the critic as artist-第4节

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l　effect　of　art；　its　importance　to　culture；　and　its　place　in　the　formation　of　character；　had　been　done　once　for　all　by　Plato；　but　here　we　have　art　treated；　not　from　the　moral；　but　from　the　purely　aesthetic　point　of　view。　　Plato　had；　of　course；　dealt　with　many　definitely　artistic　subjects；　such　as　the　importance　of　unity　in　a　work　of　art；　the　necessity　for　tone　and　harmony；　the　aesthetic　value　of　appearances；　the　relation　of　the　visible　arts　to　the　external　world；　and　the　relation　of　fiction　to　fact。　　He　first　perhaps　stirred　in　the　soul　of　man　that　desire　that　we　have　not　yet　satisfied；　the　desire　to　know　the　connection　between　Beauty　and　Truth；　and　the　place　of　Beauty　in　the　moral　and　intellectual　order　of　the　Kosmos。　　The　problems　of　idealism　and　realism；　as　he　sets　them　forth；　may　seem　to　many　to　be　somewhat　barren　of　result　in　the　metaphysical　sphere　of　abstract　being　in　which　he　places　them；　but　transfer　them　to　the　sphere　of　art；　and　you　will　find　that　they　are　still　vital　and　full　of　meaning。　　It　may　be　that　it　is　as　a　critic　of　Beauty　that　Plato　is　destined　to　live；　and　that　by　altering　the　name　of　the　sphere　of　his　speculation　we　shall　find　a　new　philosophy。　　But　Aristotle；　like　Goethe；　deals　with　art　primarily　in　its　concrete　manifestations；　taking　Tragedy；　for　instance；　and　investigating　the　material　it　uses；　which　is　language；　its　subject…　matter；　which　is　life；　the　method　by　which　it　works；　which　is　action；　the　conditions　under　which　it　reveals　itself；　which　are　those　of　theatric　presentation；　its　logical　structure；　which　is　plot；　and　its　final　aesthetic　appeal；　which　is　to　the　sense　of　beauty　realised　through　the　passions　of　pity　and　awe。　　That　purification　and　spiritualising　of　the　nature　which　he　calls　＇Greek　text　which　cannot　be　reproduced＇　is；　as　Goethe　saw；　essentially　aesthetic；　and　is　not　moral；　as　Lessing　fancied。　　Concerning　himself　primarily　with　the　impression　that　the　work　of　art　produces；　Aristotle　sets　himself　to　analyse　that　impression；　to　investigate　its　source；　to　see　how　it　is　engendered。　　As　a　physiologist　and　psychologist；　he　knows　that　the　health　of　a　function　resides　in　energy。　　To　have　a　capacity　for　a　passion　and　not　to　realise　it；　is　to　make　oneself　incomplete　and　limited。　　The　mimic　spectacle　of　life　that　Tragedy　affords　cleanses　the　bosom　of　much　'perilous　stuff；'　and　by　presenting　high　and　worthy　objects　for　the　exercise　of　the　emotions　purifies　and　spiritualises　the　man；　nay；　not　merely　does　it　spiritualise　him；　but　it　initiates　him　also　into　noble　feelings　of　which　he　might　else　have　known　nothing；　the　word　＇Greek　text　which　cannot　be　reproduced＇　having；　it　has　sometimes　seemed　to　me；　a　definite　allusion　to　the　rite　of　initiation；　if　indeed　that　be　not；　as　I　am　occasionally　tempted　to　fancy；　its　true　and　only　meaning　here。　　This　is　of　course　a　mere　outline　of　the　book。　　But　you　see　what　a　perfect　piece　of　aesthetic　criticism　it　is。　　Who　indeed　but　a　Greek　could　have　analysed　art　so　well？　　After　reading　it；　one　does　not　wonder　any　longer　that　Alexandria　devoted　itself　so　largely　to　art…criticism；　and　that　we　find　the　artistic　temperaments　of　the　day　investigating　every　question　of　style　and　manner；　discussing　the　great　Academic　schools　of　painting；　for　instance；　such　as　the　school　of　Sicyon；　that　sought　to　preserve　the　dignified　traditions　of　the　antique　mode；　or　the　realistic　and　impressionist　schools；　that　aimed　at　reproducing　actual　life；　or　the　elements　of　ideality　in　portraiture；　or　the　artistic　value　of　the　epic　form　in　an　age　so　modern　as　theirs；　or　the　proper　subject…matter　for　the　artist。　　Indeed；　I　fear　that　the　inartistic　temperaments　of　the　day　busied　themselves　also　in　matters　of　literature　and　art；　for　the　accusations　of　plagiarism　were　endless；　and　such　accusations　proceed　either　from　the　thin　colourless　lips　of　impotence；　or　from　the　grotesque　mouths　of　those　who；　possessing　nothing　of　their　own；　fancy　that　they　can　gain　a　reputation　for　wealth　by　crying　out　that　they　have　been　robbed。　And　I　assure　you；　my　dear　Ernest；　that　the　Greeks　chattered　about　painters　quite　as　much　as　people　do　nowadays；　and　had　their　private　views；　and　shilling　exhibitions；　and　Arts　and　Crafts　guilds；　and　Pre…Raphaelite　movements；　and　movements　towards　realism；　and　lectured　about　art；　and　wrote　essays　on　art；　and　produced　their　art…historians；　and　their　archaeologists；　and　all　the　rest　of　it。　Why；　even　the　theatrical　managers　of　travelling　companies　brought　their　dramatic　critics　with　them　when　they　went　on　tour；　and　paid　them　very　handsome　salaries　for　writing　laudatory　notices。　Whatever；　in　fact；　is　modern　in　our　life　we　owe　to　the　Greeks。　Whatever　is　an　anachronism　is　due　to　mediaevalism。　　It　is　the　Greeks　who　have　given　us　the　whole　system　of　art…criticism；　and　how　fine　their　critical　instinct　was；　may　be　seen　from　the　fact　that　the　material　they　criticised　with　most　care　was；　as　I　have　already　said；　language。　　For　the　material　that　painter　or　sculptor　uses　is　meagre　in　comparison　with　that　of　words。　　Words　have　not　merely　music　as　sweet　as　that　of　viol　and　lute；　colour　as　rich　and　vivid　as　any　that　makes　lovely　for　us　the　canvas　of　the　Venetian　or　the　Spaniard；　and　plastic　form　no　less　sure　and　certain　than　that　which　reveals　itself　in　marble　or　in　bronze；　but　thought　and　passion　and　spirituality　are　theirs　also；　are　theirs　indeed　alone。　　If　the　Greeks　had　criticised　nothing　but　language；　they　would　still　have　been　the　great　art…critics　of　the　world。　　To　know　the　principles　of　the　highest　art　is　to　know　the　principles　of　all　the　arts。

But　I　see　that　the　moon　is　hiding　behind　a　sulphur…coloured　cloud。　Out　of　a　tawny　mane　of　drift　she　gleams　like　a　lion's　eye。　　She　is　afraid　that　I　will　talk　to　you　of　Lucian　and　Longinus；　of　Quinctilian　and　Dionysius；　of　Pliny　and　Fronto　and　Pausanias；　of　all　those　who　in　the　antique　world　wrote　or　lectured　upon　art　matters。　　She　need　not　be　afraid。　　I　am　tired　of　my　expedition　into　the　dim；　dull　abyss　of　facts。　　There　is　nothing　left　for　me　now　but　the　divine　＇Greek　text　which　cannot　be　reproduced＇　of　another　cigarette。　　Cigarettes　have　at　least　the　charm　of　leaving　one　unsatisfied。

ERNEST。　　Try　one　of　mine。　　They　are　rather　good。　　I　get　them　direct　from　Cairo。　　The　only　use　of　our　ATTACHES　is　that　they　supply　their　friends　with　excellent　tobacco。　　And　as　the　moon　has　hidden　herself；　let　us　talk　a　little　longer。　　I　am　quite　ready　to　admit　that　I　was　wrong　in　what　I　said　about　the　Greeks。　　They　were；　as　you　have　pointed　out；　a　nation　of　art…critics。　　I　acknowledge　it；　and　I　feel　a　little　sorry　for　them。　　For　the　creative　faculty　is　higher　than　the　critical。　　There　is　really　no　comparison　between　them。

GILBERT。　　The　antithesis　between　them　is　entirely　arbitrary。　Without　the　critical　faculty；　there　is　no　artistic　creation　at　all；　worthy　of　the　name。　　You　spoke　a　little　while　ago　of　that　fine　spirit　of　choice　and　delicate　instinct　of　selection　by　which　the　artist　realises　life　for　us；　and　gives　to　it　a　momentary　perfection。　　Well；　that　spirit　of　choice；　that　subtle　tact　of　omission；　is　really　the　critical　faculty　in　one　of　its　most　characteristic　moods；　and　no　one　who　does　not　possess　this　critical　faculty　can　create　anything　at　all　in　art。　　Arnold's　definition　of　literature　as　a　criticism　of　life　was　not　very　felicitous　in　form；　but　it　showed　how　keenly　he　recognised　the　importance　of　the　critical　element　in　all　creative　work。

ERNEST。　　I　should　have　said　that　great　artists　work　unconsciously；　that　they　were　'wiser　than　they　knew；'　as；　I　think；　Emerson　remarks　somewhere。

GILBERT。　　It　is　really　not　so；　Ernest。　　All　fine　imaginative　work　is　self…conscious　and　deliberate。　　No　poet　sings　because　he　must　sing。　　At　least；　no　great　poet　does。　　A　great　poet　sings　because　he　chooses　to　sing。　　It　is　so　now；　and　it　has　always　been　so。　　We　are　sometimes　apt　to　think　that　the　voices　that　sounded　at　the　dawn　of　poetry　were　simpler；　fresher；　and　more　natural　than　ours；　and　that　the　world　which　the　early　poets　looked　at；　and　through　which　they　walked；　had　a　kind　of　poetical　quality　of　its　own；　and　almost　without　changing　could　pass　into　song。　　The　snow　lies　thick　now　upon　Olympus；　and　its　steep　scarped　sides　are　bleak　and　barren；　but　once；　we　fancy；　the　white　feet　of　the　Muses　brushed　the　dew　from　the　anemones　in　the　morning；　and　at　evening　came　Apollo　to　sing　to　the　shepherds　in　the　vale。　　But　in　this　we　are　merely　lending　to　other　ages　what　we　desire；　or　think　we　desire；　for　our　own。　　Our　historical　sense　is　at　fault。　　Every　century　that　produces　poetry　is；　so　far；　an　artificial　century；　and　the　work　that　seems　to　us　to　be　the　most　natural　and　simple　product　of　its　time　is　always　the　result　of　the　most　self…conscious　effort。　　Believe　me；　Ernest；　there　is　no　fine　art　without　self…consciousness；　and　self…　consciousness　and　the　critical　spirit　are　one。

ERNEST。　　I　see　what　you　mean；　and　there　is　much　in　it。　　But　surely　you　would　admit　that　the　great　poems　of　the　early　world；　the　primitive；　anonymous　collective　poems；　were　the　result　of　the　imagination　of　races；　rather　than　of　the　imagination　of　individuals？

GILBERT。　　Not　when　they　became　poetry。　　Not　when　they　received　a　beautiful　form。　　For　there　is　no　art　where　there　is　no　style；　and　no　style　where　there　is　no　unity；