Do not leave me cast away.”
I have little space, as now too often, for any definite school work. My writing-lesson, this month, is a facsimile of the last words written by Nelson; in his cabin, with the allied fleets in sight, off Trafalgar. It is entirely fine in general structure and character.
Mr. Ward has now three, and will I hope soon have the fourth, of our series of lesson photographs, namely,—
- 1. Madonna by Filippo Lippi.
- 2. The Etruscan Leucothea.
- 3. Madonna by Titian.
- 4. Infanta Margaret, by Velasquez.
On these I shall lecture, as I have time, here and in the ‘Laws of Fésole;’ but, in preparation for all farther study, when you have got the four, put them beside each other, putting the Leucothea first, the Lippi second, and the others as numbered. [[187]]
Then, the first, the Leucothea, is entirely noble religious art, of the fifth or sixth century B.C., full of various meaning and mystery, of knowledges that are lost, feelings that have ceased, myths and symbols of the laws of life, only to be traced by those who know much both of life and death.
Technically, it is still in Egyptian bondage, but in course of swiftly progressive redemption.
The second is nobly religious work of the fifteenth century of Christ,—an example of the most perfect unison of religious myth with faithful realism of human nature yet produced in this world. The Etruscan traditions are preserved in it even to the tassels of the throne cushion: the pattern of these, and of the folds at the edge of the angel’s drapery, may be seen in the Etruscan tomb now central in the first compartment of the Egyptian gallery of the British Museum and the double cushion of that tomb is used, with absolute obedience to his tradition, by Jacopo della Quercia, in the tomb of Ilaria di Caretto.
The third represents the last phase of the noble religious art of the world, in which realization has become consummate; but all supernatural aspect is refused, and mythic teaching is given only in obedience to former tradition, but with no anxiety for its acceptance. Here is, for certain, a sweet Venetian peasant, with her child, and fruit from the market-boats of Mestre. The Ecce Agnus, topsy-turvy on the [[188]]finely perspectived scroll, may be deciphered by whoso list.