The yellow book, an illustrated quarterly. Vol. 2, July 1894

English literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Great Britain -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals

And he is right, after all--if he only knew it. The business of art is
to create for us fine interests, to make of our human nature a more
complete thing: and thus, all great art is moral in the wider and the
truer sense of the word. It is precisely on this point of the meaning
of the word "moral" that we and our ogre part company. To him,
morality is concerned only with the established relations between the
sexes and with fair dealing between man and man: to him the subtle,
indirect morality of Art is incomprehensible.

Theoretically, Art is non-moral. She is not interested in any ethical
code of any age or any nation, except in so far as the breach or
observance of that code may furnish her with material on which to
work. But, unfortunately, in this complex world of ours, we cannot
satisfactorily pursue one interest--no, not even the interest of Art,
at the expense of all others--let us look that fact in the face,
doggedly, whatever pangs it may cost us--pleading magnanimously for
the survival of our moral ogre, for there will be danger to our cause
when his voice is no more heard.

If imitation be the sincerest form of flattery, then our moral ogre
must indeed have experienced a proud moment, when a follower came to
him from the camp of the lovers of Art, and the artistic objector to
realistic fiction started on his timid career. I use the word timid in
no disparaging sense, but because our artistic objector, had he
ventured a little farther from the vicinity of the coat-tails of his
powerful protector, might have secured a more adequate recognition of
his performances. For he is by no means devoid of adroitness. He can
patter to us glibly of the "gospel of ugliness"; of the "cheerlessness
of modern literature"; he can even juggle with that honourable
property-piece, the maxim of Art for Art's sake. But there have been
moments when even this feat has proved ineffective, and some one has
started scoffing at his pretended "delight in pure rhythm or music of
the phrase," and flippantly assured him that he is talking nonsense,
and that style is a mere matter of psychological suggestion. You fancy
our performer nonplussed, or at least boldly bracing himself to brazen
the matter out. No, he passes dexterously to his curtain effect--a
fervid denunciation of express trains, evening newspapers, Parisian
novels, or the first number of THE YELLOW BOOK. Verily, he is a
versatile person.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

General

The yellow book, an illustrated quarterly. Vol. 2, July 1894

English literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Great Britain -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals

And he is right, after all--if he only knew it. The business of art is
to create for us fine interests, to make of our human nature a more
complete thing: and thus, all great art is moral in the wider and the
truer sense of the word. It is precisely on this point of the meaning
of the word "moral" that we and our ogre part company. To him,
morality is concerned only with the established relations between the
sexes and with fair dealing between man and man: to him the subtle,
indirect morality of Art is incomprehensible.

Theoretically, Art is non-moral. She is not interested in any ethical
code of any age or any nation, except in so far as the breach or
observance of that code may furnish her with material on which to
work. But, unfortunately, in this complex world of ours, we cannot
satisfactorily pursue one interest--no, not even the interest of Art,
at the expense of all others--let us look that fact in the face,
doggedly, whatever pangs it may cost us--pleading magnanimously for
the survival of our moral ogre, for there will be danger to our cause
when his voice is no more heard.

If imitation be the sincerest form of flattery, then our moral ogre
must indeed have experienced a proud moment, when a follower came to
him from the camp of the lovers of Art, and the artistic objector to
realistic fiction started on his timid career. I use the word timid in
no disparaging sense, but because our artistic objector, had he
ventured a little farther from the vicinity of the coat-tails of his
powerful protector, might have secured a more adequate recognition of
his performances. For he is by no means devoid of adroitness. He can
patter to us glibly of the "gospel of ugliness"; of the "cheerlessness
of modern literature"; he can even juggle with that honourable
property-piece, the maxim of Art for Art's sake. But there have been
moments when even this feat has proved ineffective, and some one has
started scoffing at his pretended "delight in pure rhythm or music of
the phrase," and flippantly assured him that he is talking nonsense,
and that style is a mere matter of psychological suggestion. You fancy
our performer nonplussed, or at least boldly bracing himself to brazen
the matter out. No, he passes dexterously to his curtain effect--a
fervid denunciation of express trains, evening newspapers, Parisian
novels, or the first number of THE YELLOW BOOK. Verily, he is a
versatile person.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

The yellow book, an illustrated quarterly. Vol. 2, July 1894

The yellow book, an illustrated quarterly. Vol. 2, July 1894

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