessons; and perhaps I\nshould like it also to regulate the hardness of their cricket-balls: but\ncannot you wait quietly till you know what I want it to do, before\nquarrelling with the thing itself?\n\n_O._--No; I cannot wait quietly; in fact, I don't see any use in\nbeginning such a discussion at all, because I am quite sure from the\nfirst, that you want to meddle with things that you have no business\nwith, and to interfere with healthy liberty of action in all sorts of\nways; and I know that you can't propose any laws that would be of real\nuse.[15]\n\n[Note 15: If the reader is displeased with me for putting this\nfoolish speech into his mouth, I entreat his pardon; but he may be\nassured that it is a speech which would be made by many people, and the\nsubstance of which would be tacitly felt by many more, at this point of\nthe discussion. I have really tried, up to this point, to make the\nobjector as intelligent a person as it is possible for an author to\nimagine anybody to be who differs with him.]\n\n\n126. _R._--If you indeed know that, you would be wrong to hear me any\nfarther. But if you are only in painful doubt about me, which makes you\nunwilling to run the risk of wasting your time, I will tell you\nbeforehand what I really do think about this same liberty of action,\nnamely, that whenever we can make a perfectly equitable law about any\nmatter, or even a law securing, on the whole, more just conduct than\nunjust, we ought to make that law; and that there will yet, on these\nconditions, always remain a number of matters respecting which legalism\nand formalism are impossible; enough, and more than enough, to exercise\nall human powers of individual judgment, and afford all kinds of scope\nto individual character. I think this; but of course it can only be\nproved by separate examination of the possibilities of formal restraint\nin each given field of action; and these two lectures are nothing more\nthan a sketch of such a detailed examination in one field, namely, that\nof art. You will find, however, one or two other remarks on such\npossibilities in the next note.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNote 2nd, p. 21.--\"_Right to public support._\"\n\n\n127. It did not appear to me desirable, in the course of the spoken\nlecture, to enter into details or offer suggestions on the questions of\nthe regulation of labour and distribution of relief, as it would have\nbeen impossible to do so without touching on many disputed or disputable\npoints, not easily handled before a general audience. But I must now\nsupply what is wanting to make my general statement clear.\n\nI believe, in the first place, that no Christian nation has any business\nto see one of its members in distress without helping him, though,\nperhaps, at the same time punishing him: help, of course--in nine cases\nout of ten--meaning guidance, much more than gift, and, therefore,\ninterference with liberty. When a peasant mother sees one of her\ncareless children fall into a ditch, her first proceeding is to pull him\nout; her second, to box his ears; her third, ordinarily, to lead him\ncarefully a little way by the hand, or send him home for the rest of the\nday. The child usually cries, and very often would clearly prefer\nremaining in the ditch; and if he understood any of the terms of\npolitics, would certainly express resentment at the interference with\nhis individual liberty: but the mother has done her duty. Whereas the\nusual call of the mother nation to any of her children, under such\ncircumstances, has lately been nothing more than the foxhunter's,--\"Stay\nstill there; I shall clear you.\" And if we always _could_ clear them,\ntheir requests to be left in muddy independence might be sometimes\nallowed by kind people, or their cries for help disdained by unkind\nones. But we can't clear them. The whole nation is, in fact, bound\ntogether, as men are by ropes on a glacier--if one falls, the rest must\neither lift him or drag him along with them[16] as dead weight, not\nwithout much increase of danger to themselves. And the law of right\nbeing manifestly in this--as, whether manifestly or not, it is always,\nthe law of prudence--the only question is, how this wholesome help and\ninterference are to be administered.\n\n[Note 16: It is very curious to watch the efforts of two\nshop-keepers to ruin each other, neither having the least idea that his\nruined neighbour must eventually be supported at his own expense, with\nan increase of poor rates; and that the contest between them is not in\nreality which shall get everything for himself, but which shall first\ntake upon himself and his customers the gratuitous maintenance of the\nother's family.]\n\n\n128. The first interference should be in education. In order that men\nmay be able to support themselves when they are grown, their strength\nmust be properly developed while they are young; and the State should\nalways see to this--not allowing their health to be broken by too early\nlabour, nor their powers to be wasted for want of knowledge. Some\nquestions connected with this matter are noticed farther on under the\nhead \"trial schools\": one point I must notice here, that I believe all\nyouths, of whatever rank, ought to learn some manual trade thoroughly;\nfor it is quite wonderful how much a man's views of life are cleared by\nthe attainment of the capacity of doing any one thing well with his\nhands and arms. For a long time, what right life there was in the upper\nclasses of Europe depended in no small degree on the necessity which\neach man was under of being able to fence; at this day, the most useful\nthings which boys learn at public schools are, I believe, riding,\nrowing, and cricketing. But it would be far better that members of\nParliament should be able to plough straight, and make a horseshoe, than\nonly to feather oars neatly or point their toes prettily in stirrups.\nThen, in literary and scientific teaching, the great point of economy is\nto give the discipline of it through knowledge which will immediately\nbear on practical life. Our literary work has long been economically\nuseless to us because too much concerned with dead languages; and our\nscientific work will yet, for some time, be a good deal lost, because\nscientific men are too fond or too vain of their systems, and waste the\nstudent's time in endeavouring to give him large views, and make him\nperceive interesting connections of facts; when there is not one\nstudent, no, nor one man, in a thousand, who can feel the beauty of a\nsystem, or even take it clearly into his head; but nearly all men can\nunderstand, and most will be interested in, the facts which bear on\ndaily life. Botanists have discovered some wonderful connection between\nnettles and figs, which a cowboy who will never see a ripe fig in his\nlife need not be at all troubled about; but it will be interesting to\nhim to know what effect nettles have on hay, and what taste they will\ngive to porridge; and it will give him nearly a new life if he can be\ngot but once, in a spring time, to look well at the beautiful circlet of\nwhite nettle blossom, and work out with his schoolmaster the curves of\nits petals, and the way it is set on its central mast. So, the principle\nof chemical equivalents, beautiful as it is, matters far less to a\npeasant boy, and even to most sons of gentlemen, than their knowing how\nto find whether the water is wholesome in the back-kitchen cistern, or\nwhether the seven-acre field wants sand or chalk.\n\n\n129. Having, then, directed the studies of our youth so as to make them\npractically serviceable men at the time of their entrance into life,\nthat entrance should always be ready for them in cases where their\nprivate circumstances present no opening. There ought to be government\nestablishments for every trade, in which all youths who desired it\nshould be received as apprentices on their leaving school; and men\nthrown out of work received at all times. At these government\nmanufactories the discipline should be strict, and the wages steady, not\nvarying at all in proportion to the demand for the article, but only in\nproportion to the price of food; the commodities produced being laid up\nin store to meet sudden demands, and sudden fluctuations in prices\nprevented:--that gradual and necessary fluctuation only being allowed\nwhich is properly consequent on larger or more limited supply of raw\nmaterial and other natural causes. When there was a visible tendency to\nproduce a glut of any commodity, that tendency should be checked by\ndirecting the youth at the government schools into other trades; and the\nyearly surplus of commodities should be the principal means of\ngovernment provisions for the poor. That provision should be large, and\nnot disgraceful to them. At present there are very strange notions in\nthe public mind respecting the receiving of alms: most people are\nwilling to take them in the form of a pension from government, but\nunwilling to take them in the form of a pension from their parishes.\nThere may be some reason for this singular prejudice, in the fact of the\ngovernment pension being usually given as a definite acknowledgment of\nsome service done to the country;--but the parish pension is, or ought\nto be, given precisely on the same terms. A labourer serves his country\nwith his spade, just as a man in the middle ranks of life serves it with\nhis sword, pen, or lancet: if the service is less, and therefore the\nwages during health less, then the reward, when health is broken, may be\nless, but not, therefore, less honourable; and it ought to be quite as\nnatural and straight-forward a matter for a labourer to take his\npension from his parish, because he has deserved well of his parish, as\nfor a man in higher rank to take his pension from his country, because\nhe has deserved well of his country.\n\n\n130. If there be any disgrace in coming to the parish, because it may\nimply improvidence in early life, much more is there disgrace in coming\nto the government: since improvidence is far less justifiable in a\nhighly educated than in an imperfectly educated man; and far less\njustifiable in a high rank, where extravagance must have been luxury,\nthan in a low rank, where it may only have been comfort. So that the\nreal fact of the matter is, that people will take alms delightedly,\nconsisting of a carriage and footmen, because those do not look like\nalms to the people in the street; but they will not take alms consisting\nonly of bread and water and coals, because everybody would understand\nwhat those meant. Mind, I do not want any one to refuse the carriage who\nought to have it; but neither do I want them to refuse the coals. I\nshould indeed be sorry if any change in our views on these subjects\ninvolved the least lessening of self-dependence in the English mind: but\nthe common shrinking of men from the acceptance of public charity is\nnot self-dependence, but mere base and selfish pride. It is not that\nthey are unwilling to live at their neighbours' expense, but that they\nare unwilling to confess they do: it is not dependence they wish to\navoid, but gratitude. They will take places in which they know there is\nnothing to be done--they will borrow money they know they cannot\nrepay--they will carry on a losing business with other people's\ncapital--they will cheat the public in their shops, or sponge on their\nfriends at their houses; but to say plainly they are poor men, who need\nthe nation's help and go into an almshouse,--this they loftily\nrepudiate, and virtuously prefer being thieves to being paupers.\n\n\n131. I trust that these deceptive efforts of dishonest men to appear\nindependent, and the agonizing efforts of unfortunate men to remain\nindependent, may both be in some degree checked by a better\nadministration and understanding of laws respecting the poor. But the\nordinances for relief and the ordinances for labour must go together;\notherwise distress caused by misfortune will always be confounded, as\nit is now, with distress caused by idleness, unthrift, and fraud. It is\nonly when the State watches and guides the middle life of men, that it\ncan, without disgrace to them, protect their old age, acknowledging in\nthat protection that they have done their duty, or at least some portion\nof their duty, in better days.\n\nI know well how strange, fanciful, or impracticable these suggestions\nwill appear to most of the business men of this day; men who conceive\nthe proper state of the world to be simply that of a vast and\ndisorganized mob, scrambling each for what he can get, trampling down\nits children and old men in the mire, and doing what work it finds\n_must_ be done with any irregular squad of labourers it can bribe or\ninveigle together, and afterwards scatter to starvation. A great deal\nmay, indeed, be done in this way by a nation strong-elbowed and\nstrong-hearted as we are--not easily frightened by pushing, nor\ndiscouraged by falls. But it is still not the right way of doing things,\nfor people who call themselves Christians. Every so named soul of man\nclaims from every other such soul, protection and education in\nchildhood,--help or punishment in middle life,--reward or relief, if\nneeded, in old age; all of these should be completely and unstintingly\ngiven; and they can only be given by the organization of such a system\nas I have described.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nNote 3rd, p. 27.--\"_Trial Schools._\"\n\n\n132. It may be seriously questioned by the reader how much of painting\ntalent we really lose on our present system,[17] and how much we should\ngain by the proposed trial schools. For it might be thought that, as\nmatters stand at present, we have more painters than we ought to have,\nhaving so many bad ones, and that all youths who had true painters'\ngenius forced their way out of obscurity.\n\n[Note 17: It will be observed that, in the lecture, it is _assumed_\nthat works of art are national treasures; and that it is desirable to\nwithdraw all the hands capable of painting or carving from other\nemployments, in order that they may produce this kind of wealth. I do\nnot, in assuming this, mean that works of art add to the monetary\nresources of a nation, or form part of its wealth, in the vulgar sense.\nThe result of the sale of a picture in the country itself is merely that\na certain sum of money is transferred from the hands of B, the\npurchaser, to those of A, the producer; the sum ultimately to be\ndistributed remaining the same, only A ultimately spending it instead of\nB, while the labour of A has been in the meantime withdrawn from\nproductive channels; he has painted a picture which nobody can live\nupon, or live in, when he might have grown corn or built houses: when\nthe sale therefore is effected in the country itself, it does not add\nto, but diminishes, the monetary resources of the country, except only\nso far as it may appear probable, on other grounds, that A is likely to\nspend the sum he receives for his picture more rationally and usefully\nthan B would have spent it. If, indeed, the picture, or other work of\nart, be sold in foreign countries, either the money or the useful\nproducts of the foreign country being imported in exchange for it, such\nsale adds to the monetary resources of the selling, and diminishes those\nof the purchasing nation. But sound political economy, strange as it may\nat first appear to say so, has nothing whatever to do with separations\nbetween national interests. Political economy means the management of\nthe affairs of _citizens_; and it either regards exclusively the\nadministration of the affairs of one nation, or the administration of\nthe affairs of the world considered as one nation. So when a transaction\nbetween individuals which enriches A impoverishes B in precisely the\nsame degree, the sound economist considers it an unproductive\ntransaction between the individuals; and if a trade between two nations\nwhich enriches one, impoverishes the other in the same degree, the sound\neconomist considers it an unproductive trade between the nations. It is\nnot a general question of political economy, but only a particular\nquestion of local expediency, whether an article, in itself valueless,\nmay bear a value of exchange in transactions with some other nation. The\neconomist considers only the actual value of the thing done or produced;\nand if he sees a quantity of labour spent, for instance, by the Swiss,\nin producing woodwork for sale to the English, he at once sets the\ncommercial impoverishment of the English purchaser against the\ncommercial enrichment of the Swiss seller; and considers the whole\ntransaction productive only as far as the woodwork itself is a real\naddition to the wealth of the world. For the arrangement of the laws of\na nation so as to procure the greatest advantages to itself, and leave\nthe smallest advantages to other nations, is not a part of the science\nof political economy, but merely a broad application of the science of\nfraud. Considered thus in the abstract, pictures are not an _addition_\nto the monetary wealth of the world, except in the amount of pleasure or\ninstruction to be got out of them day by day: but there is a certain\nprotective effect on wealth exercised by works of high art which must\nalways be included in the estimate of their value. Generally speaking,\npersons who decorate their houses with pictures will not spend so much\nmoney in papers, carpets, curtains, or other expensive and perishable\nluxuries as they would otherwise. Works of good art, like books,\nexercise a conservative effect on the rooms they are kept in; and the\nwall of the library or picture gallery remains undisturbed, when those\nof other rooms are repapered or re-panelled. Of course this effect is\nstill more definite when the picture is on the walls themselves, either\non canvas stretched into fixed shapes on their panels, or in fresco;\ninvolving, of course, the preservation of the building from all\nunnecessary and capricious alteration. And, generally speaking, the\noccupation of a large number of hands in painting or sculpture in any\nnation may be considered as tending to check the disposition to indulge\nin perishable luxury. I do not, however, in my assumption that works of\nart are treasures, take much into consideration this collateral monetary\nresult. I consider them treasures, merely as permanent means of pleasure\nand instruction; and having at other times tried to show the several\nways in which they can please and teach, assume here that they are thus\nuseful, and that it is desirable to make as many painters as we can.]\n\nThis is not so. It is difficult to analyse the characters of mind which\ncause youths to mistake their vocation, and to endeavour to become\nartists, when they have no true artist's gift. But the fact is, that\nmultitudes of young men do this, and that by far the greater number of\nliving artists are men who have mistaken their vocation. The peculiar\ncircumstances of modern life, which exhibit art in almost every form to\nthe sight of the youths in our great cities, have a natural tendency to\nfill their imaginations with borrowed ideas, and their minds with\nimperfect science; the mere dislike of mechanical employments, either\nfelt to be irksome, or believed to be degrading, urges numbers of young\nmen to become painters, in the same temper in which they would enlist or\ngo to sea; others, the sons of engravers or artists, taught the business\nof the art by their parents, and having no gift for it themselves,\nfollow it as the means of livelihood, in an ignoble patience; or, if\nambitious, seek to attract regard, or distance rivalry, by fantastic,\nmeretricious, or unprecedented applications of their mechanical skill;\nwhile finally, many men, earnest in feeling, and conscientious in\nprinciple, mistake their desire to be useful for a love of art, and\ntheir quickness of emotion for its capacity, and pass their lives in\npainting moral and instructive pictures, which might almost justify us\nin thinking nobody could be a painter but a rogue. On the other hand, I\nbelieve that much of the best artistical intellect is daily lost in\nother avocations. Generally, the temper which would make an admirable\nartist is humble and observant, capable of taking much interest in\nlittle things, and of entertaining itself pleasantly in the dullest\ncircumstances. Suppose, added to these characters, a steady\nconscientiousness which seeks to do its duty wherever it may be placed,\nand the power, denied to few artistical minds, of ingenious invention in\nalmost any practical department of human skill, and it can hardly be\ndoubted that the very humility and conscientiousness which would have\nperfected the painter, have in many instances prevented his becoming\none; and that in the quiet life of our steady craftsmen--sagacious\nmanufacturers, and uncomplaining clerks--there may frequently be\nconcealed more genius than ever is raised to the direction of our\npublic works, or to be the mark of our public praises.\n\n\n133. It is indeed probable, that intense disposition for art will\nconquer the most formidable obstacles, if the surrounding circumstances\nare such as at all to present the idea of such conquest to the mind; but\nwe have no ground for concluding that Giotto would ever have been more\nthan a shepherd, if Cimabue had not by chance found him drawing; or that\namong the shepherds of the Apennines there were no other Giottos,\nundiscovered by Cimabue. We are too much in the habit of considering\nhappy accidents as what are called 'special Providences'; and thinking\nthat when any great work needs to be done, the man who is to do it will\ncertainly be pointed out by Providence, be he shepherd or seaboy; and\nprepared for his work by all kinds of minor providences, in the best\npossible way. Whereas all the analogies of God's operations in other\nmatters prove the contrary of this; we find that \"of thousand seeds, He\noften brings but one to bear,\" often not one; and the one seed which He\nappoints to bear is allowed to bear crude or perfect fruit according to\nthe dealings of the husbandman with it. And there cannot be a doubt in\nthe mind of any person accustomed to take broad and logical views of the\nworld's history, that its events are ruled by Providence in precisely\nthe same manner as its harvests; that the seeds of good and evil are\nbroadcast among men, just as the seeds of thistles and fruits are; and\nthat according to the force of our industry, and wisdom of our\nhusbandry, the ground will bring forth to us figs or thistles. So that\nwhen it seems needed that a certain work should be done for the world,\nand no man is there to do it, we have no right to say that God did not\nwish it to be done; and therefore sent no men able to do it. The\nprobability (if I wrote my own convictions, I should say certainty) is,\nthat He sent many men, hundreds of men, able to do it; and that we have\nrejected them, or crushed them; by our previous folly of conduct or of\ninstitution, we have rendered it impossible to distinguish, or\nimpossible to reach them; and when the need for them comes, and we\nsuffer for the want of them, it is not that God refuses to send us\ndeliverers, and specially appoints all our consequent sufferings; but\nthat He has sent, and we have refused, the deliverers; and the pain is\nthen wrought out by His eternal law, as surely as famine is wrought out\nby eternal law for a nation which will neither plough nor sow. No less\nare we in error in supposing, as we so frequently do, that if a man be\nfound, he is sure to be in all respects fitted for the work to be done,\nas the key is to the lock: and that every accident which happened in the\nforging him, only adapted him more truly to the wards. It is pitiful to\nhear historians beguiling themselves and their readers, by tracing in\nthe early history of great men the minor circumstances which fitted them\nfor the work they did, without ever taking notice of the other\ncircumstances which as assuredly unfitted them for it; so concluding\nthat miraculous interposition prepared them in all points for\neverything, and that they did all that could have been desired or hoped\nfor from them; whereas the certainty of the matter is that, throughout\ntheir lives, they were thwarted and corrupted by some things as\ncertainly as they were helped and disciplined by others; and that, in\nthe kindliest and most reverent view which can justly be taken of them,\nthey were but poor mistaken creatures, struggling with a world more\nprofoundly mistaken than they;--assuredly sinned against or sinning in\nthousands of ways, and bringing out at last a maimed result--not what\nthey might or ought to have done, but all that could be done against the\nworld's resistance, and in spite of their own sorrowful falsehood to\nthemselves.\n\n\n134. And this being so, it is the practical duty of a wise nation, first\nto withdraw, as far as may be, its youth from destructive\ninfluences;--then to try its material as far as possible, and to lose\nthe use of none that is good. I do not mean by \"withdrawing from\ndestructive influences\" the keeping of youths out of trials; but the\nkeeping them out of the way of things purely and absolutely mischievous.\nI do not mean that we should shade our green corn in all heat, and\nshelter it in all frost, but only that we should dyke out the inundation\nfrom it, and drive the fowls away from it. Let your youth labour and\nsuffer; but do not let it starve, nor steal, nor blaspheme.\n\n\n135. It is not, of course, in my power here to enter into details of\nschemes of education; and it will be long before the results of\nexperiments now in progress will give data for the solution of the most\ndifficult questions connected with the subject, of which the principal\none is the mode in which the chance of advancement in life is to be\nextended to all, and yet made compatible with contentment in the pursuit\nof lower avocations by those whose abilities do not qualify them for the\nhigher. But the general principle of trial schools lies at the root of\nthe matter--of schools, that is to say, in which the knowledge offered\nand discipline enforced shall be all a part of a great assay of the\nhuman soul, and in which the one shall be increased, the other directed,\nas the tried heart and brain will best bear, and no otherwise. One\nthing, however, I must say, that in this trial I believe all emulation\nto be a false motive, and all giving of prizes a false means. All that\nyou can depend upon in a boy, as significative of true power, likely to\nissue in good fruit, is his will to work for the work's sake, not his\ndesire to surpass his school-fellows; and the aim of the teaching you\ngive him ought to be, to prove to him and strengthen in him his own\nseparate gift, not to puff him into swollen rivalry with those who are\neverlastingly greater than he: still less ought you to hang favours and\nribands about the neck of the creature who is the greatest, to make the\nrest envy him. Try to make them love him and follow him, not struggle\nwith him.\n\n\n136. There must, of course, be examination to ascertain and attest both\nprogress and relative capacity; but our aim should be to make the\nstudents rather look upon it as a means of ascertaining their own true\npositions and powers in the world, than as an arena in which to carry\naway a present victory. I have not, perhaps, in the course of the\nlecture, insisted enough on the nature of relative capacity and\nindividual character, as the roots of all real _value_ in Art. We are\ntoo much in the habit, in these days, of acting as if Art worth a price\nin the market were a commodity which people could be generally taught to\nproduce, and as if the _education_ of the artist, not his _capacity_,\ngave the sterling value to his work. No impression can possibly be more\nabsurd or false. Whatever people can teach each other to do, they will\nestimate, and ought to estimate, only as common industry; nothing will\never fetch a high price but precisely that which cannot be taught, and\nwhich nobody can do but the man from whom it is purchased. No state of\nsociety, nor stage of knowledge, ever does away with the natural\npre-eminence of one man over another; and it is that pre-eminence, and\nthat only, which will give work high value in the market, or which ought\nto do so. It is a bad sign of the judgment, and bad omen for the\nprogress, of a nation, if it supposes itself to possess many artists of\nequal merit. Noble art is nothing less than the expression of a great\nsoul; and great souls are not common things. If ever we confound their\nwork with that of others, it is not through liberality, but through\nblindness.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nNote 4th, p. 28.--\"_Public favour._\"\n\n\n137. There is great difficulty in making any short or general statement\nof the difference between great and ignoble minds in their behaviour to\nthe 'public.' It is by no means _universally_ the case that a mean mind,\nas stated in the text, will bend itself to what you ask of it: on the\ncontrary, there is one kind of mind, the meanest of all, which\nperpetually complains of the public, and contemplates and proclaims\nitself as a 'genius,' refuses all wholesome discipline or humble office,\nand ends in miserable and revengeful ruin; also, the greatest minds are\nmarked by nothing more distinctly than an inconceivable humility, and\nacceptance of work or instruction in any form, and from any quarter.\nThey will learn from everybody, and do anything that anybody asks of\nthem, so long as it involves only toil, or what other men would think\ndegradation. But the point of quarrel, nevertheless, assuredly rises\nsome day between the public and them, respecting some matter, not of\nhumiliation, but of Fact. Your great man always at last comes to see\nsomething the public don't see. This something he will assuredly persist\nin asserting, whether with tongue or pencil, to be as _he_ sees it, not\nas _they_ see it; and all the world in a heap on the other side, will\nnot get him to say otherwise. Then, if the world objects to the saying,\nhe may happen to get stoned or burnt for it, but that does not in the\nleast matter to him; if the world has no particular objection to the\nsaying, he may get leave to mutter it to himself till he dies, and be\nmerely taken for an idiot; that also does not matter to him--mutter it\nhe will, according to what he perceives to be fact, and not at all\naccording to the roaring of the walls of Red Sea on the right hand or\nleft of him. Hence the quarrel, sure at some time or other to be started\nbetween the public and him; while your mean man, though he will spit and\nscratch spiritedly at the public, while it does not attend to him, will\nbow to it for its clap in any direction, and say anything when he has\ngot its ear, which he thinks will bring him another clap; and thus, as\nstated in the text, he and it go on smoothly together.\n\nThere are, however, times when the obstinacy of the mean man looks very\nlike the obstinacy of the great one; but if you look closely into the\nmatter, you will always see that the obstinacy of the first is in the\npronunciation of \"I;\" and of the second, in the pronunciation of \"It.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nNote 5th, p. 56.--\"_Invention of new wants._\"\n\n\n138. It would have been impossible for political economists long to have\nendured the error spoken of in the text,[18] had they not been confused\nby an idea, in part well founded, that the energies and refinements, as\nwell as the riches of civilised life, arose from imaginary wants. It is\nquite true, that the savage who knows no needs but those of food,\nshelter, and sleep, and after he has snared his venison and patched the\nrents of his hut, passes the rest of his time in animal repose, is in a\nlower state than the man who labours incessantly that he may procure for\nhimself the luxuries of civilisation; and true also, that the difference\nbetween one and another nation in progressive power depends in great\npart on vain desires; but these idle motives are merely to be\nconsidered as giving exercise to the national body and mind; they are\nnot sources of wealth, except so far as they give the habits of industry\nand acquisitiveness. If a boy is clumsy and lazy, we shall do good if we\ncan persuade him to carve cherry-stones and fly kites; and this use of\nhis fingers and limbs may eventually be the cause of his becoming a\nwealthy and happy man; but we must not therefore argue that\ncherry-stones are valuable property, or that kite-flying is a profitable\nmode of passing time. In like manner, a nation always wastes its time\nand labour _directly_, when it invents a new want of a frivolous kind,\nand yet the invention of such a want may be the sign of a healthy\nactivity, and the labour undergone to satisfy the new want may lead,\n_indirectly_, to useful discoveries or to noble arts; so that a nation\nis not to be discouraged in its fancies when it is either too weak or\nfoolish to be moved to exertion by anything but fancies, or has attended\nto its serious business first. If a nation will not forge iron, but\nlikes distilling lavender, by all means give it lavender to distil; only\ndo not let its economists suppose that lavender is as profitable to it\nas oats, or that it helps poor people to live, any more than the\nschoolboy's kite provides him his dinner. Luxuries, whether national or\npersonal, must be paid for by labour withdrawn from useful things; and\nno nation has a right to indulge in them until all its poor are\ncomfortably housed and fed.\n\n[Note 18: I have given the political economist too much credit in\nsaying this. Actually, while these sheets are passing through the press,\nthe blunt, broad, unmitigated fallacy is enunciated, formally and\nprecisely, by the common councilmen of New York, in their report on the\npresent commercial crisis. Here is their collective opinion, published\nin the _Times_ of November 23rd, 1857:--\"Another erroneous idea is that\nluxurious living, extravagant dressing, splendid turn-outs and fine\nhouses, are the cause of distress to a nation. No more erroneous\nimpression could exist. Every extravagance that the man of 100,000 or\n1,000,000 dollars indulges in adds to the means, the support, the wealth\nof ten or a hundred who had little or nothing else but their labour,\ntheir intellect, or their taste. If a man of 1,000,000 dollars spends\nprincipal and interest in ten years, and finds himself beggared at the\nend of that time, he has actually made a hundred who have catered to his\nextravagance, employers or employed, so much richer by the division of\nhis wealth. He may be ruined, but the nation is better off and richer,\nfor one hundred minds and hands, with 10,000 dollars apiece, are far\nmore productive than one with the whole.\"\n\nYes, gentlemen of the common council; but what has been doing in the\ntime of the transfer? The spending of the fortune has taken a certain\nnumber of years (suppose ten), and during that time 1,000,000 dollars'\nworth of work has been done by the people, who have been paid that sum\nfor it. Where is the product of that work? By your own statements,\nwholly consumed; for the man for whom it has been done is now a beggar.\nYou have given therefore, as a nation, 1,000,000 dollars' worth of work,\nand ten years of time, and you have produced, as ultimate result, one\nbeggar. Excellent economy, gentlemen! and sure to conduce, in due\nsequence, to the production of _more_ than one beggar. Perhaps the\nmatter may be made clearer to you, however, by a more familiar instance.\nIf a schoolboy goes out in the morning with five shillings in his\npocket, and comes home penniless, having spent his all in tarts,\nprincipal and interest are gone, and fruiterer and baker are enriched.\nSo far so good. But suppose the schoolboy, instead, has bought a book\nand a knife; principal and interest are gone, and book-seller and cutler\nare enriched. But the schoolboy is enriched also, and may help his\nschool-fellows next day with knife and book, instead of lying in bed and\nincurring a debt to the doctor.]\n\n\n139. The enervating influence of luxury, and its tendencies to increase\nvice, are points which I keep entirely out of consideration in the\npresent essay; but, so far as they bear on any question discussed, they\nmerely furnish additional evidence on the side which I have taken. Thus,\nin the present case, I assume that the luxuries of civilized life are in\npossession harmless, and in acquirement serviceable as a motive for\nexertion; and even on those favourable terms, we arrive at the\nconclusion that the nation ought not to indulge in them except under\nsevere limitations. Much less ought it to indulge in them if the\ntemptation consequent on their possession, or fatality incident to their\nmanufacture, more than counter-balances the good done by the effort to\nobtain them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nNote 6th, p. 74.--\"_Economy of literature._\"\n\n\n140. I have been much impressed lately by one of the results of the\nquantity of our books; namely, the stern impossibility of getting\nanything understood, that required patience to understand. I observe\nalways, in the case of my own writings, that if ever I state anything\nwhich has cost me any trouble to ascertain, and which, therefore, will\nprobably require a minute or two of reflection from the reader before it\ncan be accepted,--that statement will not only be misunderstood, but in\nall probability taken to mean something very nearly the reverse of what\nit does mean. Now, whatever faults there may be in my modes of\nexpression, I know that the words I use will always be found, by\nJohnson's dictionary, to bear, first of all, the sense I use them in;\nand that the sentences, whether awkwardly turned or not, will, by the\nordinary rules of grammar, bear no other interpretation than that I mean\nthem to bear; so that the misunderstanding of them must result,\nultimately, from the mere fact that their matter sometimes requires a\nlittle patience. And I see the same kind of misinterpretation put on\nthe words of other writers, whenever they require the same kind of\nthought.\n\n\n141. I was at first a little despondent about this; but, on the whole, I\nbelieve it will have a good effect upon our literature for some time to\ncome; and then, perhaps, the public may recover its patience again. For\ncertainly it is excellent discipline for an author to feel that he must\nsay all he has to say in the fewest possible words, or his reader is\nsure to skip them; and in the plainest possible words, or his reader\nwill certainly misunderstand them. Generally, also, a downright fact may\nbe told in a plain way; and we want downright facts at present more than\nanything else. And though I often hear moral people complaining of the\nbad effects of want of thought, for my part, it seems to me that one of\nthe worst diseases to which the human creature is liable is its disease\nof thinking. If it would only just _look_[19] at a thing instead of\nthinking what it must be like, or _do_ a thing instead of thinking it\ncannot be done, we should all get on far better.\n\n[Note 19: There can be no question, however, of the mischievous\ntendency of the hurry of the present day, in the way people undertake\nthis very _looking_. I gave three years' close and incessant labour to\nthe examination of the chronology of the architecture of Venice; two\nlong winters being wholly spent in the drawing of details on the spot;\nand yet I see constantly that architects who pass three or four days in\na gondola going up and down the Grand Canal, think that their first\nimpressions are just as likely to be true as my patiently wrought\nconclusions. Mr. Street, for instance, glances hastily at the facade of\nthe Ducal Palace--so hastily that he does not even see what its pattern\nis, and misses the alternation of red and black in the centres of its\nsquares--and yet he instantly ventures on an opinion on the chronology\nof its capitals, which is one of the most complicated and difficult\nsubjects in the whole range of Gothic archaeology. It may, nevertheless,\nbe ascertained with very fair probability of correctness by any person\nwho will give a month's hard work to it, but it can be ascertained no\notherwise.]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nNote 7th, p. 147.--\"_Pilots of the State._\"\n\n\n142. While, however, undoubtedly, these responsibilities attach to every\nperson possessed of wealth, it is necessary both to avoid any stringency\nof statement respecting the benevolent modes of spending money, and to\nadmit and approve so much liberty of spending it for selfish pleasures\nas may distinctly make wealth a personal _reward_ for toil, and secure\nin the minds of all men the right of property. For although, without\ndoubt, the purest pleasures it can procure are not selfish, it is only\nas a means of personal gratification that it will be desired by a large\nmajority of workers; and it would be no less false ethics than false\npolicy to check their energy by any forms of public opinion which bore\nhardly against the wanton expenditure of honestly got wealth. It would\nbe hard if a man who has passed the greater part of his life at the desk\nor counter could not at last innocently gratify a caprice; and all the\nbest and most sacred ends of almsgiving would be at once disappointed,\nif the idea of a moral claim took the place of affectionate gratitude in\nthe mind of the receiver.\n\n\n143. Some distinction is made by us naturally in this respect between\nearned and inherited wealth; that which is inherited appearing to\ninvolve the most definite responsibilities, especially when consisting\nin revenues derived from the soil. The form of taxation which\nconstitutes rental of lands places annually a certain portion of the\nnational wealth in the hands of the nobles, or other proprietors of the\nsoil, under conditions peculiarly calculated to induce them to give\ntheir best care to its efficient administration. The want of\ninstruction in even the simplest principles of commerce and economy,\nwhich hitherto has disgraced our schools and universities, has indeed\nbeen the cause of ruin or total inutility of life to multitudes of our\nmen of estate; but this deficiency in our public education cannot exist\nmuch longer, and it appears to be highly advantageous for the State that\na certain number of persons distinguished by race should be permitted to\nset examples of wise expenditure, whether in the advancement of science,\nor in patronage of art and literature; only they must see to it that\nthey take their right standing more firmly than they have done hitherto,\nfor the position of a rich man in relation to those around him is, in\nour present real life, and is also contemplated generally by political\neconomists as being, precisely the reverse of what it ought to be. A\nrich man ought to be continually examining how he may spend his money\nfor the advantage of others: at present, others are continually plotting\nhow they may beguile him into spending it apparently for his own. The\naspect which he presents to the eyes of the world is generally that of\na person holding a bag of money with a staunch grasp, and resolved to\npart with none of it unless he is forced, and all the people about him\nare plotting how they may force him: that is to say, how they may\npersuade him that he wants this thing or that; or how they may produce\nthings that he will covet and buy. One man tries to persuade him that he\nwants perfumes; another that he wants jewellery; another that he wants\nsugarplums; another that he wants roses at Christmas. Anybody who can\ninvent a new want for him is supposed to be a benefactor to society: and\nthus the energies of the poorer people about him are continually\ndirected to the production of covetable, instead of serviceable, things;\nand the rich man has the general aspect of a fool, plotted against by\nthe world. Whereas the real aspect which he ought to have is that of a\nperson wiser than others, entrusted with the management of a larger\nquantity of capital, which he administers for the profit of all,\ndirecting each man to the labour which is most healthy for him, and most\nserviceable for the community.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nNote 8th, p. 148.--\"_Silk and purple._\"\n\n\n144. In various places throughout these lectures I have had to allude to\nthe distinction between productive and unproductive labour, and between\ntrue and false wealth. I shall here endeavour, as clearly as I can, to\nexplain the distinction I mean.\n\nProperty may be divided generally into two kinds; that which produces\nlife, and that which produces the objects of life. That which produces\nor maintains life consists of food, in so far as it is nourishing; of\nfurniture and clothing, in so far as they are protective or cherishing;\nof fuel; and of all land, instruments, or materials necessary to produce\nfood, houses, clothes, and fuel. It is specially and rightly called\nuseful property.\n\nThe property which produces the objects of life consists of all that\ngives pleasure or suggests and preserves thought: of food, furniture,\nand land, in so far as they are pleasing to the appetite or the eye; of\nluxurious dress, and all other kinds of luxuries; of books, pictures,\nand architecture. But the modes of connection of certain minor forms of\nproperty with human labour render it desirable to arrange them under\nmore than these two heads. Property may therefore be conveniently\nconsidered as of five kinds.\n\n\n145. (1) Property necessary to life, but not producible by labour, and\ntherefore belonging of right, in a due measure, to every human being as\nsoon as he is born, and morally inalienable. As for instance, his proper\nshare of the atmosphere, without which he cannot breathe, and of water,\nwhich he needs to quench his thirst. As much land as he needs to feed\nfrom is also inalienable; but in well-regulated communities this\nquantity of land may often be represented by other possessions, or its\nneed supplied by wages and privileges.\n\n(2) Property necessary to life, but only producible by labour, and of\nwhich the possession is morally connected with labour, so that no person\ncapable of doing the work necessary for its production has a right to it\nuntil he has done that work;--\"he that will not work, neither should he\neat.\" It consists of simple food, clothing, and habitation, with their\nseeds and materials, or instruments and machinery, and animals used for\nnecessary draught or locomotion, etc. It is to be observed of this kind\nof property, that its increase cannot usually be carried beyond a\ncertain point, because it depends not on labour only, but on things of\nwhich the supply is limited by nature. The possible accumulation of corn\ndepends on the quantity of corn-growing land possessed or commercially\naccessible; and that of steel, similarly on the accessible quantity of\ncoal and iron-stone. It follows from this natural limitation of supply\nthat the accumulation of property of this kind in large masses at one\npoint, or in one person's hands, commonly involves, more or less, the\nscarcity of it at another point and in other persons' hands; so that the\naccidents or energies which may enable one man to procure a great deal\nof it, may, and in all likelihood will, partially prevent other men\nprocuring a sufficiency of it, however willing they may be to work for\nit; therefore, the modes of its accumulation and distribution need to be\nin some degree regulated by law and by national treaties, in order to\nsecure justice to all men.\n\nAnother point requiring notice respecting this sort of property is, that\nno work can be wasted in producing it, provided only the kind of it\nproduced be preservable and distributable, since for every grain of such\ncommodities we produce we are rendering so much more life possible on\nearth.[20] But though we are sure, thus, that we are employing people\nwell, we cannot be sure we might not have employed them _better_; for it\nis possible to direct labour to the production of life, until little or\nnone is left for that of the objects of life, and thus to increase\npopulation at the expense of civilization, learning, and morality: on\nthe other hand, it is just as possible--and the error is one to which\nthe world is, on the whole, more liable--to direct labour to the objects\nof life till too little is left for life, and thus to increase luxury or\nlearning at the expense of population. Right political economy holds its\naim poised justly between the two extremes, desiring neither to crowd\nits dominions with a race of savages, nor to found courts and colleges\nin the midst of a desert.\n\n[Note 20: This point has sometimes been disputed; for instance,\nopening Mill's 'Political Economy' the other day, I chanced on a passage\nin which he says that a man who makes a coat, if the person who wears\nthe coat does nothing useful while he wears it, has done no more good to\nsociety than the man who has only raised a pineapple. But this is a\nfallacy induced by endeavour after too much subtlety. None of us have a\nright to say that the life of a man is of no use to _him_, though it may\nbe of no use to _us_; and the man who made the coat, and thereby\nprolonged another man's life, has done a gracious and useful work,\nwhatever may come of the life so prolonged. We may say to the wearer of\nthe coat, \"You who are wearing coats, and doing nothing in them, are at\npresent wasting your own life and other people's;\" but we have no right\nto say that his existence, however wasted, is wasted _away_. It may be\njust dragging itself on, in its thin golden line, with nothing dependent\nupon it, to the point where it is to strengthen into good chain cable,\nand have thousands of other lives dependent on it. Meantime, the simple\nfact respecting the coat-maker is, that he has given so much life to the\ncreature, the results of which he cannot calculate; they may be--in all\nprobability will be--infinite results in some way. But the raiser of\npines, who has only given a pleasant taste in the mouth to some one, may\nsee with tolerable clearness to the end of the taste in the mouth, and\nof all conceivable results therefrom.]\n\n\n146. (3) The third kind of property is that which conduces to bodily\npleasures and conveniences, without directly tending to sustain life;\nperhaps sometimes indirectly tending to destroy it. All dainty (as\ndistinguished from nourishing) food, and means of producing it; all\nscents not needed for health; substances valued only for their\nappearance and rarity (as gold and jewels); flowers of difficult\nculture; animals used for delight (as horses for racing), and such\nlike, form property of this class; to which the term 'luxury,' or\n'luxuries,' ought exclusively to belong.\n\nRespecting which we have to note, first, that all such property is of\ndoubtful advantage even to its possessor. Furniture tempting to\nindolence, sweet odours, and luscious food, are more or less injurious\nto health: while jewels, liveries, and other such common belongings of\nwealthy people, certainly convey no pleasure to their owners\nproportionate to their cost.\n\nFarther, such property, for the most part, perishes in the using. Jewels\nform a great exception--but rich food, fine dresses, horses and\ncarriages, are consumed by the owner's use. It ought much oftener to be\nbrought to the notice of rich men what sums of interest of money they\nare paying towards the close of their lives, for luxuries consumed in\nthe middle of them. It would be very interesting, for instance, to know\nthe exact sum which the money spent in London for ices, at its desserts\nand balls, during the last twenty years, had it been saved and put out\nat compound interest, would at this moment have furnished for useful\npurposes.\n\nAlso, in most cases, the enjoyment of such property is wholly selfish,\nand limited to its possessor. Splendid dress and equipage, however, when\nso arranged as to produce real beauty of effect, may often be rather a\ngenerous than a selfish channel of expenditure. They will, however,\nnecessarily in such cases involve some of the arts of design; and\ntherefore take their place in a higher category than that of luxuries\nmerely.\n\n\n147. (4) The fourth kind of property is that which bestows intellectual\nor emotional pleasure, consisting of land set apart for purposes of\ndelight more than for agriculture, of books, works of art, and objects\nof natural history.\n\nIt is, of course, impossible to fix an accurate limit between property\nof the last class and of this class, since things which are a mere\nluxury to one person are a means of intellectual occupation to another.\nFlowers in a London ball-room are a luxury; in a botanical garden, a\ndelight of the intellect; and in their native fields, both; while the\nmost noble works of art are continually made material of vulgar luxury\nor of criminal pride; but, when rightly used, property of this fourth\nclass is the only kind which deserves the name of _real_ property, it is\nthe only kind which a man can truly be said to 'possess.' What a man\neats, or drinks, or wears, so long as it is only what is needful for\nlife, can no more be thought of as his possession than the air he\nbreathes. The air is as needful to him as the food; but we do not talk\nof a man's wealth of air, and what food or clothing a man possesses more\nthan he himself requires must be for others to use (and, to him,\ntherefore, not a real property in itself, but only a means of obtaining\nsome real property in exchange for it). Whereas the things that give\nintellectual or emotional enjoyment may be accumulated, and do not\nperish in using; but continually supply new pleasures and new powers of\ngiving pleasures to others. And these, therefore, are the only things\nwhich can rightly be thought of as giving 'wealth' or 'well being.' Food\nconduces only to 'being,' but these to '_well_ being.' And there is not\nany broader general distinction between lower and higher orders of men\nthan rests on their possession of this real property. The human race\nmay be properly divided by zoologists into \"men who have gardens,\nlibraries, or works of art; and those who have none;\" and the former\nclass will include all noble persons, except only a few who make the\nworld their garden or museum; while the people who have not, or, which\nis the same thing, do not care for gardens or libraries, but care for\nnothing but money or luxuries, will include none but ignoble persons:\nonly it is necessary to understand that I mean by the term 'garden' as\nmuch the Carthusian's plot of ground fifteen feet square between his\nmonastery buttresses, as I do the grounds of Chatsworth or Kew; and I\nmean by the term 'art' as much the old sailor's print of the _Arethusa_\nbearing up to engage the _Belle Poule_, as I do Raphael's \"Disputa,\" and\neven rather more; for when abundant, beautiful possessions of this kind\nare almost always associated with vulgar luxury, and become then\nanything but indicative of noble character in their possessors. The\nideal of human life is a union of Spartan simplicity of manners with\nAthenian sensibility and imagination; but in actual results, we are\ncontinually mistaking ignorance for simplicity, and sensuality for\nrefinement.\n\n\n148. (5) The fifth kind of property is representative property,\nconsisting of documents or money, or rather documents only--for money\nitself is only a transferable document, current among societies of men,\ngiving claim, at sight, to some definite benefit or advantage, most\ncommonly to a certain share of real property existing in those\nsocieties. The money is only genuine when the property it gives claim to\nis real, or the advantages it gives claim to certain; otherwise, it is\nfalse money, and may be considered as much 'forged' when issued by a\ngovernment, or a bank, as when by an individual. Thus, if a dozen of\nmen, cast ashore on a desert island, pick up a number of stones, put a\nred spot on each stone, and pass a law that every stone marked with a\nred spot shall give claim to a peck of wheat;--so long as no wheat\nexists, or can exist, on the island, the stones are not money. But the\nmoment as much wheat exists as shall render it possible for the society\nalways to give a peck for every spotted stone, the spotted stones would\nbecome money, and might be exchanged by their possessors for whatever\nother commodities they chose, to the value of the peck of wheat which\nthe stones represented. If more stones were issued than the quantity of\nwheat could answer the demand of, the value of the stone coinage would\nbe depreciated, in proportion to its increase above the quantity needed\nto answer it.\n\n\n149. Again, supposing a certain number of the men so cast ashore were\nset aside by lot, or any other convention, to do the rougher labour\nnecessary for the whole society, they themselves being maintained by the\ndaily allotment of a certain quantity of food, clothing, etc. Then, if\nit were agreed that the stones spotted with red should be signs of a\nGovernment order for the labour of these men; and that any person\npresenting a spotted stone at the office of the labourers, should be\nentitled to a man's work for a week or a day, the red stones would be\nmoney; and might--probably would--immediately pass current in the island\nfor as much food, or clothing, or iron, or any other article, as a man's\nwork for the period secured by the stone was worth. But if the\nGovernment issued so many spotted stones that it was impossible for the\nbody of men they employed to comply with the orders,--as, suppose, if\nthey only employed twelve men, and issued eighteen spotted stones daily,\nordering a day's work each,--then the six extra stones would be forged\nor false money; and the effect of this forgery would be the depreciation\nof the value of the whole coinage by one-third, that being the period of\nshortcoming which would, on the average, necessarily ensue in the\nexecution of each order. Much occasional work may be done in a state or\nsociety, by help of an issue of false money (or false promises) by way\nof stimulants; and the fruit of this work, if it comes into the\npromiser's hands, may sometimes enable the false promises at last to be\nfulfilled: hence the frequent issue of false money by governments and\nbanks, and the not unfrequent escapes from the natural and proper\nconsequences of such false issues, so as to cause a confused conception\nin most people's minds of what money really is. I am not sure whether\nsome quantity of such false issue may not really be permissible in a\nnation, accurately proportioned to the minimum average produce of the\nlabour it excites; but all such procedures are more or less unsound;\nand the notion of unlimited issue of currency is simply one of the\nabsurdest and most monstrous that ever came into disjointed human wits.\n\n\n150. The use of objects of real or supposed value for currency, as gold,\njewellery, etc., is barbarous; and it always expresses either the\nmeasure of the distrust in the society of its own government, or the\nproportion of distrustful or barbarous nations with whom it has to deal.\nA metal not easily corroded or imitated, it is a desirable medium of\ncurrency for the sake of cleanliness and convenience, but, were it\npossible to prevent forgery, the more worthless the metal itself, the\nbetter. The use of worthless media, unrestrained by the use of valuable\nmedia, has always hitherto involved, and is therefore supposed to\ninvolve necessarily, unlimited, or at least improperly extended, issue;\nbut we might as well suppose that a man must necessarily issue unlimited\npromises because his words cost nothing. Intercourse with foreign\nnations must, indeed, for ages yet to come, at the world's present rate\nof progress, be carried on by valuable currencies; but such\ntransactions are nothing more than forms of barter. The gold used at\npresent as a currency is not, in point of fact, currency at all, but the\nreal property[21] which the currency gives claim to, stamped to measure\nits quantity, and mingling with the real currency occasionally by\nbarter.\n\n\n151. The evils necessarily resulting from the use of baseless currencies\nhave been terribly illustrated while these sheets have been passing\nthrough the press; I have not had time to examine the various conditions\nof dishonest or absurd trading which have led to the late 'panic' in\nAmerica and England; this only I know, that no merchant deserving the\nname ought to be more liable to 'panic' than a soldier should; for his\nname should never be on more paper than he can at any instant meet the\ncall of, happen what will. I do not say this without feeling at the same\ntime how difficult it is to mark, in existing commerce, the just limits\nbetween the spirit of enterprise and of speculation. Something of the\nsame temper which makes the English soldier do always all that is\npossible, and attempt more than is possible, joins its influence with\nthat of mere avarice in tempting the English merchant into risks which\nhe cannot justify, and efforts which he cannot sustain; and the same\npassion for adventure which our travellers gratify every summer on\nperilous snow wreaths, and cloud-encompassed precipices, surrounds with\na romantic fascination the glittering of a hollow investment, and gilds\nthe clouds that curl round gulfs of ruin. Nay, a higher and a more\nserious feeling frequently mingles in the motley temptation; and men\napply themselves to the task of growing rich, as to a labour of\nprovidential appointment, from which they cannot pause without\nculpability, nor retire without dishonour. Our large trading cities\nbear to me very nearly the aspect of monastic establishments in which\nthe roar of the mill-wheel and the crane takes the place of other\ndevotional music; and in which the worship of Mammon or Moloch is\nconducted with a tender reverence and an exact propriety; the merchant\nrising to his Mammon matins with the self-denial of an anchorite, and\nexpiating the frivolities into which he may be beguiled in the course of\nthe day by late attendance at Mammon vespers. But, with every allowance\nthat can be made for these conscientious and romantic persons, the fact\nremains the same, that by far the greater number of the transactions\nwhich lead to these times of commercial embarrassment may be ranged\nsimply under two great heads--gambling and stealing; and both of these\nin their most culpable form, namely, gambling with money which is not\nours, and stealing from those who trust us. I have sometimes thought a\nday might come, when the nation would perceive that a well-educated man\nwho steals a hundred thousand pounds, involving the entire means of\nsubsistence of a hundred families, deserves, on the whole, as severe a\npunishment as an ill-educated man who steals a purse from a pocket, or\na mug from a pantry.\n\n[Note 21: Or rather, equivalent to such real property, because\neverybody has been accustomed to look upon it as valuable; and therefore\neverybody is willing to give labour or goods for it. But real property\ndoes ultimately consist only in things that nourish body or mind; gold\nwould be useless to us if we could not get mutton or books for it.\nUltimately all commercial mistakes and embarrassments result from people\nexpecting to get goods without working for them, or wasting them after\nthey have got them. A nation which labours, and takes care of the fruits\nof labour, would be rich and happy though there were no gold in the\nuniverse. A nation which is idle, and wastes the produce of what work it\ndoes, would be poor and miserable, though all its mountains were of\ngold, and had glens filled with diamond instead of glacier.]\n\n\n152. But without hoping for this excess of clear-sightedness, we may at\nleast labour for a system of greater honesty and kindness in the minor\ncommerce of our daily life; since the great dishonesty of the great\nbuyers and sellers is nothing more than the natural growth and outcome\nfrom the little dishonesty of the little buyers and sellers. Every\nperson who tries to buy an article for less than its proper value, or\nwho tries to sell it at more than its proper value--every consumer who\nkeeps a tradesman waiting for his money, and every tradesman who bribes\na consumer to extravagance by credit, is helping forward, according to\nhis own measure of power, a system of baseless and dishonourable\ncommerce, and forcing his country down into poverty and shame. And\npeople of moderate means and average powers of mind would do far more\nreal good by merely carrying out stern principles of justice and honesty\nin common matters of trade, than by the most ingenious schemes of\nextended philanthropy, or vociferous declarations of theological\ndoctrine. There are three weighty matters of the law--justice, mercy,\nand truth; and of these the Teacher puts truth last, because that cannot\nbe known but by a course of acts of justice and love. But men put, in\nall their efforts, truth first, because they mean by it their own\nopinions; and thus, while the world has many people who would suffer\nmartyrdom in the cause of what they call truth, it has few who will\nsuffer even a little inconvenience, in that of justice and mercy.\n\nSUPPLEMENTARY ADDITIONAL PAPERS.\n\nEDUCATION IN ART.\n\nART SCHOOL NOTES.\n\nSOCIAL POLICY.\n\n\n\n\nEDUCATION IN ART.\n\n(_Read for the author before the National Association for the Promotion\nof Social Science in the autumn of 1858; and printed in the Transactions\nof the Society for that year, pp. 311-16._)\n\n\n153. I will not attempt in this paper to enter into any general\nconsideration of the possible influence of art on the masses of the\npeople. The inquiry is one of great complexity, involved with that into\nthe uses and dangers of luxury; nor have we as yet data enough to\njustify us in conjecturing how far the practice of art may be compatible\nwith rude or mechanical employments. But the question, however\ndifficult, lies in the same light as that of the uses of reading or\nwriting; for drawing, so far as it is possible to the multitude, is\nmainly to be considered as a means of obtaining and communicating\nknowledge. He who can accurately represent the form of an object, and\nmatch its colour, has unquestionably a power of notation and\ndescription greater in most instances than that of words; and this\nscience of notation ought to be simply regarded as that which is\nconcerned with the record of form, just as arithmetic is concerned with\nthe record of number. Of course abuses and dangers attend the\nacquirement of every power. We have all of us probably known persons\nwho, without being able to read or write, discharged the important\nduties of life wisely and faithfully; as we have also without doubt\nknown others able to read and write whose reading did little good to\nthemselves and whose writing little good to any one else. But we do not\ntherefore doubt the expediency of acquiring those arts, neither ought we\nto doubt the expediency of acquiring the art of drawing, if we admit\nthat it may indeed become practically useful.\n\n\n154. Nor should we long hesitate in admitting this, it we were not in\nthe habit of considering instruction in the arts chiefly as a means of\npromoting what we call \"taste\" or dilettanteism, and other habits of\nmind which in their more modern developments in Europe have certainly\nnot been advantageous to nations, or indicative of worthiness in them.\nNevertheless, true taste, or the instantaneous preference of the noble\nthing to the ignoble, is a necessary accompaniment of high worthiness in\nnations or men; only it is not to be acquired by seeking it as our chief\nobject, since the first question, alike for man and for multitude, is\nnot at all what they are to like, but what they are to do; and\nfortunately so, since true taste, so far as it depends on original\ninstinct, is not equally communicable to all men; and, so far as it\ndepends on extended comparison, is unattainable by men employed in\nnarrow fields of life. We shall not succeed in making a peasant's\nopinion good evidence on the merits of the Elgin and Lycian marbles; nor\nis it necessary to dictate to him in his garden the preference of\ngillyflower or of rose; yet I believe we may make art a means of giving\nhim helpful and happy pleasure, and of gaining for him serviceable\nknowledge.\n\n\n155. Thus, in our simplest codes of school instruction, I hope some day\nto see local natural history assume a principal place, so that our\npeasant children may be taught the nature and uses of the herbs that\ngrow in their meadows, and may take interest in observing and\ncherishing, rather than in hunting or killing, the harmless animals of\ntheir country. Supposing it determined that this local natural history\nshould be taught, drawing ought to be used to fix the attention, and\ntest, while it aided, the memory. \"Draw such and such a flower in\noutline, with its bell towards you. Draw it with its side towards you.\nPaint the spots upon it. Draw a duck's head--her foot. Now a robin's--a\nthrush's--now the spots upon the thrush's breast.\" These are the kinds\nof tasks which it seems to me should be set to the young peasant\nstudent. Surely the occupation would no more be thought contemptible\nwhich was thus subservient to knowledge and to compassion; and perhaps\nwe should find in process of time that the Italian connexion of art with\n_diletto_, or delight, was both consistent with, and even mainly\nconsequent upon, a pure Greek connexion of art with _arete_, or virtue.\n\n\n156. It may perhaps be thought that the power of representing in any\nsufficient manner natural objects such as those above instanced would be\nof too difficult attainment to be aimed at in elementary instruction.\nBut I have had practical proof that it is not so. From workmen who had\nlittle time to spare, and that only after they were jaded by the day's\nlabour, I have obtained, in the course of three or four months from\ntheir first taking a pencil in hand, perfectly useful, and in many\nrespects admirable, drawings of natural objects. It is, however,\nnecessary, in order to secure this result, that the student's aim should\nbe absolutely restricted to the representation of visible fact. All more\nvaried or elevated practice must be deferred until the powers of true\nsight and just representation are acquired in simplicity; nor, in the\ncase of children belonging to the lower classes, does it seem to me\noften advisable to aim at anything more. At all events, their drawing\nlessons should be made as recreative as possible. Undergoing due\ndiscipline of hard labour in other directions, such children should be\npainlessly initiated into employments calculated for the relief of toil.\nIt is of little consequence that they should know the principles of art,\nbut of much that their attention should be pleasurably excited. In our\nhigher public schools, on the contrary, drawing should be taught\nrightly; that is to say, with due succession and security of preliminary\nsteps,--it being here of little consequence whether the student attains\ngreat or little skill, but of much that he should perceive distinctly\nwhat degree of skill he has attained, reverence that which surpasses it,\nand know the principles of right in what he has been able to accomplish.\nIt is impossible to make every boy an artist or a connoisseur, but quite\npossible to make him understand the meaning of art in its rudiments, and\nto make him modest enough to forbear expressing, in after life,\njudgments which he has not knowledge enough to render just.\n\n\n157. There is, however, at present this great difficulty in the way of\nsuch systematic teaching--that the public do not believe the principles\nof art are determinable, and, in no wise, matters of opinion. They do\nnot believe that good drawing is good, and bad drawing bad, whatever any\nnumber of persons may think or declare to the contrary--that there is a\nright or best way of laying colours to produce a given effect, just as\nthere is a right or best way of dyeing cloth of a given colour, and\nthat Titian and Veronese are not merely accidentally admirable but\neternally right.\n\n\n158. The public, of course, cannot be convinced of this unity and\nstability of principle until clear assertion of it is made to them by\npainters whom they respect; and the painters whom they respect are\ngenerally too modest, and sometimes too proud, to make it. I believe the\nchief reason for their not having yet declared at least the fundamental\nlaws of labour as connected with art-study is a kind of feeling on their\npart that \"_cela va sans dire_.\" Every great painter knows so well the\nnecessity of hard and systematized work, in order to attain even the\nlower degrees of skill, that he naturally supposes if people use no\ndiligence in drawing, they do not care to acquire the power of it, and\nthat the toil involved in wholesome study being greater than the mass of\npeople have ever given, is also greater than they would ever be willing\nto give. Feeling, also, as any real painter feels, that his own\nexcellence is a gift, no less than the reward of toil, perhaps slightly\ndisliking to confess the labour it has cost him to perfect it, and\nwholly despairing of doing any good by the confession, he\ncontemptuously leaves the drawing-master to do the best he can in his\ntwelve lessons, and with courteous unkindness permits the young women of\nEngland to remain under the impression that they can learn to draw with\nless pains than they can learn to dance. I have had practical experience\nenough, however, to convince me that this treatment of the amateur\nstudent is unjust. Young girls will work with steadiest perseverance\nwhen once they understand the need of labour, and are convinced that\ndrawing is a kind of language which may for ordinary purposes be learned\nas easily as French or German; this language, also, having its grammar\nand its pronunciation, to be conquered or acquired only by persistence\nin irksome exercise--an error in a form being as entirely and simply an\nerror as a mistake in a tense, and an ill-drawn line as reprehensible as\na vulgar accent.\n\n\n159. And I attach great importance to the sound education of our younger\nfemales in art, thinking that in England the nursery and the\ndrawing-room are perhaps the most influential of academies. We address\nourselves in vain to the education of the artist while the demand for\nhis work is uncertain or unintelligent; nor can art be considered as\nhaving any serious influence on a nation while gilded papers form the\nprincipal splendour of the reception room, and ill-wrought though costly\ntrinkets the principal entertainment of the boudoir.\n\nIt is surely, therefore, to be regretted that the art-education of our\nGovernment schools is addressed so definitely to the guidance of the\nartizan, and is therefore so little acknowledged hitherto by the general\npublic, especially by its upper classes. I have not acquaintance enough\nwith the practical working of that system to venture any expression of\nopinion respecting its general expediency; but it is my conviction that,\nso far as references are involved in it to the designing of patterns\ncapable of being produced by machinery, such references must materially\ndiminish its utility considered as a general system of instruction.\n\n\n160. We are still, therefore, driven to the same point,--the need of an\nauthoritative recommendation of some method of study to the public; a\nmethod determined upon by the concurrence of some of our best painters,\nand avowedly sanctioned by them, so as to leave no room for hesitation\nin its acceptance.\n\nNor need it be thought that, because the ultimate methods of work\nemployed by painters vary according to the particular effects produced\nby each, there would be any difficulty in obtaining their collective\nassent to a system of elementary precept. The facts of which it is\nnecessary that the student should be assured in his early efforts, are\nso simple, so few, and so well known to all able draughtsmen that, as I\nhave just said, it would be rather doubt of the need of stating what\nseemed to them self-evident, than reluctance to speak authoritatively on\npoints capable of dispute, that would stand in the way of their giving\nform to a code of general instruction. To take merely two instances: It\nwill perhaps appear hardly credible that among amateur students, however\nfar advanced in more showy accomplishments, there will not be found one\nin a hundred who can make an accurate drawing to scale. It is much if\nthey can copy anything with approximate fidelity of its real size. Now,\nthe inaccuracy of eye which prevents a student from drawing to scale is\nin fact nothing else than an entire want of appreciation of proportion,\nand therefore of composition. He who alters the relations of dimensions\nto each other in his copy, shows that he does not enjoy those relations\nin the original--that is to say, that all appreciation of noble design\n(which is based on the most exquisite relations of magnitude) is\nimpossible to him. To give him habits of mathematical accuracy in\ntransference of the outline of complex form, is therefore among the\nfirst, and even among the most important, means of educating his taste.\nA student who can fix with precision the cardinal points of a bird's\nwing, extended in any fixed position, and can then draw the curves of\nits individual plumes without measurable error, has advanced further\ntowards a power of understanding the design of the great masters than he\ncould by reading many volumes of criticism, or passing many months in\nundisciplined examination of works of art.\n\n\n161. Again, it will be found that among amateur students there is almost\nuniversal deficiency in the power of expressing the roundness of a\nsurface. They frequently draw with considerable dexterity and vigour,\nbut never attain the slightest sense of those modulations in form which\ncan only be expressed by gradations in shade. They leave sharp edges to\ntheir blots of colour, sharp angles in their contours of lines, and\nconceal from themselves their incapacity of completion by redundance of\nobject. The assurance to such persons that no object could be rightly\nseen or drawn until the draughtsman had acquired the power of modulating\nsurfaces by gradations wrought with some pointed instrument (whether\npen, pencil, or chalk), would at once prevent much vain labour, and put\nan end to many errors of that worst kind which not only retard the\nstudent, but blind him; which prevent him from either attaining\nexcellence himself, or understanding it in others.\n\n\n162. It would be easy, did time admit it, to give instances of other\nprinciples which it is equally essential that the student should know,\nand certain that all painters of eminence would sanction; while even\nthose respecting which some doubt may exist in their application to\nconsummate practice, are yet perfectly determinable, so far as they are\nneeded to guide a beginner. It may, for instance, be a question how far\nlocal colour should be treated as an element of chiaroscuro in a\nmaster's drawing of the human form. But there can be no question that it\nmust be so treated in a boy's study of a tulip or a trout.\n\n\n163. A still more important point would be gained if authoritative\ntestimony of the same kind could be given to the merit and exclusive\nsufficiency of any series of examples of works of art, such as could at\nonce be put within the reach of masters of schools. For the modern\nstudent labours under heavy disadvantages in what at first sight might\nappear an assistance to him, namely, the number of examples of many\ndifferent styles which surround him in galleries or museums. His mind is\ndisturbed by the inconsistencies of various excellences, and by his own\npredilection for false beauties in second or third-rate works. He is\nthus prevented from observing any one example long enough to understand\nits merit, or following any one method long enough to obtain facility in\nits practice. It seems, therefore, very desirable that some such\nstandard of art should be fixed for all our schools,--a standard which,\nit must be remembered, need not necessarily be the highest possible,\nprovided only it is the rightest possible. It is not to be hoped that\nthe student should imitate works of the most exalted merit, but much to\nbe desired that he should be guided by those which have fewest faults.\n\n\n164. Perhaps, therefore, the most serviceable examples which could be\nset before youth might be found in the studies or drawings, rather than\nin the pictures, of first-rate masters; and the art of photography\nenables us to put renderings of such studies, which for most practical\npurposes are as good as the originals, on the walls of every school in\nthe kingdom. Supposing (I merely name these as examples of what I mean),\nthe standard of manner in light-and-shade drawing fixed by Leonardo's\nstudy, No. 19, in the collection of photographs lately published from\ndrawings in the Florence Gallery; the standard of pen drawing with a\nwash, fixed by Titian's sketch, No. 30 in the same collection; that of\netching, fixed by Rembrandt's spotted shell; and that of point work with\nthe pure line, by Duerer's crest with the cock; every effort of the\npupil, whatever the instrument in his hand, would infallibly tend in a\nright direction, and the perception of the merits of these four works,\nor of any others like them, once attained thoroughly, by efforts,\nhowever distant or despairing, to copy portions of them, would lead\nsecurely in due time to the appreciation of other modes of excellence.\n\n\n165. I cannot, of course, within the limits of this paper, proceed to\nany statement of the present requirements of the English operative as\nregards art education. But I do not regret this, for it seems to me very\ndesirable that our attention should for the present be concentrated on\nthe more immediate object of general instruction. Whatever the public\ndemand the artist will soon produce; and the best education which the\noperative can receive is the refusal of bad work and the acknowledgment\nof good. There is no want of genius among us, still less of industry.\nThe least that we do is laborious, and the worst is wonderful. But there\nis a want among us, deep and wide, of discretion in directing toil, and\nof delight in being led by imagination. In past time, though the masses\nof the nation were less informed than they are now, they were for that\nvery reason simpler judges and happier gazers; it must be ours to\nsubstitute the gracious sympathy of the understanding for the bright\ngratitude of innocence. An artist can always paint well for those who\nare lightly pleased or wisely displeased, but he cannot paint for those\nwho are dull in applause and false in condemnation.\n\n\n\n\nREMARKS ADDRESSED\n\nTO THE MANSFIELD ART NIGHT CLASS\n\n_Oct. 14th, 1873._[22]\n\n\n166. It is to be remembered that the giving of prizes can only be\njustified on the ground of their being the reward of superior diligence\nand more obedient attention to the directions of the teacher. They must\nnever be supposed, because practically they never can become,\nindications of superior genius; unless in so far as genius is likely to\nbe diligent and obedient, beyond the strength and temper of the dull.\n\n[Note 22: This address was written for the Art Night Class,\nMansfield, but not delivered by me. In my absence--I forget from what\ncause, but inevitable--the Duke of St. Albans honoured me by reading it\nto the meeting.]\n\nBut it so frequently happens that the stimulus of vanity, acting on\nminds of inferior calibre, produces for a time an industry surpassing\nthe tranquil and self-possessed exertion of real power, that it may be\nquestioned whether the custom of bestowing prizes at all may not\nultimately cease in our higher Schools of Art, unless in the form of\nsubstantial assistance given to deserving students who stand in need of\nit: a kind of prize, the claim to which, in its nature, would depend\nmore on accidental circumstances, and generally good conduct, than on\ngenius.\n\n\n167. But, without any reference to the opinion of others, and without\nany chance of partiality in your own, there is one test by which you can\nall determine the rate of your real progress.\n\nExamine, after every period of renewed industry, how far you have\nenlarged your faculty of _admiration_.\n\nConsider how much more you can see, to reverence, in the work of\nmasters; and how much more to love, in the work of nature.\n\nThis is the only constant and infallible test of progress. That you\nwonder more at the work of great men, and that you care more for natural\nobjects.\n\nYou have often been told by your teachers to expect this last result:\nbut I fear that the tendency of modern thought is to reject the idea of\nthat essential difference in rank between one intellect and another, of\nwhich increasing reverence is the wise acknowledgment.\n\nYou may, at least in early years, test accurately your power of doing\nanything in the least rightly, by your increasing conviction that you\nnever will be able to do it as well as it has been done by others.\n\n\n168. That is a lesson, I repeat, which differs much, I fear, from the\none you are commonly taught. The vulgar and incomparably false saying of\nMacaulay's, that the intellectual giants of one age become the\nintellectual pigmies of the next, has been the text of too many sermons\nlately preached to you.\n\nYou think you are going to do better things--each of you--than Titian\nand Phidias--write better than Virgil--think more wisely than Solomon.\n\nMy good young people, this is the foolishest, quite\npre-eminently--perhaps almost the harmfullest--notion that could\npossibly be put into your empty little eggshells of heads. There is not\none in a million of you who can ever be great in _any_ thing. To be\ngreater than the greatest that _have_ been, is permitted perhaps to one\nman in Europe in the course of two or three centuries. But because you\ncannot be Handel and Mozart--is it any reason why you should not learn\nto sing \"God save the Queen\" properly, when you have a mind to? Because\na girl cannot be prima donna in the Italian Opera, is it any reason that\nshe should not learn to play a jig for her brothers and sisters in good\ntime, or a soft little tune for her tired mother, or that she should not\nsing to please herself, among the dew, on a May morning? Believe me,\njoy, humility, and usefulness, always go together: as insolence with\nmisery, and these both with destructiveness. You may learn with proud\nteachers how to throw down the Vendome Column, and burn the Louvre, but\nnever how to lay so much as one touch of safe colour, or one layer of\nsteady stone: and if indeed there be among you a youth of true genius,\nbe assured that he will distinguish himself first, not by petulance or\nby disdain, but by discerning firmly what to admire, and whom to obey.\n\n\n169. It will, I hope, be the result of the interest lately awakened in\nart through our provinces, to enable each town of importance to obtain,\nin permanent possession, a few--and it is desirable there should be no\nmore than a few--examples of consummate and masterful art: an engraving\nor two by Duerer--a single portrait by Reynolds--a fifteenth century\nFlorentine drawing--a thirteenth century French piece of painted glass,\nand the like; and that, in every town occupied in a given manufacture,\nexamples of unquestionable excellence in that manufacture should be made\neasily accessible in its civic museum.\n\nI must ask you, however, to observe very carefully that I use the word\n_manufacture_ in its literal and proper sense. It means the making of\nthings _by the hand_. It does not mean the making them by machinery.\nAnd, while I plead with you for a true humility in rivalship with the\nworks of others, I plead with you also for a just pride in what you\nreally can honestly do yourself.\n\nYou must neither think your work the best ever done by man:--nor, on the\nother hand, think that the tongs and poker can do better--and that,\nalthough you are wiser than Solomon, all this wisdom of yours can be\noutshone by a shovelful of coke.\n\n\n170. Let me take, for instance, the manufacture of lace, for which, I\nbelieve, your neighbouring town of Nottingham enjoys renown. There is\nstill some distinction between machine-made and hand-made lace. I will\nsuppose that distinction so far done away with, that, a pattern once\ninvented, you can spin lace as fast as you now do thread. Everybody then\nmight wear, not only lace collars, but lace gowns. Do you think they\nwould be more comfortable in them than they are now in plain stuff--or\nthat, when everybody could wear them, anybody would be proud of wearing\nthem? A spider may perhaps be rationally proud of his own cobweb, even\nthough all the fields in the morning are covered with the like, for he\nmade it himself--but suppose a machine spun it for him?\n\nSuppose all the gossamer were Nottingham-made, would a sensible spider\nbe either prouder, or happier, think you?\n\nA sensible spider! You cannot perhaps imagine such a creature. Yet\nsurely a spider is clever enough for his own ends?\n\nYou think him an insensible spider, only because he cannot understand\nyours--and is apt to impede yours. Well, be assured of this, sense in\nhuman creatures is shown also, not by cleverness in promoting their own\nends and interests, but by quickness in understanding other people's\nends and interests, and by putting our own work and keeping our own\nwishes in harmony with theirs.\n\n\n171. But I return to my point, of cheapness. You don't think that it\nwould be convenient, or even creditable, for women to wash the doorsteps\nor dish the dinners in lace gowns? Nay, even for the most ladylike\noccupations--reading, or writing, or playing with her children--do you\nthink a lace gown, or even a lace collar, so great an advantage or\ndignity to a woman? If you think of it, you will find the whole value of\nlace, as a possession, depends on the fact of its having a beauty which\nhas been the reward of industry and attention.\n\nThat the thing itself is a prize--a thing which everybody cannot have.\nThat it proves, by the _look_ of it, the _ability_ of its _maker_; that\nit proves, by the _rarity_ of it, the _dignity_ of its _wearer_--either\nthat she has been so industrious as to save money, which can buy, say,\na piece of jewellery, of gold tissue, or of fine lace--or else, that she\nis a noble person, to whom her neighbours concede, as an honour, the\nprivilege of wearing finer dresses than they.\n\nIf they all choose to have lace too--if it ceases to be a prize--it\nbecomes, does it not, only a cobweb?\n\nThe real good of a piece of lace, then, you will find, is that it should\nshow, first, that the designer of it had a pretty fancy; next, that the\nmaker of it had fine fingers; lastly, that the wearer of it has\nworthiness or dignity enough to obtain what is difficult to obtain, and\ncommon sense enough not to wear it on all occasions. I limit myself, in\nwhat farther I have to say, to the question of the manufacture--nay, of\none requisite in the manufacture: that which I have just called a pretty\nfancy.\n\n\n172. What do you suppose I mean by a pretty fancy? Do you think that, by\nlearning to draw, and looking at flowers, you will ever get the ability\nto design a piece of lace beautifully? By no means. If that were so,\neverybody would soon learn to draw--everybody would design lace\nprettily--and then,--nobody would be paid for designing it. To some\nextent, that will indeed be the result of modern endeavour to teach\ndesign. But against all such endeavours, mother-wit, in the end, will\nhold her own.\n\nBut anybody who _has_ this mother-wit, may make the exercise of it more\npleasant to themselves, and more useful to other people, by learning to\ndraw.\n\nAn Indian worker in gold, or a Scandinavian worker in iron, or an old\nFrench worker in thread, could produce indeed beautiful design out of\nnothing but groups of knots and spirals: but you, when you are rightly\neducated, may render your knots and spirals infinitely more interesting\nby making them suggestive of natural forms, and rich in elements of true\nknowledge.\n\n\n173. You know, for instance, the pattern which for centuries has been\nthe basis of ornament in Indian shawls--the bulging leaf ending in a\nspiral. The Indian produces beautiful designs with nothing but that\nspiral. You cannot better his powers of design, but you may make them\nmore civil and useful by adding knowledge of nature to invention.\n\nSuppose you learn to draw rightly, and, therefore, to know correctly the\nspirals of springing ferns--not that you may give ugly names to all the\nspecies of them--but that you may understand the grace and vitality of\nevery hour of their existence. Suppose you have sense and cleverness\nenough to translate the essential character of this beauty into forms\nexpressible by simple lines--therefore expressible by thread--you might\nthen have a series of fern-patterns which would each contain points of\ndistinctive interest and beauty, and of scientific truth, and yet be\nvariable by fancy, with quite as much ease as the meaningless Indian\none. Similarly, there is no form of leaf, of flower, or of insect, which\nmight not become suggestive to you, and expressible in terms of\nmanufacture, so as to be interesting, and useful to others.\n\n\n174. Only don't think that this kind of study will ever \"pay\" in the\nvulgar sense.\n\nIt will make you wiser and happier. But do you suppose that it is the\nlaw of God, or nature, that people shall be paid in money for becoming\nwiser and happier? They are so, by that law, for honest work; and as all\nhonest work makes people wiser and happier, they are indeed, in some\nsort, paid in money for becoming wise.\n\nBut if you seek wisdom only that you may get money, believe me, you are\nexactly on the foolishest of all fools' errands. \"She is more precious\nthan rubies\"--but do you think that is only because she will help you to\nbuy rubies?\n\n\"All the things thou canst desire are not to be compared to her.\" Do you\nthink that is only because she will enable you to get all the things you\ndesire? She is offered to you as a blessing _in herself_. She is the\nreward of kindness, of modesty, of industry. She is the prize of\nPrizes--and alike in poverty or in riches--the strength of your Life\nnow, the earnest of whatever Life is to come.\n\n\n\n\nSOCIAL POLICY\n\nBASED ON NATURAL SELECTION.\n\n_Paper read before the Metaphysical Society, May 11th, 1875._[23]\n\n\n175. It has always seemed to me that Societies like this of ours, happy\nin including members not a little diverse in thought and various in\nknowledge, might be more useful to the public than perhaps they can\nfairly be said to have approved themselves hitherto, by using their\nvariety of power rather to support intellectual conclusions by\nconcentric props, than to shake them with rotatory storms of wit; and\nmodestly endeavouring to initiate the building of walls for the Bridal\ncity of Science, in which no man will care to identify the particular\nstones he lays, rather than complying farther with the existing\npicturesque, but wasteful, practice of every knight to throw up a feudal\ntower of his own opinions, tenable only by the most active pugnacity,\nand pierced rather with arrow-slits from which to annoy his neighbours,\nthan windows to admit light or air.\n\n[Note 23: I trust that the Society will not consider its privileges\nviolated by the publication of an essay, which, for such audience, I\nwrote with more than ordinary care.]\n\n\n176. The paper read at our last meeting was unquestionably, within the\nlimits its writer had prescribed to himself, so logically sound, that\n(encouraged also by the suggestion of some of our most influential\nmembers), I shall endeavour to make the matter of our to-night's debate\nconsequent upon it, and suggestive of possibly further advantageous\ndeductions.\n\nIt will be remembered that, in reference to the statement in the Bishop\nof Peterborough's Paper, of the moral indifference of certain courses of\nconduct on the postulate of the existence only of a Mechanical base of\nMorals, it was observed by Dr. Adam Clarke that, even on such mechanical\nbasis, the word \"moral\" might still be applied specially to any course\nof action which tended to the development of the human race. Whereupon I\nventured myself to inquire, in what direction such development was to be\nunderstood as taking place; and the discussion of this point being then\ndropped for want of time, I would ask the Society's permission to bring\nit again before them this evening in a somewhat more extended form; for\nin reality the question respecting the development of men is\ntwofold,--first, namely, in what direction; and secondly, in what social\nrelations, it is to be sought.\n\nI would therefore at present ask more deliberately than I could at our\nlast meeting,--first, in what direction it is desirable that the\ndevelopment of humanity should take place? Should it, for instance, as\nin Greece, be of physical beauty,--emulation, (Hesiod's second\nEris),--pugnacity, and patriotism? or, as in modern England, of physical\nugliness,--envy, (Hesiod's first Eris),--cowardice, and selfishness? or,\nas by a conceivably humane but hitherto unexampled education might be\nattempted, of physical beauty, humility, courage, and affection, which\nshould make all the world one native land, and [Greek: pasa ge taphos]?\n\n\n177. I do not doubt but that the first automatic impulse of all our\nautomatic friends here present, on hearing this sentence, will be\nstrenuously to deny the accuracy of my definition of the aims of modern\nEnglish education. Without attempting to defend it, I would only observe\nthat this automatic development of solar caloric in scientific minds\nmust be grounded on an automatic sensation of injustice done to the\nmembers of the School Board, as well as to many other automatically\nwell-meaning and ingenious persons; and that this sense of the\ninjuriousness and offensiveness of my definition cannot possibly have\nany other basis (if I may be permitted to continue my professional\nsimilitudes) than the fallen remnants and goodly stones, not one now\nleft on another, but still forming an unremovable cumulus of ruin, and\neternal Birs Nimroud, as it were, on the site of the old belfry of\nChristian morality, whose top looked once so like touching Heaven.\n\nFor no offence could be taken at my definition, unless traceable to\nadamantine conviction,--that ugliness, however indefinable, envy,\nhowever natural, and cowardice, however commercially profitable, are\nnevertheless eternally disgraceful; contrary, that is to say, to the\ngrace of our Lord Christ, if there be among us any Christ; to the grace\nof the King's Majesty, if there be among us any King; and to the grace\neven of Christless and Kingless Manhood, if there be among us any\nManhood.\n\nTo this fixed conception of a difference between Better and Worse, or,\nwhen carried to the extreme, between good and evil in conduct, we all,\nit seems to me, instinctively and, therefore, rightly, attach the term\nof Moral sense;--the sense, for instance, that it would be better if the\nmembers of this Society who are usually automatically absent were,\ninstead, automatically present; or better, that this Paper, if (which\nis, perhaps, too likely) it be thought automatically impertinent, had\nbeen made by the molecular action of my cerebral particles, pertinent.\n\n\n178. Trusting, therefore, without more ado, to the strength of rampart\nin this Old Sarum of the Moral sense, however subdued into vague banks\nunder the modern steam-plough, I will venture to suppose the first of my\ntwo questions to have been answered by the choice on the part at least\nof a majority of our Council, of the third direction of development\nabove specified as being the properly called \"moral\" one; and will go on\nto the second subject of inquiry, both more difficult and of great\npractical importance in the political crisis through which Europe is\npassing,--namely, what relations between men are to be desired, or with\nresignation allowed, in the course of their Moral Development?\n\nWhether, that is to say, we should try to make some men beautiful at the\ncost of ugliness in others, and some men virtuous at the cost of vice in\nothers,--or rather, all men beautiful and virtuous in the degree\npossible to each under a system of equitable education? And evidently\nour first business is to consider in what terms the choice is put to us\nby Nature. What can we do, if we would? What must we do, whether we will\nor not? How high can we raise the level of a diffused Learning and\nMorality? and how far shall we be compelled, if we limit, to exaggerate,\nthe advantages and injuries of our system? And are we prepared, if the\nextremity be inevitable, to push to their utmost the relations implied\nwhen we take off our hats to each other, and triple the tiara of the\nSaint in Heaven, while we leave the sinner bareheaded in Cocytus?\n\n\n179. It is well, perhaps, that I should at once confess myself to hold\nthe principle of limitation in its utmost extent; and to entertain no\ndoubt of the rightness of my ideal, but only of its feasibility. I am\nill at ease, for instance, in my uncertainty whether our greatly\nregretted Chairman will ever be Pope, or whether some people whom I\ncould mention, (not, of course, members of our Society,) will ever be in\nCocytus.\n\nBut there is no need, if we would be candid, to debate the principle in\nthese violences of operation, any more than the proper methods of\ndistributing food, on the supposition that the difference between a\nParis dinner and a platter of Scotch porridge must imply that one-half\nof mankind are to die of eating, and the rest of having nothing to eat.\nI will therefore take for example a case in which the discrimination is\nless conclusive.\n\n\n180. When I stop writing metaphysics this morning it will be to arrange\nsome drawings for a young lady to copy. They are leaves of the best\nilluminated MSS. I have, and I am going to spend my whole afternoon in\nexplaining to her what she is to aim at in copying them.\n\nNow, I would not lend these leaves to any other young lady that I know\nof; nor give up my afternoon to, perhaps, more than two or three other\nyoung ladies that I know of. But to keep to the first-instanced one, I\nlend her my books, and give her, for what they are worth, my time and\nmost careful teaching, because she at present paints butterflies better\nthan any other girl I know, and has a peculiar capacity for the\nsoftening of plumes and finessing of antennae. Grant me to be a good\nteacher, and grant her disposition to be such as I suppose, and the\nresult will be what might at first appear an indefensible iniquity,\nnamely, that this girl, who has already excellent gifts, having also\nexcellent teaching, will become perhaps the best butterfly-painter in\nEngland; while myriads of other girls, having originally inferior\npowers, and attracting no attention from the Slade Professor, will\nutterly lose their at present cultivable faculties of entomological art,\nand sink into the vulgar career of wives and mothers, to which we have\nMr. Mill's authority for holding it a grievous injustice that any girl\nshould be irrevocably condemned.\n\n\n181. There is no need that I should be careful in enumerating the\nvarious modes, analogous to this, in which the Natural selection of\nwhich we have lately heard, perhaps, somewhat more than enough, provokes\nand approves the Professorial selection which I am so bold as to defend;\nand if the automatic instincts of equity in us, which revolt against the\ngreat ordinance of Nature and practice of Man, that \"to him that hath,\nshall more be given,\" are to be listened to when the possessions in\nquestion are only of wisdom and virtue, let them at least prove their\nsincerity by correcting, first, the injustice which has established\nitself respecting more tangible and more esteemed property; and\nterminating the singular arrangement prevalent in commercial Europe that\nto every man with a hundred pounds in his pocket there shall annually be\ngiven three, to every man with a thousand, thirty, and to every man with\nnothing, none.\n\n\n182. I am content here to leave under the scrutiny of the evening my\ngeneral statement, that as human development, when moral, is with\nspecial effort in a given direction, so, when moral, it is with special\neffort in favour of a limited class; but I yet trespass for a few\nmoments on your patience in order to note that the acceptance of this\nsecond principle still leaves it debatable to what point the disfavour\nof the reprobate class, or the privileges of the elect, may advisably\nextend. For I cannot but feel for my own part as if the daily bread of\nmoral instruction might at least be so widely broken among the multitude\nas to preserve them from utter destitution and pauperism in virtue; and\nthat even the simplest and lowest of the rabble should not be so\nabsolutely sons of perdition, but that each might say for himself,--\"For\nmy part--no offence to the General, or any man of quality--I hope to be\nsaved.\" Whereas it is, on the contrary, implied by the habitual\nexpressions of the wisest aristocrats, that the completely developed\npersons whose Justice and Fortitude--poles to the Cardinal points of\nvirtue--are marked as their sufficient characteristics by the great\nRoman moralist in his phrase, \"Justus, et tenax propositi,\" will in the\ncourse of nature be opposed by a civic ardour, not merely of the\ninnocent and ignorant, but of persons developed in a contrary direction\nto that which I have ventured to call \"moral,\" and therefore not merely\nincapable of desiring or applauding what is right, but in an evil\nharmony, _prava jubentium_, clamorously demanding what is wrong.\n\n\n183. The point to which both Natural and Divine Selection would permit\nus to advance in severity towards this profane class, to which the\nenduring \"Ecce Homo,\" or manifestation of any properly human sentiment\nor person, must always be instinctively abominable, seems to be\nconclusively indicated by the order following on the parable of the\nTalents,--\"Those mine enemies, bring hither, and slay them before me.\"\nNor does it seem reasonable, on the other hand, to set the limits of\nfavouritism more narrowly. For even if, among fallible mortals, there\nmay frequently be ground for the hesitation of just men to award the\npunishment of death to their enemies, the most beautiful story, to my\npresent knowledge, of all antiquity, that of Cleobis and Bito, might\nsuggest to them the fitness on some occasions, of distributing without\nany hesitation the reward of death to their friends. For surely the\nlogical conclusion of the Bishop of Peterborough, respecting the\ntreatment due to old women who have nothing supernatural about them,\nholds with still greater force when applied to the case of old women who\nhave everything supernatural about them; and while it might remain\nquestionable to some of us whether we had any right to deprive an\ninvalid who had no soul, of what might still remain to her of even\npainful earthly existence; it would surely on the most religious grounds\nbe both our privilege and our duty at once to dismiss any troublesome\nsufferer who _had_ a soul, to the distant and inoffensive felicities of\nheaven.\n\n\n184. But I believe my hearers will approve me in again declining to\ndisturb the serene confidence of daily action by these speculations in\nextreme; the really useful conclusion which, it seems to me, cannot be\nevaded, is that, without going so far as the exile of the inconveniently\nwicked, and translation of the inconveniently sick, to their proper\nspiritual mansions, we should at least be certain that we do not waste\ncare in protracting disease which might have been spent in preserving\nhealth; that we do not appease in the splendour of our turreted\nhospitals the feelings of compassion which, rightly directed, might\nhave prevented the need of them; nor pride ourselves on the peculiar\nform of Christian benevolence which leaves the cottage roofless to model\nthe prison, and spends itself with zealous preference where, in the keen\nwords of Carlyle, if you desire the material on which maximum\nexpenditure of means and effort will produce the minimum result, \"here\nyou accurately have it.\"\n\n\n185. I cannot but, in conclusion, most respectfully but most earnestly,\nexpress my hope that measures may be soon taken by the Lords Spiritual\nof England to assure her doubting mind of the real existence of that\nsupernatural revelation of the basis of morals to which the Bishop of\nPeterborough referred in the close of his paper; or at least to explain\nto her bewildered populace the real meaning and force of the Ten\nCommandments, whether written originally by the finger of God or Man. To\nme personally, I own, as one of that bewildered populace, that the essay\nby one of our most distinguished members on the Creed of Christendom\nseems to stand in need of explicit answer from our Divines; but if not,\nand the common application of the terms \"Word of God\" to the books of\nScripture be against all question tenable, it becomes yet more\nimperative on the interpreters of that Scripture to see that they are\nnot made void by our traditions, and that the Mortal sins of\nCovetousness, Fraud, Usury, and contention be not the essence of a\nNational life orally professing submission to the laws of Christ, and\nsatisfaction in His Love.\n\nJ. RUSKIN.\n\n    \"Thou shalt not covet; but tradition\n    Approves all forms of Competition.\"\n\nARTHUR CLOUGH.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n[Transcriber's note: entries here of page numbers followed by _n._\nshould indicate that references will be found in a note on that page\nnumber. However, most of these references to notes on particular pages\nare inaccurate. The direct page number links, however, are accurate.]\n\n(_The references are made to the numbered paragraphs, not to the pages,\nand are thus applicable to every edition of the book since that of\n1880._)\n\nAccumulation of learning, its law, 73.\n\nAccuracy and depth of study, distinct, 1857 _pref._\n\nAdmiration, increase of, a test of progress in art, 167.\n\nAlmsgiving, 142.\n  \"        parish, &c., 129.\n\nAlmshouses, decoration of, 115.\n    \"       prejudice of poor against, 129-30.\n\nAlpine climbing, risks of, 151.\n\nAmbition, in youth and age, 26.\n\nAmerica, absence of great art in, 87.\n  \"     bad shipbuilding in, 112 _n._\n  \"     commercial panic in, 151.\n\nAncestors, respect for their work insisted on, 72.\n\nArchitecture, Gothic, sculpture to be in easiest materials, 34.\n  \"           \"    to be studied at Verona, 76.\n  \"        variety in, to be demanded, 32.\n  \"           \"    cheapens the price, _ib._\n\nArcola, battle of, 77.\n\nArethusa, the, and the Belle-Poule engraving, 147.\n\n[Greek: Arete] and art, 155.\n\nArt, cheap, its purchase, 40.\n  \"     \"    great art not to be too cheap, and why, 62 _seq._\n  \"   demand for good, and the possibility of having too much, 38.\n  \"   dress, beauty of, essential to good art, 54.\n  \" education in (author's paper on), 153 _seq._\n  \" function of, to exalt as well as to please, 38.\n  \" -gift and art-study, 172.\n  \" good, to be lasting in its materials and power, 39.\n  \"   \" to be done for and be worthy of all time, 46.\n  \" great, the expression of a great soul, 136.\n  \" has laws, which must be recognised, 157.\n  \" -intellect in a nation, cannot be created, 20-1.\n  \" its debt to Italy, 82.\n  \" labour and, 19.\n  \"   \" the labour to be various, easy, permanent, 31 _seq._\n  \" literature and, the cost of, 67.\n  \" love of old, essential to produce new, 88.\n  \" materials of, to be lasting, 39, 42.\n  \" models in art schools, 162-4.\n  \" modern interest in, 168.\n  \"   \"   \" objects of, and old pictures, 86.\n  \" original work, the best to buy, 41.\n  \" permanency of--e.g., a painted window, 37.\n  \" -power a gift, 158.\n  \"   \" in a nation, how to produce, 132.\n  \"   \" waste of, on perishable things, 45.\n  \" preservation of works of, 73-4.\n  \"   \" (1857) more important than production, 92.\n  \" price of good, 41. See s. Pictures.\n  \" progress in, tested by increased imagination, 167.\n  \" public to demand noble subjects of, 29.\n  \"   \" effect of public demand on, 165.\n  \" repetition in, monotonous, 32.\n  \" schools, trial, 22-3.\n  \"   \" provincial, to have good art-models, 169.\n  \" students, 153 seq.\n  \" -study will not \"pay,\" 174.\n  \" test of good, will it please a century hence? 39.\n  \" value of, depends on artist's capacity, not education, 136.\n  \" variety of work, 32.\n  \" work, hard, needed for, 158.\n  \" works of, illustrate each other, 63.\n  \" works of, property in, 147.\n  \"  \" provincial distribution of, 169.\n  \"  \" their conservative effect, 132 _n._\n  \"  \" to be lasting, 36.\n  See s. Admiration, America, Architecture, Arethusa,\n  Arete, Artist, Beauty, Buildings, Cheapness, Colour,\n  Criticism, Design, Diletto, Drawing, Dress, Education,\n  Europe, Florence, France, Genius, Glass, Gold, Goldsmiths,\n  Historical painting, Indian shawls, Italy, Jewels, Labour,\n  Lace, Lombard, Marble, Mosaic, Painter, Philosophy, Pictures,\n  Reverence, Schools, Trade, Wall-paper, War, Water colour, Wealth, Woodcuts.\n\nArtist, education of the, to be a gentleman--_i.e._, feel nobly, 28.\n  \" encouragement of, in youth, 23.\n  \" goldsmith's work, good training for, 46.\n  \" greatest, have other powers than their art, 21.\n  \" jealousy among, 98.\n  \" modern training of, 132.\n  \" _nascitur non fit_, 20.\n  \" temper of, what, 132.\n  \" to be a good man, 28.\n  \" trial schools to discover, 22-3.\n  See s. Duerer, Francia, Gainsborough, Ghiberti,\n  Ghirlandajo, Giotto, Leonardo, Lewis, Lorenzetti,\n  Michael Angelo, Rembrandt, Reynolds, Tintoret, Titian,\n  Turner, Veronese, Verrocchio.\n\n\"Asphodel meadows of our youth,\" 26.\n\nAthletic games and education, 128.\n\nAustrians, in Italy, 78.\n\nAuthor, his idea of a knight, when a child, 106.\n  \"   \" teaching young lady to copy old MS., 180.\n  life of:\n    at Brantwood, April 29, 1880.\n  \" Manchester, July 10 and 13, 1857, 1, 61.\n  \" Metaphysical Society, 1875, 175.\n  \" Oxford, art teaching, _pref._ ix.\n  \" Working Men's College, 156.\n  \" Venice, 141 _n._\n  \" teaching of:\n    misunderstood, 180.\n    political economy, has read no modern books on, 1857 _pref._\n    political influence of art, 1880 _pref._\n    true wealth honoured by, 1.\n    words fail him to express modern folly, 49.\n  \" books of, quoted, &c.:\n  \"   A Joy for Ever\" contains germs of subsequent work, 1880 _pref._\n      \"  revision for press, 1857 _pref._\n      \" title, 1880 _pref._\n    on his own writings, 140.\n    they cost him pain, and he does not expect then to give pleasure,\n      1880 _pref._\n\n\nBarataria, the island of (\"Don Quixote \"), 65.\n\nBeauty in art, on what based, vi.\n\nBible, The, to be realised as (not only called) God's Word 185.\n\n  _Quoted, or referred to._\n    Job iii. 3, \"Let the day perish wherein I was born ... a child conceived,\n      119.\n     \" xxxi. 40, \"Let thistles grow instead of wheat,\" &c., 101.\n    Ps. xxxii. 8, \"I will guide thee with mine eye,\" 18.\n     \" xxxii. 9, \"Be ye not as the horse or mule,\" 18.\n     \" c. 4, \"Enter into His gates with thanksgiving,\" 1880 _pref._\n    Prov. i. 20, \"Wisdom uttereth her voice in the streets,\" 112 _n._\n     \" iii. 15, \"Wisdom more precious than rubies,\" 174.\n     \" iii. 16, \"Length of days are in her right hand,\" &c., 130.\n     \" iii. 17, \"Her ways pleasantness and her paths peace,\" 120.\n     \" xiii. 23, \"Much food is in the tillage of the poor,\" 7 _n._\n     \" xxxi. 15, \"She riseth while it is yet night,\" 9, 58.\n     \" xxxi. 25, \"Strength and honour are in her clothing,\" &c., 60.\n    Hab. ii., its practical lessons, 112 n.\n     \" ii. 6, \"Woe to him ... that ladeth himself with thick clay,\" 112 _n._\n     \" ii. 12, \"Woe to him that buildeth a town with blood,\" 112 _n._\n     \" ii. 13, \"The people weary themselves for vanity,\" 112 _n._\n    Zach. vii. 9, 10, \"Execute true judgment ... and let none imagine evil,\"\n      &c., 112 _n._\n    Matt. vii. 16, \"Gather figs of thistles,\" 133.\n    Luke xix. 26, \"To him that hath shall be given,\" 181.\n     \" xix. 27, \"Those mine enemies bring hither and slay them before me, 183.\n    2 Thess. iii. 10, \"If any work not, neither shall he eat,\" 145.\n\nBooks, not to be too cheap, and why, 65.\n  \" numbers of, nowadays, and the result, 140.\n\nBotany, what to learn in, 128.\n\nBridle of man, the Eye of God, 18.\n\nBrotherhood--\"All men are brothers,\" what it implies, 14.\n  \" politically and divinely, 121.\n\nBrowning, E. B., on Italy, 78 _n._\n\nBuildings, public, their decoration, 104.\n\n\nCapitalist, the, his command over men, 4.\n\nCarlyle, T., on the value of horses and men, 18.\n  \" \"keen words\" of, _quoted_, 184.\n\nCasa Guidi, windows of the, referred to, 36 _n._\n\nCharity, crowning kingship (Siena fresco), 59.\n  \" in preserving health, not in protracting disease, 184.\n  \" is guidance, 127.\n  \" not a geographical virtue, 81.\n  \" true, defined, 118.\n\nCharon, 3.\n\nChartres, 86.\n\nCheapness not to be considered in producing art, 37.\n  \" of good art, undesirable and why, 62 _seq._\n\nCheating disgraceful, but being cheated is not, 89.\n\nChurch-going and life, 14.\n  \" restoration, mania for, 86-7.\n\nClarke, Dr. Adam, at the Metaphysical Society, 176.\n\nCleobis and Bito, death of, 109.\n  \" story of, beautiful, 183.\n\nClergymen, to preach practically--_e.g._, on trade, 112 _n._\n\nCleverness, best shown in sympathy with the aims of others, 170.\n\nClough, Arthur, _quoted_, 185 _n._\n\nCocoa-nut, simile from a, as to the cheapness of good art, 64.\n\nColour, good, to be lasting, 44.\n  \" local, as an element of chiaroscuro, 162.\n\nCommerce, cowardice and, 177.\n  \" frauds of, 151-2.\n  \" modern, 1857 _pref._ xi.\n\nCompetition, a bad thing in education, 135.\n\nConservatism, true, 58.\n\nCountry, serving one's, with plough, pen, and sword, 129.\n\nCricket, the game of, 128.\n\nCriticism, mistaken blame worse than mistaken praise, 24.\n  \"  public, its effect on artists, 24.\n\nCurrency, national, its nature, 149.\n\nDante--_Inferno_, the purse round the neck as a sign of condemnation, 4.\n  \"   \"  _Lasciate ogni speranza_, 93.\n\nDeane, Sir T., on the Oxford Museum, 32.\n\nDeath, as a reward, 183.\n\nDesign, dependent on proportion, 160.\n  \"  study of, 159.\n  \"  subjects of, 172-3.\n\nDevelopment, the direction of human, 175.\n\nDialogue on \"paternal government,\" 121.\n\nDiamond-cutting, waste of time, 34.\n\nDictionary of classical antiquities, woodcuts in, 107.\n\n\"Diletto\" and art, 155.\n\nDiogenes, respected, 2-3.\n\nDiscipline the basis of progress, 16.\n\nDiscovery of men of genius, 20.\n\nDisobedience destroys power of understanding, 1857 _pref._ x.\n\nDrawing as a means of description, 153.\n  \"  lessons, 156.\n  \"  to be learnt, as reading or writing, 153, 158.\n  \"  to scale, to be learnt, 160.\n\nDress, art of, 47.\n  \" beautiful, essential to great art--_e.g._, its portraiture, 54.\n  \"  \"  characteristics of, 54.\n  \"  \"  a means of education, 54.\n  \"  best, not the costliest, 54.\n  \" employment of labour--_e.g._, ball-dresses, 50.\n  \" fashion in, wasted power of design, 45.\n  \" fine, the spoils of death, 53.\n  \"  \" as a subject of expenditure, 146.\n  \"  \" under what circumstance, right and wrong, 52.\n  \" lace, its value, 171.\n\nDuerer's engravings, art-models, 169.\n  \"      \"   permanency of, 42.\n  \"      \"   crest with cock, as art-model, 164.\n  \"  woodcuts, 40.\n\n\nEconomy, its true meaning (application: accumulation: distribution), 8 _seq._\n  \"  the art of managing labour, 7, 8.\n  \"  the balance of splendour and utility, 10.\n  \"  does not mean saving money, 8.\n  \"  simile of farm life, 11.\n  \" the laws of, same for nation and individual, 12 _seq._\n  See s. Almsgiving, Author, Capitalist, Charity, Cheating,\n  Commerce, Currency, Education, Employment, England, Farm,\n  Gentlemen, Gold, Labour, Land, Luxury, Money, National works,\n  Panics, Parish relief, Pension, Political Economy, Poor, Poverty,\n  Property, Trade, Wealth.\n\nEducation, best claimed by offering obedience, 16.\n  \"  drawing to be part of, 156.\n  \"  dress as a means of, 54.\n  \"  eye, the best medium of, 106.\n  \"  formative, not reformative only, 15.\n  \"  in Art, author's paper on, 153 _seq._\n  \"  liberty to be controlled by, 128.\n  \"  manual trade to be learnt by all youths, 128.\n  \"  modern, 135.\n  \"    \"  in England, its bad tendency, 177.\n  \"  schools of, to be beautiful, 104-5.\n  \"  refinement of habits, a part of, 104.\n  \"  waste of, on dead languages, 128.\n  \"  young men, their, 134.\n\nEdward I., progress since the days of, 1857 _pref._\n\nEmotion, quickness of, is not capacity for it, 132.\n\nEmployment, may be claimed by the obedient, 16.\n\nEngland, art-treasures in, their number, 5.\n  \"  modern, its ugliness, 176.\n  \"  the rich men of, their duty, 118-9.\n\nEnglish character, impulse and prudence of, 17.\n  \"   \"   self-dependence, 130.\n\nEnvy, vile, 177.\n\nEurope, no great art, except in, 87.\n\nExaminations, their educational aim and value, 136.\n\nEye, the, nobler than the ear, and a better means of education, 106.\n\n\nFaith, frescoes of, Ambrozio Lorenzetti, Siena, 57.\n  \"  kinds of, 57.\n\nFamine, how it comes, 133.\n\nFancy, as essential to fine manufacture, 172.\n\nFarm, metaphor of a, applied to national economy, 11.\n\nFashion, change of, as wasting power of design, 45.\n\nFlorence, art and dress of, 54.\n  \"  drawing at, 1400-1500, art-models, 169.\n\nFools, the wise to take of the, 118.\n\nFrance, art in, great, and beautiful dress, 54.\n  \"  English prejudice against, 81.\n  \"  social philosophy in, \"fraternite\" a true principle, 14.\n\nFrancia, a goldsmith, 46.\n\nFrescoes, whitewashing of Italian, 85.\n\nFraternity implies paternity, 14 (cp. Time and Tide, 177).\n\nFuneral, English love of a \"decent,\" 70.\n\n\nGainsborough, his want of gentle training, 28.\n  \"   learns from Italian art, 82.\n\nGenius, men of, and art, four questions as to (production, employment,\n            accumulation, distribution), 19.\n  \"      \"  their early struggles, due to their starting on wrong work, 23.\n\nGentlemen, tradesmen to be accounted, 114.\n\nGhiberti's gates, M. Angelo on, 46.\n  \"  a goldsmith, 46.\n\nGhirlandajo, a goldsmith, 46.\n  \"   M. Angelo's master, 46.\n\nGiotto's frescoes, Assisi, perishing for want of care, 86.\n  \"  discovered by Cimabue, 133.\n\nGlass, cut, waste of labour on, 34.\n  \" painted, French 1200-1300, the best, 169.\n\nGod always sends men for the work, but we crush them, 133.\n  \" His work, its fulfilment by men, 122.\n\nGold, its uses, as a medium of exchange, 150.\n  \"  \" incorruptible and to be used for lasting things, 46.\n  \"  \" not therefore to be used for coinage, 46.\n\nGoldsmiths, artists who have been, 46.\n  \" educational training for artists, 46 _n._\n  \" work of, 45 _seq._\n\nGovernment, enforcement of divine law, 121.\n  \" in details, 122 _seq._\n  \" paternal, 14.\n  \"  \"  \"in loco parentis,\" 16 _n._\n  \"  \" defined, 121.\n  \" principles of, at the root of economy, 11\n  \"  \" Faith, Hope, Charity, 57.\n  \" to be conservative, but expectant, 58.\n  \" to form, not only reform, 15.\n  \"  to give work to all who want it, 129.\n\nGreat men and the public, 137\n  \" the work they are sent to do, 133\n\nGreatness, the humility of, 137.\n\nGreece, development of physical beauty, 176.\n\nGuilds of trade, decoration of their buildings, 116 _seq._\n\n\nHesiod's \"Eris\", 176.\n\nHistorians, mistaken way of pointing out how great men are fitted for\n  their work, 133.\n\nHistorical painting as a means of education, 106-7.\n\nHistory, the study of mediaeval, as well as ancient, insisted on, 109.\n\nHorace, \"justus, et propositi tenax,\" 182.\n  \"  \"prava jubentium,\" _ib._\n\nHorse and man, bridling of, 18.\n\nHospitals, decoration of, 114.\n\nHousewife, her seriousness and her smile, 10.\n\nHousewifery, perfect, 10.\n\nHumility of greatness, 137.\n  \" the companion of joy and usefulness, 168.\n\n\nIllustrations, modern, bad art of, 40.\n\nIndependence, dishonest efforts after, 131.\n\nIndian shawls, design of, 173.\n\nIndustry, its duty to the past and future, 72.\n\nInfidelity, modern, 177.\n\nInvention, national, of new wants, 138.\n\nInventors, to be publicly rewarded, but to have no patents, 113.\n\nIsland, desert, analogy of a, and political economy, 110.\n\nItaly, Austrians in, 78.\n  \" cradle of art, 82.\n  \" destruction of art in modern, 84.\n  \" modern art of, 85.\n  \" state of, 1857, 84.\n  \" thunderclouds in, \"the winepress of God's wrath,\" 77.\n\nItalian character, 84.\n\n\nJewels, cutting of, 52.\n  \" modern, bad and costly, 159.\n  \" property in, 146.\n\nJews, Christian dislike of, 81.\n\n\nKeats, quoted, \"a joy for ever,\" 1880 _pref._ ix-x.\n\nKing, the virtues of a (Siena fresco), 60.\n\nKingship, crowned by charity (Siena fresco), 59.\n  \" modern contempt for, 177.\n\n\nLabour, a claim to property, 145.\n  \" constant, not intermittent, needed, 11.\n  \" end of, is happiness, not money, 174.\n  \"  \"  to bring the whole country under cultivation,  12.\n  \" management of, _is_ economy, 7.\n  \" organisation of, no \"out of work\" cry, 11-12.\n  \"  \" under government, planned, 127-31.\n  \" sufficiency of a man's labour for all his needs, 7.\n      \"   \"   \" nation's   \"  its  \"  7.\n\nLabour, _continued_;--\n  \" waste of, in various kinds of useless art, cut-glass, mosaic, &c, 34.\n  \"  \" dress, 50 _seq._\n\nLace-making, 52.\n  \"  machine and hand-made, 170.\n  \" value of, in its labour, 171.\n\nLaissez-aller, a ruinous principle, 16.\n\nLand, the laws of cultivation, the same for a continent as for an acre, 12.\n  -owners, their duties, 143.\n\nLaw and liberty, 123.\n  \" most irksome, when most necessary, 15.\n  \" principles of, applied to minor things, 123.\n  \" should regulate everything it can, 126.\n  \" systems of, none perfect, 124.\n  \" to be protective, not merely punitive, 15.\n\nLegislation, paternal, dialogue on, 121.\n\nLeonardo da Vinci, an engineer, 21.\n  \"  \"  \" pupil of Verrocchio, 46.\n  \"  \"  \"work by, at Florence, 164.\n\nLeonidas' death, 109.\n\nLewis, John, his work, and its prices, 102 n.\n\nLiberalism in government, true, 58.\n\nLiberty, law and, 123.\n  \" to be interfered with, for good of nation, 123-26.\n\nLife, battles of early, for men of genius, 23.\n  \" ideal of, simplicity _plus_ imagination, 147.\n\nLiterature, cheap, modern, 65.\n\nLombard architecture at Pisa and Verona, 76.\n\nLondon season, cost of, in dress, 55.\n\nLook, people will not, at things, 141.\n\nLorenzetti, Ambrozio, his frescoes of \"government\" at Siena, 57.\n\nLove and Kingship, _see_ s. Charity.\n\nLuxury, articles of, as \"property,\" 146.\n  \"  does not add to wealth, 48.\n  \" the influences of, 138.\n\nMacaulay's false saying, \"the giants of one age, the pigmies\n    of the next,\" 168.\n\nMagnanimity, the virtue of, its full meaning, 60.\n\nMammon worship, in English commercial centres, 151.\n\nManchester Art Treasures Exhibition 1858, 5, 69.\n  \"  \" motto of, \"A joy for ever,\" 1880 _pref._\n\nMansfield Art Night Class, address to, 1873, 166 _seq._\n\nManufacture, defined, 169.\n\nMarathon, 109.\n\nMarble, a better material for sculpture than granite, 34.\n\nMarriage, desire for, in girls, 55.\n\nMedici, Pietro de, orders M. Angelo's snow-statue, 36.\n\nMenippus, 3.\n\nMetaphysical Society, author, May 4, 1875, reads paper at, 175.\n\nMichael Angelo, author's praise of, 36.\n  \"  \" Ghirlandajo's pupil, 46.\n  \"  \" on Ghiberti's gates, 46.\n  \"  \" snow-statue, 36.\n\nMill, J. S., on wealth, 145_n._\n  \"  \" on women, 180.\n\nMisery, always the result of indolence or mistaken industry, 7.\n\nMistress, of a house, ideal, described, 9, 10.\n\nModernism, contempt for poverty and honour of wealth, 1 seq.\n  _See_ s. Commerce, Education, England, Italy, Wealth.\n\nMoney, a document of title, 148.\n  \" God's gift and not our own, and why, 116 _seq._\n  \" great work never done for, 98, 102.\n  \" spending, is to employ labour, 48.\n  \" the way we spend it, important, 48-9.\n\nMorality, mechanical basis of, 176.\n  \" not to be limited to a class, 182.\n\nMoral sense, the, defined, 177.\n\nMosaic, Florentine, waste of labour, 34.\n\nMotive, the only real, and rightness, 81.\n\nMourning, English love of, 70.\n\nMuseums, provincial, art-models for, 169.\n\n\nNational works, as a means of art employment, 24.\n\nNations in \"brotherly concord and fatherly authority,\" 14.\n  \" energy of, to be directed, 16.\n  \" laws of, to be protective as well as punitive, 14.\n\nNatural forms, as subjects of design, 172.\n  \" History, the study of, to be extended, 155.\n  \" Science, and drawing, 156.\n\nNew York, council of, on luxury, 138_n._\n\nNottingham lace, 170.\n\nNovara, battle of, 77.\n\n\nObedience, to what we dislike, 1857 _pref._\n\nObstinacy of great men against the public, 137-8.\n\nOverwork, decried, 11.\n\nOxford Museum, Sir T. Deane on the, 32.\n\n\nPainter, poverty of early years, 100.\n  \" prices paid to a, 98.\n\nPanics, commercial--_e.g._, 1857, 151.\n\nPaper, necessity of good, for water-colour art, 43.\n\nParable, The Ten Talents, its practical application, 114-15.\n\nParents, noble delight of pleasing one's, possible only to the young, 27.\n\nParis, destruction of, 1870-1, 168.\n\nParish relief, no more _infra dig._ than State pensions, 129.\n\nPatents, no, but private inventions to be publicly rewarded, 113.\n\nPatriotism, what, 81.\n\nPensions, are Government alms, 129.\n\nPeterborough, Bishop of, paper read at Metaphysical Society, 176, 183, 185.\n\nPhotography, as a means of providing art-models, 164.\n  \" collections of Florentine Gallery photos, _ib._\n\nPictures, copies of, to be made, but not to be bought, 90.\n  \" dealers, and old pictures, 85.\n  \" destruction of, 69.\n  \" galleries, in all great cities, 91.\n  \"  \" their supervision and curators, 93.\n  \" pictorial method of education, 106 _seq._\n  \" price of, 101, 38.\n\nPictures, price of, _continued_:--\n  \"  \" effect of high prices on artists and on art, 97 _seq._\n  \"  \" by living artists, shows not value, but demand, 101.\n  \"  \" by dead and living masters, 103.\n  \"  \" modern prices, 38.\n  \"  \" of oil and water-colour, 102 _n._\n  \"  \" to be limited but not too cheap, 66, 95-6.\n  \" private possession of, its value, 93-4.\n  \" purchase of, private buyers to buy the works of living artists,\n    the public those of dead, 103, 94, 5.\n  \"  \" for ostentation, 101.\n  \"  \" the government to buy great works, 89.\n  \" restoration of, notes of, to be kept for reference, 94 _n._\n  \"  \" in Italy, 85.\n  \" sale of a picture, its politico-economical effect, 132 _n._\n  \" studies for, tracings, and copies of, to be kept, 90 _seq._\n\nPisa, architecture at, 76.\n  \" Campo Santo, The, 82.\n\nPlate, changes of fashion in, deplored, 45.\n  \" gold and silver to be gradually accumulated, not melted down and\n    remodelled, 46.\n\nPloughing, boys to learn, 128.\n\nPolitical economists, their thrift, 89.\n  \" Economy, modern books on, 1857 _pref._\n  \"  \" the aim of true, 145.\n  \"  \" is citizen's economy, 1857 _pref._\n  \"  \" definition and true meaning of, 132 _n._\n  \"  \" first principles of, simple but misunderstood, 1857 _pref._\n  \"  \" its questions to be dealt with one by one, 38.\n  \"  \" study of, to be accurate, if not deep, 1857 _pref._\n  \"  \" secrecy in trade bad, 110 _seq._\n  \"  \" _See_ s. Economy.\n\nPolitics, English, 82.\n  \" European, 1848, 1857, 80.\n  \" _See_ s. Conservatism, Liberalism.\n\nPoor, the, their right to State education and support, 127.\n\nPoor, the, _continued_;--\n  \" are kept at the expense of the rich, 127 _n._\n  \" to be taken care of, 118.\n\nPoverty, classical writers on, 2.\n  \" mediaeval view of, 4.\n  \" modern contempt for, just and right, 1 _seq._\n\nPosterity, thought for, 72.\n\nPraise, only the young can enjoy, for the old are above it,\n    if they deserve it, 26.\n\nPride, as a motive of expenditure, 79.\n\nPrize-giving, a bad thing in education, 135.\n  \" its true value and meaning, 166.\n\nProductive and unproductive transactions, 132 _n._\n\nProgress, modern, since Edward I., 1857 _pref._\n\nProperty, division of, into things producing (_a_) life, (_b_) the objects of\n    life, 144 _seq._\n  \" the right of, to be acknowledged, 142.\n\nProvidence, notion of a special, 133.\n\nPublic, the, favour of, 137.\n  \" great men and, 137.\n  \" impatient of what it cannot understand, 140-1.\n\nPunishment, the rationale of human, 123.\n\nPurse-pride, modern and ancient, 2.\n\n\nRailway speed, 86.\n\nRaphael's Disputation, 147.\n\nReligion, national, its beauty, _pref._\n\nRembrandt's \"spotted shell\" as a model in etching, 164.\n\nRenaissance architecture at Verona, 76.\n\nRestraint, the law of life, 16.\n\nReverence for art, a test of art power, 167.\n\nReynolds, Sir J., learns much from Italian art, 82.\n  \" portraits of, models of art, 169.\n\nRich, the duty of the strong and, 118.\n\nRiding, as part of education, 128.\n\nRowing, as part of education, 128.\n\n\nSt. Albans, Duke of, reads paper for author at Mansfield, 166 _n._\n\nSt. Louis' chapel at Carcassonne, painting, 86.\n\nSalvation, not to be limited to a class, 182.\n\nSchool Board, the, 177.\n\nSchools of art, bare schoolrooms do not fix the attention, 105.\n  \"  \" decoration of, reasons for, 104.\n  \"  \" proposals for, 132.\n\nScience, controversy in, too much nowadays, 175.\n  \" education in, 128.\n  \" the bridal city of, 175.\n\nSelection, Natural, and Social Policy, paper by author, 175.\n\nShakespeare's Cliff, 89.\n\nSiena, frescoes of Antonio Lorenzetti, 57.\n\nSmith, Adam, 1857 _pref._\n\nSoldiers of the ploughshare as well as of the sword, 15.\n\nSpeculation, commercial, 151.\n\nSpider, web of a, 170.\n\nStreet, Mr., on the Ducal Palace, 141 _n._\n\nStudents in art, not to aim at being great masters, 168.\n\nSurfaces, drawing of round, &c., 161.\n\nSympathy, the cleverness of, 170.\n\nSystems, not easily grasped, 128.\n\n\nTaste, defined, 154.\n  \" education of, 160.\n\nTennyson, _In Mem._ LV. \"Of fifty seeds, she often brings but one to bear,\"\n    133 (_cp._ Time and Tide, 67).\n\nThought, not to take the place of fact, 141.\n\nTime, man is the true destroyer, not, 74.\n\n_Times_, The, Nov. 23, 1857, referred to, 138 _n._\n\nTintoret's St. Sebastian (Venice), perishing, 86.\n\nTitian, eternally right, 157.\n  \" sketch by (Florence), 164.\n  \" woodcuts of, 70.\n\nTombs, English waste of money on, 78.\n\nTrade, art-faculty, its employment in design in, 30.\n  \" freedom from rivalry, healthful, 110 _seq._\n  \" government direction of, 129.\n  \" guilds, decoration of their buildings, 110 _seq._\n\nTrade, guilds, _continued_:--\n  \"     \" under public management, 114.\n  \" secrecy of, bad, 110 _seq._\n  \" true co-operation in, what, 112.\n  \" youths to learn some manual, 128.\n\nTradesmen, their modern social position wrong, 114.\n\nTruth, dependent on justice and love, 152.\n\nTurner, prices of his pictures, when a boy, 98.\n  \" his want of gentle training, 28.\n\n\nUgliness, is evil, 177.\n\nUsury, a \"mortal sin,\" 185.\n\nUtility, not to be the sole object of life, 10.\n\n\nVellum, for water-colour drawing, 43.\n\nVenice, art of, aided by beautiful dress, 54.\n  \" Ducal Palace, chronology of the capital, 141 _n._\n\nVerona, amphitheatre of, 76.\n  \" battle-fields of, 77.\n  \" greatest art-treasury in the world, 76 _seq._\n  \" typical of Gothic architecture, 76.\n\nVeronese, P., eternally right, 157.\n  \"  \"Family of Darius,\" purchased by National Gallery, for L14,000, 55.\n\nVerrocchio, a goldsmith, 46.\n  \" master of Leonardo, 46.\n\nVirtues, the, fresco of, by A. Lorenzetti, at Siena, 57.\n  \" winged (Siena), _ib._ _seq._\n\n\nWages, fixed rate of, advocated, 113, 129.\n\nWall-paper, 159.\n\nWants, the invention of new, 138.\n\nWar, destruction of works of art by, 75.\n\nWater-colour drawings, perishable, and why, 42.\n  \"  \" to be on vellum, not paper, 43.\n\nWealth, author's respect for true, 1.\n  \" duty and, 119-20.\n  \" earned and inherited, 143.\n\nWealth, _continued_:--\n  \" freedom of spending, to be allowed, 142.\n  \" how gained, 117.\n  \" means well-being, 147.\n  \" mediaeval view of, 4.\n  \" modern honour paid to, 1, 2.\n  \" power of, 4.\n  \" principles of, 114 _seq._\n  \" works of art, how far they are, 132 _n._\n\nWealthy, the, \"pilots of the State,\" 119, 142.\n  \"       \" claims of the poor on, 143.\n  \"       \" way in which they should spend their money, 143.\n\nWisdom, preciousness of, 174.\n\nWomen, education of, drawing, 158-9.\n  \" J. S. Mill on the position of, 180.\n\nWoodcuts, cheap and nasty, 40.\n\nWordsworth's essay on the Poor Law Amendment Bill, 16 _n._\n\nWorkhouses, to be worthy their name, 114.\n\nWorking-men's College, drawing at the, 156.\n\n\nYouth, encouragement good for, 26 _seq._\n  \" of a nation, to be guarded, 134.\n  \" work of a, necessarily imperfect, but blameable, if bold or slovenly, 25.\n\n\nTHE END.\n\nPrinted by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.\n\nEdinburgh & London","title":"A Joy For Ever (and Its Price in the Market)","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":56962}