_
THE FIFTH MORNING. THE STRAIT GATE.
As you return this morning to St. Mary's, you may as well observe--the
matter before us being concerning gates,--that the western facade of the
church is of two periods. Your Murray refers it all to the latest of these;
--I forget when, and do not care;--in which the largest flanking columns,
and the entire effective mass of the walls, with their riband mosaics and
high pediment, were built in front of, and above, what the barbarian
renaissance designer chose to leave of the pure old Dominican church. You
may see his ungainly jointings at the pedestals of the great columns,
running through the pretty, parti-coloured base, which, with the 'Strait'
Gothic doors, and the entire lines of the fronting and flanking tombs
(where not restored by the Devil-begotten brood of modern Florence), is
of pure, and exquisitely severe and refined, fourteenth century Gothic,
with superbly carved bearings on its shields. The small detached line of
tombs on the left, untouched in its sweet colour and living weed ornament,
I would fain have painted, stone by stone: but one can never draw in front
of a church in these republican days; for all the blackguard children of
the neighbourhood come to howl, and throw stones, on the steps, and the
ball or stone play against these sculptured tombs, as a dead wall adapted
for that purpose only, is incessant in the fine days when I could have
worked.
If you enter by the door most to the left, or north, and turn immediately
to the right, on the interior of the wall of the facade is an Annunciation,
visible enough because well preserved, though in the dark, and extremely
pretty in its way,--of the decorated and ornamental school following
Giotto:--I can't guess by whom, nor does it much matter; but it is well
To look at it by way of contrast with the delicate, intense, slightly
decorated design of Memmi,--in which, when you return into the Spanish
chapel, you will feel the dependence for its effect on broad masses of
white and pale amber, where the decorative school would have had mosaic
of red, blue, and gold.
Our first business this morning must be to read and understand the
writing on the book held open by St. Thomas Aquinas, for that informs
us of the meaning of the whole picture.
It is this text from the Book of Wisdom VII. 6.
"Optavi, et datus est mihi sensus.
Invocavi, et venit in me Spiritus Sapientiae,
Et preposui illam regnis et sedibus."
"I willed, and Sense was given me.
I prayed, and the Spirit of Wisdom came upon me.
And I set her before, (preferred her to,) kingdoms
and thrones."
The common translation in our English Apocrypha loses the entire
meaning of this passage, which--not only as the statement of the
experience of Florence in her own education, but as universally
descriptive of the process of all noble education whatever--we had
better take pains to understand.
First, says Florence "I willed, (in sense of resolutely desiring,) and
Sense was given me." You must begin your education with the distinct
resolution to know what is true, and choice of the strait and rough
road to such knowledge. This choice is offered to every youth and maid
at some moment of their life;--choice between the easy downward road,
so broad that we can dance down it in companies, and the steep narrow
way, which we must enter alone. Then, and for many a day afterwards,
they need that form of persistent Option, and Will: but day by day, the
'Sense' of the rightness of what they have done, deepens on them, not
in consequence of the effort, but by gift granted in reward of it. And
the Sense of difference between right and wrong, and between beautiful
and unbeautiful things, is confirmed in the heroic, and fulfilled in
the industrious, soul.
That is the process of education in the earthly sciences, and the
morality connected with them. Reward given to faithful Volition.
Next, when Moral and Physical senses are perfect, comes the desire for
education in the higher world, where the senses are no more our
Teachers; but the Maker of the senses. And that teaching, we cannot get
by labour, but only by petition.
"Invocavi, et venit in me Spiritus Sapientiae"--"I prayed, and the
Spirit of Wisdom," (not, you observe, _was given_, [Footnote: I in
careless error, wrote "was given" in 'Fors Clavigera.] but,)
"_came_ upon me." The _personal_ power of Wisdom: the "[Greek: sophia]"
or Santa Sophia, to whom the first great Christian temple was dedicated.
This higher wisdom, governing by her presence, all earthly conduct, and
by her teaching, all earthly art, Florence tells you, she obtained only
by prayer.
And these two Earthly and Divine sciences are expressed beneath in the
symbols of their divided powers;--Seven terrestrial, Seven celestial,
whose names have been already indicated to you:--in which figures I
must point out one or two technical matters, before touching their
interpretation. They are all by Simon Memmi originally; but repainted,
many of them all over, some hundred years later,--(certainly after the
discovery of America, as you will see)--by an artist of considerable
power, and some feeling for the general action of the figures; but of
no refinement or carelessness. He dashes massive paint in huge spaces
over the subtle old work, puts in his own chiaro-oscuro where all had
been shadeless, and his own violent colour where all had been pale, and
repaints the faces so as to make them, to his notion, prettier and more
human: some of this upper work has, however, come away since, and the
original outline, at least, is traceable; while in the face of the
Logic, the Music, and one or two others, the original work is very
pure. Being most interested myself in the earthly sciences, I had a
scaffolding put up, made on a level with them, and examined them inch
by inch, and the following report will be found accurate until next
repainting.
For interpretation of them, you must always take the central figure of
the Science, with the little medallion above it, and the figure below,
all together. Which I proceed to do, reading first from left to right
for the earthly sciences, and then from right to left the heavenly
ones, to the centre, where their two highest powers sit, side by side.
We begin, then, with the first in the list given above, (Vaulted Book,
page 75):--Grammar, in the corner farthest from the window.
1. GRAMMAR: more properly Grammatice, "Grammatic Act" the Art of
_Letters_ or "Literature," or using the word which to some English
ears will carry most weight with it,--"Scripture," and its use. The Art
of faithfully reading what has been written for our learning; and of
clearly writing what we would make immortal of our thoughts. Power
which consists first in recognizing letters; secondly, in forming them;
thirdly, in the understanding and choice of words which errorless shall
express our thought. Severe exercises all, reaching--very few living
persons know, how far: beginning properly in childhood, then only to be
truly acquired. It is wholly impossible--this I say from too sorrowful
experience--to conquer by any effort or time, habits of the hand (much
more of head and soul) with which the vase of flesh has been formed and
filled in youth,--the law of God being that parents shall compel the
child in the day of its obedience into habits of hand, and eye, and
soul, which, when it is old, shall not, by any strength, or any
weakness, be departed from.
"Enter ye in," therefore, says Grammatice, "at the Strait Gate." She
points through it with her rod, holding a fruit(?) for reward, in her
left hand. The gate is very strait indeed--her own waist no less so,
her hair fastened close. She had once a white veil binding it, which is
lost. Not a gushing form of literature, this,--or in any wise disposed
to subscribe to Mudie's, my English friends--or even patronize Tauchnitz
editions of--what is the last new novel you see ticketed up today in Mr.
Goodban's window? She looks kindly down, nevertheless, to the three
children whom she is teaching--two boys and a girl: (Qy. Does this mean
that one girl out of every two should not be able to read or write? I am
quite willing to accept that inference, for my own part,--should perhaps
even say, two girls out of three). This girl is of the highest classes,
crowned, her golden hair falling behind her the Florentine girdle round
her hips--(not waist, the object being to leave the lungs full play; but
to keep the dress always well down in dancing or running). The boys are
of good birth also, the nearest one with luxuriant curly hair--only the
profile of the farther one seen. All reverent and eager. Above, the
medallion is of a figure looking at a fountain. Underneath, Lord Lindsay
says, Priscian, and is, I doubt not, right.
_Technical Points_.--The figure is said by Crowe to be entirely
repainted. The dress is so throughout--both the hands also, and the
fruit, and rod. But the eyes, mouth, hair above the forehead, and
outline of the rest, with the faded veil, and happily, the traces left
of the children, are genuine; the strait gate perfectly so, in the
colour underneath, though reinforced; and the action of the entire
figure is well preserved: but there is a curious question about both
the rod and fruit. Seen close, the former perfectly assumes the shape
of folds of dress gathered up over the raised right arm, and I am not
absolutely sure that the restorer has not mistaken the folds--at the
same time changing a pen or style into a rod. The fruit also I have
doubts of, as fruit is not so rare at Florence that it should be made a
reward. It is entirely and roughly repainted, and is oval in shape. In
Giotto's Charity, luckily not restored, at Assisi, the guide-books have
always mistaken the heart she holds for an apple:--and my own belief is
that originally, the Grammatice of Simon Memmi made with her right hand
the sign which said, "Enter ye in at the Strait Gate," and with her
left, the sign which said, "My son, give me thine Heart."
II. RHETORIC. Next to learning how to read and write, you are to learn
to speak; and, young ladies and gentlemen, observe,--to speak as little
as possible, it is farther implied, till you _have_ learned.
In the streets of Florence at this day you may hear much of what some
people call "rhetoric"--very passionate speaking indeed, and quite
"from the heart"--such hearts as the people have got. That is to say,
you never hear a word uttered but in a rage, either just ready to
burst, or for the most part, explosive instantly: everybody--man,
woman, or child--roaring out their incontinent, foolish, infinitely
contemptible opinions and wills, on every smallest occasion, with
flashing eyes, hoarsely shrieking and wasted voices,--insane hope to
drag by vociferation whatever they would have, out of man and God.
Now consider Simon Memmi's Rhetoric. The Science of Speaking,
primarily; of making oneself _heard_ therefore: which is not to be
done by shouting. She alone, of all the sciences, carries a scroll: and
being a speaker gives you something to read. It is not thrust forward
at you at all, but held quietly down with her beautiful depressed right
hand; her left hand set coolly and strongly on her side.
And you will find that, thus, she alone of all the sciences _needs no
use of her hands_. All the others have some important business for
them. She none. She can do all with her lips, holding scroll, or
bridle, or what you will, with her right hand, her left on her side.
Again, look at the talkers in the streets of Florence, and see how,
being essentially _un_able to talk, they try to make lips of their
fingers! How they poke, wave, flourish, point, jerk, shake finger and
fist at their antagonists--dumb essentially, all the while, if they
knew it; unpersuasive and ineffectual, as the shaking of tree branches
in the wind.
You will at first think her figure ungainly and stiff. It is so,
partly, the dress being more coarsely repainted than in any other of
the series. But she is meant to be both stout and strong. What she has
to say is indeed to persuade you, if possible; but assuredly to
overpower you. And _she_ has not the Florentine girdle, for she
does not want to move. She has her girdle broad at the waist--of all
the sciences, you would at first have thought, the one that most needed
breath! No, says Simon Memmi. You want breath to run, or dance, or
fight with. But to speak!--If you know _how_, you can do your work
with few words; very little of this pure Florentine air will be enough,
if you shape it rightly.
Note, also, that calm setting of her hand against her side. You think
Rhetoric should be glowing, fervid, impetuous? No, says Simon Memmi.
Above all things,--_cool_.
And now let us read what is written on her scroll:--Mulceo, dum loquor,
varios induta colores.
Her chief function, to melt; make soft, thaw the hearts of men with
kind fire; to overpower with peace; and bring rest, with rainbow
colours. The chief mission of all words that they should be of comfort.
You think the function of words is to excite? Why, a red rag will do
that, or a blast through a brass pipe. But to give calm and gentle
heat; to be as the south wind, and the iridescent rain, to all
bitterness of frost; and bring at once strength, and healing. This is
the work of human lips, taught of God.
One farther and final lesson is given in the medallion above.
Aristotle, and too many modern rhetoricians of his school, thought
there could be good speaking in a false cause. But above Simon Memmi's
Rhetoric is _Truth_, with her mirror.
There is a curious feeling, almost innate in men, that though they are
bound to speak truth, in speaking to a single person, they may lie as
much as they please, provided they lie to two or more people at once.
There is the same feeling about killing: most people would shrink from
shooting one innocent man; but will fire a mitrailleuse contentedly
into an innocent regiment.
When you look down from the figure of the Science, to that of Cicero,
beneath, you will at first think it entirely overthrows my conclusion
that Rhetoric has no need of her hands. For Cicero, it appears, has
three instead of two.
The uppermost, at his chin, is the only genuine one. That raised, with
the finger up, is entirely false. That on the book, is repainted so as
to defy conjecture of its original action.
But observe how the gesture of the true one confirms instead of
overthrowing what I have said above. Cicero is not speaking at all, but
profoundly thinking _before_ he speaks. It is the most abstractedly
thoughtful face to be found among all the philosophers; and very beautiful.
The whole is under Solomon, in the line of Prophets.
_Technical Points_.--These two figures have suffered from
restoration more than any others, but the right hand of Rhetoric is
still entirely genuine, and the left, except the ends of the fingers.
The ear, and hair just above it, are quite safe, the head well set on
its original line, but the crown of leaves rudely retouched, and then
faded. All the lower part of the figure of Cicero has been not only
repainted but changed; the face is genuine--I believe retouched, but so
cautiously and skilfully, that it is probably now more beautiful than
at first.
III. LOGIC. The science of reasoning, or more accurately Reason
herself, or pure intelligence.
Science to be gained after that of Expression, says Simon Memmi; so,
young people, it appears, that though you must not speak before you
have been taught how to speak, you may yet properly speak before you
have been taught how to think.
For indeed, it is only by frank speaking that you _can_ learn how
to think. And it is no matter how wrong the first thoughts you have may
be, provided you express them clearly;--and are willing to have them
put right.
Fortunately, nearly all of this beautiful figure is practically safe,
the outlines pure everywhere, and the face perfect: the
_prettiest_, as far as I know, which exists in Italian art of this
early date. It is subtle to the extreme in gradations of colour: the
eyebrows drawn, not with a sweep of the brush, but with separate cross
touches in the line of their growth--exquisitely pure in arch; the nose
straight and fine; the lips--playful slightly, proud, unerringly cut;
the hair flowing in sequent waves, ordered as if in musical time; head
perfectly upright on the shoulders; the height of the brow completed by
a crimson frontlet set with pearls, surmounted by a _fleur-de-lys_.
Her shoulders were exquisitely drawn, her white jacket fitting close to
soft, yet scarcely rising breasts; her arms singularly strong, at
perfect rest; her hands, exquisitely delicate. In her right, she holds
a branching and leaf-bearing rod, (the syllogism); in her left, a
scorpion with double sting, (the dilemma)--more generally, the powers
of rational construction and dissolution.
Beneath her, Aristotle,--intense keenness of search in his half-closed
eyes.
Medallion above, (less expressive than usual) a man writing, with his
head stooped.
The whole under Isaiah, in the line of Prophets.
_Technical Points_.--The only parts of this figure which have
suffered seriously in repainting are the leaves of the rod, and the
scorpion. I have no idea, as I said above, what the background once
was; it is now a mere mess of scrabbled grey, carried over the
vestiges, still with care much redeemable, of the richly ornamental
extremity of the rod, which was a cluster of green leaves on a black
ground. But the scorpion is indecipherably injured, most of it confused
repainting, mixed with the white of the dress, the double sting
emphatic enough still, but not on the first lines.
The Aristotle is very genuine throughout, except his hat, and I think
that must be pretty nearly on the old lines, through I cannot trace
them. They are good lines, new or old.
IV. MUSIC. After you have learned to reason, young people, of course
you will be very grave, if not dull, you think. No, says Simon Memmi.
By no means anything of the kind. After learning to reason, you will
learn to sing; for you will want to. There is so much reason for
singing in the sweet world, when one thinks rightly of it. None for
grumbling, provided always you _have_ entered in at the strait
gate. You will sing all along the road then, in a little while, in a
manner pleasant for other people to hear.
This figure has been one of the loveliest in the series, an extreme
refinement and tender severity being aimed at throughout. She is
crowned, not with laurel, but with small leaves,--I am not sure what
they are, being too much injured: the face thin, abstracted, wistful;
the lips not far open in their low singing; the hair rippling softly on
the shoulders. She plays on a small organ, richly ornamented with
Gothic tracery, the down slope of it set with crockets like those of
Santa Maria del Fiore. Simon Memmi means that _all_ music must be
"sacred." Not that you are never to sing anything but hymns, but that
whatever is rightly called music, or work of the Muses, is divine in
help and healing.
The actions of both hands are singularly sweet. The right is one of the
loveliest things I ever saw done in painting. She is keeping down one
note only, with her third finger, seen under the raised fourth: the
thumb, just passing under; all the curves of the fingers exquisite, and
the pale light and shade of the rosy flesh relieved against the ivory
white and brown of the notes. Only the thumb and end of the forefinger
are seen of the left hand, but they indicate enough its light pressure
on the bellows. Fortunately, all these portions of the fresco are
absolutely intact.
Underneath, Tubal-Cain. Not Jubal, as you would expect. Jubal is the
inventor of musical instruments. Tubal-Cain, thought the old
Florentines, invented harmony. They, the best smiths in the world, knew
the differences in tones of hammer strokes on anvil. Curiously enough,
the only piece of true part-singing, done beautifully and joyfully,
which I have heard this year in Italy, (being south of Alps exactly six
months, and ranging from Genoa to Palermo) was out of a busy smithy at
Perugia. Of bestial howling, and entirely frantic vomiting up of
hopelessly damned souls through their still carnal throats, I have
heard more than, please God, I will ever endure the hearing of again in
one of His summers.
You think Tubal-Cain very ugly? Yes. Much like a shaggy baboon: not
accidentally, but with most scientific understanding of baboon
character. Men must have looked like that, before they had invented
harmony, or felt that one note differed from another, says, and knows
Simon Memmi. Darwinism, like all widely popular and widely mischievous
fallacies, has many a curious gleam and grain of truth in its tissue.
Under Moses.
Medallion, a youth drinking. Otherwise, you might have thought only
church music meant, and not feast music also.
_Technical Points_.--The Tubal-Cain, one of the most entirely pure
and precious remnants of the old painting, nothing lost: nothing but
the redder ends of his beard retouched. Green dress of Music, in the
body and over limbs entirely repainted: it was once beautifully
embroidered; sleeves, partly genuine, hands perfect, face and hair
nearly so. Leaf crown faded and broken away, but not retouched.
V. ASTRONOMY. Properly Astro-logy, as (Theology) the knowledge of so
much of the stars as we can know wisely; not the attempt to define
their laws for them. Not that it is unbecoming of us to find out, if we
can, that they move in ellipses, and so on; but it is no business of
ours. What effects their rising and setting have on man, and beast, and
leaf; what their times and changes are, seen and felt in this world, it
is our business to know, passing our nights, if wakefully, by that
divine candlelight, and no other.
She wears a dark purple robe; holds in her left hand the hollow globe
with golden zodiac and meridians: lifts her right hand in noble awe.
"When I consider the heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the
stars, which Thou hast ordained."
Crowned with gold, her dark hair in elliptic waves, bound with
glittering chains of pearl. Her eyes dark, lifted.
Beneath her, Zoroaster,[Footnote: Atlas! according to poor Vasari, and
sundry modern guides. I find Vasari's mistakes usually of this
_brightly_ blundering kind. In matters needing research, after a
while, I find _he_ is right, usually.] entirely noble and
beautiful, the delicate Persian head made softer still by the
elaborately wreathed silken hair, twisted into the pointed beard, and
into tapering plaits, falling on his shoulders. The head entirely
thrown back, he looks up with no distortion of the delicately arched
brow: writing, as he gazes.
For the association of the religion of the Magi with their own in the
mind of the Florentines of this time, see "Before the Soldan."
The dress must always have been white, because of its beautiful
opposition to the purple above and that of Tubal-Cain beside it. But it
has been too much repainted to be trusted anywhere, nothing left but a
fold or two in the sleeves. The cast of it from the knees down is
entirely beautiful, and I suppose on the old lines; but the restorer
could throw a fold well when he chose. The warm light which relieves
the purple of Zoroaster above, is laid in by him. I don't know if I
should have liked it better, flat, as it was, against the dark purple;
it seems to me quite beautiful now. The full red flush on the face of
the Astronomy is the restorer's doing also. She was much paler, if not
quite pale.
Under St. Luke.
Medallion, a stern man, with sickle and spade. For the flowers, and for
us, when stars have risen and set such and such times;--remember.
_Technical Points_.--Left hand globe, most of the important folds
of the purple dress, eyes, mouth, hair in great part, and crown,
genuine. Golden tracery on border of dress lost; extremity of falling
folds from left sleeve altered and confused, but the confusion prettily
got out of. Right hand and much of face and body of dress repainted.
Zoroaster's head quite pure. Dress repainted, but carefully, leaving
the hair untouched. Right hand and pen, now a common feathered quill,
entirely repainted, but dexterously and with feeling. The hand was once
slightly different in position, and held, most probably, a reed.
VI. GEOMETRY. You have now learned, young ladies and gentlemen, to
read, to speak, to think, to sing, and to see. You are getting old, and
will have soon to think of being married; you must learn to build your
house, therefore. Here is your carpenter's square for you, and you may
safely and wisely contemplate the ground a little, and the measures and
laws relating to that, seeing you have got to abide upon it:--and that
you have properly looked at the stars; not before then, lest, had you
studied the ground first, you might perchance never have raised your
heads from it. This is properly the science of all laws of practical
labour, issuing in beauty.
She looks down, a little puzzled, greatly interested, holding her
carpenter's square in her left hand, not wanting that but for practical
work; following a diagram with her right.
Her beauty, altogether soft and in curves, I commend to your notice, as
the exact opposite of what a vulgar designer would have imagined for
her. Note the wreath of hair at the back of her head, which though
fastened by a _spiral_ fillet, escapes at last, and flies off
loose in a sweeping curve. Contemplative Theology is the only other of
the sciences who has such wavy hair.
Beneath her, Euclid, in white turban. Very fine and original work
throughout; but nothing of special interest in him.
Under St. Matthew.
Medallion, a soldier with a straight sword (best for science of
defence), octagon shield, helmet like the beehive of Canton Vaud. As
the secondary use of music in feasting, so the secondary use of
geometry in war--her noble art being all in sweetest peace--is shown in
the medallion.
_Technical Points_.--It is more than fortunate that in nearly
every figure, the original outline of the hair is safe. Geometry's has
scarcely been retouched at all, except at the ends, once in single
knots, now in confused double ones. The hands, girdle, most of her
dress, and her black carpenter's square are original. Face and breast
repainted.
VII. ARITHMETIC. Having built your house, young people, and
understanding the light of heaven, and the measures of earth, you may
marry--and can't do better. And here is now your conclusive science,
which you will have to apply, all your days, to all your affairs.
The Science of Number. Infinite in solemnity of use in Italy at this
time; including, of course, whatever was known of the higher abstract
mathematics and mysteries of numbers, but reverenced especially in its
vital necessity to the prosperity of families and kingdoms, and first
fully so understood here in commercial Florence.
Her hand lifted, with two fingers bent, two straight, solemnly
enforcing on your attention her primal law--Two and two are--four, you
observe,--not five, as those accursed usurers think.
Under her, Pythagoras.
Above, medallion of king, with sceptre and globe, counting money. Have
you ever chanced to read carefully Carlyle's account of the foundation
of the existing Prussian empire, in economy?
You can, at all events, consider with yourself a little, what empire
this queen of the terrestrial sciences must hold over the rest, if they
are to be put to good use; or what depth and breadth of application
there is in the brief parables of the counted cost of Power, and number
of Armies.
To give a very minor, but characteristic, instance. I have always felt
that with my intense love of the Alps, I ought to have been able to
make a drawing of Chamouni, or the vale of Cluse, which should give
people more pleasure than a photograph; but I always wanted to do it as
I saw it, and engrave pine for pine, and crag for crag, like Albert
Durer. I broke my strength down for many a year, always tiring of my
work, or finding the leaves drop off, or the snow come on, before I had
well begun what I meant to do. If I had only _counted_ my pines
first, and calculated the number of hours necessary to do them in the
manner of Durer, I should have saved the available drawing time of some
five years, spent in vain effort.
But Turner counted his pines, and did all that could be done for them,
and rested content with that.
So in all the affairs of life, the arithmetical part of the business is
the dominant one. How many and how much have we? How many and how much
do we want? How constantly does noble Arithmetic of the finite lose
itself in base Avarice of the Infinite, and in blind imagination of it!
In counting of minutes, is our arithmetic ever solicitous enough? In
counting our days, is she ever severe enough? How we shrink from
putting, in their decades, the diminished store of them! And if we ever
pray the solemn prayer that we may be taught to number them, do we even
try to do it after praying?
_Technical Points_.--The Pythagoras almost entirely genuine. The
upper figures, from this inclusive to the outer wall, I have not been
able to examine thoroughly, my scaffolding not extending beyond the
Geometry.
Here then we have the sum of sciences,--seven, according to the
Florentine mind--necessary to the secular education of man and woman.
Of these the modern average respectable English gentleman and
gentlewoman know usually only a little of the last, and entirely hate
the prudent applications of that: being unacquainted, except as they
chance here and there to pick up a broken piece of information, with
either grammar, rhetoric, music, [Footnote: Being able to play the
piano and admire Mendelssohn is not knowing music.] astronomy, or
geometry; and are not only unacquainted with logic, or the use of
reason, themselves, but instinctively antagonistic to its use by
anybody else.
We are now to read the series of the Divine sciences, beginning at the
opposite side, next the window.
VIII. CIVIL LAW. Civil, or 'of citizens,' not only as distinguished
from Ecclesiastical, but from Local law. She is the universal Justice
of the peaceful relations of men throughout the world, therefore holds
the globe, with its _three_ quarters, white, as being justly
governed, in her left hand.
She is also the law of eternal equity, not erring statute; therefore
holds her sword _level_ across her breast. She is the foundation
of all other divine science. To know anything whatever about God, you
must begin by being Just.
Dressed in red, which in these frescoes is always a sign of power, or
zeal; but her face very calm, gentle and beautiful. Her hair bound
close, and crowned by the royal circlet of gold, with pure thirteenth
century strawberry leaf ornament.
Under her, the Emperor Justinian, in blue, with conical mitre of white
and gold; the face in profile, very beautiful. The imperial staff in
his right hand, the Institutes in his left.
Medallion, a figure, apparently in distress, appealing for justice.
(Trajan's suppliant widow?)
_Technical Points_.--The three divisions of the globe in her hand
were originally inscribed ASIA, AFRICA, EUROPE. The restorer has
ingeniously changed AF into AME--RICA. Faces, both of the science and
emperor, little retouched, nor any of the rest altered.
IX. CHRISTIAN LAW. After the justice which rules men, comes that which
rules the Church of Christ. The distinction is not between secular law,
and ecclesiastical authority, but between the equity of humanity, and
the law of Christian discipline.
In full, straight-falling, golden robe, with white mantle over it; a
church in her left hand; her right raised, with the forefinger lifted;
(indicating heavenly source of all Christian law? or warning?)
Head-dress, a white veil floating into folds in the air. You will find
nothing in these frescoes without significance; and as the escaping
hair of Geometry indicates the infinite conditions of lines of the
higher orders, so the floating veil here indicates that the higher
relations of Christian justice are indefinable. So her golden mantle
indicates that it is a glorious and excellent justice beyond that which
unchristian men conceive; while the severely falling lines of the
folds, which form a kind of gabled niche for the head of the Pope
beneath, correspond with the strictness of true Church discipline
firmer as well as more luminous statute.
Beneath, Pope Clement V., in red, lifting his hand, not in the position
of benediction, but, I suppose, of injunction,--only the forefinger
straight, the second a little bent, the two last quite. Note the strict
level of the book; and the vertical directness of the key.
The medallion puzzles me. It looks like a figure counting money.
_Technical Points_.--Fairly well preserved; but the face of the
science retouched: the grotesquely false perspective of the Pope's
tiara, one of the most curiously naive examples of the entirely
ignorant feeling after merely scientific truth of form which still
characterized Italian art.
Type of church interesting in its extreme simplicity; no idea of
transept, campanile, or dome.
X. PRACTICAL THEOLOGY. The beginning of the knowledge of God being
Human Justice, and its elements defined by Christian Law, the
application of the law so defined follows, first with respect to man,
then with respect to God.
"Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's--and to God the things
that are God's."
We have therefore now two sciences, one of our duty--to men, the other
to their Maker.
This is the first: duty to men. She holds a circular medallion,
representing Christ preaching on the Mount, and points with her right
hand to the earth.
The sermon on the Mount is perfectly expressed by the craggy pinnacle
in front of Christ, and the high dark horizon. There is curious
evidence throughout all these frescos of Simon Memmi's having read the
Gospels with a quite clear understanding of their innermost meaning.
I have called this science Practical Theology:--the instructive
knowledge, that is to say, of what God would have us do, personally, in
any given human relation: and the speaking His Gospel therefore by act.
"Let your light so shine before men."
She wears a green dress, like Music her hair in the Arabian arch, with
jewelled diadem.
Under David.
Medallion, Almsgiving.
Beneath her, Peter Lombard,
_Technical Points_.--It is curious that while the instinct of
perspective was not strong enough to enable any painter at this time to
foreshorten a foot, it yet suggested to them the expression of
elevation by raising the horizon.
I have not examined the retouching. The hair and diadem at least are
genuine, the face is dignified and compassionate, and much on the old
lines.
XI. DEVOTIONAL THEOLOGY.--Giving glory to God, or, more accurately,
whatever feelings He desires us to have towards Him, whether of
affection or awe.
This is the science or method of _devotion_ for Christians
universally, just as the Practical Theology is their science or method
of _action_.
In blue and red: a narrow black rod still traceable in the left hand; I
am not sure of its meaning. ("Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me?")
The other hand open in admiration, like Astronomy's; but Devotion's is
held at her breast. Her head very characteristic of Memmi, with
upturned eyes, and Arab arch in hair. Under her, Dionysius the
Areopagite--mending his pen! But I am doubtful of Lord Lindsay's
identification of this figure, and the action is curiously common and
meaningless. It may have meant that meditative theology is essentially
a writer, not a preacher.
The medallion, on the other hand, is as ingenious. A mother lifting her
hands in delight at her child's beginning to take notice.
Under St. Paul.
_Technical Points_.--Both figures very genuine, the lower one
almost entirely so. The painting of the red book is quite exemplary in
fresco style.
XII. DOGMATIC THEOLOGY.--After action and worship, thought becoming too
wide and difficult, the need of dogma becomes felt; the assertion, that
is, within limited range, of the things that are to be believed.
Since whatever pride and folly pollute Christian scholarship naturally
delight in dogma, the science itself cannot but be in a kind of
disgrace among sensible men: nevertheless it would be difficult to
overvalue the peace and security which have been given to humble
persons by forms of creed; and it is evident that either there is no
such thing as theology, or some of its knowledge must be thus, if not
expressible, at least reducible within certain limits of expression, so
as to be protected from misinterpretation.
In red,--again the sign of power,--crowned with a black (once golden?)
triple crown, emblematic of the Trinity. The left hand holding a scoop
for winnowing corn; the other points upwards. "Prove all things--hold
fast that which is good, or of God."
Beneath her, Boethius.
Under St. Mark.
Medallion, female figure, laying hands on breast.
_Technical Points_.--The Boethius entirely genuine, and the
painting of his black book, as of the red one beside it, again worth
notice, showing how pleasant and interesting the commonest things
become, when well painted.
I have not examined the upper figure.
XIII. MYSTIC THEOLOGY. [Footnote: Blunderingly in the guide-books
called 'Faith!'] Monastic science, above dogma, and attaining to new
revelation by reaching higher spiritual states.
In white robes, her left hand gloved (I don't know why)--holding
chalice. She wears a nun's veil fastened under her chin, her hair
fastened close, like Grammar's, showing her necessary monastic life;
all states of mystic spiritual life involving retreat from much that is
allowable in the material and practical world.
There is no possibility of denying this fact, infinite as the evils are
which have arisen from misuse of it. They have been chiefly induced by
persons who falsely pretended to lead monastic life, and led it without
having natural faculty for it. But many more lamentable errors have
arisen from the pride of really noble persons, who have thought it
would be a more pleasing thing to God to be a sibyl or a witch, than a
useful housewife. Pride is always somewhat involved even in the true
effort: the scarlet head-dress in the form of a horn on the forehead in
the fresco indicates this, both here, and in the Contemplative
Theology.
Under St. John.
Medallion unintelligible, to me. A woman laying hands on the shoulders
of two small figures.
_Technical Points_.--More of the minute folds of the white dress
left than in any other of the repainted draperies. It is curious that
minute division has always in drapery, more or less, been understood as
an expression of spiritual life, from the delicate folds of Athena's
peplus down to the rippled edges of modern priests' white robes;
Titian's breadth of fold, on the other hand, meaning for the most part
bodily power. The relation of the two modes of composition was lost by
Michael Angelo, who thought to express spirit by making flesh colossal.
For the rest, the figure is not of any interest, Memmi's own mind being
intellectual rather than mystic.
XIV. POLEMIC THEOLOGY.[Footnote: Blunderingly called 'Charity' in the
guide-books.]
"Who goes forth, conquering and to conquer?" "For we war, not with
flesh and blood," etc.
In red, as sign of power, but not in armour, because she is herself
invulnerable. A close red cap, with cross for crest, instead of helmet.
Bow in left hand; long arrow in right.
She partly means Aggressive Logic: compare the set of her shoulders and
arms with Logic's.
She is placed the last of the Divine sciences, not as their culminating
power, but as the last which can be rightly learned. You must know all
the others, before you go out to battle. Whereas the general principle
of modern Christendom is to go out to battle without knowing _any
one_ of the others; one of the reasons for this error, the prince of
errors, being the vulgar notion that truth may be ascertained by
debate! Truth is never learned, in any department of industry, by
arguing, but by working, and observing. And when you have got good hold
of one truth, for certain, two others will grow out of it, in a
beautifully dicotyledonous fashion, (which, as before noticed, is the
meaning of the branch in Logic's right hand). Then, when you have got
so much true knowledge as is worth fighting for, you are bound to fight
for it. But not to debate about it, any more.
There is, however, one further reason for Polemic Theology being put
beside Mystic. It is only in some approach to mystic science that any
man becomes aware of what St. Paul means by "spiritual wickedness in
heavenly [Footnote: With cowardly intentional fallacy, translated
'high' in the English Bible.] places;" or, in any true sense, knows the
enemies of God and of man.
Beneath St. Augustine. Showing you the proper method of controversy;
--perfectly firm; perfectly gentle.
You are to distinguish, of course, controversy from rebuke. The
assertion of truth is to be always gentle: the chastisement of wilful
falsehood may be--very much the contrary indeed. Christ's sermon on the
Mount is full of polemic theology, yet perfectly gentle:--"Ye have
heard that it hath been said--but _I_/ say unto you";--"And if ye
salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others?" and the like.
But His "Ye fools and blind, for whether is greater," is not merely the
exposure of error, but rebuke of the avarice which made that error
possible.
Under the throne of St. Thomas; and next to Arithmetic, of the
terrestrial sciences.
Medallion, a soldier, but not interesting.
Technical Points.--Very genuine and beautiful throughout. Note the use
of St. Augustine's red bands, to connect him with the full red of the
upper figures; and compare the niche formed by the dress of Canon Law,
above the Pope, for different artistic methods of attaining the same
object,--unity of composition.
But lunch time is near, my friends, and you have that shopping to do,
you know.
Content of THE FIFTH MORNING. THE STRAIT GATE. [John Ruskin's book: Mornings in Florence]
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