THE BOOKFELLOW.

Evening Post, Volume LXXIX, Issue 118, 21 May 1910, Page 9

THE BOOKFELLOW.

Written for The Post, by A. G. Stephens. (Copyright. — All Rights Reserved.) THREE DOGMAS OF ART. Every man measures his own univei'se of' art. If Dick does not agree with Tom, or Tom with Harry, Dick's failure to pronounce Tom's shibboleth need not be a crime in Harry's eyes. Himself, Harry does not say sibboleth, as Dick ; he says shibbohleth. Both Dick and Tom may agree that a Harry who says shibbohleth should go to Invcrcargill. As between You and Me, everything but your taste is unjustified to You, everything but mine to Me. For You, and for Me Wo may argue and grow impassioned, we may buttress our opinions with those of celebrated critics ; but, unless our opinions, are changed, nothing is changed. We enlarge our ideals, emotions, language ; we pass the time pleasantly or otherwise ; yet, if we do not agree, simply we do not agree. Only the disagreement is settled. If Dick persists in preferring "Casla Diva" to the tune the»old cow died of, there is no end to crown Tom's disputatious labour. Dick being what he is, and Harry what he is, the best for each is — the best for each. The only worst in art is hypocrisy. THE EXALTATION OF 'ARKY. More power to the elbow of unaspirated Harry who "doesn't pretend to know much about it ; but knows what he likes" ! — more glory to his vulgarian halo ! " His taste is evil . to be sure ; or we may say so; but if your good is Harry's evil, then "Evil, be thou my good" is Harry's inexpugnable fortress. All than can be demanded of Harry is that, when he expresses himself, he should express himself — instead of pattering second-hand praises of a lost Leader when the thing he really cares about is getting his revenge from Tom at bridge. This is the realm of taste, of course. W-hether Amy Castles does or does not sing out of tune is a question of fact, for the right ears, at ths wrong moment. Yet we all persist, as a Court of Arbitration, in endeavouring to apply a common rule to the industry a rule will not fit; or, as moral regenerators, in endeavouring to save the State from the vice we have no inclination for. Why? Because, as said, it is pastime; because "Order is Heaven's first law," and an instinct of humanity abhors odd socks ; because another instinct of humanity aids the other sinner to repentance, thus confirming our sense of moral superiority to the other sinner ; and because, in order to live, we have to spend our lives in emphasising Ego in its own Is. The first dogma of Art is "Every man for himself" — and there isn't any hindmost. SOLVITUR AMBULANDO. The second dogma of Art declares that your Art must be true to Poll. Or to Moll, or Bet, or Cis, or Suke. It doesnU matter what you do, as long as you do it— to somebody. It doesn't, matter what you think, as long as you thought is not transferred. It is the guile of Art to look like a noun. Really it is a verb, always transitive, always in the imperative .mood, always in the present tense. The action must, pass now. But its methods of transition are illimitable ; and as long as it transits, and entrances, at this particular speck of the bank and shoal of Time, never mind the means .' There are no rules but tho result. Transform an urge of the object into a surge of tho subject, and "What is Art?" is answered. "Admire!" says Art to Poll. "Adore !" to Moll. "Worship !" to Bet and Sue. And if they do, the Art is tru?. if one of them does the Art is true for one. One believer makes one artistic divinity. Naturally a hundred believers multiply the divinity by a hundred. The greater the audience, the greater the artist — at the moment. That is the point where Marie Corelli refuses to abide our question and is 2s 6d and 5s 6d. On the wings of enthusiastic devotees she is exalted to the loftiest seat in the Pantheon. .All very well to deny her title; but you cannot disprove it. For yourself, certainly; for a million others, possibly ; but not for the true believers, the nvyiiad. These avow the ecstasies, they show the stigmata, the wounds made by "The Sorrows of Satan," the heart pierced by the arrow of "Barabbaij" — and those wounds are evidence of the author's Art. She has accomplished the transit of Minerva, her message has passed. _ Nor is it to be argued that the emotion of a humble serving-wench is artistically inferior to that of Lady Clara. These are gracious drops, whoever sincerely sheds them. Aristotle Himself could not get out of the impapsc. ART IN DEED. All roads lead from Art to Rome ; and as long as you reach Rome, it do-es not matter how— it is Rome indeed for yiu and room enough for every misbegotten theory that has helped you thither. A fruit-tree is justified by its fruits; a form of Art by its effects. Sir Robert Stout i-o delighted by Miss Maud Poacocke's verses : very well, then, Sir Robert Stout is delighted. What ha.-, the measure of my own much lesser satisfaction to do with the measure of Sir Robert's '! The Art is true to Poll ; and Moll can only lament deaf ears, a;:d extol another Siren's hong. As long as we all praise rome kind of t>oa-j, with a full heart and glowing epithets, the spark of godhead is manifest in any head. So many men, so many altars of incense ; the spice is variety of Art. A New. Zealand correspondent sends six stanzas entitled "Searching," and asks in effect why are these six stanzas inferior to any other six stanzas. Here is the first stanza : "Will ye not answer mo now, Seas, mountains, woods, and ye men? Whence are ye; wherefore; and how Como yo hither to vanish again?" The argument answers the question. Beauty is in the eye oi the gazer ; poetry in tho mind of tbe reader : f=ix stanzas like this are as good as any other six stanzas if the reader honestly believes they aie ; but my belief is only good for me. Every man must save his own artistic soul ; there is no doctrine of vicarious justification in Art. "For (he people that like this kind of thing, this is just the f kind of thing that these people like"— and they are quite right to like it A NEW ZEALAND CORRESPONDENT. Quite right; and tpeairing seriously. If I imply my own disapprobation, I do not impose my disapprobation upon a New Zealand correspondent. If I am asked to justify my disapprobation, I reply that I am excused by the argument. If I am asked to set argument aside, and wander at large in the field of iaste, I can only reply that to my ear the manner of the stanzas is not melodious, and that to my mind the niattcr doesn't matter — it isn't "amusing"' in Rossetti's sense. If it still be demanded "Why?" I can only answer "That is the way that life and books have built me." Why is grandfather's musket not a modern rifle? — I being courteously the musket. Why is a mosquito not a mammal with a vote for No-license? — I being pacifically the mosquito. Why is this not that or the other? If queries are pushed thus far t

the hard-pressed commentator on th* first stanza must answer with a third dogma of Art : Every question under the sun Has its own answer, or it has nono. Or else with the third stanza of a New; Zealand correspondent : "On the crest of the billow I pause To con over familiar things. But their maker? their purpose? their cause ?—? — No answer such questioning brings." Or else, as Mary, Hannah, and Jane said a century ago, and as Gladys, Doris, and Phyllis are saying now: "Just because !" WORDS AND SONGS OF THE OPERA. The operatic quarrel is portion of tha grand quarrel of Art and the Man ; and, as long as the ideal flies above the veal, the possible exceeds the practicable, there need be no pretence of corn-posing the quarrel. Yet certain tentative conclusions may bo indicated as emerging from the strife. There are two things an opera should achieve : it should .maintain its interest, and should preserve its illusion. And then, to the interest and illusion, what importance has the libretto? has thelanguage of the libretto? Libretto makes all the difference to the composer, who fits his music to the words and emotions, and nowadays to the words aud ideas. But to the audience? Admit that a solo can be sung so thait every word is audible, and a duet, perhapsi a trio,. even a quartet — what about a fasttime chorus, or a chorus singing 2-4 and 6-8 together, as the- soldiers and students in "Faust?" There is a legend! that, at the Paris Opera the openingchorus in "Robert le Diable" tised alwiaj's to be sung to tho words, "Cabbage soup is made in the pot; in the pot wa make cabbage soup."" La sonpe aux choux se fait tians ia mnrraitc; Dans, la marmite on fait la soupe aus choux. Given the unintelligibility of the chorus, are not these words as good ac any others? J And, given the unintelligibility of the chorus, are not- Italian words better t'hnn English? There are English words that do not hiss and choke and stumble* among consonants, yet v«a get them rarely on the concert platform, hardly ever in opera. The most important cperatiu word of all, "love," cannot be Bung ia English with the quality of tone thai, a singer can put into the Italian "amore,"' or with the delicate breathing cf tha French "amour," or even with tho deep sonority of the German "Hebe." Why. then, lose musical virtue for the sake of a meaning which is tisually unattainable? If the plot is known, and the acting is good, the music is its own language. ENGLISH VERSUS ITALIAN. • The Williamson Opera Company is singing English, to tho distress cf the Italian members of Mie company, who in some cases have to get by heart -the English words while barely comprehending their meaning. • This -.voree confounds confusion; and the point is that even the English words are seldom heard. It is true that the audience is supposed to hear, and it docs hear a little, sometime* more than a lititlc, usually enough to help understanding of the scene. But at what a cost! Every Italian is singing under a double distress — the original distress of the English., and the secondary distress of his partial comprehension of the English-. Musically, therefore, the performances are not nearly aa good as they might be, with tlhe same material. Tho debate is as old as Addison, who pleasantly satirised the mixed opsra of his day, when the Italian singers sang Italian and the English singers sang English. While we depend on It-Uy for opera, and Australasia for audiences, the debate is likely to beendleas. But musical ddreotors might h& asked to reform either their la-w or our nature : either to make their English libretti sonorous v.it 1 - a cunning choice of words, or els« to m-vke us capable cf understanding an Italian libretto by rein.forcenKmt of the actors' intelligence. Operatic gesture can be at least as expresiive as the affectionate gestures of Pirncli in face of Judy.