e be
the portion of those artists who would be inspired by the revolution.

Three years' experience, however, have proved the falsity of this
doctrine and led to a divorce between art and popular feeling which a
sensitive observer cannot fail to remark. It is glaringly apparent in
the hitherto most vital of all Russian arts, the theatre. The artists
have continued to perform the old classics in tragedy or comedy, and
the old-style operette. The theatre programmes have remained the same
for the last two years, and, but for the higher standard of artistic
performance, might belong to the theatres of Paris or London. As one
sits in the theatre, one is so acutely conscious of the discrepancy
between the daily life of the audience and that depicted in the play
that the latter seems utterly dead and meaningless. To some of the
more fiery Communists it appears that a mistake has been made. They
complain that _bourgeois_ art is being preserved long after its time,
they accuse the artists of showing contempt for their public, of being
as untouched by the revolutionary mood as an elderly _bourgeoise_
bewailing the loss of her personal comfort; they would like to see
only the revolutionary mood embodied in art, and to achieve this
would make a clean sweep, enforcing the writing and performance of
nothing but revolutionary plays and the painting of revolutionary
pictures. Nor can it be argued that they are wrong as to the facts: it
is plain that the preservation of the old artistic tradition has
served very little purpose; but on the other hand it is equally plain
that an artist cannot be drilled like a military recruit. There is,
fortunately, no sign that these tactics will be directly adopted, but
in an indirect fashion they are already being applied. An artist is
not to blame if his temperament leads him to draw cartoons of leading
Bolsheviks, or satirize the various comical aspects--and they are
many--of the Soviet regime. To force such a man, however, to turn his
talent only against Denikin, Yudenitch and Kolchak, or the leaders of
the Entente, is momentarily good for Communism, but it is discouraging
to the artist, and may prove in the long run bad for art, and possibly
for Communism also. It is plain from the religious nature of Communism
in Russia, that such controlling of the impulse to artistic creation
is inevitable, and that propaganda art alone can flourish in such an
atmosphere. For example, no poetry or literature th