essays and lectures-第15章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



of　the　school　of　Florence　rather　than　of　that　of　Venice　that　he　is

kinsman；　feeling　that　the　close　imitation　of　Nature　is　a　disturbing

element　in　imaginative　art。　　The　visible　aspect　of　modern　life

disturbs　him　not；　rather　is　it　for　him　to　render　eternal　all　that

is　beautiful　in　Greek；　Italian；　and　Celtic　legend。　　To　Morris　we

owe　poetry　whose　perfect　precision　and　clearness　of　word　and　vision

has　not　been　excelled　in　the　literature　of　our　country；　and　by　the

revival　of　the　decorative　arts　he　has　given　to　our　individualised

romantic　movement　the　social　idea　and　the　social　factor　also。



But　the　revolution　accomplished　by　this　clique　of　young　men；　with

Ruskin's　faultless　and　fervent　eloquence　to　help　them；　was　not　one

of　ideas　merely　but　of　execution；　not　one　of　conceptions　but　of

creations。



For　the　great　eras　in　the　history　of　the　development　of　all　the

arts　have　been　eras　not　of　increased　feeling　or　enthusiasm　in

feeling　for　art；　but　of　new　technical　improvements　primarily　and

specially。　　The　discovery　of　marble　quarries　in　the　purple　ravines

of　Pentelicus　and　on　the　little　low…lying　hills　of　the　island　of

Paros　gave　to　the　Greeks　the　opportunity　for　that　intensified

vitality　of　action；　that　more　sensuous　and　simple　humanism；　to

which　the　Egyptian　sculptor　working　laboriously　in　the　hard

porphyry　and　rose…coloured　granite　of　the　desert　could　not　attain。

The　splendour　of　the　Venetian　school　began　with　the　introduction　of

the　new　oil　medium　for　painting。　　The　progress　in　modern　music　has

been　due　to　the　invention　of　new　instruments　entirely；　and　in　no

way　to　an　increased　consciousness　on　the　part　of　the　musician　of

any　wider　social　aim。　　The　critic　may　try　and　trace　the　deferred

resolutions　of　Beethoven　to　some　sense　of　the　incompleteness　of　the

modern　intellectual　spirit；　but　the　artist　would　have　answered；　as

one　of　them　did　afterwards；　'Let　them　pick　out　the　fifths　and　leave

us　at　peace。'



And　so　it　is　in　poetry　also：　　all　this　love　of　curious　French

metres　like　the　Ballade；　the　Villanelle；　the　Rondel；　all　this

increased　value　laid　on　elaborate　alliterations；　and　on　curious

words　and　refrains；　such　as　you　will　find　in　Dante　Rossetti　and

Swinburne；　is　merely　the　attempt　to　perfect　flute　and　viol　and

trumpet　through　which　the　spirit　of　the　age　and　the　lips　of　the

poet　may　blow　the　music　of　their　many　messages。



And　so　it　has　been　with　this　romantic　movement　of　ours：　　it　is　a

reaction　against　the　empty　conventional　workmanship；　the　lax

execution　of　previous　poetry　and　painting；　showing　itself　in　the

work　of　such　men　as　Rossetti　and　Burne…Jones　by　a　far　greater

splendour　of　colour；　a　far　more　intricate　wonder　of　design　than

English　imaginative　art　has　shown　before。　　In　Rossetti's　poetry　and

the　poetry　of　Morris；　Swinburne　and　Tennyson　a　perfect　precision

and　choice　of　language；　a　style　flawless　and　fearless；　a　seeking

for　all　sweet　and　precious　melodies　and　a　sustaining　consciousness

of　the　musical　value　of　each　word　are　opposed　to　that　value　which

is　merely　intellectual。　　In　this　respect　they　are　one　with　the

romantic　movement　of　France　of　which　not　the　least　characteristic

note　was　struck　by　Theophile　Gautier's　advice　to　the　young　poet　to

read　his　dictionary　every　day；　as　being　the　only　book　worth　a

poet's　reading。



While；　then；　the　material　of　workmanship　is　being　thus　elaborated

and　discovered　to　have　in　itself　incommunicable　and　eternal

qualities　of　its　own；　qualities　entirely　satisfying　to　the　poetic

sense　and　not　needing　for　their　aesthetic　effect　any　lofty

intellectual　vision；　any　deep　criticism　of　life　or　even　any

passionate　human　emotion　at　all；　the　spirit　and　the　method　of　the

poet's　working　…　what　people　call　his　inspiration　…　have　not

escaped　the　controlling　influence　of　the　artistic　spirit。　　Not　that

the　imagination　has　lost　its　wings；　but　we　have　accustomed

ourselves　to　count　their　innumerable　pulsations；　to　estimate　their

limitless　strength；　to　govern　their　ungovernable　freedom。



To　the　Greeks　this　problem　of　the　conditions　of　poetic　production；

and　the　places　occupied　by　either　spontaneity　or　self…consciousness

in　any　artistic　work；　had　a　peculiar　fascination。　　We　find　it　in

the　mysticism　of　Plato　and　in　the　rationalism　of　Aristotle。　　We

find　it　later　in　the　Italian　Renaissance　agitating　the　minds　of

such　men　as　Leonardo　da　Vinci。　　Schiller　tried　to　adjust　the

balance　between　form　and　feeling；　and　Goethe　to　estimate　the

position　of　self…consciousness　in　art。　　Wordsworth's　definition　of

poetry　as　'emotion　remembered　in　tranquillity'　may　be　taken　as　an

analysis　of　one　of　the　stages　through　which　all　imaginative　work

has　to　pass；　and　in　Keats's　longing　to　be　'able　to　compose　without

this　fever'　（I　quote　from　one　of　his　letters）；　his　desire　to

substitute　for　poetic　ardour　'a　more　thoughtful　and　quiet　power；'

we　may　discern　the　most　important　moment　in　the　evolution　of　that

artistic　life。　　The　question　made　an　early　and　strange　appearance

in　your　literature　too；　and　I　need　not　remind　you　how　deeply　the

young　poets　of　the　French　romantic　movement　were　excited　and

stirred　by　Edgar　Allan　Poe's　analysis　of　the　workings　of　his　own

imagination　in　the　creating　of　that　supreme　imaginative　work　which

we　know　by　the　name　of　THE　RAVEN。



In　the　last　century；　when　the　intellectual　and　didactic　element　had

intruded　to　such　an　extent　into　the　kingdom　which　belongs　to

poetry；　it　was　against　the　claims　of　the　understanding　that　an

artist　like　Goethe　had　to　protest。　　'The　more　incomprehensible　to

the　understanding　a　poem　is　the　better　for　it；'　he　said　once；

asserting　the　complete　supremacy　of　the　imagination　in　poetry　as　of

reason　in　prose。　　But　in　this　century　it　is　rather　against　the

claims　of　the　emotional　faculties；　the　claims　of　mere　sentiment　and

feeling；　that　the　artist　must　react。　　The　simple　utterance　of　joy

is　not　poetry　any　more　than　a　mere　personal　cry　of　pain；　and　the

real　experiences　of　the　artist　are　always　those　which　do　not　find

their　direct　expression　but　are　gathered　up　and　absorbed　into　some

artistic　form　which　seems；　from　such　real　experiences；　to　be　the

farthest　removed　and　the　most　alien。



'The　heart　contains　passion　but　the　imagination　alone　contains

poetry；'　says　Charles　Baudelaire。　　This　too　was　the　lesson　that

Theophile　Gautier；　most　subtle　of　all　modern　critics；　most

fascinating　of　all　modern　poets；　was　never　tired　of　teaching　…

'Everybody　is　affected　by　a　sunrise　or　a　sunset。'　　The　absolute

distinction　of　the　artist　is　not　his　capacity　to　feel　nature　so

much　as　his　power　of　rendering　it。　　The　entire　subordination　of　all

intellectual　and　emotional　faculties　to　the　vital　and　informing

poetic　principle　is　the　surest　sign　of　the　strength　of　our

Renaissance。



We　have　seen　the　artistic　spirit　working；　first　in　the　delightful

and　technical　sphere　of　language；　the　sphere　of　expression　as

opposed　to　subject；　then　controlling　the　imagination　of　the　poet　in

dealing　with　his　subject。　　And　now　I　would　point　out　to　you　its

operation　in　the　choice　of　subject。　　The　recognition　of　a　separate

realm　for　the　artist；　a　consciousness　of　the　absolute　difference

between　the　world　of　art　and　the　world　of　real　fact；　between

classic　grace　and　absolute　reality；　forms　not　merely　the　essential

element　of　any　aesthetic　charm　but　is　the　characteristic　of　all

great　imaginative　work　and　of　all　great　eras　of　artistic　creation　…

of　the　age　of　Phidias　as　of　the　age　of　Michael　Angelo；　of　the　age

of　Sophocles　as　of　the　age　of　Goethe。



Art　never　harms　itself　by　keeping　aloof　from　the　social　problems　of

the　day：　　rather；　by　so　doing；　it　more　completely　realises　for　us

that　which　we　desire。　　For　to　most　of　us　the　real　life　is　the　life

we　do　not　lead；　and　thus；　remaining　more　true　to　the　essence　of　its

own　perfection；　more　jealous　of　its　own　unattainable　beauty；　is

less　likely　to　forget　form　in　feeling　or　to　accept　the　passion　of

creation　as　any　substitute　for　the　beauty　of　the　created　thing。



The　artist　is　indeed　the　child　of　his　own　age；　but　the　present　will

not　be　to　him　a　whit　more　real　than　the　past；　for；　like　the

philosopher　of　the　Platonic　vision；　the　poet　is　the　spectator　of

all　time　and　of　all　existence。　　For　him　no　form　is　obsolete；　no

subject　out　of　date；　rather；　whatever　of　life　and　passion　the　world

has　known；　in　desert　of　Judaea　or　in　Arcadian　valley；　by　the　rivers

of　Troy　or　the　rivers　of　Damascus；　in　the　crowded　and　hideous

streets　of　a　modern　city　or　by　the　pleasant　ways　of　Camelot　…　all

lies　before　him　like　an　open　scroll；　all　is　still　instinct　with

beautiful　life。　　He　will　take　of　it　what　is　salutary　for　his　own

spirit；　no　more；　choosing　some　facts　and　rejecting　others　with　the

calm　artistic　control　of　one　who　is　in　possession　of　the　secret　of

beauty。



There　is　indeed　a　poetical　attitude　to　be　adopted　towards　all

things；　but　all　things　are　not　fit　subjects　for　poetry。　　Into　the

secure　and　sacred　house　of　Beauty　the　true　artist　will　admit

nothing　that　is　harsh　or　disturbing；　nothing　that　gives　pain；

nothing　that　is　debatable；　nothing　about　which　men　argue。　　He　can

steep　himself；　if　he　wishes；　in　the　discussion　of　all　the　social

problems　of　his　day；　poor…laws　and　local　taxation；　free　trade　and

bimetallic　currency；　and　the　like；　but　when　he　writes　on　these

subjects　it　will　be；　as　Milton　nobly　expressed　it；　with　his　left

hand；　in　prose　and　not　in　verse；　in　a　pamphlet　and　not　in　a　lyric。

This　exquisite　spirit　of　artistic　choice　was　not　in　Byron：

Wordsworth　had　it　not。　　In　the　work　of　both　these　men　there　is　much

that　we　have　to　reject；　much　that　does　not　give　us　that　sense　of

calm　and　perfect　repose　which　should　be　the　effect　of　all　fine；

imaginative　work。　　But　in　Keats　it　seemed　to　have　been　incarnate；

and　in　his　lovely　ODE　ON　A　GRECIAN　URN　it　found　its　most　secure　and

faultless　expression；　in　the　pageant　of　the　EARTHLY　PARADISE　and

the　knights　and　ladies　of　Burne…Jones　it　is　the　one　dominant　note。



It　is　to　no　avail　that　the　Muse　of　Poetry　be　called；　even　by　such　a

clarion　note　as　Whitman's；　to　migrate　from　Greece　and　Ionia　and　to

placard　REMOVED　and　TO　LET　on　the　rocks　of　the　snowy　Parnassus。

Calliope's　call　is　not　yet　closed；　nor　are　the　epics　of　Asia　ended；

the　Sphinx　is　not　yet　silent；　nor　the　fountain　of　Castaly　dry。　　For

art　is　very　life　itself　and　knows　nothing　of　death；　she　is　absolute

truth　and　takes　no　care　of　fact；　she　sees　（as　I　remember　Mr。

Swinburne　insisting　on　at　dinner）　that　Achilles　is　even　now　more

actual　and　real　than　Wellington；　not　merely　more　noble　and

interesting　as　a　type　and　figure　but　more　positive　and　real。



Literature　must　rest　always　on　a　principle；　and　temporal

considerations　are　no　principle　at　all。　　For　to　the　poet　all　times

and　places　are　one；　the　stuff　he　deals　with　is　eternal　and

eternally　the　same：　　no　theme　is　inept；　no　past　or　present

preferable。　　The　steam　whistle