Chapter VI: Literary Criticism (4)

SIR: I am obliged and flattered by the tone of your article on my "Queen of the Air" in your last number, but not at all by the substance of it; and it so much misinterprets my attempt in that book that I will ask your leave to correct it in main points.[157] The "Queen of the Air" was written to show, not what could be fancied, but what was felt and meant, in the myth of Athena. Every British sailor knows, that Neptune is the god of the sea. He does _not_ know that Athena is the goddess of the air; I doubt if many of our school-boys know it--I doubt even if many of our school-masters know it; and I believe the evidence of it given in the "Queen of the Air" to be the first clear and connected approximate proof of it which has yet been rendered by scientific mythology, properly so called.

You say, "I have not attempted to explain all mythology."

I wonder what you would have said of me if I _had_? I only know a little piece of it here and there, just as I know a crag of alp or a bend of river; and even what I know could not be put into a small octavo volume. Nevertheless, I should have had another such out by this time on the Apolline Myths, and, perhaps, one on the Earth-Gods, but for my Oxford work; and shall at all events have a little more to say on the matter than I have yet said--and much need there is--when all that has yet been done by "scientific" mythology ends in the assertion made by your reviewer, that "mythology is useful mainly as a storehouse for poets, and for literary men in want of some simile or metaphor to produce a striking effect."

I am, Sir, your faithful servant,
JOHN RUSKIN.

_May_ 18, 1871.

FOOTNOTES:

[157] The article was entitled "Aryan Mythology: Second Notice," the first notice having been a review of Mr. Gladstone's "Juventus Mundi," and of some other mythological works. (See the _Asiatic_, April 25 and May 16, 1871.) The nature of the praise and criticism of the article may be gathered from this letter.

[From "The Morning Chronicle," January 20, 1855. (Reprinted in "The Evening Journal," January 22.)]

_THE ANIMALS OF SCRIPTURE: A REVIEW._[158]

Among the various illustrated works which usually grace the beginning of the year, has appeared one which, though of graver and less attractive character than its companions, is likely to occupy a more permanent place on the library shelves. We allude to "Illustrations of Scripture, by an Animal Painter," a work which, whatever its faults or weaknesses, shows at least a singular power of giving reality and interest to scenes which are apt to be but feebly, if at all, brought before the mental vision, in consequence of our familiarity with the words which describe them. The idea of the work is itself sufficiently original. The animals are throughout principal, and the pathos or moral of the passage to be illustrated is developed from its apparently subordinate part in it. Thus the luxury and idolatry of the reign of Solomon are hinted behind a group of "apes and peacocks;" the Deluge is subordinate to the dove; and the healing of the lunatic at Gennesareth to the destruction of the herd of swine.

In general, to approach an object from a new point of view is to place it in a clearer light, and perhaps the very strangeness of the treatment in some cases renders the subject more impressive than it could have been made by any more regular method of conception. But, at all events, supposing the studies of the artist to have been chiefly directed to animals, and her power to lie principally in seizing their character, she is to be thanked for filling her sketches of the inferior creatures with so much depth of meaning, and rendering the delineation even of an ape, or a swallow, suggestive of the most solemn trains of thought.

As so suggestive, without pretence or formalism, these drawings deserve a place of peculiar honor in the libraries of the young, while there are also some qualities in them which fit them for companionship with more elaborate works of art. The subject of "Lazarus" is treated with a courage and tenderness which say much for the painter's imagination, and more for her heart; and the waste of waters above which the raven hovers is expressed, though rudely, yet in a way which tells of many an hour spent in watching the play of the evening light upon the movement of the wearied sea. It is true that most of the compositions are weakened by a very visible contempt, if not ignorance, of the laws which regulate the harmonies of shade, as well as by a painful deficiency in the drawing. Still there is a life and sincerity in them which are among the rarest qualities in art; and one characteristic, very remarkable in the works of a person described in the text (we doubt not, much against her will) as an "accomplished lady"--we mean the peculiar tendency to conceptions of fearfulness, or horror, rather than of beauty. The camel, for instance, might, we should have thought, as easily, and to many persons much more pleasingly, have illustrated the meeting of Rebekah with the servant of Abraham, as the desolation of Rabbah; and the dog might as gracefully have been brought forward to remind us of the words of the Syro-Phœnician woman, as to increase the horror of the death of Jezebel. There are curious evidences of a similar disposition in some of the other plates; and while it appears to us indicative of the strength of a mind of no common order, we would caution the fair artist against permitting it to appear too frequently. It renders the series of drawings in some degree repulsive to many persons, and even by those who can sympathize with it might sometimes be suspected of having its root in a sublime kind of affectation.

We have spoken of these studies as drawings. They are, in fact, as good, being photographic facsimiles of the original sketches. The text is copious, and useful as an elucidation of the natural history of Scripture.

FOOTNOTES:

[158] The full title of the book here reviewed by Mr. Ruskin, and long since out of print, was "Twenty Photographs; being illustrations of Scripture. By an Animal Painter; with Notes by a Naturalist." Imperial 4to. Edinburgh: Constable, 1854. The work was, however, reprinted, with engravings of the photographs, in _Good Words_ for 1861.

[From "The Builder," December 9, 1854.]

_"LIMNER" AND ILLUMINATION._[159]

(_To the Editor of "The Builder._")

I do not usually answer objections to my written statements, otherwise I should waste my life in idle controversy; but as what I say to the workmen at the Architectural Museum is necessarily brief, and in its words, though not in its substance, unconsidered, I will answer, if you will permit me, any questions or cavils which you may think worthy of admission into your columns on the subject of these lectures.

I do not know if the Cambridge correspondent, whose letter you inserted last week, is more zealous for the honor of Cary, or anxious to detect me in a mistake. If the former, he will find, if he take the trouble to look at the note in the 264th page of the second volume of the "Stones of Venice," that Cary's reputation is not likely to suffer at my hands.[160] But the translation in the instance quoted is inadmissible. It does not matter in the least whence the word "limner" is derived. I did not know when I found fault with it that it was a corruption of "illuminator," but I knew perfectly that it did not in the existing state of the English language _mean_ "illuminator." No one talks of "limning a missal," or of a "limned missal." The word is now universally understood as signifying a painter or draughtsman in the ordinary sense, and cannot be accepted as a _translation_ of the phrase of which it is a _corruption_.

Touching the last clause of the letter, I should have thought that a master of arts of Cambridge might have had wit enough to comprehend that characters may be illegible by being far off, as well as by being ill-shaped; and that it is not less difficult to read what is too small to be seen than what is too strange to be understood. The inscription on the Houses of Parliament are illegible, not because they are in black letters, but because, like all the rest of the work on that, I suppose, the most effeminate and effectless heap of stones ever raised by man, they are utterly unfit for their position.

J. RUSKIN.

FOOTNOTES:

[159] In his lecture on "the distinction between illumination and painting," being the first of a series on Decorative Color delivered at the Architectural Museum, Cannon Street, Westminster, Mr. Ruskin is reported (_Builder_, Nov. 25, 1854) to have said, "The line which is given by Cary, 'which they of Paris call the limner's skill,' is not properly translated. The word, which in the original is _'alluminare_,' does not mean the limner's art, but the art of the illuminator--the writer and illuminator of books." In criticism of this remark, "M. A.," writing to the _Builder_ from Cambridge, defended Cary's translation by referring to Johnson's dictionary to show that "limner" was after all corrupted from "enlumineur," _i.e._, "a decorator of books with initial pictures." His letter concluded by remarking upon another of Mr. Ruskin's statements in the same lecture, namely, that "Black letter is not really illegible, it is only that we are not accustomed to it.... The fact is, _no_ kind of character is really illegible. If you wish to see real illegibility, go to the Houses of Parliament and look at the inscriptions there!"

The present letter was written in reply to "M. A.," from whom the latter portion of it elicited a further letter, together with one from "Vindex," in defence of Sir Charles Barry and the Houses of Parliament (see the _Builder_, Dec. 16, 1854).

[160] "It is generally better to read ten lines of any poet in the original language, however painfully, than ten cantos of a translation. But an exception may be made in favor of Cary's 'Dante.' If no poet ever was liable to lose more in translation, none was ever so carefully translated; and I hardly know whether most to admire the rigid fidelity, or the sweet and solemn harmony, of Cary's verse," etc. See the note to the "Stones of Venice," at the above-named page.

[From the "Transactions of the New Shakspere Society" for 1878-9, pp. 409-12.]

_NOTES ON A WORD IN SHAKESPEARE._[161]

"And yon gray lines
That _fret_ the clouds are messengers of day."

JULIUS CÆSAR, II. i. 103-4.

I.

BRANTWOOD, CONISTON, LANCASHIRE.

MY DEAR FURNIVALL: Of course, in any great writer's word, the question is far less what the word came from, than where it has come to. _Fret_ means all manner of things in that place; primarily, the rippling of clouds--as sea by wind; secondarily, the breaking it asunder for light to come through. It implies a certain degree of vexation--some dissolution--much _order_, and extreme beauty. I have myself used this word substantively, to express the rippled edge of a wing-feather. In architecture and jewellery it means simply roughening in a decorative manner.[162]

Ever affectionately yours,
J. RUSKIN.

FOOTNOTES:

[161] This and the next letter were written in answer to Mr. Furnivall, who, upon being questioned what appearance in the clouds was intended by the word "fret" in the above passage, referred the point to Mr. Ruskin, whose answers were subsequently read at the forty-fifth meeting of the Society, Oct. 11, 1878.

[162] In modern English "chasing" has got confused with it, but it should be separated again.

_NOTES ON A WORD IN SHAKESPEARE._

II.

EDINBURGH, _29th Sept._, 1878.

DEAR FURNIVALL: Your kind letter comes to me here, and I must answer on this paper, for, if that bit of note is really of any use to you, you must please add this word or two more in printing, as it wouldn't do to let it be such a mere fret on the vault of its subject. You say not one man in 150 knows what the line means: my dear Furnivall, not one man in 15,000, in the 19th century, knows, or ever can know, what _any_ line--or any _word_ means, used by a great writer. For most words stand for things that are seen, or things that are thought of; and in the 19th century there is certainly not one man in 15,000 who ever looks at anything, and not one in 15,000,000 capable of a thought. Take the intelligence of this word in this line for example--the root of the whole matter is, first, that the reader should have seen what he has often heard of, but probably not seen twice in his life--"Daybreak." Next, it is needful he should think what "break" means in that word--what is broken, namely, and by what. That is to say, the cloud of night is Broken up, as a city is broken up (Jerusalem, when Zedekiah fled), as a school breaks up, as a constitution, or a ship, is broken up; in every case with a not inconsiderable change of idea and addition to the central word. This breaking up is done by the Day, which breaks--_out_, as a man breaks, or bursts _out_, from his restraint in a passion; breaks _down_ in tears; or breaks _in_, as from heaven to earth--with a breach in the cloud-wall of it; or breaks _out_, with a sense of _outward_--as the sun--out and out, farther and farther, after rain. Well; next, the thing that the day breaks up is partly a garment, _rent_, more than broken; a _mantle_, the day itself "in russet mantle clad"--the blanket of the dark, _torn_ to be peeped through--whereon instantly you get into a whole host of new ideas; _fretting_ as a moth _frets_ a garment; unravelling at the edge, afterwards;--thence you get into _fringe_, which is an entirely double word, meaning partly a thing that guards, and partly a thing that is worn away on the ground; the French _Frange_ has, I believe, a reminiscence of φρασσω in it--our "fringe" runs partly toward _frico_ and friction--both are essentially connected with _frango_, and the fringe of "breakers" at the shores of all seas, and the breaking of the ripples and foam all over them--but this is wholly different in a northern mind, which has only seen the sea

Break, break, break, on its _cold_ gray stones,--

and a southern, which has seen a hot sea on hot sand break into lightning of phosphor flame--half a mile of fire in an instant--following in time, like the flash of minute-guns. Then come the great new ideas of order and time, and

I did but tell her she mistook her _frets_,
And bowed her hand, etc.,

and so the timely succession of either ball, flower, or dentil, in architecture: but this, again, going off to a totally different and still lovely idea, the main one in the word _aurifrigium_--which rooted once in _aurifex_, went on in Etruscan work, followed in Florence into a much closer connection with _frigidus_--their style being always in _frosted_ gold (see the dew on a cabbage-leaf or, better, on a gray lichen, in early sunshine)--going back, nobody knows how far, but to the Temple of the Dew of Athens, and gold of Mycenæ, anyhow; and in Etruria to the Deluge, I suppose. Well, then, the notion of the music of morning comes in--with strings of lyre (or _frets_ of Katharine's instrument, whatever it was) and stops of various _quills_; which gets us into another group beginning with _plectrum_, going aside again into _plico_ and _plight_, and Milton's

"Play in the plighted clouds"

(the quills on the fretful porcupine are all thought of, first, in their piped complexity like rushes, _before_ the standing up in ill-temper), and so on into the _plight_ of folded drapery, and round again to our blanket. I think that's enough to sketch out the compass of the word. Of course the real power of it in any place depends on the writer's grasp of it, and use of the facet he wants to cut with.

[From "The Theatre," March, 1880, p. 169.]

"_THE MERCHANT OF VENICE._"[163]

_6th Feb._, 1880.

I have no doubt that whatever Mr. Irving has stated that I said, I _did_ say. But in personal address to an artist, to whom one is introduced for the first time, one does not usually say _all_ that may be in one's mind. And if expressions, limited, if not even somewhat exaggerated, by courtesy, be afterwards quoted as a total and carefully-expressed criticism, the general reader will be--or may be easily--much misled. I did and _do_ much admire Mr. Irving's own acting of Shylock. But I entirely dissent (and indignantly as well as entirely) from his general reading and treatment of the play. And I think that a modern audience will _invariably_ be not only wrong, but diametrically and with polar accuracy opposite to the real view of any great author in the moulding of his work. So far as I could in kindness venture, I expressed my feelings to that effect, in a letter which I wrote to Mr. Irving on the day after I saw the play; and I should be sincerely obliged to him, under the existing circumstances, if he would publish THE WHOLE of that letter.

FOOTNOTES:

[163] The circumstances connected with the present letter, or rather extract from one, are as follows: After witnessing the performance of "The Merchant of Venice" at the Lyceum Theatre, Mr. Ruskin had some conversation with Mr. Irving on the subject. In the _Theatre_ of January 1880--p. 63--appeared a paragraph which stated that at the interview named Mr. Ruskin had declared Mr. Irving's "Shylock" to be "noble, tender, and true," and it is to that statement that the present letter, which appeared in the March number of the _Theatre_, relates. With reference to the letter privately addressed to Mr. Irving, the _Theatre_ of April (p. 249) had a note to the effect that Mr. Irving had, for excellent and commendable reasons, preferred it not being made public. For a full statement of Mr. Ruskin's views of "The Merchant of Venice," see "Munera Pulveris," p. 102.

_RECITATIONS._

SHEFFIELD, _16th February_, 1880.

MY DEAR SIR:[164] I am most happy to assure you, in reply to your interesting letter of the 12th, that I heard your daughters' recitations in London last autumn, with quite unmixed pleasure and the sincerest admiration--nor merely that, but with grave change in my opinions of the general value of recitations as a means of popular instruction. Usually, I like better to hear beautiful poetry read quietly than recited with action. But I felt, in hearing Shelley's "Cloud" recited (I think it was by Miss Josephine) that I also was "one of the people," and understood the poem better than ever before, though I am by way of knowing something about clouds, too. I also know the "Jackdaw of Rheims" pretty nearly by heart; but I would gladly come to London straightway, had I the time, to hear Miss Peggy speak it again. And--in fine--I have not seen any public entertainment--for many a long year--at once so sweet, so innocent, and so helpful, as that which your children can give to all the gentle and simple in mind and heart.--Believe me, my dear Sir, faithfully, and with all felicitation, yours,

J. RUSKIN.

FOOTNOTES:

[164] This letter was addressed to Mr. R. T. Webling, by whom it was afterwards printed as a testimonial of the interest and success of his daughters' recitations. It was reprinted in the _Daily News_ (Feb. 18, 1880).

APPENDIX.

LETTER TO W. C. BENNETT, LL.D. 1852.

LETTER TO THOMAS GUTHRIE, D.D. 1853.

MR. WINDUS' SALE OF PICTURES. 1859.

AT THE PLAY. 1867.

AN OBJECT OF CHARITY. 1868.

EXCUSES FROM CORRESPONDENCE. 1868.

LETTER TO THE AUTHOR OF A REVIEW. 1872.

AN OXFORD PROTEST. 1875.

MR. RUSKIN AND MR. LOWE. 1877.

THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF RUSKIN. 1878.
(Two Letters: September 30, and October 23.)

THE SOCIETY OF THE ROSE. 1879.