Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol. 7

IN ancient times, during the Roman ascendency, there was a great rhetorician, Longinus by name. According to him the greatness of any writing lies in how far it echoes the inner Self. The more developed is the soul of a poet the higher will be the poetic genius. An immature soul can hardly soar very high.

A modern English critic,¹ who appreciated this view, remarked that the present-day artistic creations are mostly insignificant and futile, for the modern world is wanting in highly developed souls. .

Not to speak of a really great soul, we have almost forgotten in these days the meaning of creation by the inner soul. The source of inspiration nowadays is the brain or the nerves or a mixture of the two in different proportions. Intellectual curiosity and nervous excitement and hunger have enveloped the whole sphere of life, consciousness and being. Anything else of deeper significance has sunk into the abyss of oblivion. In one word, 'Art for Art's sake' has been the present-day principle in the field of artistic creation. The artist does not care for any extrinsic ideal or aim. He finds his ideal and aim in himself. He grows of himself, he establishes himself and he realises himself in his own creation. Far from seeking an ideal, even beauty is no longer the aim of art. What is art? The creation of the artist. Who is the artist? He who creates himself. Very well; but what does the word 'self' signify? There's the rub. Everything

¹ F. L. Lucas, The Decline and Fall of the Romantic Ideal.

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depends on this. In ancient times the word 'self' used to signify either the Psycqic Being, which is the delegate of the Supreme Self, or the Supreme Self Itself – "Know Thyself". In modern times 'self' signifies something exoteric, the surface consciousness acting through the brain and nerves.

The moderns hold that the essence of art and artistic creation consists in complete expression of one's own self, but like the Virochana of the Upanishad, who took the body for the Self, they have applied the word 'self' to mean the consciousness acting through the nerves. But it must be admitted that they have exceeded Virochana by one step, going either within or above. They have discovered an intermediate link between the physical sheath and the higher supra-physical. In ancient times 'self' would always signify the Psychic Being and never the self-centered body.

The moderns may ask: "Is it obligatory that one should have a great soul in order to be, a great poet?" In the hoary past it was almost so. Valmiki, Vyasa and Homer rightly deserve to fall into that category. But the ancient Latin Catullus, the French poet Villon of the medieval age, most of the 'Satanic' poets of the Romantic age, and Oscar Wilde and Rimbaud of the present age – none of them are great souls or possess anything remarkably spiritual in their nature. But on that score can we ever deny or belittle their poetic genius? True, ethics and aesthetics are two radically different things, At times these two may act together. Aesthetics may come into prominence from time to time under the guidance of ethics or take its support. But there is no indivisible relation between the two.

It is here that a great confusion arises for the admirers of ethics and those of 'aesthetics. Ethics signifies morality, an ideal life and a correct conduct in one's dealings with others. But, as 'a matter of fact, we do not look upon the nature of the Psychic Being or the inner Self in that way. It is something deeper and higher than morality. Even in the absence

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of morality and good conduct the virtue of the inner Self can remain unimpaired. The virtue of the inner Self does not necessarily depend upon the good qualities of one's character. The Psychic Being is the true nature of the inherent consciousness in the being. Its manifestation may not take place in one's outer conduct or one's day-to-day activities, but it can be discerned in a peculiar turn of one's nature. Byron, in his outer life, was very uncomely and violent. But it was that self-same Byron who stood forth for the oppressed and offered his life for their freedom. Byron here represents the inner magnanimous heart. It is here, in this poetic utterance, that the urge of his inner Self has manifested itself:

Jehova's vessels hold

The godless Heathen's wine!

In his artistic creation the poet's inner Self comes to the fore. That is why it is said that the subject-matter and the way of expressing it are nothing but the real Being in the poet. The outer manifestation of this Being is of course diverse and manifold. The inner soul of Shakespeare is wide and magnanimous. It has, as it were, the quality of water. It takes up the form of that very vessel in which it is put and assumes the colour thereof. Milton's inner Being represents height, density, weight and seriousness. Dante's inner Being represents intensity, virility and Tapasya (askesis). Kalidasa's inner Being represents beauty, while that of the Upanishadic seers represents luminosity.

The truth of the inner Being escapes both character and morality. It can be grasped only through one's manners which reflect the innate nature of the inner Being. In the absence of decorum vulgarity looms large. For countless mistakes a man may be pardoned. But the vulgarity in one's manners takes man away from his status of manhood. Similarly if manners – the influence of the inner Being–

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are visible in the artistic creation, then despite many minor flaws it will look beautiful, great and precious.

In fact, we never find vulgarity in the artistic creation of any true artist. Baudelaire, Verlaine, Oscar Wilde – these creators who dived deep into the very core of natural experiences never for once lost the decorum of their inner Being. Vulgarity has no place in their language, in the expression of their creativity. The style Baudelaire adopted was purely classical – 'aristo'. On the other hand, there are moralists and religious people who badly lack the virtue of the inner Being. In all their activities rusticity and lack of culture are in abundance. The fragrance of the inner Being can neither be learnt nor acquired. It comes down with man from another world – "cometh from afar" – its manifestation takes place only in man's refined taste. Vulgarity is always wanting in genuine taste. It is, as it were, a gross tongue that gives almost an equal value to the juice of a grape and that of a corn-seed.

It is really deplorable that the ideal of vulgarity, the King of kings in expressing vulgar ideas, is an Indian. His name must needs be mentioned, for his creations are replete with vulgarity and they are spread all around like poisonous air. It is not that at present he lacks disciples and worshippers. Now who is that notability? He is our Ravi Varma. Curiously enough, his themes are mostly taken from the Puranas, that is to say, his heroes and heroines are the gods and goddesses. But what of that? He has seen them in his own light – with the eyes of an ultra-modern vulgarian. Just recollect to your memory his painting, The Descent of the Ganges. What does Mahadeva look like? He is a great wrestler like Gama or Kikkar Singh but with matted hair, wearing a tiger skin; he stands gazing at the sky with his legs apart. And the river Ganges? A film star with her hair dishevelled jumps out of an aeroplane and glides down! And colour? It is sheer gaudiness. I do not know if the vivid expression of vulgarity has attained a better perfection

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anywhere else than in the works of Ravi Varma. No doubt, there is a plebeian literature as well as a plebeian art which is simple to the extreme. These are the immature creations of the immature creator, who do not make a high claim to display in their creations. Neither do they have any ambition to do so. They express perfectly what they are. But in the painting of Ravi Varma there is an extravagant endeavour to display something infinitely more than what one actually possesses. So the presence of vulgarity is simply unbearable, nay, past correction.

Verily the greatness of the poet is the greatness of the inner consciousness. And the expression of his inner consciousness is the essence of his poetic creation. So long as this inner consciousness is vigilant and active in the poet, his creations and activities never suffer in manners. His creations will not be vitiated by gross touches. He alone is a great poet whose consciousness is hardly clouded, although it is said that even 'Homer nods'; to me the lesser poet is he who at times breaks through the cloud, and a non-poet is he who is ever strongly shrouded with indelible cloud.

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