that for comparatively a limited time. And if it can never be used to advantage in the utilitarian sense of this work-day world, it may at least serve to make us love beauty, and from the love of it to its possession is not a very wide step. I look back upon the past, and see the glorious martyrs of Art shutting themselves out from the world, that they might, in the quiet communion of their own studios, feel more deeply the spirit of holiness resting around them. I behold their works, and wonder not, for I feel that God was there. I love Beauty and admire the worshippers at her shrine, because I feel that the beautiful is of God, and that we can only fully appreciate it when we commune with Him, when the world is for the time shut out, and the spirit takes possession within. I may not accomplish what they did, but I have learned to believe that beauty permeates the whole universe, is present everywhere, in nature and in art, in the recesses of the solemn forest and the silent glen; looks forth from the gorgeous flowers of the south, and beams from the lowly weeds of the north; in ocean's roar and in the rippling brook; in the sacred music of the cathedral worship, in the merry laugh of childhood, in the homes of the nobly great and of the honest poor; in the study and the field, above, below, around, and in us; it is God's free gift to all His creatures it is a talent lent, of which strict account will be required. It is often slighted, because common, when it should be prized for the self-same reason. That the love of Art is universal, is apparent in every household in the land; the poor picture, the broken vase, the roadside grasses, the summer flowers, all attest its truth — and where shall we not find these? In the hut of the Indian, in the palace of the king, and in every place between, shall we find some display of taste, some mark of beauty, some silent tribute to its power. Then, is not this a reason for its culture? But it is only ornamental! So are flowers; and yet, who loves them not, who does not delight to see them grace his table, be he high or low? Who loves not bright gems? But they are ornamental too. Their beauty and purity is their recommendation. Who despises modesty and virtue? None. They are looked upon as the brightest ornaments that grace the human kind. And so we might enumerate much that is ornamental, and by its being so, prove its utility. Art is to Education what flowers are to a field; it garnishes and relieves it—it gladdens and beautifies at the same time. And in this age of utilitarianism, when there is so much danger of making labor not worship, but the worshipped,—not the prayer, but the God! anything that is likely to counteract such a tendency should not be neglected, and the general study of Drawing would in some degree aid in the development of ideality and mind, instead of mammon and utility. To each teacher before me I would say: If you cannot use it yourself, at least encourage it in your pupils; and should you find among their number any who display great aptness for it, show them that it must not be studied in isolation, or be used for impure purposes. If they incline to the grotesque or brutal, endeavor to direct to a higher purpose and a holier aim; if they love nature, encourage them to imitate her, but never allow them to outrage the works of their Creator without correction. Do not puff them with the idea that genius can accomplish everything, but let them see that genius is a power, a gift of Divinity; but it must be combined with something else to render it what it should be, useful to themselves and mankind. Let them pursue without profaning; point out a purpose at which to aim, and let it be steadily followed, keeping within the bound sand "never o'erstepping the modesty of Nature." So shall its culture mingle with the great stream of intellectual progress, adding to it, as the rivulet adds to the "mighty father of waters," not muddying the stream, but by its clearness purifying that that was already pure; not exalting any part over the other, but combining all in one harmonious whole, rendering the education of our youth what it should ever be, ennobling in its tendency and effect. In conclusion, I shall quote the words of one of America's poets, who has taken a lofty view of this matter. ODE ON ART. BY CHARLES SPRAGUE. When from the sacred garden driven, An angel left her place in heaven, And crossed the wanderer's sunless path. |