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CONTEMPORARY ART 213<br />

is tolerated by the public, there is reason to<br />

suspect that art fares ill. Since every extension<br />

lecturer knows that Raphael was part of<br />

a civilization greater than himself it seems<br />

unnecessary to treat a fashionable portraitpainter<br />

as though he were as inexplicable as<br />

an earthquake and as remote as the Matterhorn.<br />

One of the things to be desired in<br />

England is more respect<br />

reverence for artists.<br />

for art and less<br />

English literature has a great tradition the<br />

tradition of the greatest literature in the<br />

world. I say that in ignorance, to be sure,<br />

of Chinese, but not unmindful of Athenian.<br />

It would be inexact to describe that tradition<br />

as part of the main continental tradition which,<br />

since the middle of the seventeenth century,<br />

has been predominantly French, coloured in<br />

the eighteenth century by English, in the<br />

early nineteenth by German, and in the<br />

twentieth by Russian literature. Yet the<br />

English tradition, rich and splendid as it is,<br />

has never allowed itself for long to lose touch<br />

with the European current. The curious have<br />

only to turn from the works of our young<br />

writers to those of Nietzsche, Dostoievsky,<br />

Tchekov, Mallarme, Rimbaud, Laforgue, and<br />

Claudel to appreciate the sensitiveness of<br />

English literature, which has never fallen into<br />

that insularity on which our lean visual art

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