One of the questions which I am sometimes asked by Russians - very politely - is: 'Is Britain a cultured country?' The implication, perhaps picked up from the French, is that we are a nation of shopkeepers or traders, good at military matters and administration, but useless when the nations gather to discuss culture. As in all countries, there are plenty of philistines, but my impression of my own country is that it is packed with artistic events, many of them based on amateur involvement.
In British schools children can choose to learn a musical instrument - not just the piano or the guitar, but the violin, the clarinet, the trumpet, the horn, and so on. These lessons and the cost of the instruments are subsidized by the government. (Music teaching declined in schools, but is now being brought back as educationalists realise its importance socially, psychologically and artistically.) Many schools have flourishing orchestras as well as choirs, while the most gifted children play in full-scale concerts. They play the music of English composers - Byrd, Purcell, Elgar, Britten - but their musical repertoire is also international.
On our classical music BBC radio channel (Radio 3) which reaches everyone in the country, music from all nations is played and discussed, with plenty of time given to specialist minority tastes. The BBC also has several orchestras and promotes a huge range of classical 'Promenade Concerts' that provide music by the greatest composers and new, specially commissioned works for more than a month each summer. The cheap tickets mean that these concerts attract tens of thousands of people each year to the Albert Hall. They are also broadcast on Radio 3 for the benefit of millions of other listeners.
We are less famous for our performances of opera and ballet. But our national opera companies regularly tour to different cities, and if they have government grants (as almost all of them do) they have to provide education. So they go into schools to teach children about opera, they run workshops and master-classes, they involve the community. In fact, involving the community is one of the chief concerns of the government and charitable organisations which provide funds for the arts. So you should understand that throughout Britain, in towns and villages, amateur choirs sing in municipal halls, concert halls and churches. They sing all kinds of music; English baroque choral music, German folk songs, Italian masses, and unusual works from Eastern Asia or Latin America. Other concerts of folk music, local music, church music and the compositions of local groups can be heard in halls and pubs and cafes and outdoors at all times of the year. Some of these performances are indubitably 'amateur' with all the limitations of enthusiasm without great skill. Others are as good as many professional musicians, sometimes acquiring a national reputation. Committed performers gather together for annual festivals of music.
The English for some reason have always produced brilliant actors; even if you cannot visit our theatres you can watch the 'costume dramas' and classical productions acted for BBC television and shown throughout the world. You will not be able to join in the excitement of the live performance, but you can be sure that our actors take it for granted that they must tackle new plays and new productions of old plays. They do not make a habit of repeating performances of 40 years ago, with actors who played the same parts 40 years ago. Our National Theatre and Royal Shakespeare Company work as actors' co-operatives, thereby encouraging fine acting from everyone. Productions of Shakespeare are everywhere, not just because all schoolchildren have to study him, but because his plays work wonderfully in the theatre, arousing passionate controversy about characters and language. Shakespeare's plays can be electrically exciting - and very funny.
Soviet, and then, Russian education used to give an important place in the syllabus on foreign countries to knowing the significant people in the culture of those countries. I was impressed at the width and depth of knowledge which was expected of children in your schools - until I saw it in reality. In a Russian art gallery, I watched a school group - girls and boys aged about 11 - with their teacher. Each child had a list of names of painters. They had to find a picture by each painter and make a tick against the painter's name. So the children moved from picture to picture, checked the labels, and immediately moved on to the next one. The teacher made no suggestion that they should find a picture they liked and discuss it. I watched in horror at such a pointless exercise. (I have since seen Russian children looking at pictures, so perhaps this was an aberration.)
If you go into the British Museum or the National Gallery in London, you will find children everywhere. In the British Museum they are busy drawing Egyptian statues, copying hieroglyphics, discussing the differences between monuments in one period and another. They have paper, pencil, sometimes a list of questions to which they can find the answers only by examining the sculptures and mummies and so forth. Their teachers and the museum attendants encourage them to search for answers themselves. In the National Gallery, they will be sitting on the floor, looking for maybe ten minutes at one picture. A specialist (or their own teacher) will ask them what they enjoy about the picture; and then will point out details and techniques, and teach them to enjoy that picture more fully. Grown-ups join in too, or listen to specialist talks for adults. This impression of busy activity and curiosity is owed partly to the fact that our great national museums and art galleries are free - free to British citizens and free to foreigners. Many of us believe passionately that our national cultural collections are for everyone, and that those who come should be helped to understand them in order to enjoy them more profoundly. Millions of people do come to see our art and historical culture.
Our enthusiasm for art and art exhibitions extends far beyond the 'popular classics'. The art gallery devoted to modern and experimental art, the huge 'Tate Modern' in London has proved to be astonishingly and unexpectedly popular since it was first opened in 2000. Visitors discriminate of course; they love this, they do not understand that, they think such-and-such is rubbish. But they come back to look, to reconsider, and to extend their pleasure in new art. That pleasure has also had a boost from a number of sculptures and 'installations' set up around the countryside. These large sculptures are created by our finest contemporary artists and they provoke debate, controversy and, often, passionate delight. The one which immediately became a national icon is Anthony Gormley's 'Angel of the North'. Because of its size and its position near the main northward motorway, it has been seen, with excitement and admiration, by millions of people. (Not everyone likes it, but this huge 'angel' has become a national talking point - and a source of pride.) Perhaps what I am saying here is that we really do care for 'civic art', and we are learning to care more.
Are we are a literate nation? Inevitably our educationalists and university teachers are worried about the effects of the computer revolution on the next generation. Will our children grow up with undeveloped imaginations, virtually incapable of reading a complete book? Such questions trouble all prosperous nations. I cannot look into that future, but I can say something about adult reading at the present time in Britain.
If sales of books in relation to population count for anything, we seem to read more serious literature than almost any other nation. Thousands of new books are published every year, including literary' fiction and poetry. Novels and stories by British writers and writers in English are constantly discussed in the review sections of our national papers and on the BBC. Some of us blame ourselves for not reading very much literature in translation, although it seems to me that we can find a wider range than you can. One big difference is in the quality of translation. I can go into any decent bookshop in England and find three (or more) different translations of great Russian classics. These are modern translations that can be compared by readers and judged by specialists. None of them is perfect but the translators are professional, and expected to be thoroughly familiar with the language from which they are translated. In Russia, by contrast, your translations of English classical fiction are frequently old and inadequate, often made by people ignorant of our culture and a real understanding of our language. They cannot recognise the details such as the metaphors, the ironies, the nuances that are of the essence of a work of literature. Therefore, very often, what you read is a travesty of a fine work of English literature. We are puzzled by the lack of serious Russian literary translators who will work professionally and humbly with English colleagues in order to achieve up-to-date accurate and full translations.