As most of us were living far from home and friends for the purpose of acquiring the rudiments4 of art, this continual sweeping5 away of our foundations was discouraging. What was the use, we sometimes asked ourselves, of toiling6, if our work was to be cast contemptuously aside by the next “school” as a pleasing trifle, not for a moment to be taken seriously? How was one to find out the truth? Who was to decide when doctors disagreed? Where was the rock on which an earnest student might lay his cornerstone without the misgiving7 that the next wave in public opinion would sap its base and cast him and his ideals out again at sea?
The eighteenth-century artists and the Italian composers had been sincere and convinced that they were producing works of art. In our own day the idol8 of one moment becomes the jest of the next. Was there, then, no fixed9 law?
The short period, for instance, between 1875 and the present time has been long enough for the talent of one painter (Bastien-Lepage) to be discovered, discussed, lauded10, acclaimed11, then gradually forgotten and decried12. During the years when we were studying in Paris, that young painter’s works were pronounced by the critics and their following to be the last development of Art. Museums and amateurs vied with each other in acquiring his canvases. Yet, only this spring, while dining with two or three art critics in the French capital, I heard Lepage’s name mentioned and his works recalled with the smile that is accorded to those who have hoodwinked the public and passed off spurious material as the real thing.
If any one doubts the fleeting13 nature of a reputation, let him go to a sale of modern pictures and note the prices brought by the favorites of twenty years ago. The paintings of that arch-priest, Meissonier, no longer command the sums that eager collectors paid for them a score of years back. When a great European critic dares assert, as one has recently, of the master’s “1815,” that “everything in the picture appears metallic14, except the cannon15 and the men’s helmets,” the mighty16 are indeed fallen! It is much the same thing with the old masters. There have been fashions in them as in other forms of art. Fifty years ago Rembrandt’s work brought but small prices, and until Henri Rochefort (during his exile) began to write up the English school, Romneys, Lawrences, and Gainsboroughs had little market value.
The result is that most of us are as far away from the solution of that vexed17 question “What is Art?” at forty as we were when boys. The majority have arranged a compromise with their consciences. We have found out what we like (in itself no mean achievement), and beyond such personal preference, are shy of asserting (as we were fond of doing formerly) that such and such works are “Art,” and such others, while pleasing and popular, lack the requisite18 qualities.
To enquiring19 minds, sure that an answer to this question exists, but uncertain where to look for it, the fact that one of the thinkers of the century has, in a recent “Evangel,” given to the world a definition of “Art,” the result of many years’ meditation20, will be received with joy. “Art,” says Tolstoi, “is simply a condition of life. It is any form of expression that a human being employs to communicate an emotion he has experienced to a fellow-mortal.”
An author who, in telling his hopes and sorrows, amuses or saddens a reader, has in just so much produced a work of art. A lover who, by the sincerity21 of his accent, communicates the flame that is consuming him to the object of his adoration22; the shopkeeper who inspires a purchaser with his own admiration23 for an object on sale; the baby that makes its joy known to a parent—artists! artists! Brown, Jones, or Robinson, the moment he has consciously produced on a neighbor’s ear or eye the sensation that a sound or a combination of colors has effected on his own organs, is an artist!
Of course much of this has been recognized through all time. The formula in which Tolstoi has presented his meditations24 to the world is, however, so fresh that it comes like a revelation, with the additional merit of being understood, with little or no mental effort, by either the casual reader, who, with half-attention attracted by a headline, says to himself, “‘What is art?’ That looks interesting!” and skims lightly down the lines, or the thinker who, after perusing25 Tolstoi’s lucid26 words, lays down the volume with a sigh, and murmurs27 in his humiliation28, “Why have I been all these years seeking in the clouds for what was lying ready at my hand?”
The wide-reaching definition of the Russian writer has the effect of a vigorous blow from a pickaxe at the foundations of a shaky and too elaborate edifice29. The wordy superstructure of aphorisms30 and paradox31 falls to the ground, disclosing fair “Truth,” so long a captive within the temple erected32 in her honor. As, however, the newly freed goddess smiles on the ignorant and the pedants33 alike, the result is that with one accord the æsthetes raise a howl! “And the ‘beautiful,’” they say, “the beautiful? Can there be any ‘Art’ without the ‘Beautiful’? What! the little greengrocer at the corner is an artist because, forsooth, he has arranged some lettuce34 and tomatoes into a tempting35 pile! Anathema36! Art is a secret known only to the initiated37 few; the vulgar can neither understand nor appreciate it! We are the elect! Our mission is to explain what Art is and point out her beauty to a coarse and heedless world. Only those with a sense of the ‘beautiful’ should be allowed to enter into her sacred presence.”
Here the expounders of “Art” plunge39 into a sea of words, offering a dozen definitions each more obscure than its predecessor40, all of which have served in turn as watchwords of different “schools.” Tolstoi’s sweeping truth is too far-reaching to please these gentry41. Like the priests of past religions, they would have preferred to keep such knowledge as they had to themselves and expound38 it, little at a time, to the ignorant. The great Russian has kicked away their altar and routed the false gods, whose acolytes42 will never forgive him.
Those of my readers who have been intimate with painters, actors, or musicians, will recall with amusement how lightly the performances of an associate are condemned43 by the brotherhood44 as falling short of the high standard which according to these wiseacres, “Art” exacts, and how sure each speaker is of understanding just where a brother carries his “mote.”
Voltaire once avoided giving a definition of the beautiful by saying, “Ask a toad45 what his ideas of beauty are. He will indicate the particular female toad he happens to admire and praise her goggle-eyes and yellow belly46 as the perfection of beauty!” A negro from Guiana will make much the same unsatisfactory answer, so the old philosopher recommends us not to be didactic on subjects where judgments47 are relative, and at the same time without appeal.
Tolstoi denies that an idea as subtle as a definition of Art can be classified by pedants, and proceeds to formulate48 the following delightful49 axiom: “A principle upon which no two people can agree does not exist.” A truth is proved by its evidence to all. Discussion outside of that is simply beating the air. Each succeeding “school” has sounded its death-knell by asserting that certain combinations alone produced beauty—the weakness of to-day being an inclination50 to see art only in the obscure and the recondite51. As a result we drift each hour further from the truth. Modern intellectuality has formed itself into a scornful aristocracy whose members, esteeming52 themselves the élite, withdraw from the vulgar public, and live in a world of their own, looking (like the Lady of Shalott) into a mirror at distorted images of nature and declaring that what they see is art!
In literature that which is difficult to understand is much admired by the simple-minded, who also decry53 pictures that tell their own story! A certain class of minds enjoy being mystified, and in consequence writers, painters, and musicians have appeared who are willing to juggle54 for their amusement. The simple definition given to us by the Russian writer comes like a breath of wholesome55 air to those suffocating56 in an atmosphere of perfumes and artificial heat. Art is our common inheritance, not the property of a favored few. The wide world we love is full of it, and each of us in his humble57 way is an artist when with a full heart he communicates his delight and his joy to another. Tolstoi has given us back our birthright, so long withheld58, and crowned with his aged59 hands the true artist.
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1
belittle
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| v.轻视，小看，贬低 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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rudiments
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| n.基础知识，入门 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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10
lauded
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| v.称赞，赞美( laud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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acclaimed
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| adj.受人欢迎的 | |
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decried
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| v.公开反对，谴责( decry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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15
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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18
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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enquiring
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| a.爱打听的，显得好奇的 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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24
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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25
perusing
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的现在分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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lucid
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| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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aphorisms
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| 格言，警句( aphorism的名词复数 ) | |
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paradox
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| n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法；自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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32
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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pedants
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| n.卖弄学问的人，学究，书呆子( pedant的名词复数 ) | |
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lettuce
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| n.莴苣；生菜 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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anathema
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| n.诅咒；被诅咒的人(物)，十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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expound
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| v.详述；解释；阐述 | |
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39
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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acolytes
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| n.助手( acolyte的名词复数 )；随从；新手；（天主教）侍祭 | |
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43
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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44
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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45
toad
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆 | |
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46
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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47
judgments
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| 判断( judgment的名词复数 )； 鉴定； 评价； 审判 | |
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48
formulate
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| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
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49
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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50
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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51
recondite
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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52
esteeming
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| v.尊敬( esteem的现在分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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53
decry
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| v.危难，谴责 | |
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54
juggle
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| v.变戏法，纂改，欺骗，同时做；n.玩杂耍，纂改，花招 | |
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55
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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56
suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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57
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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58
withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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