feeling which, exaggerated, and its object mistaken by them, though
still held holy and pure, was the cause of the retirement of many of
the greatest men from the world to the monastery; there, in
undisturbed silence and humility,
"Monotonous to paint
Those endless cloisters and eternal aisles
With the same series, Virgin, Babe, and Saint,
With the same cold, calm, beautiful regard."
Even with this there is not associated a melancholy feeling alone;
for, although the object was mistaken, yet there is evinced a
consciousness of purpose definite and most elevated; and again, we
must remember, as a great cause of this effect, that the Arts were,
for the most part, cleric, and not laic, or at least were under the
predominant influence of the clergy, who were the most important
patrons by far, and their houses the safest receptacles for the works
of the great painter.
The modern artist does not retire to monasteries, or practise
discipline; but he may show his participation in the same high
feeling by a firm attachment to truth in every point of
representation, which is the most just method. For how can good be
sought by evil means, or by falsehood, or by slight in any degree? By
a determination to represent the thing and the whole of the thing, by
training himself to the deepest observation of its fact and detail,
enabling himself to reproduce, as far as possible, nature herself,
the painter will best evince his share of faith.
It is by this attachment to truth in its most severe form that the
followers of the Arts have to show that they share in the peculiar
character of the present age,--a humility of knowledge, a diffidence
of attainment; for, as Emerson has well observed,
"The time is infected with Hamlet's unhappiness,--
'Sicklied o'er with the the pale cast of thought.'
Is this so bad then? Sight is the last thing to be pitied. Would we
be blind? Do we fear lest we should outsee nature and God, and drink
truth dry?"
It has been said that there is presumption in this movement of the
modern school, a want of deference to established authorities, a
removing of ancient landmarks. This is best answered by the
profession that nothing can be more humble than the pretension to the
observation of facts alone, and the truthful rendering of them. If we
are not to depart from established principles, how are we to advance
at all? Are we to remain still? Remember, no thing remains still;
that whi
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