8 10 86 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/df5ed20083c277a372ae62a9c8909245.jpg 11a96ffa66a7bb5b3e1bb931e2f93aa5 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appendix C: Economic Context Description An account of the resource Information on the economic context for To the Lighthouse Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rebecca Miller and Victoria O'Dea Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived various Type The nature or genre of the resource Text and still image Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available various Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Pamela Caughie Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Photograph Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Cornish Fishermen Description An account of the resource A photograph of local fishermen in Sennen Cove, Cornwall. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Michael John Ireland Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt46mz6g.9">"Tourism, Kinship, and Social Change in Sennen Cove, Cornwall"</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Photograph Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Amsterdam University Press Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 4 December 2021 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rebecca Miller & Tori O'Dea Subject The topic of the resource Fishing Economy Cornwall fishing https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/cc499143ebd6ce33a76530b649184dd8.jpg c4b15db0c88fc44ca028121b3bc560c8 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/04229ba97e468b8a105e8a2c547a1f4a.jpg dc5e0f013e6484a75c90e7c166f886d2 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appendix C: Economic Context Description An account of the resource Information on the economic context for To the Lighthouse Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rebecca Miller and Victoria O'Dea Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived various Type The nature or genre of the resource Text and still image Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available various Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Pamela Caughie Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Paper Text Any textual data included in the document A parliamentary bill "to prevent mischievous practices" with drift-net when fishing for pilchards. This bill restricts the use of drift-nets from June-November with fines enforced if fishers are caught using the nets during that time. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource "Reasons Humbly Proposed" Description An account of the resource A measure presented in Parliament in 1680 opposing a bill that restricted the use of drift-nets in coastal fishing. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anonymous Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The Huntington Library Type The nature or genre of the resource Parliamentary Bill Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available <a href="https://www.proquest.com/docview/2240854054/pageLevelImage/133C3CE2D8C64014PQ/1?accountid=12163&amp;imgSeq=1">ProQuest</a> Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 4 December 2021 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rebecca Miller & Tori O'Dea Subject The topic of the resource Fishing Economy fishing https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/acd08609b3fd9ea148cdb4e52a2f8170.jpg 06821786ed99e6b2979427e5386d588c https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/7389458bf0bdf5c7ee9fc233a33e6993.jpg 3f30ca3bbcec51cce7e935d794a20f9b https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/5c60875ddad1c7b8fc8f2be0a0384f88.jpg cc550d96a3c44365fb232be8ec765cd1 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appendix C: Economic Context Description An account of the resource Information on the economic context for To the Lighthouse Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rebecca Miller and Victoria O'Dea Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived various Type The nature or genre of the resource Text and still image Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available various Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Pamela Caughie Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Book Text Any textual data included in the document THE MANAGEMENT OF SERVANTS. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. In the course of writing a former work, “Manners and Tone of Good Society," it was found that the duties of servants, or rather the manner in which those duties were performed, came prominently for- ward, and greatly influenced the smooth working of the domestic machinery, and that without the con- stant co-operation of well-trained servants, domestic machinery is completely thrown out of gear, and the best bred of hostesses placed at a disadvantage. The idea was thus conceived of writing the present work to serve as an auxiliary or aid to those masters and mistresses whose servants are either inexperienced or indifferently trained. To demonstrate the method, the manner, the style, in which things should be done, has been the object in view throughout these pages. The behaviour and bearing of servants in the performance of their duties have also been duly considered, being essential points in their training An agreeable chatty style of writing is as pleasant to read, as it is facile to write, and carries both reader and author over the ground almost with a bound, but this style has its drawbacks in a book of rules for frequent reference, as the present work purports to be. To envelop a rule, or a chapter of rules, in a cloud of pleasantries, sparkling or otherwise, as the capacity of the author may de- termine, sprinkled and seasoned with many apt quotations from well-known literary lights, scarcely tends to elucidate a particular subject or rule, or to enlighten the reader in following any direct method. Bewilderment, and a vague uncertainty as to thơ author's meaning, are likely to be the result of many dissertations and deviations from the main point. Therefore, in these pages, the main point has been strictly kept in view, all inclination to be other than tedious has been restrained, and simplicity of diction in conveying the most intricate of instructions has been steadily adhered to. This didactic and un- relieved mode of handling the subject, necessarily engendered much tautology and not a little repetition, but as the mainspring of instruction is repetition, repetition in works of this description becomes a welcome feature. This work is especially written for the use of masters and mistresses, to enable them to instruct their servants as to the correct method in which every duty should be performed ; and to give this instruction without hesitation or doubt as to how things should be done, with but little or no trouble to themselves. The method of waiting at table, and every branch of domestic service, in force in the households of the upper classes of society, both on large and small scales, from the stately mansion to the bijou resi- dence, has been fully gone into and explained. Thus every class of master and mistress will find the present volume applicable to their servants, and to their surroundings, and may confidently and unhesitatingly follow its lead. The technical and manual portions of this work have been gathered from experienced and competent servants, whose long service in families of position is sufficient guarantee as to the class of information supplied by them; and it is owing to this valuable assistance that the writer is enabled to place before the public the most comprehensive details of domestic service. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Primary Source: The Management of Servants: A Practical Guide to the Routine of Domestic Service, Chapter 1: Introduction Description An account of the resource Introduction to the manual for households employing domestic servants. Entire manual contains further reading chapters on categories such as "Households: Their Various Scales," "Engaging and Dismissing Servants," and "Opening the Door, and Announcing Visitors" Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Member of the aristocracy Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc1.31175008555065&view=1up&seq=1&skin=2021 Type The nature or genre of the resource ebook Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Hathi Trust Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 6 December 2021 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rebecca Miller & Tori O'Dea https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/79d3ad83befc474de70a7760c7982a93.jpg 71bb902833e9dc4db9f160be175e7747 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/a20fa32aed5575969c7b2b4e0decb228.jpg f9a66540463645134f224ecc783f02b3 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/cbd8ad938d6d8f635a1e916ef386de7e.jpg 5356457e64bb8f5984c9615eb916129a https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/ffebbb02b1e5ab9d8581ab2c8361bd07.jpg 9c73f786a6143f18584294d7ae97938c https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/5501568c081f6fc047f3595954bb6662.jpg 958a2daae29c9d224610aaf975e0b6fa https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/e7e10388487b97f19b5e42c315d1408d.jpg 916ce16baea3ff1ba7a1150649578a42 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/bcfb5e4f167073a921f36120dd610afe.jpg fbed7a9bb54cf67671059da2acec0092 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/84861f63bad4a91ea9a518d38ce43c0b.jpg 63e7607126bc26790605e2ff19b0f6d5 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/bd846bedb4d2a11c6512d160d3183af2.jpg a433702c39332ab74d228b6ff604a7cc Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appendix C: Economic Context Description An account of the resource Information on the economic context for To the Lighthouse Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rebecca Miller and Victoria O'Dea Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived various Type The nature or genre of the resource Text and still image Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available various Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Pamela Caughie Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Book Text Any textual data included in the document CHAPTER II. CAPE CORNWALL TO GODREVY HEAD. Haven, bears, Mib, N. E., distanty.W. we Bearings from Cape Cornwall.–St. Ann's Light, Milford Haven, bears N.E. by N. northerly, distant ninety-five miles. Saltee's Lightship, N. & E., distant one hundred and twenty miles and a half. Cork Harbour, N N.W. westerly, one hundred and forty miles. Lundy Island Lighthouse, N.E. E. easterly, seventy-three miles. Trevose Head, E.N.E., thirty-six miles. The Smalls Light, N.N.E. northerly, ninety-six miles. Dangers between Cape Cornwall and Battery Point, W. side of St. Ives Bay.—The coast trends N.E. to Pendeen Point, two miles and a half from Cape Cornwall, and is much indented, the cliffs varying from 2oft. to 100ft. On Pendeen Point, which juts out like Castle Treryn, there is a watch-house. Three rocks lie off this point, called The Wra, or Three Stone Oar. They are always above water and are steep-to. Between Cape Cornwall and these rocks there is Manver Rock, dry at half ebb, two-thirds of a cable from Botallack Head. Cokle Marney Rock is dry at half ebb, and lies one cable in a northerly direction from Botallack Head. N.W. of Pendeen Point are the Skinvynecks, distant one cable and a half. The two inner ones dry at one-third ebb, and the outer one is awash at low-water. The Three Stone Oar Rocks are one-third of a mile N.E. of the watch-hill, Pendeen Point, and are only just above ordinary spring tides. Avarrack Rock, lying S.W. by W. three-quarters of a mile from the Three Stone Oar Rocks, is dry at half ebb. There is a cove one mile E. of Pendeen Point, with a coast- guard station and rocket apparatus. Off the cove, N.E., at two cables from the shore, lie the Mozen Rocks, which dry at three-quarters ebb. Gurnard Head is three miles E. of Pendeen Cove, off which lie several detached rocks. The Ebal is the largest of them, and is covered at high-water springs. It is one cable from the shore. Gurnard Head is a singularly striking jagged headland, 185ft. high. There is a deeply-recessed cove on its E. side. From this headland to Carn Naun Point, or Trefalgen Point, is about two miles and a half, with several coves and rocks in between, all of which can be cleared by keeping half a mile off the shore, none of the dangers lying out farther than two cables and a half. From Carn Naun, or Trefalgen Point, the coast bears E. by S. } S. to Battery or St. Ives Point, distant two miles and a half. The Caraks lie half a mile W. of Carn Naun, and are two cables off shore. The highest part is 25ft. above high-water. The rest of the rocks uncover at the last quarter ebb. The land behind Carn Naun is high and rugged. St. Ives Bay lies between Battery or St. Ives Point and Godrevy Head, and is three miles and a half across from E. to W., and is two iniles deep. Battery Point is 104ft. high, with a pilot watch-house and a three-gun battery on it. As the coast recedes little of St. Ives can be seen until quite round the point, which is fairly steep-to. When well to the eastward of this point the town will appear rising up the side of the hill, with Tregenna Castle on a hill to the S. of the town, while on a hill further S. is Knill's Monument (an obelisk), behind which will be seen Trecroben Hill (590ft.). The bay is entirely open to northerly winds, the best anchorage being in eight or nine fathoms stiff clay, with Battery Point bearing N.W. 1 W., and Knill's Monument open E. of a farm bearing S.W. · W. But this is an impossible anchorage with N. or even W. winds, and is not very comfortable with a strong E. one. As a matter of fact, St. Ives is not a place which offers any shelter except with off-shore winds. The harbour dries nearly 6ft. above low-water springs. There is 14ft. at high-water springs and 8ft. at neaps. At the pier-head there is 20ft. at high-water. A stone pier, 166yds. long, was built in 1770, and an addition of rooyds. has since been added. There is a breakwater, 200yds. long, but the outer end of piles and rubbish have been destroyed by gales to the extent of 140ft., and the ruins of it form a half-tide reef, called Fisherman's Reef. The bottom of the harbour is sand covered with shingle. The fishing-boats moor to iron posts fixed above high-water-mark for bow-posts, and to two buoys for stern-fasts. They often come adrift owing to the heavy ground swell. It will at once be seen that this is no place for a yacht. Light.—On the inner pier a fixed light is shown at the height of 28ft. above high-water, showing red through an arc of 6odeg. between the bearings of S. 17deg. W. and S. 83deg. W., cover- ing the breakwater; and white S. of the red sector, where there is roft. or more at the pier-head, and green when there is less than Toft. Visible nine miles. There is an old light-tower standing inshore of this light, but it is disused. Directions.-St. Ives is easy to enter as regards absence of dangers other than those arising from the sea. It goes without saying that with on-shore gales it had better be avoided. Mer- ran Rock, lying between Battery Point and the outer pier, covers when there is a depth of 12ft. in the harbour. Keep Knill's Monument open E. of the outer pier or breakwater and round up to the stone pier, to which it will be well to make fast as far in as possible if there is room, otherwise a vessel must use legs unless she can take the ground easily. The W. pier is constructing, meanwhile two red lights are shown on it vertically. Tides. - It is high-water, full and change, at 4hr. 44min. local time, or 5hr. 6min. Greenwich time. Springs rise 21ft.; neaps, 15ft. Hayle Estuary.-At the head, or S., of St. Ives Bay lies the entrance to Hayle Creek, the outlet of several small streams. As the whole isthmus across to Marazion on Mounts Bay is not more than five miles there is not much room for a large river. The whole coast from Carbis Bay to Godrevy Head is bordered by wide sands. A channel is kept open to allow of vessels drawing 14ft. to enter at high-water by sluicing the estuary from reservoirs, and a half-tide dyke, 643yds. long, extends from Chapel Anjou Point on the W. side of the entrance, on which are five perches or warping posts, and two black buoys mark the continuation of the sand bank seaward. Square red buoys, with rings for warping, mark the E. side. The outer red buoy is a can buoy. The bar, marked by a black nun buoy, has a depth of 2oft. at high-water springs, and 14ft. high-water neaps, and is dry at low-water ; but vessels drawing 6ft. can get up as far as Lelant at three-quarters flood. Tide Lights.-On the W. side, at Chapel Anjou Point, two fixed white lights are shown when there is 12ft. on the bar. The high light is painted red and stands on three legs. The low lighthouse is placed on four legs and painted black. They are 92yds. apart, and are 8ift. and 59ft. above high-water. The lights are visible six miles. The lights are shifted as the bar changes. Lelant Church is a good mark to steer for over the W. point of Hayle entrance until the bar buoy is seen. At Lelant Quay, opposite Hayle on the W. side, a red light is shown. The coast from Hayle Bar Buoy is bordered with sand, stretching out nearly a quarter of a mile from the shore as far as Godrevy Head. Towans, or sand hills, fringe the coast as far as Gwythian, where the shore becomes steep, with rocks showing through the sand. Bassack Rock lies S.W. by S. of Godrevy Island, four cables, from the shore. It dries at two-thirds ebb. Lelant Church open of Black Cliff, S.W., clears it to the N.W. Godrevy Head is 228ft. high, and is bold, but with ledges extending off it one cable and a half. Godrevy Island lies off the head. It is Soft. high, with an islet off its N.W. side. The S.E. side is foul with rocks, drying at half ebb. On the S.W. is a reef awash at low-water, half- a-cable off, called Shore Lanner. There is a channel, with 6ft. low-water, one cable wide, between the island and the head. Godrevy Lighthouse.-In an octagonal tower, 86ft. high, is shown a flashing white light from a height of 120ft. above high-water, giving a fash every rosec., visible fifteen miles. To point out The Stones, a fixed red light is shown from the same tower, 27ft. below the flashing light. The red light is only visible between the bearings of S. by E. & E. to S.E. E. Fog-signal.-- A bell is sounded every 5sec. The Stones.—These dangers lie one mile and a tenth from Godrevy Lighthouse, bearing N.W. } N. Hevah Rock is the outermost of these rocks, and uncovers at low-water springs, and the rocky bank is one cable and a half in extent to the three-fathoms depth. Between it and the eastern group of rocks, extending nearly half a mile, is a deep-water channel, with a strong tide setting through it. The eastern rocks, which show at low-water, are four, uncovering from one-third to three- quarters ebb. A black buoy with staff and ball is moored in ten fathoms, a quarter of a mile N.E. of the Hevah Rock, but it is often washed away. Clearing Marks.-Gurnard Head, open of Carn Naun, W. by S., leads one-third of a mile N. of The Stones. Gwinear Church (behind Gwythian) in line with the E. side of Godrevy Island, S. & W., leads E. of The Stones ; and Gwinear Church, in line with the old engine chimney, bearing S. by E. & E., leads to the W. of them. The Sound between The Stones and Godrevy Island is nearly half-a-mile wide, with four fathoms and three quarters depth. Trecobben Hill (590ft.) between Carrack Gladdon Farm and Fishery Beacon House, bearing S.W. \ W., leads through. Remarks on the appearance of the coast and objects of interest visible from the sea, or worth visiting from St. Ives, between Cape Cornwall and Godrevy Head. — The coast is very rugged and forbidding-looking after Cape Cornwall is passed. The celebrated Botallack mine lies just beyond the Cape. This mine goes down to the depth of 1050ft., and some of its galleries extend 12ooſt. or more under the sea. The roar of the waves is said to be heard distinctly down below when the Atlantic is tumbling home before a howling N.W. or W. gale. The Prince of Wales visited this mine with the Princess when he took his bride to make the acquaintance of her new Duchy. Behind Botallack, St. Just, in Penarth, is seen. The church is very interesting, with a tomb to one Silus, said to date from the sixth century. There is some quaint Celtic tracery, and the columns have unique capitals. In the village there is what is called a British amphitheatre, and several ancient prehistoric monuments are in the neighbourhood. It was St. Just who behaved so badly to St. Keverne when he dined with him. He stole his spoons. St. Keverne did not actually know this, but he knew “St. Joost.” So after dinner he said he would see him home part of the way, anyhow. It was only a walk of about thirty miles, but Cornish saints thought nothing of that. On the way he picked up some stones ; they did not weigh more than half-a-ton or so each. He was able to conceal these about his person, as saints did not wear trousers, only loose frocks. When they reached Breage, nearly half-way to St. Just, St. Keverne said he must be going back, but would like to take his spoons with him if St. Just did not mind. St. Just did mind, however, and was very indignant. However, St. Keverne, after listening politely for a short time, produced his stones, with which he proceeded to bombard the person of his saintly brother, whereupon St. Just dropped the spoons and ran. The stones are there at Tremen Keverne, near Breage, to this day, and there are no others like them, except at Crousa- down, where St. Keverne picked them up. So there is no doubt about the story. Sailing E. we see Pendeen Point. Behind it is a new church built in imitation of the cathedral of Iona, at the expense of Mr. Aitken, the vicar. Pendeen House dates from the seventeenth century, and there is an ancient cave-dwelling near it. Lanyon Cromlech, or the Giant's Quoit, lies inland, from the centre of the bay, between Pendeen Point and Gurnard Head, about two miles as the crow flies. The upper slab is 18ft. long by 8ft. broad, and three stones about 5ft. high sup- port it. There is another cromlech close by on Lanyon Farm; and the Men-an-Tol, or Holed Stone, with the Men Scryfa, or stone inscribed with the words “Rialobran Cunova Fil” encised on it, are a few yards farther on. These prehistoric remains precisely resenible the menhirs and dolmens of Brittany, and were evidently erected by the same or kindred people. Conspicuous behind the rugged headland of Gurnard is Mulfra Quoit, a high hill crowned by a ruined cromlech, from which there is a magnificent view over Mounts Bay and the Bristol Channel. • The picturesque village of Zennor lies below, with its fishing. cove and old church. Behind Carn Naun the hills rise steeply, and the scenery is wild – Zennor lying in a deep valley shut out from the rest of the world by rugged steeps and moorland. The contrast between the N. and S. coasts is very conspicuous when ashore. All here is bleak and barren, whereas at Gulval, only six miles away, tropical plants grow in the open air. St. Ives is built on the steep slopes of hills, to its considerable discomfort sometimes after heavy rains, as the water pours down through the steep streets, flooding the shops and houses. The rains of December, 1894, were remarkable for the destruction they caused. The old name of the town was Porth-la, from the name of an Irish virgin who travelled with St. Piran when he came over as a missionary in 460. Here she died and was buried. It is curious to note how in the fourth and fifth centuries everybody was busy converting some one else. The Bretons say the Welsh or British saints came over and converted them; the Cornishmen say Irish saints converted them; the Irish say that they were converted by the Scotch ; and the Scotch by the Gauls. But they were all doing it about the same time, and no one seems to have thought of converting their own people. However, St. la gave her name to St. Ives. The town suffered during the Cornish revolt in 1549, when so much landed property changed hands, passing from the old families into the possession of the new courriers ; and again in the civil wars of Charles I. The population is 6445, and there is a very comfortable hotel, Tregenna Castle, standing in beautiful grounds. The railway station is the terminus of the branch line of the Great Western Railway from St. Erth. The quay is very busy in the pilchard season, from July to October, and the fishing-luggers are smart, handsome craft. They have to moor stoutly in the harbour owing to the scour of the sea in westerly and northerly gales. The church is a fifteenth-century building with a Norman font, and the bones of St. la-so they say. Battery Point is at the end of what is called the island. Boat-building is carried on here and at Hayle ; but the chief support of the place is the pilchard fishery, the fish being exported to Italy. The monument which has been referred to as a sea-mark is a granite pyramid erected by John Knill, collector of customs, in 1782, at St. Ives, in memory of himself. He died in 1791, and established a quinquennial festival to his own memory. By his will he left property to provide for the following items of expenditure: £10 for a dinner for the mayor, the vicar, and the collector of customs, who may each invite three guests; £5 to be divided among ten little girls, born in the borough, who are to dance round his grave ; £ I to the fiddler to play to the girls ; £2 to two widows who are 10 act as chaperons ; £i for ribbons ; £i for an account book and a marriage- portion for a St. Ives woman selected for good conduct; £5 as a prize for knitting nets; £5 for curing pilchards ; and 65 to two “follower boys." The date of the festival is July 25. At Carbis Bay there is a watering-place, and it is becoming a favourite bathing-place. Lelant is an old fishing village, and a great resort of the pilchard boats. It has a quay, and might be a good place to lay up small yachts; it is opposite Hayle. At Hayle there is a fair amount of foreign and coasting trade. The wharves accommodate a good inany vessels. There are building slips and machinery works, and there is a steam tug to assist vessels in and out. If only there were a little more water always in the river Hayle would be a convenient shelter to stop at in coasting up the Bristol Channel. The coast is bordered by sand hills, some rooft. high, between Phillack, on the E. side of Hayle estuary, and Gwythian, which is the last village before Godrevy Head is reached. Inland the country rises to high hills, lying between Cam- borne, Penrhyn, and Helston, but the view offers nothing of a remarkable nature. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Primary text: Sailing Tours: The Yachtsman's Guide to the Cruising Waters of the English Coast: Chapter 2 Description An account of the resource Manual describing the boating routes along the coast of England and Scotland published in 1895. Chapter 2 describes the journey around Cornwall and the dangers of sailing by Godrevy Island, including a description of the function of the lighthouse. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Frank Cowper Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=hvd.hn5w39&view=1up&seq=10&skin=2021 Type The nature or genre of the resource ebook Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Hathi Trust Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 6 December 2021 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rebecca Miller & Tori O'Dea https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/798ad01042f14f65736151ab913698e6.jpg 604ab6d92952551a84b753b74ef213a6 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appendix A: Aesthetic Context Description An account of the resource Information on the aesthetic context for To the Lighthouse Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rosie Frehe and Grace Watkins Type The nature or genre of the resource Text and still image Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available various Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Pamela Caughie Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data painting Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Abstract Painting, ca. 1914 Description An account of the resource A painting by British artist Vanessa Bell titled "Abstract Painting," dated ca. 1914. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Vanessa Bell Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The Tate https://www.tate.org.uk/research/publications/in-focus/abstract-painting-vanessa-bell/test-for-chrome-yellow Type The nature or genre of the resource artwork Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Tate https://www.tate.org.uk/research/publications/in-focus/abstract-painting-vanessa-bell/test-for-chrome-yellow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource ca. 1914 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rosemary Frehe https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/0ed9fadc929c17527e70bdb0bbf8d7b4.JPG bf9f462bba7a549db711da5c0e8b196c https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/d0c26be0f22e25283fa635d99093abe3.JPG e9e29a2305dc76f8d3fa93d7f83e2ea7 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/a607797fe9a6cc54af3cef4961b4dcb6.JPG d69a38adb7bb01c12cf9ced6c8d956a1 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/c2ef8e36fd8587b99644e1ef148d1a6a.JPG 1a432b6ab3aa948ca4dddb064aa8dfd0 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/93f3d105f91069b4de392e6976903755.JPG 0d098fb64984327e70ab8349edc3fb29 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/ad0cd730c9c2e44ea44150b9e19388d0.JPG 265568a1f177f647283e0d37f77c7aab https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/651f3458bf50d46f4da70f2139a2dc47.JPG d402eb6885c98463ef758dc2c28e1c1f Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appendix A: Aesthetic Context Description An account of the resource Information on the aesthetic context for To the Lighthouse Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rosie Frehe and Grace Watkins Type The nature or genre of the resource Text and still image Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available various Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Pamela Caughie Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Text Any textual data included in the document AN ESSAY IN ÆSTHETICS[2] ACERTAIN painter, not without some reputation at the present day, once wrote a little book on the art he practises, in which he gave a definition of that art so succinct that I take it as a point of departure for this essay. “The art of painting,” says that eminent authority, “is the art of imitating solid objects upon a flat surface by means of pigments.” It is delightfully simple, but prompts the question—Is that all? And, if so, what a deal of unnecessary fuss has been made about it. Now, it is useless to deny that our modern writer has some very respectable authorities behind him. Plato, indeed, gave a very similar account of the affair, and himself put the question—is it then worth while? And, being scrupulously and relentlessly logical, he decided that it was not worth while, and proceeded to turn the artists out of his ideal republic. For all that, the world has continued obstinately to consider that painting was worth while, and though, indeed, it has never quite made up its mind as to what, exactly, the graphic arts did for it, it has persisted in honouring and admiring its painters. Can we arrive at any conclusions as to the nature of the graphic arts, which will at all explain our feelings about them, which will at least put them into some kind of relation with the other arts, and not leave us in the extreme perplexity, engendered by any theory of mere imitation? For, I suppose, it must be admitted that if imitation is the sole purpose of the graphic arts, it is surprising that the works of such arts are ever looked upon as more than curiosities, or ingenious toys, are ever taken seriously by grown-up people. Moreover, it will be surprising that they have no recognisable affinity with other arts, such as music or architecture, in which the imitation of actual objects is a negligible quantity. To form such conclusions is the aim I have put before myself in this essay. Even if the results are not decisive, the inquiry may lead us to a view of the graphic arts that will not be altogether unfruitful.{12} I must begin with some elementary psychology, with a consideration of the nature of instincts. A great many objects in the world, when presented to our senses, put in motion a complex nervous machinery, which ends in some instinctive appropriate action. We see a wild bull in a field; quite without our conscious interference a nervous process goes on, which, unless we interfere forcibly, ends in the appropriate reaction of flight. The nervous mechanism which results in flight causes a certain state of consciousness, which we call the emotion of fear. The whole of animal life, and a great part of human life, is made up of these instinctive reactions to sensible objects, and their accompanying emotions. But man has the peculiar faculty of calling up again in his mind the echo of past experiences of this kind, of going over it again, “in imagination” as we say. He has, therefore, the possibility of a double life; one the actual life, the other the imaginative life. Between these two lives there is this great distinction, that in the actual life the processes of natural selection have brought it about that the instinctive reaction, such, for instance, as flight from danger, shall be the important part of the whole process, and it is towards this that the man bends his whole conscious endeavour. But in the imaginative life no such action is necessary, and, therefore, the whole consciousness may be focussed upon the perceptive and the emotional aspects of the experience. In this way we get, in the imaginative life, a different set of values, and a different kind of perception. We can get a curious side glimpse of the nature of this imaginative life from the cinematograph. This resembles actual life in almost every respect, except that what the psychologists call the conative part of our reaction to sensations, that is to say, the appropriate resultant action is cut off. If, in a cinematograph, we see a runaway horse and cart, we do not have to think either of getting out of the way or heroically interposing ourselves. The result is that in the first place we see the event much more clearly; see a number of quite interesting but irrelevant things, which in real life could not struggle into our consciousness, bent, as it would be, entirely upon the problem of our appropriate reaction. I remember seeing in a cinematograph the arrival of a train at a foreign station and the people descending from the carriages; there was no platform, and to my{13} intense surprise I saw several people turn right round after reaching the ground, as though to orientate themselves; an almost ridiculous performance, which I had never noticed in all the many hundred occasions on which such a scene had passed before my eyes in real life. The fact being that at a station one is never really a spectator of events, but an actor engaged in the drama of luggage or prospective seats, and one actually sees only so much as may help to the appropriate action. In the second place, with regard to the visions of the cinematograph, one notices that whatever emotions are aroused by them, though they are likely to be weaker than those of ordinary life, are presented more clearly to the consciousness. If the scene presented be one of an accident, our pity and horror, though weak, since we know that no one is really hurt, are felt quite purely, since they cannot, as they would in life, pass at once into actions of assistance. A somewhat similar effect to that of the cinematograph can be obtained by watching a mirror in which a street scene is reflected. If we look at the street itself we are almost sure to adjust ourselves in some way to its actual existence. We recognise an acquaintance, and wonder why he looks so dejected this morning, or become interested in a new fashion in hats—the moment we do that the spell is broken, we are reacting to life itself in however slight a degree, but, in the mirror, it is easier to abstract ourselves completely, and look upon the changing scene as a whole. It then, at once, takes on the visionary quality, and we become true spectators, not selecting what we will see, but seeing everything equally, and thereby we come to notice a number of appearances and relations of appearances, which would have escaped our vision before, owing to that perpetual economising by selection of what impressions we will assimilate, which in life we perform by unconscious processes. The frame of the mirror then, does, to some extent, turn the reflected scene from one that belongs to our actual life into one that belongs rather to the imaginative life. The frame of the mirror makes its surface into a very rudimentary work of art, since it helps us to attain to the artistic vision. For that is what, as you will already have guessed, I have been coming to all this time, namely that the work of art is intimately connected{14} with the secondary imaginative life, which all men live to a greater or lesser extent. That the graphic arts are the expression of the imaginative life rather than a copy of actual life might be guessed from observing children. Children, if left to themselves, never, I believe, copy what they see, never, as we say, “draw from nature,” but express, with a delightful freedom and sincerity, the mental images which make up their own imaginative lives. Art, then, is an expression and a stimulus of this imaginative life, which is separated from actual life by the absence of responsive action. Now this responsive action implies in actual life moral responsibility. In art we have no such moral responsibility—it presents a life freed from the binding necessities of our actual existence. What then is the justification for this life of the imagination which all human beings live more or less fully? To the pure moralist, who accepts nothing but ethical values, in order to be justified, it must be shown not only not to hinder but actually to forward right action, otherwise it is not only useless but, since it absorbs our energies, positively harmful. To such a one two views are possible, one the Puritanical view at its narrowest, which regards the life of the imagination as no better or worse than a life of sensual pleasure, and therefore entirely reprehensible. The other view is to argue that the imaginative life does subserve morality. And this is inevitably the view taken by moralists like Ruskin, to whom the imaginative life is yet an absolute necessity. It is a view which leads to some very hard special pleading, even to a self-deception which is in itself morally undesirable. But here comes in the question of religion, for religion is also an affair of the imaginative life, and, though it claims to have a direct effect upon conduct, I do not suppose that the religious person if he were wise would justify religion entirely by its effect on morality, since that, historically speaking, has not been by any means uniformly advantageous. He would probably say that the religious experience was one which corresponded to certain spiritual capacities of human nature, the exercise of which is in itself good and desirable apart from their effect upon actual life. And so, too, I think the artist might if he chose take a mystical attitude, and declare that the fullness and completeness of the imaginative life he leads may correspond to{15} an existence more real and more important than any that we know of in mortal life. And in saying that, his appeal would find a sympathetic echo in most minds, for most people would, I think, say that the pleasures derived from art were of an altogether different character and more fundamental than merely sensual pleasures, that they did exercise some faculties which are felt to belong to whatever part of us there may be which is not entirely ephemeral and material. It might even be that from this point of view we should rather justify actual life by its relation to the imaginative, justify nature by its likeness to art. I mean this, that since the imaginative life comes in the course of time to represent more or less what mankind feels to be the completest expression of its own nature, the freest use of its innate capacities, the actual life may be explained and justified in its approximation here and there, however partially and inadequately, to that freer and fuller life. Before leaving this question of the justification of art, let me put it in another way. The imaginative life of a people has very different levels at different times, and these levels do not always correspond with the general level of the morality of actual life. Thus in the thirteenth century we read of barbarity and cruelty which would shock even us; we may I think admit that our moral level, our general humanity is decidedly higher to-day, but the level of our imaginative life is incomparably lower; we are satisfied there with a grossness, a sheer barbarity and squalor which would have shocked the thirteenth century profoundly. Let us admit the moral gain gladly, but do we not also feel a loss; do we not feel that the average business man would be in every way a more admirable, more respectable being if his imaginative life were not so squalid and incoherent? And, if we admit any loss then, there is some function in human nature other than a purely ethical one, which is worthy of exercise. Now the imaginative life has its own history both in the race and in the individual. In the individual life one of the first effects of freeing experience from the necessities of appropriate responsive action is to indulge recklessly the emotion of self-aggrandisement. The day-dreams of a child are filled with extravagant romances in which he is always the invincible hero. Music—which of all the arts{16} supplies the strongest stimulus to the imaginative life, and at the same time has the least power of controlling its direction—music, at certain stages of people’s lives, has the effect merely of arousing in an almost absurd degree this egoistic elation, and Tolstoy appears to believe that this is its only possible effect. But with the teaching of experience and the growth of character the imaginative life comes to respond to other instincts and to satisfy other desires, until, indeed, it reflects the highest aspirations and the deepest aversions of which human nature is capable. In dreams and when under the influence of drugs the imaginative life passes out of our own control, and in such cases its experiences may be highly undesirable, but whenever it remains under our own control it must always be on the whole a desirable life. That is not to say that it is always pleasant, for it is pretty clear that mankind is so constituted as to desire much besides pleasure, and we shall meet among the great artists, the great exponents, that is, of the imaginative life, many to whom the merely pleasant is very rarely a part of what is desirable. But this desirability of the imaginative life does distinguish it very sharply from actual life, and is the direct result of that first fundamental difference, its freedom from necessary external conditions. Art, then, is, if I am right, the chief organ of the imaginative life, it is by art that it is stimulated and controlled within us, and, as we have seen, the imaginative life is distinguished by the greater clearness of its perception, and the greater purity and freedom of its emotion. First with regard to the greater clearness of perception. The needs of our actual life are so imperative, that the sense of vision becomes highly specialised in their service. With an admirable economy we learn to see only so much as is needful for our purposes; but this is in fact very little, just enough to recognise and identify each object or person; that done, they go into an entry in our mental catalogue and are no more really seen. In actual life the normal person really only reads the labels as it were on the objects around him and troubles no further. Almost all the things which are useful in any way put on more or less this cap of invisibility. It is only when an object exists in our lives for no other purpose than to be seen that we really look at it, as for instance at a China ornament or a precious{17} stone, and towards such even the most normal person adopts to some extent the artistic attitude of pure vision abstracted from necessity. Now this specialisation of vision goes so far that ordinary people have almost no idea of what things really look like, so that oddly enough the one standard that popular criticism applies to painting, namely, whether it is like nature or not, is one which most people are, by the whole tenour of their lives, prevented from applying properly. The only things they have ever really looked at being other pictures; the moment an artist who has looked at nature brings to them a clear report of something definitely seen by him, they are wildly indignant at its untruth to nature. This has happened so constantly in our own time that there is no need to prove it. One instance will suffice. Monet is an artist whose chief claim to recognition lies in the fact of his astonishing power of faithfully reproducing certain aspects of nature, but his really naïve innocence and sincerity was taken by the public to be the most audacious humbug, and it required the teaching of men like Bastien-Lepage, who cleverly compromised between the truth and an accepted convention of what things looked like, to bring the world gradually round to admitting truths which a single walk in the country with purely unbiassed vision would have established beyond doubt. But though this clarified sense perception which we discover in the imaginative life is of great interest, and although it plays a larger part in the graphic arts than in any other, it might perhaps be doubted whether, interesting, curious, fascinating as it is, this aspect of the imaginative life would ever by itself make art of profound importance to mankind. But it is different, I think, with the emotional aspect. We have admitted that the emotions of the imaginative are generally weaker than those of actual life. The picture of a saint being slowly flayed alive, revolting as it is, will not produce the actual physical sensations of sickening disgust that a modern man would feel if he could assist at the actual event; but they have a compensating clearness of presentment to the consciousness. The more poignant emotions of actual life have, I think, a kind of numbing effect analogous to the paralysing influence of fear in some animals; but even if this experience be not generally admitted, all will admit that the need for responsive action hurries us along and prevents us from ever realising{18} fully what the emotion is that we feel, from co-ordinating it perfectly with other states. In short, the motives we actually experience are too close to us to enable us to feel them clearly. They are in a sense unintelligible. In the imaginative life, on the contrary, we can both feel the emotion and watch it. When we are really moved at the theatre we are always both on the stage and in the auditorium. Yet another point about the emotions of the imaginative life—since they require no responsive action we can give them a new valuation. In real life we must to some extent cultivate those emotions which lead to useful action, and we are bound to appraise emotions according to the resultant action. So that, for instance, the feelings of rivalry and emulation do get an encouragement which perhaps they scarcely deserve, whereas certain feelings which appear to have a high intrinsic value get almost no stimulus in actual life. For instance, those feelings to which the name of the cosmic emotion has been somewhat unhappily given find almost no place in life, but, since they seem to belong to certain very deep springs of our nature, do become of great importance in the arts. Morality, then, appreciates emotion by the standard of resultant action. Art appreciates emotion in and for itself. This view of the essential importance in art of the expression of the emotions is the basis of Tolstoy’s marvellously original and yet perverse and even exasperating book, “What is Art,” and I willingly confess, while disagreeing with almost all his results, how much I owe to him. He gives an example of what he means by calling art the means of communicating emotions. He says, let us suppose a boy to have been pursued in the forest by a bear. If he returns to the village and merely states that he was pursued by a bear and escaped, that is ordinary language, the means of communicating facts or ideas; but if he describes his state first of heedlessness, then of sudden alarm and terror as the bear appears, and finally of relief when he gets away, and describes this so that his hearers share his emotions, then his description is a work of art. Now in so far as the boy does this in order to urge the villagers to go out and kill the bear, though he may be using artistic methods, his speech is not a pure work of art; but if of a winter evening the boy{19} relates his experience for the sake of the enjoyment of his adventure in retrospect, or better still, if he makes up the whole story for the sake of the imagined emotions, then his speech becomes a pure work of art. But Tolstoy takes the other view, and values the emotions aroused by art entirely for their reaction upon actual life, a view which he courageously maintains even when it leads him to condemn the whole of Michelangelo, Raphael and Titian, and most of Beethoven, not to mention nearly everything he himself has written, as bad or false art. Such a view would, I think, give pause to any less heroic spirit. He would wonder whether mankind could have always been so radically wrong about a function that, whatever its value be, is almost universal. And in point of fact he will have to find some other word to denote what we now call art. Nor does Tolstoy’s theory even carry him safely through his own book, since, in his examples of morally desirable and therefore good art, he has to admit that these are to be found, for the most part, among works of inferior quality. Here, then, is at once the tacit admission that another standard than morality is applicable. We must therefore give up the attempt to judge the work of art by its reaction on life, and consider it as an expression of emotions regarded as ends in themselves. And this brings us back to the idea we had already arrived at, of art as the expression of the imaginative life. If, then, an object of any kind is created by man not for use, for its fitness to actual life, but as an object of art, an object subserving the imaginative life, what will its qualities be? It must in the first place be adapted to that disinterested intensity of contemplation, which we have found to be the result of cutting off the responsive action. It must be suited to that heightened power of perception which we found to result therefrom. And the first quality that we demand in our sensations will be order, without which our sensations will be troubled and perplexed, and the other quality will be variety, without which they will not be fully stimulated. It may be objected that many things in nature, such as flowers, possess these two qualities of order and variety in a high degree, and these objects do undoubtedly stimulate and satisfy that clear{20} disinterested contemplation which is characteristic of the æsthetic attitude. But in our reaction to a work of art there is something more—there is the consciousness of purpose, the consciousness of a peculiar relation of sympathy with the man who made this thing in order to arouse precisely the sensations we experience. And when we come to the higher works of art, where sensations are so arranged that they arouse in us deep emotions, this feeling of a special tie with the man who expressed them becomes very strong. We feel that he has expressed something which was latent in us all the time, but which we never realised, that he has revealed us to ourselves in revealing himself. And this recognition of purpose is, I believe, an essential part of the æsthetic judgment proper. The perception of purposeful order and variety in an object gives us the feeling which we express by saying that it is beautiful, but when by means of sensations our emotions are aroused we demand purposeful order and variety in them also, and if this can only be brought about by the sacrifice of sensual beauty we willingly overlook its absence. Thus, there is no excuse for a china pot being ugly, there is every reason why Rembrandt’s and Degas’ pictures should be, from the purely sensual point of view, supremely and magnificently ugly. This, I think, will explain the apparent contradiction between two distinct uses of the word beauty, one for that which has sensuous charm, and one for the æsthetic approval of works of imaginative art where the objects presented to us are often of extreme ugliness. Beauty in the former sense belongs to works of art where only the perceptual aspect of the imaginative life is exercised, beauty in the second sense becomes as it were supersensual, and is concerned with the appropriateness and intensity of the emotions aroused. When these emotions are aroused in a way that satisfies fully the needs of the imaginative life we approve and delight in the sensations through which we enjoy that heightened experience, because they possess purposeful order and variety in relation to those emotions. One chief aspect of order in a work of art is unity; unity of some kind is necessary for our restful contemplation of the work of art as a whole, since if it lacks unity we cannot contemplate it in its entirety, but we shall pass outside it to other things necessary to complete its unity.{21} In a picture this unity is due to a balancing of the attractions to the eye about the central line of the picture. The result of this balance of attractions is that the eye rests willingly within the bounds of the picture. Dr. Denman Ross of Harvard University has made a most valuable study of the elementary considerations upon which this balance is based in his “Theory of Pure Design.” He sums up his results in the formula that a composition is of value in proportion to the number of orderly connections which it displays. Dr. Ross wisely restricts himself to the study of abstract and meaningless forms. The moment representation is introduced forms have an entirely new set of values. Thus a line which indicated the sudden bend of a head in a certain direction would have far more than its mere value as line in the composition because of the attraction which a marked gesture has for the eye. In almost all paintings this disturbance of the purely decorative values by reason of the representative effect takes place, and the problem becomes too complex for geometrical proof. This merely decorative unity is, moreover, of very different degrees of intensity in different artists and in different periods. The necessity for a closely woven geometrical texture in the composition is much greater in heroic and monumental design than in genre pieces on a small scale. It seems also probable that our appreciation of unity in pictorial design is of two kinds. We are so accustomed to consider only the unity which results from the balance of a number of attractions presented to the eye simultaneously in a framed picture that we forget the possibility of other pictorial forms. In certain Chinese paintings the length is so great that we cannot take in the whole picture at once, nor are we intended to do so. Sometimes a landscape is painted upon a roll of silk so long that we can only look at it in successive segments. As we unroll it at one end and roll it up at the other we traverse wide stretches of country, tracing, perhaps, all the vicissitudes of a river from its source to the sea, and yet, when this is well done, we have received a very keen impression of pictorial unity. Such a successive unity is of course familiar to us in literature and music, and it plays its part in the graphic arts. It depends upon{22} the forms being presented to us in such a sequence that each successive element is felt to have a fundamental and harmonious relation with that which preceded it. I suggest that in looking at drawings our sense of pictorial unity is largely of this nature; we feel, if the drawing be a good one, that each modulation of the line as our eye passes along it gives order and variety to our sensations. Such a drawing may be almost entirely lacking in the geometrical balance which we are accustomed to demand in paintings, and yet have, in a remarkable degree, unity. Let us now see how the artist passes from the stage of merely gratifying our demand for sensuous order and variety to that where he arouses our emotions. I will call the various methods by which this is effected, the emotional elements of design. The first element is that of the rhythm of the line with which the forms are delineated. The drawn line is the record of a gesture, and that gesture is modified by the artist’s feeling which is thus communicated to us directly. The second element is mass. When an object is so represented that we recognise it as having inertia we feel its power of resisting movement, or communicating its own movement to other bodies, and our imaginative reaction to such an image is governed by our experience of mass in actual life. The third element is space. The same sized square on two pieces of paper can be made by very simple means to appear to represent either a cube two or three inches high, or a cube of hundreds of feet, and our reaction to it is proportionately changed. The fourth element is that of light and shade. Our feelings towards the same object become totally different according as we see it strongly illuminated against a black background or dark against light. A fifth element is that of colour. That this has a direct emotional effect is evident from such words as gay, dull, melancholy in relation to colour. I would suggest the possibility of another element, though perhaps it is only a compound of mass and space: it is that of the inclination to the eye of a plane, whether it is impending over or leaning away from us.{23} Now it will be noticed that nearly all these emotional elements of design are connected with essential conditions of our physical existence: rhythm appeals to all the sensations which accompany muscular activity; mass to all the infinite adaptations to the force of gravity which we are forced to make; the spatial judgment is equally profound and universal in its application to life; our feeling about inclined planes is connected with our necessary judgments about the conformation of the earth itself; light, again, is so necessary a condition of our existence that we become intensely sensitive to changes in its intensity. Colour is the only one of our elements which is not of critical or universal importance to life, and its emotional effect is neither so deep nor so clearly determined as the others. It will be seen, then, that the graphic arts arouse emotions in us by playing upon what one may call the overtones of some of our primary physical needs. They have, indeed, this great advantage over poetry, that they can appeal more directly and immediately to the emotional accompaniments of our bare physical existence. If we represent these various elements in simple diagrammatic terms, this effect upon the emotions is, it must be confessed, very weak. Rhythm of line, for instance, is incomparably weaker in its stimulus of the muscular sense than is rhythm addressed to the ear in music, and such diagrams can at best arouse only faint ghost-like echoes of emotions of differing qualities; but when these emotional elements are combined with the presentation of natural appearances, above all with the appearance of the human body, we find that this effect is indefinitely heightened. When, for instance, we look at Michelangelo’s “Jeremiah,” and realise the irresistible momentum his movements would have, we experience powerful sentiments of reverence and awe. Or when we look at Michelangelo’s “Tondo” in the Uffizi, and find a group of figures so arranged that the planes have a sequence comparable in breadth and dignity to the mouldings of the earth mounting by clearly-felt gradations to an overtopping summit, innumerable instinctive reactions are brought into play.[3] {24} At this point the adversary (as Leonardi da Vinci calls him) is likely enough to retort, “You have abstracted from natural forms a number of so-called emotional elements which you yourself admit are very weak when stated with diagrammatic purity; you then put them back, with the help of Michelangelo, into the natural forms whence they were derived, and at once they have value, so that after all it appears that the natural forms contain these emotional elements ready made up for us, and all that art need do is to imitate Nature.” But, alas! Nature is heartlessly indifferent to the needs of the imaginative life; God causes His rain to fall upon the just and upon the unjust. The sun neglects to provide the appropriate limelight effect even upon a triumphant Napoleon or a dying Cæsar.[4] Assuredly we have no guarantee that in nature the emotional elements will be combined appropriately with the demands of the imaginative life, and it is, I think, the great occupation of the graphic arts to give us first of all order and variety in the sensuous plane, and then so to arrange the sensuous presentment of objects that the emotional elements are elicited with an order and appropriateness altogether beyond what Nature herself provides. Let me sum up for a moment what I have said about the relation of art to Nature, which is, perhaps, the greatest stumbling-block to the understanding of the graphic arts. I have admitted that there is beauty in Nature, that is to say, that certain objects constantly do, and perhaps any object may, compel us to regard it with that intense disinterested contemplation that belongs to the imaginative life, and which is impossible to the actual life of necessity and action; but that in objects created to arouse the æsthetic feeling we have an added consciousness of purpose on the part of the creator, that he made it on purpose not to be used but to be regarded and enjoyed; and that this feeling is characteristic of the æsthetic judgment proper. When the artist passes from pure sensations to emotions aroused by means of sensations, he uses natural forms which, in themselves,{25} are calculated to move our emotions, and he presents these in such a manner that the forms themselves generate in us emotional states, based upon the fundamental necessities of our physical and physiological nature. The artist’s attitude to natural form is, therefore, infinitely various according to the emotions he wishes to arouse. He may require for his purpose the most complete representation of a figure, he may be intensely realistic, provided that his presentment, in spite of its closeness to natural appearance, disengages clearly for us the appropriate emotional elements. Or he may give us the merest suggestion of natural forms, and rely almost entirely upon the force and intensity of the emotional elements involved in his presentment. We may, then, dispense once for all with the idea of likeness to Nature, of correctness or incorrectness as a test, and consider only whether the emotional elements inherent in natural form are adequately discovered, unless, indeed, the emotional idea depends at any point upon likeness, or completeness of representation. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource "An Essay in Aesthetics" Description An account of the resource An essay by Roger Fry on form and emotion in aesthetics. It was originally published in the April 1909 issue of "The New Quarterly," a serial published by the secretary to the first Post-Impressionist exhibition and fellow Bloomsbury Group member, Desmond MacCarthy. The essay was later published in a collection of Fry's essays titled "Vision and Design". Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Roger Fry Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Hathi Trust https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=umn.31951p00953927n&view=1up&seq=1 Type The nature or genre of the resource Essay Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Hathi Trust https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=umn.31951p00953927n&view=1up&seq=1 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1909 April Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rosemary Frehe Fry https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/1a21d33861365574e1c60993ef87df6e.jpg 48c663806adf31c72ac290cf6066b5d7 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appendix A: Aesthetic Context Description An account of the resource Information on the aesthetic context for To the Lighthouse Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rosie Frehe and Grace Watkins Type The nature or genre of the resource Text and still image Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available various Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Pamela Caughie Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data cupboard Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource "Giraffe Cupboard," ca.1915-16 Description An account of the resource A cupboard with giraffe motifs designed by British artist Roger Fry, dated ca. 1915-16. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Roger Fry Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Art Fund https://www.artfund.org/supporting-museums/art-weve-helped-buy/artwork/1888/-cupboard Type The nature or genre of the resource cupboard Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Art Fund https://www.artfund.org/supporting-museums/art-weve-helped-buy/artwork/1888/-cupboard Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource ca. 1915-16 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rosemary Frehe artwork Fry https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/bbe3f2b7ed4e92b7a975f8fc21d7925e.jpg bd70244ae3c538ca531f7cf72abce366 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appendix A: Aesthetic Context Description An account of the resource Information on the aesthetic context for To the Lighthouse Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rosie Frehe and Grace Watkins Type The nature or genre of the resource Text and still image Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available various Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Pamela Caughie Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data textile design Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource "Clouds," 1931 Description An account of the resource An abstract textile design by British artist Duncan Grant, dated 1931. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Duncan Grant Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Charleston https://www.charleston.org.uk/product/oil-cloth-clouds-duncan-grant/ Type The nature or genre of the resource textile design Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Charleston https://www.charleston.org.uk/product/oil-cloth-clouds-duncan-grant/ Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1931 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rosemary Frehe artwork Grant https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/cf56bb807fc948bf8b7ade5bff089fdc.JPG f6a43c5e0729dae3f9244a481e5edc84 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/2c8669f217b377b19ec14f14cb7881af.JPG e75494062f86ef7d617e9b1a0a7d3a61 https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/0a7b539d845a361bc9897533b8b0c0d1.JPG 2f2bfde1cebee3d586b418524a2be8fc https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/ccfb900fb636b9cf4a70a0abe4e3c92b.JPG 3d9d701b5086912b3c95b63234a267b7 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appendix A: Aesthetic Context Description An account of the resource Information on the aesthetic context for To the Lighthouse Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rosie Frehe and Grace Watkins Type The nature or genre of the resource Text and still image Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available various Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Pamela Caughie Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data foreward or exhibition catalog Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Foreward to Vanessa Bell exhibition, 1930 Description An account of the resource Virginia Woolf wrote the foreward to an exhibition catalog of her sister Vanessa Bell's recent works in 1930. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Virginia Woolf Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The British Library https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/vanessa-bell-exhibition-catalogue-with-an-essay-by-virginia-woolf Type The nature or genre of the resource foreward to exhibition catalog Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The British Library https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/vanessa-bell-exhibition-catalogue-with-an-essay-by-virginia-woolf Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1930 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rosemary Frehe and Grace Watkins Bell https://ctsdh.org/ENGL433/files/original/617b3c0c21aa7f1b452897f0e47ae447.jpg fcbdfccf06d04475a187a2463c9910e0 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appendix A: Aesthetic Context Description An account of the resource Information on the aesthetic context for To the Lighthouse Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rosie Frehe and Grace Watkins Type The nature or genre of the resource Text and still image Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available various Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Pamela Caughie Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data painting Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource "Virginia Woolf," ca. 1917 Description An account of the resource A portrait of the author Virginia Woolf by British artist Roger Fry, dated ca. 1917. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Roger Fry Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wikimedia https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Roger_Fry_-_Virginia_Woolf.jpg Type The nature or genre of the resource artwork Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Wikimedia https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Roger_Fry_-_Virginia_Woolf.jpg Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource ca. 1917 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rosemary Frehe artwork Fry