wing, another above, gathers him up into a knot, puts two or three of his claws well into his back, and wrinkling all the flesh up from the wound, flattens him down against the ground, and so lets him do what he likes. The dragon tries to bite him, but he can only bring his head round far enough to get hold of his own wing, which he bites in agony instead." All this, he observes, the Lombard workman did not do, "because he had thought it out. . . . He simply saw the beast, saw it as plainly as you see the writing on this page, and of course could not be wrong in anything he told us of it.” 1

15. The representation of the purely imaginative is subject exactly to the same kind of interpretation and criticism as the representation of the seen and the familiar. This is one of the happiest and most convincing pieces of expository art criticism that I have ever fallen in with, and it goes far, I think, to establish the principle for which Ruskin contends, and for which, by independent conviction, I also contend-namely, that the representation of the purely imaginative is subject to exactly the same kind of interpretation and criticism as the representation of the seen and the familiar. True imagination visualises its objects in an organic, vital, and credible form. The work of pure imagination must convince us that the author or the artist "saw the beast," or whatever it was, in the clear field of his imaginative vision. It must be actual, organic, living, convincing, like the Lombard griffin; not tape-measured, elongated here and shortened there,

1 'Modern Painters,' Vol. iii. pp. 109-113. "Every result of real imagination is a truth of some sort; and it is the characteristic of truth to be in some way tangible, seizable, distinguishable, and clear, as it is of falsehood to be obscure, confused, and confusing."-Ib., note, p. 200.

and put together by line and rule in the manner of the Renaissance griffin. In a word, the creative or imaginative fitness of a work may be thus tested: Does it appear, like the works of the Natural Creation, to fulfil its purpose? Is it imaginatively alive, healthy, and active in all its functions? If so, then such a work also may be taken to be true to Nature.

16. The Minotaur of Mr Watts a failure.Tried by such a test I should say that the Minotaur of Mr Watts in the Tate Gallery is a failure. I doubt if there is any truly imaginative or creative power in that picture. It seems to be but a wellpainted bull's head planted on human shouldersthat it is nothing more than a physical combination of the bovine with the human-that it carries no suggestion of a devouring monster which, to encounter, would strain the courage of a Theseus, and wholly fails to produce any impression of the terrible; and just as, according to Mr Ruskin, the Renaissance sculptor never saw a griffin in his imagination, so I think we may affirm that Mr Watts never had an authentic vision of the Minotaur. I should say that it is entirely lacking in imaginative bona fides, and in no wise helps us to visualise the Cretan monster.1

17. Dante's image of Fraud-a success.-As an example of good imaginative description, glance at Dante's image of Fraud:

"Forthwith that image of vile Fraud appeared,
His head and upper part exposed on land,
But laid not on the shore his bestial train.
His face the semblance of a just man's wore,
So kind and gracious was its outward cheer;
The rest was serpent all."

1 "I have never seen statues of Jove, Neptune, Apollo, or any of the Heathen Gods that are not as great failures as the statues of Christ and the Apostles."--Samuel Butler, 'Notebooks,' p. 137. 'Hell,' canto xvii.

Here we are given an opportunity of perceiving by the mind something which we have no chance of perceiving by the senses-an image, moreover, which helps to intensify our conception of the foulness of the fraudulent spirit. For the present let me just mention Coleridge's 'Ancient Mariner,' which seems to answer some of the tests. It is a work of imagination most vital, pure, and beautiful. Such a work as Arnold's' Forsaken Merman is not so convincing. It creates a situation that is essentially unthinkable; but forget the initial incredibility of the story, and it becomes charming. On the other hand, such a work as the 'Alastor of Shelley-in the name of the Prophet what did he wish us to understand by it? It is an excellent example of the pseudo-imaginative. Intelligence should control imagination, not imagination intelligence. For the present I do but mention these cases as indicating the nature of imaginative work. I hope to deal with the subject more fully at a later stage.1

18. Pure allegory, also, can only be effective in so far as it accords with the principle of being true to Nature. So essential to great literary or other art is the principle of truth to Nature that pure allegory, even, can only be effective in so far as it accords with this principle. The real epic and the real drama demand truth to Nature both in plot and character, and out of such elements the interest of the story must grow as the flower from the stalk, as the leaf from the stem: in other words, the interest or the lesson grows out of the life depicted. In allegory, on the other hand, the natural process is reversed, the lesson is pre

1 I had collected and developed much material for this purpose, but it was all accidentally destroyed by fire in 1919. Many poets fall into the error of giving imagination unbridled play. If imagination be not controlled by intelligence, it is almost certain to dash off into absurdity.

conceived; and it is required that plot, character, and dénouement shall harmonise with it.

66

far as the author of an allegory achieves such a harmony, he may be said to be successful. Hence the success of, say, 'The Pilgrim's Progress.' Macaulay truly remarks that the mind of Bunyan was so imaginative that the personifications with which he dealt became men"1: therefore, the vitality and the unfailing interest of his great allegory. Speaking of the allegorical instinct which lay deep in the heart of the Middle Ages, Mr Boas observes that "Abstractions like Folly, Abominable Living, or Hypocrisy only became dramatically effective in proportion as they ceased to be allegorical symbols, and took the concrete shape of typical representations of the type in question." 2 The observation is just. Allegory is effective in proportion to its vitality-that is to say, the naturalness of the forms in which it personifies and clothes its actors, and according to the organic feasibility and suggestiveness of the story which it tells or the scene which it describes in a word, according to its imaginative authenticity. Thus, for example, in the old allegory of Reynard the Fox, and in Henryson's rendering of Æsop,' the characteristics of the various animals are so well depicted, so graphically visualised and individualised, and their proceedings are recorded in so sprightly and realistic a manner, that they engage our interest and excite our sympathies and antipathies as keenly as the characters of a well-written tale.

1 On the other hand, 'The Holy War made by Shaddai upon Diabolus for the Regaining of the Metropolis of the World: or, the Losing and Taking again of the Town of Mansoul,' is uninspired, artificial, and heavy.

2 Shakespeare and his Predecessors,' p. 15. See Appendix, Note B.

161

CHAPTER VII.

THE INSTRUCTIVE ELEMENT IN LITERATURE.

1. It must be the greatest privilege and the chief glory of the greatest genius to teach the greatest truths and inspire the highest life.-The opinion is widely held, I am afraid, that Literature has little to do with mental and moral training, and that its chief object should be to amuse. Thus, for instance, Dugald Stewart: "The primary and the distinguishing aim of the poet is to please 1; and amongst later writers Mr Frewen Lord contends that the Novel is only for amusement.2 I do not agree with such opinions, the prevalence of which, it is scarcely to be doubted, may be held to account for the existence of an immense number of frivolous books. That Literature should yield the highest pleasure, no sensible person will deny; but if at the same time it can be made "profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness," and for esthetic delight as well as mere amusement, so much the better for us all. It must be the greatest privilege and the chief glory of the greatest genius to teach the greatest truths and inspire the highest life. This latter opinion-namely, that Literature should be as instructive and inspiring as possible whilst it

1 'Collected Works,' Vol. ii. p. 442.

2 'Nineteenth Century,' March 1903.

L