Personality in Literature | Page 4

realities, exactly
this, that mysticism may be translated into logic?" Logic, for Mill, was

only the hand-servant of that art which is concerned, not with
"imaginations" only, but with realities. And it was in the same spirit
that Matthew Arnold laid down his decisive verdict that literature is a
criticism of life, that it may be subjected to a "universal" estimate, and
that the standard is "the best that has been said and thought in the
world."
But in recent years there has been a revolt against the idea of standards
or authority in art. Art has always been conceived as something which
affords pleasure; but now it is conceived as that which affords pleasure
to anyone. The democracy, now that it has become literate, claims the
right of private judgment, equality for its members even in matters of
art. And in a sense it is right. Nothing should be or can be acclaimed as
beautiful unless it appears beautiful to the spectator. There is no
criterion of beauty outside the perception of beauty. For each man, that
only is beautiful which affords him the experience of beauty; and
whatever does afford him that experience has given him the æsthetic
pleasure which is the true pleasure of art. But there are many
pleasurable thrills which have nothing to do with beauty or with art.
That is why Mr. Balfour surely is wrong when he suggests that the
youthful delight in blood-curdling adventures is an "enjoyment of what
is Art, and nothing but Art." But I agree that we are confronted with an
antinomy which seems hard enough to overcome--on the one hand art
is only good because some people have judged or felt it to be good; on
the other hand all sincere critics are convinced that some works are
absolutely good, that their excellence is beyond reasonable challenge,
and that those who do not perceive this excellence are lacking in
fineness of perception.
The anarchistic side of the paradox is put in its crudest form by Mr.
Balfour. It has been put in perhaps its finest and truest form by Mr.
Henry James:
Art is the one corner of human life in which we may take our ease. To
justify our presence there the only thing demanded of us is that we shall
have felt the representational impulse. In other connections our
impulses are conditioned and embarrassed; we are allowed to have only

so many as are consistent with those of our neighbours; with their
convenience and well-being, with their convictions and prejudices,
their rules and regulations. Art means an escape from all this. Wherever
her shining standard floats the need for apology and compromise is
over; there it is enough simply that we please or are pleased. There the
tree is judged only by its fruits. If these are sweet the tree is
justified--and not less so the consumer.... Differences here are not
iniquity and righteousness; they are simply variations of temperament,
kinds of curiosity. We are not under theological government.
It is true; in art, at least, we are "not under theological government,"
and that was a maxim worth asserting at a time when the dicta of
Matthew Arnold and Ruskin were being converted into shibboleths. It
is necessary for happiness no less than for honesty that we should
realise that poetry, music, and pictures are personal things; that what
they are worth to us is their sole measure of value. And here it must be
mentioned that Mr. Balfour puts forth two hints which are inconclusive
enough, but which do dimly suggest a truer way of escape than that to
which his argument leads. He notes, first of all, that art is disinterested;
that it is not a means, but an end in itself. And, secondly, we feel
towards beautiful things as we feel towards persons; if they are
congenial we may like or love them, though we can assign no ground
for our preference.
If the analogy were pursued it might lead to something like a solution
of the difficulty. For all fine art is beautiful expression; it is
self-expression; it is the expression of something which the artist
perceives. If it strikes an answering chord in us we are satisfied; and
that fact of response means a community of perception, of æsthetic
knowledge, between the artist and the recipient, something perhaps
which is dragged from the depths of our duller natures but which burst
forth in expression from the artist with his quicker and more apt
perception. But let it be noted that there could be no such response or
sympathy conveyed from one to another by a symbol unless there were
some real bond, some existent principle possessed in common. Art is
communicative, but not surely a communication of nothing. It
communicates something which is