Among
other things, I had abundant opportunities of hearing that great old
master, Sebastian Bach. I remember perfectly well--though I knew
nothing about music then, and, I may add, know nothing whatever about it
now--the intense satisfaction and delight which I had in listening, by
the hour together, to Bach's fugues. It is a pleasure which remains with
me, I am glad to think; but, of late years, I have tried to find out
the why and wherefore, and it has often occurred to me that the pleasure
derived from musical compositions of this kind is essentially of the
same nature as that which is derived from pursuits which are commonly
regarded as purely intellectual. I mean, that the source of pleasure is
exactly the same as in most of my problems in morphology--that you
have the theme in one of the old master's works followed out in all its
endless variations, always appearing and always reminding you of unity
in variety. So in painting; what is called "truth to nature" is the
intellectual element coming in, and truth to nature depends entirely
upon the intellectual culture of the person to whom art is addressed. If
you are in Australia, you may get credit for being a good artist--I
mean among the natives--if you can draw a kangaroo after a fashion. But,
among men of higher civilisation, the intellectual knowledge we possess
brings its criticism into our appreciation of works of art, and we are
obliged to satisfy it, as well as the mere sense of beauty in colour and
in outline.
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