XXIV 



RISE AND PROGRESS 



era: w> anxiously did Uiey look and listen, that 

 when the first preacher of the Scriptures to the 

 Irish struck unwittingly the iron-shod end of his 

 crosier through the foot of one of the princes, 

 Ike latter bore the pain with fortitude, from a 

 belief that it was a sample of the truths which 

 the other came to teach. We must not, however, 

 imagine, that the paintings and carvings which 

 the preachers carried about with them then, in 

 the same way as n divine of our latter days bears 

 his manuscript sermons, were works worthy of 

 either science or art. They are, in fact, believed 

 to hare been coarse and rude in execution, with 

 nothing of the genius of heathen Greece visible 

 in them ; and it is, moreover, very possible that 

 they were the works of the missionaries. What 

 renders this surmise probable is the fact, that in 

 the palmier days of the Christian church those 

 magnificent abbeys, the wonder and the envy of 

 living architects, were chiefly imagined and de- 

 signed by prelates, who did not think it beneath 

 them to apply their talents in creations of use- 

 fulness and elegance. From whatever source 

 those drawings and carvings came, there can be 

 no doubt of their usefulness ; they did the duty 

 of history and eloquence. 



As the Christian religion spread and prevailed, 

 arts and letters were diffused ; modified, how- 

 ever, by belief and tradition. The fine arts no 

 longer spoke with a Greek or a Latin tongue ; 

 they pleaded the cause of Christ, of mercy, 

 humility, and humanity ; and as they addressed 

 a people who had no sympathy with aught that 

 heathen elegance had produced, they prevailed 

 almost universally. It is true that, in some 

 parts of Asia, as well as portions of Europe, the 

 new aim which Christianity desired to give to 

 the arts had to contend with the old aim given 

 by Pagan genius, of which the impulse long 

 continued. For centuries, science and skill, as 

 well as old associations, were all in favour of 

 the gods of Olympus ; the religion which those 

 marvellous works embodied was a visible and a 

 sensual one. The days of divinities and oracles 

 were remembered by scenes of festivity and 

 mirth, by processions, and sacrifices, and feasts ; 

 and the people were reluctant to relinquish the 

 present enjoyments of the earth for the bright 

 reversions of paradise. Their cry was, " Great 

 ia the Diana of the Ephesians !" They could 

 see, but they could not imagine ; and were 

 unable to comprehend the nature of that bliss 

 which was not of this world. The divine power 

 of the gospel prevailed, aided by the simple 

 manners and fervent eloquence of the preachers. 



For several centuries, however, art and letters 

 had to contend for existence ; not with the monks 



and hermit-i, as has been asserted, but with that 

 love of blood and conquest which, like a demon, 

 possessed all the successive hordes of barbarians 

 who issued from the " frozen loins of the north." 

 No doubt the moults and earlier saints looked 

 coldly upon classic writings, as well as upon 

 classic art, because the heathen had their trust 

 in them, and hoped, through the ancient poets, 

 philosophers, painters, and sculptors, to recover 

 their dominion over the minds of mankind. In 

 preaching against Homer, or Plato, or Apelles, 

 they did not scorn their genius ; they desired but 

 to teach their flocks that salvation did not reside 

 in their works, and that, if they desired to be 

 happy hereafter, they must turn to the gospel of 

 God from false religion and vain philosophy. 

 With the church, therefore, science and letters 

 found an asylum. Kings and chieftains looked on 

 literature as a thing effeminate, and rejoiced that 

 they could neither read nor write. When abroad, 

 they confined their attention to war and the 

 chase ; and on their return, their domestic plea- 

 sures were the wine-cup and the legend. From 

 this mental darkness and confusion light and 

 order at last dawned, and came forth ; but the 

 light was not that which shone in Greece of old, 

 nor was the order according to the taste of 

 antiquity. 



All was changed ; new nations, as well as new 

 rulers, were become lords of the earth ; the 

 spirit of the north refused to work according to 

 the compass and square of the south, and ima- 

 gined and created an architecture, sculpture, 

 and painting altogether its own. The temples 

 of Greece and Rome, with all their gods and 

 goddesses, were forgotten, and new temples, 

 distinguished for their picturesque splendour and 

 geometrical unity, were raised, to which painting 

 and sculpture were, as they had been in Egypt, 

 auxiliary and subordinate. This is the architec- 

 ture designated Gothic which the ingenuity of 

 the learned has traced to the buildings of Greece 

 which the imaginations of the poetic have dis- 

 covered in the wattled wigwams of our ancestors 

 but which may safely be pronounced new and 

 original, since all its forms, combinations, and 

 ornaments belong to itself alone. How the 

 simple beauty of the Greek architecture could 

 grow into the melancholy magnificence of the 

 Gothic ; how it could change its character, upset 

 all its combinations ; how the temple of Saturn 

 could become the cathedral of Salisbury, I must 

 desire those to explain who are ingenious in 

 discovering resemblances which do not exist, 

 and who can see the finished statue in the un- 

 quarried block, and a noble poem in a printer's 

 type-box ! 



