Whether one look on a Sargent or on a Poynter, on a Rodin or on a Brock, on a Vuillard or on a Maurice Denis, on an Alfred East or on a Monet, the question in one's heart will be; not, why are these men so poor? but, why are they so modest?—why are they so humble?—why, in fact, are their voices so obsequiously servile and faint? One will ask: not, why do these men paint or mould as they do? but, why do they paint or mould at all?
Ugliness, in the sense of amorphousness, one will be able to explain. Ugliness, in this sense, although its position in Art has not yet been properly accounted for, one will be able to classify perfectly well. But this tremulousness, this plebeian embarrassment, this democratic desire to please, above all, this democratic disinclination to assume a position of authority,—these are things which contradict the very essence of Art, and these are the things which are found in the productions of almost every European school to-day.
But, as a matter of fact, to do artists justice, beneath all the tremendous activity of modern times in both branches of the art we are discussing, there is, among the thinking members of the profession, a feeling of purposelessness, of doubt and pessimism, which is ill concealed, even in their work. The best of these artists know, and will even tell you, that there are no canons, that individuality is absolute, and that the aim of all their work is extremely doubtful, if not impossible to determine. There is not much quarrelling done, or hand-to-hand scuffling engaged in; because no one feels sufficiently firm on his own legs to stand up and oppose the doctrine that "there is no accounting for tastes." A clammy, deathlike stillness reigns over the whole of this seething disagreement and antagonism in principles. Not since Whistler fired his bright missiles into the press has the report of a decent-sized gun been heard; and this peace in chaos, this silence in confusion, is full of the suggestion of decomposition and decay.
"Art appears to be surrounded by the magic influence of death," says Nietzsche, "and in a short time mankind will be celebrating festivals of memory in honour of it."[45]
With but one or two brilliant exceptions, that which characterizes modern painting and modern sculpture is, generally speaking, its complete lack of Art in the sense in which I shall use this word in my next lecture. This indeed, as you will see, covers everything. For the present purpose, however, let it be said that, from the Nietzschean standpoint, the painters and sculptors of the present age are deficient in dignity, in pride, in faith, and, above all, in love.
They are too dependent upon environment, upon Nature, to give a direction and a meaning to their exalted calling; they are too disunited and too lawless to be leaders; they are in an age too chaotic and too sceptical to be able to find a "wherefore" and a "whither" for themselves; and, above all, there are too many pretenders in their ranks—too many who ought never to have painted or moulded at all—to make it possible for the greatest among them to elevate the Cause of Art to its proper level.
No æsthetic canon is to be seen or traced anywhere; nobody knows one, nobody dares to assert one. The rule that tastes cannot be disputed is now the only rule that prevails, and, behind this rule, the basest, meanest and most preposterous individual claims are able to make their influence felt.
Certainly, it is true, there is no accounting for tastes; but, once a particular taste has revealed itself it ought to be possible to classify it and to point out where it belongs and whither it is going to lead. Undoubtedly a man's taste cannot be taken from him, because its roots are in his constitution; but, once he has identified himself with a particular form of taste, it ought to be possible to identify him too,—that is to say, to realize his rank and his value.
If it is impossible to do this nowadays, it is because there is no criterion to guide us. It will therefore be my endeavour to establish a criterion, based upon Nietzsche's æsthetic, and, in the course of these lectures, to classify a few forms of taste in accordance with it.
Meanwhile, however, the inquiry into the present condition of the Fine Arts must be continued; and this shall now be done by taking up the public's standpoint.