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Page 64
Now further, Mechanical Toil is bred of that hurry and
thoughtfulness of civilisation of which, as aforesaid, the middle
classes of this country have been such powerful furtherers: on the
face of it it is hostile to civilisation, a curse that civilisation
has made for itself and can no longer think of abolishing or
controlling: such it seems, I say; but since it bears with it
change and tremendous change, it may well be that there is something
more than mere loss in it: it will full surely destroy art as we
know art, unless art newborn destroy it: yet belike at the worst it
will destroy other things beside which are the poison of art, and in
the long run itself also, and thus make way for the new art, of
whose form we know nothing.
Intelligent work is the child of struggling, hopeful, progressive
civilisation: and its office is to add fresh interest to simple and
uneventful lives, to soothe discontent with innocent pleasure
fertile of deeds gainful to mankind; to bless the many toiling
millions with hope daily recurring, and which it will by no means
disappoint.
Imaginative work is the very blossom of civilisation triumphant and
hopeful; it would fain lead men to aspire towards perfection: each
hope that it fulfils gives birth to yet another hope: it bears in
its bosom the worth and the meaning of life and the counsel to
strive to understand everything; to fear nothing and to hate
nothing: in a word, 'tis the symbol and sacrament of the Courage of
the World.
Now thus it stands to-day with these three kinds of work; Mechanical
Toil has swallowed Intelligent Work and all the lower part of
Imaginative Work, and the enormous mass of the very worst now
confronts the slender but still bright array of the very best: what
is left of art is rallied to its citadel of the highest intellectual
art, and stands at bay there.
At first sight its hope of victory is slender indeed: yet to us now
living it seems as if man had not yet lost all that part of his soul
which longs for beauty: nay we cannot but hope that it is not yet
dying. If we are not deceived in that hope, if the art of to-day
has really come alive out of the slough of despond which we call the
eighteenth century, it will surely grow and gather strength and draw
to it other forms of intellect and hope that now scarcely know it;
and then, whatever changes it may go through, it will at the last be
victorious, and bring abundant content to mankind. On the other
hand, if, as some think, it be but the reflection and feeble ghost
of that glorious autumn which ended the good days of the mighty art
of the Middle Ages, it will take but little killing: Mechanical
Toil will sweep over all the handiwork of man, and art will be gone.
I myself am too busy a man to trouble myself much as to what may
happen after that: I can only say that if you do not like the
thought of that dull blank, even if you know or care little for art,
do not cast the thought of it aside, but think of it again and
again, and cherish the trouble it breeds till such a future seems
unendurable to you; and then make up your minds that you will not
bear it; and even if you distrust the artists that now are, set
yourself to clear the way for the artists that are to come. We
shall not count you among our enemies then, however hardly you deal
with us.
I have spoken of one most important part of that task; I have prayed
you to set yourselves earnestly to protecting what is left, and
recovering what is lost of the Natural Fairness of the Earth: no
less I pray you to do what you may to raise up some firm ground amid
the great flood of mechanical toil, to make an effort to win human
and hopeful work for yourselves and your fellows.
But if our first task of guarding the beauty of the Earth was hard,
this is far harder, nor can I pretend to think that we can attack
our enemy directly; yet indirectly surely something may be done, or
at least the foundations laid for something.
For Art breeds Art, and every worthy work done and delighted in by
maker and user begets a longing for more: and since art cannot be
fashioned by mechanical toil, the demand for real art will mean a
demand for intelligent work, which if persisted in will in time
create its due supply--at least I hope so.
I believe that what I am now saying will be well understood by those
who really care about art, but to speak plainly I know that these
are rarely to be found even among the cultivated classes: it must
be confessed that the middle classes of our civilisation have
embraced luxury instead of art, and that we are even so blindly base
as to hug ourselves on it, and to insult the memory of valiant
people of past times and to mock at them because they were not
encumbered with the nuisances that foolish habit has made us look on
as necessaries. Be sure that we are not beginning to prepare for
the art that is to be, till we have swept all that out of our minds,
and are setting to work to rid ourselves of all the useless luxuries
(by some called comforts) that make our stuffy art-stifling houses
more truly savage than a Zulu's kraal or an East Greenlander's snow
hut.
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