finally to touch, is the goal we spontaneously
tend to.
Now it is different in the case of Art, and of all those aesthetic
activities, often personal and private, which are connected with Art
and may be grouped together under Art's name. Art exists to please,
and, when left to ourselves, we feel in what our pleasure lies. Art is
a free, most open and visible space, where we disport ourselves
freely. Indeed, it has long been remarked (the poet Schiller working
out the theory) that, as there is in man's nature a longing for mere
unconditioned exercise, one of Art's chief missions is to give us free
scope to be ourselves. If therefore Art is the playground where each
individual, each nation or each century, not merely toils, but
untrammelled by momentary passion, unhampered by outer cares, freely
exists and feels itself, then Art may surely become the training-place
of our soul. Art may teach us how to employ our liberty, how to select
our wishes: employ our liberty so as to respect that of others; select
our wishes in such a manner as to further the wishes of our
fellow-creatures.
For there are various, and variously good or evil ways of following
our instincts, fulfilling our desires, in short, of being independent
of outer circumstances; in other words, there are worthy and worthless
ways of using our leisure and our surplus energy, of seeking our
pleasure. And Art--Art and all Art here stands for--can train us to do
so without injuring others, without wasting the material and spiritual
riches of the world. Art can train us to delight in the higher
harmonies of existence; train us to open our eyes, ears and souls,
instead of shutting them, to the wider modes of universal life.
In such manner, to resume our symbol of the bay laurel which the
road-mender stuck on to the front of that tramcar, can our love for
the beautiful avert, like the plant of Apollo, many of the storms, and
cure many of the fevers, of life.
"NISI CITHARAM."
I.
It is well that this second chapter--in which I propose to show how a
genuine aesthetic development tends to render the individual more
useful, or at least less harmful, to his fellow-men--should begin,
like the first, with a symbol, such as may sum up my meaning, and
point it out in the process of my expounding it. The symbol is
contained in the saying of the Abbot Joachim of Flora, one of the
great precursors of St. Francis, to wit: "He that is a true monk
considers not
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