The fact remains, however, that the percentage of the population which
is affected by systematic education is, and is likely to remain,
very, very small. The artistic regeneration of the world would be a
very slow process if it depended entirely upon the existence of a
definite desire for education. Before any one will come into contact
with educational institutions he must have attained to a relatively
high standard of appreciation and he must be endowed already with
considerable enthusiasm for art. The greater problems are clearly:
(_a_) how to increase the interest of those who are almost if not
entirely indifferent to the point when they _will_ desire systematic
instruction; and (_b_) how to benefit those who will never (maybe
_can_ never) reach even that stage, or who will prefer to “educate
themselves”.
As a preliminary to this it will be well to examine some of the causes
of low taste. Why is it that millions enjoy _When it’s Night-time in
Italy_, but are bored to tears by the Schumann _A minor Concerto_? Why
should _The Bat_ have power to thrill them when _Macbeth_ leaves them
cold? Why, in short, do they prefer the least good to the best? I will
not say “worst,” because nothing is bad which artistically can give
pleasure and morally is not evil.
The obvious reason, which most of us would give glibly, is that these
people are intellectually and spiritually incapable of appreciating
good art. How far this is true, and how far the other reasons I shall
give are responsible, I would not care to suggest. Very probably it is
true in the large majority of cases. In a world the majority of whose
inhabitants are quite incapable of thinking intelligently or logically
about the most important influences in their lives, where politics
and religion and the fundamental human relationships are governed by
ignorant prejudices and irrational habits, where a large proportion of
men are mentally and physically below par, can we expect every man and
woman to possess the latent ability to embrace the beautiful? However
that may be, this obstacle to artistic education can be removed only
by the sociologist, the educationist, the moralist, and the biologist.
We who are concerned with the artistic factor can duly presuppose the
existence, now or to-morrow, of a germ of artistic impulse, since we
can only influence those who are capable.
Secondly, as we noticed before, the greater familiarity and
accessibility of the low grade is a potent hindrance to development.
Thirdly, we must remember that the average man seeks recreation when
he embraces art. He may have degraded his idea of the recreational and
come to think that unless an experience “livens him up” or “takes him
out of himself” it is not suitable recreation. The fact remains that as
a rule he is unwilling to give the matter any sustained thought (even
though exercising his mind might be a great change from the routine
of manual labour), and he is satisfied if the day’s leisure is passed
pleasantly. The idea of sustained, cumulative recreation, such as is
gained by the real lover of any art, when the pleasure of to-day adds
to the recreative value of that of to-morrow, when each experience
makes the following keener and more lasting, never occurs to him.
Again, he is conservative and play for safety. Any improvement in taste
would involve stepping on to fresh ground, and he is not prepared to do
that. Somehow--generally by observing the likes and dislikes of people
of similar mentality--he has discovered “what he likes”, and he sees
no reason why he should take any risks. That is largely why he goes to
see farces, reads detective yarns or tales of the wild and woolly West,
and patronizes ballad-concerts and music-halls, but would never dream
of venturing into a repertory theatre or a classical concert, or of
reading a different type of book. His time, he thinks, and his money,
are too precious for excursions into the unknown.
That alone would be sufficient deterrent, but, in addition, it sets up
prejudices. He does not want to explore, yet he has (subconsciously,
of course) to justify his conservatism. This he does by raising an
imaginary barrier between the things he knows he likes and the things
he doesn’t know anything at all about and _might_ not like. When he
is brought face to face with the unknown, rather than confess his
ignorance and lack of enterprise, even to himself, rather than admit
that his tastes are low, he jumps to the conclusion that he is wise to
be wary and that there must be some good reason for his attitude. Thus
he sets his mind at rest by retarding its development.
Unfortunately there are outside influences which strengthen these
prejudices. For instance, too many of those who appreciate, or pretend
to appreciate, the best are apt to set themselves apart and to insist
that there is an unbridgeable gulf between their art and that of the
common herd. The average man hates this highbrow snobbery and hates,
too, everything they are supposed to care for, since it is tarred with
the same brush.
Then, again, attempts to “improve” his taste for him generally arouse
his ire and invoke further prejudices--mainly because the would-be
improvers do not go the right way to work. It is not at all difficult
to realize that, since we all regard art as matter for the exercise
of taste, which is an individual prerogative--there is no absolute
scale of artistic values, though there is a general consensus of
educated opinion--the man who will readily accept the judgement of his
intellectual superiors will not so readily accept the opinions of the
artistically better informed.
Then, it is by no means easy to persuade the artistically uneducated
that there is any need for education. He thinks that the enjoyable
aspects of art are fairly obvious and that there is no point in looking
beyond the obvious unless he is seeking for some extra-artistic
element--some intellectual or spiritual value. As he is only seeking
enjoyment, why should he waste time looking for anything else? It
must, therefore, be made quite clear to him that the chief aim of the
educationist is to increase his pleasure in art and that there is no
ulterior motive. Unfortunately the methods of many teachers (and here
I include all publicists and would-be popularizers) are not such as to
give this impression.
Much teaching has been misguided. For example, for some obscure reason
critics and teachers frequently fail to discriminate between the
“absolute” and the “historical” value of the classics. They delight in
praising work which has little claim to our interest other than its
antiquity. They confront the bewildered seeker for enjoyable beauty
with volumes of extracts from “The Great Writers”, collections of the
Hundred Best Books, etc., than which nothing more ungodly, more dreary,
uninspired, unworthy, and unbeautiful could possibly be found. They
should know better, these people! Why will they do it? Almost as bad
are those who go to the opposite extreme and hail with acclamation the
newest, most unintelligible phantasies born of a craving for novelty.
I am not exaggerating, though certainly the position is improving
wonderfully. But, of the books written twenty years ago and earlier
with the presumable intention of stimulating interest in literature
and art, certainly half would have antagonized the ordinary man--had
he bothered about them at all, which he didn’t. The critic may say
that he is not concerned with improving the taste of the man in
the street. Undoubtedly he has other tasks besides those of the
popularizer; much of his work can appeal only to the artistically
educated and it would be dangerous for him to devote an undue share
of his energies to this work. Nevertheless, he should more often cast
aside the highbrow attitude and any idea that the needs of the ordinary
man are unworthy of his consideration. The example, in the realms of
science, of such men as J. A. Thomson, Lankester, and others equally
unlikely to devote their energies to any but a good cause, should help
to dispel this illusion. We badly need writers who, without being
namby-pamby, superior, or academic, can help the man with the germ of
interest, writers who can point to the ascending steps in the ladder
of taste. Theirs is not an easy task. In the first place, they must be
_themselves_ interesting, for only a minority are willing to read books
with an ulterior motive. The actual popularizing books must provide
recreation and enjoyment as well as stimulation.
In this connection it might be remarked that we are too ready to throw
stones at the writer who tries to bring his literary abilities within
the range of a wide public. He is accused of playing to the gallery,
of prostituting his art, of thinking of his royalties, and so on. Might
not a writer capable of attaining heights on which only a minority
could join him be rendering a better service to humanity at large by
sometimes choosing to give the majority the best they can appreciate?
And the competent conscientious workmen who, though they may not hope
or desire to rank with the greatest, give the public something which
it desires and understands, and which is nevertheless much better than
anything else of the same kind that it would read, render a finer
service than we are willing to admit.
Secondly, the popularizer must not rob his public of its self-respect
or unduly destroy its faith in its own judgment in artistic matters. To
do so is to open up another source of prejudice and to raise a fresh
obstacle to enjoyment, for he who loses faith in his own opinions, who
is told that he should put no trust in his own judgment, endeavours to
embrace the artistic standards of others. This he cannot do, but he
begins to read books, and so on, from a sense of duty--because he has
been told that everybody ought to read so and so--and then to become a
liar and a hypocrite, to pretend to others that he enjoys books when he
doesn’t, to imagine to himself that he does when he doesn’t, so wasting
his opportunities and stunting his latent capabilities. With the right
kind of education his tastes and opinions would improve gradually
and without his noticing the difference. Although his taste would be
improving, all the time he would be following his own judgment, and so
he would always enjoy his contact with art.
The popularizer who would approach the subject in the most
fruitful way will realize that the lower forms of art are purely
recreational--excepting of course that some activities have physical
values also. The ethical, spiritual, and intellectual aspects are not
developed until we reach a higher level. Therefore, if he is going to
lead to better things any one to whom art has been synonymous with
pure recreation, he must do so by utilizing the recreative element in
the better. For example, the educated reader seeks in Shakespeare the
statement of philosophical and moral ideas, beauty of language and
aptness of phraseology, the delineation of character, and the like.
But what is the good of pointing out these qualities to a man as a
reason why he should go to a Shakespearian performance rather than to a
farce or a melodrama, to one who is, as yet, only seeking recreation?
Tell him instead that _Twelfth Night_ is a good farce and _Macbeth_ a
good melodrama--as they undoubtedly are; rid his head of the idea that
Shakespeare is primarily something else, something much more “brainy”
and stodgy; try to instil in him the motive that filled the old Globe
with an audience which is the exact counterpart of our own uneducated
pleasure-seeking theatre-goers, and Shakespeare would become more
popular. Contact with his work would undoubtedly improve taste and the
appreciation of Shakespeare’s other qualities. Shakespeare was popular
in his own time because he enjoyed the reputation of being a good
entertainer. He isn’t popular to-day because the average man has been
taught by misguided people to regard him as a great writer. Of course
there are other reasons, but that is a most important one.
Yet another cause of low taste is the prevalent lack of the ability
to concentrate. Enjoyment of the better types of art involves
concentration, not only because it must be cumulative, but also because
great art is generally built round an ampler theme than that which is
of only temporary appeal. If the artist deals with a big subject, he
must have room. If he avoids substance, he economizes, condenses, and
concentrates his production. Whichever course he adopts, the reader
or spectator must give him greater--either more extended or more
intense--attention maybe both.
Education will improve powers of concentration; but, on the other hand,
it depends upon this ability. Therefore the psychological factor must
be considered by all educationists. They must prepare ladders leading
by easy stages from the purely enjoyable and insignificant to the
serious and significant, but it is not enough that the steps should
involve only gradual intellectual and aesthetic progress. They must
require also only a gradual increase in concentration.
The chief aim of education and popularization must be, however, to
increase the realization of the function of art--which is (though art
may fulfil other purposes) to provide enjoyment, enjoyment in its
highest, most spiritual form maybe, yet nevertheless enjoyment. For
the pursuit of art is the pursuit of the beautiful, especially the
beautiful which is of man’s creation. If this pursuit cannot give
pleasure, the fault must be ours, since the “beautiful” which cannot
give pleasure to any is not beautiful. The converse, that anything
which gives pleasure is beautiful, is certainly _not_ true, but,
whatever our philosophical or moral criteria of beauty may be, they
must include the pleasure giving property.
We need, nevertheless, to question ourselves whether this factor is
not only ignored but sometimes even suppressed by some educationists.
There are so many things in this world of imperfectly developed men and
women that give pleasure and are most unbeautiful, that we hesitate
to class our precious goods in the same category lest they be tarred
with the same brush. Yet we must do so. There is much that goes by the
name of Love which is but lust, greed, pride of possession, avarice,
habit, perversion, and waste, but we are not tempted to pretend that
genuine human affection is not love because it is something better than
the rest. So we must not be tempted to deny that art is essentially a
source of pleasure simply because it is the source of the finest, most
lasting, pleasure. To do so is to alienate those who are most in need
of its influence.