A strenuous state of mind is always partial and special， sacrificing scope to intensity and more fitted for execution than insight.It is useful at times， but if habitual cuts us off from that sea of subconscious spirit from which all original power flows."The world of art，" says Paul Bourget， speaking of America， " requires less self-consciousness梐n impulse of life which forgets itself， the alternations of dreamy idleness with fervid execution.".So Henry James remarks that we have practically lost the faculty of attention， meaning， I suppose， that unstrenuous， brooding sort of attention required to produce or appreciate works of art梐nd as regards the prevalent type of business or professional mind this seems quite true.
It comes mainly from having too many things to think of， from the urgency and distraction of an epoch and a country in which the traditional structures that support the mind and save its energy have largely gone to pieces.The endeavor to supply by will functions that in other conditions would be automatic creates a rush which imitation renders epidemic， and from which it is not easy to escape in order to mature one's powers in fruitful quiet.
There is an immense spiritual economy in any settled state of society， sufficient， so far as production is concerned， to offset much that is stagnant or oppressive； the will is saved and concentrated； while freedom， as De Tocqueville noted， sometimes produces " a small， distressing motion， a sort of incessant jostling of men， which annoys and disturbs the mind without exciting or elevating it." The modern artist has too much choice.
If he attempts to deal largely with life， his will is overworked at the expense of aesthetic synthesis.Freedom and opportunity are without limit， all cultures within his reach and splendid service awaiting performance.
But the task of creating a glad whole seems beyond any ordinary measure of talent.The result in most cases梐s has been said of architecture 梚s "confusion of types， illiterate combinations， an evident breathlessness of effort and striving for effect， with the inevitable loss of repose， dignity and style." A mediaeval cathedral or a Greek temple was the culmination of a long social growth， a gradual， deliberate， corporate achievement， to which the individual talent added only the finishing touch.
The modern architect has， no doubt， as much personal ability， but the demands upon it are excessive；it would seem that only a transcendent synthetic genius of the calibre of Dante could deal adequately with our scattered conditions.
The cause of strain is radical and somewhat feverish change， not democracy as such.A large part of the people， particularly the farming class， are little affected by it， and there are indications that in America， where it has been greater than elsewhere， the worst is now over.
By commercialism， in this connection， we may understand a preoccupation of the ability of the people with maserial production and with the trade and finance based upon it.This again is in part a trait of the period， in part a peculiarity of America， in its character as a new country with stumps to get out and material civilization to erect from the ground up.
The result of it is that ability finds constant opportunity and incitement to take a commercial direction， and little to follow pure art or letters.
A man likes to succeed in something， and if he is conscious of the capacity to make his way in business or professional life， he is indisposed to endure the poverty， uncertainty and indifference which attend the pursuit of an artistic calling.Less prosperous societies owe something to that very lack of opportunity which makes it less easy for artistic ability to take another direction.
An even greater peril is the debasing of art by an uncultured market.
