SUBSTITUTES FOR TAT:FINT.
TARRE are many substitutes for talent; some cheap, some dear, and all of them looking very much like the real thing at first sight. Perhaps the commonest of all the substitutes is the habit of concentration. The power to concentrate the mind is an acquirement very hard to come by. To many men it never becomes second nature, but sits always as uneasily as a strait-waistcoat. It is, as a rule, the result of sheer force of will. Within a narrow scope concentration accom- plishes so much that it is continually mistaken for talent. It has a great deal, of course, to do with specialization. So for that matter has talent. A man with a gift specializes by instinct. The man with average ability and more than average energy will probably specialize in accordance with his reason and his interest. Except in art one man will probably accomplish as much as the other, at a much greater cost however on the part of the man without talent; good substitutes are composed chiefly of energy, and involve a great expenditure and some sacrifice.
Another very useful substitute for talent is, of course, taste. People often speak as though they were the same thing, or, rather, as though taste were a talent of less than the usual value. Talent, however, involves originality, and taste involves none. A man of taste accomplishes his ends—when he accomplishes anything—by a process of elimination. He knows what not to do. In literature he often makes a moderate success. He knows how to sift his own work, dis- carding the rubbish from his output, and leaving no more that is worth having than could be found in the output of an average literary craftsman without special talent or taste, only the average man cannot separate the wheat from the tares. The critical faculty has of course an affinity with talent and simulates gifts of a practical as well as of an artistic nature. Take, for instance, the faculty for governing men—it is a pure gift, though it is often thought to depend upon birth and early surroundings. The man, however, who has lived in the governing class must be stupid if he has learned nothing from what he has seen. He has had every chance to become a critic, and he knows how to avoid offend- ing those over whom he finds himself in authority. He will have no great influence if be has no gift—far less influence than a gifted man without his opportunities of observation may attain to. But the critic knows how to avoid a show of weakness and how to act in a handsome manner. For a long time he may be supposed, and he is likely to suppose him- self, to have the real power to rule—a power which has nothing to do with so self-conscious a thing as criticism. The same thing is true of what are called social gifts. The man or woman who has had the chance to acquire what may be called social taste will for a time succeed far better socially than those who have a natural gift for pleasing their fellows. A gift is a positive thing. It will not save anyone from a mistake. It inspires rather than prevents. The saying that a man who never makes a mistake will never
make anything throws a great light upon the difference between taste and talent.
Perhaps the cheapest of all substitutes for talent is quick- ness in picking up a jargon. Any form of shibboleth is a
positive delight to some people. Like a title or a uniform it sets a man apart. It reduces this vast world in which we are such insignificant creatures to a small society in which each member is of importance. A man must have,
of course, some knowledge of a subject before he can talk of it in a manner only understood by the initiated. Enough
knowledge, however, can usually be picked up by a decently
intelligent person, who will give his mind to it, to make him safe from any very dangerous false step. Ordinary people exaggerate greatly the amount of technicality which sur- rounds and encloses, as they think, every subject about which they know little, and underrate the degree to which common sense—that light of nature in whose glare technicalities fade to nothing—can elucidate every subject. If they realized this they would never confuse the jargon-lover with the man of talent.
Odd as it may seem, mere looks are often mistaken for talent. We do not mean a particular cast of features, which is a gift as much as any talent—we mean a certain expression of face. There is a look of eagerness and intelligence which is perpetually accepted as proof of talent. Very often this look comes of nothing but the wish to please ; occasionally it is the outcome of exceptional powers of enjoyment ; and more rarely it denotes nothing at all but a hot temper. Anger, pleasure, and ambition all simulate the " divine fire," so far as appearance goes. It is a look of vivacity, and means absence of dulness, but not by any means always presence of any special gift or gifts. Unconventionality of manner, too, is often accepted as a proof of talent. There is a kind of innate eccentricity which comes out in the bearing, and which is supposed to be accompanied by talent. Eccentrics, however, are not often gifted, though they are often very good company. Nature, in making them a little different from other people, has given them, as it were, a gratis advertisement. They get many chances in life and often fill positions which would be better filled by a man of real talent.
Sympathy is continually to be seen serving as a substitute for talent, if we may call anything a substitute which is among the greatest of the qualities of the mind, though it is without creative value. In the sense of compassion sympathy is no doubt a quality of the heart rather than the head, but in its less limited significance it is almost altogether intellectual. One talent may go with much all-round stupidity, but sympathy is never found in a stupid man or woman. On the other hand, it is more often found without definite intellectual gifts than with them, and it accompanies, as a rule, an extremely even distribution of ability. The really sympathetic man shares for the time being the talent of every man of talent with whom he finds himself associated, and it is always by able men that he will be overrated. " What can a brilliant man like So-and-so see in that•very unoriginal friend of his?" says the onlooker with no talent to be understood or appreciated or reflected. This substitute for talent is as good as the real article, except that it lacks a certain driving power and that it can only flourish in association. Perhaps sympathy is in itself a talent, and should be accounted a gift.
We are inclined to think that it is more often acquired at the expense of work and attention than is often supposed. It is very much connected with what books of devotion call " detachment " : indeed it is, as a rule, the secular side of detachment. The sympathetic mind has an affinity with the religious, though they often diverge very widely in practice.
Now and then one is tempted to wonder if what we generally call gifts are not overrated. Before the God-given thing we call genius we must all, of course, fall down, but talent of a description hardly to be called first-rate often brings with it that strange disposition to restless idleness, self-centredness, and melancholy which is inaccurately described as the artistic: temperament. This temperament very often makes it nearly impossible for a man to earn his living. Good abilities, coupled with exceptional energy, are better worth having, and the sympathetic disposition is productive of far more happi- ness than the artistic. Occasionally when one encounters a talent which seems to sap the general ability, inflate the vanity, and weaken the will, one says to oneself that- a single mental gift is sometimes of the nature of a white elephant.
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