their way to the walls of some library or museum and remain there for a time; but the pressure of public common-sense will, as sure as the tides, relegate them to the art-morgue and, ultimately, to the junk-pile! Mr. Brownell's reputation, as a writer, rests largely on his admirable "French Traits." In that, he was always clear and simple. Lately, he has become so involved, so stylistic, or so mannered, in his writing, that many of his long paragraphs are irritating, because they are so obscure that they force you either to painfully grope your way slowly, from word to word, or to reread the entire paragraphs, to get the true meaning of the matter. Hence, some of his "fine writing makes difficult reading." But, now and then, when he completely forgets his idol, Style, he wings off a delightful paragraph. Here is one of his latest: For the effect of the spirit of style in a work of art is precisely to add wings to it. The effect of following any objective ideal is elevation. Uplift means first of all getting out of one's self. It appeals in this way to the imagination as adventure does. But it also involves what adventure does not, definite aspiration rather than vague enthusiasm. And this aspiration to achieve rather than to experience, to reach a goal rather than to explore the unknown, to attain the normal rather than invent the novel, springs from perceiving the existence, in the ideal sphere, of a quality for which we have no other word so apt as perfection. (Italics ours.) There are epochs in which too much attention is paid, not to good style, but to personal style, or the personal element in style. Those epochs we call interregnum-epochs. They always appear between two other, creative, epochs. That is to say: an epoch will arrive in which a national wave of emotion, of exaltation, will hunger for expression, and this in an impersonal style and manner, an epoch in which both public and artists are busy trying to realize, or to express, a national ideal, and during which there will exist a large amount of, if not complete, social harmony. During such an epoch, a general style will be created and become dominant, and personal manner will not be hectically paraded by the artists, because it will seem gross, petty, and vulgar, for a man, at that time, to obtrude himself and his particular manner, instead of trying to express the national emo tion in the impersonal style, which will, in that epoch, be everybody's manner. For, in a great creative epoch, when the nation is aroused, it is the people which speaks and not the individual; he must then sink himself in the Nation, as he does in the army in war. He must not only sing, but sing in tune. Then, peculiar notes are not wanted. The artist is then, through social pressure, forced to suppress, if not his egotism, at least any leaning towards a cacophonic ego-mania. When, then, the governing impulse of that epoch has been weakened, because the national ideals of the epoch shall have been well, or sufficiently, expressed, then comes an epoch of spiritual fatigue. National expression having had its vogue, national relaxation, and then introspection, will follow. The "Marseillaise," the grandest national anthem ever composed, having been sung enough, the people will say, "Oh! Zut alors! En voila assez!" that is: "Oh! Rats, enough of that!" And then there will begin a carnival of vaudevillianism in life and art, an epoch of triviality, even immorality, in everything. Exalting poetry and impersonal style will be at a discount, and will be, by the roughnecks in art, called "Bunk," "Old Hat," "Victorianism," etc! "Now, let's have something differHurrah for the personal! We've Then men will shout: ent! Damn the classic! sung our national song, haven't we? And say, it was a corker. What? Well, now church is over, and I'm going to the 'Bal Bullier' and have a good time. I've been constrained long enough. I am going to git my gal and 'chahuter.' Come along and see me sling my legs 'fifty ways for sunday!'" And he goes to the Bullier, and there, it is wine, women, and song, in a wild cohu-bohu, each corybant trying to be, first personal, then funny, then extravagant, even to insanity, each having his personal pose-none must be anywhere near alikehis "difference," Hellenic or Hellish, being his only true contribution to the riot of gallic gayety! During such an epoch, grandeur of style in art is kicked on the junk-pile, and Universalism in style succumbs to Individualism in manner! And this will go on until the nation gets close to the brink of dangerous weakness, when the prophets will again be listened to; or, until a war comes along, and whips the nation out An example of meticulous copying of details, yet falling short of actual truth to nature. Note that the ear is set back too far. Holbein, in his George Gisse, has less detail but more life, see Fig. 84. |