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Page 27
* * * * *
Radegonde,
Prax�de,
Euph�mie,
* * * * *
Bathilde, Eug�nie.
Such was the system of Theology into which the Imaginative Religion of
Europe was crystallized, by the growth of its own best faculties, and
the influence of all accessible and credible authorities, during the
period between the eleventh and fifteenth centuries inclusive. Its
spiritual power is completely represented by the angelic and apostolic
dynasties, and the women-saints in Paradise; for of the men-saints,
beneath the apostles and prophets, none but St. Christopher, St.
Nicholas, St. Anthony, St. James, and St. George, attained anything
like the influence of Catharine or Cecilia; for the very curious
reason, that the men-saints were much more true, real, and numerous.
St. Martin was reverenced all over Europe, but definitely, as a man,
and the Bishop of Tours. So St. Ambrose at Milan, and St. Gregory at
Rome, and hundreds of good men more, all over the world; while the
really good women remained, though not rare, inconspicuous. The
virtues of French Clotilde, and Swiss Berthe, were painfully borne
down in the balance of visible judgment, by the guilt of the Gonerils,
Regans, and Lady Macbeths, whose spectral procession closes only
with the figure of Eleanor in Woodstock maze; and in dearth of
nearer objects, the daily brighter powers of fancy dwelt with
more concentrated devotion on the stainless ideals of the earlier
maid-martyrs. And observe, even the loftier fame of the men-saints
above named, as compared with the rest, depends on precisely the same
character of indefinite personality; and on the representation, by
each of them, of a moral idea which may be embodied and painted in
a miraculous legend; credible, as history, even then, only to the
vulgar; but powerful over them, nevertheless, exactly in proportion
to the degree in which it can be pictured and fancied as a living
creature. Consider even yet in these days of mechanism, how the
dullest John Bull cannot with perfect complacency adore _himself_,
except under the figure of Britannia or the British Lion; and how the
existence of the popular jest-book, which might have seemed secure in
its necessity to our weekly recreation, is yet virtually centred on
the imaginary animation of a puppet, and the imaginary elevation to
reason of a dog. But in the Middle Ages, this action of the Fancy,
now distorted and despised, was the happy and sacred tutress of every
faculty of the body and soul; and the works and thoughts of art, the
joys and toils of men, rose and flowed on in the bright air of it,
with the aspiration of a flame, and the beneficence of a fountain.
And now, in the rest of my lecture, I had intended to give you a broad
summary of the rise and fall of English art, born under this code of
theology, and this enthusiasm of duty;--of its rise, from the rude
vaults of Westminster, to the finished majesty of Wells;--and of its
fall, from that brief hour of the thirteenth century, through the wars
of the Bolingbroke, and the pride of the Tudor, and the lust of the
Stewart, to expire under the mocking snarl and ruthless blow of the
Puritan. But you know that I have always, in my most serious work,
allowed myself to be influenced by those Chances, as they are now
called,--but to my own feeling and belief, guidances, and even, if
rightly understood, commands,--which, as far as I have read history,
the best and sincerest men think providential. Had this lecture been
on common principles of art, I should have finished it as I intended,
without fear of its being the worse for my consistency. But it deals,
on the contrary, with a subject, respecting which every sentence I
write, or speak, is of importance in its issue; and I allowed, as you
heard, the momentary observation of a friend, to give an entirely new
cast to the close of my last lecture. Much more, I feel it incumbent
upon me in this one, to take advantage of the most opportune help,
though in an unexpected direction, given me by my constant tutor,
Professor Westwood. I went to dine with him, a day or two ago,
mainly--being neither of us, I am thankful to say, blue-ribanded--to
drink his health on his recovery from his recent accident. Whereupon
he gave me a feast of good talk, old wine, and purple manuscripts. And
having had as much of all as I could well carry, just as it came to
the good-night, out he brings, for a finish, this leaf of manuscript
in my hand, which he has lent me to show you,--a leaf of the Bible of
Charles the Bald!
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