Euterpe; or, The future of art

by Lionel R. McColvin

Unfortunately there are outside influences which strengthen these prejudices. For instance, too many of those who appreciate, or pretend to appreciate, the best are apt to set themselves apart and to insist that there is an unbridgeable gulf between their art and that of the common herd. The average man hates this highbrow snobbery and hates, too, everything they are supposed to care for, since it is tarred with the same brush.

Then, again, attempts to “improve” his taste for him generally arouse his ire and invoke further prejudices—mainly because the would-be improvers do not go the right way to work. It is not at all difficult to realize that, since we all regard art as matter for the exercise of taste, which is an individual prerogative—there is no absolute scale of artistic values, though there is a general consensus of educated opinion—the man who will readily accept the judgement of his intellectual superiors will not so readily accept the opinions of the artistically better informed.

Then, it is by no means easy to persuade the artistically uneducated that there is any need for education. He thinks that the enjoyable aspects of art are fairly obvious and that there is no point in looking beyond the obvious unless he is seeking for some extra-artistic element—some intellectual or spiritual value. As he is only seeking enjoyment, why should he waste time looking for anything else? It must, therefore, be made quite clear to him that the chief aim of the educationist is to increase his pleasure in art and that there is no ulterior motive. Unfortunately the methods of many teachers (and here I include all publicists and would-be popularizers) are not such as to give this impression.

Much teaching has been misguided. For example, for some obscure reason critics and teachers frequently fail to discriminate between the “absolute” and the “historical” value of the classics. They delight in praising work which has little claim to our interest other than its antiquity. They confront the bewildered seeker for enjoyable beauty with volumes of extracts from “The Great Writers”, collections of the Hundred Best Books, etc., than which nothing more ungodly, more dreary, uninspired, unworthy, and unbeautiful could possibly be found. They should know better, these people! Why will they do it? Almost as bad are those who go to the opposite extreme and hail with acclamation the newest, most unintelligible phantasies born of a craving for novelty.

I am not exaggerating, though certainly the position is improving wonderfully. But, of the books written twenty years ago and earlier with the presumable intention of stimulating interest in literature and art, certainly half would have antagonized the ordinary man—had he bothered about them at all, which he didn’t. The critic may say that he is not concerned with improving the taste of the man in the street. Undoubtedly he has other tasks besides those of the popularizer; much of his work can appeal only to the artistically educated and it would be dangerous for him to devote an undue share of his energies to this work. Nevertheless, he should more often cast aside the highbrow attitude and any idea that the needs of the ordinary man are unworthy of his consideration. The example, in the realms of science, of such men as J. A. Thomson, Lankester, and others equally unlikely to devote their energies to any but a good cause, should help to dispel this illusion. We badly need writers who, without being namby-pamby, superior, or academic, can help the man with the germ of interest, writers who can point to the ascending steps in the ladder of taste. Theirs is not an easy task. In the first place, they must be themselves interesting, for only a minority are willing to read books with an ulterior motive. The actual popularizing books must provide recreation and enjoyment as well as stimulation.

In this connection it might be remarked that we are too ready to throw stones at the writer who tries to bring his literary abilities within the range of a wide public. He is accused of playing to the gallery, of prostituting his art, of thinking of his royalties, and so on. Might not a writer capable of attaining heights on which only a minority could join him be rendering a better service to humanity at large by sometimes choosing to give the majority the best they can appreciate? And the competent conscientious workmen who, though they may not hope or desire to rank with the greatest, give the public something which it desires and understands, and which is nevertheless much better than anything else of the same kind that it would read, render a finer service than we are willing to admit.

Secondly, the popularizer must not rob his public of its self-respect or unduly destroy its faith in its own judgment in artistic matters. To do so is to open up another source of prejudice and to raise a fresh obstacle to enjoyment, for he who loses faith in his own opinions, who is told that he should put no trust in his own judgment, endeavours to embrace the artistic standards of others. This he cannot do, but he begins to read books, and so on, from a sense of duty—because he has been told that everybody ought to read so and so—and then to become a liar and a hypocrite, to pretend to others that he enjoys books when he doesn’t, to imagine to himself that he does when he doesn’t, so wasting his opportunities and stunting his latent capabilities. With the right kind of education his tastes and opinions would improve gradually and without his noticing the difference. Although his taste would be improving, all the time he would be following his own judgment, and so he would always enjoy his contact with art.

The popularizer who would approach the subject in the most fruitful way will realize that the lower forms of art are purely recreational—excepting of course that some activities have physical values also. The ethical, spiritual, and intellectual aspects are not developed until we reach a higher level. Therefore, if he is going to lead to better things any one to whom art has been synonymous with pure recreation, he must do so by utilizing the recreative element in the better. For example, the educated reader seeks in Shakespeare the statement of philosophical and moral ideas, beauty of language and aptness of phraseology, the delineation of character, and the like. But what is the good of pointing out these qualities to a man as a reason why he should go to a Shakespearian performance rather than to a farce or a melodrama, to one who is, as yet, only seeking recreation? Tell him instead that Twelfth Night is a good farce and Macbeth a good melodrama—as they undoubtedly are; rid his head of the idea that Shakespeare is primarily something else, something much more “brainy” and stodgy; try to instil in him the motive that filled the old Globe with an audience which is the exact counterpart of our own uneducated pleasure-seeking theatre-goers, and Shakespeare would become more popular. Contact with his work would undoubtedly improve taste and the appreciation of Shakespeare’s other qualities. Shakespeare was popular in his own time because he enjoyed the reputation of being a good entertainer. He isn’t popular to-day because the average man has been taught by misguided people to regard him as a great writer. Of course there are other reasons, but that is a most important one.

Yet another cause of low taste is the prevalent lack of the ability to concentrate. Enjoyment of the better types of art involves concentration, not only because it must be cumulative, but also because great art is generally built round an ampler theme than that which is of only temporary appeal. If the artist deals with a big subject, he must have room. If he avoids substance, he economizes, condenses, and concentrates his production. Whichever course he adopts, the reader or spectator must give him greater—either more extended or more intense—attention maybe both.

Education will improve powers of concentration; but, on the other hand, it depends upon this ability. Therefore the psychological factor must be considered by all educationists. They must prepare ladders leading by easy stages from the purely enjoyable and insignificant to the serious and significant, but it is not enough that the steps should involve only gradual intellectual and aesthetic progress. They must require also only a gradual increase in concentration.