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THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
The lamp of truth. When one girds himself up for a journey—a life-journey into the art world—let him beware of the serpent of deceit, whose wily tongue once brought discord into Eden’s bowers; whose tempting voice marred the harmony of human life. Let him beware of becoming himself a traitor. Let him, already lighted by the lamp of sacrifice, look now for the truth, the ideal which can light every shadow of doubt, and burn in its white fire the last vestige of the veil which would conceal motives. Let him look into his inmost soul and commune long with the dweller in the innermost sanctum. Let him look to it that he enter not into the way of quicksands, where the lamp of truth can not burn; where damp, miasmatic fogs choke the light, and where the traveler will lose his path, and the life be lost in darkness. Let him beware that he follows not a will-o’-the-wisp, deceiving emanation from graves of the mold- ering dead. Let him look closely that he be not led astray. The truth light wavers not, but, like the pillar of fire which led God’s people of old through darkness of the night of bondage, the lamp of truth will guide through all dangers, through roughest ways, to the very altar of God, where the reward will be found for all who have in the art world been faithful.
Let him be fearless, and seek not to cover by flimsy artifice the many failures. Stand firm, and in the white light of truth all faults will be burned away, and at the last he may be worthy of being thought what he now wishes to seem. Truth will shrivel forever and destroy the veil of the seeming.
The lamp of power. Is our traveler lighted by its rays? Neither intricacy nor quantity (if I may use that word just here) denote power. Neither does an artist’s power depend upon surrounding circumstances. Not to be governed by, a true artist must govern circumstances. Methinks Beethoven, Mozart, Mendelssohn, Chopin and Wagner could show more power, more greatness, as artist souls in weaving poetry from the old-time spinet than can many a so-called artist of the present time hammer from the keys of the finest instrument of modern days. Why is this? Is it not that the lamp of power was alight within the soul, and the artist felt his power to be master of the machine before him? He was the soul—the instrument but the accessory. The artist held the secret, the “open sesame ” to the garden of God, where rarest pictures are painted in colors of sweetest sound. He could enter and gather for us the heaven-born blossoms, at times bright roses of love, and again a wreath of cypress or of yew, and his own hands could weave the crown of laurel which should be given at the end. The lamp of power can be lighted only by true and reverent love of art, and if the artist’s soul is lighted thus, he dare not stop to ask excuse or make apology, or tremble for fear of self-failure. If he loves his art, he shall carry safely the lamp of power. If one has a message from Heaven, it will find expression. Let the traveler think more of what that message may do for mankind, and less of the messenger; more of its effect or power to uplift, and less of the praise that the world will give. Oh, the commonplace to which a so-called artist stoops when he offers excuse for work unworthily done! Lovers of art should bear the message that God through them sends to mankind, with forgetfulness of self, and free from burden of excuse and apology should carry with stronger hand the lamp of power, which will light them toward the inner sanctuary, where they are called upon to act as priests before the starving, thirsty multitudes. He who can not forget self (which is weakness and sin) and grow toward strength and power gigantic, has no right at the high altar. If he fears what the world will say, let him go back and grovel with the commonplace.
Beauty—the central lamp, as Ruskin gives the order. On the one hand are sacrifice, truth, power; on the other, life, memory, obedience. And what is it to be lighted by all the other lamps, but to stand in the center and in the full light of the central lamp of beauty? If this be so, will not the artist strive for higher motives, and leave no earth-worshipers the caricatures of holy sound in way of catch tunes and trick music, which appeals to the lower nature; and will he not strive after more uplifting, heaven-born thoughts, leaving to earth-children the music that can only set the feet