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grown obsolete and strange. But this is not all: in thus attempting to make art the mere illustrator of science, we shall in the first place violate the inherent organic conditions of art; and then, as sole reward, give it, in exchange for the stability and imperishableness of artistic form, the fluctuating, changing impersonality of scientific fact. For, with regard to the nature of art itself, we must remember, or understand, what daily observation ought long since to have impressed upon us, that there is as complete an organic necessity in the sequence of style upon style and form upon form as there is in the sequence of the seasons of the year and their respective products, or in the growth of the child into the youth and the youth into the man; and that thus all spontaneous, really vital and valuable art must always present a certain homogeneousness of form and character, a certain limitation in its capacities, which prevents the adoption of the forms and characters of another time or another place for art, to be good, or rather when art is good-that is to say, when art is vital-men can imagine, write, paint, only the things which they see and feel, men can work only in the style which belongs to their race and to their generation: to ask, therefore, for a correct expression or imitation of feelings, fancies, or forms of other races and other generations, is simply to demand what no art in its vital condition, in its condition of really valuable function, can by any possibility give. And could living art thus become the scientific reproducer of efforts, feelings, and forms, could any art worthy of the name exchange its own powers of satisfying our merely aesthetic wants, for the power of bringing home to us some scientific fact, some conception of distant or long-ended things, could it do this, what would be its reward? We have spoken of the stability and imperishableness of artistic form as contrasted with the fluctuating, changing impersonality of scientific fact: this phrase may have seemed to some an impertinence, to others an absurdity. Yet if we look into matters, we shall have to confess the truth (a bitter truth to the mere critic) that no purely scientific works can ever live, that no purely scientific book can ever continue to be read, that only artistic excellence endures.

For the man of science, be he naturalist or ethnologist or metaphysician, gives only a certain number of new facts, or a certain magnitude of new system; his successor inherits those facts and that system-increases the one, enlarges the other; so that the second comer is always richer and more valuable than the first, and the third than the second. The most valuable scientific book is necessarily the most recent, because it contains all the truth contained in its predecessors, and more, and also less error. The books of the very greatest scientific minds of the past are now read only by specialists studying the development of some particular science or idea. Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, Newton gravitation, Smith the relations between price and supply and demand. Nothing can diminish their glory for having discovered No. 631 (NO. CLI. N. s.)


those facts, but those facts no longer belong exclusively to them: they have been developed, corrected by others, and can be found elsewhere than in their books, and found more complete than in them. We venerate these men, but we do not read their books. If we want to know about gravitation, or about supply and demand, we turn, not to the Principia' or to the 'Wealth of Nations,' but to the most recent text-book of physics or political economy by some living mediocrity. The same fate awaits Helmholtz, Darwin, Spencer, Huxley, all the discoverers of facts or laws. We all talk of Descartes, yet how wretchedly poor does not his great book appear to us! mere truisms which we knew before we were born. The same applies to Horace, to Montesquieu, to all those who have revolutionised thought. The man who made the very first plough was certainly one of the most ingenious of mortals, yet who would care to use such an instrument? and who would care to employ Stephenson's first railway engine, or Jacquard's first loom? Yet their makers were men of genius, while the makers of the latest, most desirable improvements in engines and looms may be mere craftsmen. Now the case is immediately changed as soon as the place of the relative elements, truth and usefulness, is taken by the positive element beauty. For a truth is assimilated and grows, an invention is assimilated and grows; but a work of art, when once beauty has been attained, does not grow. You may repeat and re-repeat and alter and re-alter it; you may destroy it, but you cannot develop it: its value is positive; time passes, and it is as delightful to the man of the nineteenth century as it was to the man of the fifth century before Christ. If you would benefit by what was done by Homer, by Shakespeare, by Phidias, Michael Angelo, or Mozart, you must have recourse to themselves. No addition can be made to their works; and it is noteworthy that the only books which are permanently reprinted are books of mere belles-lettres, which may be four thousand years old; the only objects which are constantly being copied, without attempt at alteration, are not useful mechanisms, but works of art. You may take a plaster cast of a statue of the time of Pericles; but who would care to have an exact fac-simile of a revolver made twenty years ago? If scientific works continue to be read, it is because the element of eternity, the element of beauty, has entered into them; the scientific ideas may be old, but the artistic forms are not. We may know more of philosophy than Plato, or Bacon, or Pascal, but we have not got the power of writing as they did. And if any modern historian or philosopher be read two hundred years hence, it will be not as a man of science, but as an artist. solation this, and a great one, for nowadays much of what artistic instinct yet remains is taking refuge in critical writing. Our men of thought and research, Ruskin, Michelet, Carlyle, will be known as great artists to future generations, which will have let the memory of many of our artists die out as that of mere obsolete and mistaken men of science.

A con

We have wandered a good way from our original starting-point, and some of you may ask, What has all this to do with Raphael's Apollo ? We started with asking ourselves how it came about that a learned man like Raphael, an artist above all his contemporaries, studious, thoughtful, nay, archæological, should have deliberately committed the anachronism of placing a fiddle in the hands of Apollo. We found that, in so doing, Raphael had merely followed the habit of his time, which considered artistic representation in a manner quite different from ours. And, proceeding to examine our own manner of viewing art by its functions, we found that, on the whole, the old way, which at first seemed to us so childish, illogical, and far-fetched, was simpler, more natural, and more efficacious than our own; that perhaps the illogical men of the Renaissance had more sense of artistic logic, of the logic of keeping everything to its right place and work, than we have; and that there is more anomaly in painting archæological pictures, writing historical tragedies, and composing geographical operas, than there was in showing Apollo among the Muses and poets, fiddling away on the summit of Parnassus.




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HE subject of this article is to be that of 'Juggernaut ;' but as that form of writing the word is now obsolete, it would scarcely do as a title; and the newer form of Jagannatha' is so different, and as yet so little known, few would have recognised in it the name of the celebrated deification which has been so long notorious. Owing to some peculiarity in the articulating organs there is a doubt as to how a number of Hindostanee words should be pronounced; in some the letter R has been dropped, while in others it has been inserted where it had no right to be, and the word we have to deal with is an illustration of this last peculiarity. Jagannatha is the form in which the word is now given by the best authorities; Jagan, means 'World,' and Natha is usually rendered as 'Lord,' and thus we have 'The Lord of the World,' these words giving in English the title of the well-known divinity of Orissa. The name of the place where this particular idol resides also requires some correction. In maps and gazetteers it is found under the mis-pronounced word 'Juggernauth." It will be easily understood that the Hindus separate the name of the divinity they worship from that of the locality where it exists. A native of India would say that the temple of Jagannatha is at Puri in Orissa.' Puri means City,' and is only one of the many forms of the same word so common in Indian names, such as poor, pore, puram, &c., the new official orthography being pur. That this important religious centre should be called par excellence The City,' will so readily recall to most readers the names of other places which have received a similar title, although in different languages, it will not be necessary here to repeat them.



These are but slight corrections in comparison to what seems to be necessary in regard to the reputation of Jagannatha himself. In our own times the more extended and careful study of historical documents has led to the reversal of the ordinarily received ideas in regard to the character of prominent individuals who figured in the past; and it is quite possible that as the new science of comparative mythology makes progress it may very much modify the usually accepted notions we have of the deities belonging to the ancient religions. It is not beyond the bounds of possibility that Moloch may be whitewashed, and turn out to have been quite a respectable character. There is one old mythological personage whose character is so very bad, that his name is not even mentioned in polite society, and yet it has been long ago hinted that he is not quite so black as he is usually painted. The same may be said of Jagannatha. It would be difficult to justify everything done in connection with the worship of Puri, yet it is pretty clear that the most gross exaggera


tions have been indulged in. These misrepresentations have been repeated until they have received implicit credence over the whole globe, and the name of Juggernaut' is associated only with what is cruel and sanguinary. Whenever there is a systematic murderous destruction of human life to be denounced, Juggernaut' becomes the type of such acts, and is called upon to do duty by all writers and public speakers. It is scarcely possible to conceive a more complete perversion of the truth; and it may be stated that Jagannatha would to a certainty get heavy damages in any court were he to prosecute his defamers.

Jagannatha's relation to the Hindu mythology will partly explain his true nature. He is one of the manifestations of Vishnu, and is supposed to be the same as Krishna. The forms under which Vishnu is worshipped are more or less connected with love, while the manifestations of Siva are, on the contrary, of a fierce and terrible kind. Had the character given to Jagannatha been attributed to Siva, something like justification might be found for it. There is a well-known legend which illustrates the character of these deities. Among the innumerable gods of the Hindu Pantheon a discussion had arisen as to the reputation of the principal personages. One of the Devas at last proposed to try a practical test by which the matter might be settled. So he went up and kicked Siva. The result was terrible; that god burst into a wild passion and destroyed some millions of worlds before he calmed down again. The Deva then kicked Brahma. This deity became angry, he grumbled and growled a little, but did nothing in particular. The Deva then approached Vishnu, who was asleep, but awoke instantly on being kicked. He caught the foot that had given the blow, and stroking it with his hand, said he hoped it was not hurt, at the same time manifesting a warm anxiety as if he had been the cause of pain to the Deva, or as if he had done him an injury. The feeling against taking life, even of the most insignificant insects, which the Hindus carry at times to very extravagant extremes, is somehow connected with the worship of Vishnu, or is derived from Buddhism, two forms of faith which are thought to have been closely related, and both of which seem to have had something to do with the origin of the worship of Jagannatha at Puri. From this it will be seen that the destruction of life must be utterly opposed to such attributes, and that it would be out of harmony with the spirit which ought to guide in the worship of Vishnu or Jagannatha. The temple services present us with an illustration of this. Should by accident any person die within the temple walls, the ceremonies are at once stopped, the offerings are considered as polluted, and have to be carried away, and the whole place is looked upon as being unclean till it has been purified.

When the Ratha Yatra, or Car Festival, takes place, accidents do happen; there are thousands pulling the ropes by which the cars are moved. It is impossible to stop such a mass, and if anyone should fall, he may be trampled upon by such a surging crowd, and the

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