New-York tribune., 1922-03-17
Ellis Island Art
Copyright. 1929, New York Tribune Inc,
By Royal Cortissoz

very core of serious work. Consider
merely this matter Of the approach to
art, the humbly industrious ambition
from which great art springs. Four
hundred years ago that hard-bitten
realist Niccolo Machiavell, working
on his sinister political treatise, "The
Prince said in a letter to his friend
Fettori some words which are those OF
literary man, but which happen to
express exactly the idea we have in
mind. He said:
The evening being come, return
home and go to my study; at the en-
trance I pull of my peasant-ciothes,
covered with dust and dirt. and put
on my noble court dress and thus be
comingy re-clothed / pass into the
ancient courts Of the men OF old
where. being lovingly received by
them, am fed with that food which
is mine alone: where do not hesi-
tate to speak with them and to ask
for the reason Of their actions. and
they, in their bengnity. answer ne,
and for four hours ] feel no weari-
ness, | forget every trouble, poverty
does not dismay. death does not ter
rfy me; | am possessed entirely by
those great men.
There speaks the artist, disclosing
the profound reverence for his craft
which belongs to every faithful follow
er Of the muses., whether he use the pen
or the brush. And there is passage
in Sir Joshua Reynolds, in his famous
fourteenth discourse. the one he de-
lvered after the death Of Gains bor-
ough. which may fitly be cited here
In the study of our art" he SAYS. "as
in the study of all arts, something is
the result OF our own observation of
nature; something. and that not
little. the effect of the example of those
who have studied the same nature be-
fore US and who have cultivated before
US the same art with diligence and
success How modest that is! With
what thoughtfulness does Reynolds
proceed upon his task! Like Machia-
velli, who not only re-clothes his body
but cleanses his mind. he attunes him
self to high mission. Nobody in his
senses would expect the artist to be
perpetually rapt mystic. He is hu-
man creature, like the rest of us. But
ne nevertheless recognizes that art is
a sacred thing, not to be chucked under
the chin. He respects his meter. /
remember an old story of Walter Pater,
told me by man who knew him we'll
Pater was of the "beefy" tvpe Of
Englishman, quite John Bullish in some
OF ms tastes. He had charming time
one evening in All obscure pub and q
casual acquaintance he made there said
to him at parting: "Blimey, guvnor.
but yere strife bloke. Eve got nice
little rat pit down Mapping way and
any time yer care to come I'd be glad
to see YER. 1t is perfectly conceivable
that Pater may have accepted the invi-
tation. What he saw down Mapping
way may even have helped him to hu-
mamie the pages of "Marius." But !
am morally certain that when he sat
down to write that book he purged his
mind Of rat pits. There hangs about
modernism an atmosphere as brutal
~"NN' oS CoiiouS, hS tne1rS.
y X ~
What the modernist needs is a dras-
tic purgation of conceit and wilfulness,
thorough educational overhauling.
Turning to Whistler once more and
paraphrasing him, may say that art
is art, and modernism is, well. modern
ism. Does this, in its turn, smack of
assertion? Let US suppose wine
faster, confronted by a dozen filed
glasses. AS he passes from vintage to
vintage, distinguishing between them,
it nevers occurs to him to doubt the
fundamental nature of the most differ
ing varieties. But neither does he have
any doubts when he comes to the last
glass, tastes it, and finds that some one
has filled it with asafetida., He
spews it out with the remark that il