{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_55334/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_55334","id":"gutenberg_55334","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55334","summary":null,"tags":["Aesthetics","Category: Art","Category: Philosophy & Ethics"],"text":"THE PHILOSOPHY OF\n\nFINE ART\n\nBY\n\nG. W. F. HEGEL\n\nTRANSLATED, WITH NOTES, BY\n\nF. P. B. OSMASTON, B.A.\n\nAUTHOR OF \"THE ART AND GENIUS OF TINTORET,\" \"AN ESSAY\nON THE FUTURE OF POETRY,\" AND OTHER WORKS\n\nVOL. I\n\nLONDON\n\nG. BELL AND SONS, LTD.\n\n1920\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE\n\n\nThe translation of Hegel's \"Aesthetik\" or \"Philosophy of Fine Art,\"\nwhich is contained in the four volumes of the present work, is the\nfirst complete translation in English of the three volumes devoted to\nthis subject in the collected edition (Berlin, 1835). I know of four\npartial translations in English of this work and one in French. These\nare Mr. W. M. Bryant's translation of Part II[1], Mr. Kedney's short\nanalysis of the entire work[2], Mr. Hastie's translation of Michelet's\nshort \"Philosophy of Art[3],\" prefaced by Hegel's Introduction, partly\ntranslated and partly summarized and lastly Professor B. Bosanquet's\ncomplete translation of Hegel's first Introduction with notes[4].\n\nThe French translation of M. B\u00e9nard purports to be more or less\na reproduction of the entire work and runs into two large-sized\nvolumes. It also is, however, so far as Hegel's Introduction and the\nfirst two Parts are concerned, merely a compressed summary, and only\nin particular passages is the translation anything but a very free\nrendering of the original, though there is a far closer approach to\nthis in Part III.\n\nI have not seen Mr. Bryant's translation. As any approach to an\nadequate reproduction of Hegel's writing Mr. Hastie's translation of\nMichelet's work and Mr. Kedney's analysis are of very little value[5].\nProfessor Bosanquet's translation is admirable within the limits\nimposed. To that extent I have merely followed, as I was able, in\nmy friend's footsteps; but this advance covers little more than one\nsixteenth part of the entire work of 1,600 pages.\n\nWith regard to all such analyses I entirely concur with Professor\nBosanquet's view stated in his preface, that such merely mislead if\nregarded as in any way a reflex of either Hegel himself or the German\ntext. It is true that this work is--as are in their degree other\nvolumes of the collected edition, the \"Outlines of the Philosophy\nof Right\" for example--a heterogeneous product, in our own instance\nnot merely lacking the final revision of the author, but rather put\ntogether as such a connected treatise by the editor responsible (i)\nfrom several autograph MSS. of Hegel[6], some of which were little\nmore than fragmentary notes for lectures, (ii) supplemented further\nfrom notes[7] taken by pupils who attended such lectures, the entire\nconglomerate being (iii) finally dovetailed together with connecting\nlinks by the editorial hand much as, to cite his own illustration, a\ncareful picture restorer might do in order to secure the impression of\na unified work, the unity aimed at by himself being rather that of a\nconnected literary treatise than a series of lectures.\n\nIt is obvious that a product of this nature will vary considerably\nthroughout in the degree that the personality and unique flavour of\nHegel himself, whether viewed as writer or thinker, asserts itself.\n\nThe introductions[8] have been, it would appear, taken almost\nexclusively from Hegel's own MSS.; but even these remained unrevised\nfor the press, owing to the premature and sudden death of their author.\n\nOf the greater portion of the work we can merely form our judgment of\nthe nature of its authenticity from the content itself. On the whole I\nshould myself say that the result was more favourable than might under\nsuch conditions have been expected. The editor assures us expressly\nthat so far as all illustrations and the substantive content of the\nwork is concerned no attempt has been made whatever to supplement the\nsame. Hegel is throughout here entirely responsible. I think, further,\nthat the endeavour claimed by the editor to preserve the general\ncharacter and tone (_Kolorit_) of Hegel's own diction has attained a\ndegree of success that could only have been within the reach of devoted\npupils and friends of the man himself, who for many years both attended\nhis lectures and studied his published works. Whatever opinion,\nhowever, we may arrive at on this head there can hardly be two opinions\nas to the sources in which the main interest consists for a modern\nreader.\n\nFirst, I should lay particular stress on the forceful and\ncharacteristic manner in which the fundamental philosophical\nconceptions which underlie the entire fabric are worked into and\nelaborated explicitly, throughout its detail. The very nature of this\nunwearied and insistent interfusion (_Durchdringung_) of positive\nfact, whether historical, scientific, or aesthetic, with the dialectic\nmovement of the Idea is here as essentially the method of Hegel as it\nis elsewhere. And this is so despite the fact that it is here presented\nfor the most part in a form less repellent to the ordinary reader and\nless provocative of hostile criticism. Translators therefore, who,\nfollowing the example of the French translator[9], deliberately seek\nto lighten the burden of their cargo by throwing overboard what they\nchoose to call the \"injurious dialectic,\" or the \"dark labyrinth\" of\nthis aspect of our work may reproduce much that is of instruction or\ninterest, but most certainly do not reproduce either the main strength\nof Hegel as a thinker, or the most characteristic impression--to say\nnothing of the repetitions--of such style or absence of literary style\nthat he possessed.\n\nSecondly, if there is one feature more striking than any other in this\nwork, which is bound at least to surprise anyone who still harbours\nthe obsolete notion that this philosopher moved in an exclusively\nabstract region of idea remote from the concrete experience of life and\nscientific or artistic knowledge, it is the wealth and extraordinary\nrange of the illustrations in these volumes no less than the vigour and\nfreshness of their application. In this respect two translations which\nmerely amount to a summary of theoretical content simply omit the vital\nor at least the most attractive heart of the interest.\n\nAs to the present claim of this laborious work to recognition and\nstudy, its historical significance is, I think, admitted by the most\nacknowledged authorities on the subject. As Schasler has called it,\nit is the first complete system of a philosophy of Art. The nature\nof its importance to our own most able and learned historian of the\nPhilosophy of Fine Art may not only be deduced from his own summary of\nits contents and significance in his invaluable historical survey[10],\nbut is further illustrated by the fact that he has reproduced the\nconcluding portion of Hegel's Introduction _in extenso_ in an Appendix\nto this work.\n\nOther writers have been less judicious both as hostile critics and in\nthe degree of their praise or enthusiasm. One German authority has\ncalled it Hegel's masterpiece. Such a title is, apart from any other\nground, sufficiently excluded by its history alone. Whether Hegel might\nhave made it his masterpiece had he lived is of course another question.\n\nOther admirers, such as the late Professor Caird[11], have more\nlegitimately accepted such a distinction for the \"Phenomenologie des\nGeistes.\" Mr. Hastie will even have it that throughout \"All is clear,\nradiant, harmonious and dim with the things that are a joy for ever.\"\nSuch an effusive display of abstract _Vorstellung_ reminds one little\nof either the dour temper of the Swabian philosopher, or the concrete\nintelligence which most distinguishes him from his rivals now and in\nhis lifetime. I can promise no such garden of Hesperides, or even\nPlatonic banquet, to any of my readers. It is true that we have here,\nthe work being primarily built upon lectures intended to instruct\nthe ordinary student, no such parade of the dialectic method in its\nformal structure such as constitutes the root of offence in some other\nworks of Hegel. But if we approach it with the belief that all is\ntherefore the plain sailing we meet with in the world of journalistic\nart criticism and the commonsense conceptions of everyday life, or\nwith the assurance that the work is, or can be, intelligible without\nsome real attempt to grapple with the fundamental ideas of Hegelian\nmetaphysic, we may find our disappointment very considerable. As a\nhumble translator I am bound to say that in a very large number of\npassages I have by no means discovered immediacy of intelligibility\nor radiance to be a conspicuous feature of the original. Radiance is\nindeed, I should say, not an attribute emphatically characteristic of\nany kind of Teutonic literature, and least of all of its scientific and\nphilosophical literature. The present work is certainly no exception.\nWith its untiring, not to say remorseless, effort to press home in\nrepeated expression, often but slightly varied, the same fundamental\npoints, its dogged and endless persistence in the careful explication\nthrough rational definition of every kind of positive material\nthat presents itself from the nature of the divine in man, or the\nsoul of living beast to the accurate determination in the terms of\nexpressed thought of a musical sound or an epigram or simile, with\nits well-nigh total disregard of the beauty of literary style, and\nits by no means unfrequent disregard of all principle of proportion\nin the co-ordination of its varied subject-matter--whatever else\nsuch a product may be it is most assuredly not, at least to English\napprehension, reminiscent of the radiance either of Homer or Apollo.\n\nBut though even sincere admiration may smile over such a description,\nit does unquestionably reflect to a remarkable extent the thoroughness,\ntenacity of purpose, the absence of superficial rhetoric, the wide\nrange, the extraordinary combination of constructive idea and detailed\nknowledge and research we rightly associate with the most valued works\nof German science and philosophy. It has never been more needful\nthan at this time of day to draw attention to such qualities, when\nthe national bias is to ignore or belittle their presence. It is,\nmoreover, not without passages which attain to a very real elevation of\neloquence, eloquence marked by the profoundest earnestness and entirely\nfree from the least flavour of bombast or sentimentalism. To the right\nkind of reader it can hardly fail to convey a certain fascination\nwhich is not merely due to the presence of a powerful and original\nintellect, but is equally inseparable from the product of a human soul\nintent upon getting at the heart of its subject, and keeping its vision\nthroughout fixed on that. Nor is the mere breadth of the canvas and the\ndepth of its content its only attraction. The work is indeed full of\ndigressions of exceptional interest to the general reader, and as such\nbears the indelible stamp of Hegel's manner as a lecturer, which his\neditor maintains stood out in such marked contrast to his more concise\nstyle as an author, drawing as he did when lecturing so largely on his\nencyclopaedic stores of knowledge.\n\nTo treat all the text as we now have it with the same respect may\nvery possibly betoken to some an excess of zeal on the part of the\ntranslator; but after all the most important thing for an English\nreader is to know what the volumes actually contain. In dealing with\nHegel the outlined sketch, whether secured through a process of\ndistillation or adulteration, is by no means any compensation for the\nloss of the complete picture. If we are impatient over many aspects of\nthis philosopher's particularity, we had much better dispense with him\naltogether.\n\nSympathetically studied it is hardly too much to say that this\nmonumental work is an education in itself. It is at any rate one which\ncannot fail to enlarge our conceptions of the significance and dignity\nof human art. Nor is this by any means impossible, even though we are\nunable to concur in, or indeed remain insufficiently qualified to\nexpress a judgment upon all or even a few of the most important of\nits conclusions. But it is perhaps not wholly unnecessary to observe\nthat before venturing upon a verdict in our wisdom we must, as Robert\nBrowning submitted in reference to the criticism passed upon his\npoetry, have awakened both our senses and intelligence \"that they may\nthe better judge.\" It is the modest aim of the present translation to\nmake that preparatory process more easy for the English reader, to\nassist that intelligent assimilation of the truth as it appears to a\ngreat and world-famous thinker, which is the necessary condition of\nany criticism meriting respectful attention at all. Such assimilation\nis perhaps impossible in the case of Hegel without effort, and indeed\nsomething of sympathy with his general outlook and temper, making as\nhe does little or no appeal whatever to the lover of literature as\nsuch, who had consequently far better leave him austerely alone to the\nconsideration of others who are more attracted.\n\nI do not propose in these prefatory remarks to enlarge further on the\nactual content of the work, or on the nature of the criticism which has\nbeen directed either to fundamental positions or matters of detail.\nSome of these I have referred to in my notes on the text where they are\nmost obviously pertinent. The general reader will find a very useful\nintroduction to some of the more primary difficulties in the study of\nHegel in Professor Bosanquet's prefatory essay to his translation.\nThe more serious student can hardly dispense with the perusal of a\nconsiderable portion of the same writer's history of Aesthetik, at\nleast that portion which directly deals with the writings of Kant,\nSchiller, Goethe, Schelling, and Hegel himself on the subject[12].\n\nI hold my translation to be as literal as is possible consistently with\nan endeavour to render or interpret German philosophical language in\nthe language or idiom of really expressive and intelligible English. It\nis now generally admitted that all translation is in the nature of an\ninterpretation. However much I may have fallen short of my aim, that\naim has been throughout to express the actual ideal content of the\nGerman, not merely with all the force and directness I could muster,\nbut with as near an approach to the formal structure of the German text\nas was consistent with the like condition of really readable English.\nAbove all I have striven to avoid the lassitude of mere paraphrase,\nthat vague generalization of content which conceives itself to possess\nthe right to eliminate from the text pretty much what it pleases.\n\nThe Index attached to the final volume is limited in its reference\nto proper names, and pre-eminently to illustrations in the text of\nworks either of general literature, or other products of art, which I\nconsidered of use or interest to the general reader.\n\nIn the table of contents to the several volumes I have notified with\nbrackets my own contributions to the German original. In all other\nrespects I have retained the divisions of subject-matter as I found\nthem recorded by Hegel or his editor.\n\nF. P. O.\n\n\n[Footnote 1: New York, Appleton and Co.]\n\n[Footnote 2: Chicago, Griggs and Co., 1885.]\n\n[Footnote 3: Edinburgh, Oliver and Boyd, 1886. The translation is\nliteral and of good quality for a little over thirty pages. After that\nit is a mere summary.]\n\n[Footnote 4: Kegan Paul, Trench and Co., 1886.]\n\n[Footnote 5: Mr. Kedney's volume only amounts to about three hundred\nsmall-sized pages altogether.]\n\n[Footnote 6: The most important source were MSS. for lectures given\nin 1820. This formed the basis of further lectures in 1823, 1826, and\n1829.]\n\n[Footnote 7: The notes to which our editor had access referred to the\nlectures given in 1823 and 1826, with others of those in 1826 and 1829.]\n\n[Footnote 8: The first Introduction is obviously taken from Hegel's\nMS., the editor not even venturing in this case to obliterate its form\nas an address in the lecture room. It represents perhaps the nearest\napproach we possess to the revised MS.]\n\n[Footnote 9: An almost inevitable defect of such a translation is that\ncriticism may be offered without supplying the material necessary for\nany satisfactory verdict upon its sufficiency. Thus M. B\u00e9nard cites\nwith approval an adverse criticism passed upon what is called Hegel's\ninadequate treatment of the Idea of Beauty as a partial manifestation\nof the absolute Idea, but barely includes any of the passages which\nrefer to this in his translation (note, p. 36). Such can lead to no\nconclusion whatever, though it obviously may entirely mislead his\nreaders.]\n\n[Footnote 10: \"History of Aesthetik,\" by Bernard Bosanquet\n(Sonnenschein, 1892). See in particular pp. 333-362. With regard to the\ncomparative value of the work of Schelling and Hegel on this subject\nthe author says (p. 334): \"It may be said that while we prefer Hegel\nto Schelling this is partly because Schelling is best represented in\nHegel.\" I can claim but a very limited firsthand knowledge of modern\nGerman works on Aesthetik. But I may observe that the section of\nL\u00f6tze's history of German works on the subject devoted to Hegel's\n\"Philosophy of Fine Art\" appears to me by no means equal in ability to\nother portions of the work. The aim of the author appears rather that\nof proving that his own researches occupy a ground wholly unoccupied\nby Hegel than of defining with any completeness the ground actually\nappropriated by Hegel.]\n\n[Footnote 11: \"Life of Hegel,\" p. 110.]\n\n[Footnote 12: The most authoritative introduction to the study of\nthe Hegelian standpoint for English readers is, of course, the late\nProfessor Wallace's Prolegomena to his translation of the lesser Logic,\nand the introduction to his translation of the Philosophy of Mind.]\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS OF VOL. I\n\n\nTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nI.  The Limits of Aesthetic defined, and certain Objections\nagainst the Philosophy of Art refuted\n\n[(_a_) Aesthetic confined to Beauty of Art\n\n(_b_)  Is Art unworthy of scientific consideration?\n\n(_c_)  Or at least is it incapable of truly philosophical\nexposition? Negative answer to both these questions]\n\nII.  Scientific Methods which apply to the Beautiful and Art\n\n[1.  The Empirical Method\n\n2.   Abstract Reflection\n\n3.   The Philosophical Idea of artistic Beauty, that is,\nthe notional concept thereof, provisionally defined]\n\nIII. The Notion of the Beauty of Art\n\nObservations upon the ordinary ideas about Art\n\n1.  The art-work is a creation of human activity\n\n[(_a_) Theory of imitation of Art by rule\n\n(_b_) Art as direct inspiration\n\n(_c_) The rank of Art relatively to Nature\n\n(_d_) The nature of the human Art-impulse]\n\n2.  The art-work is addressed to human sense\n\n[(_a_) Theory that its object is to excite feeling\n\n(_b_) The nature of artistic taste\n\n(_c_) The nature of art-scholarship as contrasted\nwith artistic taste\n\n(_d_) The more philosophical consequences of the\nfact that Art appeals to sense and requires\na sensuous medium  for its expression]\n\n3.  The End or Interest of Art\n\n[(_a_) Is it imitation of Nature?\n\n(_b_)  Is the end or content identical with the dictum,\n\"Humani nihil a me alienum,\" etc.\n\n(_c_)  How far it is a mitigation or purification of\nthe passions\n\n(_d_)  The higher object of Art which consists in\nits revelation of truth in itself]\n\nIV.  Historical Deduction of the true Notion of Art\n\n1. The philosophy of Kant\n\n[(_a_) Feeling of aesthetic satisfaction not appetitive\n\n(_b_)  Beauty an object of universal satisfaction\n\n(_c_)  Teleological aspect of the Beautiful\n\n(_d_)  Pleasure in the Beautiful necessary, though\nfelt\n\n2.  Schiller, Winckelmann, and Schelling\n\n3.  Irony]\n\nV.  Division of the Subject\n\n[1. Inquiry as to the mode under which the divisions\nof the subject arise from the notional concept\nof Beauty\n\n2.  Part I. The Ideal\n\n3.  Part II. The particular general types of Beauty\n\n(_a_)  The Symbolic type of Art\n\n(_b_)  The Classical type of Art\n\n(_c_)  The Romantic type of Art\n\n4.  Part III. The specific arts\n\n(_a_)  Architecture\n\n(_b_)  Sculpture\n\n(_c_)  Romantic art, which includes\n\n(_\u03b1_)  Painting\n\n(_\u03b2_)  Music\n\n(_\u03b3_)  Poetry\n\n5.   Conclusion]\n\n\nFIRST PART\n\nTHE IDEA OF THE BEAUTY OF ART OR THE IDEAL\n\nThe Position of Art relatively to finite Reality, Religion,\nand Philosophy\n\n[(_a_) Theory that the Beautiful is no intelligible object\nof thought\n\n(_b_) The relation of the human reason to Nature both\nempirically and speculatively\n\n(_c_) The realm of Fine Art that of the Absolute Spirit\n\n(_d_) How far Art responds to a genuine spiritual want in\nman\n\n(_e_) The truth which forms the content of art, religion,\nand philosophy differs only in the modes under\nwhich it is presented]\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE NOTION OF THE BEAUTIFUL IN GENERAL\n\n1. The Idea\n\n[(_a_) The Idea is concrete, not abstract\n\n(_b_) Objectivity is the real existence of the notion, and\nthe means whereby it is actualized\n\n(_c_) The Idea is the harmonized totality of the two aspects]\n\n2. The Determinate Existence of the Idea\n\n3.  The Idea of the Beautiful\n\n[(_a_) Not apprehended alone by the faculty of the understanding,\nor the finite categories\n\n(_b_) The nature of finite or abstract apprehension and\npractical volition considered\n\n(_c_) The object of beauty resolves and the one-sidedness\nof both standpoints in a free and infinite totality]\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE BEAUTY OF NATURE\n\nA. The Beauty of Nature as such\n\n1. The Idea as Life\n\n[(_a_) The first mode under which the notion is in\nNature asserted as objectivity is that of physical\nmatter, the ideal unity whereof is not\nfound as ideality\n\n(_b_)  A further step is the integration of natural\nobjects under a unified system, as the solar system\n\n(_c_)  The third mode is that of organic Life. This\nalone is a determinate existence of the Idea]\n\n2. The animated life of Nature as Beauty\n\n[(_a_) The motion of life considered in relation to the\nconception of beauty\n\n(_b_) The nature of organic unity, and the degree it\ncontributes to the beauty of an object\n\n(_c_) The inward unity of soul-life and the degree it\ncontributes to the correlation of parts of an\norganism, or is asserted in external form to\nour senses rather than our reflection]\n\n3. Modes under which the beauty of Nature is investigated\n\n[(_a_) Where the form is immediately in the _materia_\nas its essence or conformative energy, as in\ncrystals, or more concretely as the informing\nsoul through the living organism\n\n(_b_) Mobility in animals as a test of their apparent\nbeauty\n\n(_c_) Self-conscious life the culminating mode]\n\nB. The external Beauty of abstract Form viewed as\nUniformity, Symmetry, Conformity to Rule, and\nHarmony. Also Beauty regarded generally as\nabstract unity of the Sensuous Material\n\nC. The Defective Aspects of the Beauty of Nature\n\n1. The Inward principle in its immediacy as merely\nsuch inwardness\n\n[(_a_) Immediate singularity as conserved in the purely\nanimal organism\n\n(_b_) Of the nature of the contrast between the above\nand the human body\n\n(_c_) Social organizations viewed in such particularized\nimmediacy, and the defects they betray\nas such external totalities]\n\n2. The Dependence of particular existence as viewed\nin its immediate singularity\n\n[(_a_) The dependence of animal life upon its natural\nenvironment\n\n(_b_) The nature of a similar dependence in the case\nof the human organism\n\n(_c_) The dependence of human souls, or spiritual\ninterests, on the prose-life of ordinary existence]\n\n3. The limitations implied by such conditions\n\n[(_a_) The restriction of species in the animal world,\nand of the social condition as it affects human\nindividuality\n\n(_b_) The limitation of racial division, or of particular\nfamilies, or particular professions, and the\neffect of such upon the aspect of beauty\n\n(_c_) It is the very defects of this finite plane of reality,\nwhich stimulates man to recover the vision of\nhis freedom in Art]\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE BEAUTY OF ART OR THE IDEAL\n\nA. The Ideal as such\n\n1.  Individuality which partakes of Beauty.\n\n[(_a_) The nature of the conditions under which Art\ncan express a profound and infinite spiritual\ncontent\n\n(_b_) What Art rejects from natural embodiment in\norder to effect this revelation, which is also a\npurification\n\n(_c_) This \"referring back\" of external form to spirituality,\nor inwardness, issuing in harmonious\nindividuality, is the very nature of the Ideal\n\n(_\u03b1_) The blythe serenity of antique art\n\n(_\u03b2_) The treatment of emotion by romantic art\n\n(_\u03b3_) Irony]\n\n2.  The Ideal relatively to Nature\n\n[(_a_) The formal ideality of a work of art, _i.e._, the\nelement of poetry therein\n\n(_b_) The creative faculty contrasted with Nature in\nits power to grasp ideal significance, with\nillustrations of this power\n\n(_c_) The nature of this spiritual recreation of natural\nfact by Art originating in the energy of mind.\nIllustration with the example of Dutch art in\nits genre painting, also with that of portraiture\nand classical art]\n\nB.  The Determinate Character of the Ideal\n\nI. Ideal determinacy as such\n\n1. Thought apart from the plastic material can only\ncomprehend the Divine in its universality and\nunity. Mohammedan and Hebrew art\n\n2. The polytheistic aspect of Hellenic art considered,\nas also Christian art\n\n3. The relation of the arts of painting and sculpture\nto the latter. The transition from the principle\nof spiritual repose to that of development and\nconflict\n\n\nII.  The Action\n\n1.  The universal World-condition\n\n[(_a_)\n\n(_\u03b1_) The self-subsistency of such a condition\nas a necessary _prius_ of the embodiment of\nthe Ideal\n\n(_\u03b2_) The nature of the reality adapted to artistic\ntreatment as contrasted with what is\nnot so adapted. The fixed order of the\nState as contrasted with conditions most\nfavourable to free individuality\n\n(_\u03b3_) Further examination of contrast in relation\nto judicial functions and the ideas of punishment\nor revenge as we find it in the heroic\nage. The reappearance of an analogous\ncondition in the Middle Ages\n\n(_b_) Modern prosaic life the condition most favourable\nto the private or personal life as an\nobject of interest\n\n(_c_) Resistance by individual poets to this process\nof social change. The permanent demand\nfor the heroic]\n\n2.  The Situation\n\n[(_a_) The situation that is devoid of situation\n\n(_b_) The situation as defined in its harmlessness\nor absence of further conflict\n\n(_\u03b1_) The movement from pure tranquillity to\nmovement or expression. Illustrations from\nclassical art\n\n(_\u03b2_) Movement as related to externality. The\ninitial stage of action. Greek sculpture\n\n(_\u03b3_) Situation in movement presented as an\nopportunity to further expression. Illustrations\nfrom poetry]\n\n(_c_) The Collision\n\n[(_\u03b1_) Collisions which arise from wholly material\nconditions. Only of artistic interest as a\nconsequence of natural misfortune. Illustrations\n\n(_\u03b2_) Spiritual collisions dependent on natural\nconditions. Classified and illustrated.\n\n(_\u03b3_) The above only form the starting-point of\nthe collision of the essential forces of\nspiritual life. The third and most important\ntype is the collision caused by the disruption\nof Spirit alone. Illustrations]\n\n\n3.  The Action\n\n(_a_) The universal forces operative in the action.\n\n[(_\u03b1_) These forces are the eternally paramount\nreligious and ethical modes of relationship,\nsuch as family, fatherland, church, friendship,\nstatus, honour, and love. They are\nchildren of the one absolute Idea. Illustration\nof their contention\n\n(_\u03b2_) They must not act in discord with the main\naction. The position of evil powers as confronting\nthem, and its treatment by classic\nand modern poetry\n\n(_\u03b3_) Such forces must appear in Art as embodied\nin particular personalities. Contrast\nbetween ancient and modern art in this\nrespect]\n\n(_b_) The individuals concerned in the action\n\n[(_\u03b1_) The relations between gods and men in\nclassical art, and that between the Divine\nand the human in Christian art\n\n[_\u03b2_] Pathos considered in its relation to various\nmodes of art]\n\n(_c_) Character\n\n[(_\u03b1_) Viewed as co-extensive or self-coherent\nindividuality, relatively, that is, to the intrinsic\nwealth it connotes. Illustrations\n\n(_\u03b2_) Viewed relatively to the particular form\nunder which it is bound to appear\n\n(_\u03b3_) Viewed as a concrete unity coalescing\nwholly with its determinate form and as\nassured character. Illustrations classified\nin their stability and lack of such]\n\nIII.  The External Determination of the Ideal.\n\n1. The abstract Externality as such.\n\n[(_a_) Spatiality, Uniformity, Figure, Time, and\nColour.\n\n(_\u03b1_) How far such contribute to artistic production\n\n(_\u03b2_) The necessity of clear articulation of form\nand tone considered]\n\n2.  The Coalescence of the concrete Ideal with its\nexternal Reality\n\n[(_\u03b1_) The bond of unity regarded as no positive\nreality, but as a mysterious or secret connection.\nThe relation of external Nature to\nthe work of art. The Homeric poems contrasted\nwith the \"Niebelungenlied\" in this\nrespect\n\n(_b_) Where the unity is expressly due to human\nactivity and human adaptation of means to ends\n\n[(_\u03b1_) The use made by man of ornament or of\nanything used for mere show, _e.g._, precious\nmetals for statuary\n\n(_\u03b2_) The question how far objects used for\npractical purposes are suited for art. The\nidyllic, civilized and heroic condition compared\nin the degree they are thus adapted\n\n(_\u03b3_) The spiritual environment itself in social\ninstitutions, etc., regarded in its relation to\nideal character]\n\n3. The Externality of a work of Art in relation to a\nPublic\n\n(_a_) What is implied in the assertion by the artist\nof the particular culture of his own times?\n\n(_b_) What may be regarded as truth when the\nreference is to a Past, either in an exclusive\nor objective sense?\n\n(_c_) What may still be regarded as valid in truth\nthough the matter be appropriated from a\ntime and nationality foreign to the artist?\nAll three questions discussed and illustrated]\n\nC.  The Artist\n\n1.  Imagination, Genius, and Inspiration\n\n2.  The objective character of the artistic presentation\n\n3.  Manner, Style, and Originality.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PHILOSOPHY OF FINE ART\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe present inquiry[1] has for its subject-matter _Aesthetic_. It is\na subject co-extensive with the entire _realm of the beautiful_; more\nspecifically described, its province is that of _Art_, or rather, we\nshould say, of _Fine Art._\n\nFor a subject-matter such as this the term \"Aesthetic\" is no doubt\nnot entirely appropriate, for \"Aesthetic\" denotes more accurately the\nscience of the senses or emotion. It came by its origins as a science,\nor rather as something that to start with purported to be a branch of\nphilosophy, during the period of the school of Wolff, in other words\nwhen works of art were generally regarded in Germany with reference\nto the feelings they were calculated to evoke, as, for example, the\nfeelings of pleasure, admiration, fear, pity, and so forth. It is owing\nto the unsuitability or, more strictly speaking, the superficiality\nof this term that the attempt has been made by some to apply the name\n\"Callistic\" to this science. Yet this also is clearly insufficient\ninasmuch as the science here referred to does not investigate beauty in\nits general signification, but the beauty of art pure and simple. For\nthis reason we shall accommodate ourselves to the term Aesthetic, all\nthe more so as the mere question of nomenclature is for ourselves a\nmatter of indifference. It has as such been provisionally accepted in\nordinary speech, and we cannot do better than retain it. The _term_,\nhowever, which fully expresses our science is \"Philosophy of Art,\" and,\nwith still more precision, \"Philosophy of Fine Art.\"\n\n(_a_) In virtue of this expression we at once exclude the beauty of\nNature from the scientific exposition of Fine Art. Such a limitation\nof our subject may very well appear from a certain point of view as\nan arbitrary boundary line, similar to that which every science is\nentitled to fix in the demarcation of its subject-matter. We must not,\nhowever, understand the limitation of \"Aesthetic\" to the beauty of art\nin this sense. We are accustomed, no doubt, in ordinary life to speak\nof a beautiful colour, a beautiful heaven, a beautiful stream, to say\nnothing of beautiful flowers, animals, and, above all, of beautiful\nhuman beings. Without entering now into the disputed question how far\nthe quality of beauty can justly be predicated of such objects, and\nconsequently the beauty of Nature comes generally into competition with\nthat of art, we are justified in maintaining categorically that the\nbeauty of art stands _higher_ than Nature. For the beauty of art is a\nbeauty begotten, a new birth of mind[2]; and to the extent that Spirit\nand its creations stand higher than Nature and its phenomena, to that\nextent the beauty of art is more exalted than the beauty of Nature.\nIndeed, if we regard the matter in its formal aspect, that is to say,\naccording to the way it is there, any chance fancy that passes through\nany one's head[3], is of higher rank than any product of Nature. For\nin every case intellectual conception and freedom are inseparable\nfrom such a conceit. In respect to _content_ the sun appears to us an\nabsolutely necessary constituent of actual fact, while the perverse\nfancy passes away as something accidental and evanescent. None the\nless in its own independent being a natural existence such as the sun\npossesses no power of self-differentiation; it is neither essentially\nfree nor self-aware; and, if we regard it in its necessary cohesion\nwith other things, we do not regard it independently for its own sake,\nand consequently not as beautiful.\n\nMerely to maintain, in a general way, that mind and the beauty of art\nwhich originates therefrom stand _higher_ than the beauty of Nature\nis no doubt to establish next to nothing. The expression _higher_\nis obviously entirely indefinite; it still indicates the beauty of\nNature and art as standing juxtaposed in the field of conception, and\nemphasizes the difference as a quantitative and accordingly external\ndifference. But in predicating of mind and its artistic beauty a\nhigher place in contrast to Nature, we do not denote a distinction\nwhich is merely relative. Mind, and mind alone, is pervious to truth,\ncomprehending all in itself, so that all which is beautiful can only\nbe veritably beautiful as partaking in this higher sphere and as\nbegotten of the same. Regarded under this point of view it is only a\nreflection of the beauty appertinent to mind, that is, we have it under\nan imperfect and incomplete mode, and one whose substantive being is\nalready contained in the mind itself.\n\nAnd apart from this we shall find the restriction to the beauty of\nart only natural, for in so far as the beauties of Nature may have\ncome under discussion--a rarer occurrence among ancient writers than\namong ourselves--yet at least it has occurred to no one to insist\nemphatically on the beauty of natural objects to the extent of\nproposing a science, or systematic exposition of such beauties. It is\ntrue that the point of view of _utility_ has been selected for such\nexclusive treatment. We have, for example, the conception of a science\nof natural objects in so far as they are useful in the conflict with\ndiseases, in other words a description of minerals, chemical products,\nplants, animals, which subserve the art of healing. We do not find\nany analogous exploitation and consideration of the realm of Nature\nin its aspect of beauty. In the case of natural beauty we are too\nkeenly conscious that we are dealing with an indefinite subject-matter\ndestitute of any real criterion. It is for this reason that such an\neffort of comparison would carry with it too little interest to justify\nthe attempt.\n\nThese preliminary observations over beauty in Nature and art, over the\nrelation of both, and the exclusion of the first-mentioned from the\nprovince of our real subject-matter are intended to disabuse us of\nthe notion that the limitation of our science is simply a question of\ncapricious selection. We have, however, not reached the point where a\n_demonstration_ of this fact is feasible for the reason that such an\ninvestigation falls within the limits of our science itself, and it is\ntherefore only at a later stage that we can either discuss or prove the\nsame.\n\nAssuming, however, that we have, by way of prelude, limited our inquiry\nto the beauty of art, we are merely by this first step involved in\nfresh difficulties.\n\n(_b_) What must first of all occur to us is the question whether\nFine Art in itself is truly susceptible to a scientific treatment.\nIt is a simple fact that beauty and art pervade all the affairs of\nlife like some friendly genius, and embellish with their cheer all\nour surroundings, mental no less than material. They alleviate the\nstrenuousness of such relations, the varied changes of actual life;\nthey banish the tedium of our existence with their entertainment; and\nwhere nothing really worth having is actually achieved, it is at least\nan advantage that they occupy the place of actual vice. Yet while\nart prevails on all sides with its pleasing shapes, from the crude\ndecorations of savage tribes up to the splendours of the sacred shrine\nadorned with every conceivable beauty of design, none the less such\nshapes themselves appear to fall outside the real purposes of life,\nand even where the imaginative work of art is not impervious to such\nserious objects, nay, rather at times even appear to assist them, to\nthe extent at least of removing what is evil to a distance, yet for\nall that art essentially belongs to the _relaxation_ and _recreation_\nof spiritual life, whereas its substantive interests rather make a\ncall upon its strained energy. On such grounds an attempt to treat\nthat which on its own account is not of a serious character with all\nthe gravity of scientific exposition may very possibly appear to be\nunsuitable and pedantic. In any case from such a point of view art\nappears a _superfluity_ if contrasted with the essential needs and\ninterests of life, even assuming that the _softening_ of the soul which\na preoccupation with the beauty of objects is capable of producing,\ndoes not actually prove injurious in its effeminate influence upon\nthe serious quality of those _practical_ interests. Owing to this\nfundamental assumption that they are a luxury it has often appeared\nnecessary to undertake the defence of the fine arts relatively to\nthe necessities of practical life, and in particular relatively to\nmorality and piety; and inasmuch as this harmlessness is incapable of\ndemonstration, the idea has been at least to make it appear credible,\nthat this luxury of human experience contributes a larger proportion of\n_advantages_ than _disadvantages_. In this respect serious aims have\nbeen attributed to art, and in many quarters it has been commended as\na mediator between reason and sensuous associations, between private\ninclinations and duty, personified in short as a reconciler of these\nforces in the strenuous conflict and opposition which this antagonism\ngenerates. But it is just conceivable[4] that, even assuming the\npresence of such aims with all their indubitably greater seriousness,\nneither reason nor duty come by much profit from such mediation, for\nthe simple reason that they are incapable by their very nature of\nany such interfusion or compromise, demanding throughout the same\npurity which they intrinsically possess. And we might add that art\ndoes not become in any respect more worthy thereby of scientific\ndiscussion, inasmuch as it remains still on two sides a menial, that\nis, subservient to idleness and frivolity, if also to objects of more\nelevated character. In such service, moreover, it can at most merely\nappear as a means instead of being an object for its own sake. And, in\nconclusion, assuming that art is a means, it still invariably labours\nunder the formal defect, that so far as it in fact is subservient to\nmore serious objects, and produces results of like nature, the means\nwhich actually brings this about is _deception._ For beauty is made\nvital in the _appearance_[5]. Now it can hardly be denied that aims\nwhich are true and serious ought not to be achieved by deception; and\nthough such an effect is here and there secured by this means, such\nought only to be the case in a restricted degree; and even in the\nexceptional case we are not justified in regarding deception as the\nright means. For the means ought to correspond with the dignity of the\naim. Neither semblance nor deception, but only what is itself real and\ntrue, possesses a title to create what is real and true. Just in the\nsame way science has to investigate the true interests of the mind in\naccordance with the actual process of the real world and the manner of\nconceiving it as we actually find it.\n\nWe may possibly conclude from the above grounds that the art of beauty\nis unworthy of philosophical examination. It is after all, it may be\nsaid, only a pleasant pastime, and, though we may admit more serious\naims are also in its purview, nevertheless it is essentially opposed to\nsuch aims in their seriousness. It is at the most merely the servant of\nspecific amusements no less than the exceptional serious objects, and\nfor the medium of its existence as also for the means of its operations\ncan merely avail itself of deception and show.\n\nBut yet further in the _second_ place, it is a still more plausible\ncontention that even supposing fine art to be compatible generally\nwith philosophical disquisition, none the less it would form no really\nadequate subject-matter for scientific enquiry in the strict sense.\nFor the beauty of art is presented to sense, feeling, perception, and\nimagination: its field is not that of thought, and the comprehension of\nits activity and its creations demands another faculty than that of the\nscientific intelligence. Furthermore, what we enjoy in artistic beauty\nis just the _freedom_ of its creative and plastic activity. In the\nproduction and contemplation of these we appear to escape the principle\nof rule and system. In the creations of art we seek for an atmosphere\nof repose and animation as some counterpoise to the austerity of the\nrealm of law and the sombre self-concentration of thought; we seek for\nblithe and powerful reality in exchange for the shadow-world of the\nIdea. And, last of all, the free activity of the imagination is the\nsource of the fair works of art, which in this world of the mind are\neven more free than Nature is herself. Not only has art at its service\nthe entire wealth of natural form in all their superabundant variety,\nbut the creative imagination is able inexhaustibly to extend the realm\nof form by its _own_ productions and modifications. In the presence of\nsuch an immeasurable depth of inspired creation and its free products,\nit may not unreasonably be supposed that thought will lose the courage\nto apprehend such in their apparent _range_, to pronounce its verdict\nthereon, and to appropriate such beneath its universal formulae.\n\nScience, on the other hand, everyone must admit, is formally bound\nto occupy itself with thinking which abstracts from the mass of\nparticulars: and for this very reason, from one point of view, the\nimagination and its contingency and caprice, in other words the organ\nof artistic activity and enjoyment, is excluded from it. On the other\nhand, when art gives joyous animation to just this gloomy and arid\ndryness of the notion, bringing its abstractions and divisions into\nreconciliation with concrete fact, supplementing with its detail\nwhat is wanting to the notion in this respect, even in that case\na _purely_ contemplative reflection simply removes once more all\nthat has been added, does away with it, conducting the notion once\nagain to that simplicity denuded of positive reality which belongs\nto it and its shadowland of abstraction. It is also a possible\ncontention that science in respect to content is concerned with what\nis essentially _necessary._ If our science of Aesthetic places on one\nside natural beauty, not merely have we apparently made no advance,\nbut rather separated ourselves yet further from what is necessary. The\nexpression _Nature_ implies from the first the ideas of _necessity_\nand _uniformity_, that is to say a constitution which gives every\nexpectation of its proximity and adaptability to scientific inquiry.\nIn mental operations generally, and most of all in the imagination,\nif contrasted in this respect with Nature, caprice and superiority\nto every kind of formal restriction, caprice, it is here assumed, is\nuniquely in its right place, and these at once put out of court the\nbasis of a scientific inquiry.\n\nFrom each and all these points of view consequently, in its origin,\nthat is to say, in its effect and in its range, fine art, so far\nfrom proving itself fitted for scientific effort, rather appears\nfundamentally to resist the regulative principle of thought, and to be\nill-adapted for exact scientific discussion.\n\nDifficulties of this kind, and others like them, which have been raised\nin respect to a thoroughly scientific treatment of fine art have been\nborrowed from current ideas, points of view, and reflection, the more\nsystematic expansion of which we may read _ad nauseam_ in previous\nliterature, in particular French literature, upon the subject of beauty\nand the fine arts. Such contain to some extent facts which have their\njustification; in fact, elaborate arguments[6] are deduced therefrom,\nwhich also are not without their tincture of apparent plausibility.\nIn this way, for instance, there is the fact that the configuration\nof beauty is as multifold as the phenomenon of beauty is of universal\nextension; from which we may conclude, if we care to do so, that a\nuniversal impulse towards beauty is enclosed in our common nature,\nand may yet further conceivably infer, that because the conceptions\nof beauty are so countless in their variety and withal are obviously\nsomething _particular_, it is impossible to secure laws of _universal_\nvalidity either relatively to beauty or our taste for it.\n\nBefore turning away from such theories to the subject, as we ourselves\nconceive it, it will be a necessary and preliminary task to discuss the\nquestions and objections raised above.\n\nFirst, as to the _worthiness_ of art to form the object of scientific\ninquiry, it is no doubt the case that art can be utilized as a mere\npastime in the service of pleasure and entertainment, either in the\nembellishment of our surroundings, the imprinting of a delight-giving\nsurface to the external conditions of life, or the emphasis placed by\ndecoration on other objects. In these respects it is unquestionably no\nindependent or free art, but an art subservient to certain objects.\nThe kind of art, however, which _we_ ourselves propose to examine is\none which is _free_ in its aim and its means. That art in general can\nserve other objects, and even be merely a pastime, is a relation which\nit possesses in common with thought itself. From one point of view\nthought likewise, as science subservient to other ends, can be used in\njust the same way for finite purposes and means as they chance to crop\nup, and as such serviceable faculty of science is not self-determined,\nbut determined by something alien to it. But, further, as distinct\nfrom such subservience to particular objects, science is raised of its\nown essential resources in free independence to truth, and exclusively\nunited with its own aims in discovering the true fulfillment in that\ntruth.\n\nFine art is not art in the true sense of the term until it is also\nthus free, and its _highest_ function is only then satisfied when it\nhas established itself in a sphere which it shares with religion,\nand philosophy, becoming thereby merely one mode and form through\nwhich the _Divine_, the profoundest interests of mankind, and\nspiritual truths of widest range, art brought home to consciousness\nand expressed. It is in works of art that nations have deposited the\nrichest intuitions and ideas they possess; and not infrequently fine\nart supplies a key of interpretation to the wisdom and religion of\npeoples; in the case of many it is the only one. This is an attribute\nwhich art shares in common with religion and philosophy, the peculiar\ndistinction in the case of art being that its presentation of the\nmost exalted subject-matter is in sensuous form, thereby bringing\nthem nearer to Nature and her mode of envisagement, that is closer\nto our sensitive and emotional life. The world, into the profundity\nof which thought penetrates, is a supersensuous one, a world which\nto start with is posited as a Beyond in contrast to the immediacy of\nordinary conscious life and present sensation. It is the freedom of\nreflecting consciousness which disengages itself from this immersion in\nthe \"_this side_,\" or immediacy, in other words sensuous reality and\nfinitude. But the mind is able, too, to heal the _fracture_ which is\nthus created in its progression. From the wealth of its own resources\nit brings into being the works of fine art as the primary bond of\nmediation between that which is exclusively external, sensuous and\ntransitory, and the medium of pure thought, between Nature and its\nfinite reality, and the infinite freedom of a reason which comprehends.\nNow it was objected that the _element_[7] _of art_ was, if we view it\nas a whole, of an _unworthy_ character, inasmuch as it consisted of\nappearance and deceptions inseparable from such. Such a contention\nwould of course be justifiable, if we were entitled to assume that\nappearance had no _locus standi_[8] at all. An appearance or show\nis, however, essential to actuality. There could be no such thing as\ntruth if it did not appear, or, rather, let itself appear[9], were it\nnot further true for some _one_ thing or person, _for_ itself as also\n_for_ spirit. Consequently it cannot be appearance in general against\nwhich such an objection can be raised, but the particular mode of its\nmanifestation under which art makes actual what is essentially real\nand true. If, then, the appearance, in the medium of which art gives\ndeterminate existence to its creations, be defined as _deception_, such\nan objection is in the first instance intelligible if we compare it\nwith the _external world_ of a phenomena, and its _immediate_ relation\nto ourselves as material substance, or view it relatively to our own\nworld of emotions, that is our inward sensuous life. Both these are\nworlds to which in our everyday life, the life, that is, of visible\nexperience, we are accustomed to attach the worth and name of reality,\nactuality and truth as contrasted with that of art, which fails to\npossess such reality as we suppose. Now it is just this entire sphere\nof the empirical world, whether on its personal side or its objective\nside, which we ought rather to call in a stricter sense than when\nwe apply the term to the world of art, merely a show or appearance,\nand an even more unyielding form of deception. It is only beyond the\nimmediacy of emotional life and that world of external objects that\nwe shall discover reality in any true sense of the term. Nothing\nis actually real but that which is actual in its own independent\nright and substance[10], that which is at once of the substance of\nNature and of mind, which, while it is actually _here_ in present and\ndeterminate existence, yet retains under such limitation an essential\nand self-concentred being, and only in virtue of such is truly real.\nThe predominance of these universal powers is precisely that which art\naccentuates and manifests. In the external and soul-world of ordinary\nexperience we have also no doubt this essence of actuality, but in the\nchaotic congeries of particular detail, encumbered by the immediacy of\nsensuous envisagement, and every kind of caprice of condition, event,\ncharacter, and so forth. Now it is just the show and deception of this\nfalse and evanescent world which art disengages from the veritable\nsignificance of phenomena to which we have referred, implanting in\nthe same a reality of more exalted rank born of mind. The phenomena\nof art therefore are not merely not appearance and nothing more; we\nare justified in ascribing to them, as contrasted with the realities\nof our ordinary life, an actually higher reality and more veritable\nexistence. To as little extent are the representations of art a\ndeceptive appearance as compared with the assumed truer delineations\nof historical writing. For immediate existence also does not belong to\nhistorical writing. It only possesses the intellectual appearance of\nthe same as the medium of its delineations, and its content remains\ncharged with the entire contingent _materia_ of ordinary reality and\nits events, developments and personalities, whereas the work of art\nbrings us face to face with the eternal powers paramount in history\nwith this incidental association of the immediate sensuous present and\nits unstable appearance expunged.\n\nIf, however, it is in contrast with philosophic thought and religious\nand ethical principles, that the mode of appearance of the shapes of\nart, is described as a deception, there is certainly this in support\nof the view that the mode of revelation attained by a content in the\nrealm of thought is the truest reality. In comparison, nevertheless,\nwith the appearance of immediate sensuous existence and that of\nhistorical narration, the show of art possesses the advantage that, in\nits own virtue, it points beyond itself, directing us to a somewhat\nspiritual, which it seeks to envisage to the conceptive mind. Immediate\nappearance, on the contrary, does not give itself out to be thus\nillusive, but rather to be the true and real, though as a matter of\nfact such truth is contaminated and obstructed by the immediately\nsensuous medium. The hard rind of Nature and the everyday world offer\nmore difficulty to the mind in breaking through to the Idea than do the\nproducts of art.\n\nBut if from this particular point of view we place art thus highly, we\nmust not, on the other hand, fail to remember that neither in respect\nto content or form is art either the highest or most absolute mode of\nbringing the true interests of our spiritual life to consciousness.\nThe very form of art itself is sufficient to limit it to a definite\ncontent. It is only a particular sphere and grade of truth which is\ncapable of being reproduced in the form of a work of art. Such truth\nmust have the power in its own determinate character to go out freely\ninto sensuous shape and remain adequate to itself therein, if it is\nto be the genuine content of art, as is the case, for example, with\nthe gods of Greece. On the other hand there is a profounder grasp of\ntruth, in which the form is no longer on such easy and friendly terms\nwith the sensuous material as to be adequately accepted and expressed\nby that medium. Of such a type is the Christian conception of truth;\nand above all it is the prevailing spirit of our modern world, or,\nmore strictly, of our religion and our intellectual culture, which\nhave passed beyond the point at which art is the highest mode under\nwhich the absolute is brought home to human consciousness. The type\npeculiar to art-production and its products fails any longer to satisfy\nman's highest need. We are beyond the stage of reverence for works of\nart as divine and objects deserving our worship. The impression they\nproduce is one of a more reflective[11] kind, and the emotions which\nthey arouse require a higher test and a further verification. Thought\nand reflection have taken their flight above fine art. To those who\nare fond of complaint and grumbling such a condition of things may be\nheld as a form of decadence; it may be ascribed to the obsession of\npassion and selfish interests, which scare away the seriousness of art\nno less than its blithesomeness. Or we may find the fault to lie in\nthe exigencies of the present day, the complex conditions of social\nand political life, which prevent the soul, entangled as it is in\nmicroscopic interests, from securing its freedom in the nobler objects\nof art, a condition, too, in which the intelligence itself becomes\na menial to such trifling wants and the interests they excite in\nsciences, which subserve objects of a like nature, and are seduced into\nthe voluntary exile of such a wilderness.\n\nBut however we may explain the fact it certainly is the case that Art\nis no longer able to discover that satisfaction of spiritual wants,\nwhich previous epochs and nations have sought for in it and exclusively\nfound in it, a satisfaction which, at least on the religious side, was\nassociated with art in the most intimate way. The fair days of Greek\nart, as also the golden time of the later middle ages, are over. The\nreflective culture of our life of to-day makes it inevitable, both\nrelatively to our volitional power and our judgment, that we adhere\nstrictly to general points of view, and regulate particular matters in\nconsonance with them, so that universal forms, laws, duties, rights,\nand maxims hold valid as the determining basis of our life and the\nforce within of main importance. What is demanded for artistic interest\nas also for artistic creation is, speaking in general terms, a vital\nenergy, in which the universal is not present as law and maxim, but\nis operative in union with the soul and emotions, just as also, in\nthe imagination, what is universal and rational is enclosed only as\nbrought into unity with a concrete sensuous phenomenon. For this reason\nthe present time is not, if we review its conditions in their widest\nrange, favourable to art. And with regard to the executive artist\nhimself it is not merely that reflection on every side, which _will_\ninsist on utterance, owing to the universal habit of critical opinion\nand judgment, leads him astray from his art and infects his mind\nwith a like desire to accumulate abstract thought in his creations;\nrather the entire spiritual culture of the times is of such a nature\nthat he himself stands within a world thus disposed to reflection\nand the conditions it presupposes, and, do what he may, he cannot\nrelease himself either by his wish or his power of decision from their\ninfluence, neither can he by means of exceptional education, or a\nremoval from the ordinary conditions of life, conjure up for himself\nand secure a solitude capable of replacing all that is lost.\n\nIn all these respects art is and remains for us, on the side, of its\nhighest possibilities, a thing of the past. Herein it has further lost\nits genuine truth and life, and is rather transported to our world of\n_ideas_ than is able to maintain its former necessity and its superior\nplace in reality. What is now stimulated in us by works of art is, in\naddition to the fact of immediate enjoyment, our judgment. In other\nwords we subject the content, and the means of presentation of the\nwork of art, and the suitability and unsuitability of both, to the\ncontemplation of our thought. A _science_ of art is therefore a far\nmore urgent necessity in our own days than in times in which art as\nart sufficed by itself alone to give complete satisfaction. We are\ninvited by art to contemplate it reflectively, not, that is to say,\nwith the object of recreating such art[12], but in order to ascertain\nscientifically its nature.\n\nIn doing our best to accept such an invitation we are confronted with\nthe objection already adverted to, that even assuming that art is a\nsubject adapted for philosophical investigation in a general way, yet\nit unquestionably is not so adapted to the systematic procedure of\nscience. Such an objection, however, implies to start with the false\nnotion that we can have a philosophical inquiry which is at the same\ntime unscientific. In reply to such a point I can only here state\nsummarily my opinion, that whatever ideas other people may have of\nphilosophy and philosophizing, I myself conceive philosophical inquiry\nof any sort or kind to be inseparable from the methods of science. The\nfunction of philosophy is to examine subject-matter in the light of the\nprinciple of necessity, not, it is true, merely in accordance with its\nsubjective[13] necessity or external co-ordination, classification,\nand so forth; it has rather to unfold and demonstrate the object under\nreview out of the necessity of its own intimate nature. Until this\nessential process is made explicit the scientific quality of such an\ninquiry is absent. In so far, however, as the objective necessity of\nan object subsists essentially in its logical and metaphysical nature\nthe isolated examination of art may in such a case, at any rate, or\nrather inevitably, must be carried forward with a certain relaxation\nof scientific stringency. For art is based upon many assumptions, part\nof which relate to its content, part to its material or conceptive[14]\nmedium, in virtue of which art is never far from the borders of\ncontingency and caprice. Consequently it is only relatively to the\nessential and ideal progression of its content and its means of\nexpression that we are able to recall with advantage the formative\nprinciple of its necessity[15].\n\nThe objection that works of fine art defy the examination of scientific\nthought, because they originate in the unregulated world of imagination\nand temperament, and assert their effect exclusively on the emotions\nand the fancy with a complexity and variety which defies exact\nanalysis, raises a difficulty which still carries genuine weight behind\nit[16]. As a matter of fact the beauty of art does appear in a form\nwhich is expressly to be contrasted with abstract thought, a form which\nit is compelled to disturb in order to exercise its own activity in\nits own way. Such a result is simply a corollary of the thesis that\nreality anywhere and everywhere, whether the life of Nature or mind,\nis defaced and slain by its comprehension; that so far from being\nbrought more close to us by the comprehension of thinking, it is only\nby this means that it is in the complete sense removed apart from us,\nso that in his attempt to grasp through thought as a _means_ the nature\nof life, man rather renders nugatory this very aim. An exhaustive\ndiscussion of the subject is here impossible; we propose merely to\nindicate the point of view from which the removal of this difficulty or\nimpossibility and incompatibility might be effected. It will at least\nbe readily admitted that mind is capable of self-contemplation, and\nof possessing a consciousness, and indeed one that implies a power of\nthought co-extensive with itself and everything which originates from\nitself. It is, in fact, precisely _thought_, the process of thinking,\nwhich constitutes the most intimate and essential nature of mind.\nIt is in this thinking-consciousness over itself and its products,\ndespite all the freedom and caprice such may otherwise and indeed\nmust invariably possess--assuming only mind or spirit to be veritably\npregnant therein--that mind exhibits the activity congenial to its\nessential nature. Art and the creations of art, being works which\noriginate in and are begotten of the spirit, are themselves stamped\nwith the hall-mark of spirit, even though the mode of its presentation\naccept for its own the phenomenal guise of sensuous reality, permeating\nas it does the sensuous substance with intelligence. Viewed in this\nlight art is placed from the first nearer to spirit and its thought\nthan the purely external and unintelligent Nature. In the products\nof art mind is exclusively dealing with that which is its own. And\nalthough works of art are not thought and notion simply as such, but\nan evolution of the notion out of itself, an alienation of the same\nin the direction of sensuous being, yet for all that the might of the\nthinking spirit is discovered _not merely_ in its ability to grasp\n_itself_ in its most native form as pure thinking, but also, and as\ncompletely, to recognize itself in its self-divestment in the medium\nof emotion and the sensuous, to retain the grasp of itself in that\n\"other\" which it transforms but is not, transmuting the alien factor\ninto thought-expression, and by so doing recovering it to itself. And\nmoreover in this active and frequent relation to that \"other\" than\nitself the reflective mind is not in any way untrue to itself. We have\nhere no oblivion or surrender of itself; neither is it so impotent as\nto be unable to comprehend what is differentiated from that other[17];\nwhat it actually does is to grasp in the notion _both_ itself and its\nopposite. For the notion is the universal, which maintains itself in\nits particularizations, which covers in its grasp both itself and its\n\"other,\" and consequently contains the power and energy to cancel the\nvery alienation into which it passes. For this reason the work of\nart, in which thought divests itself of itself[18], belongs to the\nrealm of comprehending thought; and mind, by subjecting it[19] to\nscientific contemplation, thereby simply satisfies its most essential\nnature. For inasmuch as thought is its essence and notion, it can only\nultimately find such a satisfaction after passing all the products of\nits activity through the alembic of rational thought, and in this way\nmaking them for the first time in very truth part of its own substance.\nBut though art, as we shall eventually see with yet more distinctness,\nis far indeed from being the highest form of mind, it is only in the\nphilosophy of art that it comes into all that it may justly claim.\n\nIn the same way art is not debarred from a philosophical inquiry by\nreason of its unregulated caprice. As already intimated, it is its\ntrue function to bring to consciousness the highest interests of mind.\nAn immediate consequence of this is that, so far as the _content_ of\nfine art is concerned, it cannot range about in all the wildness of an\nunbridled fancy; these interests of spirit posit categorically for the\ncontent that embodies them definite points of attachment[20], however\nmultifold and inexhaustible may be the forms and shapes they assume.\nThe same may be said of the forms themselves. They too do not remain\nunaffected by constraining principles. It is not every chance form\nwhich is capable of expressing and presenting these interests, capable\nof assimilating them and reproducing them. It is only through one\ndeterminate content that the form adequate to its embodiment is defined.\n\nIt is upon grounds such as these that we are also able to discover a\ntrack adapted to critical reflection through the apparently endless\nvistas of artistic creations and shapes.\n\nWe have now, I trust, by way of prelude, succeeded in restricting the\ncontent of our science on the lines of definition proposed. We have\nmade it clear that neither is fine art unworthy of philosophical study,\nnor is such a philosophical study incapable of accepting as an object\nof its cognition the essence of fine art.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nIf we now investigate the required _mode_ of such scientific\ninvestigation, we are here again face to face with two contradictory\nmodes of handling the subject, each of which appears to exclude the\nother and to permit us to arrive at no satisfactory result.\n\nOn the one hand we _observe_ the science of art, merely so to speak,\nfrom an external point of view busying itself with actual works of art,\ncataloguing them in a history of art, drawing up a sort of commentary\nupon extant works, or propounding theories which are intended to supply\nthe general points of view for artistic criticism no less than artistic\nproduction.\n\nOn the other hand we find science wholly giving itself up in\nits independence and self-assured to the contemplation of the\nbeautiful, offering generalizations which do not concern the specific\ncharacteristics of a work of art, producing in short an abstract\nphilosophy of the beautiful.\n\n1. With regard to the first mentioned method of study, the\nstarting-point of which is the _empirical_ study of definite _facts_,\nsuch is the path everyone must tread who means to study art at all. And\njust as everyone nowadays, even though he does not actually concern\nhimself with physical science, yet deems it indispensable to his\nintellectual equipment to have some kind of knowledge of the principles\nof that science[21], so too it is generally considered more or less\nessential to any man of real cultivation, that he should possess some\ngeneral knowledge of art; and indeed the pretension to be ranked as\ndilletante, or even as genuine _connoisseur_, meets with comparatively\nfew exceptions.\n\n(_a_) If however knowledge of this kind is really to claim the rank\nof _connoisseurship_ of the first class it must be both varied in its\ncharacter and of the widest range. It is an indispensable condition\nto such that it should possess an accurate knowledge of the well-nigh\nlimitless field of particular works of art both of ancient and modern\ntimes, some of which have already disappeared, while others are only to\nbe found in distant countries or portions of the globe, and which it is\nthe misfortune of our situation to be unable to inspect. Add to this\nthat every work of art belongs to _one_ age, _one_ nationality, and\ndepends upon particular historical or other ends and ideas. On account\nof this it is indispensable that the finest type of art-scholarship\nshould have at its command not merely historical knowledge of a wide\nrange, but knowledge that is highly specialized. In other words, a\nwork of art is associated with particular[22] detail in a peculiar\nsense, and a specific treatment, is imperative to the comprehension and\ninterpretation of it. And in conclusion this connoisseurship of the\nfinest class does not merely imply like every other a retentive memory,\nbut also a keen imaginative sense, in order to hold clearly before\nthe mind the images of such artistic representations in all their\ncharacteristic lines, and above all, to have them ready for comparison\nwith other works of art.\n\n(_b_) Within the limits of such a method of study which is primarily\nhistorical[23], distinct points of view will soon assert themselves\nwhich in the contemplation of such works we are not suffered to\nlose sight of, inasmuch as they are indispensable to a critical\nverdict. Such points of view, as is the case with other sciences the\ncommencement of which is empirical, are summarized, after their due\ncollection as separate units and comparison, in general criteria and\npropositions, emerging in a yet further stage of formal generalization\nin \"_Theories_ of the arts.\" This is not the place to dwell at length\nupon literature of this kind; we will merely recall a few specimens\nof such work in the most general way. There is, for instance, the\n\"Poetics\" of Aristotle, which contains a theory of tragedy still of\nreal interest. With still more pertinency among the ancients the\n\"Ars Poetica\" of Horace and the Essay on the \"Sublime\" by Longinus\nwill exemplify generally the manner in which this type of theorizing\nis carried out. The general theses which are therein formulated are\nintended to stand as premises and rules, in accordance with which works\nof art ought to be produced, their necessity being above all insisted\non in times of the decadence of poetry and art. They are, in short,\nprescriptions to the practitioner. The prescriptions, however, of these\nphysicians of art were even less successful in their curative effect on\nart than are the ordinary ones in the restoration of bodily health.\n\nAs to such theories I will merely remark that although in their\n_detail_ they contain much that is instructive, yet what they have to\nsay is based on a very limited range of artistic production, which\npassed no doubt for _the_ superlatively beautiful ones, but for all\nthat occupied but a very restricted portion of the entire field of\nsurvey. From a further point of view such generalizations are in part\nvery trivial reflections, which in their generality led up to no secure\ngrasp of actual detail, though that is above all the matter of most\nimportance. The epistle of Horace already cited is full of such general\ntheses, and consequently a book for everyone, but one which for this\nvery reason contains much of no importance at all. Take the lines:\n\n     Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci\n     Lectorum delectando pariterque monendo--\n\n\"He carries all votes who has interfused the useful and the pleasant,\nby at the same time charming and instructing his reader.\" This is no\nbetter than copybook headings such as \"Stay where you are and earn\nan honest sixpence\"--which are good enough as generalization, but\nare defective in the concrete determinacy upon which action depends.\nAn interest of another kind deducible from this type of artistic\nstudy does not so much consist in the expressed object to promote\nthe production of genuine works of art: the intention appears to be\nrather that of influencing the judgment of others upon artistic works\nby such theories, creating, in short, a _standard of taste._ It is\nfor an object of this kind that Horne's \"Elements of Criticism,\" the\nwritings of Batteux, and Ramler's \"Introduction to the Fine Arts\" have\nfound many readers in their day. Taste, in this sense, has to do with\nco-ordination and artistic treatment, the thing in its right place,\nand all that concerns the finish of that which belongs to the external\nembodiment of a work of art. Add to this that to the principles of such\na taste views were attached which belonged to the psychology in fashion\nat the time, views which had been discovered by empirical observations\nof capacities and activities of the soul, or of passions and their\npotential aggrandizement, succession, and so forth. It is, however,\nan invariable fact that every one forms his opinion of works of art,\nor characters, actions and events according to the measure of his\ninsight and his perceptive temperament; and inasmuch as the formation\nof taste to which we have referred merely touched what was external\nand therefore jejune, and apart from this deduced its prescriptions\nentirely from a limited circle of artistic works and an intellectual\nculture and emotional discipline equally restricted, its sphere of\ninfluence was ineffective, and it had neither the power to comprehend\nthe profounder significance[24] and the true, nor to make the vision\nmore keen for their apprehension.\n\nSuch theories proceed through generalization as do the rest of the\nnon-philosophic sciences. The content which they submit to examination\nis accepted from ordinary ideas as something final and received\nas such. Questions are then asked about the constitution of such\na concept, the need for more distinct specification making itself\napparent, and this too is borrowed from current ideas, and forthwith\nfinally established from it in definitions. But in such a procedure we\nat once find ourselves on an insecure basis exposed to controversy.\nIt might in the first instance no doubt appear that the beautiful was\nquite a simple idea. But we soon discover it combines several aspects;\none writer will emphasize one of these, another some other one; or,\neven assuming the same points of view are considered, the question for\ndispute still remains which aspect is to be regarded as essential.\n\nWith regard to such questions it is generally reckoned as inseparable\nfrom scientific completeness, that the various definitions of the\nbeautiful should be enumerated and criticized. For ourselves we do\nnot propose to attempt this with such historical _exhaustiveness_ as\nwould unfold all the many refinements of such essays at definition,\nnor indeed on account of their _historical_ interest. We simply, by\nway of illustration, shall offer a few specimens of the more recent\nand more interesting ways of regarding the matter which do in fact\nhit off pretty nearly what is actually implied in the idea of the\nbeautiful. With this in view it is of first importance to recall\nGoethe's definition of the beautiful, which Meyer has incorporated\nin his \"History of the Creative Arts in Greece,\" in which work he\nalso brings forward the views of Hirt, though he does not actually\nmention his name. Hirt, one of the greatest among connoisseurs of\nthe first class in our time, in his \"Essay upon Fine Art\" (_Horen_,\n1797, seventh number), after considering the beautiful in the several\narts, summarizes his conclusions in the statement that the basis of a\njust criticism of fine art and cultivation of taste is the idea of the\n_Characteristic._ In other words he defines the beautiful ultimately\nas the \"Consummate[25] which is or can be an object of eye, ear, or\nimagination.\" He then proceeds to define this \"consummate\" as \"that\nwhich is adequate to its aim, which nature or art aimed at producing\nin the constitution of the object--after its generic kind and specific\ntype.\" For which reason it is necessary that, in order to instruct\nour critical sense of beauty, we should direct our attention, so far\nas possible, to the specific indications of the object's essential\nconstitution. It is, in fact, these _insignia_ of individuality which\nare its characteristic. Consequently under the term _character_\nas a principle of art he understands \"that definite individual\ncharacterization[26], whereby forms, movement and gesture, mien and\nexpression, local colouring, light and shadow, chiaroscuro and pose are\nseverally distinguished in due relation of course to the requirements\nof the object previously selected.\" This formula is more significant\nin its actual terms than other definitions in vogue. If we proceed\nto ask what the \"characteristic\" is we find that it implies, first,\na _content_, as, for instance, a definite emotion, situation, event,\naction, individual person or thing; secondly, the specific _manner_\nin accordance with which such a content is represented. It is to this\nmode or manner of presentation that the artistic principle of the\n\"characteristic\" is related. It requires that every aspect of detail in\nthe mode of expression shall subserve the clearer definition of that\nexpression's content, and become a vital member of such expression.\n\nThe abstract determination of the characteristic emphasizes therefore\nthe pertinency with which particular detail ought to bring into\nprominence the content which it is intended to reproduce. Attempting an\nelucidation of this conception apart from technical phrase we may state\nthe limitation implied in it as follows: In the drama, for instance, it\nis an action which constitutes the content. That is to say, the drama\nhas to represent how this or that action takes place. Now men do all\nkinds of different things. They speak to each other, take their meals,\nsleep, put on their clothes, say this and that, and all the rest of\nit. But in all this business of life what does not lie in immediate\nrelation with the particular action selected as the real dramatic\ncontent, must be excluded in order that relatively to it everything\nshall be significant. In the same way in a picture which only includes\none moment of that action, and it is possible to accumulate--such are\nthe countless vistas into which the objective world draws us--a mass\nof circumstances, persons, situations or other occurrences, which\nstand in no relation to the specific action as it actually occurs,\nnor subserve in any way the clearer characterization of the same. But\naccording to the definition given of the characteristic only that ought\nto enter into a work of art, which is appertinent to the manifestation\nand essential expression of precisely this one content and no other.\nNothing must declare itself as idle or superfluous.\n\nThis definition is no doubt of real importance, and from a certain\npoint of view admits of justification. Meyer, however, in the work\ncited, is of opinion that the view propounded has vanished, every\nvestige of it, and in his opinion only to the advantage of art. Such a\nconception he thinks would in all probability lead to caricature. This\njudgment is based on the previous idea that an attempt of this kind to\ndefine the beautiful once and for all is associated with the notion of\n_prescription._ The philosophy of art has absolutely nothing to do with\nprecepts for artists. The object is to unfold the essential nature of\nthe beautiful, and--apart from any intention to propound rules for the\nexecutant--how it is illustrated in actual work, that is works of art.\nTo such a criticism we may observe that the definition of Hirt no doubt\nincludes what is capable of being caricature, for caricature may also\nbe characteristic. The obvious point to make, however, against it is\nthis, that in caricature character in its definition is emphasized to\nthe point of exaggeration and is, if we may say so, a superfluity of\nthe characteristic. But a surfeit of this kind is no longer appropriate\nto the characteristic, but a burdensome reiteration whereby the\ncharacteristic may itself be ousted from what it ought to be. Moreover,\nwhat is of the nature of caricature is displayed as the characteristic\npresentment of what is ugly, which is of course a mode of distortion.\n_Ugliness_ is in its own right in this way more closely related to the\ncontent[27], so that it may be actually asserted that the principle of\nthe characteristic includes also ugliness and the presentment of the\nsame as a part of its essential determination. The definition of Hirt,\nof course, gives us no further account of the content of the beautiful.\nIt merely supplies us in this respect with a purely formal statement,\nwhich, however, contains real truth in it although formulated in\nabstract terms.\n\nThere is, however, the further question--what Meyer would substitute\nfor the artistic principle of Hirt, what he proposes himself? He deals\nin the first instance exclusively with the principle as we have it\nin ancient works of art, which, however, must contain in the widest\nconnotation of the term the essential determinant[28] of beauty[29].\nIn doing so he finds occasion to refer to Mengs and to Winckelmann's\ndefinition of the Ideal, and expresses himself to the effect that he\ndoes not wish either to reject or wholly to accept this principle\nof beauty, but on the other hand that he feels no hesitation in\nsubscribing to the opinion of an enlightened judge of art (that is\nGoethe), inasmuch as its meaning is distinct and it appears to solve\nthe problem with more accuracy. Now what Goethe says is this: \"The\nhighest principle of the ancients was the _significant_; the highest\nresult of successful artistic _handling_ is the _beautiful._\"\n\nIf we look more closely at what this dictum implies we have again once\nmore two aspects, that is to say a content or subject matter, and the\nmode of its presentation. In our consideration of a work of art we\nbegin with that which is directly presented to us, and after seeing\nit we proceed to inquire what its significance or content is. That\nexternal husk possesses no value to us simply as such. We assume that\nthere is an inward, an ideality or a significance behind it, in virtue\nof which the external appearance is made alive with mind or spirit. It\nis to this, its soul, that the external appearance points and attests.\nFor an appearance which is significant of something does not present\nitself to us, and merely that which it is _qu\u00e2_ externality, but\nsomething other than this; as also does the symbol for example and with\nyet more clarity the fable, the significance of which is simply the\nmoral and teaching of the same. In fact there is no word which does not\npoint to a meaning, possessing no value by itself. In the same way the\nhuman eye, the face, flesh, skin, the entire presence are a revelation\nof spirit, intelligence and soul; and in such a case the significance\nis without exception something beyond that which is offered in\nthe bare appearance. In this way too the work of art must possess\nsignificance; it must not appear to have told its tale simply in the\nfact of particular lines, curves, surfaces, indentations, reliefs of\nstone-work, in particular colours, tones, sounds of words, whatever\nmedium in fact art may employ. Its function is to unveil an inward or\nideal vitality, emotion, soul, a content and mind, which is precisely\nwhat we mean by the significance of a work of art.\n\nThis demand, therefore, for significance in a work of art is to all\nintents, and in its embrace much the same thing as Hirt's principle of\nthe characteristic.\n\nAccording to this conception we find as characteristic constituents\nof the beautiful an inward somewhat, a content, and an external rind\nwhich possesses that content as its significance. The inner or ideal\nconstituent appears in the external and thus enables itself to be\nrecognized, that which is external pointing away from itself to the\ninward.\n\nWe cannot, however, pursue the matter here into further detail.\n\n(_c_) But the earlier fashion of this \"theory-spinning,\" no less than\nthe laying down of rules for the executant already adverted to, has\nalready been thrust on one side despotically in Germany--mainly owing\nto the appearance of genuine living poetry--and the right of genius,\nits work and effects, have had their full independence insisted upon\nas against the pretensions of such rules of thumb and the broad\nwater-ducts of theory. From this foundation of an art which is itself\nof truly spiritual rank, as also of a sympathy and absorption of the\nsame, have arisen the receptivity and freedom which make it possible\nfor us to enjoy and appreciate great works of art which have long since\nbeen within our reach, whether it be those of the modern world, of the\nMiddle Ages, or of wholly foreign peoples of the Past, the works of\nIndia for example; works, which, in virtue of their antiquity or the\nremoteness of their nationality, possess unquestionably for ourselves\na side alien to ourselves; but which, if we consider the way in which\ntheir content passes over and beyond such national limits, and the\nmatter in it of common appeal to all mankind, can only be hallmarked\nby the prejudice of theory among the products of a barbarous or corrupt\ntaste. This recognition of works of art anywhere and everywhere, works\nwhich depart from the specific circle and forms of those upon which\nin the main the abstractions of theory were based, has, as a primary\nconsequence, led to the recognition of a peculiar type of art\u2014-_the\nromantic art._ It became necessary to apprehend the notion and the\nnature of the beautiful in a profounder way than these theories\nattempted. With this fact another, too, cooperated, viz., that the\nnotions in its form of apperception, the mind as pure thought on its\npart reached in philosophy a point of profounder self-cognition, and\nwas thereby compelled forthwith to grasp the essence of art too on\nprofounder lines. In this way, even in virtue of the point in the\nprocess reached of this general evolution of human thought, the type\nof theorizing upon art we have described, both relatively to its\nprinciples no less than their elaboration, has become obsolete. It is\nonly the _scholarship_ of the history of art which retains an abiding\nvalue, and must continue to retain it in proportion as the boundaries\nof its survey have enlarged in every direction by means of the advance\nmade in man's powers of receptivity already noticed. Its business\nand function consists in the aesthetic appreciation of particular\nworks of art and the knowledge of the historical, in other words the\nexternal conditions from which the work of art originates. It is an\nattitude of the mind, which, if assisted with sound sense and critical\ninsight, supported too with historical knowledge, is an indispensable\ncondition to the complete penetration into the individuality of a\ngiven work of art. The many writings of Goethe upon art and works of\nart are an excellent illustration. Theorizing, in the specific sense\nnoticed, is not the aim of this type of examination, although no doubt\nit not unfrequently also busies itself with abstract principles and\ncategories, and may drop into such a style unconsciously. If, however,\nwithout letting such deviations on our route detain us, we keep before\nour vision those concrete illustrations of artistic works, such at\nleast, whatever else they may do, supply a philosophy of art with the\nvisible warrant and confirmation of actual work, into the historical\ndetail of which, in each particular case, philosophy is not permitted\nto enter.\n\nThis then may be accepted as the first method of art study. It starts\nfrom the particular work which we have before us.\n\n2. The method or point of view to be contrasted with this, in other\nwords an entirely theoretical reflection, which is concerned to\ncognize the beautiful as such from its own intrinsic wealth, and\nto penetrate to the idea of it, is essentially distinct from the\nfirst method. As is well known, Plato was the first to demand of\nphilosophical inquiry in a profounder sense, that objects should not\nbe cognized in their _particularity_, but in their _universality_,\nin their generic type, their essential being and its explicit\nmanifestation. He maintained that this true essence[30] did not consist\nin _particular_ actions which were good, in particular true opinions,\nhandsome men or beautiful works of art, but in _goodness_, _beauty_,\nand _truth_ in their universality. Now if in fact the beautiful ought\nto be cognized according to its essence and notion, this can only\nbe effected by means of the thinking notion[31], by means of which\nthe logical and metaphysical nature of the _Idea as such_, as also\nof that of the particular _Idea of the beautiful_ enters into the\nthinking consciousness. But the consideration of the beautiful in\nits self-independence and its idea may readily once more become an\nabstract metaphysic; and even though Plato is accepted as founder and\npioneer, the Platonic abstraction no longer supplies all we require,\nnot even for the logical Idea of the beautiful. We are bound to grasp\nthis idea more profoundly and more in the concrete. The emptiness of\ncontent which clings to the Platonic Idea, no longer satisfies the\nricher philosophical requirements of the mind to-day. It is no doubt\nthe case that we also in the philosophy of art must make the Idea of\nthe beautiful our starting point; but it is by no means inevitable that\nwe should adhere to the Platonic ideas in their abstraction, ideas from\nwhich the philosophy of the beautiful merely dates its origins.\n\n3. The philosophical idea of the beautiful to indicate at any rate\nits true nature provisionally, must contain both extremes which\nwe have described mediated in itself. It must combine, that is to\nsay, metaphysical universality with the determinate content of real\nparticularity. It is only by this means that it is grasped in its\nessential no less than explicit truth. For on the one hand it is then,\nas contrasted with the sterility of one-sided reflection, fruit-bearing\nout of its own wealth. It is its function, in consonance with its own\nnotion, to develop into a totality of definite qualities, and this\nessential conception itself, no less than its detailed explication,\ncomprises the necessary coherence of its particular features as also\nof the progress and transition of one phase thereof into another.\nOn the other hand, these particulars into which the passage is made\nessentially carry the universality and essentiality of the fundamental\nnotion, as the particulars of which they appear. The modes of inquiry\nhitherto discussed lack both these aspects, and for this reason it\nis only the notion, as above formulated, in its completeness, which\nconducts us to definitive principles which are substantive, necessary,\nand self-contained in their completeness.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nAfter these preliminaries we come to closer quarters with our actual\nsubject-matter, namely, the philosophy of Fine Art[32]; and for\nthe reason that we are undertaking to treat it scientifically, our\ncommencement must be with the notional concept of the same. It is\nonly after we have definitely ascertained this that we can map out\nthe division of its parts, and with it the plan of the science as a\nwhole. A division of this kind, if it is not to be, as is the case with\nnon-philosophical inquiry, undertaken in a purely external way, must\ndiscover its principle in the notion of the subject treated itself.\n\nFace to face with such a demand we are at once met by the question:\n\"Whence do we arrive at such a conception?\" If we begin with the\nnotional concept of Fine Art itself the same at once becomes a\n_pre-supposition_ and mere assumption. Mere assumptions, however,\nare excluded from the philosophical method; whatever here is allowed\nas valid must have its truth demonstrated, in other words must be\nestablished in its necessity.\n\nWe will endeavour to arrive at an understanding in a few words in the\npresence of this difficulty which invariably recurs in the introduction\nto every course of philosophical study if treated independently. The\nsubject-matter of every science presents in the first instance two\naspects for consideration: first, the fact that a given object _is_;\nsecondly, the question _what_ it is.\n\nUpon the question of fact in ordinary scientific inquiry little\ndifficulty is experienced. Indeed it might on a cursory view even\nappear ridiculous if the demand were made that we had to prove in\ngeometry, for instance, that there were such objects as space, and\ngeometrical figures, or in astronomy and physics that there was a sun,\nstars, and magnetic phenomena. In these sciences, which are concerned\nwith what is actually presented to sense perception, objects are\naccepted from objective experience, and so far from it being regarded\nnecessary to demonstrate (_beweisen_) them, it is deemed sufficient\nto point to (_weisen_) the bare facts. Yet even within the limits of\nnon-philosophical instruction doubts may arise as to the existence of\ncertain objects. In psychology, for example, the science of mind, the\ndoubt is possible whether there _is_ a soul, an intelligence, _i.e._,\nsomething distinct from material conditions, something immaterial[33],\nindependent and self-substantive, or in the theology whether a God\nactually _exists._ Moreover, assuming the objects of the science to be\nthus immaterial, in other words, merely present in the mind, and not a\npart of the objective world we perceive, we have to face the possible\nconviction that there is nothing in the mind, but that which it has\nevoked in virtue of its own activity. This brings up incidentally the\nquestion whether men have produced this idea or intuition which is\ninward to their minds or not, and even if we do actually accept the\nfirst alternative, whether they have not made such an idea once more\nto vanish, or depreciated, the same at any rate to an idea of wholly\n_subjective_ validity, whose content possesses no independent or\nself-contained existence[34]. In this way, for example, the beautiful\nhas been frequently regarded as possessing no necessarily essential and\nindependent stability in the world of our ideas; rather it is accepted\nas a pleasure purely personal to ourselves, due to the caprice of our\nsenses[35]. Even our external intuitions, observations and perceptions\nfrequently deceive and lead us astray; but still more is this the case\nwith those ideas that do not arise from sense-perception, even though\nthey possess in themselves the greatest vitality, and are able to\ntransport us into passion, we are powerless to resist.\n\nThis doubt, then, whether an object of the inward world of our ideas\nand intuitions actually exists as an independent fact or not, as also\nthat further incidental problem, whether the particular consciousness\nin question has produced it in itself, and whether the particular\nmode or process, in which it objectified it to itself, is also\nadequate to the object thus envisaged in its essential and independent\nnature--these are precisely the kind of questions which have awakened\nin men the higher demand of philosophy, which is that, even if there\nis every appearance that an object is, or that we have before us\nsuch an object, yet none the less that object must be expounded or\ndemonstrated on the basis of its necessity. A demonstration of this\nkind, if developed on truly philosophical lines, ought at the same time\nto supply a sufficient answer to the question: _What_ a given object\nis. To work this out fully would, however, carry us further than is\nnow possible. We propose to limit ourselves to the following general\nremarks.\n\nIf we are to propound the necessity of our subject-matter, in other\nwords the beauty of art, we are bound to prove that art, or the\nbeautiful, is a result of antecedents such as, when regarded relatively\nto their true notional concept, conduct us with scientific necessity\nto the similar notion of fine art itself. Inasmuch as, however, we\npropose to make art the point of departure, and its idea and the\nobjective presence of the same, and do _not_ propose to deal with the\nantecedent conditions which are essential to the necessary exposition\nof its notional concept, for this reason art, in our treatment of it as\na particular object of scientific inquiry, involves a pre-assumption,\nwhich lies outside the boundary of our investigation; which, implying\nas it does a different content, belongs, as scientifically treated,\nto another course of philosophical inquiry. We have therefore now no\nother alternative than frankly to accept the notional idea of art,\nso to speak, provisionally[36], which is inevitable with every one\nof the _particular_ philosophical sciences, if regarded in their\nabstract isolation. For it is the entire body of philosophy, and that\nalone, which either is or can be the comprehension of the universe\nas one essentially _single_ organic totality; and which, as such a\ntotality, self-evolved from its own notional Idea, and returning into\nitself so as to form a whole in virtue of the necessary principle\nin which it is placed relatively to itself, encloses itself, and\nall that is itself, into one single world of truth. In the coronal\nof this scientific necessity is every particular member thereof a\nself-complete circle which returns into itself, while, at the same\ntime, and as imperatively, it possesses a necessary bond of connection\nwith other parts. This bond of coherence is a backward from which it\nis self-derived, no less than a forward to which it is self-impelled\nonward, in so far as it fruitfully begets fresh material from its\nown resources, and renders the same open and pervious to scientific\ncognition. It is not therefore our purpose to demonstrate the Idea of\nthe beautiful, which is our point of departure, or, in other words,\nto deduce it in all its necessity from the assumptions which are its\nantecedents in philosophy, and from the womb of which it is born. This\nis the object appropriate to an encyclopaedic development of philosophy\nas a whole and in its specific branches. For ourselves the notional\nconcept of the beautiful and art is a pre-supposition supplied us by\nthe system of philosophy. Inasmuch, however, as we are not prepared\nto discuss this system, and the association of art with it in the\npresent context[37], we have not as yet the idea of the beautiful\nbefore us in a _scientific form_: what we have and are able to deal\nwith are simply the phases and aspects of the same as we find them in\nthe various conceptions of beauty and art of our everyday conscious\nlife, or as they have been conceived by previous writers. Having made\nour start at this point we shall then at a later stage pass on to the\nmore fundamental investigation of those views, in order thereby to\nsecure the advantage of, in the first instance, working out a general\nidea of our subject-matter no less than obtaining a provisional\nacquaintance, as a result of our necessarily brief criticism, with its\nhigher principles, which will occupy our thoughts in the inquiry which\nfollows[38]. By this means our final introduction[39] will supply a\nsort of overture to the exposition of the subject itself, and will aim\nat being a general concatenation and direction of our reflection on the\nreal subject-matter before us. What in the first instance is known to\nus under current conceptions of a work of art may be subsumed under the\nthree following determinations:\n\n(1) A work of art is no product of Nature. It is brought into being\nthrough the agency of man.\n\n(2) It is created essentially _for_ man; and, what, is more, it is to a\ngreater-or less degree delivered from a sensuous medium, and addressed\nto his _senses_[40].\n\n(3) It contains an _end_ bound up with it.\n\n1. With regard to the first point, that a work of art is a product of\nhuman activity, an inference has been drawn from this (_a_) that such\nan activity, being the conscious production of an external object can\nalso be _known_ and _divulged_, and learned and reproduced by others.\nFor that which one is able to effect, another--such is the notion--is\nable to effect or to imitate[41], when he has once simply mastered the\nway of doing it. In short we have merely to assume an acquaintance with\nthe rules of art-production universally shared, and anybody may then,\nif he cares to do so, give effect to executive ability of the same\ntype, and produce works of art. It is out of reasoning of this kind\nthat the above-mentioned theories, with their provision of rules, and\ntheir prescriptions formulated for practical acceptance, have arisen.\nUnfortunately that which is capable of being brought into effect in\naccordance with suggestions of this description can only be something\nformally regular and mechanical. For only that which is mechanical is\nof so exterior a type that only an entirely empty effort of will and\ndexterity is required to accept it among our working conceptions, and\nforthwith to carry it out; an effort, in fact, which is not under the\nnecessity to contribute out of its own resources anything concrete such\nas is quite outside the prescriptive power of such general rules.\n\nThis is apparent with most vividness when precepts of this kind are not\nlimited to what is purely external and mechanical, but extend their\npretensions to the activity of the artist in the sense that implies\nwealth of significance and intelligence. In this field our rules pass\noff to purely indefinite generalities, such as \"the theme ought to be\ninteresting, and each individual person must speak as is appropriate\nto his status, age, sex and situation.\" But if rules are really to\nsuffice for such a purpose their directions ought to be formulated\nwith such directness of detail that, without any further co-operation\nof mind, they could be executed precisely in the manner they are\nprescribed. Such rules being, in respect to this content, abstract,\nclearly and entirely fall short of their pretension of being able to\ncomplete[42] the artistic consciousness. Artistic production is not a\nformal activity in accordance with a series of definitions; it is, as\nan activity of soul, constrained to work out of its own wealth, and\nto bring before the mind's eye a wholly other and far richer content,\nand a more embracing and unique[43] creation than ever can be thus\nprescribed. In particular cases such rules may prove, of assistance,\nin so far, that is, as they contain something really definite and\nconsequently useful for practice. But even here their guidance will\nonly apply to conditions wholly external.\n\n(_b_) This above indicated tendency has consequently been wholly given\nup; but writers in doing so have only fallen as unreservedly into\nthe opposite extreme. A work of art came to be looked upon, and so\nfar rightly, as no longer the product of an activity _shared by all\nmen_, but rather as a creation of a mind gifted in an extraordinary\ndegree. A mind of this type has in this view _merely_ to give free\nvent to its peculiar endowment, regarded as a specific natural power.\nIt has to free itself absolutely from a pursuit of rules of universal\napplication, as also from any admixture of conscious reflection with\nits creative and, as thus viewed, wholly instinctive powers, or rather\nit should be on its guard therefrom, the assumption being that such\nan exercise of conscious thought can only act on its creations as an\ninfection and a taint. Agreeably to such a view the work of art has\nbeen heralded as the product of _talent_ and _genius_; and it is mainly\nthe aspect of natural gift inseparable from the ordinary conception of\ntalent and genius, which has been emphasized. There is to some extent\nreal truth in this. Talent is specific, genius universal capacity. With\nneither[44] of these can a man endow himself _simply_ by the exercise\nof his self-conscious activity. We shall consider this at greater\nlength in a subsequent chapter[45].\n\nIn the present context we would merely draw attention to the false\nassumption in this view that in artistic production every kind of\nself-reflection upon the artist's own activity was regarded as not\nmerely superfluous, but actually injurious. In such a view the\nprocess of creation by talent or genius simply is taken to be a\ngeneral _state_; or we may define it more precisely as a condition of\ninspiration. To such a condition, it is said, genius is in some measure\nexalted by the subject-matter itself; it is also to some extent\nvoluntarily able to place itself under such a condition, a process of\nself-inhibition in which the genial service of the champagne bottle\nis not forgotten[46]. An idea of this kind was in vogue during the\nso-called \"Epoch of Genius,\" which originated with the early poetical\nwork of Goethe, receiving subsequent illustration in those of Schiller.\nThese poets by their rejection of all rules hitherto fabricated made\nas it were an entirely new start; with deliberate intention they ran\ncounter to such rules, and while doing so distanced all competitors by\nmany lengths. I do not, however, propose to discuss with more detail\nthe confusions which have prevailed over the conception of inspiration\nand genius, and the notion, which even at the present day finds\nadvocates, that inspiration simply by itself can effect anything and\neverything. The real and indeed sole point to maintain as essential is\nthe thesis that although artistic talent and genius essentially implies\nan element of natural power, yet it is equally indispensable that it\nshould be thoughtfully cultivated, that reflection should be brought\nto bear on the particular way it is exercised, and that it should be\nalso kept alive with use and practice in actual work. The fact is\nthat an important aspect of the creating process is merely facility\nin the use of a medium[47]; that is to say, a work of art possesses a\npurely technical side, which extends to the borders of mere handicraft.\nThis is most obviously the case in architecture and sculpture, less\nso in painting and music, least of all in poetry. A facility here\nis not assisted at all by inspiration; what solely indispensable is\nreflection, industry, and practice. Such technical skill an artist\nsimply _must_ possess in order that he may be master over the external\nmaterial, and not be thwarted by its obstinacy.\n\nAdd to this that the more exalted the rank of an artist the more\nprofoundly ought he to portray depths of soul and mind; and these are\nnot to be known by flashlight, but are exclusively to be sounded, if\nat all, by the direction of the man's own intelligence on the world\nof souls and the objective world. In this respect, therefore, once\nmore _study_ is the means whereby the artist brings to consciousness\nsuch a content, and appropriates the material and structure of his\nconceptions. At the same time no doubt one art will require such a\nconscious reception and cognitive mastery of the content in question\nmore than another. Music, for example, which has exclusively to deal\nwith the entirely undefined motion of the soul within, with the musical\ntones of that which is, relatively, feeling denuded of positive\nthought, has little or no need to bring home to consciousness the\nsubstance of intellectual conception[48]. For this very reason musical\ntalent declares itself as a rule in very early youth, when the head\nis still empty and the emotions have barely had a flutter; it has, in\nfact, attained real distinction at a time in the artist's life when\nboth intelligence and life are practically without experience. And\nfor the matter of that we often enough see very great accomplishment\nin musical composition and execution hung together with considerable\nindigence of mind and character. It is quite another matter in the\ncase of poetry. What is of main importance here is a presentation\nof our humanity rich in subject-matter and reflective power, of its\nprofounder interests, and of the forces which move it. Here at least\nmind and heart must themselves be richly and profoundly disciplined\nby life, experience, and thought before genius itself can bring\ninto being the fruit that is ripe, the content that has substance,\nand is essentially consummate. The early productions of Goethe and\nSchiller are characterized by an immaturity, we may even call it a\nrawness and barbarity, which really are appalling. This phenomenon,\nthat in the majority of those experiments we find a preponderating\nmass of features which are absolutely prosaic, or at least uninspired\nand commonplace, is a main objection to the ordinary notion that\ninspiration is inseparable from youth and its sirocco season. These two\nmen of genius were the first beyond question to give our nation true\nworks of poetry, are, in fact, our national poets; but for all that it\nwas only their mature manhood, which made it a present of creations\nprofound, sterling of their kind, creations of genuine inspiration, and\nno less technically complete in their artistic form[49]. We naturally\nrecall the case of the veteran Homer, who only composed and uttered his\nimmortal songs in his old age.\n\n(_c_) A third view, held relatively to the idea of a work of art as a\nproduct of human activity, concerns the position of such towards the\nphenomena of Nature. The natural tendency of ordinary thinking in this\nrespect is to assume that the product of human art is of _subordinate_\nrank to the works of Nature. The work of art possesses no feeling of\nits own; it is not through and through a living thing, but, regarded as\nan external object, is a dead thing. It is usual to regard that which\nis alive of higher worth than what is dead. We may admit, of course,\nthat the work of art is not in itself capable of movement and alive.\nThe living, natural thing is, whether looked at within or without, an\norganization with the life-purpose of such worked out into the minutest\ndetail. The work of art merely attains to the show of animation on\nits surface. Below this it is ordinary stone, wood, or canvas[50],\nor in the case of poetry idea, the medium of such being speech and\nletters. But this element of external existence is not that which makes\na work a creation of fine art. A work of art is only truly such in\nso far as originating in the human spirit, it continues to belong to\nthe soil from which it sprang, has received, in short, the baptism of\nthe mind and soul of man, and only presents that which is fashioned\nin consonance with such a sacrament. An interest vital to man, the\nspiritual values which the single event, one individual character, one\naction possesses in its devolution and final issue, is seized in the\nwork of art and emphasized with greater purity[51] and clarity than\nis possible on the ground of ordinary reality where human art is not.\nAnd for this reason the work of art is of higher rank than any product\nof Nature whatever, which has not submitted to this passage through\nthe mind. In virtue of the emotion and insight, for example, in the\natmosphere of which a landscape is portrayed by the art of painting,\nthis creation of the human spirit assumes a higher rank than the purely\nnatural landscape. Everything which partakes of spirit is better than\nanything begotten of mere Nature. However this may be, the fact remains\nthat no purely natural existence is able, as art is, to represent\ndivine ideals.\n\nAnd further, all that the mind borrows from its own ideal content\nit is able, even in the direction of external existence, to endow\nwith _permanence._ The individual living thing on the contrary is\ntransitory; it vanishes and is unstable in its external aspect. The\nwork of art persists. At the same time it is not mere continuation, but\nrather the form and pressure thereon of the mintage of soul-life which\nconstitutes its true pre-eminence as contrasted with Nature's reality.\n\nBut this higher position we have thus assigned to the work of art is\nyet further contested by another prevalent conception of ordinary\nideas. It is contended that Nature and all that proceeds from her are\na work of God, created by His goodness and wisdom. The work of art\nis on the contrary _merely_ a human product fashioned by human hands\naccording to human design. The fallacy implied in this contrast between\nthe products of Nature viewed as a divine creation and human activity\nas of wholly finite energy consists in the apparent assumption that\nGod is not operative in and through man, but limits the sphere of His\nactivity to Nature alone. We must place this false conception entirely\non one side if we are desirous of penetrating to the true idea of art;\nor rather, as opposed to such a conception we ought to accept the\nextreme opposite thereto, namely, that God is more honoured by that\nwhich mind makes and creates than by everything brought into being and\nfashioned in the natural process. For not only is there a divinity in\nman, but it is actually effective in him in a form which is adequate to\nthe essential nature of God in a far higher degree than in the work of\nNature. God is a Spirit, and it is only in man that the medium, through\nwhich the Divine passes, possesses the form of spirit fully conscious\nof the activity in which it manifests its ideal presence. In Nature\nthe medium correspondent to this is the unconscious sensuous[52] and\nexternal _materia_, which is by many degrees inferior to consciousness\nin its worth. In the products of art God works precisely as He works\nthrough the phenomena of Nature. The divine substance, however, as it\nis asserted in the work of art has secured, being begotten of spirit\nlife itself, a highway commensurable to its existence; determinate\nexistence in the unconscious sensuousness of Nature is not a mode of\nappearance adequate to the Divine Being.\n\n(_d_) Assuming, then, that the work of art is a creation of man in\nthe sense that it is the offspring of mind or spirit we have still\na further question in conclusion, which will help us to draw a more\nprofound inference still from our previous discussion. That question\nis, \"What is the human _need_ which stimulates art-production?\" On the\none hand the artistic activity may be regarded as the mere play of\naccident, or human conceits, which might just as well be left alone\nas attempted. For, it may be urged, there are other and better means\nfor carrying into effect the aims of art, and man bears within himself\nhigher and more weighty interests, than art is capable of satisfying.\nIn contrast to such a view art appears to originate in a higher\nimpulse, and to satisfy more elevated needs, nay, at certain times the\nhighest and most absolute of all, being, as it has been, united to the\nmost embracing views of entire epochs and nations upon the constitution\nof the world and the nature of their religion.\n\nThis inquiry, however, concerning a necessity for art which shall not\nbe merely contingent, but absolute, we are not as yet able to answer\nwith completeness; it demands, in fact, a concreter mode of exposition\nthan is compatible with the form of this introduction. We must\naccordingly deem it sufficient for the present merely to establish the\nfollowing points.\n\nThe universal and absolute want from which art on its side of essential\nform[53] arises originates in the fact that man is a _thinking_\nconsciousness, in other words that he renders explicit _to himself_ and\nfrom his own substance[54], what he is and all in fact that exists.\nThe objects of Nature exist exclusively in immediacy and _once for\nall._[55] Man, on the contrary, as mind _reduplicates_ himself. He is,\nto start with, an object of Nature as other objects; but in addition to\nthis, and no less truly, he exists _for himself_; he observes himself,\nmakes himself present to his imagination and thought, and only in\nvirtue of this active power of self-realization is he actually mind\nor spirit. This consciousness of himself man acquires in a twofold\nway; in the _first_ instance _theoretically._ This is so in so far as\nhe is under a constraint to bring himself in his own inner life to\nconsciousness--all which moves in the human heart, all that surges up\nand strives therein--and generally, so far as he is impelled to make\nhimself an object of perception and conception, to fix for himself\ndefinitively that which thought discovers as essential being, and in\nall that he summons out of himself, no less than in that which is\nreceived from without, to recognize only himself. And _secondly_, this\nrealization is effected through a _practical_ activity. In other words\nman possesses an impulse to assert himself in that which is presented\nhim in immediacy, in that which is at hand as an external something\nto himself, and by doing so at the same time once more to recognize\nhimself therein. This purpose he achieved by the alteration he effects\nin such external objects, upon which he imprints the seal of his inner\nlife, rediscovering in them thereby the features of his own determinate\nnature. And man does all this, in order that he may as a free agent\ndivest the external world of its stubborn alienation from himself--and\nin order that he may enjoy in the configuration of objective fact an\nexternal reality simply of himself. The very first impulse of the child\nimplies in essentials this practical process of deliberate change in\nexternal fact. A boy throws stones into the stream, and then looks\nwith wonder at the circles which follow in the water, regarding them\nas a result in which he sees something of his own doing. This human\nneed runs through the most varied phenomena up to that particular\nform of self-reproduction in the external fact which is presented us\nin human art. And it is not merely in relation to external objects\nthat man acts thus. He treats himself, that is, his natural form, in\na similar manner: he will not permit it to remain as he finds it; he\nalters it deliberately. This is the rational ground of all ornament\nand decoration, though it may be as barbarous, tasteless, entirely\ndisfiguring, nay, as injurious as the crushing of the feet of Chinese\nladies, or the slitting of ears and lips. For it is among the really\ncultured alone that a change of figure, behaviour, and every mode and\nmanner of self-expression will issue in harmony with the dictates of\nmental elevation[56].\n\nThis universal demand for artistic expression[57] is based on the\nrational impulse in man's nature to exalt both the world of his soul\nexperience and that of Nature for himself into the conscious embrace\nof mind as an object in which he rediscovers himself. He satisfies\nthe demand of this spiritual freedom by making explicit to, his\n_inner_ life all that exists, no less than from the further point of\nview giving a realized _external_ embodiment to the self made thus\nexplicit. And by this reduplication of what is his own he places\nbefore the vision and within the cognition of himself and others what\nis within him. This is the free rationality of man, in which art as\nalso all action and knowledge originates. We shall investigate at\na later stage the specific need for art as compared with that for\nother political and ethical action, or that for religious ideas and\nscientific knowledge.\n\n2. We have hitherto considered the work of art under the aspect that\nit is fashioned by man; we will now pass over to the second part of\nour definition, that it is produced for his _sense-apprehension_,\nand consequently is to a more or less degree under obligations to a\nsensuous medium.\n\n(_a_) This reflection has been responsible for the inference that the\nfunction of fine art is to arouse feeling, more precisely the feeling\nwhich suits us--that is, pleasant feeling. From such a point of view\nwriters have converted the investigation of fine art into a treatise on\nthe emotions and asked what kind of feelings art ought to excite--take\nfear, for example, and compassion--with the further question how such\ncan be regarded as pleasant, how, in short, the contemplation of a\nmisfortune can bring satisfaction. This tendency of reflection dates\nfor the most part from the times of Moses Mendelssohn, and many such\ntrains of reasoning may be found in his writings. A discussion of\nthis kind, however, did not carry the problem far. Feeling is the\nundefined obscure region of spiritual life. What is felt, remains\ncloaked in the form of the separate personal experience under its\nmost abstract persistence[58]; and for this reason the distinctions\nof feeling are wholly abstract; they are not distinctions which apply\nto the subject-matter itself. To take examples--fear, anxiety, care,\ndread, are of course one type of emotion under various modifications;\nbut in part they are purely quantitative degrees of intensity, and in\npart forms which reflect no light, on their content itself, but are\nindifferent to it. In the case of fear, for instance, an existence is\nassumed, for which the individual in question possesses an interest,\nbut sees at the same time the negative approach which threatens to\ndestroy this existence, and thereupon discovers in immediate fusion\nwithin himself the above interest and the approach of that negative as\na contradictory affection of his personal life. A fear of this sort,\nhowever, does not on its own account condition any particular content;\nit may associate with itself subject-matter of the most opposed and\nvaried character. The feeling merely as such is in short a wholly empty\nform of a subjective state. Such a form may no doubt in certain cases\nitself be essentially complex, as we find it is with hope, pain, joy,\nand pleasure; it may also in this very complexity appropriate various\nmodes of content, as, for example, we have a feeling of justice, an\nethical feeling, a sublime religious feeling, and so forth; but despite\nthe fact that a content of this kind is present in different modes of\nfeeling, no light whatever is thereby thrown on such content which will\ndisclose its essential and definite character. The feeling throughout\nremains a purely subjective state which belongs to me, one in which\nthe concrete fact vanishes, as though contracted to a vanishing point\nin the most abstract of all spheres[59]. For this reason an inquiry\nover the nature of the emotions which art ought or ought not to arouse,\ncomes simply to a standstill in the undefined; it is an investigation\nwhich deliberately abstracts from genuine content and its concrete\nsubstance and notion. Reflection upon feeling is satisfied with the\nobservation of the personal emotional state and its singularity,\ninstead of penetrating and sounding the matter for study, in other\nwords the work of art, and in doing so bidding good-bye to the wholly\nsubjective state and its conditions. In feeling, however, it is just\nthis subjective state void of content which is not merely accepted,\nbut becomes the main thing; and that is precisely why people are so\nproud of having emotions. And for no other reason that is why such an\ninvestigation is tedious owing to its indefinite nature and emptiness,\nand even repellent in its attention to trivial personal idiosyncrasies.\n\n(_b_) Inasmuch, however, as the work of art is not merely concerned\nwith exciting some kind of emotion or other--for this is an object it\nwould share without any valid distinction with eloquence, historical\ncomposition, religious edification and much else--but is only a work\nof art in so far as it is beautiful, it occurred to reflective minds\nto discover a _specific feeling for beauty_, and a distinct _sense\nfaculty_ correspondent with it. In such an inquiry it soon became\nclear that a sense of this kind was no definite and mere[60] instinct\nrigidly fixed by Nature, which was able by itself and independently\nto distinguish the beautiful. As a consequence the demand was made\nfor _culture_ as a condition precedent to such a sense, and the sense\nof beauty as thus cultivated was called _taste_, which, albeit an\ninstructed apprehension and discovery of the beautiful, was none the\nless assumed to persist in the character of immediate feeling. We\nhave already discussed the way in which abstract theory attempted\nto form such a sense of taste, and how external and one-sided that\nsense remained. While the critical sense generally of the time when\nsuch ideas were in currency was lacking in the _universality_ of its\nprinciples, as a _specific_ critique of particular works of art it\nwas less concerned to substantiate a judgment _more decisive_ than\nhitherto--indeed the material to effectuate this was not as yet\nforthcoming--than to promote in a general way the _cultivation_ of such\na taste[61]. Consequently this educative process also came to a halt\nin the region of the more indefinite, and merely busied itself by its\nreflections in the fitting out of feeling as a sense of beauty in such\na way that beauty could immediately be discovered whenever and wherever\nit might chance to appear. The real depth of the subject-matter\nremained notwithstanding a closed book to such a taste. Profundity of\nthis kind demands not merely sensitive reception and abstract thought,\nbut the reason in its concrete grasp and the most sterling qualities\nof soul-life. Taste on the contrary is merely directed to the outside\nsurfaces, which are the playground of the feelings, and upon which\none-sided principles may very well pass, as currency. But for this very\nreason our so-called good taste is scared by every kind of profounder\nartistic effect, and is dumb where the ideal significance[62] is in\nquestion, and all mere externalities and accessories vanish. For when\ngreat passions and the movements of a profound soul assert themselves,\nwe do not bother ourselves any more with the finer distinctions of\ntaste and its retail traffic in trifles. It is[63] conscious that\ngenius leaves such ground far behind it in its stride; and shrinking\nbefore that power feels on its part far from comfortable, not knowing\nvery well which way to turn.\n\n(_c_) Thus it is the further change has come about that critics of\nart-production no longer have an eye simply to the education of taste,\nor are intent upon the illustration of such a sense. The _connoisseur_,\nor art-scholar, has taken the place of the man, or judge of artistic\ntaste. The positive side of art-scholarship, in so far as it implies\na sound and exhaustive acquaintance with the entire embrace of what\nis distinctive and peculiar in a given work of art, we have already\nmaintained to be a necessary condition of artistic research. A work of\nart, owing to its nature, which, if it is material from one point of\nview, is also related to a particular person, originates from specific\nconditions of the most varied kind, among which as exceptionally\nimportant we may mention the date and place of its origins, the\ncharacteristic personality of the artist, and, above all, the degree\nof executive accomplishment secured by the art. All these points\nof view have to be taken into consideration if we wish to obtain a\nview and knowledge of such a work which is clear in its outlines, and\nfounded on a true basis, nay, even wish to enjoy it rightly. It is\nwith these that our art-scholarship is mainly occupied; and all that\nit can do for us in this way should be gratefully accepted. Though it\nis quite true such art-scholarship must be reckoned as of essential\nimportance, it ought not to be regarded as the sole, or indeed the\nhighest, constituent in the relation of the contemplative spirit to\na work of art and art generally. Such art-scholarship (this is the\ndefective tendency) may restrict itself wholly to a knowledge of purely\nexternal characteristics, either on the side of technique or historical\ncondition, or in other directions; it may continue to possess the\nbarest inkling of the true nature of a given work, or simply no\nknowledge at all. It may even form a depreciatory verdict on the\nvalue of profounder inquiries as compared with purely matter of fact,\ntechnical, and historical knowledge. Yet even so an art-scholarship,\nassuming it to be really genuine and thorough, at least proceeds upon\ngrounds and knowledge which are definite, and an intelligent judgment;\nand it is association with such that our more accurate review of the\ndistinct, if also to some extent exterior, aspects of a work of art,\nand our estimate of their relative significance, is secured.\n\n(_d_) Following the above observations upon the modes of inquiry which\nwere suggested by that aspect of a work of art in which, as itself an\nobject with a material medium, it possessed an essential relation to\nman as himself receptive through sense, we will now examine this point\nof view in its more essential connection with art itself. We propose to\ndo this partly (\u03b1) in respect to the art-product viewed as an object,\npartly (\u03b2) as regards the personal characteristics of the artist, his\ngenius, talent, and so forth. We do not, however, propose to enter\ninto matter which can in this connection exclusively proceed from the\nknowledge of art according to its universal concept[64]. The truth\nis we are not as yet in the full sense on scientific ground; we have\nmerely reached the province of external reflection.\n\n(\u03b1) There is no question, then, that a work of art is presented to\nsensuous apprehension. It is submitted to the emotional sense, whether\nouter or inner, to sensuous perception and the imaged sense, precisely\nas the objective world is so presented around us, or as is our own\ninward sensitive nature. Even a speech, for example, may be addressed\nto the sensuous imagination and feeling. Notwithstanding this fact,\nhowever, the work of art is not exclusively directed to the _sensuous_\napprehension, viewed, that is, as an object materially conditioned. Its\nposition is of the nature, that along with its sensuous presentation it\nis fundamentally addressed to the _mind._ The mind is intended to be\naffected by it and to receive some kind of satisfaction in it.\n\nThis function of the work of art at once makes it clear how it is that\nit is in no way intended to be a natural product or, on the side where\nit impinges on Nature, to possess the living principle of Nature. This,\nat least, is a fact whether the natural product is ranked lower or\nhigher than a _mere_ work of art, as people are accustomed to express\nthemselves in the tone of depreciation.\n\nIn other words the sensuous aspect of a work of art has a right to\ndeterminate existence only in so far as it exists for the human mind,\nnot, however, in so far as itself, as a material object, exists for\nitself independently.\n\nIf we examine more closely in what way the sensuous _materia_ is\npresented to man we find that what is so can be placed under various\nrelations to the mind.\n\n(\u03b1\u03b1) The lowest in grade and that least compatible with relation to\nintelligence is purely sensuous sensation. It consists primarily in\nmere looking, listening, just as in times of mental overstrain it may\noften be a relaxation to go about without thought, and merely listen\nand have a look round. The mind, however, does not rest in the mere\napprehension of external objects through sight and hearing; it makes\nthem objective to its own inward nature, which thereupon, is impelled\nitself to give effect to itself in these things as a further step\nunder a sensuous mode, in other words, it relates itself to them as\n_desire._ In this appetitive relation to the external world man, as a\nsensuous[65] particular thing, stands in a relation of opposition, to\nthings in general as in the same way particulars. He does not address\nhimself to them with open mind and the universal ideas of thought; he\nretains an isolated position, with its personal impulses and interests,\nrelatively to objects as fixed in their obduracy as himself, and makes\nhimself at home in them by using them, or eating them up altogether,\nand, in short, gives effect to his self-satisfaction by the sacrifice\nhe makes of them. In this negative relation desire requires for itself\nnot merely the superficial show of external objects, but the actual\nthings themselves in their material concrete existence. Mere pictures\nof the wood, which it seeks to make use of, or of the animals, which it\nhopes to eat up, would be of no service to desire. Just as little is it\npossible for desire to suffer the object to remain in its freedom; its\ncraving is just this to force it to annihilate this self-subsistency\nand freedom of external facts, and to demonstrate that these things\nare only there to be destroyed and devoured. But at the same time\nthe particular person is neither himself free, begirt as he is by\nthe particular limited and transitory interests of his desires, for\nhis definite acts do not proceed from the essential universality and\nrationality of his will, neither is he free relatively to the external\nworld, for desire[66] remains essentially determined by things and\nrelated to them.\n\nThis relation, then, of desire is not that in which man is related to\nthe work of art. He suffers it to exist in its free independence as\nan object; he associates himself with it without any craving of this\nkind, rather as with an object reflective of himself[67], which exists\nsolely for the contemplative faculty of mind. For this reason, as we\nhave said, the work of art, although it possesses sensuous existence,\ndoes not require sensuous concrete existence, nor yet the animated life\nof such objects. Or, rather, we should add, it _ought_ not to remain\non such a level, in so far as its true function is exclusively to\nsatisfy spiritual interests, and to shut the door on all approach to\nmere desire. Hence we can understand how it is that practical desire\nrates the particular works of Nature in the organic or inorganic world,\nwhich are at its service, more highly than works of art, which are\nobviously useless in this sense, and only contribute enjoyment to other\ncapacities of man's spirit.\n\n(\u03b2\u03b2) A second mode under which the externally present comes before\nthe conscious subject is, as contrasted with the single sensuous\nperception and active desire, the purely theoretical relation to\nthe _intelligence._ The theoretic contemplation of objects has no\ninterest in consuming the same in their particularity and satisfying\nor maintaining itself through the sense by their means; its object\nis to attain a knowledge of them in their _universality_, to seek\nout their ideal nature and principle, to comprehend them according\nto their notional idea. Consequently this contemplative interest is\ncontent to leave the particular things as they are, and stands aloof\nfrom them in their objective singularity, which is not the object of\nsuch a faculty's investigation. For the rational intelligence is not\na property of the particular person in the sense that desire is so;\nit appertains to his singularity as being itself likewise essentially\nuniversal. So long as it persists in this relation of universality to\nthe objects in question, it is his reason in its universal potency\nwhich is attempting to discover _itself_ in Nature, and thereby the\ninward or essential being of the natural objects, which his sensuous\nexistence does not present under its mode of immediacy, although such\nexistence is founded therein. This interest of contemplation, the\nsatisfaction of which is the task of _science_, is, however, shared in\nthis scientific form just as little by art as it shared in the common\ntable of those impulses of the purely practical desire. Science can,\nit is true, take as its point of departure the sensuous thing in its\nsingularity, and possess itself of some conception, how this individual\nthing is present in its specific colour or form. But for all that this\nisolated thing of sense as such possesses no further relation to mind,\ninasmuch as the interest of intelligence makes for the universal,\nthe law, the thought and notion of the object, and consequently not\nonly does it forsake it in its immediate singularity, but it actually\ntransforms it within the region of idea[68], converting a concrete\nobject of sense into an abstract subject-matter of thought, that is\nconverting it into something other than the same object of its sensuous\nperception actually was. The artistic interest does not follow such\na process, and is distinct from that of science for this reason.\nThe contemplation of art restricts its interest simply in the way\nin which the work of art, as external object, in the directness of\nits definition, and in the singularity wherein it appears to sense,\nis manifested in all its features of colour, form, and sound, or as\na single isolated vision of the whole; it does not go so far beyond\nthe immediately received objective character as to propose, as is the\ncase with science, the ideal or conceptive thinking of this particular\nobjectivity under the terms of the rational and universal notion which\nunderlies it.\n\nThe interest of art, therefore, is distinguishable from the practical\ninterest of desire in virtue of the fact that it suffers its object to\nremain in its free independence, whereas desire applies it, even to the\npoint of destruction, to its own uses. The contemplation of art, on\nthe other hand, differs from that of a scientific intelligence in an\nanalogous way[69] in virtue of the fact that it cherishes an interest\nfor the object in its isolated existence, and is not concerned to\ntransform the same into terms of universal thought and notion.\n\n(\u03b3\u03b3) It follows, then, that, though the sensuous _materia_ is\nunquestionably present in a work of art, it is only as surface or\n_show_ of the sensuous that it is under any necessity to appear. In\nthe sensuous appearance of the work of art it is neither the concrete\nmaterial stuff, the empirically perceived completeness and extension\nof the internal organism which is the object of desire, nor is it the\nuniversal thought of pure ideality, which in either case the mind\nseeks for. Its aim is the sensuous presence, which, albeit suffered\nto persist in its sensuousness, is equally entitled to be delivered\nfrom the framework of its purely material substance. Consequently, as\ncompared with the immediately envisaged and incorporated object of\nNature, the sensuous presence in the work of art is transmuted to mere\nsemblance or _show_, and the work of art occupies a midway ground, with\nthe directly perceived objective world on one side and the ideality of\npure thought on the other. It is not as yet pure thought, but, despite\nthe element of sensuousness which adheres to it, it is no longer purely\nmaterial existence, in the sense at least that stones, plants, and\norganic life are such. The sensuous element in a work of art is rather\nitself somewhat of ideal intension[70], which, however, as not being\nactually the ideal medium of thought, is still externally presented at\nthe same time as an object. This semblance of the sensuous presents\nitself to the mind externally as the form, visible appearance, and\nharmonious vibration of things. This is always assuming that it suffers\nthe objects to remain in their freedom as objective facts, and does not\nseek to penetrate into their inward essence by abstract thought, for by\ndoing so they would (as above explained) entirely cease to exist for it\nin their external singularity.\n\nFor this reason the sensuous aspect of art is only related to the two\n_theoretical_[71] senses of _sight_ and _hearing_; smell, on the other\nhand, taste, and the feeling of touch are excluded from the springs of\nart's enjoyment. Smell, taste, and touch come into contact with matter\nsimply as such[72], and with the immediate sensuous qualities of the\nsame; smell with the material volatization through the air; taste with\nthe material dissolution of substance, and touch or mere bodily feeling\nwith qualities such as heat, coldness, smoothness, and so forth. On\nthis account these senses cannot have to do with the objects of art,\nwhich ought to subsist in their actual and very independence, admitting\nof no purely sensuous or rather physical relation. The pleasant for\nsuch senses is not the beauty of art. Thus art on its sensuous side\nbrings before us deliberately merely a shadow-world of shapes, tones,\nand imaged conceptions[73], and it is quite beside the point to\nmaintain that it is simply a proof of the impotence and limitations\nof man that he can only present us with the surface of the physical\nworld, mere _schemata_, when he calls into being his creative works. In\nart these sensuous shapes and tones are not offered as exclusively for\nthemselves and their form to our direct vision. They are presented with\nthe intent to secure in such shape satisfaction for higher and more\nspiritual interests, inasmuch as they are mighty to summon an echo and\nresponse in the human spirit evoked from all depths of its conscious\nlife. In this way the sensuous is _spiritualized_ in art, or, in other\nwords, the life of _spirit_ comes to dwell in it under sensuous guise.\n\n(\u03b2) For this reason, however, a product of art is only possible in\nso far as it has received its passage through the mind, and has\noriginated from the productive activity of mind. This brings us to\nanother question we have to answer, and it is this: \"How is the\nsensuous or material aspect, which is imperative as a condition of\nart, operative in the artist as conjoined to his personal productive\nactivity[74]?\" Now this mode or manner of artistic production contains,\nas an activity personal to the artist, in essentials just the same\ndeterminants which we found posited in the work of art. It must be\na spiritual activity, which, however, at the same time possesses in\nitself the element of sensuousness and immediacy. It is neither, on\nthe one hand, purely mechanical work, such as is purely unconscious\nfacility in sleight of hand upon physical objects, or a stereotyped\nactivity according to teachable rule of thumb; nor, on the other\nhand, is it a productive process of science, which tends to pass\nfrom sensuous things to abstract ideas and thoughts, or is active\nexclusively in the medium of pure thought. In contrast to these the\ntwo aspects of mental idea and sensuous material must in the artistic\nproduct be united. For example, it would be possible in the case of\npoetical compositions to attempt to embody what was the subject-matter\nin the form of prosaic thought in the first instance, and only after\ndoing so to attach to the same imaginative ideas rhymes and so on,\nso that as a net result such imagery would be appendent to the\nabstract reflections as so much ornament and decoration. An attempt\nof this kind, however, could only lead us to a poor sort of poetry,\nfor in it we should have operative a twofold kind of activity in its\n_separation_, which in the activity of genuine artistic work only\nholds good in inseparable unity. It is this true kind of creative\nactivity which forms what is generally described as the artistic\n_imagination_. It is the rational element, which in its import as\nspirit only exists, in so far as it actively forces its way into the\npresence of consciousness, yet likewise, and only subject to this\ncondition, displays all its content to itself under a sensuous form.\nThis activity possesses therefore a spiritual content, but it clothes\nthe same in sensuous image, and for this reason that it is only able\nto come to a knowledge of the same under this sensuous garb. We may\ncompare such a process with that of a man of experience in life, a man,\nshall we add, of real geniality and wit, who--while at the same time\nbeing fully conscious in what the main importance of life consists,\nwhat are the things which essentially bind men together, what moves\nthem and is the mainspring of their lives--nevertheless has neither\nbrought home this content in universal maxims, nor indeed is able to\nunfold it to others in the generalities of the reflective process, but\nmakes these mature results of his intelligence without exception clear\nto himself and others in particular cases, whether real or invented,\nor by examples and such like which hit the mark. For in the ideas of\nsuch a man everything shapes itself into the concrete image determinate\nin its time and place, to which therefore the addition of names and\nany other detail of external condition causes no difficulty. Yet such\na kind of imagination rather rests on the recollection of conditions,\nhe has lived through, actual experience, than it is a creative\npower of itself. Memory preserves and renews the particularity and\nexternal fashion of such previous events with all their more distinct\ncircumstances, but on the other hand does not suffer the universal\nto appear independently. The creative imagination of an artist is\nthe imagination of a great mind and a big heart; it is the grasp and\nexcogitation of ideas and shapes, and, in fact, nothing less than\nthis grasp of the profoundest and most embracing human interests in\nthe wholly definite presentation of imagery borrowed from objective\nexperience. A consequence of this is, that imagination of this type[75]\nis based in a certain sense on a natural gift, a general talent for\nit, as we say, because its creative power essentially implies an\naspect of sense presentation. It is no doubt not unusual to speak in\nthe same way of scientific \"talent.\" The sciences, however, merely\npresuppose the general capacity for thought, which does not possess, as\nimagination does, together with its intellectual activity, a reference\nto the concrete testimony of Nature, but rather precisely abstracts\nfrom the activity that form in which we find it in Nature. It would be,\ntherefore, truer to the mark if we said there is no specific scientific\ntalent in the sense of a purely natural endowment. Imagination[76],\non the other hand, combines within it a mode of instinct-like\ncreativeness. In other words the essential plasticity and material\nelement in a work of art is subjectively present in the artist as part\nof his native disposition and impulse[77], and as his unconscious\nactivity belongs in part to that which man receives straight from\nNature. No doubt the entire talent and genius of an individual is\nnot wholly exhausted by that we describe as natural capability. The\ncreation of art is quite as much a spiritual and self-cognized process;\nbut for all that we affirm that its spirituality contains an element\nof plastic or configurative facility which Nature[78] confers on it.\nFor this reason, though almost anybody can reach a certain point in\nart, yet, in order to pass beyond this--and it is here that the art\nin question really begins--a talent for art which is inborn and of a\nhigher order altogether is indispensable.\n\nConsidered simply as a natural basis a talent of this kind asserts\nitself for the most part in early youth, and is manifested in the\nrestless persistency, ever intent with vivacity and alertness, to\ncreate artistic shapes in some particular sensuous medium, and to make\nthis mode of expression and utterance the unique one or the one of\nmain importance and most suitable. And thus also a virtuosity up to a\ncertain point in the technique of art which is arrived at with ease is\na sign of inborn talent. A sculptor finds everything convertible into\nplastic shape, and from early days takes to modelling clay; and so\non generally whatever men of such innate powers have in their minds,\nwhatever excites and moves their souls, becomes forthwith a plastic\nfigure, a drawing, a melody, or a poem.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Thirdly, and in conclusion: the _content_ of art is also in some\nrespects borrowed from the objective world perceived in sense, that\nis Nature; or, in any case, if the content is also of a spiritual\ncharacter, it can only be grasped in such a way, that the spiritual\nelement therein, as human relations, for example, are displayed in the\nform of phenomena which possess objective reality.\n\n3. There is yet another question to solve, namely, what the interest\nor the _End_ is, which man proposes to himself in the creation of the\ncontent embodied by a work of art. This was, in fact, the third point\nof view, which we propounded relatively to the art-product. Its more\ndetailed discussion will finally introduce us to the true notional\nconcept of art itself.\n\nIf we take a glance at our ordinary ideas on this subject, one of the\nmost prevalent is obviously\n\n(_a_) The principle of the imitation of Nature. According to this view\nthe essential aim or object of art consists in imitation, by which is\nunderstood a facility in copying natural forms as present to us in a\nmanner which shall most fully correspond to such facts. The success of\nsuch an exact representation of Nature is assumed to afford us complete\nsatisfaction.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Now in this definition there is to start with absolutely nothing\nbut the formal aim to bring about the bare repetition a second time\nby man, so far as his means will permit of this, of all that was\nalready in the external world, precisely too in the way it is there. A\nrepetition of this sort may at once be set down as\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) A _superfluous_ task for the reason that everything\nwhich pictures, theatrical performances represent by way of\nimitation--animals, natural scenery, incidents of human life--we have\nalready elsewhere before us in our gardens or at home, or in other\nexamples of the more restricted or extended reaches of our personal\nacquaintance. Looked at, moreover, more closely, such a superfluity of\nenergy can hardly appear otherwise than a presumptuous trifling; it is\nso because\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) It lags so far behind Nature. In other words art is limited in\nits means of representation. It can only produce one-sided illusions,\na semblance, to take one example, of real fact addressed exclusively\nto _one_ sense. And, moreover, if it does wholly rely on the bare\naim of _mere_ imitation, instead of Nature's life all it gives us\never is the mere pretence of its substance. For some such reason the\nTurks, who are Mohammedans, will not put up with any pictures or\ncopies of men and other objects. When James Bruce, in his travels\nthrough Abyssinia, showed a painted fish to a Turk, that worthy was\nat first astonished; but, quickly recovering himself, he made answer\nas follows: \"If this fish shall rise up against you at the last day,\nand say, 'You have certainly given me a body, but no living soul,'\nhow are you going to justify yourself against such a complaint?\" The\nprophet himself, moreover, if we may believe the Sunna, said to the\ntwo women Ommi Hubiba and Ommi Selma, who told him of certain pictures\nin the Aethiopian churches: \"These pictures will rise up in judgment\nagainst their creators on the Last Day.\" There are, no doubt, no less\nexamples of completely deceptive imitation. The painted grapes of\nZeuxis, have been accepted from antiquity and long after as an instance\nof art's triumph, and also of that of the principle of imitation,\nbecause, we are told, actual doves pecked at them. We might add to\nthis ancient example that more modern one of B\u00fcltner's monkey, which\nbit to pieces a painted cockchafer in R\u00f6sel's \"Diversions of Insects,\"\nand was consequently forgiven by his master, although he destroyed by\nthis means a fine copy of the precious work, because he proved thus\nthe excellence of its illustrations. But if we will only reflect a\nmoment on such and other instances we can only come to the conclusion\nthat instead of praising works of art, because they have deceived\n_even_ doves and monkeys, the foolish people ought to be condemned\nwho imagine that the quality of a work of art is enhanced if they are\nable to proclaim an effect of the same so miserable as the supreme\nand last word they can say for it. In short, to sum up, we may state\nemphatically that in the mere business of imitation art cannot maintain\nits rivalry with Nature, and if it makes the attempt it must look like\na worm which undertakes to crawl after an elephant.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Having regard, then, to this invariable failure, that is,\nrelative failure of human imitation as contrasted with the natural\nprototype, we have no end left us but the pleasure offered by sleight\nof hand in its effort to produce something which resembles Nature. And\nit is unquestionably a fact that mankind are able to derive enjoyment\nfrom the attempt to reproduce with their individual labour, skill, and\nindustry what they find around them. But a delight and admiration of\nthis kind also becomes, if taken alone[79], indeed just in proportion\nas the copy follows slavishly the thing copied, so much the more icily\nnull and cold, or brings its reaction of surfeit and repugnance.\nThere are portraits which, as has been drily remarked, are positively\nshameless in their likeness[80]; and Kant brings forward a further\nexample of this pleasure in imitation pure and simple to the effect\nthat we are very soon tired of a man--and there really are such--who\nis able to imitate the nightingale's song quite perfectly; for we\nno sooner find that it is a man who is producing the strain than we\nhave had enough of it. We then take it to be nothing but a clever\ntrick, neither the free outpouring of Nature, nor yet a work of art.\nWe expect, in short, from the free creative power of men something\nquite other than a music of this kind, which only retains our interest\nwhen, as in the case of the nightingale's note, it breaks forth in\nunpremeditated fashion, resembling in this respect the rhythmic flood\nof human feeling, from the native springs of its life. And as a general\nrule this delight we experience in the skill of imitation can only be\nof a restricted character; it becomes a man better to derive enjoyment\nfrom that which he brings to birth from himself. In this respect the\ninvention of every insignificant technical product is of higher rank;\nand mankind may feel more proud at having invented the hammer, nail,\nand so forth, than in making themselves adepts as imitators. For this\nabstract zest in the pursuit of imitation is on the same lines as the\nfeat of the man who had taught himself to throw lentils through a\nsmall aperture without missing. He made an exhibition of this feat to\nAlexander, and Alexander merely made him a present as a reward for this\nart, empty and useless as it was, of a bushel of lentils.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Inasmuch as, moreover, the principle of imitation is purely\nformal, _objective beauty_ itself disappears, if that principle is\naccepted as the end. For the question is then no longer what is the\n_constitution_ of that which is to be imitated, but simply whether the\ncopy is _correct_ or no. The object and the content of the beautiful\ncomes to be regarded as a matter of indifference. When, in other words,\nputting the principle of mere imitation on one side, we speak, in\nconnection with animals, human beings, places, actions, and characters,\nof a distinction between beauty and ugliness, it remains none the\nless the fact that relatively to such a principle we are referring\nto a distinction which does not properly belong to an art for which\nwe have appropriated this principle of imitation to the exclusion\nof all others. In such a case, therefore, whenever we select objects\nand attempt to distinguish between their beauty and ugliness, owing\nto this absence of a standard we can apply to the infinite forms of\nNature, we have in the final resort only left us the _personal taste_,\nwhich is fixed by no rule, and admits of no discussion. And, in truth,\nif we start, in the selection of objects for representation, from\nthat which mankind _generally_ discover as beautiful and ugly, and\naccept accordingly for artistic imitation, in other words, form their\nparticular taste, there is no province in the domain of the objective\nworld which is not open to us, and which is hardly likely to fail\nto secure its admirer. At any rate, among men we may assume, that,\nthough the case of every husband and his wife may be disputed, yet at\nleast every bridegroom regards his bride as beautiful, very possibly\nbeing the only person who does so; and that an individual taste for a\nbeauty of this kind admits of no fixed rules at all may be regarded\nas a bit of luck for both parties. If, moreover, we cast a glance\nwholly beyond mere individuals and their accidental taste to that of\nnations, this again is full of diversity and opposition. How often we\nhear it repeated that a European beauty would not please a Chinaman,\nor even a Hottentot--a Chinaman having a totally distinct notion of\nbeauty from that of a black man, and the black man in his turn from\nthat of a European. Indeed, if we consider the works of art of those\nextra-European peoples, their images of gods, for instance, which have\nbeen imaginatively conceived as worthy of veneration and sublime, they\ncan only appear to us as frightful idols; their music will merely ring\nin our ears as an abominable noise, while, from the opposite point of\nview, such aliens will regard our sculptures, paintings, and musical\ncompositions as having no meaning or actually ugly.\n\n(_\u03b3_) But even assuming that we abstract from an objective principle\nof art, and retain the beautiful as established on the subjective\nand individual taste, we shall soon discover, from the point of view\nof art itself, that the imitation of natural objects, which appeared\nto be a universal principle, and indeed one secured by important\nauthorities, is not to be relied upon, at least under this general\nand wholly abstract conception of it. If we look at the particular\narts we cannot fail to observe that, albeit painting and sculpture\nportray objects which resemble those of Nature, or the type of which\nis essentially borrowed from Nature, the works of architecture on the\ncontrary--and this, too, is one of the _fine_ arts--quite as little as\nthe compositions of poetry, to the extent at least that these latter\nare not restricted to mere description, cannot justly be described as\nimitations of Nature. At any rate, if we are desirous of maintaining\nsuch a thesis with respect to the arts thus excluded, we should find\nourselves forced to make important deviations from the track, in order\nto condition our proposition in various ways, and level down our\nso-called truth at least to the plane of probability. But once accept\nprobability, and we should again be confronted with a great difficulty\nin determining precisely what is and what is not probable; and in the\nend no one could really think of or succeed, even if he did so, in\nexcluding from poetry all compositions of an entirely capricious and\ncompletely imaginative[81] character.\n\nThe end or object of art must therefore consist in something other than\nthe purely formal[82] imitation of what is given to objective sense,\nwhich invariably can merely call into being technical _legerdemain_\nand not _works_ of art[83]. It is no doubt an essential constituent\nof a work of art that it should have natural forms as a foundation,\nbecause the mode of its representation is in external form, and thereby\nalong with it in that of natural phenomena. In painting it is obviously\nan important study to learn to copy with accuracy colours in their\nmutual relations, such as light effects and reflections, and so forth,\nand, with no less accuracy, the forms and shapes of objects carried\ninto their most subtle gradations of line. It is in this respect that\nin modern times more particularly the principle of the imitation of\nNature and naturalism generally has come into vogue. The object has\nbeen to recall an art, which has deteriorated into weakness and\nnebulosity, to the strength and determinate outlines of Nature, or,\nin yet another direction, as against the purely arbitrary caprice and\nconvention of a studio, which is in truth as remote from Nature as it\nis from art, and merely indicates the path of art's declension, to\nassert the claim of the legitimate, direct, and independent, no less\nthan coherent stability of natural fact. But while admitting that from\na certain point of view such an effort is reasonable enough, yet for\nall that the naturalism which it demands, taken by itself, is neither\nthe substantive thing, not yet of primary importance, in the true\nbasis of art; and although the external fact in its natural appearance\nconstitutes an element of essential value, yet the objective fact alone\ndoes not supply the _standard_ of rightness, nor is the mere imitation\nof external phenomena, in their external shape that is, the _end_ of\nart.\n\n(_b_) And as a consequence of this we have the further question--\"What\nis the true _content_ of art, and with what aim is that content brought\nbefore us?\" On this head we are confronted by the common opinion that\nit is the task and object of art to bring before our sense, feeling,\nand power of emulation[84] _every thing_ that the spirit of man can\nperceive or conceive. Art has in short to realize for us the well-known\nsaying, \"_Nihil humani a me alienum puto._\" Its object is therefore\ndeclared to be that of arousing and giving life to slumbering emotions,\ninclinations, passions of _every_ description, of filling the heart up\nto the brim; of compelling mankind, whether cultured or the reverse, to\npass through all that the human soul carries in its most intimate and\nmysterious chambers, all that it is able to experience and reproduce,\nall that the heart is able to stir and evoke in its depths and its\ncountlessly manifold possibilities; and yet further to deliver to the\ndomain of feeling and the delight of our vision all that the mind\nmay possess of essential and exalted being in its thought and the\nIdea--that majestic hierarchy of the noble, eternal, and true; and no\nless to interpret for us misfortune and misery, wickedness and crime;\nto make the hearts of men realize through and through[85] all that\nis atrocious and dreadful, no less than every kind of pleasure and\nblessedness; and last of all to start the imagination like a rover\namong the day-dream playing-fields of the fancy, there to revel in the\nseductive mirage of visions and emotions which captivate the senses.\nAll this infinitely manifold content--so it is held--it is the function\nof art to explore, in order that by this means the experience of our\nexternal life may be repaired of its deficiencies, and yet from a\nfurther point of view that the passions we share with all men[86] may\nbe excited, not merely that the experiences of life may not have us\nunmoved, but that we ourselves may thereafter long to make ourselves\nopen channels of a universal experience. Such a stimulus is not\npresented on the plane of actual experience itself[87], but can only\ncome through the semblance of it, that is to say through the illusions\nwhich art, in its creations, substitutes for the actual world. And the\npossibility of such a deception, by means of the semblances of art,\ndepends on the fact that all reality must for man pass through the\nmedium of the vision and imaginative idea; and it is only after such\na passage that it penetrates the emotional life and the will. In such\na process it is of no consequence whether it is immediate external\nreality which claims his attention, or whether the result is effected\nby some other way, in other words by means of images, symbols, and\nideas, which contain and display the content of such actuality. Men are\nable to imagine things, which do not actually exist, as if they did\nexist. Consequently it is precisely the same thing for our emotional\nlife, whether it is the objective world or merely the show of the same,\nin virtue of which a situation, a relation, or any content of life, in\nshort, is brought home to us. Either mode is equally able to stir in\nus an echo to the essential secret which it carries, whether it be in\ngrief or joy, in agitation or convulsion, and can cause to flow through\nus the feelings and passions of anger, hate, pity, anxiety, fear, love,\nreverence and admiration, honour and fame.\n\nThe awakening of every kind of emotion in us, the drawing our soul\nthrough every content of life, the realization of all these movements\nof soul-life by means of a presence which is only external as an\nillusion--this it is which, in the opinion described, is pre-eminently\nregarded as the peculiar and transcendent power of artistic creation.\n\nWe must not, however, overlook the fact that in this view of art as a\nmeans to imprint on the soul and the mind what is good and evil alike,\nto make man more strong in the pursuit of what is noblest, no less than\nenervate his definite course[88], by transporting his emotional life\nthrough the most sensuous and selfish desires, the task as yet proposed\nto art remains throughout of an entirely formal character; without\npossessing independently an assured aim all that art can offer is the\nempty form for every possible kind of ideal and formative content.\n\n(_c_) As a matter of fact art does not possess this formal side,\nnamely, that it is able to bring before our senses and feeling and\nartistically adorn every possible kind of material, precisely as\nthe thoughts of ordinary reflection[89] elaborate every possible\nsubject-matter and modes of action, supplying the same with its\nequipment of reasons and vindications. In the presence, however,\nof such a variety of content we cannot fail to observe that these\ndiversified emotions and ideas, which it is assumed art has to\nstimulate or enforce, intersect each other, contradict and mutually\ncancel each other. Indeed, under this aspect, the more art inspires men\nto emotions thus opposed, to that extent precisely it merely enlarges\nthe cleavage in their feelings and passions, and sets them staggering\nabout in Bacchantic riot, or passes over into sophistry and scepticism\nprecisely as your ordinary free thinkers do. This variety of the\nmaterial of art itself compels us, therefore, not to remain satisfied\nwith so formal a determination. Our rational nature forces its way into\nthis motley array of discord, and demands to see the resurrection of\na higher and more universal purpose from these elements despite their\nopposition, and to be conscious of its attainment. Just in a similar\nmanner the social life of mankind and the State are no doubt credited\nwith the aim that in them _all_ human capacities and _all_ individual\npotencies should meet with expansion and expression in _all_ their\nfeatures and tendencies. But in opposition to so formal a view there\nvery quickly crops up the question in what _unity_ these manifold\nmanifestations are to be concentrated, and what _single end_ they must\nhave for their fundamental concept and ultimate end. Just as in the\ncase of the notional concept of the human State so too there arises in\nthat of human art the need, as to a part thereof, for an end _common_\nto the particular aspects, no less than in part for one which is more\nexalted and _substantive_ in its character[90].\n\nAs such a substantive end the conclusion of reflection is readily\nbrought home to us that art possesses at once the power and function to\nmitigate the savagery of mere desires.\n\n(_\u03b1_) With regard to this first conception we have merely to ascertain\nwhat characteristic peculiar to art implies this possibility of\neliminating this rawness of desire, and of fettering and instructing\nthe impulses and passions. Coarseness in general has its ground-root\nin an unmitigated self-seeking of sensuous impulses, which take their\nplunge off and are exclusively intent on the satisfaction of their\nconcupiscence. Sensual desire is, however, all the more brutal and\ndomineering, in proportion as, in its isolation and confinement, it\nappropriates the _entire man_, so that he does not retain the power to\nseparate himself in his universal capacity from this determinacy and to\nmaintain the conscious presence of such universality[91]. Even if the\nman in such a case exclaims, \"the passion is mightier than myself,\"\nthough it is true no doubt that for that man's mind the abstract ego is\nseparate from the particular passion, yet it is purely so in a formal\nway. All that such a separation amounts to is that as against the force\nof the passion the ego, in its universal form or competency, is of no\naccount at all. The savageness of passion consists therefore in the\nfusion[92] of the ego as such a universal with the confined content\nof its desire, so that a man no longer possesses volitional power\noutside this single passion. Such savageness and untamed force of the\npossibilities of passion art mitigates in the first instance to the\nextent that it brings home to the mind and imagination of man what he\ndoes actually feel and carry into effect in such a condition. And even\nif art restricts itself to this that it places before the vision of\nthe mind pictures of passion, nay, even assuming such to be flattering\npictures, yet for all that a power of amelioration is contained\ntherein. At least we may say, that by this means is brought before a\nman's intelligence what apart from such presentment he merely _is._ The\nman in this way contemplates his impulses and inclinations; and whereas\napart from this they whirl him away without giving him time to reflect,\nhe now sees them outside himself and already, for the reason that they\ncome before him rather as objects than a part of himself, he begins\nto be free from them as aliens. For this reason it may often happen\nthat an artist, under the weight of grief, mitigates and weakens the\nintensity of his own emotions in their effect upon him by the artistic\nrepresentation of them. Comfort, too, is to be found even in tears. The\nman who to start with is wholly given up to and concentrated in sorrow,\nis able thus, at any rate, to express that which is merely felt within\nin a direct way. Yet more alleviating is the utterance of such inner\nlife in words, images, musical sound, and shapes.\n\nIt was therefore a good old custom in the case of funerals and\nlayings-out to appoint wailing women, in order to give audible\nexpression to grief, or generally to create an external sympathy. For\nmanifestations of sympathy bring the content of human sorrow to the\nsufferer in an objective form; he is by their repetition driven to\nreflect upon it, and the burden is thereby made lighter. And so it has\nfrom of old been considered that to weep or to speak oneself out are\nequally means whereby freedom is secured from the oppressing burden, or\nat least the heart is appreciably lifted. Consequently the mitigation\nof the violence of passions admits of this general explanation that\nman is released from his unmediated confinement[93] in an emotion,\nbecomes aware of it as a thing external to himself, to which he is\nconsequently obliged to place himself in an ideal relation. Art, while\nstill remaining within the sphere of the senses, faces man from the\nmight of his sensitive experience by means of its representations.\nNo doubt we frequently hear that pet phrase of many that it is man's\nduty to remain in immediate union with Nature. Such union is in its\nunmediated purity nothing more or less than savagery and wildness;\nand art, precisely in the way that it dissolves this unity for human\nbeings, lifts them with gentle hands over this inclosure in Nature.\nThe way men are occupied with the objects of art's creation remains\nthroughout of a contemplative[94] character; and albeit in the first\ninstance it educates merely an attention to the actual facts portrayed,\nyet over and beyond this, and with a power no less decisive, it draws\nman's attention to their significance, it forces him to compare their\ncontent with that of others, and to receive without reserve the general\nconclusions of such a survey and all the ramifications[95] such imply.\n\n(_\u03b2_) To the characteristic above discussed adheres in natural sequence\nthe second which has been predicated of art as its essential aim,\nnamely, the _purification_ of the passions, an instruction, that is,\nand a building to _moral_ completeness. For the defining role that\nart has to bridle savage nature and educate the passions remained one\nwholly formal and general, so that the further question must arise as\nto a _specific_ kind and an essential and _culminating_ point of such\nan educative process.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The doctrine of the purification of the passions shares in the\ndefect previously noted as adhering to the mitigation of desires. It\ndoes, however, emphasize more closely the fact that the representations\nof art needed a standard, by means of which it would be possible to\nestimate their comparative worth and unworth. This standard is just\ntheir effectiveness to separate what is pure from that which is the\nreverse in the passions. Art, therefore, requires a content which\nis capable of expressing this purifying power, and in so far as the\npower to assert such effectiveness is assumed to constitute the\nsubstantive end of art, the purifying content will consist in asserting\nthat effective power before consciousness in its _universality_ and\n_essentiality._[96]\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) It is a deduction from the point of view just described that it\nis the end of art to _instruct._ Thus, on the one hand, the peculiar\ncharacter of art consists in the movement of the emotions and in\nthe satisfaction which is found in this movement, even in fear,\ncompassion, in painful agitation and shock--that is to say, in the\nsatisfying concern of the feelings and passions, and to that extent in\na complacent, delighted, or enthusiastic attitude to the objects of\nart and their presentation and effect: while, on the other hand, this\nartistic object is held to discover its higher standard exclusively\nin its power to instruct, in the _fabula docet_, and thereby in the\nusefulness, which the work of art is able to exercise on the recipient.\nIn this respect the Horatian adage\n\n     Et prodesse volunt et delectare poetae[97]\n\ncontains, concentrated into a few words, all that in after times has\nbeen drawn out as a doctrine of art through every conceivable grade of\ndilution to the last extreme of insipidity.\n\nIn respect, then, to such instruction we have to ask whether the idea\nis that the same ought to be direct or indirect in the work of art,\nexplicit or implicit.\n\nNow if the question at issue is one of general importance to art about\na universal rather than contingent purpose, such an ultimate end, on\naccount of the essential spirituality of art, can only be itself of\nspiritual import; in other words, so far from being of accidental\nimportance it must be true in virtue of its own nature and on its own\naccount. An end of this kind can only apply to instruction in so far as\na genuine and essentially explicit content is brought before the mind\nby means of the work of art. From such a point of view we are entitled\nto affirm that it is the function of art to accept so much the more\nof a content of this nature within its compass in proportion to the\nnobility of its rank, and that only in the verity of such a content\nwill it discover the standard according to which the pertinency of\nor the reverse of what is expressed is adjudged. Art is in truth the\nprimary[98] _instructress_ of peoples.\n\nBut, on the other hand, if the object of instruction is so entirely\ntreated as an _end_ that the universal nature of the content presented\ncannot fail to be asserted and rendered-bluntly and on its own account\nexplicit as abstract thesis, prosaic reflection or general maxim,\nrather than merely in an indirect way contained by implication in the\nconcrete embodiment of art, then and in that case, by means of such a\nseparation, the sensuous, plastic configuration, which is precisely\nthat which makes the artistic product a _work of art_, is merely an\notiose accessory, a husk, a semblance, which are expressly posited\nas nothing more than _shell_ and semblance. Thereby the very nature\nof a work of art is abused. For the work of art ought not to bring\nbefore the imaginative vision a content in its universality as such,\nbut rather this universality under the mode of individual concreteness\nand distinctive sensuous particularity. If the work in question\ndoes not conform to such a principle, but rather sets before us the\ngeneralization of its content with the express object of instruction\npure and simple, then the imaginative no less than the material aspect\nof it are merely an external and superfluous ornament, and the work\nof art is itself a shattered thing within that ornament[99], a ruin\nwherein form and content no longer appear as a mutually adherent\ngrowth. For, in the case supposed, the particular object of the senses\nand the ideal content apprehended by the mind[100] have become external\nto one another.\n\nFurthermore, if the object of art is assumed to consist in\nutilitarian _instruction_ of this kind, that other aspect of delight,\nentertainment, and diversion is simply abandoned on its own account\nas _unessential_; it has now to look for its substance to the utility\nof the matter of instruction, to which it is simply an accompaniment.\nBut this amounts to saying, that art does not carry its vocation and\npurpose in itself, but that its fundamental conception is in something\nelse, to which it subserves as a _means._ Art becomes, in short, merely\none of the many means, which are either of use, or may be employed\nto secure, the aim of instruction. This brings us to the boundary\nline where art can only cease to be an end on its own independent\naccount; it is deliberately deposed either to the mere plaything of\nentertainment, or a mere means of instruction.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) The line of this limit is most emphasized when the question\nis raised as to the end or object of highest rank for the sake of\nwhich the passions have to be purified or men have to be instructed.\nThis goal has frequently in modern times been identified with _moral\nimprovement_, and the end of art is assumed to consist in this that its\nfunction is to prepare our inclinations and impulses, and generally\nto conduct us to the supreme goal of moral perfection. In this view\nwe find instruction and purification combined. The notion is that art\nby the insight it gives us of genuine moral goodness, in other words,\nthrough its instruction, at the same time summons us to the process of\npurification, and in this way alone can and ought to bring about the\nimprovement of mankind as the right use they can make of it and its\nsupreme object.\n\nWith reference to the relation in which art stands to the end of\nimprovement, we may practically say the same thing as we did about the\ndidactic end. It may readily be admitted that art as its principle\nought not to make the immoral and its advance its end. But it is one\nthing deliberately to make immorality the aim of its presentation and\nanother not expressly to do so in the case of morality. It is possible\nto deduce an excellent moral from any work of art whatever; but such\ndepends, of course, on a particular interpretation and consequently on\nthe individual who draws the moral. The defence is made of the most\nimmoral representations on the ground that people ought to become\nacquainted with evil and sin in order to act morally. Conversely, it\nhas been maintained that the portrayal of Mary Magdalene, the fair\nsinner, who afterwards repented, has seduced many into sin, because\nart makes repentance look so beautiful, and you must first sin before\nyou can repent. The doctrine of moral improvement, however logically\ncarried out, is not merely satisfied that a moral should be conceivably\ndeducible from a work of art through interpretation; on the contrary,\nit would have the moral instruction clearly made to emerge as the\nsubstantive aim of the work[101]; nay, further, it would deliberately\nexclude from art's products all subjects, characters, actions, and\nevents which fail to be moral in its own sense. For art, in distinction\nfrom history and the sciences, which have their subject-matter\ndetermined for them, has a choice in the selection of its subjects.\n\nIn order that we may be in a position to estimate this view of the\nmoral end of art on the basis of principle, we ought above all to raise\nthe question as to the precise standpoint of the morality which is\nrecommended for our reception by this view. If we examine more closely\nthe standpoint of morality such, as is submitted us to-day under an\nenlightened interpretation[102], we soon discover that its conception\ndoes not immediately coincide with that which we describe in a general\nway as virtue, respectability[103], uprightness, and so forth. To be\na respectable honest man is not sufficient to make a man moral in the\nsense under discussion, for morality in this sense implies _reflection_\nand the definite consciousness of what is consonant with duty, and the\nacts which issue from such a consciousness. Now duty is itself the law\nof the will, which man, however, freely establishes out of himself,\nand thereon is taken to determine himself to this duty for duty's\nsake and its fulfilment's sake; in other words he only does good as\nacting under the conviction already secured that it is the good. This\nlaw--the duty which is selected and carried into effect for duty's\nsake to be the rule of conduct out of free conviction and the inner\nconscience--is, on its own account, the abstract universal of the will,\nwhich is the absolute antithesis to Nature, the impulses of sense,\nselfish interests, the passions and all that is commonly described\ncollectively as emotional life and heart. In this opposition the one\nside is regarded as _negating_ the other; and for the reason that both\nare present in the individual in their opposition, he is compelled,\nas determining himself from his own identity, to adopt the choice of\none to the rejection of the other. Such a decision and the act carried\nout in accordance with it merely become moral from the standpoint now\nconsidered on the one hand in virtue of the free conviction of duty,\nand on the other by reason of the victory secured not only over the\nparticular will, the natural motives, inclinations, passions and so on,\nbut also in virtue of the noble feelings and higher impulses. For the\nmodern ethic starts from the fixed opposition between the will in its\nspiritual universality and its sensuous natural particularity; it does\nnot consist in the perfected mediation of these opposed aspects, but in\ntheir mutual conflict as opposed to one another, which carries with\nit the demand, that the impulses in their antagonism to duty ought to\nyield to it.\n\nAn opposition of this nature is not merely present to mind in the\nrestricted confines of moral action; it asserts itself as a fundamental\nseveration and antithesis between that which is actual essentially,\nand on its own account, and that which is external reality and\nexistence[104]. Apprehended in entirely formal terms it is the contrast\nexposed by the universal, in so far as it is fixed in its substantive\nindependence over against the particular, as the latter is also on its\npart rigidly exterior to it. In more concrete form it appears in Nature\nas the opposition of the abstract law to the wealth of particular\nphenomena, each of which possesses its specific characteristics. It\nappears in mind as that between the sensuous and spiritual in man, as\nthe conflict of spirit with the flesh; it is that of duty for duty's\nsake; of the cold imperative with particular impulses, the warm heart,\nthe sensuous inclinations and impulses, in a word with man simply as\nindividual. Or it appears as the harsh antagonism between the inward\nfreedom and the external necessity of natural condition, and, lastly,\nas the contradiction of the dead, essentially emptied, concept, when\nconfronted with the fulness of concrete life, in other words, of theory\nand subjective thought as contrasted with objective existence and\nexperience.\n\nSuch are antithetical points of view, the discovery of which is not\nto be ascribed either to the ingenuity of reflective minds, or the\npedantry of a philosophical cult. They have in all ages, if in manifold\nguise, occupied and disquieted the human consciousness, although it\nis our more modern culture which has emphasized their opposition\nmost deliberately, and forced it in each case to the keenest edge of\ncontradiction. Intellectual culture, or rather the rapier edge of the\nmodern understanding, creates in man this contrast, which converts him\ninto some amphibious animal. He is compelled to live in two worlds\nmutually contradictory; and in this divided house consciousness,\ntoo, wanders aimlessly; tossed over from one side to the other it is\nunable to discover permanent satisfaction[105] for itself in either\none side or the other. For, on the one hand, we see mankind confined\nwithin common reality and earthly temporal condition, oppressed by\nnecessity and want, in Nature's toils, entangled in matter, in sensuous\naims and their enjoyment, dominated and whirled away by impulse and\npassion. On the other hand he lifts himself up to eternal idea's, to\na realm of thought and freedom. As Will he legislates for himself\nuniversal laws and destinations[106], he disrobes the world of the\nlife and blossom of its reality; he dissolves it in abstractions, that\nthe mind may vindicate its right and intrinsic worth by this very\ndissolution of Nature's rights and such maltreatment, a process in\nwhich he brings home to her again the necessity and violence he has\nexperienced at her hands. Such a cleavage of life and mind is, however,\naccompanied for modern culture with the demand that a contradiction\nso deep-seated should be dissolved. The mere understanding of\nabstract reflection is unable to disengage itself from the obstinacy\nof such contradictions. The solution consequently remains here for\nconsciousness a mere _ought_, and the present and reality is merely\nmoved within the continuous unrest of a to and fro, which seeks for\nthat reconciliation it is unable to find. The problem therefore arises\nwhether such a many-sided and fundamental antagonism, which is unable\nto pass beyond the mere ought and postulate of its solution, can be\nthe essential and wholly expressed truth, and[107], indeed, the final\nand supreme consummation. If the culture of the civilized world has\nfallen into such a contradiction it becomes the task of philosophy to\ndissolve the same, in other words to demonstrate that neither the one\nside or the other, in its one sided abstractness, should be held to\npossess truth, but that they contain within themselves the principle\nof their dissolution. The truth only _then_ comes before us in the\nreconciliation and mediation of both; and this mediation is no mere\npostulate, but is, in its essential nature, and in its actual presence\nthe at the same time accomplished and self-accomplishing. And, in\nfact, this view agrees directly with unwitting[108] faith and will,\nwhich always has before its conscious life this contradiction in its\nresolution, and in action accepts it as its aim and carries it into\neffect. All that philosophy achieves is to contribute the insight of\nthought into the essence of such cleavage. It demonstrates, or seeks to\ndemonstrate, how that which truth really is is simply the resolution of\nthe fracture, and, be it added, not in the sense that this antagonism\nand its alternative aspects in any way _are not_, but in the sense that\nthey are _there_[109] in reconciliation.\n\n(_d_) When discussing moral improvement as the ultimate end accepted\nfor art it was found that its principle pointed to a higher standpoint.\nIt will be necessary also to vindicate this standpoint for art.\n\nThereby the false position to which we have already directed attention\nvanishes, namely, that art has to serve as a means for moral ends and\nthe moral end of the world generally by means of its didactive and\nameliorating influence, and by doing so has its essential aim not in\nitself, but in something else. If we therefore continue still to speak\nof an end or goal of art, we must at once remove the perverse idea,\nwhich in the question, \"What is the end?\" will still make it include\nthe supplemental query, \"What is the use?\" The perverseness consists in\nthis that the work of art would then have to be regarded as related to\nsomething else, which is presented us as what is essential and ought\nto be. A work of art would in that case be merely a useful instrument\nin the realization of an end which possessed real and independent\nimportance outside the realm of art. As opposed to this we must\nmaintain that it is art's function to reveal _truth_ under the mode of\nart's sensuous or material configuration, to display the reconciled\nantithesis previously described, and by this means to prove that it\npossesses its final aim in itself, in this representation in short and\nself-revelation. For other ends such as instruction, purification,\nimprovement, procuring of wealth, struggle after fame and honour have\nnothing whatever to do with this work of art as such, still less do\nthey determine the fundamental idea[110] of it.\n\nIt is then from this point of view, into which the reflective\nconsideration of our subject-matter finally issues, that we have to\ngrasp the fundamental idea of art in terms of its ideal or inward\nnecessity, as it is also from this point of view that historically\nregarded the true appreciation and acquaintance with art took its\norigin. For that antithesis, to which we have drawn attention, did not\nmerely assert its presence within the general thought of educated men,\nbut equally in philosophy as such. It was only after philosophy was in\na position to overcome this opposition absolutely that it grasped the\nfundamental notion of its own content, and, to the extent it did so,\nthe idea of Nature and of art.\n\nFor this reason, as this point of view implies the reawakening of\nphilosophy in the widest connotation of the term, so also it is the\nre-awakening of the science of art. We may go further and affirm\nthat aesthetic as a science is in a real sense primarily indebted to\nthis re-awakening for its true origination, and art for its higher\nestimation.\n\nIV\n\nFrom this point of transition, I will briefly summarize the historical\nsubject-matter that I have in my mind's eye, partly on account of the\nhistorical importance itself, and in part because thereby the points\nof view are more clearly indicated to which importance is attached,\nand upon the basis of which we propose to continue the superstructure.\nIn its most general definition that basis consists in this, that the\nbeauty of art has become recognized as one of the means which resolve\nand bring back to unity that antithesis and contradiction between the\nmind and Nature as they repose in abstract alienation from each other\nin themselves, whether this latter is regarded as external phenomena or\nthe inward world of individual feeling and emotion[111].\n\n1. It was the philosophy of Kant which, in the first instance, not\nmerely experienced the want of such a point of union, but secured\ndefinite knowledge of it and brought it clearly before the mind.\nSpeaking generally, Kant accepted as his basis for intelligence no\nless than for the will the rationality which relates itself to itself\nor freedom, the self-consciousness that discovers and knows itself\nessentially as infinite. This knowledge of the absoluteness of reason\nin its essential substance, which has proved in more modern times the\nturning-point of philosophy, this absolute point of departure deserves\nrecognition, and does not admit of refutation, even though in other\nrespects the Kantian philosophy is inadequate. But at the same time it\nwas Kant who through falling back upon the fixed opposition between\nsubjective thought and objective things, between abstract universality\nand the sensuous individuality of the will, in a pre-eminent degree\nstrained to the extremest limit the very antithesis of morality we\nhave previously adverted to, inasmuch as over and above this he\nemphasized the practical operation of mind to the disadvantage of the\ncontemplative. In virtue of this fixity of the antithesis as cognized\nby the faculty of the understanding he had no other alternative than\nto express the unity exclusively in the form of subjective ideas for\nwhich no adequate reality could be demonstrated as correspondent; or,\non its practical side, as postulates, which it was no doubt possible\nto deduce from the practical reason, but whose essential being was\nnot within the cognition of thought, and the practical fulfilment\nof which remained throughout a mere \"ought\" deferred to infinity.\nAnd for this reason, though Kant did actually bring the reconciled\nopposition within the compass of intelligible ideas, he was neither\nable to develop its essential truth scientifically, nor to assert the\nsame as actual and exclusive reality. Unquestionably Kant did press\nbeyond this point, in the sense, that is to say, that he discovered the\nunity demanded in what he called the _intuitive_ understanding; but\nin this respect too he is held up by the opposition of subjectivity\nand objectivity, so that, while he no doubt offers us a resolution in\nan abstract sense of the antithesis between conception and reality,\nuniversality and particularity, understanding and sense-perception,\nand suggests the Idea, yet he once more conceives this resolution and\nreconciliation itself in a wholly _subjective_ sense, not as being\ntrue and real both essentially and on its own independent account. In\nthis respect the Critique of the power of the judgment, in which he\ninvestigates the aesthetic and teleological power of the judgment is\nboth instructive and remarkable. The beautiful objects of Nature and\nart, the products of Nature with their adaptations to ends, by means\nof which he approaches more closely the notion of the organic and the\nliving, he considers wholly from the point of view of the reflection\nwhich judges them subjectively. And indeed Kant himself generally\ndefines the power of judgment as \"the capacity to think the particular\nas comprised under the universal,\" and calls the power of judgment\n_reflective_ \"when it has only the particular submitted to it, and has\nto discover the universal under which it is subsumed.\" To this end it\nrequires a law, a principle, which it has to contribute to itself; and\nKant affirms _teleology_ to be this law. With regard to the conception\nof freedom which belongs to the practical reason the achievement of end\nor purpose gets no further than a mere \"ought\"; and in the teleological\njudgment, however, relatively to the living thing, Kant does manage to\nregard the living organism in such a way that the notional concept, the\nuniversal, succeeds in also including the particular, and as end does\nnot determine the particular and external, the structure of the members\nfrom outside, but as an inward principle, and under the mode, that the\nparticular conforms to the end spontaneously. Yet with such a judgment\nonce more it is assumed that the objective nature of the thing is not\nknown, but that it is only a mode of subjective reflection which is\nthereby expressed. In a similar way Kant so conceives the _aesthetic_\njudgment that it neither proceeds from the understanding, as such,\nin other words as the faculty of ideas, nor yet from the sensuous\nperception as such, and its varied manifold, but from the free play of\nthe understanding and the imagination. In this common agreement of the\nfaculties of knowledge the object finds its relation to the individual\nconsciousness, and its feeling of pleasure and contentment.\n\n(_a_) Now this general feeling of contentment is, in the first place,\nwithout any interest, that is to say, it is _devoid of relation_ to\nour _appetitive faculty._ If we have an interest of curiosity, shall\nwe say, or a sensuous interest excited for a physical want, a desire\nfor possession and use, then the objects are not important for their\nown sake, but in virtue of our need of them. In a case such as this\nwhat exists merely possesses a value in relation to such a need, and\nthe relation is of the kind, that the object is on the one side and on\nthe other is an attribute distinct from the object to which we relate\nit none the less. As an illustration if I consume the object in order\nto nourish myself therewith, this interest rests exclusively in me,\nand remains alien to the object. Now, in Kant's view, our position\nrelatively to the beautiful is not of this description. The aesthetic\njudgment suffers that which is externally presented to subsist in free\nindependence, proceeding as it does from the desire to permit the\nobject to persist on its own account and to retain its end unimpaired\nwithin itself. This is, as we have already observed, an important\nobservation.\n\n(_b_) In the second place, Kant maintains that the beautiful is\ndefinable as that which without a conception, _i.e._, without a\ncategory of the understanding, is placed before us as the object of a\n_universal_ satisfaction. To estimate the beautiful an educated mind\nis indispensable. The man in the street[112] has no judgment about\nthe beautiful; this judgment, in fact, claims universal validity.\nThe universal is no doubt in the first instance simply, _as such_,\nan abstraction, one which, however, is in its essential and on its\nindependent account, true; and consequently carries essentially the\nproperty and demand to pass also as universally valid. In this sense,\ntoo, the beautiful ought to be universally recognized, although the\nmere concepts of the understanding are compatible with no judgment\nthereupon. The good--the right which enters into particular actions,\nfor example--is subsumed under universal concepts, and the action is\naccepted as good, if it is conformable to such concepts. The beautiful,\non the contrary, ought, according to this view, to arouse a universal\nsatisfaction without any such mediation of concept. This simply means\nthat in the contemplation of the beautiful we are not conscious of the\nnotional concept or any subsumption under it, and do not permit the\nindependent passage of the separation between the particular object\nand the universal concept, which is present in all other cases of the\njudgment.\n\n(_c_) Thirdly, in this view of Kant, the beautiful ought to have the\n_teleological_ form to the extent that the teleological relation\nis apprehended in the object without the idea of an end. This is\nsubstantially a mere repetition of the view just discussed. Any natural\nproduct--take, for instance, a plant or an animal--is organized as\nadapted to an end, and is so immediately to us in this its teleological\npurpose, that we have no conception of the end on its own account as\nseparate and distinct from the actual presence of the object. It is\nin this way that the beautiful also is presented us teleologically.\nIn finite teleology end and means remain external to each other; the\nend stands in no essential inner relation to the material means of\nits execution[113]. In this case the idea of the end as recognized\nin apartness[114] is distinguishable from the object in which the\nend appears as realized. The beautiful, on the contrary, exists as\nteleological in the essential sense, without means and end appearing\nas disparate in aspects distinct from each other. For example, the\npurpose of the members of the organism is the principle of life which\nexists in the members as actual therein. In their separation[115] the\nparts cease to be members of a whole. For in the living thing the end\nand material medium of the end are so immediately united, that the\nexisting being only exists in so far as the end remains indwelling.\nThe beautiful, as thus regarded and in Kant's view, does not carry\nits teleological purpose as an external form attached to it: but the\nteleological correspondence of the inner and outer is to be regarded as\nthe immanent nature of the beautiful object.\n\n(_d_) Fourthly and finally the view of Kant posits the beautiful under\nthe mode that it is recognized without a universal concept as object\nof a _necessary_ feeling of satisfaction. Necessity is an abstract\ncategory, and indicates an ideal and essential relation between two\naspects or sides: if the one is, and because the one is, then, and for\nthat reason, the other is also. The one likewise includes the other\nwithin its determinate nature. Cause is meaningless without effect. The\npleasure which we obtain from beauty is necessary in this sense, and\nit is so wholly without a relation to conceptions, that is to say the\ncategories of the understanding. Thus, no doubt, we derive pleasure\nfrom what is symmetrical, for this is constructed in accord with an\nidea of the understanding. Kant, however, demands more as a definition\nof delight in art than the unity and uniformity of such an idea as this.\n\nNow what we find in all these theses of Kant is the non-severation\nof that which otherwise is assumed to be distinct in consciousness.\nIn the beautiful this separation is found to be abolished. The\nuniversal and particular, purpose and means, idea and object completely\ninterpenetrate each other. Thus, too, Kant sees the beauty of _art_\nas a concurrence, in which the particular itself is conformable to\nthe conception. Particulars, taken alone, are primarily, both as\nagainst each other and the universal, of a contingent nature; and\nthis very contingent element, whether we find it in sense, feeling,\nsusceptibility, or impulse, is now in the beauty of art not merely\n_subsumed_ under the categories of the understanding, and _dominated_\nby the notion of freedom in its abstract universality, but united to\nthe universal in such a way that it appears inwardly and on its own\nmerits as realized fact adequate thereto. By this means thought is\nincorporated in fine art, and the material is not externally defined\nby such thought, but continues to exist in its own freedom. In other\nwords, what is natural--the senses, emotional temperament, and so\nforth--possess in themselves measure, end, and agreement. Perception\nand feeling, too, in the same way are raised to a power of spiritual\nuniversality; and thought no less not merely renounces its hostility to\nNature, but is made blithe therein. Feeling, pleasure, and enjoyment\nare thereby justified and sanctified, and thus it is that Nature and\nfreedom, sense and idea in _one_ presence discover their just place and\ntheir satisfaction. Yet even this apparently complete reconciliation\nis ultimately still assumed to be[116] merely subjective in respect\nto our judgment no less than our productive activity, and not to be\nessentially and on its own account either the true or real.\n\nThese may, I think, be taken to be the main results of the Critique\nof Kant so far as they affect our present inquiry. It constitutes the\nstarting-point for the true conception of the beauty of art. Such a\nconception could, however, only make itself effective as the higher\ncomprehension of the true union of necessity and freedom, particular\nand universal, sensuous and rational, by its overcoming the defects\nstill latent in the previous standpoint.\n\nIt must in fact be admitted that the artistic sense of a profound\nand, at the same time, philosophical spirit anticipated philosophy in\nthe stricter sense by its demand for and expression of the principle\nof totality and reconciliation in its opposition to that abstract\nfiniteness of thought, that duty for duty's sake, that understanding\nfaculty devoid of any substantive content, which one and all apprehend\nnature and reality, sense and feeling, merely as a _limits_ something\ndownright alien or hostile. It is Schiller who must be credited with\nthe important service of having broken through the Kantian subjectivity\nand abstractness of thought, and of having ventured the attempt to\npass beyond the same by comprehending in thought the principles of\nunity and reconciliation as the truth, and giving artistic realization\nto that truth. For Schiller, in his aesthetic investigations, did not\nmerely adhere to art and its interest unaffected by their relation\nto philosophy proper, but he compared his own interest in the beauty\nof art in their due relation to philosophical principles; and it is\nonly from the starting-point of these latter and by their aid that\nhe penetrated the profounder nature and notional concept of Beauty.\nThus we are conscious that it was a feature of a certain period of\nhis productive activity that he was actively engaged with reflective\nthought, more perhaps than was wholly favourable to the simple and\ndirect beauty of his work as an art product. The deliberate character\nof abstract reflections, and even the interest of the philosophical\nnotion, arrest the attention in several of his poems. He has, in fact,\nbeen made the subject of stricture on this account; and especially\nhis work has been blamed and depreciated in its contrast with the\nequable serenity and straightforward simplicity of Goethe's ideas\nand more objective naturalism. But in this respect Schiller as poet\ndid but pay the debt of his century. A real ideal evolution[117] was\nresponsible, the recognition of which only redounds to the honour\nof this sublime soul and profound genius, as it has been no less of\nsignal profit to science and knowledge. This stimulating movement of\nscience during the same epoch also diverted Goethe from the sphere,\nmost distinctively his own, as poet. But just as Schiller was absorbed\nin the study of the ideal depths of the _mind_, so the characteristic\npredilection of Goethe inclined to the _physical_ aspect of art, to\nexternal nature, such as animal and vegetable organization, crystals,\ncloud-formation and colours. To such scientific inquiry Goethe applied\nhis extraordinary powers of intuition, which in these provinces have\ndriven off the field the theories of the mere understanding and their\nerrors, just as Schiller, on the other side, succeeded in demonstrating\nthe Idea of the free totality of Beauty as against the theory of the\nanalytical understanding relative to volition and thinking. An entire\nseries of Schiller's productions is devoted to this insight into\nthe nature of art. Above all in importance come the \"Letters upon\naesthetic education.\" In these letters the main point of departure is\nthat every individual man contains within himself the natural capacity\nof an ideal humanity. This genuine human being is represented by the\nState, which, in his view, is the objective, universal, and, in short,\nnormal form, in which the separate individuals or subjects of such\nhuman consciousness aim at making all coalesce and concentrate in\nunity. There were then, in his view, two imaginable ways in which man\nin the temporal process could thus coalesce with the human being in\nthe notional Idea[118]. On the one hand this could be effected in the\nsuppression of individuality by the State under its generic idea of\nmorality, law, and intelligence[119]: while, on the other, a similar\nresult could be effected by the individual himself raising himself to\nthe level of such a generic conception, in other words, by the man of\nthe particular temporal condition ennobling himself to the level of\nthe essential man of the Idea. Now, in this view, reason demands unity\nas such, the generic attribution; Nature, however, asks for variety\nand individuality, and both these legislatures make a simultaneous\nclaim upon man. Confronted with the conflict of these antagonistic\nrivals, aesthetic education simply consists in giving actual effect\nto the demand for their mediation and reconcilement. The aim of\nsuch an education is, according to Schiller, to give vital form to\ninclination, the senses, impulse and emotional life in such a way that\nthey become essentially permeated with mind; and, from the reverse\npoint of view, that reason, freedom, and spirituality come forth from\nthe grave-clothes of their abstractedness, are mated in union with the\nnatural element thus essentially rationalized, and thus receive the\nsubstance of flesh and blood. Beauty is therefore affirmed to be the\nconformative unification[120] of the rational and the sensuous, and\nthis union is pronounced the truly real.\n\nThis view of Schiller will in its general terms be all the more readily\nrecognized in \"Anmuth und W\u00fcrde[121],\" as also in his poems for the\nreason that the praise of women is in such works more particularly the\ntheme. It was pre-eminently in _their_ character that he recognized and\nemphasized the spontaneously present conjunction of the spiritual and\nnatural.\n\nThis unity of the universal and particular, of freedom and necessity,\nof spirituality and the natural element, which Schiller conceived\nwith scientific thoroughness as the principle and essence of art, and\nendeavoured indefatigably to call into actual life by means of art\nand aesthetic education, has received yet further recognition in _the\nIdea itself_, cognized as the supreme principle of knowledge and of\nexistence, the Idea in this sense being apprehended as sole truth and\nreality. By means of this acknowledgment science, in the philosophy\nof Schelling, attained its absolute standpoint; and although art had\nalready begun to assert its peculiar rights and dignity in their\nrelation to the highest interests of man, it was only now that the\n_notion_ itself and the scientific position of art were discovered.\nIt was then that art was--even if, from a certain point of view,\nwith a measure of perversity, which this is not the proper place to\ndiscuss--accepted with due reference to its exalted and true vocation.\nEven before this time and independently Winckelmann had been inspired\nby his observation of the ideals of the ancients in a way which\nprompted the creation of a new sense of artistic contemplation, the\ndisengagement of it from the association of vulgar aims and mere\nimitation of Nature, and exercised a mighty influence in the discovery\nof the idea of art in works of art and in its history. Winckelmann\nought, in fact, to be regarded as belonging to the type of men who have\nbeen able in the field of art to supply the mind with a new organ and\nwholly new methods of observation His views have, however, exercised\nless influence on the theory and the scientific knowledge of art.\n\nTo summarize these historical antecedents further yet more briefly,\nin association with the renaissance of our modern philosophy, A. W.\nand Friedrich von Schlegel, impelled by their zest for novelty and all\nthat was either distinctive or arresting, assimilated just so much\nof the philosophical ideas as was compatible with minds essentially\ncritical, though by no means really philosophical in any strict sense\nof the term. Neither of these writers in fact can claim the reputation\nof being speculative thinkers. They did, however, in virtue of their\ncritical sagacity, at least approach the standpoint of the Idea;\nand with the aid of remarkable boldness of speech and audacity of\ninnovation--to which, however, but very few ingredients of genuine\nphilosophy contributed--directed a brilliant polemic against views\nhitherto received, and by this means unquestionably introduced a novel\nstandard of criticism and new ways of looking at things which were\nof superior value to those they attacked. For the reason, however,\nthat their criticism was not accompanied with a knowledge of the\nnature of such a standard based on philosophical principles, a lack\nof definition and continuity was inseparable from this standard; and\nthey at one time attempted too much and again at another too little.\nDespite, therefore, of the fact that it may be reckoned to their\ncredit that they have once more drawn attention to and emphasized with\ngenuine enthusiasm much hitherto regarded as obsolete and too little\nappreciated by their times, the works of the older Italian masters, for\nexample, and certain Flemish paintings, as also the \"Niebelungen Lied\"\namong other things; despite the fact that they even endeavoured with\nzeal to acquire knowledge of matter barely known at all, such as the\npoetry and mythology of India, nevertheless they not only attached too\nhigh an importance to the works of such a period, but also themselves\ncommitted the mistake of admiring works of very average merit, such\nas the comedies of Holberg, or of attaching an absolute value to what\npossessed a purely relative worth, or even of boldly proving themselves\nthe enthusiasts of a perverse tendency and a subordinate standpoint as\nthough one of first-rate importance.\n\nFrom this tendency, and particularly from the opinions[122] and\ndoctrines of Friedrich von Schlegel, issued in all its manifold forms\nthe so-called _Irony._ The idea had its profounder root, as to one of\nits aspects, in the philosophy of Fichte, in so far as the principles\nof that philosophy were applied to art. Friedrich von Schlegel, as also\nSchelling, made the standpoint of Fichte their point of departure.\nSchelling passed wholly beyond it; Fried, von Schlegel elaborated it\nin his own peculiar fashion, and then flung himself free of it. With\nreference to the more intimate connection of the doctrines of Fichte\nwith one tendency of this irony, it is only necessary to emphasize\nthe following point in our present context, namely this, that Fichte\nposits the Ego as the absolute principle of all knowledge, reason, and\ncognition, and in fact posits it as the Ego which persists throughout\nin its abstraction of pure form. For this reason this Ego is, in the\nsecond place, wholly and essentially simple, and, on the one hand, it\nis the negation of every particularity, attribute--in short, every\ncontent--for every positive subject-matter[123] is overwhelmed in this\nabstract freedom and unity. On the other hand, every content, which is\nto pass muster for the Ego, is posited and recognized as exclusively so\nin virtue of the activity of the Ego. Whatever is, is only in virtue of\nthe Ego; whatever is through me (that is, my Ego) I am in turn able to\nannihilate.\n\nNow if we abide in these entirely vacant forms, which originate in the\nabsoluteness of the abstract Ego, nothing can then be regarded as of\nvalue in itself, that is, essentially and on its own account[124]. It\nis exclusively produced by the subjectivity of the Ego. But this being\nso, it follows that the Ego remains lord and master over everything.\nIn no sphere of morals or law, of all that is human or divine, profane\nor sacred, is there anything at all which would not in the first\ninstance have to be posited by the Ego, and which consequently could\nnot equally be nullified by the same agency. This is nothing less than\nmaking all that exists on its own actual and independent warranty a\nmere semblance, not true and a part of reality on account of itself\nand by its own instrumentality, but a mere _show_ in virtue of the\nEgo, within whose power and caprice it remains at the free disposition\nof such. To suffer its presence and to destroy it stands purely in\nthe favour of the Ego, which has attained the absolute standpoint as\nessentially the Ego, that and nothing more than that.\n\nThirdly, the Ego is a _living_, active individual, and its life\nconsists in bringing home its individuality to itself no less than\nto others, in giving expression to itself and revealing itself among\nphenomena[125]. For every man during his life endeavours to realize\nhimself and does realize himself. In relation to the beautiful and\nart this means that he lives the life of an artist, and shapes his\nlife _artistically._ But, according to the principle now discussed,\nI live as artist when all my action and expression whatever, in so\nfar as it has to do with a content, is for myself on the plane of\nmere _semblance_, and assumes a formal content which is wholly at my\ndisposal. So I am not truly _serious_ either about this content or,\nspeaking generally, about its expression and realization. Genuine\nseriousness only issues from a substantive interest, a subject-matter\nwhich itself possesses a rich content, such as truth, morality, and\nso on--in other words, from a content which as it stands I regard as\nessential, so that I only become essential on my own account, in so\nfar as I have absorbed myself in such a content, and have come to\nconform myself to it in the entire range of my thought and action.\nAt the standpoint at which the artist is the Ego, which both posits\nand resolves everything through its own essential fiat[126], for\nwhich no content of consciousness appears as absolute and essentially\nindependent, but only as itself a semblance created and destroyable,\nsuch seriousness can find no place, nothing here receiving a right to\nbe save the formalism of the Ego.\n\nNo doubt for others my self-revealment, in which I appear to them,\nmay be taken seriously, inasmuch as they interpret me as though in\nreality I was in earnest about the business; but therein they are\ndeluded, poor, _born\u00e9_ creatures, without the faculty or the power\nto comprehend and attain to the height of my argument. And by this\nit is brought home to me that _everyone_ is not so free (_e.g.,_\nthat is _formally_ free) as to see in all which is usually of value,\ndignity and sanctity to mankind, merely a product of each man's own\npossibilities of inclination, which is operative in permitting him to\ndetermine and make rich the course of his life, or the reverse. It is\nthus that this virtuosity of your ironical artist's life comes to be\ncredited as some _god-like geniality_, for which every conceivable\nthing is a purely spectral creature, to which the free creator, knowing\nhimself to be absolutely unattached, does not yoke himself, for he can\never annihilate the same no less than create it. Whoever has reached\nsuch a standpoint of god-like geniality consequently looks down in his\nsuperior fashion on all other mortals. They are ruled out as narrow\nand dull, in so far, that is, as law, morals, and the rest retain for\nthem a validity that is assured, obligatory, and essential. And the\nindividual who thus lives this artist life, which he does no doubt\nassociate with others, whether friends or mistresses or I know not\nwhat, yet as man of genius sets no real stock on such relations as they\nstand to his individual personality and particular actions. All these\nare as nothing in their contrast to the universal which is his in its\nown and independent warranty, namely that genius which faces all such\nwith irony. This is the universal import of the genial god-like irony\nas this concentration of the Ego in itself, for which all bands are\nbroken, and which can only live in the bliss of self-enjoyment. This\nirony was the discovery of Herr Fried, von Schlegel, and many have\nchattered about it after him, or it may be are giving us a fresh sample\nof such chatter.\n\nThe proximate form of this negativity which has been called irony is,\nthen, on the one hand, the illusory nature[127] of all that is matter\nof fact, or moral, or of substantive content, the nothingness of all\nthat is objective and of essential and independent worth. So long as\nthe Ego adheres to such, a standpoint as this, everything appears to be\nnull and void, the personal subjectivity alone excepted, which thereby\nbecomes hollow and empty, and nothing but conceit itself. Conversely,\nhowever, from the opposite point of view, the Ego may also fail to\nfind satisfaction in this self-delight; it may prove an insufficient\nsupply to its craving, so that it now feels a thirst for what is secure\nand substantive, definite and essential interests. From a situation\nsuch as this there arises unhappiness and the contradiction, that\nwhereas, on the one hand, the individual seeks to penetrate into truth\nand longs after objectivity, yet on the other he is unable to divest\nhimself of this isolation and self-seclusion, is unable to overcome\nthis unsatisfied and abstract soul-inwardness, and consequently is\nseized with a fit of sentimental yearning, which we have also marked\nas one of the emanations of the philosophy of Fichte. The discontent\nof this quiescence and impotence, which is unable either to act or set\nits hands to anything, lest it have to surrender the harmony within,\nand which remains unreal and empty, even though it may be essentially\nunflecked, despite all its craving for reality and the absolute--is\nthe source of morbid saintliness[128] and yearning. A soul that is\nfair or saintly in a true sense acts and is a reality. But all that\nyearning and heart burning is merely the feeling of the nothingness of\nthe empty and vain personage, who has it, and yet has not the power\nto cast himself adrift of this empty void, and fill himself with that\nwhich is solid and substantive. In so far, however, as the irony is\nmade an art type it did not restrict itself in giving artistic shape\nto the life and particular individuality of the man who appropriated\nthe irony. Over and beyond the artistic content of his own actions,\netc., the artist had also to produce objective works of art as the\ncreations of his imagination. The principle of such productions,\nwhich mainly are confined to the domain of poetry, is once more the\ndisplay of the god-like as Irony. The ironical here, however, as genial\nindividuality, consists in the self-annihilation of what is noble,\ngreat, and excellent. Consequently the independent figures of art\nwill also have to illustrate the principle of absolute subjectivity,\nand to do so by exhibiting all that is of human worth and dignity as\na mere naught in this process of self-annihilation. This implies not\nmerely that we are not to take seriously justice, morality and truth,\nbut that there is really nothing in what is highest and best. In short\nit amounts to this, that irony contradicts and annihilates itself as\nmanifested in individuals, characters and actions, and consequently\nis an irony which overreaches itself[129]. This mode or art-type,\nabstractly considered, approaches closely to the principle of comedy.\nAt the same time we ought fundamentally to distinguish the comic from\nthe ironical as thus associated. For the comic must be limited to the\nmaking null what is essentially itself of no worth, that is to say, a\nfalse and contradictory appearance, a whim, for instance, a piece of\negotism, a particular caprice, as set over against a mighty passion; or\neven some principle, _assumed_ to be efficacious, or rigid maxims may\nbe thus exposed in their nullity. But it is wholly a different matter,\nwhen what is in fact moral and true, generally something with really\nsubstantive core, is asserted in an individual and through the same\nas essentially of no account. Such an individual is then nugatory and\ndespicable in his character, and the weakness and absence of character\nare thus introduced into the representation. In this distinction,\ntherefore, between the ironical and the comic the point of real\nimportance is what is the nature of the _content_ which is destroyed.\nThey are in the case of irony evil, good for nothing subjects, persons\nunable to hold staunchly to their fixed and important purposes, only\ntoo ready to give it up and to permit its destruction within them.\nYour \"Irony\" loves this irony of the characterless. For true character\nimplies on the one hand an essential substance in its purpose, and on\nthe other adherence to such a purpose, so that individuality would be\nrifled of its veritable existence, if it was compelled to let it drop\nand give it up. This doggedness and stability constitutes the keynote\nof character. Cato can only live as Roman and republican. Now if\nirony is made the keynote of the representation, we have the extreme\nantithesis to art accepted as the true principle of the work of art.\nFor what we have here is in part insipid figures, in part figures\nthat have neither content nor defined position[130]. Seeing that what\nis of substance in them is proved to be an illusion. And, last of\nall, we have into the bargain those yearning floods and unresolved\ncontradictions of the soul. Compositions of this kind are not likely\nto arouse real interest. And for this very reason it is precisely from\nthe advocates of this Irony that we have the continuous round of lament\nover the public's want of critical sense, artistic insight and genius,\nwhich of course cannot appreciate the lofty ways of such an Irony; in\nother words what the public does not like is this very mediocrity,\nwhich is the half of it mere trifling[131], and the other half without\ndistinctive character. And it is right that these spectre-like,\nmoon-shine gazing natures are no favourites; it is a comfort to think\nthat this insincerity and hypocrisy is not in fashion, and that what\nmen, on the contrary, demand imperatively are full and veritable\ninterests, and no less so characters which remain true to the weighty\nsubstance at their core. We may add as a matter of historical interest\nthat it was Solger and Ludwig Tieck who above all accepted irony as the\nhighest principle of art.\n\nThis is not the place to speak of Solger at the length he really\nmerits; and I must content myself with a few general remarks. Solger\nwas not, as the others were, satisfied with a superficial philosophical\nculture. A truly speculative impulse of his innermost nature made him\nprobe the very depths of the philosophical idea. And in doing so he\ncame upon the dialectical phase of the Idea, that transition point\nwhich I call the infinite absolute negativity, the activity of the\nidea in its negation of itself as infinite and universal, in order to\npass into finiteness and particularity, and with no less truth once\nmore in order to annul this negation, and in so doing to establish\nagain the universal and infinite within the finite and particular.\nSolger did not get beyond this negativity; and unquestionably it is a\n_phase_[132] in the speculative idea; but nevertheless, as exclusively\nconceived in this dialectic unrest and dissolution of the infinite\nno less than the finite, it is _only_ such a phase contributory, and\nnot, as Solger imagined, the _Entire Idea._ Unfortunately Solger's\nlife was too early broken off to permit him to grasp the concrete\nevolvement of the philosophical Idea in all it implies. And so he never\ngot beyond this aspect of negativity, which possesses an affinity\nwith the dissolution by irony of all that is determinate no less than\nessentially substantive, a negative movement which he identified with\nthe principle of artistic activity. Yet in the actual conditions of\nhis life, and with due reference to the stability, seriousness, and\nsterling qualities of his character, he was neither himself an ironic\nartist in the sense we have previously described, nor was his really\nprofound instinct for true works of art, a sense which a long course\nof study of art had developed greatly, either of such an ironical\ncharacter. So much we will venture in the vindication of Solger, whose\nlife, philosophy, and actual contributions to art merit being wholly\nkept separate from the apostles of irony previously named.\n\nWith regard to Ludwig Tieck, his culture, too, dates from that period\nin which Jena was the literary centre. Tieck and others who belonged\nto these superior people are on excellent terms with such modes of\nexpression, without being able to tell us much what they mean. Thus\nTieck always insists on the importance of Irony. But when it comes\nto delivering judgment on great works of art, though his recognition\nand description of their greatness is no doubt beyond reproach, yet\nif one imagines that in any particular example--let us say \"Romeo and\nJuliet\"--we have the opportunity put for an explanation of that in\nwhich here the irony consists, we are wide of the mark. We hear nothing\nmore whatever about Irony.\n\n\n\nV[133]\n\n\n1. After the above introductory observations we may now pass on to the\nconsideration of our subject itself. We are, however, still within the\nintroduction; and being so I do not propose to attempt anything more\nthan indicate by way of sketch the main outlines of the general course\nof the scientific inquiry which is to follow it. Inasmuch, however,\nas we have referred to art as issuing from the absolute Idea itself,\nand, indeed, have assigned as its end the sensuous presentation of the\nAbsolute itself, it will be incumbent on us to conduct this survey of\nthe entire field in such a way, as at least to disclose generally, how\nthe particular parts originate in the notional concept of the beauty of\nart. We must therefore attempt to awaken some idea of this notion in\nits broadest significance.\n\nIt has already been stated that the content of art is the Idea, and the\nform of its display the configuration of the sensuous or plastic image.\nIt is further the function of art to mediate these two aspects under\nthe reconciled mode of free totality. The _first_ determinant implied\nby this is the demand that the content, which has to secure artistic\nrepresentation, shall disclose an essential capacity for such display.\nIf this is not so all that we possess is a defective combination.\nA content that, independently, is ill adapted to plastic form and\nexternal presentment is compelled to accept this form, or a matter that\nis of itself prosaic in its character is driven to make the best it can\nof a mode of presentation which is antagonistic to its nature.\n\nThe _second_ requirement, which is deducible from the first, is the\ndemand that the content of art should be nothing essentially abstracts\nThis does not mean, however, that it should be merely concrete in\nthe sense that the sensuous object is such in its contrast to all\nthat is spiritual and the content of thought, regarding these as the\nessentially simple and abstract. Everything that possesses truth for\nSpirit; no less than, as part of Nature, is essentially concrete,\nand, despite its universality, possesses both ideality[134] and\nparticularity essentially within it. When we state, for example, of\nGod that he is simple One, the Supreme Being as such, we have thereby\nmerely given utterance to a lifeless abstraction of the irrational\nunderstanding. Such a God, as He is thus not conceived in His concrete\ntruth, can supply no content for art, least of all plastic art.\nConsequently neither the Jews nor the Turks have been able to represent\ntheir God, who is not even an abstraction of the understanding in\nthe above sense, under the positive mode in which Christians have\nrepresented Him. For in Christianity God is conceived in His Truth, and\nas such essentially concrete, as personality[135], as the subjective\nfocus of conscious life, or, more accurately defined, as Spirit. And\nwhat He is as Spirit is made explicit to the religious apprehension\nas a trinity of persons, which at the same time are, in their\nindependence, regarded as One. Here is essentiality, universality, and\nparticularity, no less than their reconciled unity, and it is only\na unity such as this which gives us the concrete. And inasmuch as a\ncontent, in order to unveil truth at all, must be of this concrete\ncharacter, art makes the demand for a like concreteness, and, for this\nreason, that a purely abstract universal does not in itself possess the\nproperty to proceed to particularity and external manifestation, and to\nunity with itself therein.\n\nIf, then, a sensuous form and configuration is to be correspondent\nwith a true and therefore concrete content, such must in the third\nplace likewise be as clearly individual, entirely concrete and a\nself-enclosed unity. This character of concreteness, predicable of\nboth aspects of art, the content no less than the representation, is\njust the point in which both coalesce and fall in with one another.\nThe natural form of the human body is, for example, such a sensuous\nconcrete capable of displaying Spirit in its essential concreteness and\nof adapting itself wholly to such a presentment. For which reason we\nmust quit ourselves of the idea that it is a matter of mere accident\nthat an actual phenomenon of the objective world is accepted as the\nmode in which to embody such a form coalescent with truth. Art does\nnot lay hold of this form either because it is simply there or because\nthere is no other. The concrete content itself implies the presence\nof external and actual, we may even add the sensuous appearance. But\nto make this possible this sensuous concrete, which is essentially\nimpressed with a content that is open to mind, is also essentially\naddressed to the inward conscious life, and the external mode of its\nconfiguration, whereby it is visible to perception and the world of\nidea, has for its aim the being there exclusively for the soul and mind\nof man. This is the sole reason that content and artistic conformation\nare dovetailed one into the other. The _purely_ sensuous concrete, that\nis external Nature as such, does not exclusively originate in such an\nend. The variously coloured plumage of birds is resplendent unseen; the\nnotes of this song are unheard. The Cereus[136], which only blossoms\nfor a night, withers away without any admiration from another in the\nwilderness of the southern forests; and these forests, receptacles\nthemselves of the most beautiful and luxuriant vegetation, with the\nrichest and most aromatic perfumes, perish and collapse in like manner\nunenjoyed. The work of art has no such na\u00efve and independent being. It\nis essentially a question, an address to the responding soul of man, an\nappeal to affections and intelligence.\n\nAlthough the endowment by art of sensuous shape is not in this\nrespect accidental, yet on the other hand it is not the highest mode\nof grasping the spiritually concrete. Thought is a higher mode of\npresentment than that of the sensuous concrete. Though abstract in a\nrelative sense; yet it must not be one-sided, but concrete thinking, in\norder to be true and rational. The extent to which a definite content\npossesses for its appropriate form sensuous artistic representation,\nor essentially requires, in virtue of its nature, a higher and more\nspiritual embodiment is a question of difference exemplified at once\nif we compare the Greek gods with God as conceived under Christian\nideas. The Greek god is not abstract, but individual, and is in close\nassociation with the natural human form. The Christian God is also, no\ndoubt, a concrete personality, but under the mode of pure spiritual\nactuality, who is cognized as Spirit and in Spirit[137]. His medium of\ndeterminate existence is therefore essentially knowledge of the mind\nand not external natural shape, by means of which His representation\ncan only be imperfect, and not in the entire depths of His idea or\nnotional concept.\n\nInasmuch, however, as it is the function of art to represent the Idea\nto immediate vision in sensuous shape and not in the form of thought\nand pure spirituality in the strict sense, and inasmuch as the value\nand intrinsic worth of this presentment consists in the correspondence\nand unity of the two aspects, that is the Idea and its sensuous shape,\nthe supreme level and excellence of art and the reality, which is truly\nconsonant with its notion, will depend upon the degree of intimacy and\nunion with which idea and configuration appear together in elaborated\nfusion. The higher truth consequently is spiritual content which has\nreceived the shape adequate to the conception of its essence; and this\nit is which supplies the principle of division for the philosophy of\nart. For before the mind can attain to the true notion of its absolute\nessence, it is constrained to traverse a series of stages rooted in\nthis very notional concept; and to this course of stages which it\nunfolds to itself, corresponds a coalescent series, immediately related\ntherewith, of the plastic types of art, under the configuration whereof\nmind as art-spirit presents to itself the consciousness of itself[138].\n\nThis evolution within the art-spirit has further itself two sides\nin virtue of its intrinsic nature. _First_, that is to say, the\ndevelopment is itself a spiritual and universal one; in other words\nthere are the definite and comprehensive views of the world[139] in\ntheir series of gradations which give artistic embodiment to the\nspecific but widely embracing consciousness of Nature, man, and God.\n_Secondly_, this ideal or _universal_ art-development has to provide\nfor itself immediate existence and sensuous configuration, and the\ndefinite modes of this art-actualization in the sensuous medium are\nthemselves a totality of necessary distinctions in the realm of\nart--that is to say, they are the _particular types_ of art. No doubt\nthe types of artistic configuration on the one hand are, in respect to\ntheir spirituality, of a general character, and not restricted to any\none material, and the sensuous existence is similarly itself of varied\nmultiplicity of medium. Inasmuch, however, as this material potentially\npossesses, precisely as the mind or spirit does, the Idea for its\ninward soul or significance, it follows that a definite sensuous\ninvolves with itself a closer relation and secret bond of association\nwith the spiritual-distinctions and specific types of artistic\nembodiment[140].\n\nRelatively to these points of view our philosophy will divided into\nthree fundamental parts.\n\n_First_, we have a _general_ part. It has for its content object the\nuniversal Idea of fine art, conceived here as the Ideal, together with\nthe more elaborated relation under which it is placed respectively to\nNature and human artistic production.\n\n_Secondly_, we have evolved from the notional concept of the beauty of\nart a _particular_ part, in so far as the essential distinctions, which\nthis idea contains in itself, are unfolded in a graduated series of\n_particular_ modes of configuration[141].\n\n_Thirdly_, there results a _final_ part which has to consider the\nparticularized content of fine art itself. It consists in the advance\nof art to the sensuous realization of its shapes and its consummation\nin a system of the several arts and their genera and species.\n\n2. In respect to the first and second of these divisions it is\nimportant to recollect, in order to make all that follows intelligible,\nthat the Idea, viewed as the beautiful in art, is not the Idea in the\nstrict sense, that is as a metaphysical Logic apprehends it as the\nAbsolute. It is rather the Idea as carried into concrete form in the\ndirection of express realization, and as having entered into immediate\nand adequate unity with such reality. For the _Idea as such_, although\nit is both potentially and explicitly true, is only truth in its\nuniversality and not as yet presented in objective embodiment. The Idea\nas fine art, however, is the Idea with the more specific property of\nbeing essentially individual reality, in other words, an individual\nconfiguration of reality whose express function it is to make manifest\nthe Idea--in its appearance. This amounts to the demand that the Idea\nand its formative configuration as concrete realization must be brought\ntogether under a mode of complete adequacy. The Idea as so conceived,\na reality, that is to-say, moulded in conformity with the notional\nconcept of the Idea, is the Ideal. The problem of such consonancy\nmight, in the first instance, be understood in the wholly formal sense\nthat the Idea might be any idea so long as the actual shape, it matters\nnot what the shape might be, represented this particular Idea and no\nother. In that case, however, the required truth of the Ideal is a\nfact simply interchangeable with mere correctness, a correctness which\nconsists in the expression of any significance in a manner adapted to\nit, provided that its meaning is thereby directly discoverable in the\nform. The Ideal, however, is not to be thus understood. According to\nthe standard or test of its own nature any content whatever can receive\nadequate presentation, but it does not necessarily thereby possess a\nclaim to be the fine art of the Ideal. Nay, more, in comparison with\nideal beauty the presentation will even appear defective. And in this\nconnection we may once for all observe--though actual proof is reserved\nto a later stage--that the defects of a work of art are not invariably\nto be attributed to defects of executive skill. _Defectiveness of form_\narises also from _defectiveness of content_. The Chinese, Hindoos, and\nEgyptians, for example, in their artistic images, sculptured deities\nand idols, never passed beyond a formless condition, or a definition\nof shape that was vicious and false, and were unable to master true\nbeauty. And this was so for the reason that their mythological\nconceptions, the content and thought of their works of art, were still\nessentially indeterminate, or only determinate in a false sense, did\nnot, in fact, attain to a content which was absolute in itself. Viewed\nin this sense the excellence of works of art is so much the greater\nin the degree that their content and thought is ideal and profound.\nAnd in affirming this we have not merely in our mind the degree of\nexecutive mastery displayed in the grasp and imitation of natural\nform as we find it in the objective world. For in certain stages of\nthe artistic consciousness and its reproductive effects the desertion\nand distortion of the conformations of Nature is not so much due to\nunintentional technical inexperience or lack of ability, as it is to\ndeliberate alteration, which originates in the mental content itself,\nand is demanded by the same. From this point of view there is therefore\nimperfect art, which, both in technical and other respects, may be\nquite consummate in its _own specific sphere_, yet if tested with the\ntrue notion of art and the Ideal can only appear as defective. Only\nin the highest art are the Idea and the artistic presentation truly\nconsonant with one another in the sense that the objective embodiment\nof the Idea is in itself essentially and as realized the true\nconfiguration, because the content of the Idea thus expressed is itself\nin truth the genuine content. It is appertinent to this, as already\nnoted, that the Idea must be defined in and through itself as concrete\ntotality, thereby essentially possessing in itself the principle and\nstandard of its particularization and definition as thus manifested\nobjectively. For example, the Christian imagination will only be able\nto represent God in human form and with man's means of spiritual\nexpression, because it is herein that God Himself is fully known in\nHimself as mind or Spirit. Determinacy is, as it were, the bridge to\nphenomenal presence. Where this determinacy is not totality derived\nfrom the Idea itself, where the Idea is not conceived as that which\nis self-definitive and self-differentiating, it remains abstract and\npossesses its definition, and with it the principle for the particular\nmode of embodiment adapted to itself not within itself but as something\noutside it. And owing to this the Idea is also still abstract and the\nconfiguration it assumes is not as yet posited by itself. The Idea,\nhowever, which is essentially concrete, carries the principle of its\nmanifestation in itself, and is thereby the means of its own free\nmanifestation. Thus it is only the truly concrete Idea that is able to\nevoke the true embodiment, and this appropriate coalescence of both is\nthe Ideal.\n\n3. But inasmuch as in this way the Idea is concrete unity, this unity\ncan only enter the artistic consciousness by the expansion and further\nmediation of the particular aspects of the Idea; and it is through this\nevolution that the beauty of art receives a _totality of particular\nstages and forms._ Therefore, after we have considered fine art in its\nessence and on its own account, we must see how the beautiful in its\nentirety breaks up into its particular determinations. This gives, as\nour second part, the _doctrine of the types of art._ The origin of\nthese types is to be found in the varied ways under which the Idea is\nconceived as the content of art; it is by this means that a distinction\nin the mode of form under which it manifests itself is conditioned.\nThese types are therefore simply the different modes of relation which\nobtain between the Idea and its configuration, relations which emanate\nfrom the Idea itself, and thereby present us with the general basis of\ndivision for this sphere. For the principle of division must always be\nfound in the notional concept, the particularization and division of\nwhich it is.\n\nWe have here to consider _three_ relations of the Idea to its external\nprocess of configuration.\n\n(_a_) _First_, the origin of artistic creation proceeds from the\nIdea when, being itself still involved in defective definition and\nobscurity, or in vicious and untrue determinacy, it becomes embodied\nin the shapes of art. As indeterminate it does not as yet possess\nin itself that individuality which the Ideal demands. Its abstract\ncharacter and one-sidedness leaves its objective presentment still\ndefective and contingent. Consequently this first type of art is rather\na mere search after plastic configuration than a power of genuine\nrepresentation. The Idea has not as yet found the formative principle\nwithin itself, and therefore still continues to be the mere effort and\nstrain to find it. We may in general terms describe this form as the\n_symbolic_ type of art. The abstract Idea possesses in it its external\nshape outside itself in the purely material substance of Nature, from\nwhich the shaping process proceeds, and to which in its expression\nit is entirely yoked. Natural objects are thus in the first instance\nleft just as they are, while, at the same time the substantive Idea\nis imposed upon them as their significance, so that their function\nis henceforth to express the same, and they claim to be interpreted,\nas though the Idea itself was present in them. A rationale of this\nis to be found in the fact that the external objects of reality do\nessentially possess an aspect in which they are qualified to express\na universal import. But as a completely adequate coalescence is not\nyet possible, all that can be the outcome of such a relation is an\n_abstract attribute_, as when a lion is understood to symbolize\nstrength.\n\nOn the other hand this abstractness of the relation makes present\nto consciousness no less markedly how the Idea stands relatively to\nnatural phenomena as an alien; and albeit it expatiates in all these\nshapes, having no other means of expression among all that is real, and\nseeks after itself in their unrest and defects of genuine proportion,\nyet for all that it finds them inadequate to meet its needs. It\nconsequently exaggerates natural shapes and the phenomena of Nature in\nevery degree of indefinite and limitless extension; it flounders about\nin them like a drunkard, and seethes and ferments, doing violence to\ntheir truth with the distorted growth of unnatural shapes, and strives\nvainly by the contrast, hugeness, and splendour of the forms accepted\nto exalt the phenomena to the plane of the Idea. For the Idea is here\nstill more or less indeterminate, and unadaptable, while the objects of\nNature are wholly definite in their shape.\n\nHence, on account of the incompatibility of the two sides of ideality\nand objective form to one another, the relation of the Idea to the\nother becomes a _negative_ one. The former, being in its nature ideal,\nis unsatisfied with such an embodiment, and posits itself as its inward\nor ideally universal substance under a relation of _sublimity_ over and\nabove all this inadequate superfluity of natural form. In virtue of\nthis sublimity the natural phenomena, of course, and the human form and\nevent are accepted and left simply as they are, but at the same time,\nrecognized as unequal to their significance, which is exalted far above\nall earthly content.\n\nThese features constitute in general terms the character of the\nprimitive artistic pantheism of the East, which, on the one hand,\ncharges the meanest objects with the significance of the absolute\nIdea, or, on the other, compels natural form, by doing violence to its\nstructure, to express its world-ideas. And, in consequence, it becomes\nbizarre, grotesque, and deficient in taste, or turns the infinite but\nabstract freedom of the substantive Idea contemptuously against all\nphenomenal existence as alike nugatory and evanescent. By such means\nthe significance cannot be completely presented in the expression, and\ndespite all straining and endeavour the final inadequacy of plastic\nconfiguration to Idea remains insuperable. Such may be accepted as the\nfirst type of art--symbolic art with its yearning, its fermentation,\nits mystery, and sublimity.\n\n(_b_) In the _second_ type of art, which we propose to call\n\"_Classical_,\" the twofold defect of symbolic art is annulled. Now\nthe symbolic configuration is imperfect, because, first, the Idea\nhere only enters into consciousness in _abstract_ determinacy or\nindeterminateness: and, secondly, by reason of the fact that the\ncoalescence of import with embodiment can only throughout remain\ndefective, and in its turn also wholly abstract. The classical art-type\nsolves both these difficulties. It is, in fact, the free and adequate\nembodiment of the Idea in the shape which, according to its notional\nconcept, is uniquely appropriate to the Idea itself. The Idea is\nconsequently able to unite in free and completely assonant concord with\nit. For this reason the classical type of art is the first to present\nus with the creation and vision of the complete Ideal, and to establish\nthe same as realized fact.\n\nThe conformability, however, of notion and reality in the classical\ntype ought not to be taken in the purely _formal_ sense of the\ncoalescence of a content with its external form, any more than this was\npossible in the case of the Ideal. Otherwise every copy from Nature,\nand every kind of portrait, every landscape, flower, scene, and so\nforth, which form the aim of the presentment, would at once become\nclassical in virtue of the fact of the agreement it offers between such\ncontent and form. In classical art, on the contrary, the characteristic\nfeature of the content consists in this, that it is itself concrete\nIdea, and as such the concrete spiritual; for it is only that which\npertains to Spirit which is veritable ideality[142]. To secure such a\ncontent we must find out that in Nature which on its own account is\nthat which is essentially and explicitly appropriate to the spiritual.\nIt must be the _original_ notion itself[143], which has invented the\nform for concrete spirituality, and now the _subjective_ notion--in\nthe present case the spirit of art--has merely _discovered_ it, and\nmade it, as an existence possessed of natural shape, concordant with\nfree and individual spirituality. Such a configuration, which the\nIdea essentially possesses as spiritual, and indeed as individually\ndeterminate spirituality, when it must perforce appear as a temporal\nphenomenon, is the _human form._ Personification and anthropomorphism\nhave frequently been abused as a degradation of the spiritual. But\nart, in so far as its function is to bring to vision the spiritual\nin sensuous guise, must advance to such anthropomorphism, inasmuch\nas Spirit is only adequately presented to perception in its bodily\npresence. The transmigration of souls in this respect an abstract\nconception[144], and physiology ought to make it one of its fundamental\nprinciples, that life has necessarily, in the course of its evolution,\nto proceed to the human form, for the reason that it is alone the\nvisible phenomenon adequate to the expression of intelligence.\n\nThe human bodily form, then, is employed in the classical type of art\nnot as purely sensuous existence, but exclusively as the existence and\nnatural shape appropriate to mind. It has therefore to be relieved\nof all the defective excrescences which adhere to it in its purely\nphysical aspect, and from the contingent finiteness of its phenomenal\nappearance. The external shape must in this way be purified in order\nto express in itself the content adequate for such a purpose; and,\nfurthermore, along with this, that the coalescence of import and\nembodiment may be complete, the spirituality which constitutes the\ncontent must be of such a character that it is completely able to\nexpress itself in the natural form of man, without projecting beyond\nthe limits of such expression within the sensuous and purely physical\nsphere of existence. Under such a condition Spirit is at the same\ntime defined as particular, the spirit or mind of man, not as simply\nabsolute and eternal. In this latter case it is only capable of\nasserting and expressing itself as intellectual being[145].\n\nOut of this latter distinction arises, in its turn, the defect which\nbrings about the dissolution of the classical type of art, and makes\nthe demand for a third and higher form, namely the _romantic_ type.\n\n(_c_) The romantic type of art annuls the completed union of the Idea\nand its reality, and occurs, if on a higher plane, to the difference\nand opposition of both sides, which remained unovercome in symbolic\nart. The classical type of art no doubt attained the highest excellence\nof which the sensuous embodiment of art is capable. The defect, such\nas it is, is due to the defect which obtains in art itself throughout,\nthe limitations of its entire province, that is to say. The limitation\nconsists in this, that art in general and, agreeably to its fundamental\nidea, accepts for its object Spirit, the notion of which is infinite\nconcrete universality, under the guise of sensuously concrete form. In\nthe classical type it sets up the perfected coalescence of spiritual\nand sensuous existence as adequate conformation of both. As a matter of\nfact, however, in this fusion mind itself is not represented agreeably\nto its _true notional concept._ Mind is the infinite subjectivity of\nthe Idea, which as absolute inwardness[146], is not capable of freely\nexpanding in its entire independence, so long as it remains within the\nmould of the bodily shape, fused therein as in the existence wholly\ncongenial to it.\n\nTo escape from such a condition the romantic type of art once more\ncancels that inseparable unity of the classical type, by securing\na content which passes beyond the classical stage and its mode\nof expression. This content, if we may recall familiar ideas--is\ncoincident with what Christianity affirms to be true of God as Spirit,\nin contrast to the Greek faith in gods which forms the essential and\nmost fitting content of classical art. In Greek art the concrete ideal\nsubstance is potentially, but not as fully realized, the unity of the\nhuman and divine nature; a unity which for the very reason that it\nis purely _immediate_ and not wholly explicit, is manifested without\ndefect under an immediate and _sensuous_ mode. The Greek god is the\nobject of na\u00efve intuition and sensuous imagination. His shape is\ntherefore the bodily form of man. The sphere of his power and his being\nis individual and individually limited; and in his opposition to the\nindividual person[147] is an essence and a power with whom the inward\nlife of soul[148] is merely potentially in unity, but does not itself\npossess this unity as inward subjective knowledge. The higher stage\nis the _knowledge_ of this _implied_ unity, which in its latency the\nclassical art-type receives as its content and is able to perfectly\nrepresent in bodily shape. This elevation of mere potentiality into\nself-conscious knowledge constitutes an enormous difference. It is\nnothing less than the infinite difference which, for example, separates\nman generally from the animal creation. Man is animal; but even in\nhis animal functions he is not restricted within the potential sphere\nas the animal is, but becomes conscious of them, learns to understand\nthem, and raises them--as, for instance, the process of digestion--into\nself-conscious science. By this means man dissolves the boundaries of\nhis merely potential immediacy; in virtue of the very fact that he\nknows himself to be animal he ceases to be merely animal, and as mind\nis endowed with self-knowledge.\n\nIf, then, in this way the unity of the human and divine nature,\nwhich in the previous stage was potential, is raised out of this\nimmediate into a self-conscious unity, it follows that the genuine\nmedium for the reality of this content is no longer the sensuous\nand immediate existence of what is spiritual, that is, the physical\nbody of man, but the _self-aware_ inner life of _soul itself._ Now\nit is Christianity--for the reason that it presents to mind God as\n_Spirit_, and not as the particular individual spirit, but as absolute\nin spirit and in truth--which steps back from the sensuousness of\nimagination into the inward life of reason, and makes _this_ rather\nthan _bodily_ form the medium and determinate existence of its content.\nSo also, the unity of the human and divine nature is a conscious unity\nexclusively capable of realization by means of _spiritual_ knowledge,\nand in _Spirit._ The new content secured thereby is consequently not\nindefeasibly bound up with the sensuous presentation, as the mode\ncompletely adequate, but is rather delivered from this immediate\nexistence, which has to be hypostatized as a negative factor, overcome\nand reflected back into the spiritual unity. In this way romantic art\nmust be regarded as art transcending itself, albeit within the boundary\nof its own province, and in the form of art itself.\n\nWe may therefore briefly summarize our conclusion that in this third\nstage the object of art consists in the free and concrete presence\nof spiritual activity[149], whose vocation it is to appear as such a\npresence or activity for the inner world of conscious intelligence. In\nconsonance with such an object art cannot merely work for sensuous\nperception. It must deliver itself to the inward life, which coalesces\nwith its object simply as though this were none other than itself[150],\nin other words, to the intimacy of soul, to the heart, the emotional\nlife, which as the medium of Spirit itself essentially strives after\nfreedom, and seeks and possesses its reconciliation only in the inner\nchamber of spirit. It is this inward or ideal world which constitutes\nthe content of the romantic sphere: it will therefore necessarily\ndiscover its representation as such inner idea or feeling, and in the\nshow or appearance of the same. The world of the soul and intelligence\ncelebrates its triumph over the external world, and, actually in the\nmedium of that outer world, makes that victory to appear, by reason of\nwhich the sensuous appearance sinks into worthlessness.\n\nOn the other hand, this type of art, like every other, needs an\nexternal vehicle of expression. As already stated, the spiritual\ncontent has here withdrawn from the external world and its immediate\nunity into its own world. The sensuous externality of form is\nconsequently accepted and represented, as in the symbolic type, as\nunessential and transient; furthermore the subjective finite spirit\nand volition is treated in a similar way; a treatment which even\nincludes the idiosyncrasies or caprice of individuals, character,\naction, or the particular features of incident and plot. The aspect\nof external existence is committed to contingency and handed over to\nthe adventurous action of imagination, whose caprice is just as able\nto reflect the facts given _as_ they are[151], as it can change the\nshapes of the external world into a medley of its own invention and\ndistort them to mere caricature. For this external element has no\nlonger its notion and significance in its own essential province, as in\nclassical art. It is now discovered in the emotional realm, and this\nis manifested in the medium of that realm itself rather than in the\nexternal and _its_ form of reality, and is able to secure or to recover\nagain the condition of reconciliation with itself in every accident,\nin all the chance circumstance that falls into independent shape, in\nall misfortune and sorrow, nay, in crime itself.\n\nHence it comes about that the characteristics of symbolic art, its\nindifference, incompatibility and severance of Idea from configurative\nexpression, are here reproduced once more, if with essential\ndifference. And this difference consists in the fact that in romantic\nart the Idea, whose defectiveness, in the case of the symbol, brought\nwith it the defect of external form, has to display itself as Spirit\nand in the medium of soul-life as essentially self-complete. And it\nis to complete fundamentally this higher perfection that it withdraws\nitself from the external element, It can, in short, seek and consummate\nits true reality and manifestation nowhere but in its own domain.\n\nThis we may take to be in general terms the character of the symbolic,\nclassical, and romantic types of art, which in fact constitute\nthe three relations of the Idea to its embodiment in the realm of\nhuman art. They consist in the aspiration after, the attainment and\ntranscendency of the Ideal, viewed as the true concrete notion of\nbeauty.\n\n4. In contrast to these two previous divisions of our subject the\n_third_ part presupposes the notional concept of the Ideal, and the\nuniversal art-types. It in other words consists in their realization\nthrough specific sensuous media. We have consequently no longer to deal\nwith the inner or ideal evolution of the beauty of art in conformity\nwith its widest and most fundamental determinations. What we have\nnow before us to consider is how these ideal determinants pass into\nactual existence, how they are distinguishable in their external\naspect, and how they give an independent and a realized shape to every\nelement implied in the evolution of this Idea of beauty as _a work of\nart_, and not merely as a _universal type._ Now it is the peculiar\ndifferences immanent in the Idea of beauty which are carried over by\nit into external existence. For this reason in this third fundamental\ndivision these general art-types must themselves supply the basic\nprinciple for the articulation and definition of the _particular\narts._ Or, to put the same thing another way, the several species\nof art possess in themselves the same essential differences, which\nwe have already become acquainted with as the universal art-types.\n_External_ objectivity, however, to which these types are subjected\nin a sensuous and consequently _specific_ material, necessitates the\ndifferentiation of these types into diverse and independent modes of\nrealization, in other words, those of particular arts. Each general\ntype discovers its determinate character in one determinate external\nmaterial or medium, in which its adequate presentation is secured\nunder the manner it prescribes. But, from another point of view, these\ntypes of art, inasmuch as their definition is none the less consistent\nwith the fact of the _universality_ of their typical import, break\nthrough the boundaries of their _specific_ realization in some definite\nart-species, and achieve an existence in other arts no less, although\ntheir position in such is of subordinate importance. For this reason,\nalbeit the particular arts belong specifically to one of these general\nart-types respectively, the _adequate_ external embodiment whereof\nthey severally constitute, yet this does not prevent them, each after\nits own mode of external configuration, from representing the totality\nof these art-types[152]. To summarize, then, in this third principal\ndivision we are dealing with the beauty of art, as it unveils itself in\na world of realized beauty by means of the arts and their creations.\nThe content of this world is the beautiful, and the true beautiful,\nas we have seen, is spiritual being in concrete form, the Ideal; or\napprehended with still more intimacy it is the absolute mind and truth\nitself. This region of divine truth artistically presented to sensuous\nvision and emotion forms the centre of the entire world of art. It\nis the independent, free and divine Image[153], which has completely\nappropriated the externality of form and medium, and now wears them\nsimply as the means of its self-manifestation. Inasmuch, however, as\nthe beautiful is unfolded here as _objective_ reality, and in this\nprocess is differentiated into particular aspects and phases, this\ncentre posits its extremes, as realized in their peculiar actuality, in\nantithetical relation to itself. Thus one of these extremes consists\nof an objectivity as yet devoid of mind, which we may call the natural\nenvironment of God. Here the external element, when it receives form,\nremains as it was, and does not possess its spiritual aim and content\nin itself, but in another[154]. The other extreme is the divine as\ninward, something known, as the manifold particularized _subjective_\nexistence of Deity. It is the truth as operative and vital in sense,\nsoul, and intelligence of particular persons, which does not persist\nas poured forth into its mould of external shape, but returns into the\ninward life of individuals. The Divine is under such a mode at once\ndistinguishable from its pure manifestation as Godhead, and passes\nitself thereby into the variety of particularization which belongs to\nevery kind of particular subjective knowledge, feeling, perception,\nand emotion. In the analogous province of religion with which art, at\nits highest elevation, is immediately connected, we conceive the same\ndistinction as follows. First, we imagine the natural life on Earth in\nits finitude as standing on one side; but then, secondly, the human\nconsciousness accepts God for its object, in which the distinction\nbetween objectivity and subjectivity falls away; then, finally, we\nadvance from God as such to the devotion of the _community_, that is to\nGod as He is alive and present in the subjective consciousness. These\nthree fundamental modifications present themselves in the world of art\nin independent evolution.\n\n(_a_) The _first_ of the particular arts with which, according to their\nfundamental principle, we have to start is architecture considered\nas a fine art. Its function consists in so elaborating the external\nmaterial of inorganic Nature that the same becomes intimately connected\nwith Spirit as an artistic and external environment. Its medium is\nmatter itself as an external object, a heavy mass that is subject\nto mechanical laws; and its forms persist as the forms of inorganic\nNature co-ordinated with the relations of the abstract understanding\nsuch as symmetry and so forth. In this material and in these forms the\nIdeal is incapable of realization as concrete spirituality, and the\nreality thus presented remains confronting the Idea as an external\nfabric with which it enters into no fusion, or has only entered so\nfar as to establish an abstract relation. And it is in consequence\nof this that the fundamental type of the art of building is that of\n_symbolism._ Architecture is in fact the first pioneer on the highway\ntoward the adequate realization of Godhead. In this service it is put\nto severe labour with objective nature, that it may disengage it by\nits effort from the confused growth of finitude and the distortions of\ncontingency. By this means it levels a space for the God, informs His\nexternal environment, and builds Him His temple, as a fit place for\nthe concentration of Spirit, and its direction to the absolute objects\nof intelligent life. It raises an enclosure for the congregation of\nthose assembled, as a defence against the threatening of the tempest,\nagainst rain, the hurricane, and savage animals. It in short reveals\nthe will thus to assemble, and although under an external relation, yet\nin agreement with the principles of art. A significance such as this it\ncan to a greater or less extent import into its material and its forms,\nin proportion as the determinate content of its fabric, which is the\nobject of its operations and effort, is more or less significant, is\nmore concrete or more abstract, more profound in penetrating its own\nessential depth, or more obscure and superficial. Indeed architecture\nmay in this respect proceed so far in the execution of such a purpose\nas to create an adequate artistic existence for such an ideal content\nin its very forms and material. In doing so, however, it has already\npassed beyond its peculiar province and is diverted into the stage\nimmediately above it of sculpture. For the boundary of sculpture\nlies precisely, in this that it retains the spiritual as an inward\nbeing which persists in direct contrast to the external embodiment\nof architecture. It can consequently merely point to that which is\nabsorbed in soul-life as to something external to itself.\n\n(_b_) Nevertheless, as above explained, the external and inorganic\nworld is purified by architecture, it is co-ordinated under symmetrical\nlaws, and made cognate with mind, and as a result the temple of God,\nthe house of his community, stands before us. Into this temple, in\nthe _second_ place, the God himself enters in the lightning-flash of\nindividuality which smites its way into the inert mass, permeating the\nsame with its presence. In other words the infinite[155] and no longer\npurely symmetrical form belonging to intelligence brings as it were\nto a focus and informs the shape in which it is most at home. This is\nthe task of _sculpture._ In so far as in it the inward life of Spirit,\nto which the art of architecture can merely point away to, makes its\ndwelling within the sensuous shape and its external material, and\nto the extent that these two sides come into plastic communion with\none another in such a manner that neither is predominant, sculpture\nreceives as its fundamental type the _classical_ art-form.\n\nFor this reason the sensuous element on its own account admits of no\nexpression here which is not affected by spiritual affinities[156],\njust as, conversely, sculpture can reproduce with completeness no\nspiritual content, which does not maintain throughout adequate\npresentation to perception in bodily form. What sculpture, in\nshort, has to do is to make the presence of Spirit stand before us\nin its bodily shape and in immediate union therewith at rest and\nin blessedness; and this form has to be made vital by means of the\ncontent of spiritual individuality. The external sensuous material\nis consequently no longer elaborated either in conformity with its\nmechanical quality alone, as a mass of weight, nor in shapes of the\ninorganic world simply, nor in entire indifference to colour, etc. It\nis carried into the ideal forms of the human figure, and, we may add,\nin the completeness of all three spatial dimensions. In other words and\nrelatively to such a process we must maintain for sculpture that in\nit the inward or ideal content of Spirit are first revealed in their\neternal repose and essential self-stability. To such repose and unity\nwith itself there can only correspond that external shape which itself\npersists in such unity and repose. And this condition is satisfied by\nconfiguration viewed in its _abstract spatiality._[157] The spirit\nwhich sculpture represents is that which is essentially sound, not\nbroken up in the play of chance conceits and passions; and for this\nreason its external form also is not dissolved in the manifold variety\nof appearance, but exhibits itself under this one presentment only as\nthe abstraction of space in the totality of its dimensions.\n\nAssuming, then, that the art of architecture has executed its temple,\nand the hand of sculpture has placed therein the image of the god, we\nhave in the _third_ place to assume the _community_ of the faithful\nas confronting the god thus presented to vision in the wide chambers\nof his dwelling-place. Now this community is the spiritual reflection\ninto its own world of that sensuous presence, the subjective and inward\nanimating life of soul, in its union with which, both for the artistic\ncontent and the external material which manifests it, the determining\nprinciple may be identified with particularization in varied shapes\nand qualities, individualization and the life of soul[158] which they\nimply. The downright and solid fact of unity the god possesses in\nsculpture breaks up into the multiplicity of a world of particular\nsouls[159], whose union is no longer sensuous but wholly ideal.\n\nHere for the first time God Himself is revealed as veritably\nSpirit--viz., the Spirit revealed in His community. Here at last He\nis seen apprehended as this moving to-and-fro, as this alternation\nbetween His own essential unity and His realization in the knowledge\nof individual persons and that separation which it involves, as also\nin the universal spiritual, being[160] and union of the many. In such\na community God is disengaged from the abstraction of His unfolded\nself-seclusion and self-identity, no less than from the immediate\nabsorption in bodily shape, in which He is presented by sculpture. He\nis, in a word, lifted into the actual sphere of spiritual existence\nand knowledge, into the reflected appearance, whose manifestation\nis essentially inward and the life of heart and soul. Thereby the\nhigher content is now the nature of Spirit, and that in its ultimate\nor absolute shape. But at the same time the separation to which\nwe have alluded displays this as _particular_ spiritual being, a\nspecific emotional life. Moreover, for the reason that the main\nthing here is not the untroubled repose of the God in himself[161],\nbut his manifestation simply, the Being which is _for another_,\nself-revealment in fact, it follows that, on the plane we have now\nreached, all the varied content of human subjectivity in its vital\nmovement and activity, whether viewed as passion, action, or event,\nor more generally the wide realm of human feeling, volition and its\ndiscontinuance, become one and all for their own sake objects of\nartistic representation.\n\nAgreeably with such a content the sensuous element of art has likewise\nto show itself potentially adapted to such particularization and the\ndisplay of such an inward content of heart and mind. Media of this\ndescription are supplied by colour, musical tones, and finally in sound\nas mere sign for ideal perceptions and conceptions; and we further\nobtain the means of realizing with the use of such media a content\nof this kind in the arts of painting, music, and poetry. Throughout\nthis sphere the sensuous medium is found to be essentially disparate\nin itself and throughout posited[162] as ideal. In this way it\nresponds in the highest degree to the fundamentally spiritual content\nof art, and the coalescence of spiritual significance and sensuous\nmaterial attains a more intimate union than was possible either in\narchitecture or sculpture. At the same time such a union is necessarily\nmore near to soul-life, leaning exclusively to the subjective side\nof human experience; one which, in so far as form and content are\nthus constrained to particularization and to posit their result as\nideal, can only be actually effected at the expense of the objective\nuniversality of the content as also of the fusion with the immediately\nsensuous medium[163].\n\nThe arts, then, which are lifted into a higher strain of ideality,\nabandoning as they do the symbolism of architecture and the classical\nIdeal of sculpture, accept their predominant type from the _romantic_\nart-form; and these are the arts most fitted to express its mode of\nconfiguration. They are, however, a totality of arts, because the\nromantic type is itself essentially the most concrete.\n\n(_c_) The articulation of this _third sphere_ of the particular arts\nmay be fixed as follows:\n\n(_\u03b1_) The _first_ art which comes next to sculpture is that of\npainting. It avails itself for a medium of its content and the plastic\nconfiguration of the same of visibility as such, to the extent that\nit is differentiated in its own nature, in other words is defined in\nthe continuity of colour. No doubt the material of architecture and\nsculpture is likewise both visible and coloured. It is, however, not,\nas in painting, visibility in its pure nature, not the essentially\nsimple light, which by its differentiating of itself in its opposition\nto darkness, and in association with that darkness gives rise to\ncolour[164]. This quality of visibility made essentially ideal[165]\nand treated as such no longer either requires, as in architecture, the\nabstractly mechanical qualities of mass as appropriate to materials of\nweight, nor, as is the case with sculpture, the complete dimensuration\nof spatial condition, even when concentrated into organic forms. The\nvisibility and the making apparent, which belong to painting, possess\ndifferences of quality under a more ideal mode--that is, in the\nspecific varieties of colour--which liberates art from the objective\ntotality of spatial condition, by being limited to a plane surface.\n\nOn the other hand the content also attains the widest compass of\nparticularity. Whatever can find a place in the human heart, as\nemotion, idea, and purpose, whatever it is capable of actually\nshaping--all such diversity may form part of the varied presentations\nof painting. The entire world of particular existence, from the most\nexalted embodiment of mind to the most insignificant natural fact,\nfinds a place here. For it is possible even for finite Nature, in its\nparticular scenes and phenomena, to form part of such artistic display,\nprovided only that we have some reference to conscious life which makes\nit akin to human thought and emotion[166].\n\n(_\u03b2_) The _second_ art which continues the further realization of the\nromantic type and forms a distinct contrast to painting is that of\n_music._ Its medium, albeit still sensuous, yet proceeds into still\nprofounder subjectivity and particularization. We have here, too, the\ndeliberate treatment of the sensuous medium as ideal, and it consists\nin the negation and idealization into the isolated unity of a single\npoint[167], the indifferent external collocation of space[168], whose\ncomplete appearance is retained by painting and deliberately feigned\nin its completeness. This isolated point, viewed as this process of\nnegation, is an essentially concrete and active process of cancellation\nwithin the determinate substance of the material medium, viewed, that\nis, as motion and vibration of the material object within itself and in\nits relation to itself. Such an inchoate ideality of matter, which no\nlonger appears under the form of space, but as temporal ideality[169],\nis sound or tone. We have here the sensuous set down as negated, and\nits abstract visibility converted into audibility. In other words sound\nliberates the ideal content from its fetters in the material substance.\nThis earliest[170] secured inwardness of matter and impregnation of\nit with soul-life supplies the medium for the intimacy and soul of\nSpirit--itself as yet indefinite--permitting, as it does, the echo\nand reverberation of man's emotional world through its entire range\nof feelings and passions. In this way music forms the centre of the\nromantic arts, just as sculpture represents the midway point of arrest\nbetween architecture and the arts of the romantic subjectivity. Thus,\ntoo, it forms the point of transition between the abstract, spatial\nsensuousness of painting and the abstract spirituality of poetry.\nMusic carries within itself, like architecture, and in contrast to the\nemotional world simply and its inward self-seclusion, a relation of\nquantity conformable to the principles of the understanding and their\nmodes of co-ordinated configuration[171].\n\n(_\u03b3_) We must look for our _third_ and most spiritual type of artistic\npresentation among the romantic arts in that of _poetry._ The supreme\ncharacteristic of poetry consists in the power with which it brings\ninto vassalage of the mind and its conceptions the sensuous element\nfrom which music and painting began to liberate art. For sound, the\nonly remaining external material retained by poetry, is in it no\nlonger the feeling of the sonorous itself, but is a mere sign without\nindependent significance. And it is, moreover, a sign of idea which has\nbecome essentially concrete, and not merely[172] of indefinite feeling\nand its subtle modes and gradations. And this is how sound develops\ninto the Word, as essentially articulate voice, whose intention it is\nto indicate ideas and thoughts. The purely negative moment to which\nmusic advanced now asserts itself as the wholly concrete point, the\npoint which is mind itself, the self-conscious individual, which\nproduces from itself the infinite expansion of its ideas and unites\nthe same with the temporal condition of sound. Yet this sensuous\nelement, which was still in music immediately united to emotion, is in\npoetry separated from the content of consciousness. Mind, in short,\nhere determines this content for its own sake and apart from all else\ninto the content of idea; to express such idea it no doubt avails\nitself of sound, but employs it merely as a sign without independent\nworth or substance. Thus viewed, the sound here may be just as well\nreproduced by the mere letter, for the audible, like the visible, is\nhere reduced to a mere indication of mind[173]. For this reason, the\ntrue medium of poetical representation is the poetical imagination and\nthe intellectual presentation itself; and inasmuch as this element\nis common to all types of art it follows that poetry is a common\nthread through them all, and is developed independently in each.\nPoetry is, in short, the universal art of the mind, which has become\nessentially free, and which is not fettered in its realization to an\nexternally sensuous material, but which is creatively active in the\nspace, and time belonging to the inner world of ideas and emotion. Yet\nit is precisely in this its highest phase, that art terminates, by\ntranscending itself; it is just here that it deserts the medium of a\nharmonious presentation of mind in sensuous shape and passes from the\npoetry of imaginative idea into the prose of thought.\n\nSuch we may accept as the articulate totality of the particular\narts; they are the external art of architecture, the objective art\nof sculpture and the subjective arts of painting, music, and poetry.\nMany other classifications than these have been attempted, for a work\nof art presents such a wealth of aspects, that it is quite possible,\nas has frequently been the case, to make first one and then another\nthe basis of division. For instance, you may take the sensuous medium\nsimply. Architecture may then be viewed as a kind of crystallization;\nsculpture, as the organic configuration of material in its sensuous\nand spatial totality; painting as the coloured surface and line, while\nin music, space, as such, passes over into the point or moment of\ntime replete with content in itself, until we come finally to poetry,\nwhere the external medium is wholly suppressed into insignificance.\nOr, again, these differences have been viewed with reference to their\npurely abstract conditions of space and time. Such abstract divisions\nof works of art may, as their medium also may be consequentially traced\nin their characteristic features. They cannot, however, be worked out\nas the final and fundamental principle, because such aspects themselves\nderive their origins from a higher principle, and must therefore fall\ninto subordination thereto.\n\nThis higher principle we have discovered in the types of art--symbolic,\nclassical, and romantic--which are the universal stages or phases of\nthe Idea of beauty itself.\n\nTheir relation to the individual arts in their concrete manifestation\nas embodiment is of a kind that these arts constitute the real and\npositive existence of these general art-types. For _symbolic_ art\nattains its most adequate realization and most pertinent application\nin _architecture_, in which it expatiates in the full import of its\nnotion, and is not as yet depreciated, as it were, into the merely\ninorganic nature dealt with by some other art. The _classical_ type of\nart finds its unfettered realization, on the other hand, in sculpture,\ntreating architecture merely as the enclosure which surrounds it,\nand being unable to elaborate painting and music into the wholly\nadequate[174] forms of its content. Finally, the _romantic_ art-type\nis supreme in the products of painting and music, and likewise in\npoetical composition, as their preeminent and unconditionally adequate\nmodes of expression. Poetry is, however, conformable to all types of\nthe beautiful, and its embrace reaches them all for the reason that\nthe poetic imagination is its own proper medium, and imagination is\nessential to every creation of beauty, whatever its type may be.\n\nTo sum up, then, what the particular arts realize in particular works\nof art, are according to their fundamental conception, simply the\nuniversal types which constitute the self-unfolding Idea of beauty.\nIt is as the external realization of this Idea that the wide Pantheon\nof art is being raised; and the architect and builder thereof is the\nspirit of beauty as it gradually comes to self-cognition, and to\ncomplete which the history of the world will require its evolution of\ncenturies.\n\n[Footnote 1: The introduction begins as an introduction of lectures.\nBut as the work is merely based to a large extent on notes for\nlectures, or on a manuscript which did not preserve the lectures as\nthey were delivered, it will be found most convenient to ignore this\nfact, and in references to regard it simply as a written treatise.]\n\n[Footnote 2: Hegel, alluding no doubt to the words of the Gospel, puts\nit \"born and born again from mind (spirit).\"]\n\n[Footnote 3: It is assumed that such a fancy is seized and defined as\nsuch in separation from other experience.]\n\n[Footnote 4: The sentence is slightly ironical.]\n\n[Footnote 5: _Dem Scheine._]\n\n[Footnote 6: _Raisonnements_: a disparaging expression.]\n\n[Footnote 7: Hegel here means the formal character, not the material on\nwhich it is imposed in the several arts.]\n\n[Footnote 8: Hegel says, \"as that which has no right to be,\" _das\nNichtseyn sollende._]\n\n[Footnote 9: _Erscheine_ as contrasted with _scheine._]\n\n[Footnote 10: _Das An-und-F\u00fcrsichseyende._ That which is explicitly to\nitself self-determinate being, no less than essentially such in its\nsubstantive right.]\n\n[Footnote 11: _Besonnener Art._ Possibly Hegel means \"one more\ncompatible with common sense.\"]\n\n[Footnote 12: I think by the words _kunst wieder hervorzurufen_ Hegel\nrather means to call up art as it was previously cultivated than merely\nto \"stimulate art production.\" The latter is, however, Professor\nBosanquet's translation.]\n\n[Footnote 13: _Subjective_ apparently in the sense of being wholly\npersonal to the writer or philosopher in so far as the form of his\ntreatise deals in classification and arrangement peculiar to himself\nand so _external_, if not entirely arbitrary.]\n\n[Footnote 14: I agree with the note of Professor Bosanquet (Trans., p.\n21) that the word _element_ refers here to the mental constituents of\nart, as contrasted with the sensuous medium.]\n\n[Footnote 15: That is to say, the essential formative process involved\nin its necessity.]\n\n[Footnote 16: There must be a misprint or oversight in Professor\nBosanquet's rendering of this passage (p. 21). As the sentence now\nstands it does not appear to me to make sense.]\n\n[Footnote 17: _Von ihm._ The pronoun, I take it, must refer here to\n_das Andere_ rather than the subject of the verb.]\n\n[Footnote 18: \"Makes itself an alien to itself\" perhaps expresses the\nGerman better.]\n\n[Footnote 19: That is, the work of art.]\n\n[Footnote 20: _Haltpunkte._ Points of arrest in essential ideas\nnecessary which restrain this tendency to purely arbitrary caprice.]\n\n[Footnote 21: I do not think the first part of this sentence ironical.\nHegel admits that a general knowledge is a legitimate feature of modern\nculture. But he points out that people are only too ready to confuse\nsuch a general knowledge with real art scholarship. To bring out this I\nhave translated rather freely.]\n\n[Footnote 22: Detail of historical fact and artistic observation.]\n\n[Footnote 23: It is historical, first, regarded as a survey of\nhistorical condition, and, secondly, because facts are collected\nwhether in relation to ancient or modern art as a historian collects\nhis facts.]\n\n[Footnote 24: Lit., the inmost or most ideal (meaning).]\n\n[Footnote 25: _Vollkommen._ Complete or rather completely articulate\nand rounded in itself. It is not easy to select the English word that\nexactly corresponds.]\n\n[Footnote 26: _Bestimmte Individualit\u00e4t._ The definition may, as Hegel\nsays, be more significant, but it is for all that not very clearly\nexpressed. Professor Bosanquet translates the words \"determinate\nindividual modification.\"]\n\n[Footnote 27: My view is that what Hegel means to say is that in\ncaricature ugliness is emphasized and made more (_n\u00e4her_) a part of\nthe content than belongs to the true nature of the characteristic of\nwhich it is (in Hegel's opinion) no essential determinant or property.\nThe view stated in the sentence is therefore a kind of _reductio ad\nabsurdum._ Professor Bosanquet's translation appears to me to leave it\ndoubtful whether the view stated is a just one or not. He translates\n_n\u00e4her_ by \"closely,\" not the comparative. In my view Hegel agrees\nthat caricature may be characteristic, but he does not agree that it\nis a genuine property of the characteristic where it is pressed to the\nexcess of ugliness.]\n\n[Footnote 28: _Bestimmung._]\n\n[Footnote 29: That is, in Hegel's view.]\n\n[Footnote 30: _Das Wahre_.]\n\n[Footnote 31: _Den denkenden Begriff._ It is possible that the \"notion\nof thought\" would express Hegel's meaning, as it would be a less\nstrange expression. But I have retained the more literal translation\nas the reference may be to the self-evolution of Thought in its own\ndialectical process, thought or the Idea thinking out itself in the\nHegelian sense. Professor Bosanquet seems to assume this, as he\ntranslates \"the thinking Idea.\"]\n\n[Footnote 32: _Kunstsch\u00f6nen._ I have translated this by the expression\n\"fine art\" because Hegel in the opening of the introduction makes the\nexpression interchangeable with _sch\u00f6ne kunst._ At the same time it\nmust be recollected that the emphasis here is even more on \"beauty\"\nthan the fact that it is the beauty of human art. And it is for\nthis reason, I presume, that Professor Bosanquet translates it here\n\"artistic beauty.\" The only objection I have to make to this, apart\nfrom Hegel's words I have referred to, is that the expression \"artistic\nbeauty\" is sometimes used to signify beauty that is capable of being\nexpressed by art. Of course that is excluded from Hegel's use of the\nterm; he means the beauty of artistic work.]\n\n[Footnote 33: _Subjektiven._]\n\n[Footnote 34: Independent, that is, of the consciousness of any\nparticular individual. Hegel does not necessarily mean independent of\nconsciousness altogether. He has, no doubt, generally in his mind the\nkind of scepticism which received its most logical exposition in Hume.]\n\n[Footnote 35: This appears to me the meaning of _zuf\u00e4lliger Sinn._\nProfessor Bosanquet translates it \"accidental sense.\" By that I presume\nhe understands the meaning to be \"a sense of beauty that is entirely\npersonal to the recipient,\" it may be possessed by one man, but not by\nanother. Hegel's illustration hardly supports this, so it seems to me.]\n\n[Footnote 36: I do not know the exact translation of _lemmatisch_, and\nby a curious slip the sentence is omitted from Professor Bosanquet's\ntranslation. The general sense is plain enough. Every particular\nscience accepts its subject-matter as a _datum_. It starts from the\nempirical fact. Whether it admits the assumption or not, it does assume\nsuch facts. It is obvious that Hegel's adoption of this standpoint is\nonly relatively true.]\n\n[Footnote 37: Hegel means, I presume, mainly in the introduction.\nAfter that he does in a qualified degree discuss the profounder import\nof the Idea of Fine Art. His statements are not perhaps wholly free\nfrom inconsistency, because he has previously said that apart from an\nencyclopaedic consideration of all the sciences, it was not possible to\ndo so, and also some of His statements seem to imply that he does not\nintend to do so.]\n\n[Footnote 38: That is, in the first Part of the entire treatise.]\n\n[Footnote 39: What Hegel means by the _die letzte einleitende\nBetrachtung_ I am not quite sure. I presume he means the introduction\nto the first Part. The whole of this paragraph is not very clear.]\n\n[Footnote 40: By man's sensitive life in its widest sense is, I think,\nintended.]\n\n[Footnote 41: The German words are _machen_ and _nachmachen._ We have\nno exact equivalents.]\n\n[Footnote 42: _Lit._, \"to fill out (_ausf\u00fcllen_) in complete\nequipment.\"]\n\n[Footnote 43: _Individuelle._]\n\n[Footnote 44: The German will admit of the interpretation that the\nreference is merely to genius, but I think Hegel clearly means that\nneither one nor the other can be thus conjured up.]\n\n[Footnote 45: At the end of the first main division of the work.]\n\n[Footnote 46: One of Meredith's correspondents has put the question\nwith all gravity whether he considered inspiration could be assisted\nby wine drinking. With equal gravity our humourist replied that though\nwine might be something of a restorative after mental effort it was\nnot his experience that it contributed to first-rate artistic work. He\nactually mentions the case of Schiller. Though I have read somewhere\nthat this poet used to be inspired by the smell of rotten apples I do\nnot recollect reading that he favoured the champagne bottle. Meredith\nalso mentions the case of Hoffmann, and adds that the type of his work\ndoes not increase our respect for the precedent.]\n\n[Footnote 47: _Eine \u00e4usserliche Arbeit._ A craftsmanship which\nhas to deal with the outside surface. We may translate \"external\ncraftsmanship\"; but the translation in the text gives the meaning best,\nI think.]\n\n[Footnote 48: _Keinen geistigen Stoff._ Professor Bosanquet translates\n\"spiritual content.\" I imagine the emphasis to be mainly on the absence\nof positive ideas available to knowledge. In any case Hegel appears\nto press his point of contrast too far. Men of genius such as Mozart\n(who was probably in his mind) and Schubert may bear him out. But on\nthe other hand we have a Keats, Shelley, and Raphael. Genius matures\nrapidly, but the greatest works of musical art no less than any other\nimply a real maturity of mind at least, and more than is here assumed\nof, I should say, a rich experience. Mozart, of course, upsets any\ntheory, and it is questionable even whether Mozart is really an\nexception. It depends on the point of view from which we are estimating\nthe intelligible content of music as an expression of soul-life.]\n\n[Footnote 49: The \"Iphigenie\" was completed in Goethe's thirty-eighth\nyear, fourteen years later than \"G\u00f6tz.\" The bulk of his more important\nworks are of the same date or later. Schiller's \"Wallenstein\" was\ncompleted after his thirty-fifth year.]\n\n[Footnote 50: This is surely not quite accurate. The medium of painting\nin the sense that speech or writing is the medium of poetry is not\ncanvas or panel but oil or other colour. Canvas would correspond with\nthe blank pages of a book.]\n\n[Footnote 51: Free, that is, from accidental and irrelevant matter.]\n\n[Footnote 52: Professor Bosanquet translates _sinnliche_ here as\n\"sensitive.\" I am inclined to think that Hegel here rather leaves out\nof sight the fact that in the process of Nature we have sensitive\norganic life no less than unconscious inorganic. His contrast is rather\nbetween the conscious life of man and unconscious nature, the conscious\nlife that is not self-conscious being for the object of the contrast\ntreated as equivalent to unconscious. He would also apparently ignore\nthe fact that man himself and the higher beauty which attaches to him\nis also from ope point of view a part of the natural process.]\n\n[Footnote 53: That is, apart from purely personal ends in its pursuit,\nwhich are accidental to its essential notion.]\n\n[Footnote 54: That is, in the medium of conscious life.]\n\n[Footnote 55: _Einmal._ They are there, but they do not know they are\nthere.]\n\n[Footnote 56: _Aus geistiger Bildung, i.e._, a high level of mental\nculture is necessary before the advent of civilized manners and\ncustoms in which spiritual life is reflected with real refinement and\ndirectness.]\n\n[Footnote 57: _Bed\u00fcrfniss zur Kunst._]\n\n[Footnote 58: _Lit._, \"In the form of the most abstract single\nsubjectivity.\" That is to say, that the main fact about it is that it\nis felt; but, except in respect to intensity, it cannot be described\nas an object of thought with defining attributes, It is abstract\nindividual sensation.]\n\n[Footnote 59: By the expression _Kreis_ Hegel would mean rather an\nindefinite sphere than a definite circle. The simile is perhaps not\nvery apt. The idea, apparently, is of a sphere of feeling, that is,\nsuch as being self-complete, but is so abstract or indefinable that the\nintroduction into it of positive ideas such as justice, etc., are the\nmere entrance of spectral forms which vanish in such an indefinable\nmedium, without disclosing their nature. They are felt but not cognized\nfor what they really are.]\n\n[Footnote 60: _Blinder_, blind in the sense that it is not guided by\ndeliberate and self-conscious reason, _i.e._, mere animal instinct.]\n\n[Footnote 61: A difficult sentence to translate. I have followed\nProfessor Bosanquet in assuming that the substantive with which\n_mangelhaft_ agrees must be borrowed from the following sentence,\nthough it seems also to be carried on in a loose kind of way from the\nprevious sentence (_Gesckmacksinn._) The entire sentence is built,\nas we have it, on the further confusion that there are two parallels\nwhich before the sentence ends are regarded as one! That is to say, the\ngeneral critical sense is contrasted with the critique of particular\nworks of art and further the defect of that general sense in its\nneglect of _universal_ principles is further contrasted with the way\nthe specific critique deals with _particular_ works. I hardly think,\nhowever, that my admirable predecessor is justified in ignoring the\ncomparative degree of _bestimmteres_, or in his translation of _Zeug_\nas \"power.\" I take it to mean the material of actual works of art.\nThe sentence is a good example of, some of the difficulties of Hegel\ntranslation.]\n\n[Footnote 62: _Die Sache._ The subject-matter in its most real sense as\n\"content.\"]\n\n[Footnote 63: That is, the so-called \"good taste.\"]\n\n[Footnote 64: _Begriff._ Concrete notional Idea.]\n\n[Footnote 65: That is, in his physical form.]\n\n[Footnote 66: Hegel is here considering desire abstractedly, that\nis, on its own account (_als solche._) It may of course in its turn\nsubserve a rational purpose, such as the preservation of health or\nlife. But the contrast here is between the relation of appetite, and\nthat of the theoretic faculty to objects.]\n\n[Footnote 67: _Sein Objekt._ The object in which he finds himself;\nrather this, I think, than that which he has created.]\n\n[Footnote 68: _Innerlich_, _i.e._, in the world of mind as contrasted\nwith that of the sensuous _vorhandene._]\n\n[Footnote 69: Hegel or his editors have \"in a converse way.\" This is\nobviously a mistake. In both examples the point is that the object\nis _preserved_ as against _desire_ with its destruction, and the\n_contemplative intelligence_ with its ideal transformation.]\n\n[Footnote 70: _Ein ideelles._ The meaning is, I think, that the\n_materia_ is stamped with the hall-mark of deliberate artistic purpose.\nThe ideality, though relatively jejune on such a work as the pyramids,\nin the higher reaches of art such as poetry and music affects of course\nthe medium itself, the musical chord being pure ideality. Professor\nBosanquet's translation omits this and the previous sentence, probably\nby an oversight. But it is also possible that this thinker conceived\nthe statement _as here expressed_ to be misleading, or at least open to\nmisconception. In architecture and even painting it is obvious, from\na certain point of view, the sensuous _materia_, if directed to an\nartistic end, remains none the less the material borrowed from natural\nfact though the fact as natural may be modified in its form. Painting\nmay _represent_ the semblance, but it employs a medium simply sensuous.\nHegel has mainly before his attention here obviously the arts of\npainting, poetry, and music.]\n\n[Footnote 71: They are _theoretical_ because as applied to a work of\nart they imply the presence of the contemplative faculty. In a later\nsection of the work Hegel makes a more complete analysis of what is\nimplied in the sense of hearing as applied to musical composition and\nin the colour sense. In both cases it is obvious the mind contributes\nto the facts cognized. Hearing is, however, from Hegel's point of view\nthe most _ideal_ of the two, and he conceives the position of the ears\nitself points to this distinction.]\n\n[Footnote 72: It may at least be questioned whether the ground given\nhere of this distinction, or part of it, is strictly accurate. It may\nbe said that our sense of sight and hearing are both in contact with\nthe waves of the medium, the vibration of which produces the impression\nwe call sound or light. The most obvious distinction then appears to be\nthat the natural object is left as it is by hearing and sight. This at\nleast holds good as against taste. But at least it may be questioned,\nI think, whether the sense of touch may not be the source of artistic\nenjoyment, certainly in the case of the blind. And the sense of smell\nat least leaves objects as they are, and some may contend that it is\na source of enjoyment of the beauty of Nature. Hegel would reply, of\ncourse, that no works of human art are enjoyed by such means. The main\nground is, however, that sight and hearing are the senses closest to\nintelligence.]\n\n[Footnote 73: By _Anschauungen_ Hegel apparently has in mind all the\nideas of poetry. We should certainly rather have expected the word\n_Vorstellungen_, the word used being rather \"visible perceptions.\" But\nthe three words here seem generally to denote the subject-matter of\npainting, music, and poetry.]\n\n[Footnote 74: Lit., \"Operative in the artist viewed (_i.e._, the\nartist) as the personal energy (_Subjektivit\u00e4t_) which creates.\"\nProfessor Bosanquet's translation \"as a productive state of the person\"\nwould appear to make \"the sensuous side\" a subjective state of the\nartist. But apart from construction, can we speak of this as a \"state\"?\nIt is modified by his energy--but it can hardly be regarded as a part\nof it.]\n\n[Footnote 75: I find it impossible to fix any one English equivalent\nto Hegel's use of the words _Einbildungskraft_, _Phantasie_, or\n_Vorstellung_, in the sense at least that fancy, imagination, or\nphantasy have been used and defined by famous English writers.\nGenerally speaking, I should say that _Phantasie_, or as it is called\nsometimes \"artistic\" or \"creative\" _Phantasie_, stands for the most\nintellectual faculty, though _Vorstellung_ is also used in much the\nsame sense. But it is impossible to arrive at any clear distinction\nsuch as was originally made so profoundly by Ruskin between fancy, the\ninstrument of poetical talent, the surface gift, and imagination or,\nas he called it, _penetrative_ imagination, which summarizes all the\npowers of a genius and personality and enters into the heart of the\nsubject-matter by an illuminating flash which _reveals_ reality rather\nthan illustrates by means of image. The present passage appears to me\neven more unsatisfactory than the more carefully digested analysis\nat the end of Part I, when Hegel discusses the artist. It not merely\nignores the indispensable presence of imagination in the pioneers\nof science, but appears to myself to confuse talent as the natural\ngift of a man with the mode in which it is exercised in presenting\nideas in sensuous imagery, or at least makes the former depend on the\nlatter. Professor Bosanquet translates _Phantasie_ here by \"fancy.\"\nBut \"fancy\" is, in our way of looking at it, precisely not the faculty\nwhich _distinctively_ belongs to \"the great mind and the big heart or\nsoul,\" though other parts of the description are more applicable. And\nin short, as I say, to fix definite English equivalents to Hegel's\nphraseology appears to me impossible.]\n\n[Footnote 76: _Die Phantasie_.]\n\n[Footnote 77: This is, I presume, Hegel's way of putting the simple\nfact, that much of the process of artistic production is unconscious.\nOne man instinctively draws, or picks up his notes on the piano,\nanother cannot. I think Hegel rather refers to this _original_ talent\nthan the much more important one in which genius, right into maturity,\nrides over difficulties without knowing how it does so. Such happy\nor even miraculous effects--such as artists sometimes playfully call\nthem--are obviously in part, if only in part, the result of profound\nartistic experience. He is dealing almost exclusively with the natural\nbias, which makes one man naturally an artist, whether creative or\nexecutant, and is absent from another. He hardly approaches the\nquestion what constitutes the artist of genius as contrasted with the\nman of natural talent.]\n\n[Footnote 78: This confirms the conclusion above.]\n\n[Footnote 79: _F\u00fcr sich._ If merely admired as imitation and nothing\nmore.]\n\n[Footnote 80: _Zur Ekelhaftigkeit._ \"Sickeningly like\" is Professor\nBosanquet's closer translation. The expression \"damnably like\" is not\nunknown.]\n\n[Footnote 81: I think with Professor Bosanquet that _phantastischen_\nis here not \"fantastic\" but strictly derived from _Phantasie_ in its\nsense of imagination. \"Completely,\" of course, as involving no direct\nimitation of Nature.]\n\n[Footnote 82: Formal, _i.e._, implying no creative supplement from the\nartist, purely mechanical.]\n\n[Footnote 83: It would be both instructive and interesting to discuss\nif, and how far, and by virtue of what, that distinct type of modern\nart known as \"still life,\" such as a few objects of the library, or\neven a shell or two and so on up to more important organic life was\nexcluded from this condemnation. It is quite clear that Ruskin would\nhave a good deal to say that would imply important qualification.]\n\n[Footnote 84: _Begeisterung._ I think this must be the meaning.\nInspiration hardly makes sense. It is art that is inspired, not those\nwho attend the celebration.]\n\n[Footnote 85: _Im Innersten_ is I think here obviously to be taken with\nthe verb, not with the substantives.]\n\n[Footnote 86: _Ueberhaupt._]\n\n[Footnote 87: The meaning of _in diesem Gebiete_ is, I presume, the\nactual world. But if so it is simply otiose, and I have left it out.]\n\n[Footnote 88: _Bestimmung._ The translation given appears to be the\nsense, though we should rather say weaken a _man_ from the pursuit of a\ndefinite course. Professor Bosanquet, who translates the word \"aim\" a\nlittle lower down, evades the word here.]\n\n[Footnote 89: _Raisonnirende_ here and _raissonnement_ below have\na depreciatory sense--and signify ordinary reasoning in the first\ninstance and the methods of the popular secularist in the second.]\n\n[Footnote 90: A sentence omitted by Professor Bosanquet, and it seems\nto amount to little more than a more generalized statement of what has\ngone before. The end of art both directly and indirectly concerns its\nsubject-matter, or rather, as Hegel puts it, the need of the notion or\nIdea of it carries us to a further end beyond the end shared in common\nby its particular content.]\n\n[Footnote 91: I follow Professor Bosanquet in his translation of the\nwords _als Allgemeines f\u00fcr sich zu zuerden_; but I am not sure that the\nmore literal translation is not simply as the words stand, the sense\nbeing not to be self-conscious of himself (_f\u00fcr sich_) as the universal\nprinciple, to be aware of this property, but rather as universal\nprinciple to become _for_ himself, _i.e._ \"independent of desire.\"]\n\n[Footnote 92: _Einheit_--unity to the point of fusion, identity.]\n\n[Footnote 93: _Unmittelbaren Befangenheit._ \"Sunkenness\" is Professor\nBosanquet's translation.]\n\n[Footnote 94: _Theoretic_ as a direct transcript of _\u03b8\u03b5\u03ce\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1, \u03b8\u03b5\u03c9\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd._]\n\n[Footnote 95: _Gesichtspunkte._ The various points of view necessary to\narrive at such a general conclusion.]\n\n[Footnote 96: Though not entirely confident I am right in accepting\nthe words _zu bringen_ as a repetition of the _hervorzubringen_\njust before, the alternative of Professor Bosanquet which takes the\nwords _wird zu bringen seyn_ as equivalent to _gebracht seyn sollte_\ncertainly appears to me no direct translation.]\n\n[Footnote 97: \"Poets aim at utility and entertainment alike.\"]\n\n[Footnote 98: I think that Hegel in his use of _erste_ here rather\nrefers to the fact of past history than a fact in the individual\nhistory of nations. \"Art is, in the early days of history, the\ninstructress of nations,\" gives, I think, his meaning. It is the first\ninstructress in the history of nations.]\n\n[Footnote 99: I venture to think if Professor Bosanquet's translation\nwere the right one the German would be _ein in sich selbst\ngebrochenes._ I do not think _in ihm selbst_ can be a German rendering\nof \"in itself.\" But I admit the translation is tempting whether Hegel\nhad in his mind the \"house divided against itself\" or not.]\n\n[Footnote 100: Lit., \"the spiritual universal,\" _i.e._, the universal\nsubstance of its ideal content.]\n\n[Footnote 101: Precisely as Ruskin, for example, in his \"Modern\nPainters\" condemns both Titian and Tintoret, not because they painted\nthe _Paradise_ or the _Assunta_, to produce fine paintings, or even\nbecause they did not or did themselves believe in the truth of their\nsubject-matter, but because they did not paint _in order to make\nconverts_, an extraordinary lapse of judgment.]\n\n[Footnote 102: _Im besten Sinne des Wortes._]\n\n[Footnote 103: Professor Bosanquet points out in a note on this\npassage (p. 101) that _Sittlichkeit_ here, which he translates, as I\nhave done, \"respectability,\" is the _habit_ of virtue, without the\nreflective aspiration after goodness as an ideal. Of course there is\nno depreciation in the use of the term. It is simply the morality of\nordinary people, who do generally what their neighbours think the right\nthing. The word _moralit\u00e4t_ and _moralisch_, which I have only been\nable to translate by a paraphrase, is the morality of the standpoint\ndiscussed, which is very much that of Kant or \"Duty for duty's sake\" in\nBradley's \"Ethical Studies.\"]\n\n[Footnote 104: That is the contingency of the world of Nature as\ncontrasted with the essential stability of mind or spirit.]\n\n[Footnote 105: Lit., \"To satisfy itself in its _real_ or independent\nself (_f\u00fcr sich_).\" It cannot identify itself with either side as its\nwholly real self made therein explicit. It is neither fish nor fowl.]\n\n[Footnote 106: _Bestimm\u00fcngen_ may here be a reference to man's broadest\nspiritual characterizations as one of the human family, the race, the\nnation, and so forth, or, as I think, a reference to his vocation,\nfuture destiny, general welfare.]\n\n[Footnote 107: _An und f\u00fcr sich Wahre._]\n\n[Footnote 108: _Unbefangenen_, _i.e._, the na\u00efve outlook of ordinary\nlife.]\n\n[Footnote 109: Professor Bosanquet merely translates _are not_ and\n_are_ in italic as in the text, which of course, except that he adds\na comma after _are_, is a literal translation. But the sense, as I\nunderstand it, is that the writer says it is not in the sense that\nthese two contradictories do not exist _at all_ (_i.e._, as relative\nreality), but rather in the sense that in _philosophical thought_\nwhich grasps their essence they are not only present but present as\nreconciled factors of one truth. Professor Bosanquet's translation\nappears to me to amount to this: that all Hegel maintains is that\nthe sense he means is not that such contradictory elements are _not_\nreconciled, but in the sense that they _are_ reconciled. Perhaps this\nis his view. But if so, I fail to see the importance of the antithesis,\nwhich appears to me between _gar nicht sind_ and _in Vers\u00f6hnung sind._\nHegel before had expressly said that such contradictory sides were\nreconciled in philosophy, so I do not see why he should so emphatically\nrepeat himself. The comma, of course, may be a misprint.]\n\n[Footnote 110: _Begriff._ Notion, or concrete Idea of it.]\n\n[Footnote 111: Of that world in its opposition to reason.]\n\n[Footnote 112: _Der Mensch als er geht und steht._ The man in ordinary\nconditions\u2014-the _average_ man, however, rather than the _natural_ man,\nwhich carries slightly different associations.]\n\n[Footnote 113: The difference between a material instrument, which is\na mere means to an end conceived by the craftsman, such as a plough\nfor ploughing, a rake for raking, and a purpose inseparable from the\norganic whole as a mouth for eating, for without life the organism\ncollapses.]\n\n[Footnote 114: _F\u00fcr sich._]\n\n[Footnote 115: In his history of Aesthetic in Germany L\u00f6tze disputes\nthis. It seems to some extent a question of definition. In Hegel's view\na dead body is not a human body in the full sense, but the _corpse_ of\na man. A hand separated from the body, whether we call it a hand or\nnot, is no longer, whatever it may be, a living member, its essential\nsignificance as a hand has disappeared. It was only a hand in its\ncoherence as part of a larger whole. It may still for a time preserve\nthe semblance of its life, but it is cut off as the withered leaf.\nThese are facts at least that are undeniable, and the objection appears\nto me based on a misunderstanding. A hand is only _an und f\u00fcr sich_\nhuman when it is part of a living man. What is the organic reality in\nthe complete sense is the man as a _whole._ The hand is merely the\nextremity of one of his arms. You may call a dead hand a hand if you\nlike. The point is what was implied in the fact that you called it a\nhand at all whether alive or dead.]\n\n[Footnote 116: That is, by Kant, of course.]\n\n[Footnote 117: By _Verwicklung_ I understand the general evolution of\nideal philosophy which the defects of the Kantian Critique stimulated.\nProfessor Bosanquet apparently limits it to a perplexity personal to\nSchiller. I doubt whether the word will bear this.]\n\n[Footnote 118: That is, the concrete idea of humanity as a collective\naggregate.]\n\n[Footnote 119: That is, intelligence as asserted by a society of human\nbeings as public opinion, etc.]\n\n[Footnote 120: _Die Ineinsbildung._]\n\n[Footnote 121: \"Grace and Dignity.\"]\n\n[Footnote 122: _Gesinnungen._ \"Sentimental views\" is probably what is\nimplied.]\n\n[Footnote 123: _Alle Sache._]\n\n[Footnote 124: Professor Bosanquet is clearly right in his view that\nthe order of the words here should be reversed. The words _an und f\u00fcr\nsich_ are obviously the wider explication of _in sick selbst_, the\nauxiliary, as not unfrequently in Hegel, being almost equivalent to\n_n\u00e4mlich._ Whether a misprint or an oversight I have translated subject\nto this correction.]\n\n[Footnote 125: I presume the revelation is not merely that of visible\nshape or even mainly.]\n\n[Footnote 126: _Das alles aus sich setzende und aufl\u00f6sende Ich._ The\nthree points emphasized by Hegel in Fichte's \"Philosophy\" are: (_a_)\nThe Ego is abstract; (_b_) Everything is a _show_ for it; (_c_) Its own\nacts are a semblance.]\n\n[Footnote 127: Hegel uses the word _Eitelkeit_ and _eitle_ in their\ndouble sense of empty-nothingness--futility and vain or conceited. This\ncannot be readily reproduced in English.]\n\n[Footnote 128: _Sch\u00f6nseligkeit._ Borrowed no doubt from Goethe's notion\nof a \"fair soul.\"]\n\n[Footnote 129: Like the \"vaulting ambition\" of Shakespeare which falls\non the other side, is _\u00fcber sich selbst._]\n\n[Footnote 130: _Haltung._ Professor Bosanquet translates this\n\"conduct.\" I rather think it refers to \"bearing, demeanour.\" They are,\nas we say, \"featureless, flaccid figures.\"]\n\n[Footnote 131: _L\u00e4ppische._ I am not quite sure what is exactly\nmeant. Professor Bosanquet translates it \"grotesque.\" But the word\nis a provincial form of _Schlaff_ apparently--loose, flaccid and so\nchildish, trifling.]\n\n[Footnote 132: _Moment._ A phase in an evolutionary, or, as it is here,\na dialectical process. A momentary feature of it.]\n\n[Footnote 133: This final section is called the Division of the\nSubject.]\n\n[Footnote 134: _Subjektivit\u00e4t._ That is, the ideality of consciousness,\nor thought.]\n\n[Footnote 135: Professor Bosanquet, in his note on this passage,\nexpresses the opinion that Hegel when he writes thus is referring \"To\nthe self-consciousness of individual human beings as constituting,\nand reflecting on, an ideal unity between them.\" This no doubt, as he\nsuggests, does put a somewhat unnatural meaning on the word \"person\"\nor \"subjekt.\" No doubt there is a sense in which we can ascribe\npersonality to a state, or nation, in the concrete unity of its life.\nBut while admitting that unity such as this, which is not sensuous but\nideal, can be \"effective and actual,\" I find it difficult to conclude\nthat Hegel did himself hold that the unity of the Divine Being was\n_merely_ identical with the unity or totality of concrete human life\nas reflected upon by single individuals. How far is human life as a\nwhole on this Earth a unity or totality at all? That question has\nbeen discussed by Professor Bradley and others with very different\nconclusions. Nay, how far does human existence itself exhaust the\nactually present realization or self-realization of self-conscious\nSpirit or Intelligence? Whatever maybe the wisest answer to such and\nother questions I can hardly think that Hegel would have accepted\nProfessor Bosanquet's interpretation as completely adequate.]\n\n[Footnote 136: _Fackeldistel_. \"Torch thistle,\" a plant of the genus\nCereus.]\n\n[Footnote 137: Or, \"as mind and in mind.\"]\n\n[Footnote 138: That is to say, presents to itself to conscious grasp of\nitself as such Art-spirit (_als k\u00fcnstlerischer._)]\n\n[Footnote 139: The two evolutions here alluded to are (i) that of a\nparticular way of regarding Nature, man, and God in a particular age\nand nation such as the Egyptian, Greek, and Christian viewed in express\nrelation to art; (ii) The several arts--sculpture, music, poetry,\netc., each on their own foundation and viewed relatively to the former\nevolution.]\n\n[Footnote 140: The point, of course, is that the different media of the\nseveral arts are inherently, and in virtue of the fact that we have\nnot here _mere_ matter as opposed to that which is intellectual rather\nthan sensuous, but matter in which the notional concept is already\nessentially present or pregnant (sound is, for instance, more ideal\nthan the spatial matter of architecture), adapted to the particular\narts in which they serve as the medium of expression.]\n\n[Footnote 141: Professor Bosanquet explains these \"plastic forms\"\n(_Gestaltungs formen_) as the various modifications of the\nsubject-matter of art (Trans., p. 140 note). I am not quite sure of\nthe meaning here intended. It would apparently identify the term with\nthe _Gebilde_ referred to in the third division. I should myself\nrather incline to think that Hegel had mainly in his mind the specific\ngeneral types, that is, the three relations of the Idea itself to its\nexternal configuration, viewed as a historical evolution, which Hegel\ncalls symbolic, classical, and romantic. Perhaps this is what Professor\nBosanquet means. But in that case it does not appear to me so much the\nsubject-matter as the generic forms in the shaping of that matter.]\n\n[Footnote 142: _Das wahrhaft Innere._ That is, the inward of the truth\nof conscious life.]\n\n[Footnote 143: Means apparently the notion in its absolute sense.]\n\n[Footnote 144: Because it represents spirit as independent of an\nappropriate bodily form.]\n\n[Footnote 145: What appears to be denoted by _Geistigkeit_ is the\ngeneric term of intelligence--that activity of conscious life which\ndoes not necessarily make us think of a single individual--the common\nnature of all spirit.]\n\n[Footnote 146: By _Innerlichkeit_, which might also be rendered as pure\nideality, what is signified is that in a mental state there are no\nparts outside of each other.]\n\n[Footnote 147: _Subjekt_, _i.e._, the individual Ego of\nself-consciousness.]\n\n[Footnote 148: _Das subjective Innere,_ lit., the subjective inner\nstate.]\n\n[Footnote 149: _Geistigkeit._ Professor Bosanquet translates it here\n\"intellectual being.\"]\n\n[Footnote 150: The distinction between a percipient and an external\nobject falls away. The content displayed is part of the soul-life\nitself.]\n\n[Footnote 151: Professor Bosanquet apparently assumes a negative has\nslipped out. But the text probably is correct in the rather awkward\nform in which it stands.]\n\n[Footnote 152: Thus poetry is primarily a romantic art, but in the Epic\nit is affiliated with the objective character of classical art, or we\nmay say that there is a romantic and classical type of architecture,\nthough the art is primarily symbolic.]\n\n[Footnote 153: _Gestalt._ Plastic power is perhaps a better\ntranslation.]\n\n[Footnote 154: He means that in architecture the building is merely a\nshrine or environment of the image of the god.]\n\n[Footnote 155: Infinite, of course, in the concrete sense of rounded in\nitself, as the circle, or, still more, the living organism.]\n\n[Footnote 156: Lit., \"which is not also that of the spiritual sphere.\"]\n\n[Footnote 157: That is, an object limited only in space.]\n\n[Footnote 158: _Subjektivit\u00e4t._ The particularization in romantic art\nimplies the presence of an ideal element imported by the soul of the\nartist, which appeals directly to the soul in its emotional life.\nCompare a picture by an Italian master with a Greek statue.]\n\n[Footnote 159: Lit., \"A multiplicity of isolated examples of\ninwardness.\"]\n\n[Footnote 160: That is, in the life shared by all as one community\nactuated by a common purpose.]\n\n[Footnote 161: As in sculpture.]\n\n[Footnote 162: Professor Bosanquet's note is here (Trans., p. 166)\n\"Posited or laid down to be ideal. This almost is equal to made _to be_\nin the sense of _not being._ In other words musical sound is \"ideal\"\nas existing, _qu\u00e2_ work of art, in memory only, the moment in which it\nis actually heard being fugitive. A picture is equally so in respect\nof the third dimension, which has to be read into it. Poetry is almost\nwholly ideal, uses hardly any sensuous element, and appeals almost\nwholly to what exists in the _mind._\"]\n\n[Footnote 163: By particularization is meant the variety in the\nmaterial of colours, musical tones, and ideas, which latter are really\nquite as much the medium of poetry as written language. The _sensuous_\nmedium is here an abstract sign and, as Hegel would contend, nothing\nmore than this.]\n\n[Footnote 164: Reference, of course, to Hegel's unfortunate acceptance\nof Goethe's theory of colour.]\n\n[Footnote 165: The colour of art is not merely ideal as applied to\nonly two dimensions of space, but also is \"subjective\" in the artistic\ntreatment of it under a definite \"scheme.\" It is not clear whether\nHegel alludes also to this; apparently not, though it is the most\nimportant feature. In fact, even assuming his theory of light to be\ncorrect, it is difficult entirely to follow his distinction between the\nappearance of colour on a flat or a round surface. As _natural_ colour\nthe one would be as ideal as the other. Only regarded as a composition\nwould painting present distinction.]\n\n[Footnote 166: It is obvious that the reference here is mainly to\nan intentional appeal to the human soul through the content of the\ncomposition. But the appeal may also be made through the technique and\nartistic treatment of the medium itself.]\n\n[Footnote 167: The parts of a chord are not in space, but are ideally\ncognized. Hegel describes this by saying that music idealizes space and\nconcentrates it to a point. It would perhaps be more intelligible to\nsay that it transmutes the positive effects of a material substance in\nmotion into the positive and more ideal condition of time. The point\nwhich is continually negated is at least _qu\u00e2_ music the point, or\nrather, moment, of a temporal process.]\n\n[Footnote 168: By the indifferent externality of space is signified the\nfact that the parts of space, though external to each other, are not\nqualitatively distinguishable.]\n\n[Footnote 169: Succession in time is \"more ideal\" than coexistence in\nspace because it exists only as continuity in a conscious subject.]\n\n[Footnote 170: Painting no doubt introduces ideal elements into the\nartistic composition of colour, but the colour still remains the\nappearance of a material thing or superficies.]\n\n[Footnote 171: That is to say, music or harmony is based on a solid\nconformity to law on the part of its tones in their conjunction and\nsuccession, their structure and resolution.]\n\n[Footnote 172: As in painting.]\n\n[Footnote 173: The views here propounded suggest considerable\ncriticism. It appears to me that the stress here laid upon the\nintelligible content of poetry as contrasted with the sensuous\nqualities of its form as modulated speech is certainly untenable.\nWhat we call the music of verse may unquestionably be most intimately\nassociated with the ideal content expressed; but apart from the\nartistic collocation of language as sound no less than symbol we\ncertainly do not get the art of poetry. Even where Hegel deals directly\nwith rhythm and rhyme in the body of the treatise I think it is clear\nhe underrates all that is implied in the difference between the musical\nexpression of poetry as contrasted even with the sonorous language of\nmere prose. A further question upon which more doubt is permissible is\nhow far the actual script in written or printed letters is not entitled\nto be regarded as at least in part the sensuous medium. No doubt the\npoem is not dependent upon it as a painting is upon colour, or the\ncanvas which supports it, for it may be recited. But at least it is\npractically dependent upon it for its preservation. The point may very\npossibly appear, however, as nugatory or entirely unimportant, beside\nthe question whether the medium of the art is not really imaginative\nidea rather than articulate speech.]\n\n[Footnote 174: _Absolute Formen._ Adequate in the sense of being\nunconditionally so.]\n\n\n\n\nFIRST PART\n\nTHE IDEA OF FINE ART, OR THE IDEAL\n\n\n\nTHE POSITION OF ART RELATIVELY TO FINITE REALITY, RELIGION, AND\nPHILOSOPHY\n\n\nThe conclusion of the introduction brings within sight the more\nmethodical exposition of our subject. It will in the first place be\nuseful as a point of departure for a true philosophy of the beautiful\nto sum up shortly the position of Fine Art in its general relation\nto the Real, no less than to emphasize the salient features which\ndistinguish the philosophy of Fine Art from other philosophical\ninquiries.\n\n(_a_) With this object in view we will first enumerate the diverse\nattempts which have been made to apprehend the beautiful in thought,\nplacing each in the order which will best assist a critical verdict.\nWe have already contributed something to this in our introduction.\nAnd, moreover, we may add that the mere inquiry what others have\ncontributed either rightly or wrongly to our subject, at least with\nthe hope of ascertaining something really instructive to an exposition\nwhich claims to be wholly scientific, will not assist us much. So far\nfrom this being so we must preface our remarks with the admission that,\nin the opinion of many, the beautiful, for the very reason that it\nis the beautiful, does not admit of such intellectual apprehension,\nis, in short, no object intelligible to human thought. To such a\nthesis we must for the present--in our response to those who at this\ntime of day contend that all Truth is ultimately incomprehensible,\nand only the finiteness of the phenomenal and the contingent matters\nof temporal existence is within our mental grasp--reply that it is\nprecisely Truth, and Truth alone, which is to be thus _comprehended_,\nand for this reason that it possesses the absolute _notion_, or, more\nsuccinctly, the Idea for its basic support. Now beauty is no other\nthan a particular determination under which the True is expressed\nand revealed to us; and it lies open to the fullest comprehension of\nthought in so far as such can equip it with the armoury of the concrete\nnotion. It is quite true that no idea has suffered more severely in\nour own time from misconceptions than this which we call the notion\nin its fullest explication. One is only too often misunderstood to\nmean a determination which is abstract and one sided, or at least a\nconception of the analytical understanding. As thus understood neither\nthe totality of Truth nor the idea of beauty as a concrete whole can be\nbrought home to a thinking consciousness. But the idea of beauty, as we\nhave already observed, and shall seek to make more intelligible as we\nproceed, is no such abstraction of the mind: rather it may be defined\nas the absolute notion in its self-evolved concreteness, or still more\nspecifically defined, the absolute Idea.\n\n(_b_) And, further, we cannot more succinctly define the _absolute\nIdea_, in the above use of the expression, than by saying it is\nmind (Spirit): and we may add that the mind thus referred to is not\nmind regarded as finite, that is, subject to the conditions and\nlimitations of sense-perception, but the universal and _absolute_\nIntelligence[175], which, out of its own free activity, determines\nTruth in the profoundest signification of the term. To the ordinary\nconsciousness of everyday life the object of perception, no doubt,\nbreaks away from mind, as though our thought stood in opposition\nto Nature, which receives from us a validity equal at least to the\nconsciousness which perceives it. But in this way of looking at Nature\nand the conscious subject as two neighbours set over against one\nanother in territories equally self-subsistent it is only the finite\nand limited mind, not that which it is as an infinite substance and\nin its notional truth, which is apprehended. Nature is not thus to\nbe set over against absolute Mind, either as conjoint with a sphere\nof the Real of equal worth, or as an independent boundary thereto.\nRather the aspect which Nature appears to hold in this respect is\nthat which mind or spirit itself sets up, and of which it becomes\nthe product as a Nature in which limit and boundary are themselves\ndetermining constituents. In fact, Mind in its absolute or infinite\nsubstance can only be apprehended as this free activity, which is\nmanifested in self-development through differentiation. This object,\nthis _other_, through which such differentiation proceeds, is regarded\nin such opposition as Nature, but as the object of intelligence it is\nquite as much indebted to Mind for the free gift and fulness of its\nown essential substance. We must therefore conceive Nature as herself\ncontaining in potency the absolute Idea. She is that Idea in _apparent\nshape_, which mind, in its synthetic power, posits as the object\nopposed to itself. She is so far a product, a creation. The truth\nof Nature therefore is simply the determination by mind of its own\nsubstance, its ideality and power of determination, through a process\nwhich no doubt begins with a separation of itself into two factors\nwhich apparently negate each other, but which, by the very activity\nof such negation and separation, passes beyond the contradiction\nit implies to a unity which heals the fracture. Instead of finding\nour-elves opposed to a limit and a barrier we have a totality in which\nthe parts which opposed each other are fused together by the free\nuniversality of mind. This ideality, in other words this infinite\npower of determination[176], is that which constitutes the profound\nnotion of Mind's _subjectivity._ As subjectivity mind is, in the first\ninstance, merely Nature, Mind, or Spirit that is _not explicitly_\nunfolded, mind which has not arrived at the grasp of its true notion.\nNature is here set up in opposition to Mind, not as an object which\nitself has created, but as one whose limits it fails to overcome,\nan object, moreover, which, as assumed to be already subsisting in\nindependence, Mind remains alongside of in the internal seclusion of\nknowledge and volition, and is only able to constitute the other side\nof Nature. The finiteness of scientific theory, no less than that of\npractical life, is to be, found in this limited mode of consciousness,\nwhere intelligence is restricted to the use of finite categories and\nthe formal \"ought\" in the realization of ethical perfection[177]. We\nfind here, as we have pointed out was the case with Nature, that\nthe phenomenal is not adequate to the essential truth of that which\nappears; what we receive is still the confusing medley of abilities,\npassions, intentions, opinions, and talents, which no sooner make\nthemselves felt than they are displaced, working at cross purposes\nas often against as on the side of each other, in a strife between\nvolition, opinion, and reflection, which brings to the surface every\nphase of fortuitous experience in all its confusing variety. It is\nthe standpoint of the entirely finite, temporal, contradictory, and\nfor that reason transitory, unsatisfied, and unreconciled spirit. For\nthe satisfactions which obtain in such a consciousness, through the\nfiniteness which inseparably clings to its entire outlook, itself so\nlimited and confused, are of a purely relative and isolated validity.\nIt is inevitable that consciousness, volition, and thought should make\nan effort to rise above this condition and seek for the universality,\nunity, and satisfaction which it eventually finds in the infinite\nsubstance of Spirit and its Truth. This unity and satisfaction, to\nwhich mind is carried forward by the impulse of its own ideal activity,\ntransmuting the raw material of its finite conditions, constitutes the\nfirst revelation of that which the world of appearances is under a\nmore notional grasp of it. Mind grasps its finiteness as the negation\nof its own essential substance, and is aware of its infinity. And this\nessential truth of the finite mind is the absolute Mind or Spirit. In\nthis form of self-consciousness mind is merely actualized as absolute\nnegativity. The element of finitude which it confronts is apprehended\nas such and annulled. In this, the highest sphere of its activity,\nmind becomes the object of volition. The Absolute itself becomes the\n_object_ of mind. Spirit, as self-consciousness, differentiates itself\nas the _knowing subject_ from the absolute Spirit as the _object_\nof knowledge. Mind in this latter sense, in contradistinction from\nmind which has not overcome the conditions of finite perception, may\ntherefore be defined as a finite mind in possession of the principle\nof differentiation from its true object. In the higher and more\nspeculative consideration of truth, however, it is the _absolute\nmind itself_, which, in order to unfold explicitly the knowledge of\nitself, essentially becomes a principle of differentiation to itself,\nand thereby posits the finitude of mind, within which it becomes for\nitself absolute object of the knowledge of itself. It is now absolute\nmind within the ideal community[178] which belongs to it, the actual\nAbsolute of itself in the form of Mind and knowledge[179].\n\nThis is, in fact, the starting-point of the Philosophy of Fine Art.\nFor the idea of Fine Art is neither the _logical Idea_, absolute\nThought, that is, which develops itself in the medium of its freest\nactivity, nor is it the Idea of _Nature_ apprehended under more finite\ncategories. Its province is rather that of Mind untrammelled by either\nthe judgments or the actions of the _finite_ spirit.\n\n(_c_) The realm of Fine Art is the realm of _absolute Spirit._ We can\nbut briefly indicate the reason why this is so. A fully philosophical\nproof belongs rather to treatises which immediately deal with those\nquestions of philosophy we have noticed already, by which we mean those\nwhich treat of Logic, whose content, as above explained, is that of the\nabsolute Idea, or the philosophy of Nature, or lastly, the philosophy\nof Mind in its determinate spheres of finitude. For in these sciences\nthe object is to show not merely how the logical Idea presupposes the\nobjective particularity of Nature as a vehicle to its determinate\nexistence, but also how it is capable of passing from such externality\nto mind, and, finally, of freeing itself from all the finitude that\nclings to it and of attaining to Spirit in its eternal concreteness and\ntruth.\n\nFrom such a point of view, which is also applicable to art when\nregarded in all the fulness of worth it in truth implies, we are\njustified in associating it with the self-same province which belongs\nto religion and speculative philosophy. In every direction in which\nMind or Spirit becomes identical with the absolute Mind it frees itself\nfrom the restricting limits of its positive existence, and, while\nliberating itself from the contingent relations, which pertain to it\nin its temporal existence, and the finite content of its objects and\ninterests, is made aware of and discloses the entire wealth of reality\nit contains.\n\nIt may be of service here to expand more completely the position which\nArt thus occupies in its relation respectively to the life of Nature\nand Spirit.\n\nA survey of the entire field of human existence presents to the\nordinary consciousness of mankind the widest variety of interests and\nmeans of satisfaction. There is, in the first instance, the complex\nsystem of purely physical necessities, to the satisfaction of which the\nwhole economy of industrial enterprise, through all its complicated\ntissue of commerce, merchandize, and technical crafts, is actively\npursued. If we raise the level of our review to a more spiritual range,\nwe are confronted with the world where rights are established and\nenforced, the world of legislative enactment, family life, division of\nsocial classes, in a word, the concrete living organism of the State.\nAnd more than this, there is the religious want, which asserts itself\nin the hearts of particular men and women, and finds its satisfaction\nin the life of a church. Finally, there is the many-sided and\nintricately specialized activity of scientific research, the organized\neffort to integrate all knowledge, and the comprehension which that\nknowledge implies, in one all-embracing system. Within this latter\nare comprised the activities of the fine arts, the interest, that is\nto say, in beauty, and which derives its spiritual nutriment in the\nrealization of that beauty in plastic shapes.\n\n(_d_) The question becomes inevitable how far a spiritual want of this\nkind is bound up as a necessary element in the life of man and his\nworld-history. In the first instance these two spheres[180] appear\nsimply as immediate factors of our entire survey. It is, however, the\nrequirement of philosophy to probe more deeply into that which binds\nthem as essential and necessarily interacting constituents of one\norganic whole. For on closer inspection it will be found that they do\nnot stand in relation to one another on the mere basis of utility;\nrather we shall discover that only through the one we shall fully\ncomprehend the other. In other words, the one circle overlaps the\nother, in the sense that the higher forms of its activity are found\nto be a part of the other; and that which is of less value in its own\nprovince is lifted into a finer atmosphere; and what had failed to free\nitself from its original bounds is now enlarged to liberty through the\nprofounder satisfaction it receives in the widening of the range of its\ninterests[181]. And it is this which makes clear the necessity of the\nideal bond.\n\nWe will recall now for a moment the analysis we established of the\nnotion of the beautiful and that of art generally. Two opposed aspects\ncome under notice. In the first place we have a content, an end, a\nsignificance; and in addition to that we get the artistic expression\nof the same, the appearance and realization of such content; and,\nthirdly, these two aspects of the artistic product so pass into each\nother that the rationality or particularity is nothing short of the\nexpression of the artistic purpose, nothing more or less is given us\nthan the essential expression of the entire content. What we designate\nas content, \"significance,\" is just this simplicity of idea, the work\nof art resolved into its simplest yet most comprehensive determinants,\nas it exists for mind in contrast with the actual work executed. As\nan example we may summarize the content of a book from a few words or\nsentences the book contains, and nothing may be necessary to expound\nthe content of that book sufficiently in its general import. This\nsimple idea, the thesis or main problem of our book, which forms the\nfundamental basis on which the entire structure is built, is the\nabstract significance. It is only the detailed exposition which gives\nus the concrete totality.\n\nBoth sides, however, of this opposition do not stand in an indifferent\nor purely external relation one to the other, as, for instance,\nis the case when we contrast with it the particular content of an\nabstract mathematical figure, such as a triangle or an ellipse, to\nwhich the external particularity of its size or figure is related\nwithout affecting its significance. Rather in the former case we shall\nfind that the content of its form, taken in abstraction in itself,\npossesses a determinate impulse in the direction of realization and\nthereby concreteness. There is in it essentially the \"_should_\" of\npurpose. However strongly form is here posited in independence, we are\nunable to rest satisfied with such abstraction, and ask for something\nmore. This is at first apprehended merely as an unsatisfied want, a\ndesire in the conscious subject, which strives to annul itself and\nsecure satisfaction. From such a standpoint all we can say is that the\ncontent is purely self-contained, or _subjective_, over against which\nthe objective other-than-itself is placed in opposition in such a way\nas to emphasize the desire to make the subjective content _objective._\nSuch a conflict between the subjective content and the objective,\nreality which confronts it, no less than the mere impulse to transcend\nthe opposition, is a universal characteristic of the determination of\nall self-conscious life[182]. Even that aspect of human life which we\ncall physical, and still more that world of man's spiritual aims and\ninterests depends on this necessity to carry forward that which is at\nfirst purely subjective and ideal into the objective world, that a\nfuller satisfaction in its essential substance may be realized. But\nso long as the content of aims and interests is merely and at first\napprehended in the one-sided form of subjective consciousness, and\nthat one-sidedness is apprehended as a mere limit, this loss makes\nitself simply felt as unrest or pain. It is a negative something\nwhich is bound to resolve itself as such negativity, and, in order to\nremove the sense of defect, exerts an impulse to transcend the barrier\nitself, already an object of consciousness and thought. And, moreover,\nthis transcendency does not merely amount to this, that the objective\n\"other\" ceases to be an opposed factor to the general subjective\nconsciousness: rather in the more determinate connection, this defect\nof _subjective_ thought is itself and _within_ itself a defect and\n_negation_ which involves an impulse to negate and pass beyond. In\nother words the conscious subject is implicitly and according to its\nessential notion the _complete whole_[183], that is, not merely what\nis inward, but the realization no less of that which is inward or\nideal in and through what is without. If we assume that it exists only\nabstractly in one form we have to face the contradiction that whereas\nit is, according to its concrete notion the whole, yet according to its\nmode of existence it remains merely one side of that totality. It is\nonly through the entire resolution of such a contradiction that life\nbecomes affirmative. To pass through each phase of this opposition,\ncontradiction and its final abrogation is the higher and legitimate\ndemand of conscious life. That which remains always affirmative, is,\nand remains, without life. Life is built upon negation and pain. It\nis only by crushing out such contradictions in the crucible of fuller\nlife and knowledge that it remains in its affirmative substance. If it\nanchor wholly on contradiction without such a possibility of resolution\nit must be infallibly wrecked thereon.\n\nSuch, then, is the nature of these determinations of thought regarded\nin their abstraction to which it was necessary to draw attention at the\npresent stage.\n\nThe most exalted content which lies within the grasp of self-conscious\nlife may be concisely called _freedom._ Freedom is the highest\ndetermination of Spirit. In its formal aspect freedom, in its first\ninstance, consists in this, that the subject thereof ceases to find a\nlimit or barrier in the material which is set over against it; this\nis no longer an element foreign to it, but one in which it finds\nitself again. Even under this formal definition of it all necessity\nand misfortune disappears; the individual consciousness is reconciled\nwith the world, finds satisfaction in such reconciliation, and all\nopposition and contradiction is thereby dissolved.\n\nBut over and above this, on closer inspection, we find that it is\nuniversally the rational--that is to say ethical relations in practical\nlife, truth in thought--which constitutes the content of freedom. But,\nfurthermore, inasmuch as freedom itself is in the first instance only\nsubjective, not wholly carried into effect, there must remain for\nthe individual an element of unfreedom, a somewhat purely objective\nopposed to it as a necessity of Nature; and it is accompanied likewise\nwith the demand to secure a reconciliation of this opposition. From\nthe reverse point of view a similar contradiction is apparent in the\ninternal domain of the subjective consciousness itself. We have, on\nthe one hand, that which is universal and self-subsistent in its own\nright, in other words the universal dictates or principles of justice,\ngoodness, and truth. On the other there are the various impulses of\nmankind, all the emotions, preferences, and passions which exercise\ntheir power over the heart of each man and woman individually. This\nopposition no less than the other excites conflict and contradiction,\nand in this strife man becomes subject to every conceivable longing,\nthe profoundest grief, and, in a word, to every kind of worry and\ndiscontent. It is the prerogative of the spiritual life of mankind\nto be a veil severed and broken asunder, tossed as it must be on the\nwaves of contradiction. The animal creation lives at peace with itself\nand its environment. Man is unable to find a complete refuge in that\nwhich is exclusively inward, the soul as such, pure thought, in the\nworld of legal obligation and its _universality._ He is dependent also\nupon his sensuous existence, his emotions, and all that appeals to his\nheart and soul. It is the part of philosophy to give expression to this\ncontradiction in thought, as it extends throughout its all-embracing\ncompass, and to overcome the same with a reconciliation equally\ncomprehensive.\n\nIn the immediacy of everyday life, however, man seeks to secure an\n_immediate_ satisfaction. Perhaps the most obvious example of such\na resolution is to be found in the domain of animal wants and their\nsatisfaction.\n\nThe states of hunger, thirst, fatigue on the one hand, and feeding,\ndrinking, sleep on the other, with all such similar states, illustrate\nthe contradictions and resolutions to which we here refer.\n\nIn this sphere of human existence, which is fundamentally the same as\npurely animal life, the content of such satisfaction is, however, of a\nfinite and limited range. Such satiety carries with it no permanence,\nbut moves forward without rest to a renewed sense of want. Men eat,\ndrink, and sleep, and on the morrow are as hungry and weary as before.\nMan is compelled, therefore, to strive for a freedom more lasting in\nthat element of the spiritual life which he appropriates in knowledge\nand volition, the sciences and his social activities. The ignorant\nman is unfree because he faces a world which is foreign to himself, a\nworld which tosses hither and thither aimlessly, to which he is joined\nas an appendage, unable to unite that foreign world to itself, and to\nfeel itself at home there as in its own demesne. The merest impulse of\ncuriosity, the awakening of the love of knowledge, the lowest phase\nof animate unrest, and the highest grasp of philosophical insight are\nultimately derived from the same source, namely, the desire to overcome\nevery condition that is unfavourable to freedom, and to bring the\nworld of everyday life, and that of the subject which reflects upon\nit, into one harmonious unity. If we consider the world of _action_\nthe result is the same; freedom in human action is the attempt to\nmake positive or real the reason of the Will. Reason is realized by\nvoluntary action through the life of the State. In a State that is\ndifferentiated through itself on any rational principle, all the laws\nand social institutions which belong to it are simply a realization of\nfreedom according to their own essential determinants. This being so,\nthe reason that belongs to any citizen discovers in such institutions\nits own essential life: and, so long as such is not in revolt from\nthose laws, proceeds with them as with its own kith and kin rather than\na foreign adversary. We not infrequently find licence identified with\nfreedom. But the freedom of licence is irrational; it depends upon a\nchoice and self-determination which has nothing to do with a rational\nwill, but is rather the product of accidental impulses and their\ndependence on the world of sense and physical Nature.\n\nWe may conclude, then, that the physical needs of man, no less than\nhis knowledge and power of volition, receive in fact, each in its\nown sphere, a satisfaction in the world, and deliberately break up\nthe contradiction between the subjective and objective, that is to\nsay, between the freedom of consciousness and the external necessity\nof things with which it is confronted. The content, however, of\nsuch a freedom and the satisfaction which is therein experienced\nis still subject to _limitations_, and for this reason both still\nretain an element of _finitude._ And wherever we find such an element\nsupervening it is inevitable that the original contradiction should\nagain reassert itself, and the self-satisfaction only maintain a\nrelative significance. For example, in the sphere of jurisprudence and\nits realization in the State it is true enough that the rationality\nof each citizen, his will and his freedom are recognized; he is a\nperson and as such is respected; he is the owner of property, and\nif that property is in danger the courts of law reassert his rights\nin their integrity. This recognition, however, and the freedom it\nestablishes are confined to single relations and isolated objects,\nsuch as a particular house, a sum of money, some particular right\nor law, in fine some particular transaction in the practical world.\nWhat the consciousness has at any one time before it are particular\nthings, which no doubt are related to one another, and in fact form a\nnucleus of such relations; but, on the other hand, they are appropriate\nto categories of purely relative validity, are subject to various\nconditions of tenure, which make the satisfaction only immediately\nexperienced when their predominance is reasserted, or at any rate\nfail to establish any degree of permanence. And further than this\nthe life of the State in its organic entirety, as a related whole of\nmonarch, government, courts of justice, military control, and general\ngrouping of all the various societies which compose it, no less than\nthe obligations and duties which such arrangements presuppose, the\naims and satisfaction to which they are directed, the entire scope of\nits civic and commercial activities already referred to, in one word\nthe complete organism of a nation's life, is indeed in a genuine State\ncomplete in itself, and in a sense rounded off as a real totality. At\nthe same time we must observe that the fundamental _principle_, for\nthe realization of which the State exists, and wherein the individual\nman finds his satisfaction as a citizen, is, despite all the variety\nof that life, all the manifold differentiation of class within itself\nand as related to the world without, still a whole that is _one-sided_\nand in a real sense abstract. It is only the rational freedom of the\n_will_ made explicit in a particular totality. It is, in short, only\nthe national life, and further the life of a _particular_ nation;\na life, moreover, in which freedom is realized in a _particular_\nsphere of existence as individualized reality. And on this account\nit is that we are necessarily conscious, that rights and obligations\nin the mere bounds of civic existence, on the plane, that is to say,\nof merely this world's or temporal existence, do not discover the\nabsolute satisfaction we are seeking. We require as rational beings a\nhigher realization of their objective truth as private individuals,\na fuller sanction of their imperative validity than they themselves,\nin such a sphere, can offer us. What mankind, pressed on all sides\nby the boundaries of his purely terrestrial life, in fact requires\nis that region of more essential reality, in which every opposition\nand contradiction is overcome, and freedom can finally claim to be\nwholly at peace with itself. And this is, of course, nothing other\nthan absolute Truth itself, no merely relative truth. In the Truth,\naccording to its highest notion, all must be brought home to one unity.\nIn it there can be no more opposition between freedom and necessity,\nSpirit and Nature, knowledge and the object of knowledge, law and\nimpulse, between whatever form, in fact, the opposition of these\ncontradictory phenomena of human experience may assume.\n\nIt is in virtue of such truth that proof is possible that neither\na freedom which is essentially subjective and disparate from every\nelement of necessity is true in the absolute sense; nor, on the other\nhand, is it admissible to predicate truth of a necessity conceived in\nabsolute isolation from consciousness. Our ordinary conscious life\nfails to overcome this contradiction, and either plunges desperately\ninto the same, or thrusts it on one side and makes its escape from it\nin some other way. Philosophy will, however, so address itself to the\ntwo determinating factors of the contradiction as to show that they are\napprehended as isolate from each other in abstraction, not according\nto their concrete notion; and by the grasp of this latter it will\ndemonstrate the one-sidedness in its relative character, placing these\nopposing aspects in the fuller union and harmony which is truth. It is\nthe function of philosophy to grasp and formulate this notion of truth.\nUnquestionably philosophy recognizes the concrete notion throughout;\nand it is in virtue of this that it is Thought with full grasp of\ntruth. But what we call the notion is something other than this,\ntruth, that is, in its essential verity together with the existence\nwhich is either adequate to it or is not so. In all finite reality the\ndeterminations, which are essential to ideal truth, appear separable\nfrom each other, dividing the veil of that which in its absolute Truth\nis a complete totality. Take the case of a living being. Under such\nfinite categories we are forced to regard it as a subject in opposition\nto the inorganic Nature which environs it. Both the points of view are\nno doubt present in the notion, but they are there reconciled. Finite\nexistence, however, thrusts them apart. It is, in short, an existence\nor reality which is unequal to the unity of the notion. We may\ntherefore say that the notion is valid in every sphere of actuality. At\nthe same time the main point to be determined is whether the notion in\nits ideal concreteness is actually completed in the particular unity\npresented, wherein the two aspects posited in opposition persist in\nno ultimate self-subsistence and coherence over against each other,\nbut are rather ideal phases which tend to pass into a higher unity\nwhich cancels such opposition. And the reality of this highest mode\nof union is only reached when we enter the sphere of truth, freedom,\nand the satisfaction which they create. The higher life which belongs\nto this sphere, this supreme enjoyment of truth, which as feeling is\ncalled \"blessedness,\" and as conscious thought \"contemplation,\" we may\ndescribe generically as the life known to religion. For religion is\njust this universal domain[184], in virtue of which the _one_ concrete\ntotality of the World comes to each man in union with himself, as his\nessential substance, while it remains no less for consciousness the\nessential truth of Nature. And it is this profounder truth of the Real\nwhich alone proves itself invincible over all that is merely particular\nand finite, being as it is the one absolute harmony wherein all that is\notherwise discordant and opposed is finally resolved. Now it is through\nits direct concern in the true, regarded as the absolute object of\nconsciousness, that Art belongs to the supreme sphere of Spirit, and\nit is to be placed, in respect to its content, if in a more specific\nsense, on the same basis as religion and philosophy. I connect these\ntwo last for the reason that philosophy has no other object than God.\nIn its substance it is in fact rational theology, and in its service of\nthe truth a continual service of God.\n\n(_e_) Accepting, then, this fundamental similarity of content these\nthree spheres of absolute Spirit only differ in the _forms_ under\nwhich they present their object, that is, the Absolute, to human\nconsciousness. The differences which are perceptible in these modes of\npresentment are due to the notion of the absolute Spirit (Mind) itself.\nSpirit, in its truth, is essential substance brought home to itself. It\nis, therefore, no essence which lies outside and in abstract relation\nto objectivity, but rather is, within the compass of that objectivity,\nthe re-collected presence[185] of the substance of all objects within\nfinite spirit. It is the finite which grasps its own essential\nuniversality, and, in doing so, grasps essential Being in the absolute\nsense. The _first_ mode of this comprehension is an _immediate_ one,\nthat is to say, it is a sensuous cognition, a cognition in the form and\nsemblance of the object of sense-perception, in which the Absolute is\npresented directly to the understanding[186] and feeling. The _second_\nform is that of the _conceptive_ or imaginative consciousness. _Last_\nof all, we have the _free thought_ of absolute Spirit. The form of\n_sensuous perception_ is appropriate to art in the sense that it is art\nwhich presents truth to consciousness in its sensuous semblance; but\nit is a semblance which, under the mode of its appearance, possesses\na higher and profounder meaning and significance, although it is\nnot its function to render the universality of the notion wholly\nintelligible through the medium of sense. It is indeed rather the\n_unity_ to which art attains with that of the particular appearance\nwhich constitutes the essence of the beautiful, the essence of the\nartistic product. This union is perfected in art not _entirely_\nthrough sensuous objectification, but also through the medium of\n_imaginative conception._ This is exceptionally so in the art of\npoetry. At the same time, even in this, the most intellectual or\nideal art, the union between significance and the individual mode of\nits presentation is present with the same, although it is displayed\nto the imaginative consciousness, and every part of its content is\nconceived in its immediacy and visualized for the imagination[187]. And\ngenerally we must accept the fact that art, possessing as it does truth\nor Spirit for its object, is unable to reproduce the same by merely\ncopying particular objects of Nature, such as the sun, moon, earth,\nand stars. Such are, no doubt, objects of sensuous perception; but,\nsimply as such, they are isolated and can offer no reflection of what\nis spiritual. In thus attributing to art this absolute significance\nas a manifestation of Spirit we have expressly set on one side the\nconception of art which finds its content of too various a nature, or\ntoo much occupied with interests foreign to it, to merit such a view.\nAnd at the other extreme religion, no doubt, frequently summons art\nto her service, in order to bring the truths of religion more near\nto the emotion, or to clothe the same in imaginative form. In both\ncases unquestionably art is rendering a service to a province not,\nin strictness, its own. At the same time where art is found in most\nexalted perfection, in that case no doubt it unfolds in plastic guise\nthe mode of exposition most adequate and essentially necessary to the\ncontent of the truth accepted. Among the Greeks, for example, Art was\nthe highest medium under which the community conceived its gods, and\nbecame conscious of truth. For this reason we may justly say that the\npoets and artists of Greece created the gods of their people. In other\nwords, they defined for the imagination of their people the active life\nand energy of the Divine Presence, giving Them the definite content\nof a religion. And this statement must not merely be taken to imply\nthat all Greek artists did was to clothe in imagery or embellish with\nthe beauty of poesy vague conceptions and hearsays which, as general\nreligious maxims or isolated determinations of conscious life, were\nalready present before the era of such poetic creations. The truth of\nthis artistic production is rather to be found in this, that art and\npoetry were the exclusive forms in which these creative artists could\nbring to life and expression the ideas which fermented in themselves.\nIn other phases of that consciousness, where we find the content less\ncompletely represented by the plastic imagery of art, the scope of Art\nas the handmaid of religion is of less importance.\n\nWe have thus indicated what was, at any rate, once the true position of\nArt in its relation to the highest interests of man's spiritual life.\n\nBut inasmuch as art is preceded in Nature and the finite processes of\nlife by a kind of antenatal history, so too there is a history that\nfollows its culmination, which in other terms passes over and beyond\nits purely conceptive or plastic grasp of the Infinite. For art carries\nin the notion that gives it life a limit; and it is from this boundary\nthat the human consciousness passes beyond into forms more adequate\nto its spiritual import. It is this inherent _shortness of the mark_\nthat fixes the subordinate position we are only too ready to assign to\nart in our daily life nowadays. For us European art is no longer the\nhighest means in which the actuality of truth is possessed. Speaking\ngenerally, thought has long ago pronounced a verdict upon art when it\ndefined it as the portrayal of the Divine by concepts which appeal to\nsense-perception. This was the judgment passed on it by the Jews and\nthe followers of Mohammed. Nay, we find it present among the Greeks\nthemselves, as the strong opposition of Plato and Homer and Hesiod to\nthe popular conception of the gods proves clearly. There is a period in\nthe education of every civilized nation, when art becomes a sign-post,\nas it were, to that which stands beyond her border. The evolution of\nChristendom is itself an illustration. The historical features of\nthat religion, the resurrection of Christ, His life and death, have\ndoubtless offered to the art of painting a mighty field on which to\nexercise its imaginative bounty; and the Church has either surrounded\nsuch art with its magnificent protection, or suffered it simply to work\non unheeded. But as the love of knowledge and scientific research, and\nyet more the felt want of a more intimate and personal spirituality\nnecessitated the Reformation, the religious imagination was called away\nfrom the sensuous medium which enwrapped it, and centred once for all\nupon the inward spirituality of emotional life and conscious thought.\nIn this way there grew up, so to speak, that posterior twilight of\nArt's history I referred to, where the want has found a dwelling in\nman to rest satisfied alone with the pure medium of the soul as the\nultimate form of truth. In the earliest beginnings of art we shall\nfind mystery still present, a secret strain and longing which persists\nbecause Art's imaginative powers are unable to envisage to sense the\ncomplete truth of its content. When once, however, the mind of man has\nsucceeded in endowing such content with perfect outward shape in art,\nit is driven inevitably away from this objective realization to its own\nfree spiritual activity as from something repellent to it. A period\nsuch as this is our own. We may, indeed, express the hope that art will\nrise to yet higher grades of technical perfection; but in any case Art\nin its specific form has ceased to meet the highest requirements of\nspiritual life. We may still wonder at the unrivalled excellence of the\nstatues of the gods of Hellas, and imagine that God the Father, Christ,\nand the Virgin Mary have received ideal representation at the hands of\nmore recent painters. But it is of no use. Our knees no longer bow to\nthem.\n\nThe sphere of conscious life nearest to that of art is that of\nreligion. The form which belongs to the religious consciousness is that\nof the _imaginative concept._ The Absolute is here removed from the\nexternality of artistic production, and received in a more spiritual\nway by the imagination, so that the heart and emotions, the inner life\nof the individual that is to say, become its vehicle. This progress in\nspiritual insight from art to religion may be further defined by the\nstatement that art is only one aspect of the religious consciousness.\nIn other words, when a work of art objectifies the truth or mind for\nsense-perfection, and apprehends this form of the Absolute as the one\nappropriate to its vision, religion blends with the same the devotional\nattitude that flows from the inner life confronted with the absolute\nreality as thus presented. Devotion is a type of emotional existence\nwhich is, strictly speaking, outside the province of art. It originates\nin the fact that the individual suffers that object which art has\nrendered visible to sense to penetrate the arcana of his emotional\nlife, and so completely identifies himself with it that this inward\npresence, which the imagination and the inherent might of feeling has\nrendered possible, becomes an essential phase in the manifestation\nof absolute reality. Devotion is this cultus of the community in its\npurest, most intimate, and subjective form; a culture, in which the\nprinciple of objectivity is at the same time consumed and absorbed, and\nthe content thereof is transmuted without such objectivity into the\npossession of heart and soul.\n\nThe _third_ and last form or phase in the evolution of absolute mind\n(spirit) is _philosophy._ In the boundaries of the religious sphere,\nwhere God is apprehended in the first instance perforce as an external\nobject, and men are taught that there is a God, and how He has revealed\nHimself and still is revealed to mankind, the subjective consciousness\nis indeed made the vehicle of such knowledge, and the religious sense\nimparted stirs and fills the heart of the community; but the inwardness\nof devotion which is born of the emotions and the imagination is not\nthe highest form of inwardness. We are bound to recognize that the\npurest form of knowledge is conscious _thought_ in its freest activity.\nIn this alone the content of knowledge is, adequate to the demands\nof that which is consciously apprehended: here alone we are in the\npresence of that most intelligent form of cultus, which seeks wholly\nto appropriate to itself, and to grasp in concrete thought what is\notherwise only the evanescent content of feeling or the imagination.\nIn the purview of such a philosophy art and religion, as two aspects\nof one truth, become related under a unifying conception. On the one\nhand, though philosophy, by its surrender of all sensuous externality,\nhas lost the _objective_ presentation of art, yet it has exchanged\nit for the highest form under which concrete reality is objectively\napprehended and redeemed, in other words, that of _speculative reason._\nIt has, on the other, lost the emotional subjectivity of the religious\nconsciousness in the same pure medium. For while human thought is\nthe most inward and appropriate vehicle of subjective life, such\nthought, in its fullest grasp of truth, the Idea, is actuality in the\nmost objective and universal sense of the term, and is only to be\napprehended by pure thought in the medium native to itself.\n\nWith this adumbration of the difference between the spheres of art,\nreligion, and philosophy we must on the present occasion rest content.\n\nThe sensuous mode of consciousness is that which first appears in\nthe history of mankind. The earliest stages of religion are for this\nreason indistinguishable from a religion of art and its sensuous manner\nof presentation. In the religion of Spirit for the first time is God\nas Spirit cognized also on a higher plane, and one more adequate\nto thought, wherein it likewise follows as a corollary, that the\npresentation of truth in sensuous shape is not truly adequate to Spirit.\n\nNow that we know something of the position which art occupies in the\nfield of spiritual activity, and that which belongs to the philosophy\nof art among the several philosophical sciences, we will proceed in\nthis introductory portion of our work in the first place to investigate\nthe general idea of the beauty of art.\n\n\n\n\nSUBDIVISION OF SUBJECT\n\nIDEA OF THE BEAUTY OF ART, OTHERWISE, FINE ART\n\nTo arrive at the Idea of Fine Art in all its concreteness it will be\nnecessary for us to consider it under three phases.\n\n1. The _first_ is concerned with the _notion_ of the beautiful\ngenerally.\n\n2. The _second_ is that of _natural_ beauty, the defects of which will\ndemonstrate the necessity of the _Ideal_ as _Fine Art._\n\n3. In the _third_ of these aspects the subject of our investigation\nwill be the _Ideal_ in its _positive realization_, in other words as\nthe artistic display of this Ideal in particular _works of art._\n\n[Footnote 175: The German word here is _Geist._ I have translated it\nas best seems to suit the particular context in which the German word\noccurs.]\n\n[Footnote 176: _Unendliche Negativit\u00e4t._]\n\n[Footnote 177: This is the \"Ought\" of practical feeling. As such just\nas in the case of the analytical sciences, what it lacks is objective\ndetermination (see \"Phil. of Mind,\" trans. of W. Wallace, p. 94).]\n\n[Footnote 178: _In seiner Gemeinde._ We should rather expect _in seiner\nGebiete._]\n\n[Footnote 179: The reference here appears to be to the three attitudes\nof thought to the objective world which may be generally indicated\nas that of ordinary consciousness, that of empiricism and that of\nspeculative Philosophy. In the paragraph which follows, however, Hegel\nmainly refers to the logical process of dialectic and the Idea of\nNature (_die nat\u00fcrliche Idee._) The latter may, however, refer to both\nthe previous divisions, _i.e._, the commonsense point of view and the\nscientific.]\n\n[Footnote 180: The spheres of art and social life are first perceived\nas merely independent circles of activity.]\n\n[Footnote 181: That is to say, nations have not only found in Art the\nbest means of expressing their religious consciousness, but, even\nwhere religion has been raised to a higher power, have found in it the\nmost adequate form in which to express the ideality of their general\nspiritual life.]\n\n[Footnote 182: _Welche sick durch alles hindurchzieht_, _i.e._, which\npermeates all experience.]\n\n[Footnote 183: In this metaphysical passage Hegel appears to be\ncontrasting his own philosophical standpoint, absolute idealism, with\nthat of critical or empirical philosophy, those at least who conceive\nreality either as a thing-in-itself, or the _materia_ supplied to\nsense-perception from a world outside the human consciousness. The\nentire content of the Real is, on the contrary, all included under the\nform of self-conscious thought.]\n\n[Footnote 184: He means, I think, province of the universal, rather\nthan \"universal expansion of horizon.\"]\n\n[Footnote 185: The words of Hegel are \"_innerhalb derselben im\nendlichen Geiste die Erinnerung des Wesens aller Dinge_.\" He no doubt\nhas in his mind the derivation of the word _Erinnerung._ It is the\n_inwardization_ or idealization of such substance.]\n\n[Footnote 186: _Anschauung_, that is to say, it is the object of man's\nreceptive senses.]\n\n[Footnote 187: The punctuation is clearly wrong. It is also very\npossible that _derselben_ is a misprint for _dieselbe._ But in any case\nthere should be comma rather than semicolon.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE NOTION OF THE BEAUTIFUL IN ITS GENERAL SIGNIFICANCE\n\nI\n\nWe have defined beauty to be the Idea of the beautiful.\n\nBy this definition is implied that we have to conceive the beautiful\nas Idea, and, moreover, as Idea in a determinate shape, as _Ideal._\nIdea, as thus posited, is just this, the conceptive notion, the\nrealization of the same, and the unity of both. The notion, as such, is\nnot yet the Idea, although the terms notion and idea are often loosely\ninterchanged. Idea is the notion only as presented in, and brought\ninto coalescence with, its objective reality. This unity, however, is\nby no means to be regarded as the mere _neutralization_ of notion and\nreality, so that the individual character and quality of either is\nabsorbed; as, for example, where we find that in a chemical compound\nsalt-potash and acid tend to neutralize each other in so far as they\nhave weakened their opposition. In this unity, on the contrary, the\nnotion is retained as the commanding factor. It is already implicitly,\nin virtue of its own nature, this very identity. Out of its own wealth\nit evolves the reality as part of itself, by means of a process which,\nbeing no other than that of development, surrenders nothing of its\nown nature, but brings into more concrete actuality the riches of the\nnotion, and for this reason continues in unity with itself and its\nobjective realization. Such a unity of the notional concept and its\nrealization is the Idea defined in abstract terms. The word idea is,\nof course, frequently used by authors of works dealing with the theory\nof art. It must, however, be admitted that many connoisseurs of high\nstanding are particularly severe upon its employment. The latest and\nmost interesting example of this polemical attitude is to be found\nin Herr von Rumohr's \"Italian investigations.\" This work is based on\nthe practical interest that the arts excite, and is wholly unconcerned\nwith that which for brevity we may call the Idea. The truth is that\nthis writer, who appears to have no knowledge of the development of\nphilosophy in modern times, freely confuses the expression as above\ndefined with the undetermined conceptions of the phantasy, or the\nabstract and characterless Ideal of well-known art theories or schools\nof art, ideas which present a lean contrast to the clearly defined and\nrichly caparisoned objects of Nature in their truth, and which this\nwriter opposes to the idea and empty Ideal, which the artist himself\nevolves from his own consciousness. We have, of course, no more right\nto suppose that creative work can be the result of such poverty, than\nwe can with justice assume that a thinker can think with conceptions\nwholly indeterminate, and persist in his thought with a content\ndestitute of all defined relation. Such an objection, however, does not\napply in any respect to the Idea in the sense we use the expression.\nThis Idea is through and through concrete; a whole which consists of\nrelations and is simply beautiful from being in direct union with the\nobjective form adequate to its expression.\n\nHerr von Rumohr has placed on record in this very book (Book I, pp.\n145-46) the following assertion, that \"beauty in the most comprehensive\nmeaning of the term, and as it is understood by intelligent people of\nour day, includes every quality of an object, which may either stir the\nsense of sight with satisfaction, or through that sense attune the soul\nand delight the mind.\"\n\nThese qualities are then further subdivided into three classes\nas follows: \"First, there is all that is perceptible through the\neye; secondly, that which is apprehended by means of the peculiar,\npresumably innate sense of mankind for spatial relations; and thirdly,\nall that in the first instance works upon the understanding, and\nonly indirectly through cognition on the emotions.\" This third and\nmost important determination rests apparently on forms \"which quite\nindependently of all pleasure to the sense and the beauty of extended\nshape arouse in us a specific delight which is ethical or spiritual\nin its quality, which in part to all appearance proceeds from the\nenjoyment we derive from the images excited (I presume he means ethical\nor spiritual ones)[188], and in part from the pleasure which the mere\nactivity of an intelligent appreciation infallibly brings with it.\"\n\nSuch are the principal factors according to which this undoubted\nconnoisseur of art defines his subject relatively to the beautiful. It\nmay very possibly pass muster with a certain type of uncritical reader.\nIt is, however, very unsatisfactory regarded from the philosophical\nstandpoint. For what does it at bottom amount to but this, namely, that\nthe sense of vision or spiritual sense, we may add the understanding\nitself, are moved pleasurably, or excite a feeling which results in\nawakened pleasure. The entire argument hinges on this one aspect of\nawakened gratification. This reduction, however, of the activity of the\nbeautiful to terms of feeling--that which pleases and charms us--has\nbeen disposed of once for all by Kant. His exposition has already left\nfar behind the feeling for the beautiful.\n\nWe will direct our attention now from this polemical tractate to a\nfurther consideration of the Idea its hostility has failed to weaken.\nIn this, as already stated, is comprehended the concrete _unity_ of the\n_notion_ and its objective realization.\n\n(_a_) Now, first, we will observe, in directing our attention more\nclosely to the essential nature of the notion, that it is no purely\n_abstract unity_ opposed to the _differences_ of _phenomenal reality_;\nrather, as the notion, it is already the unity that integrates\nthose relations, and by doing so is concrete totality. The abstract\nconceptions such as man, the quality blueness, and their like, are not\nnotions as such at all, but rather should be called abstract general\nconcepts, which are only raised to the dignity of the notion, when\nwe have demonstrated that they contain opposing factors in unity,\nand, in such a way, that this self-related nexus of unity constitutes\ntheir notional truth. For instance, the concept \"blueness\" as a colour\nreceives such a notional value when it is grasped as the unity, and,\nindeed, the specific unity of light and darkness[189]. In the same way\nthe concept \"man\" contains within it the opposing factors of sense,\nlife, and reason, body and mind (spirit); but a particular man is not\nto be regarded as a whole consisting in some way of these two aspects\nof his personality placed in a relation of indifference side by side\nas constituents of the same. Rather, in virtue of the notion, such\na whole contains these constituents in concrete and mediated[190]\nunion. Add to this that the notion is so completely the absolute bond\nand unity of its differences, that independently they cease to exist,\nthey are unable to assert the particularity, in virtue of which they\nmight escape from such a union. For this reason the notion includes\nall its determining constituents in the form of its own _ideal unity_\nand universality, which constitute its _subjective_ character in\ncontradistinction from the real as the object of sense-perception. For\nexample, gold is, as a particular object, of specific weight, definite\ncolour, and placed in a certain relation to specific acids. Such are\nvaried characteristics of gold, and yet are invariably found in a\nunified whole. The smallest speck contains them all in inseparable\nunion. By analysis or abstraction we indeed separate them, but in their\nnotion they are inseparably one. The inability of the differences,\nwhich the notion in its truth essentially possesses, to stand alone\nin their isolated self-identity is of a similar nature. A still more\napposite illustration is presented by the unique concept of the\nself-conscious Ego in its universality. For that which we call soul, or\nmore appositely the Ego, is the notion itself in its free existence.\nThe Ego contains a congeries of most distinct concepts and thoughts\nin itself; it is a world of ideas; yet none the less this infinitely\ncomplex content, in so far as it lies within the Ego, remains without\na vestige of substantiality or materiality packed within this ideal\nunity, as the pure and throughout fluid transparency of the Ego itself\nreflected to itself. And this is precisely the way in which the notion\nretains its varied determinations in ideal unity.\n\nThe determinants of the notion which are most cognate to the notion as\nsuch are the _universal_, the _particular_, and the _single_. Every one\nof these determinate qualities taken by itself is a mere abstraction.\nAs thus regarded, however, abstract, that is to say, from one another,\nthey are not present in the notion: that is rather their ideal _unity._\nThe notion is therefore the universal, which, on the one hand, negates\nitself to a condition of relativity and _particularization_, but, on\nthe other, this riving asunder, in so far as it is negation of the\nuniversal, is itself again _annulled._ For the universal as present\nin the particular, which itself is only the particular aspects of the\n_universal_ itself is present in no particular absolutely, but rather\nin that very particular reaffirms once more its essential unity as\nuniversal. In this return upon itself the notion is infinite negation;\nnegation, I mean, not as against another, but self-determination, in\nwhich alone it subsists in its positive and correlative unity. In this\nway it is _singularity_ in its truth; it is the universal nexus which\nshuts itself up with itself in its particulars. As the highest example\nof this property of the notion we would refer back to what we have\nalready, if in a summary way, said about the essential activity of\nSpirit.\n\nThrough this infinite capacity of return upon itself the notion is\nalready, by virtue of its intrinsic wealth, totality. It finds the\nunity of itself in the being of another, and for this reason possesses\na free activity, being, however, negation as self-determination, not\nas the alien limitation of its own substance through something other\nthan itself. But regarded as such totality the notion is already in\npotential possession of all phenomenal reality, and is that which\nmediates and restores the unity of the Idea. And whoever ventures\nto think that in the Idea we have presented to us something totally\ndifferent and apart from the notion, has as little knowledge of the\nnature of the Idea as he has of the notion. At the same time there\nis, no doubt, a difference between the notion and the Idea, and it\nis this: in the former the particularization is only an abstract\nparticularization, for this reason that in the notion the determinate\nrelations are alone coherent in its transparent medium, that is to say,\nin its unity and ideal universality. The notion, therefore, itself\nremains subject to the one-sidedness of its particular material, and\nis hampered with the defect that although in its own nature it is a\ntotality, yet it is only in the aspect of it as unity and universality\nthat it is entitled to free self-development. But inasmuch as this\ndefect in its completeness is foreign to its own essential form, the\nprocess of its activity is to remove it. It negates itself as this very\nideal unity and universality and allows that which is enclosed in the\nbarren chamber of ideal subjectivity to flow forth freely into real and\nsubstantive _objectivity._ In other words, the notion through its own\nactivity posits itself as objective reality.\n\n(_b_) Objectivity is therefore, truly apprehended, the _real existence_\nof the _notion._ It is, however, the notion under the mode of\nself-substantive particularization and of a differentiation of all\n_antithetical_ phases[191] of reality, whose ideal unity the notion in\nits subjective capacity constituted.\n\nBut inasmuch as it is the _notion_, and only the notion, whose function\nit is to endow objectivity with its determinate existence and reality,\nso too it is only through objectivity that the _notion_ is unveiled in\nits actuality. The notion is, however, the mediating and _ideal unity_\nof all its particular antitheses. Within its differentiated reality\nthis ideal unity, effective throughout particularity in modes adequate\nto the notion, has to establish itself in them, precisely in a way\nsimilar to that in which the realized particularity of their unity, as\nthus mediated to the point of ideality, has also to exist in them[192].\nThis is the might of the notion, which refuses to surrender or forfeit\nits universality among the _disjecta membra_ of the objective world,\nbut rather reveals its essential unity through such reality and within\nit. For it is nothing less than the very life of the notion to preserve\nits unity in the material which is offered it. Only by so doing is it\nreal and veritable totality.\n\n(_c_) This totality is the _Idea._ The Idea is not simply the ideal\nunity and subjectivity of the notion. It is quite as much its true\nand objective reality; it is, however, an objectivity which does not\nconfront the notion as an opposing factor, but is rather that in\nwhich the notion itself is self-determined. In whichever aspect we\ncontemplate the notion, whether as subjective to our apprehension, or\nas objectively real, the Idea it manifests is a totality. But it is\nmore than this. It is the unity which for ever is mediating between and\nbringing into more perfected harmony the two totalities. Only as thus\napprehended is the Idea truth and indeed all truth.\n\n2. All that exists, then, has only truth in so far as it is a definite\nexistence of the Idea. For the Idea is alone the truly real. The truth\nof the phenomenal is not derived from the fact that its particular\nexistence is of an inward or external character, and as such is in\na general sense reality; it is so wholly in virtue of the fact that\nsuch reality is adequate to the notion. Then alone is determinate\nexistence real and true. And the truth, to which we here refer, is\nnot a _subjective_ interpretation of it, namely, that a particular\nexistence is accordant with my own conception of it. It is truth in the\nobjective sense that the reality of the Ego, or of any external object,\naction, or circumstance actually contributes to the realization of\nthe notion. If this identity is not established the existence remains\npurely phenomenal. Instead of the objectification of the notion in its\ncompleteness what obtains is purely a detached aspect of it; and with\nregard to this, whatever self-subsistence it may appear to have in\nopposition to the unity and universality of the notion, such can only\nwork to its final confusion by setting it in hostility to the true\nnotion itself. Our conclusion, therefore, is that only the reality\nwhich adequately expresses the notion is truly reality, and the reason\nit is so is that therein the Idea manifests itself as existence.\n\n3. We have maintained that beauty is _Idea_. It follows that\n_beauty_ and _truth_ are, in one aspect of them, _identical_. In\nother words, beauty must itself in its intrinsic being be true. A\ncloser investigation will further show to us that truth must be\n_distinguished_ from beauty.\n\nThe idea is true in the sense that it is so by virtue of its essential\nbeing and according to its fundamental principle[193], and as such\ntruth it is thought[194]. It is not its sensuous and external\nexistence, but the _universal_ Idea of thought as present in this. At\nthe same time the Idea is driven to seek its realization in external\nand objectively determined existence, both in the sphere of Nature\nand that of Mind. The true, in the absolute sense, also exists. And\nin so far as, in this its external existence, it is immediately\napprehended by consciousness, and the notion rests in immediate unity\nwith its external appearance, the Idea is not only true, but is also\n_beautiful._ The _beautiful_ may therefore be defined as the _sensuous\nsemblance_[195] of the Idea. For the sensuous condition and the\nobjective world generally maintain no real self-subsistence in beauty,\nbut have merely to surrender the immediacy of their _being._ In beauty\nsuch are posited simply as the determinate existence and externality\nof the notion, and as a form of reality, which itself manifests the\n_notion_ in unity with its external appearance in this its particular\nobjective existence. For this reason it can only pass as the semblance\nof the notion.\n\n(_a_) Accordantly with this it is impossible for the understanding[196]\nalone to grasp the significance of beauty. For inasmuch as objective\nreality is apprehended by this faculty as something at least quite\nother than ideality, sensuous perception, as something very different\nfrom the notion, the external object as something that is anywhere\nrather than within world of the conscious self, to that extent it\ncannot fail to emphasize the contradictions implied in such separation,\nrather than penetrate to the ideal unity we have above described. The\nunderstanding remains rooted in the finite, the incomplete and untrue\nabstraction. The beautiful is on the contrary itself essentially\n_infinite_ and free.\n\nFor although the content of beauty is stamped with particularity and\nto that extent limited, such content is essentially in its mode of\nenvironment a totality that is infinite[197] and a free existence; and\nit is both for the reason that it is the notion, which does not pass\nbeyond this its objective semblance, and so fall into finite and one\nsided abstraction with it, but rather is immersed as a blossom with\nthis its objectification and through the imminent unity and perfection\nof such inclusion is revealed as essentially infinite. With equal\ntruth we may affirm that the notion in sealing, as it were, with a\nsoul the real existence, in which it is part of the objective world,\nis itself by itself freely manifest in that world. For the notion will\nnot suffer that external existence in the sphere of beauty to follow,\nas it would otherwise, the laws that therein are paramount: rather\nit determines out of its own riches the articulation and form of its\nappearance therein; and it is precisely this harmony of the notion with\nthe mode of its external existence which constitutes the essential\nlife of beauty. And the bond which braces all together, no less than\nthe power behind it, is self-conscious life, unity, soul, and artistic\npersonality.\n\n(_b_) We conclude, then, that if we consider beauty in its relation to\nconscious life, on the _subjective_ side that is, it is neither to be\nadequately apprehended by an intelligence that persists in the unfree\nmedium of purely finite existence, nor is it the object of the finite\nWill. We will enlarge a little on both points.\n\nAs finite intelligence we are aware in feeling of the inner no less\nthan the outer objects of consciousness; we observe them, perceive\nthem to be true to our senses, allow them to form part of the content\nof our perceptions, concepts, and finally, no doubt, to become the\nabstractions which our understanding presents to us, reflecting\non their appearance, and endowing them with the abstract form of\nuniversality.\n\nNow the finiteness and absence of freedom inseparable from this mental\nattitude consists in the assumption that the things perceived are\nself-subsistent. We direct our attention to these objects, suffer them\nto impress us, form our ideas of them, possessed with the faith in\ntheir material existence as objects, and convinced that all we have\nto do is to perceive them as they appear to our passive reception,\nto preserve, in short, the formal side of our attention intact,\nholding such unfettered by our fancies, opinions, and prejudices.\nIn thus accepting this one-sided freedom of objects we posit at\nthe same time the want of freedom in their mental apprehension. To\nsuch the content is one wholly _given_ from outside; and instead of\na true self-determination through difference we have nothing but\nthe reception and acceptance of what is presented as a part of the\nobjective thing. We would arrive at truth by the suppression of all\nthat belongs to ourselves[198].\n\nA criticism of like nature, though the defect is here just at the\nother extreme, may be applied to the finite _Will._ In this theory\ninterests, objects, intentions, and conclusions are all relegated to\nthe subject, whose will it is to enforce them as against the existence\nand properties of the material thing. This it can only do by the\nannihilation of the object itself, or at least, in so far as it can\nmodify or change its form and energies, by transmuting its qualities,\nor permitting them to exercise such a change on each other, as water\nmay exercise on fire, fire on iron, iron on wood, and so forth. We now\nfind that it is the particular things, which the subject has enrolled\nin its service, as things to be regarded and treated as _useful_,\nwhich in their turn have been deprived of their self-subsistence.\nIn other words, they have come to be regarded as objects, whose\nnotion and meaning is not their own, but derived from the reflecting\nconsciousness, so that what is most essential to them is precisely this\nrelation of service in which they stand to the subjective purpose, that\nis, our own intelligence. The values of either side of the relation\nare thus completely reversed. The objective thing has lost freedom and\nthe conscious subject secured it. As a matter of fact, the freedom\non _both_ aspects of the relation is, owing to the finitude and\nabstraction it implies under such a view, a purely supposititious one.\n\nIn the sphere of _theory_ here it is the assumed independence of the\nobjective world which creates the finitude and bondage of the conscious\nEgo. In that of the practical world this dependence is due to its\none-sidedness, the conflict and contradiction of its aims within and\nthe impulses and passions which press from without, no less than to\nthe unreconciled opposition of a world of objects. For the separation\nand opposition of these two aspects of one whole, that is, objects\nand relating self-conscious life, is presupposed in, and indeed is an\naccurate definition of, this point of view.\n\nAnd, similarly, with reference to the lack of freedom in the object.\nHere, too, in the sphere of intelligible conception, the independence\nof the object is assumed, but the freedom assumed is only apparent. For\nit is only posited as bare objectivity without securing the presence\nof its notion, as the unity and universality of the conscious subject,\nwithin such objectivity. It still remains outside it. Every object thus\nplaced external to the notion merely exists as particularity, which\ncomes back to us in external guise together with its manifold, and\nis, in all the unlimited scope of its relations, through its contact\nwith other objects, subject to the conditions of its origin, change,\nopposing force and final overthrow. In the _practical_ world the\ndependence of the object is expressly, in this view, assumed, and the\nopposition of the thing is posited in definite relation to volition\nwithout possessing in itself the power of ultimate self-subsistency\npermitted to the latter.\n\n(_c_) The apprehension of the object as _beautiful_ unites these two\nabstract points of view. It in fact annuls the one-sidedness of both\nwhether relatively to the subject of consciousness or its object, and\nby doing so cancels the finitude and lack of freedom which characterize\nthem.\n\nPhilosophically regarded[199], the reason is this, that the object is\nnot apprehended in its existence as an isolated thing whose notion\nas the object of human thought is removed from the objectivity which\nbelongs to it as something outside it, and which in its particular\nreality extends and is dissipated in every conceivable direction\nas a manifold content of intelligible relations. An object which\nis beautiful suffers its own notion to appear as realized in its\nobjective presence, and reveals in that appearance the unity and life\ninseparable from the conscious subject. For this reason the object may\nbe conceived as sweeping back into the curve of its unity that impulse\nof continuous externality, cancelling its dependence on other objects,\nand transmuting to our vision its unfree finitude into free infinity.\n\nFurthermore, the Ego in its relation to the object of beauty ceases\nto be merely the abstract attention or sensuous perception, and the\nfloating away of such perceptions into equally abstract reflections.\nRather, it is itself concretely realized in this object, being at once\nthe unity and reality of its notional idea, and uniting for itself\nin its rounded concreteness that which has hitherto remained, as\nabstractly perceived, apart in the Ego of the subject of perception and\nthe thing perceived.\n\nComing now to the practical import of this relation as it applies to\nthe object of beauty, we have already drawn attention to the fact at\nsome length, that in the contemplation of it the element of sensuous\npassion drops away. All personal impulse that the individual may\nfeel toward the object is done away with through that very aesthetic\ncontemplation, which regards it as self-subsistent in itself, in other\nwords, its own object. For this reason, the purely finite relation\nof the object also disappears, the relation, that is, in which it\nsubserved, as a means for their realization, aims which were foreign\nto it, and towards the fulfilment of which it was either presented\nas unfree or was compelled to take up, however strange, into its\nown existence. At the same time that relation of the Ego in the\npractical world which we found to be unfree disappears, inasmuch as it\ndifferentiates itself no longer in subjective motives and their means\nor material, remaining fixed in the finite relation of the formal\n\"ought\" for the carrying out of its subjective ends in the object, but\nis here confronted with the notion and its aim completely realized.\n\nWe may say, then, that the aesthetic contemplation of the beautiful is\na liberal education, a portrayal of the object in its free and infinite\nbeing, with no detracting consideration of its use or employment\nfor finite wants and purposes. Further, the _object_ as a _thing of\nbeauty_ is neither under force or compulsion at our hands, nor is it\nin conflict with and overcome by other things outside it. It is of the\nessence of beauty that the notion, end and soul thereof, no less than\nits existent form, and variety generally, manifest themselves out of\ntheir own intrinsic wealth rather than through the energy of something\noutside them. The reason of this lies in the fact, already insisted\nupon, that their truth consists solely in the unity and harmony of\ntheir notion with their objective existence. And inasmuch as the notion\nis itself concrete totality, its objective reality also appears as\na manifestation of the same, homogeneous in all its parts, which,\nas thus imbedded in the notion, appear to fall into such ideal unity\nand animation. For this harmony of the notion and its envisagement is\nnothing less than perfected suffusion[200]. Accordingly the exterior\nform and shape is manifested, not as such by its separation from other\nmaterial, or as an impression mechanically related to aims which\nare foreign to it, but as the form of reality wherein the notion\naccommodates itself out of its own stuff and substance. Finally,\nhowever much the particular aspects, parts or articulations of the\nbeautiful object are presented in the ideal unity of the notion and\nits unified envisagement, that harmony must be so rendered visible to\nsense, that in relation to one another they preserve the semblance of\nself-subsistent freedom; in other words they must not only possess the\nideal unity of the _notion as such_, but must reflect back the side\nof a reality which is substantially objective also. Both aspects, in\nshort, must be present in beautiful objects; for these are, on the\none hand, the _necessity_ posited through the notion and discovered\nin the harmonious conclusion of these particular aspects, and on the\nother, the envisagement of their freedom as essentially one with the\nwhole, and _not merely_ that of the _unity_ which exists between the\nparts. Necessity in its full definition means the just relation of\nthe two aspects, which coalesce so completely that to posit one is to\nposit the other. Such a necessity must unquestionably be present in\nbeautiful objects. It is not, however, under the mode of necessity that\nit appears; rather it should conceal itself beneath the semblance of\nunintentional accident. Otherwise the particular parts of such a real\npresence lose the position they should occupy according to their own\nreal existence, and only appear in the service of their ideal unity, to\nwhich they therefore remain in abstract subordination.\n\nIn virtue of the freedom and infinitude above analysed, which is\ninherent in the notion of beauty, whether we view it in its objective\npresence as a thing of beauty, or under its aesthetic contemplation, we\ndisengage the province of the beautiful from the relations of finite\ncondition, to exalt it into that of the Idea and its truth.\n\n[Footnote 188: This is, of course, a note of Hegel himself.]\n\n[Footnote 189: This, of course, has reference to Hegel's unfortunate\nbelief in Goethe's theory of colour.]\n\n[Footnote 190: Mediated (_vermittelt_), because the concrete is first\napprehended through its differences, and only after reflection do we\narrive at the notional unity which transcends and unites them.]\n\n[Footnote 191: _Momente._ Phases asserted and reconciled in the evolved\nnotional unity, organic or otherwise. The notion is subjective because\nit is an ideal unity.]\n\n[Footnote 192: The text is clearly corrupt. The full-stop after\n_herzustellen_ should be a comma, and _auch_ would be preferably\nchanged to _als die._]\n\n[Footnote 193: As essentially reason.]\n\n[Footnote 194: Not the substantive, but past participle.]\n\n[Footnote 195: _Das sinnliche Scheinen._]\n\n[Footnote 196: _Verstand_ in the technical sense of Kant's philosophy;\nthat is, the faculty of scientific observation or ordinary\nperception--analytical, in contrast to reason (_Vernunft_), the\nsynthetic faculty.]\n\n[Footnote 197: Infinite, that is to say, as human freedom is infinite,\nas mind is infinite, an ideal totality, a whole complete in itself, not\nan endless progress, which is a contradiction.]\n\n[Footnote 198: Or, as Hegel says, \"by suppressing the subjective\nprinciple altogether.\"]\n\n[Footnote 199: _Theoretischen_ here used in sense of true philosophical\ntheory, not one-sided views as above.]\n\n[Footnote 200: _Vollendete Durchdringung_, _i.e._, a penetration\nthrough all parts.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nTHE BEAUTY OF NATURE\n\n\nBeauty is the Idea as the immediate unity of the notion and its\nobjective reality, yet is only the Idea in so far as its unity is\nimmediately present in shape apprehensible to the senses and as\nsemblance of the real. The most elementary form of existence, which the\nIdea take to itself is _Nature_, and the first form of beauty is that\nof _Nature._\n\nA. THE BEAUTY OF NATURE AS SUCH\n\n1. In the world of Nature we must distinguish between the modes\naccording to which the notion becomes existent reality in order to be\npart of the Idea.\n\n(_a_) In the _first_ place the notion is absorbed so immediately in\npure objectivity, that, in its character of subjective and ideal\nunity, it wholly fails to assert itself, and passes over instead as a\nthing without a soul into the raw _materia_ presented to sense. The\npurely mechanical or physical bodies in their isolated singularity\nare of this order. A particular metal is, for example, essentially no\ndoubt a manifold of mechanical and physical qualities; every part of\nit, however, has such qualities equally in itself. Such a body not\nmerely fails to possess any entire articulation of its parts in the\nsense that every one of its different parts receives for itself a\nparticular material existence, but even the negative ideal unity of\nsuch differentiation is absent, which might assert itself as animating\nprinciple[201]. The difference here is a purely abstract multiplicity,\nand the unity posited the indifferent equilibrium of identical\nqualities.\n\nThis is the first mode of the existence of the notion. The differences\nhere receive no independent existence, and the ideal unity is not found\nas ideality. For this reason such isolated bodies are essentially\ndefective and abstract existences.\n\n(_b_) Natural objects of a higher order suffer the differences asserted\nby the notion to appear as free, so that each one as external to\nanother is itself independently existent. Here we have for the first\ntime the true character of objectivity. Objectivity is just this\nindependent assertion of the segregated differences determined by the\nnotion. On this plane of existence the notion asserts itself in such a\nway that it is at least a totality of its differences, which is truly\nrealized, in so far as the particular bodies, while they each severally\npossess independent existence for themselves, are at the same time\nmembers of _one inclusive system._ Of such a character is the solar\nsystem. In one aspect of them the sun, comets, moon, and planets appear\nas independent heavenly bodies apart from one another; in another,\nhowever, they derive their definite character from being parts of\none system of such material bodies. Not only their specific modes of\nmotion, but also their physical qualities, are only to be deduced from\ntheir relation to this system. This nexus which binds them together\nconstitutes that inward unity which relates these particular existences\ntogether in one whole.\n\nBut further than this, in this conception of system the operation of\nthe notion is not exhausted in the _existent unity_ of independent\nbodies as essential parts of it. For just as the differences are real\nthe unity which relates them to the totality has to assert itself\nas real. This unity, in other words, differentiates itself from\nthe multifold particularity of those objective bodies of which it\nis the integrating principle. And on this plane of existence it is\ndifferentiated therefore itself against such a particularity as real,\nindependent and objective existence. In the solar system the sun exists\nover against all particularity related to that system, as such a unity\nof the system.\n\nSuch a material existence of the ideal unity of the notion is still\nvery defective; for whereas on the one hand we have this unity posited\nin its reality only as the relation or material connection between the\nseverally independent bodies, on the other we have it posited as a\nbody which belongs to that system, whose unity, in opposition to its\nreal differences, it essentially represents. The sun, in short, which\nwe take to be[202] the soul of the system, has itself an independent\nentity apart from the members which form the explicit content of this\nsoul. It is itself only _one_ particular mode or phase of the notion,\nthat, namely, of unity in its _difference_ from the actual separation\nof the several parts, a unity which remains outside itself, and is\nconsequently abstract. For however much the sun by virtue of its\nphysical quality is plainly a principle of unity, the illuminating\nbody as such, this is after all merely an abstract identity. For light\nis simple, undifferentiated appearance and nothing more. We find\ntherefore in the solar system the unity of the notion indeed objective,\nand the totality of its differences explicitly realized, each body\nmaking visible _one_ particular phase[203] of the notion; but here,\ntoo, it lies absorbed in its objective reality, and it fails to assert\nitself in such material as is truly inherent and explicit ideality.\nThe form of its existence which here prevails remains the independent\nsegregation of its particular phasal units[204].\n\nIt is, however, essential to the true existence of the notion, that the\n_differences_ of the objectively real, the reality, that is to say, of\nthe separate independent parts and the equally independent unity that\nis therein objectively realized, should as such be together brought\nback into unity. Only thus such a totality of innate differences can\nmake wholly explicit either the notion as the realized differentiation\nof its characteristics, or at the same time release each particular\nthat belongs to it from the element of isolated independence which it\ncancels by enabling the ideality, in which these differences recover\ntheir subjective unity, to assert itself fully as the universal\nprinciple of their animated being. In that case they become no longer\n_parts_ hanging loosely to one another by a bond that still leaves\ntheir particularity unaffected, but genuine _members_ of one body.\nThey no longer possess an existence in their isolated singularity,\nbut retain such truly in the ideal unity which binds them together.\nOnly in such an organic articulation the ideal unity of the notion is\npresent to the parts thus integrated. It is at once their support and\nimmanent soul; here for the first time the notion is not overwhelmed in\nobjective reality, but passes over into actual existence as the inward\nidentity and universality, which it essentially is.\n\n(_c_) But this _third_ mode of Nature's manifestation is a determinate\nexistence of the _Idea_, and the Idea as thus manifested in Nature\nis _Life._ Dead or inorganic nature is not adequate to express the\nIdea; only the organic life of Nature unfolds its reality. For in life\nwe shall find, _first_, that the objective reality of the notion as\ndifferentiated is presented as such reality; _secondly_, however, that\nthe negation of such differences is entirely one of distinction in that\nreality[205], the ideal subjectivity of the notion overcoming to itself\nthis very reality; _thirdly_, the unifying principle of animation is\nnow the positive appearance of the notion in the form of its bodily\nsubstance, that is to say, the form of infinity, which is sufficiently\npowerful to assert itself thus formally in its content.\n\n(_\u03b1_) If we ask ordinary consciousness[206] for a definition of Life,\nwe have two determinations presented, either the imaginative conception\nof it as bodily life, or as soul-life. In the same view we distinguish\nthese two determinations with qualities peculiarly belonging to each.\nThis _contrast_ we set up between soul and body is also of great\nimportance in the more philosophical consideration of our subject. And\nit is no less part of our inquiry to investigate it. At the same time\nwe would point out that the philosophical interest concentrates itself\nquite as much on the _unity_ which exists between soul and body, a part\nof this inquiry which a really adequate survey of the subject has at\nall times found beset with the greatest difficulties. It is, however,\nprecisely in virtue of this unity that Life is the first genuine\nappearance of the Idea in Nature. We must consequently apprehend the\nidentity of soul and body as no fortuitous connection[207], but a\nunion of profounder significance. In other words, we must recognize\nthe body and its members as the objective existence of the notion\nitself in systematic articulation, which in the members of the living\norganism, secures an objective existence for its determinate features,\nanalogously no doubt, if on a higher plane, to the facts presented\nby the solar system. Within this real existence the notion asserts\nitself in like manner as the ideal unity of all these determinate\nparts. This ideal unity is the soul. The soul is the substantive unity\nand interfused universality which is no less a simple relation of\nself-determining than it is ideal Being-for-itself or self-coherent\ntotality. This is the higher view of the union between soul and body.\nTo put it in other words both are not merely distinct aspects set side\nby side; they are one and the same totality of identical determinants.\nJust as the Idea generally can only be grasped in its explicit reality\nas the notion evolving itself as such[208], in which conception the\ndifferentiation and unity of both sides, that is both the notion and\nits objective reality, are inseparably present, in the same way Life\nmust be conceived as the unity of both soul and body.\n\nAnd further, the subjective no less than substantive unity of soul\nwithin the body is presented us and exemplified in Feeling. The feeling\nof a living organism is, that is to say, not merely an independent\nproduct of a particular member, but it is also this ideal and simple\nunity of the entire organism. It is carried through every member of\nthe body is felt throughout in more than a hundred places at once; and\nindeed, to put it shortly, rather than saying there are many thousand\nsensitive points[209] in a single organism we should more justly say\nthere is but one, namely, the subject of consciousness. And inasmuch\nas the animating principle of organic Nature includes in itself this\ndistinction between the real existence of the organic members, and the\nabstract or simple self-coherence within such parts, which we call the\ngrowing soul, mediating between them both by virtue of its inherent\nunity, such a principle of Life stands on a higher plane than that of\ninorganic Nature. Only with Life is the Idea existent, and only thus is\nthe Idea truth. No doubt even in the organic world this truth can be\nextinguished. We find the body unable to perfect its essential ideality\nand animating energy. Such is the case in disease. Here we find the\nnotion deprived of its controlling sovereignty, and other powers are\npotent with it. Such a life is, however, defective and crippled: it\nmerely continues, because the inadequacy of reality to the notion has\nnot reached the point of absolute contradiction; it is still only\nrelatively valid. Once assume that all harmony between the two sides is\nbroken, that all genuine articulation of the members of the body and\ntheir true identity has dropped away, and life is dissolved in death.\nThe several members are now mere appendages to each other, with no\nprinciple of Life to hold them in unsevered unity.\n\n(_\u03b2_) We must add that when we stated the soul is the totality of the\nnotion regarded as the subjective and ideal unity, the body on the\nother hand, as distinguished by its members, is the same totality\nbut rather in its material aspect as the juxtaposition and sensuous\naccretion of all the several parts, affirming at the same time that\nboth soul and body are posited as _one_ in the living organism, there\nis no doubt something contradictory in the statement. For the ideal\nunity, so far from being this material juxtaposition of parts, in which\neach particularity possesses its independent consistency and exclusive\ncharacter, is rather in direct antithesis to such external reality.\nThat what is diametrically opposed should nevertheless be identical is\nobviously a contradiction in terms. The man, however, who declares the\nnon-existence of anything from the fact that it carries in our notion\nof it a contradiction which implies the identity of opposed antitheses,\nsimply excludes Life itself from the idea of existence. For the force\nof Life and still more the power of Spirit (mind) consists in this\nvery movement, namely, to assert the law of contradiction inherent\nwithin them, to bear the burden thereof and to overcome it. This\naffirmation and resolution of the contradiction which obtains between\nthe ideal unity and material juxtaposition of the members, constitutes\nthe appointed _process_ of life itself. And Life is simply _process._\nAnd this process of life includes an activity which has two distinct\nfunctions. On the one hand it has continually to affirm the material\nexistence of the physical distinctions[210] among the members of the\norganism thus determined; on the other, just in proportion as such\ndistinctions grow obdurate in their independent particularity, and tend\nto remain fixed in absolute separation from each other, it has to make\ngood once more that universal ideality, which is the principle of their\nlife. This is the idealism of Life's process. Philosophy is not the\nonly idealism; far from it. Nature herself in her domain of actuality\ncreates in the life-process just that which the philosophy of idealism\ncompletes in the world of contemplative thought. Only where we have\nthese two aspects of one activity, that is, the constant realization\nof the corporeal definition of the organism no less than the synthetic\naffirmation of such material presentment in the ideal unity, which\nit is as one with the notion[211], then and only then we have the\ncompleted process of Life, whose more primitive forms[212], however,\nthis is not the place to discuss. Through this unity of Life's energy\nin both its branches all the members of the organism are up held in\ntheir integrity, and continually flushed anew with the ideality of\ntheir life. This ideality is furthermore declared by the organic parts\nin the fundamental law of their being, that this unity of Life is not\nso much an accidental quality as, on the contrary, the substance of it.\nIn this alone they are able to preserve their specific character. This\nit is which precisely constitutes the difference between the part of a\nmere conglomerate and the member of an organism. The particular parts\nof a house, for example, the stones, windows, and so forth, remain just\nwhat they are, whether they form part of the structure of a house,\nor whether they do not. Their relationship to one another is quite\nindifferent, and the conceptual notion remains in their case a purely\nexternal form, which possesses no life in these parts raising them to\nthe ideality of a subjective unity.\n\nThe members of an organism have, it is true, an external reality, but\nfor all that it is the notion of Life which constitutes the inward,\nnay, the characteristic being of such reality, a reality which is not\nexpressed through one external form uniting them, but in the ideal\ncoherence of their parts in one living whole. For this reason the limbs\nhave no such reality as belongs to the stones of a building, or the\nplanets, moon, and comets in the solar system. Their reality is one\nwholly within the content of the organism, and all appearance to the\ncontrary is, as such, ideally imposed on them. Dissever the hand from\nthe body and it loses its independent existence as a member of the\norganism which made it what it was. Its activity, form, and colour,\nall that constitutes it, is at once changed; it enters the process of\ncorruption, and ultimately ceases to exist[213]. Consistent character\nit only possesses as a limb of organic life, reality only in constant\nreunion with that ideal unity which sustains it. And that is just the\nsuperior mode of reality which the living organism possesses in itself.\nThe real or positive is for ever being set up as both the negation\nof itself and withal the ideal resumption of itself, such ideality\nconstituting, in fact, both the maintenance and specific character of\nthe mode under which each of the separate parts of the bodily presence\nare associated together.\n\n(_\u03b3_) The reality, then, which the Idea wins for itself in the life\nof Nature is reality as a phenomenal process. Such an _appearance_\nstated in its simplest terms is this, that a reality exists, but its\npotential being[214] is not immediately in its possession, rather it is\nat the same time negatively affirmed[215] in the particular form that\nbelongs to it. The negation of the immediately external and particular\nmembers of a body is not only a negative relative relation as the\nactivity of the inherent idealization[216], but is as such a positive\nrealization[217].\n\nHitherto we have considered the particular objects of the real as\npositive in their self-exclusive particularity. This independence,\nhowever, is negated in the living object, and the ideal unity asserted\nwithin the bodily organism is alone found to assert over itself the\nfull force of positive determination. Such a positive ideality in\nthe principle of negation it asserts is the soul. On the appearance\nof the soul in the body we have at once such an affirmative presence\nas the one indicated. The soul not merely asserts itself as a power\nagainst the subdivision of the bodily members, it is their plastic\ncreator[218], which preserves as inward and ideal that which is\nexternally minted in the shape of physical members. And consequently\nit is this very positive and ideal inward[219] which appears in the\nouter structure; in other words, the external, so far as it is a mere\nexternal, is a mere abstraction, a mere aspect that is untrue for\nthe whole. In organic life the external we are confronted with is an\nexternality through which the inward is made visible. The outward, that\nis to say, declares itself in its potential nature as that inward,\nwhich is its notion. Further to this notion appertains the reality\nin which it as notion is made visible. Inasmuch, however, as in the\nobjective world the notion, strictly as such, is the principle of\nsubjective life and self-determined life becoming _explicit_ in its\nown objective reality[220], life exists only as a _living thing_, an\nindividual subject. It is only with life thus concentrated to a point\nthat we find this negating _centrum_ of unity. And it is negative in\nthis sense that the ideal explicitly self-unified totality[221] can\nonly now stand forth in its reality by virtue of this principle of\nideality being asserted through the differentiation of its positive\npresence, together with which the ideal unity of such totality is at\nthe same time incorporated. It is of the greatest importance to make\nclear this aspect of the principle of subjectivity. It is only as the\nsingle living thing thus unified by such a principle that life is\nactually present.\n\nIf we inquire further in what manner the Idea is manifested within the\nactual life of such living individuals our survey will be as follows:\n_first_, this principle of Life will be realized as the totality of an\norganism possessing bodily shape; _secondly_, this physical shape is\nnot presented as a rigid product[222], but as a continous process of\nideal generation, in which a living soul asserts itself. _Thirdly_,\nthe changes and determinations through which this totality passes\nare not imposed externally to it, but are changes of form which are\nevolved from its inherent nature, imposed on itself and for itself, in\na process wherein it stands self-determined as the subjective unity no\nless than the ultimate end of its being.\n\nThis free self-subsistence of the subjective principle of life is\nespecially exemplified in the spontaneous motion of a living organism.\nThe inanimate bodies of inorganic Nature are fettered to the conditions\nof Space, which limits them to one place, or they are only moved from\nit by external forces. The motion, in short, does not originate in\nthemselves; and, when it is visible upon them, it appears as an energy\nwhich is foreign to them, to remove which the only force they exert\nis that of reaction. And if the motion of the planets with similar\nphenomena appear to be otherwise produced, such are at least wholly\nfettered by natural laws and their abstract necessity. The living\nanimal, on the contrary, in its freedom of motion, negatives this\nenforced limitation to one spot by virtue of its own activity. It is\nthrough such self-determination the continuous liberation of itself\nfrom the material isolation. And for the same reason it is in this\nfreedom of motion, if only in a subordinate degree, the release of\nitself from the former abstractness referable to the particular modes\nof motion, their direction and their speed. Under a yet closer view,\nmoreover, the animal, regarded by itself in its organism, presents the\nsame sensuous matter that is moved; and here, too, life is as before a\nfreedom of motion within this organic reality, evidenced in the flow of\nblood and the movement of the limbs.\n\nMotion, however, is not the only expression of animated life. The free\ntones of the voice of animals, which are unknown in the inorganic\nworld, where bodies merely roar and clatter through the blow of objects\nexternal to them, these already present to us the higher expression\nof animated subjectivity. The most intimate and vital expression of\nsuch ideal activity is, however, brought before us when we find the\nliving individual able to concentrate itself as individuality over\nagainst the objective world, while at the same time it appropriates\nand transfigures that world _for its own._ And this is accomplished in\npart through observation by means of vision, and partly for practical\npurposes, in so far as such an individual brings the outer world\ninto subjection to himself, utilizes the same, assimilates it as a\nmeans of nourishment, and in this manner continually reproduces his\nindividuality in that objective _alterum._ Such a process, of course,\nas it ascends through stronger organisms, assumes more and more\nemphatic degrees of unsatisfied desire, assimilation, satisfaction, or\nsatiety.\n\nSuch, then, are the activities, in which the notion of animated life\nmakes itself apparent. Moreover, the principle of Ideality thus\nrendered visible is not merely the result of _our_ reflection; it\nis _objectively_ real itself in the living subject, whose existence\nconsequently we may go so far as to call an objective idealism. And\nit is the soul, as before stated, which, as this ideal energy, brings\nabout its own manifestation[223], always reducing the _purely_ external\nreality of the body to an appearance, and thereby affirming itself as\nobjective totality in that very bodily shape.\n\n2. Now it is as the Idea made objectively visible to the senses that\nthe animated life of Nature is _beautiful_; in so far, that is to\nsay, as the truth or the Idea, presented in the form of Nature, where\nunder it first appears, in other words life, is immediately given in\nthe particular shape of reality adequate to it. Owing, however, to its\nsensuous immediacy the living beauty of Nature is neither beautiful\n_for itself_ nor is the beauty strictly that which is _the outcome_ of\nitself, a product, that is, of its purely objective appearance. The\nbeauty of Nature is only beautiful for another, that is _for us_, the\nconsciousness that apprehends its beauty. The question therefore arises\nin what way and by virtue of what characteristics the principle of life\nappears to us beautiful in its _immediate_ existence.\n\n(_a_) If we look at the practical way in which a living object\nbecomes visible and preserves itself, the first thing which rivets\nour attention is _spontaneous motion._ This motion, regarded simply\nas motion, is nothing more than the entirely abstract freedom of\nmotion from place to place and from time to time, which we find\nexemplified in the spontaneous, but entirely haphazard movements of\nanimal life. In music and the dance we have, it is true, motion in\nits generic significance; but here motion is not merely a matter of\nchance and impulse, but it exhibits the laws which regulate it; it\nis defined, complete in itself and subject to measure; and it is all\nthis, though we still abstract from it the significance whereof it is\nthe beautiful expression. If we again interpret the motion of animals\nas the realization of an aim originating within themselves, this\nexcited impulse is still entirely accidental, an end of most restricted\nimport. If we further extend our survey and conceive such motion as\nthe activity and working together of all parts of the animal organism\ntowards a definite purpose, we shall merely find that such a conception\nis rendered possible by our own effort of imagination[224]. The case is\njust the same if we reflect upon the way in which an animal gratifies\nits physical wants, obtains nourishment through the organs which\ngrasp it, consume it, digest it, and generally is a subject of the\nprocess which preserves its life. For in this case also we have either\nonly before us single desires and their spontaneous and haphazard\ngratification, in which the inward activity[225] of the organism is not\npresent at all, or at least all these activities and their means of\nexpression have become the subject of our imaginative reflection, which\nis at pains to understand such a process by relating it to definite\nends, and to establish a harmony between aims assumed to belong to the\nanimal itself and the organs which fulfill them.\n\nWe shall rather find that neither the sensuous perception of single\nhaphazard appetites, arbitrary movements and efforts towards\nself-satisfaction, nor the fanciful consideration of the animal\norganism as one directed by purpose will present to us purely animal\nlife as a part of the beauty of Nature. The beauty consists in the\nappearance of individual form, both in repose and motion, quite apart\nfrom the relation of its self-gratification to any purpose thus\nsubserved, as it is apart from the entirely isolated contingency of\nself-imposed movement[226]. Such beauty is related to the _form_ alone,\nbecause it is only as such that it is the external appearance, in which\nthe objective idealism of the principle of life makes itself known\nto us as a thing perceived and contemplated upon through the senses.\nThought apprehends this \"objective idealism\" in the medium of its\nnotion, appropriating the same in the element of _universality_ which\nbelongs to it, albeit the contemplation of its beauty is inseparably\nbound with its _phenomenal reality._ And this reality is the external\nform of the articulated organism, which is, in our view of it, quite\nas much determinate particularity as it is a semblance, namely, that\nof the physical manifold of the separate members, which can only form\npart of the concrete totality of the _living form_ under the guise of\nphenomenal appearance.\n\n(_b_) From the explanation of the notion of life already given we\nmay deduce more narrowly the form of this appearance as follows. The\nform is one of spatial extension, limitation, and configuration,\ndistinguished through its various shape, colour, and motion, being, in\nfact, a manifold of such distinctions. If, however, the organism which\nmanifests these differences is a living organism, it will inevitably\nappear that the organism does not derive its true existence from such\na _manifold_ and its physical configurations. This is brought about by\nthe fact that the different parts, which are apprehended by us through\nthe senses, are at the same time conjoined together in one totality;\nthey appear consequently as the _members_ of one individual existence,\nwhich is a unity of such differences, and which not merely possesses\nthem in their difference, but as parts of one homogeneous whole.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In the first place, however, this unity will assert itself as\nthe _purposeless_ identity of such differences, that is to say with\nno abstract relation to any causal end whatever. The parts in such\na case are not rendered visible to sense merely as a means to or in\nthe service of some defined purpose, nor are they able to fix the\ndeterminate relation of form and structure which they occupy one over\nagainst the other.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Rather the contrary is the case, for, in the _second_ place, the\nbodily members have for our sense-perception the appearance of being\nquite _accidental_ in their form; in other words the determination of\none appears to be quite indifferent to that of another. In other words,\nwe can never conclude because one has a certain form another will have\nthe same, as would be the case if a material uniformity was clear\nbetween them. Where uniformity is the rule an abstract determination\nof some kind of form, size, or whatever it may be, is the property\nof all parts. The windows of a building, for example, are all of one\nsize, or at least are placed together in one row. Or we may illustrate\nthe same similarity with the uniform worn by all soldiers belonging\nto one regiment. We have various parts of such clothing differing in\ncolour, texture and the rest, but their formal opposition is no matter\nof chance; each has its causal connection with some other; it is\nthere because the other is there. Neither is there here any complete\ndistinction of form, nor any unique independence wholly asserted. With\nthe individual organism of life the case is entirely otherwise. Here\nevery part is absolutely distinguished; the nose from the forehead, the\nmouth from the cheek, the breast from the neck, the arms from the legs,\nand so on. Inasmuch as for our sense-perception every member possesses\nits unique form rather than one which belongs to another, or one which\nis determined by that of another, the members appear as self-subsistent\nparts, and for this reason free and spontaneous[227]. For the material\njuxtaposition of the parts alone throws no light upon their particular\nform.\n\n(_\u03b3_) _Thirdly_, it is obvious there must be for our imaginative\nperception a more inward bond of connection present in the\nself-subsistence of the organism, if the unity is not offered us in\nits rational, spatial, temporal, or quantitative relations such as\nare presented in the examples of uniformity referred to, which, as we\nhave seen, the unique particularity of the parts can extinguish. This\nidentity is not sensuous and immediately present to perception in the\nway the distinction between the members is presented; it is rather a\nsecret and _inward_ bond of necessity and harmonious relation between\nthe members and their form. If it were only inward, quite out of\nreach of our vision, such a necessary unity would be apprehended only\nin thought, removed from our sense-perception altogether. In such a\ncase, however, it would fail to enter into the beautiful object of our\nvision, and what we found as such in the living, object would cease to\nbe the Idea in its own objective and phenomenal reality. Such a unity\nmust consequently enter into what is externally perceived, although it\nis, as the ideal principle of life within it, not entirely apparent\nto sense or confined in spatial dimensions. It appears in fact in\nthe individual totality as the universal ideality of its members,\nconstituting thus the fundamental basis which supports and holds them\ntogether, the subject of the living subject. And this subjective unity\nin organic life finds its first direct expression in feeling. In the\nemotional life the Soul finds its true expression as _Soul._ For\nsoul the mere juxtaposition of limbs have no real truth, and in the\npresence of its subjective ideality the purely spatial multiplicity\nof external configuration ceases to exist. Such a manifold, with its\nunique differentiations, its organic articulation of parts[228] is\nno doubt presupposed; but when and in so far as the soul expresses\nitself through such in feeling the more inward unity ever-present\nto life asserts itself equally as the dissolution of all absolute\nindependence between the physical parts, which reveal now not merely\ntheir _materia_, but also that wave of animation which fuses all in\ntheir soul.\n\n(_c_) To start with, however, we must observe that the emotional\nexpression of soul-life neither offers us the visual impression of any\nnecessary inter-dependence between the separate members, nor indeed the\nperception of an identity which is necessary between such _physical_\narticulation and the _subjective_ unity conferred on it by simple\nfeeling. We will investigate this more narrowly.\n\n(_\u03b1_) If indeed the form and only the form renders in some way visible\nthis inward harmony and its necessity, it may be because we look\nupon this juxtaposition as the _habitual_ relation of such members,\na connection which brings to our view some specific type and the\noft-repeated formal exemplifications of such a type. But the necessity\nof custom is after all only a _subjective necessity._[229] According\nto such a principle we may find certain animals ugly for no other\nreason than that we find in them an organism which differs from our\nordinary experience, or runs contrary to it. For this reason we call\nthe organisms of certain animals bizarre in so far as the way in which\ntheir organs are related together is foreign to what is more common to\nour experience or entirely contradicts it. Fishes whose bodies are in\nsize out of all proportion to their length of tail, or those in which\nwe find eyes together on one side of the head only, are an example. In\nthe world of plants we are already prepared to find many such strange\ndepartures from type, although the cactus with its spines, and the more\nrectilinear shaping of its angular junctures[230] may still arouse our\nwonder. The more a man is educated, however, in all branches of natural\nhistory, the more able he will be to recognize in their truth the\nsubordination of all parts of organic life, and carry in the memory the\ngreatest variety of types in their proper classification, and the less\nanything he may observe will surprise him.\n\n(_\u03b2_) A profounder penetration into this correlation of the parts will,\nhowever, in the _second_ place, tend to give us that truer insight\ncompetent to determine from one of the parts the entire form to which\nit must belong. Cuvier is a famous example of such aptitude: a man\nof science, who by the examination of a single bone, whether fossil\nor otherwise, was able to specify at once by its characteristics the\nkind of animal to which it belonged. An excellent illustration this of\n_ex ungue leonem._ So from a claw or a thigh bone we may discover the\nconformation of the teeth, or _vice versa_ from the teeth that of the\nhip-bone, or that of the vertebral column. Such a profound synthesis\nof the type and the knowledge it implies carries us, however, beyond\nhabitual experience only. We must assume, to render it possible,\nprevious thought and the systematic arrangement of the isolated facts\nof science. Our example Cuvier had no doubt secured from previous\nexperience a determinate content and some specific quality which\nprevailed in each generic conception, and asserted itself as a unity\nof principle in all particulars however distinct, and so enabled\nhim to recognize their affinity. Such a specific quality is that of\nflesh-eating, which is then the determinating principle of the form of\nthe other members of the organism to which it belongs. A flesh-eating\nanimal requires teeth and jaws of exceptional vigour; when hunting it\nwill require claws to seize its prey, mere hoofs are insufficient. Here\nin short is a quality which necessarily determines for us the form and\nprinciple of affinity among all the organic members. A conception of\nsuch a typical character is the ordinary one we form of the strength\nof an eagle or a lion. We may no doubt find something both beautiful\nand instructive[231] in this way of regarding the animal world, in so\nfar as we derive from it some unified idea of its configuration, which\nis not a mere repetition of that unity in all the parts, but gives\nfull value to the distinctions they possess. For all that it must be\nremembered the dominant factor of this survey is not the _perception\nof our senses_, but the generic _thought_ of our minds with which it\nis made to conform. Reviewed in this light we ought not to say that we\nfind the object as such _beautiful_, but rather attribute that beauty\nto the _reflection_ of our own minds upon it. And if we examine these\nreflections more closely we shall find they are after all a deduction\nof our principle of unity from a limited aspect of the organic whole.\nWe concentrate our attention, for example, on the mode in which\nit is nourished, _i.e._, whether such an animal is carnivorous or\nherbivorous. Through such a limited determination we are still removed\nfrom a vision of the coalescent unity of the whole we identified with\nthe notion, the soul itself.\n\n(_\u03b3_) The truth is we can only, in this sphere, bring before our\nconsciousness the entire unity of life by means of our thought and\ngrasp of reason. In the natural world the _soul_, in its full activity,\nis not found; that is to say, the subjective unity, in its pure\nideality, does not exist there for a self-consciousness.\n\nIf, however, by means of thought, we endeavour to grasp the nature of\nsoul-life according to its essential notion we shall find two aspects\nunder which we may regard it; first, as the form subject to such a\nprinciple of animation; secondly, as the notion of soul for thought\nin all that the conception implies. Such a complete grasp of its true\nnature is not possible in the sensuous perception of the objects of\nbeauty. Such must neither pass before us as thought, nor must we\nallow the interest of Thought as such to form a barrier of difference\nor opposition between itself and the vision revealed to us. We are\nleft, then, with no alternative but to consider, under this point of\nview, the object as wholly presented to sense; we must assume that in\nthe sphere of Nature a _sensuous_ perception of the natural form is\nour genuine mode of contemplating the beautiful. \"Sense,\" that is the\nmaster-key[232] to the position; a word which in itself is interpreted\nin two opposed senses. In the first place we may indicate thereby the\norgans of immediate[233] perception, secondly, by the \"sense of a\nthing\" we may refer to the significance, or the element of thought and\nthe universal within it. In this way \"Sense\" is related on one side to\nthe immediate externality of existence, and on the other to its inward\nor essential nature. A sensuous perception of that existence in fact\npreserves both sides in unity, or rather in one direction so presents\nthe aspect that is opposed to it in the immediate sense vision as to\ninclude therein both the essence and notion of the object. But for the\nreason that it combines these opposed determinations in unfractured\nunity, the notion is not presented as such to consciousness, but is\nrather to be dimly foreshadowed there[234]. We accept, for example,\nas a determinate fact the existence of three realms of Nature, which\nwe define as that of the mineral world, that of plants, and finally\nthat of animals; we can conclude from this, as already foreshadowed\nby its truth regarded as a process rising from plane to plane, that\nthere is an inward necessity inherent in the notional articulation\nof its divisions, and do not confine ourselves only to the purely\nimaginative conception of it as a world conforming on its exterior\nside only to a final end. In the same way when confronted with the\nvariety of the external presentment in each of these realms, the\nsense-perception surmises a controlling unity intelligible to mind, a\nprogress subject to laws of thought, visible no less in the formation\nof mountain ranges than in the orderly succession of plant-life and\nof the animal races. The same tendency is presupposed when, after an\nexamination of the form of any particular animal organism, an insect's,\nfor example, as subdivided into head, body, abdomen, and extremities,\nwe conclude the correlation of such parts to be based on a rational\nprinciple, and are confident that though, at first blush, it may appear\nquite accidental that we are in possession of five senses, we shall\ndiscover a true bond of relation between that number and the notion\ntherein asserted. Of just this type is Goethe's method of observing\nand accounting for the innate reason of Nature and her phenomena. With\nan extraordinary intuitive sense he directed his attention directly\nto[235] the objects of experience, entirely convinced of the ideal bond\nof unity which explained their interconnection. History may be written\nwith a like object. The narration of facts and individual lives is\ngiven in such a way as indirectly to throw a light on the essential\nsignificance which such events or persons contributed to the period in\nwhich they are necessarily bound together in one organic whole.\n\n3. Consequently we may affirm that Nature generally, regarded as the\nsensuous manifestation of the concrete notion and the Idea, is to\nbe considered an object of beauty in so far as by such a sensuous\nperception of natural forms some kind of foreshadowing of the notional\nunity consonant to them is surmised, and we are able through the\nchannels of sense to discover not merely their form, but somewhat of\nthe inner necessity which binds together all their parts. Further than\nthis incomplete surmise of the notion the sensuous contemplation of\nNature as beautiful is not carried. This way of comprehending things,\nfor which the separate parts, despite their appearance of independent\nfreedom among themselves, nevertheless reveal to the sight the harmony\nthat exists there either in the characteristics of _their form_, or\ndetached portions of it or their motion and so forth, remains for\nall that _indefinite_ and _abstract._ The inward unity is not open\nto external sense, nor can it appear in its ideal and concrete form\nto such perception[236], whether imaginative or no; such at most\nacquiesces generally in the universality of a law of connection\ninherent in every living thing.\n\n(_a_) It is, then, in the first instance only in this bond of union\nwhich reveals itself as a necessary adjunct of vitality from the\nobjectivity of Nature, in so far as the same is presented in forms\nadequate to the notion, that we have before us the beauty of Nature.\nWith this coalescence the _materia_ is wholly identical; the form\nis immediately at home in the matter, as its true essence and its\nconforming energy[237]. This description may in fact stand for us, so\nfar as beauty at this stage is concerned, as a general definition of\nit. We admire, for example, the natural form of a crystal on account of\nthe law of uniformity it manifests, a law which through no mere action\nof forces external to it, but by virtue of its own specific definition\nand free activity, free in all its aspects as itself an object, is\nmanifested there. For although an activity external to it could as\nsuch equally be free, yet in crystals the conformative activity is not\nextraneous to the object; rather it is a form operative as belonging\nto the mineral's innate character. We may define it as the free force\nof its substance, which out of its own resources informs itself and\nis not merely passively receptive of its environment. Consequently\nwe find here the constituent material in its realized form as a free\nand independent creation. In still higher and more concrete mode the\nimmanent form projects itself through the living organism and all its\nparts, in the articulate form and, above all, in its motion and its\nvital expression as feeling. For in this last case we have the inward\nvitality pregnant itself as living.\n\n(_b_) It is moreover through this indeterminacy of the beauty of\nNature, originating in its inward principle of animation that (_\u03b1_)\nboth in virtue of the conception of life and the intuition of its true\nnotion no less than of the habitual types conformable to its adequate\npresentment, we are able to distinguish between animals which are\nbeautiful and those which are ugly. Animals incapable of vitality,\nsuch as the sloth, which creeps about with difficulty, and whose entire\nmode of life is suggestive of incapacity for motion or activity, offend\nour aesthetic sense for this very reason[238]. Activity and mobility\nare precisely the qualities which assert the higher ideality of life.\nFor the same reason we condemn forms of amphibious life, certain\nspecies of fishes, crocodiles, toads, and many kinds of insects;\nan additional reason will influence our similar attitude to hybrid\nspecies, where confusion of form marks the passage from one determinate\ntype to another; the ornithorhyncus is an example[239], an animal which\nwith its mixture of bird and four-footed beast may indeed astonish\nus, but at the same time is repulsive to our sense of beauty. Such\nfeelings of repulsion can no doubt be traced entirely to our habitual\nprepossessions which have moulded for the imagination a fixed type of\nanimal species consonant to experience. But even so there is already\nactively present the intuitive surmise that the configuration of a\nbird, for example, is related in its parts by a necessary principle\nof unity, and cannot as such graft upon itself forms which belong\nto other species without being thereby transformed into a hybrid\nvariety. Such abnormal deviations from type appear to us both strange\nand contradictory. Neither the one sided narrowness of organization,\nwhich is so defective and mean in its manifestation, that it exercises\nno activity over the straitened conditions of its environment, nor\nconfusions and passages of type, which, albeit they are not so enclosed\nwithin themselves, are unable to hold fast the distinctive features of\ntheir type, belong strictly to the sphere of natural beauty.\n\n(_\u03b2_) There is another sense in which we attribute beauty to Nature,\nnamely, when we have the collective picture of a landscape before us\nrather than observe the living form of a simple object. Here we have\nno organic articulation of parts such as is derived from their notion\nand is presented to us as such ideal unity in spontaneous life. We have\ninstead a rich variety of objects both organic and inorganic, which are\nunited together on one or more planes of vision in their distinctive\nfeatures, contour of mountains, winding outlines of rivers, groups\nof trees, huts, dwellings, palaces, and cities of mankind, ships,\nroadways, heaven and sea, valley and rock-cleft. We find, in addition\nto this variety and proceeding therefrom, a delightful or imposing\nharmony which appeals to our sense and interests us.\n\nIt is lastly a peculiar characteristic of the beauty of Nature that it\nshould excite or exercise a harmonious influence over our emotional\nlife. A mood of this kind is aroused by the stillness of moonlight,\nthe peace of a valley, through which some brook or other meanders, the\nsublimity of the immeasurable storm-tossed sea, the tranquil depth of\nthe star-strewn heavens. But the significant factor in this case is not\nso much to be found in the objects as in the peculiar moods they arouse\nin our feelings and affections. On analogous grounds we attribute\nbeauty to animals, when the expression of their life directly suggests\nhuman qualities, such as courage, strength, cunning, good nature, and\nthe rest. Such, no doubt, in one aspect of it, truly expresses the\nnature of the animals themselves; but there is also our own conception\nof its affinity to ourselves, and the mood in which we receive it.\n\n(_c_) However much animal life, as the culminating point of natural\nbeauty, unfolds its freest expression as a living principle, it\nis comparatively narrow in its range and subject to very limited\nqualities. The circle of such existence is a strait one; and in this\nthe predominant interests are those of the satisfaction of natural\ninstincts such as hunger and sex-attraction. Soul-life, regarded as\nthe inward principle expressed through external figure, is poor,\nabstract, and empty of content. Add to this the consideration that\nthis inward is not manifested at all as _inward._ The soul in its\nessential substance is not revealed by the life of Nature; it is, in\nfact, the determining characteristic of Nature that its soul remains\nshut in itself, does not, in other words, proclaim itself in its\nideality. As already pointed out, the soul of an animal is not this\nideal unity _self-acknowledged._ If it were otherwise we should have\nthe manifestation of such personality brought home to others. Only in\nthe self-conscious Ego do we find the ideal in its simplest terms,\nwhich is itself an ideal medium to itself, knows itself as this simple\nunity, and thereby endows itself with a reality, which is not limited\nto bodily and sensuous form, but is itself of an ideal character. Here,\nfor the first time, reality is in possession of a form adequate to\nthe notion; or rather the notion sets itself up as its own opposite,\nmakes itself objectively real and finds its own realization in that\nobjectivity. The animal life, on the contrary, is only _potentially_\nsuch a unity as that in which reality as bodily form is other than the\nideal unity of soul. In self-consciousness we have this unity realized,\nwhose opposing factors are constituent elements of one transparent\nideality. And it is as this concrete totality of self-consciousness\nthat the Ego is manifested to others. The forms of animal life\nmerely enable us through imaginative perception to divine the soul's\nexistence. Such only possess the troubled semblance of a soul,\nbetrayed to us through the breath or exhalement which permeates the\nwhole, gives some unity to all the members, and reveals in the entire\ninstinctive life the first germs of an independent character. Herein\nlies the primary defect of the beauty of Nature, even when taken at its\npoint of culminating form: and it is precisely this defect which will\nintroduce us to the necessity of _the Ideal_ as the beauty of art. But\nbefore we consider at length the nature of this Ideal, there are two\ndeterminations involved as the most immediate result of this inherent\ndefect in natural beauty, which invite our attention.\n\nWe have stated that in the animal form the soul appears as the bond of\nconnection within the organism and the unified point of animation only\nunder a cloud[240] and destitute of any fully realized content. We only\nfind there a quite indeterminate and restricted mode of soul-life. We\nwill now consider the abstract limitations of this mode more closely.\n\n\n\nB. THE EXTERNAL BEAUTY OF ABSTRACT FORM REGARDED AS UNIFORMITY,\nSYMMETRY, CONFORMITY TO RULE AND HARMONY AND REALITY IN THE SENSE OF\nABSTRACT UNITY OF THE PHYSICAL MATERIAL.\n\n\nThere is in Nature an external reality which is, of course, visible\nand definitely objective, but the inward unity of which, instead of\npresenting itself in the concrete inwardness referable to the unity of\nsoul-life, only goes to the point of indeterminacy and abstraction. In\nother words, it stops short of the inwardness self-actualized in an\nideal form and as the particular existence conformable to its ideal\ncontent. Its appearance is that of the defining principle on the face\nof external reality. Now the specific characteristics of inwardness in\nall its concreteness should be these. First, the principle of soul-life\nis asserted for itself no less than is potentially replete with\ncontent. Secondly, external reality interpenetrates this ideal arcanum,\nand by so doing fully reveals its true form as such external reality.\nA concrete unity of this nature is not reached by mere natural beauty:\nit lies beyond as the Ideal. On this plane of existence we cannot say\nthat such a concrete unity enters into the manifestation of form. We\nhave to deduce it through analysis, examining in their separation and\nsingularity the _distinguishing features_ which the unity supports. The\nform that informs here and the sensuous external reality _fall apart_\nfrom one another; or rather we have _two_ distinct aspects which we are\ncompelled to consider separately. By virtue of this fact, which we may\neither regard as a division of the material of sense or as a review\nof certain facts taken in abstraction, the inward unity, which is one\naspect of the external reality, itself falls outside it; that is to\nsay, it is not itself asserted in that rational reality as the wholly\nimmanent form of the entire notion which constitutes it, but rather as\nan Ideality and determinacy imposed externally.\n\nSuch are the points of view thus presented us which we will now\nconsider more closely.\n\nFirst, then, we have to discuss\n\n1. THE BEAUTY OF ABSTRACT FORM\n\nThe form of natural beauty in its abstraction is a form which is\ndeterminate and thus of limited range; in a further aspect of it\nit is focussed in a unity of abstract relation to itself[241]. On\ncloser inspection we shall, however, find that the external manifold\ncontrols this form of abstract beauty by reason of its own determinacy\nand unity. We must not, however, imply in these latter any immanent\ninwardness or form of vital ideality, but regard them as purely\nmaterial definitions and unity of the external medium. Forms of such a\ncharacter are uniformity, symmetry, or conformity to rule, and finally\nharmony.\n\n_(a) Uniformity_\n\nUniformity is, speaking generally, equality in external presentment,\nor, more specifically, the unbroken repetition of one and the same\ndefinite form, supplied by the determining unity to the form of\nobjects. Such a unity, in virtue of its initial abstraction, is at the\nfurthest extreme removed from the rational totality of the concrete\nnotion. Its beauty is therefore a beauty which is referable to the\nfaculty of the analytical understanding. The fundamental process of\nthat faculty is to perceive objects in their abstraction, not in their\nself-determined completeness and identity. For example, among all lines\nthe straight line is that which is most uniform, because it alone\nmanifests one abstract and undeviating direction. For the same reason\nthe cube is a figure dominated by regularity of content. All its sides\nare of the same size, the same length of line and the same angles,\nwhich, on account of their being rectangular, however much their size\nis changed, manifest no change in the form of their angles as is the\ncase with angles which are obtuse or acute.\n\nWith this characteristic of uniformity we must closely connect that\nof _symmetry._ Form is unable long to rest in that barest abstraction\nof its determination, namely, undifferentiated equality. A diverse\nrelation is sure to assert itself, breaking into the empty form of\nidentity. In this way we obtain _symmetry_, which consists in no\nmere identical repetition of one form, but in a combination with\nsome such form analogous to it, identical, that is to say, in its\nself-determination, and yet manifesting a distinct contrast with it.\nThrough such a combination we obtain another kind of equality and\nunity, whose determination is more extensive and more varied. If, for\nexample, on one side of a house we meet with three windows of the same\nsize separated at equal intervals of distance, then three or four more\nof loftier size than the first-mentioned standing at more extended or\ncloser intervals in relation to them, and again three more precisely\nsimilar in size and distance to our original ones, we have then before\nus a symmetrical arrangement. Mere uniformity and repetition of the\nsame distinctions will never produce this result. We may find such\ndistinguishing features in size, position, form, colour, tones, and\nmany others like them, which, however, to produce symmetry must be\nharmoniously related to similar forms of construction. When we find a\ncombination which presents to us an arrangement of such distinguishing\ncharacteristics according to some clearly uniform principle that then\nis symmetry.\n\nBoth these attributes, uniformity and symmetry, being the\ndeterminations of the form and unity of external appearance, are\nmainly applicable to _distinctions in size._ For it stands to reason\nthat what is expressly posited as external rather than truly immanent\ndetermination is generally a quantitative[242] determination, whereas\nthe qualitative fixes the inherent character of anything. Consequently\nthat which is assumed only to affect the external appearance cannot be\nconcerned with the changes which are found in the qualitative aspect.\nSize, on the other hand, and its alteration regarded merely as size,\nis for the qualitative determination, when it is unable to assert\nitself in terms of measure, an indifferent determination. That is to\nsay, measure is quantity, precisely in so far as it can give to itself\nan aspect which qualifies it, and thereby a qualitative determination\nis united to the purely quantitative one. As thus explained[243]\nuniformity and symmetry are merely restricted to the determinations\nof size and their uniform appearance or arrangement of differences\nin symmetrical order. Further inquiry will show us that this due\nco-ordination of size is as applicable to the forms of organic life as\nit is to those of inorganic Nature. The human organism is, for example,\nat least in a certain degree both uniform and symmetrical. We have two\neyes, two arms, two legs, similar hip-joints, shoulder-blades, and so\non. Of other portions of the body the reverse is the case. We find\nno conspicuous uniformity in the heart, lungs, bowels, or liver. The\nquestion arises what precisely constitutes the difference here. The\nside on which uniformity, whether of size, form, or position mainly\nasserts itself, is obviously the aspect of the organism viewed from\nthe outside. The uniform and symmetrical determination, in complete\nconformity with what we should expect, is most apparent where the fact\nas objectively determined is itself the external envisagement itself,\nand carries with it the least impression of inherent life. The reality,\nwhich is most constant to this pure externality, rests satisfied\nwith the abstract unity congenial to it. Within the organism, on the\ncontrary, where we find the heart of the life-process, and still more\nopenly in the medium of untrammelled reason uniformity gives way before\nthe subjective unity of life. Nature is, no doubt, in its opposition\nto mind, a determinate existence external and independent; but even in\nher we find that uniformity only pre-eminently asserts itself where\nexternality is the predominant principle.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Reviewing, then, shortly the _prominent classifications_ of\nnatural objects, we observe, in the first place, that minerals, taking\nthe crystal for an example, as structures destitute of the principle\nof life, are characterized in their fundamental form by uniformity\nand symmetry. As already remarked, their form, it is true, is one\nappropriate to themselves, is not merely the determination of external\nforces. Through an unseen energy the form that makes them what they\nare as products of Nature creates their configuration both within and\nwithout. This activity, however, is not yet the completed energy of the\nconcrete notion as an ideal principle, which directs the independent\nconsistency of the positive reality, subsuming them under an ideal\ntotality such as is present in animal life. The unity and definition of\ntheir form persists in purely abstract one-sidedness, and we have as\nthe characteristics of a unity which is wholly on the outside the bare\nforms of uniformity and symmetry, the determinating factor in each case\nbeing an abstraction.\n\n_(\u03b2) Plant life_ is, of course, many degrees above the order of\ncrystals. From the very commencement its evolution is marked by a\nharmonious articulation, and consumes material in a constantly active\nprocess of self-nourishment. But plant-life also is not yet really\nthe living whole[244]. Although organically divided into parts, its\nactivity is still one that consists wholly in assimilation[245]. It is\nrooted in the earth with no independent power of motion from place to\nplace; its growth is continuous, and such energy of assimilation and\nself-nourishment as it possesses is not the tranquil self-subsistence\nof a completely individualized organic existence, but rather a\ncontinuous extension of its growth as an external object. An animal\ngrows just as a plant grows, but at a determinate point that growth\nin its external size ceases, and that which reproduces itself in\nself-subsistence is one and the same individual. Plant-life, however,\nenlarges without intermission, and only its decease renders the further\nincrease of its boughs and leaves impossible. And, moreover, all\nthat it separately produces in this process is for ever the repeated\npattern of the same organism in its entirety. For every bough is a\nnew plant, and not, as in the case with the animal organism, only\nan isolated member. On account of this persistent enlargement of\nitself through all the separate plant formations whereof it consists\nplant-life is without the subjective animation peculiar to sensation\nand the ideal unity which belongs to it. And, generally speaking,\nwe may say that plant-life, however much the digestive process is\nan inward one, in which we find nourishment is assimilated and the\norganism determines the form which is impressed on its substance out\nof itself by virtue of the increasing freedom of the notional type\nworking through that substance, nevertheless substantially, through the\nentire process of its life, it remains rooted to externality without\neither a true independence or unity, and such self-subsistence as it\npossesses is continuous without a break. And it is on account of this\ncharacteristic of plant-growth, namely, that it is for ever asserted\non the side of externality, that we find uniformity and symmetry to be\nthe fundamental unity of its self-expression as it is a predominant\nprinciple of its structure. No doubt uniformity is not so regnant here\nas we observed it to be in the formation of minerals, and it is not\nexpressed in the same extreme degree through the abstract straight line\nand right angle: but it prevails here notwithstanding. The stem for the\nmost part runs on a straight line; the rings of plants of higher type\nform themselves in circles; leaves closely approach the configuration\nof crystals; and, at least as the basis of their type, we find that the\nblossoms themselves in the number of their leaves, their position and\nform are determined with uniformity and symmetry.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Finally, in the living organism of _animals_ a difference is\nasserted in the reduplicated structure of the members. In the bodies\nof animals, more particularly if we examine the higher species, the\norganism is a more inward, self-contained and self-determined totality;\nlike a sphere, it returns, so to speak, on itself, while still\nremaining an external organism. It is an external process, and yet, as\na process, asserted against externality. The more important organs are\nthose within, such as heart, lungs, and liver, and in these the life\nis bound up. Such are not determined under the simple characteristics\nof uniformity. In those members, however, even of the animal organism,\nwhich are fixed in direct relation to the outside world, symmetrical\narrangement prevails. Among such must be reckoned the members and\norgans which assert the subjective principle externally no less than\nthose which are the instruments of the active life. The sense-organs,\nsuch as sight and hearing, belong to the former; all that we see and\nhear is left as we found it. The organs of smell and taste already mark\nthe point of union with an activity exercised externally. We only smell\nthat which is already assimilated[246] by the organ of sense, and we\nonly exercise our taste through an act of destruction. We have, it is\ntrue, but one nose, but it is subdivided into two sections, each of\nwhich is uniform in structure. The same description is applicable to\nthe lips and teeth and other organs like them. Further than this the\neyes and ears, and the limbs employed in motion from place to place,\nor for direct control over external objects, in other words, legs and\narms, are entirely uniform in position, form, and other qualities.\nWe find, therefore, that in the organic world no less than in the\ninorganic uniformity asserts a very real predominance, qualified,\nhowever, by the fact that its presence is limited to those members\nwhich are the instruments of the organism in its direct relation to\nthe external world. On those through which the life-process returns\non itself by virtue of its own subjective principle there is no such\nimpression of uniformity.\n\nSuch, then, are the leading characteristics of the forms of uniformity\nand symmetry, and the manner in which they are asserted in the\nconfiguration of natural phenomena.\n\n_(b) Conformity to Rule_\n\nWe now propose to distinguish the more generic conception of conformity\nto law[247], so far as it appears on a higher plane of organic\nevolution than that already adverted to, and marks the passage of\nthe same to the freedom of natural no less than spiritual life,\nfrom the more abstract forms discussed above. Taken by itself, no\ndoubt, conformity to rule is not alone sufficient to give us the\nsubjective unity and freedom of _totality_; but we do find in the\nconfiguration to which it corresponds a totality of essentially\n_distinguished characteristics_, such as do not merely emerge in\n_difference_ and opposition, but betray both _unity_ and determinate\nconnection in such totality. A unity thus controlled, albeit still\nonly positively asserted in quantitative substance, is no longer\nreferable to essentially exterior distinctions of mere size numerically\nascertainable, but already introduces to our notice a qualitative\nrelation of consistency between these contrasted determinations. In\nother words we have here neither the abstract repetition of one and\nthe same determinant[248], nor a uniform interchange of similarity\nand dissimilarity[249], but the contemporaneous association of aspects\nessentially distinct from one another. We find, in fact, our sense of\nsight gratified by the association of these distinguishing features in\ntheir completeness. And it is the principle of reason which affords\nus such satisfaction, gratifying our sense only through the totality,\nor rather through the very totality of differences the nature of the\nfact requires. Such a connection, however, still remains an unexplained\nnexus, which sense-perception arrives at partly on account of its\npersistent repetition, and in part through an intuition of deeper\nsource.\n\nA few examples will make clear the process of definition from\nuniformity to conformity with law. Parallel lines of equal length are\nabstractly uniform. A further step is taken when we compare geometrical\nfigures of the same form, triangles, for example, but assume their size\nto be unequal. Here the angles subtended by the corners of each and\nthe relation of line to line is the same, but we find such similarity\nin different _quanta._ Take again the circle, it does not possess the\nuniformity of the straight line, but at the same time the determination\nof abstract equality strictly applies to it, for all its radii are of\nequal length. The circle is consequently still but a curved line that\nawakes no particular interest[250].\n\nOn the other hand, there is still less uniformity in the _ellipse_ and\nthe _parabola_, and they are only understood through the law of their\nform. In other words the _radii vectores_ of the ellipse are both\nunequal and in conformity with rule, and the same qualification applies\nto the greater and lesser axis of their lines of differentiation[251];\nmoreover, their foci are not central as is the case with the circle. We\nfind in these examples, therefore, a qualitative relation of difference\nassert itself in the law applicable to such lines and constructive of\ntheir interconnection. If, however, we divide the ellipse by means of\nits greater and lesser axes we obtain four equal sections; regarded as\na whole, therefore, we still find the principle of uniformity paramount\nin this figure. Of a higher degree of freedom in its conformity to law\nis the _oval._ We know there is such a law, though mathematicians have\nbeen unable to express its formula. This figure is not an ellipse, but\nthe higher curve differs from that below it. Still we find that even in\nthis example of freer eccentricity in Nature, if we divide it through\nits greater axis, we have still two equal halves. The final expression\nof mere uniformity in conformity to law is shown in lines, which, as in\nthe example of the oval, when divided through the smaller[252] axis,\ngive us unequal sections, neither section being a mere repetition of\nthe other. The so-called undulatory line is an example of this, in the\nsense Hogarth describes it as the line of beauty. Thus the inclination\nof the arms as they fall on either side of the human body is opposed.\nHere we have conformity to rule without uniformity pure and simple.\nSuch a kind of conformity especially characterises with its variety the\nconformation of the nobler living organisms.\n\nConformity to law is, then, an attribute of substantiality, binding\ntogether both its differences and its unity; but it remains still\nabstract on the side of its controlling form, unable to supply\nindividuality with the freedom of motion, or rather by virtue of that\nform is entirely without the higher freedom of subjectivity, and quite\nincapable of revealing the vitality and ideality proper to it.\n\n_(c) Harmony_\n\nOn a higher plane in the sphere of abstract beauty must be placed\n_harmony._ In harmony we find qualitative distinctions are held\ntogether, and further held together in a totality of differentiation,\nsuch as is based on the essential nature of the fact itself. This\nconsistency of support is derived from conformity to law, in so far\nas that form unfolds what is essentially uniformity, and thereby\npasses beyond the mere characteristics of equality and repetition.\nBut in doing this the distinctions of quality assert themselves not\nonly in their difference of opposition and contradiction, but in\naspects of a unity that rivets them together, a unity in which all\ndistinguishing features, it is true, are maintained in their proper\nplace, but still only as belonging to one single whole. This unity of\naccordance is what constitutes harmony. We may either regard it as a\ntotality of aspects essentially distinct, or as the resolution of the\nelement of mere contradiction asserted by them, revealing their more\nvital interconnection and ideal solidarity. In this sense we refer\nto the harmony of form, or colour, or musical tone. As an example,\nwe have blue, yellow, green, and red as the fundamentally necessary\ndifferentiation of colour[253].\n\nIn these irresolvable data of the spectrum we have not merely the\ninequality we found in symmetry, but contradictory opposites, such as\nyellow and blue, their neutralization and withal concrete identity.\nThe beauty of their harmony is revealed in the avoidance of their\ncrude opposition, which is softened thereby in such a way as to put\nbefore us the concordance hidden beneath their difference. They do,\nin fact, emanate from one source, namely colour, which is not an\nabstract conception[254], but an essential totality. So far, indeed,\ncan the compulsive force of such totality carry us, that we can, as\nGoethe has pointed out, when we have but one colour presented to us,\nstill subjectively recognize another at the same time. In the same\nway the tonic, mediant, and dominant are essential distinctions among\nmusical tones, which the unity of harmony associates through their\ndifference in one whole. We may submit the harmony of form, which is\ndifferentiated through the varied aspects of position, repose, and\nmotion to a similar analysis. If we suffer any one of the subordinate\ndistinctions to assume an exclusive predominance the unity which\nrelates them will be destroyed.\n\nHarmony, however, is not to be confused with free ideal subjectivity\nand soul-life. In the latter the unity manifested is not merely an\ninterconnection and concordance, but a positive negation of difference,\nwhich, for the first time, reveals their concrete and ideal unity. A\nconcrete unity such as this is not the result of harmony. Such concrete\nunity is, for example, that which we find in the actually melodious\nthing[255], which no doubt possesses harmony as its fundamental form,\nbut at the same time possesses the higher characteristic of free\nsubjectivity, and by means of song gives expression to that. Harmony\nalone has nothing to do with the appearance of subjective life, as\nsuch, nor of that of mind, although it is the highest manifestation of\nabstract form, and stands in close affinity to free subjectivity. Such,\nthen, is our determination of abstract unity as we find it brought\nbefore us in the specific modes of abstract form.\n\n2. BEAUTY AS ABSTRACT UNITY OF THE MATERIAL MEDIUM\n\nThe side of abstract unity which we have now to consider is not that\ndirectly related to form, but to the sensuous material simply in which\nit is asserted. The unity is manifested on this side as the entirely\nundifferentiated concordance of the particular sensuous material. It\nis the one form of unity, which the material of sense, in its purely\nobjective aspect, is capable of receiving. On this plane and under the\nabove noted relation[256] the abstract _purity_ of the _materia_ in\nits form, colour, or tone constitutes what is most essential to it.\nEntirely straight drawn lines, which run without a shadow of difference\nin their straightness or strength, bare superficies and similar\nexamples please us by virtue of their persistent regularity and their\nuniform homogeneousness. The purity of the heavens, the translucence\nof the atmosphere, a mirror-like lake the smoothness of the ocean's\nface, all give pleasure by virtue of this unity. We find the same\ntruth brought home to us by purity of tone. The voice when purely\nproduced, though taken quite by itself, possesses an attraction for us\ninexpressibly delightful; vocal notes which are not thus pure on the\ncontrary, by permitting us to hear the organ of production along with\nthem, disturb or weaken the pure resonance and definition of their\nmusic. In much the same way human speech possesses pure tones in its\nvowels, a, e, i, o, u, and its compound vowels, ae, \u00fc, and \u00f6. Popular\ndialects are particularly characterized by impurity of vocalization\nand mediate tones such as oa. Purity of tones consists further in this\nthat the vowels are associated with consonants, whose sound does not\ntend to blurr the sonority of the vowel tones, as is too frequently the\ncase with our northern languages, when contrasted with the way in which\ntheir purity is preserved by the Italian, a characteristic which makes\nthat language so adaptable to singing. We experience an enjoyment of\nsimilar nature through the sight of colour in its simplest purity of\ntint, an absolutely pure red or blue for example, not by any means a\ncommon occurrence, such pristine colours being often weakened through\nthe addition to them of yellow or tints of each other[257]. Violet can\nno doubt appear to us as a pure colour, but only in an external object,\nnot, that is to say, as a compounded colour[258], for it is not itself\nan elementary colour belonging to colour's essential differentiation.\nIt is these elementary or cardinal colours, easily recognized by sense\nin their purity, which, on account of their crude opposition, are most\ndifficult to unite together in harmony. Colours, on the contrary,\nwhich are blurred in their transparency by many other tints, although\nnot so antagonistic to general harmony, fail to give us such direct\nenjoyment from the very fact that the energy of opposition in them is\nweakened. Green, for instance, is a compound of blue and yellow, but it\nis the neutralization of these cardinal colours, and for that reason\nless attractive to us in its own purity than blue and yellow in their\nsecure[259] opposition. Such are the points of most importance we have\nto remark upon in dealing with the abstract unity of form no less than\nthe simplicity and purity of the sensuous material. In whichever aspect\nwe regard our subject-matter we have to review that which is by virtue\nof its abstract character destitute of life, and a unity with no true\nactuality. Ideal subjectivity is inseparable from this, and such is\nentirely absent from the beauty of Nature even at the highest potency\nof its manifestation. This essential defect points us imperatively\nforward to the Ideal, which Nature is unable to reveal to us, and in\ncontrast with which the beauty of Nature appears as a subordinate mode.\n\nC. DEFECTIVE ASPECTS OF THE BEAUTY OF NATURE\n\nThe true object of our inquiry is the beauty of art viewed as the only\nreality adequate to the Idea of beauty. We have hitherto treated the\nbeauty of Nature as the first mode of the existence of the beautiful.\nWe have now to inquire more closely into that which distinguishes\nnatural beauty from that of art.\n\nAs an abstract proposition we may affirm that the Ideal is beauty in\nits rounded completeness. Nature, on the contrary, brings before us\nbeauty in its incompleteness. Such abstract predicates do not, however,\nhelp us much, for our real problem is rather to explain exactly what\nit is which makes the difference between the completeness of the one\nfrom the incompleteness of the other. Our inquiry therefore hinges on\nthe question how it comes about that Nature is necessarily incomplete\nas a mode of beauty and how this incompleteness is asserted. When we\nhave answered that we shall be in a better position to deduce both the\nnecessity and essential significance of the Ideal.\n\nWe have already in following the process of Nature up to its\nculminating manifestation in animal life drawn attention to the modes\nof beauty revealed in that process. It is now of the first importance\nthat we fix our attention more definitely on the culminating phase of\nthat evolution where we find subjectivity and individuality presented\nto us in the living organism.\n\nWe have already referred to the beautiful as the Idea in a manner\nidentical to that we employ when we speak of the good and true as the\nIdea, in the sense, that is to say, where we characterize the Idea as\nthe wholly substantial and universal, the absolute substance--with no\nsensuous material therewith--of reality, in short, the consistency\nof the world. Determined more strictly, however, as already pointed\nout, the Idea is not merely substantiality and _universality_, but\nthe unity of the _notion_ and its _reality_, just that, the notion\nrevealed to us as notion in its coincident objectivity. It was Plato\nwho, as we have remarked in our introduction, posited the Idea as\nthat which was alone true and universal, and, indeed, as the one\n_concrete_ Universal. The Platonic _Idea_ is, however, not itself as\nyet the concrete _real_, for apprehended under the _notion_ and its\n_universality_ it is already coincident with the real. Apprehended,\nhowever, only in its _universality_[260], it is not _realized_,\nrealized, that is to say, as Truth in its self-determinate realization.\nIt is still only the _potency_ of such self-realization. But just\nas the notion is not the notion of real existence without its full\nobjectivity, in the same way the Idea without its realization in the\nobjective world is not the Idea in its Truth as existent reality. The\nIdea must proceed to such realization, which is only present itself\nfor the first time in a really existent subjectivity adequate to the\nnotion, and its ideal unity and self-determination. In the generic\nspecies we find its reality first manifested as free and concrete\nindividuality. Life only exists as a _living thing_; goodness is only\nrealized in _particular_ men; and all truth is simply the consciousness\nof _knowledge_--Spirit which has come to its own vital inheritance.\nOnly the concrete singularity is both true and really existent, mere\nabstract universality and particularity is not so. This self-subsistent\nactuality, this subjectivity is the point on which everything turns,\nand which we must fully grasp in its significance. Subjectivity may be\ndefined as ideal determination by virtue of a principle of ideal unity\nwhich asserts itself through _negation_ of the differences presented\nto it as consistent parts of one objective reality[261]. The unity of\nthe Idea and its realization is the _negative_ unity of the _Idea_\nas such and its _reality_; it is at once and at the same time the\n_subsumption_ and _deposition_ in a unified content of the difference\nasserted on either side. Only in this active process is the unity of\nthe Idea affirmatively determined in its full activity, a unity and\nsubjectivity whose process of self-determination is infinite. We have\nconsequently to apprehend the Idea of the beautiful in its realized\nmode of existence as essentially concrete subjectivity and, moreover,\nas individual substantiality, by virtue of which it is the Idea really\nexistent, possessing the form of its reality in concrete and individual\nsingularity.\n\nBut here we must distinguish between _two_ distinct modes of\nsingularity or individuality, namely, that which is immediately\npresented us by _Nature_ and that which is predicated of _mind_\n(spirit). In both forms it is given determinate existence, and\nconsequently is in both substantive content, the Idea in short, and\nin the particular sphere of our inquiry for both forms the Idea\nas beauty. Viewed in this way we may affirm if we please that the\nbeautiful of Nature has a _similar_ content with that of the Ideal. In\ncontradistinction, however, to such a point of view we must not fail to\nobserve that the difference of form, in which the Idea herein attains\nreality, that is to say the difference between the individuality\nwhich prevails in the spheres of Nature and Spirit, the difference\nasserted in its respective appearance, this it is which constitutes an\n_essential distinction._ As we shall see, the real point of our inquiry\nis this, namely, which of these two forms is really the one most\nadequate to the Idea, for it is obvious that it is only in the entirely\nadequate form that the totality of the Idea is _in its full content_\nexplicitly realized. This is the more immediate point we have now to\nexamine in so far as the difference between natural beauty and the\nIdeal falls into line with the formal differentiation of singularity.\n\n_Immediate_ singularity is no doubt primarily found in the domain of\nSpirit no less than in Nature as such. For, in the first place, Spirit\nis possessed of an external existence in bodily form; secondly, even\nin spiritual relations, Spirit, in the first instance, only exists in\nits union with immediate reality. Subdividing our inquiry in conformity\nwith such facts, we will consider the nature of immediate singularity\nfrom _three_ different points of view.\n\n1. (_a_) We have already seen that the animal organism preserves its\ndeterminate existence through a persistent evolutionary process of\nits own in opposition to an environing inorganic Nature, which it\nassimilates by means of consumption and digestion, compelling thereby\nwhat is external to submit to that process, and asserting its own\nindependent existence by so doing. We found at the same time that\nthis living process is a system of activities, which is realized in\na system of organs, whose functional action consists in those very\nactivities. The one and single aim of this homogeneous system is\nthe self-preservation of the living totality thereof through such a\nprocess. The animal life consists, therefore, in a life of sensuous\nimpulses, whose general course and satisfaction is realized in the\nabove-mentioned organic system. The living organism is for this reason\narticulated in its parts under a _teleological principle_, and the\nprinciple or end subserved is self-preservation. Life is immanent in\nevery member; they are united to life, and life is one with them. And\nthe net result of this animate process is that the animal is maintained\nas a thing conscious of itself as an individual subject of feeling,\nlife and the self-enjoyment its singularity procures for it. We have\nonly to compare animal life with plant life to see the difference\nimplied in the absence of such a sense-consciousness. The plant simply\nbrings to the birth new specimens of its species, without even being\nable to concentrate any single one on that point of negation, which\nconstitutes self-singularity. We must, however, add that even in the\nanimal organism and its life we never have actually before our eyes the\ntrue manifestation of this _centre of unity_, but rather simply the\n_manifold_ of its members. Life is still too deficient on the side of\nfreedom and in opposition to the mere caprice of sense-life to manifest\nsuch a subjective individuality as is capable of breaking through the\nexternal envisagement of its organic parts. The vital centre of such\nactivities in the animal organism still remains veiled from vision, and\nall that we see are the mere outlines of the figure, and this for the\nmost part concealed from our view by feathers, scales, hair, fur, or\nspines. There can be no question that coverings of this nature, though\ncharacteristic of the animal world, are coverings which partake of the\nform of the vegetable world. And it is precisely at this point that\nthe beauty of animal life declares its essential insufficiency. That\nwhich the organism makes most visible to us is not the soul-principle.\nThat which is directed outward and throughout appears is not the life\nwithin, but rather formations accepted from a lower plane of existence\nthan the essential embodiment of life. The animal is _only_ fully alive\nbeneath that outer crust, and consequently for this very reason that\nits _inwardness_[262] is not wholly made real in a form adequate to\nreveal it, we are unable to see the principle of Life everywhere shine\nfreely through it; it remains _only_ an _inwardness_, and the shell is\n_external only_ unpermeated by the vital principle.\n\n(_b_) The _human_ body, in virtue of its more exalted station, presents\nus with a striking contrast. In this we are everywhere reminded that\nman is in possession of a unity of feeling, a soul. The human skin\nis not covered over plant-like with an apparently lifeless sheath;\nthe pulsation of the blood is visible throughout the entire surface;\nthe beating heart of life is everywhere at the same time apparent;\nand we have in this outward manifestation, as it were, the real\nfount Of life made visible, the _turgor vitae_ as it streams from\nits centre. In the same way the human skin, sensitive throughout in\nits minutest parts, reveals to us the _morbidezza_ of its colouring,\nthose tints of flesh-colour and vein-colour which are the despair of\nan artist. On the other hand, however much the human body presents,\nas the apparent mirror of Life, a contrast with that of animals, it\nundoubtedly expresses also the natural process of self-preservation in\nthe subdivision of the skin, and the indentations, wrinkles, pores,\nsmall hairs and veins which we find attach thereto. In fact the skin\nitself, though permitting the inner life to shine through it, is\nnone the less an external protection of that life, a means obviously\nintended for such self-preservation. The supreme significance, however,\nof the contrast here presented is traceable in this extraordinary\nsensitiveness of the human cuticle, which, although not absolutely\nthe seat of feeling itself, alone renders such feeling possible. But\nat the same time even in this direction we are made conscious of the\ndefect, that this sensitiveness does not penetrate as a vital impulse\nof concentrated emphasis equally through all the members. We find in\nthe human body itself certain organs whose form is entirely appropriate\nto mere animal functions, while others give a more adequate expression\nto the entire soul-life, its feelings and passions. Regarded in this\nway it is obvious that even in the human body the inner life of soul\nhas not found its complete reflection in all parts of its external\nrealization.\n\n(_c_) The same defect is apparent on the higher plane of the\n_spiritual_ world and its organizations, if we consider such under\nthe aspect of life as immediately presented. The more extensive and\nthe richer their configurations are, the more we shall find that the\nfundamental object of the inner life of such totalities requires other\nmeans co-operative with such externality for its adequate expression.\nSuch organizations no doubt appear in immediate reality as organic\nwholes in which definite purpose is realized, and the realization of\nsuch purpose is manifested by the mediation of voluntary effort. Every\ncentre of such a spiritual organism, such as the State or the family,\nthat is to say each individual organic totality, is in possession of a\n_will_ capable of such exercise, and appears in unity with the other\nmembers of the same organism; but the _one_ inner soul of this nexus,\nthe freedom and reason of the aim of all is not visible in external\nreality as such in the absolute freedom of its subjective and universal\nprinciple of life, nor is it thus manifested in every part.\n\nThe same thing may be observed in particular actions and events, where\nwe find a similar organic totality present. The inner motive from which\nthey proceed is not wholly made visible upon the external surface\nof their actual presence. What we do find is a total presentment of\n_fact_, whose most fundamental ground of unity and vitality still\nremains _hidden from sight._\n\nFinally, when we consider from the same point of view any single\nindividual we are confronted with the same truth. Every human person\nis a self-rounded totality, held together by the central unity of\nlife. In the immediate envisagement of reality, that is in his life,\naction, avoidance of action, desires and impulses, he only appears in\na fragmentary way; none the less it is only from a general survey of\nall his actions or sufferings that we are able to form an estimate\nof character. The centre of unity which thus concentrates to a point\nthe entire subject-matter of our extended survey is not as such either\nvisible or directly apprehended.\n\n2. The second point of importance to which we would draw attention\nis this. With the immediate appearance of individuality the Idea, as\nwe have already indicated, receives determinate existence. Through\nthis very immediacy however it becomes interwoven with the complexity\nof the external world, is conditioned by the limitations of external\ncircumstance and the relative character of means and ends which are\nfound there, in one word is carried into the finitude of external\nNature. For though immediate singularity is in the first place a fully\nrounded off unity, it is for the same reason only self-exclusive\nas a centre of negation opposed to _others_, and is, by virtue of\nits immediate singularity, influenced by, no less than related to,\na totality of real existence other than its own, upon which it is\ndependent in a thousand different ways. The Idea, in short, is in this\nvery immediacy realized in every direction as _individual distinction._\nIt is consequently now merely a reflex of the inherent energy of the\nnotion which binds all individual existence, that of Nature no less\nthan mind in reciprocal correlation[263]. Such a relation to the\nexistences themselves is a purely external one, and appears also to\nthem as a single _external necessity_ uniting each part of the manifold\nin one shifting complexus of interrelated reciprocity. The immediacy\nof determinate existence is therefore, as thus regarded, a system of\nnecessary relations between apparently self-subsistent individual\nthings and forces, in which each singular entity is committed as a\nmeans to the service of ends foreign to it, or itself is compelled to\nutilize that which is external to itself as such a means. And inasmuch\nas the Idea is under this aspect wholly realized on the ground of\nexternality, there appears at the same time the unrestrained play of\nevery caprice and accident, no less than the uncontrolled discharge of\nthe burden of indigence. Singularity as immediate appearance lives and\nmoves in the realm of unfreedom.\n\n(_a_) The individual _animal_ is, for example, fettered wholly within\nthe bounds of its natural environment of air, water and land. Its\nentire way of living, the mode of its self-nourishment, everything that\nconcerns it, is thereby determined. It is this which differentiates\nwith such variety the species of animal life. We find, moreover,\nintermediate strains, such as swimming birds and suckling animals,\nwhich live in the water, amphibious species and others which still\nfurther mediate between the more obviously generic. These are,\nhowever, mere confusions of race, and indicate no higher mediation\nof considerable range. Throughout we find the animal subject in its\nself-preservation to the absolute necessities of external nature, cold,\ndrought, or insufficient supply of the means of nourishment. Under this\ndespotic dominion it is liable through the parsimony of circumstance to\nlose the fulness of external form, the blossom of its beauty, in short\nto become as it were the reflex of starving Nature herself. External\nconditions fix imperatively the measure of beauty it either preserves\nor forfeits.\n\n(_b_) The human organism, in its particular bodily existence is\nsubject, if not in the same measure, to external forces of Nature, and\nis compelled to face the same contingencies, deficient livelihoods, and\nevery kind of harassing disease and misery.\n\n(_c_) If we carry investigation further to that still higher plane\nof immediate reality where _spiritual_ interests are predominant we\nshall find this dependence on external condition for the first time\nemphasized in its full relativity. Here we are face to face with the\nprose of human existence in its entire length and breadth. The contrast\nalready noticed between ends subservient to purely physical wants, and\nthose profounder aims of spiritual life, and the conflict which tends\nto inflict a loss on one side or the other, already opens our view of\nit. Add to this every individual man, in order to preserve himself as\nsuch, is compelled to make himself in many ways subservient to others,\nand the limited aims of others, and on the other hand, in order to\nsatisfy his own narrow interests, to accept the service of others as a\nmere means for their fulfilment. The individual, then, as he appears\nin the prose-life of everyday existence, is not therefore active\nout of his own particular totality, nor is he intelligible so much\nin virtue of himself as in virtue of that which he is not[264]. For\nindividual man stands in a relation of dependence to the influences,\nlaws, organizations and other social relations of civic life which\nhe finds already existing around him, and to which he must submit\nwhether he forfeit his own independent soul-life thereby or not. And\nmore than this, each separate individual is not presented to others\nas such totality, but is only reflected in whatever isolated interest\nthey may happen at the time to possess in his actions, desires, and\nopinions. And what interests mankind mainly is some relation to\ntheir own particular thoughts and aims. Even historically important\nactions and events, with which the community is expressly associated,\nappear in this field of relative appearances merely as a manifold of\nisolated efforts. It is a varied collection to which each contributes\nas he may, with aims by no means identical, some of which meet with\nsuccess while others miscarry, and indeed, be they ever so fortunate,\nare significant in a very subordinate degree if we consider them as\ncontributions to the wellbeing of all. What the majority may carry\nthrough, in contrast with the entire aggregate of events and the end\napplicable to all[265], to which it furnishes its quota, is after all\na mere patch; nay, even men of eminent standing, who feel and are\nfully conscious of the universal passage of events[266], as their own\nworld, are for all that clearly immeshed in the same net of particular\ncircumstances, conditions, and a thousand other hindrances involved\nin their relative position. On all these grounds it is plain that in\nthis sphere of exterior life the individual world is unable to offer\nus the vision of that independent and complete freedom of the living\nprinciple, such as is essential to the true notion of beauty. It is,\nof course, true that the immediate appearance of human reality and\nits events and organizations is not without system, and as such is a\ntotality of activities; but this whole is rather in its appearance a\nmere mass of isolated fragments. Moreover the practical concerns of\nsuch activities are divided and subdivided into countless parts, and in\nsuch a way that each single part is in touch with the merest fraction\nof all; and, in short, however much individuals may remain steadfast to\ntheir own purposes, and only bring forth to the light that which their\nown interest has employed as a means, the self-subsistence and freedom\nof their will remains more or less of a formal character, determined by\nexternal circumstance or accident, and constantly thwarted by natural\ncauses[267].\n\nThis is the prose of the world, as presented to our own consciousness\nno less than to that of others; a world of finitude and change, a world\nimmeshed in relation and submerged beneath the pressure of necessity,\na world from which no individual can extricate himself. The central\nparadox of life confronts every unit of the living whole. On the one\nhand there is the impulse of individuality to perfect its isolated\nunity in self-exclusion; on the other there is the necessary condition\nof dependence on others from which none may claim immunity. However\nprolonged the struggle to overcome this contradiction may be the effort\nof that interminable battle only terminates with life itself.\n\n3. Thirdly, the immediate singularity of the worlds of Nature and Mind\nis not merely conditioned by dependence on others, but is deficient in\nany complete self-subsistency owing to its _confined_ nature, or with\nmore accuracy, because it is particularized in its own specific mode of\nmanifestation.\n\n(_a_) We will explain our meaning further. Every single specimen of\nlife in the animal world is from the first fettered by a definite,\nthat is to say, a restricted and constant species, beyond the limits\nof which it cannot pass. There is in the spiritual world, no doubt, a\ngeneral picture of life and its organization, which floats vaguely\nbefore our vision; but in the real world, which is one with Nature,\nthis universal organism breaks up into a multitude of particulars,\neach of which possesses the determinate type of form and grade of\ncultivation in which it is related to a definite portion of the\nsocial organism. In addition to this and within these insuperable\nlimits, we find the pressure of that element of contingency, as\nregards general condition or external environment, predominantly\nasserted both uniquely and in haphazard fashion throughout every one\nof those individual units. Such a state of things disturbs our vision\nof the self-subsistency and freedom, which the idea of true beauty\nimperatively requires.\n\n(_b_) As already observed, it is unquestionably true that Spirit\ndiscovers in its own bodily organism the notion of life completely\nrealized. This is so much the case that, in contrast with it, the forms\nof the animal world appear not only as incomplete, but in inferior\nspecies as even pitiable objects. The human organism is also, however,\nbroken up, if to a less, degree, in racial subdivisions and the\nascending grades of beauty which distinguish such races. Moreover, in\naddition to this obviously very general line of demarcation, we have\npresented to us all the accidental variety of qualities, peculiar to\ndistinct families and their interfusion with one another, such as modes\nof life, facial expression, and general demeanour. We must further\nassociate with such characteristic traits, which all of them emphasize\na condition of essentially unfree particularity, those peculiarities\nwhich are inseparable from activity employed in the endless round of\ncommercial life or professional career; qualities which find their\nultimate expression in the specific habits or idiosyncracies of any\nexceptionally marked character or temperament, or, as the reverse side\nof the picture, in the various confusions of arrested development.\nPoverty, care, anger, coldness, and indifference, the rage of passion,\nthe obstinate retention of narrow purposes, indications of change\nand division in the spiritual world, entire dependence on that of\nNature--in one word all that is implied in the transitory condition of\nhuman life--leaves its indelible, if quite incalculable, expression\non the varied surface of the faces of mankind. Who has not crossed\nweather-beaten types of such, on which the storm of all the passions\nhas imprinted its disturbing wave; or others, where the coldness and\nsuperficiality of the soul within is all the impression we receive; or,\nlastly, as the final verdict of self-absorbed particularity[268], cases\nin which the general type seems almost totally to have disappeared.\nThere is no end to the caprice of the human features. Speaking\ngenerally, we would associate with this ground the fact that the beauty\nof children most arrests us. In their faces we find all pronounced\nidiosyncracies slumber as it were beneath a quiet veil; no dominating\npassion as yet ravages their soul; not one of the thousand interests of\nthe grown man has engraved for ever the expression of its necessity on\nthese mobile features. This envisaged innocence of the child, however,\nthough we may discover in its flexible animation the possibility of\nLife's completed fulness, obviously fails to reveal those profounder\nindications of a spirit which has been carried forward to explore\nthe range of its own recesses and to make its life one with rational\npurpose.\n\nWe may regard, then, immediate existence, both in the purely physical\nand spiritual sense of the term, as a _finitude_, or more justly as a\nfinitude which does not satisfy its notion and for this very reason\ndeclares its finitude. For the notion, and more concretely still, the\nIdea, is essentially _independent_ and _free._ Purely animal life,\nalthough as Life it is the Idea, is no manifestation of infinity as\nsuch or freedom. This is alone possible under conditions, where we find\nthe notion penetrate so completely the reality which is adequate to\nit, that it finds itself entirely at home therein, with no extraneous\nmatter, to disturb its possession. Then alone do we find it a really\nfree and concrete individuality. The natural life, on the contrary,\nis unable to overcome the element of feeling to which it is attached,\nand which renders it incapable of penetrating the entire reality\nwhich enrings it. It finds itself, moreover, immediately conditioned\nin itself, restricted in its range and dependent, a result which is\ndue to the fact that its freedom is not truly self-determinate, but\nconditioned by the external: object. And the same thing is true of the\nimmediate and finite reality of the spirit world in its knowledge,\nvolitional action, and fateful history. For although in this latter\ncase we find centres of unity expressed which have a real significance,\nneither these any more than the particularities they unite have truth\nas they stand by themselves; but only that truth which, in their\nreciprocal relation to each other, they manifest as constituent\nparts of a whole. And this whole, albeit in a sense adequate to its\nnotion, does not correspond to it in such a way as to manifest itself\nin its full totality[269], which consequently still remains aloof\nfrom such envisagement, or rather, is only apprehended in the ideal\nworld of thought. In other words, the notion finds no fully adequate\npresentation in external reality, such as is powerful enough to marshal\nhomogeneously all the numberless fragments of particularity, and to\nconcentrate them into _one_ expression and _one_ single form.\n\n(_c_) This, then, is the fundamental reason which prevents Spirit\nitself, on the finite planes of determinate existence, and under\nthe restricting conditions of its externality and necessity, from\nrediscovering the immediate vision and enjoyment of its freedom. It\nis consequently driven by its absence to seek that vision in a higher\nsphere. That sphere is art, and its realization is the Ideal.\n\nWe have thus seen that it is the defects of immediate reality which\ndrive us forward inevitably to the idea of the beauty of art. We are\nfurther under an obligation to prove that its fundamental object[270]\nis to manifest here on this very plane of rational reality and in its\nfreedom the envisagement of life, and, most important of all, the life\nof Spirit. Here, then, we have at last the external revealed to us in a\nform adequate to the notion. Here, for the first time, truth is lifted\nup from its environment of temporal conditions, from its running to\nand fro among the whirl of finite particularity, and attains repose;\nnay, more than this, discovers an external form, from which the hunger\nof Nature and the prose of life no longer stare at us. Here at last we\nhave a form worthy of substantial truth, which is wholly self-contained\nand self-dependent, determining with freedom its own content, and not\ndriven from such self-assertion by the weight of that of others.\n\n[Footnote 201: _Als Beseelung sich kund g\u00e4be._ The reference is to\nthe second class which follows rather than truly animates life. The\nsun is such an animating principle. How far modern physics with its\ninvestigations of the laws of motion that obtain among the chemical\natoms of any specific form of matter and its denial of all dead matter\nwould have modified Hegel's view is an interesting question.]\n\n[Footnote 202: _Wir wollen betrachten._ Hegel seems to be conscious\nhimself that there is something fanciful in this interpretation of the\nsignificance of what is simply an arbitrary, if systematic, arrangement\nof bodies according to natural laws.]\n\n[Footnote 203: _Ein besonderes Moment._ See note [191] on p. 152. I\nthink what Hegel means here is that every body as a vehicle of light\nreflects the mode in which the identity of the notion as system in the\ndifferent parts asserts itself.]\n\n[Footnote 204: In other words what should be phasal elements\n(_Momente_) of a whole integrated within that unity remain independent\nunits. They are not Momente in the full sense.]\n\n[Footnote 205: _Als bloss real unterschiedener._ The meaning is that\nthe distinction is only in the totality, not as in the former case in a\nbody which though part of a system, could be viewed as an independent\nbody like the sun.]\n\n[Footnote 206: _Gew\u00f6hnliches Bewustseyn_, _i.e._, the ordinary view of\nunderstanding (_Verstand_) and sense-perception.]\n\n[Footnote 207: _Blosser Zusammenhang._ Fortuitous is rather too strong.\nHe means a bond of union cemented by one principle without which either\nside fails to possess its specific character, _e.g._, the human body\napart from the human soul its animate individuality, ceases to be\nhuman.]\n\n[Footnote 208: _Als Begriff seyende Begriff._ The reference I take to\nbe to the logical or dialectical movement of the Idea.]\n\n[Footnote 209: _Viele tausend empfindende_, or centres of feeling.]\n\n[Footnote 210: _Die realen Unterschiede_, _i. e._, the distinctions of\nthe body viewed as part of the physical process of Nature.]\n\n[Footnote 211: _Zu ihrer subjektiven Einheit_, that is to say, their\nunity with the notion of Life as objectively realized in Nature,\nsubjective only in the sense that it is ideal, not apprehended by\nsense-perception as such.]\n\n[Footnote 212: _N\u00e4here._ I think Hegel uses _n\u00e4he_ in the idiomatic\nsense in which he uses it in the phrase (p. 150) when he speaks of\nNature as _das n\u00e4chst Daseyn der Idee_, _i.e._, most elementary, more\nnear to it when the notion first presses out of abstraction into\ntotality.]\n\n[Footnote 213: L\u00f6tze apparently disputes this distinction, but it\nappears to me very clear.]\n\n[Footnote 214: _Seyn._ The logical terms are here employed in their\ntechnical Hegelian sense. _Seyn_ is \"being\" as part of a process, it\nis rather a tendency to become than a particular or determinate being\n(_daseyn._)]\n\n[Footnote 215: _Das Negiren_, the negation of them as entirely\nindependent structures.]\n\n[Footnote 216: _Des Idealisirens_, _e.g._, the principle of ideality\nwhich is in one aspect of it negation.]\n\n[Footnote 217: _Affirmatives F\u00fcrsichseyn_, _e.g._, the explicit ideal\ntotality of Life apart from the process.]\n\n[Footnote 218: _Bilderin._]\n\n[Footnote 219: _Das Innere_, otherwise called subjective (see note\nabove) and meaning what is not externally visible as _materia_, though\nit may be visible indirectly as explained further on.]\n\n[Footnote 220: The rather difficult German here is: _Da nun aber in\nder Objektivit\u00e4t der Begriff als Begriff die sich auf sich beziehende\nin ihrer Realit\u00e4t f\u00fcr sich seyende Subjektivit\u00e4t ist._ The comma after\n_Begriff_ is clearly a misprint.]\n\n[Footnote 221: The words here are _das subjektive F\u00fcrsichseyn_, _i.e._,\nthe self-conclusion of an explicit whole in virtue of a principle of\nideal unity (_i.e._, life) asserted, throughout.]\n\n[Footnote 222: _Ein Beharrendes_,> one that persists in an inert form.]\n\n[Footnote 223: Hegel uses the word _scheinen_ both for the ideal\nmanifestation of the Idea in the object and the appearance of material\nreality reduced by it to mere \"show\" (_herabgesetzt zum scheinen_),\n_i.e._, deprived of its independent reality. This introduces a slight\nconfusion I have endeavoured to avoid by using different terms.]\n\n[Footnote 224: _Unseres Verstandes._ We supply the notion of\nintelligent purpose.]\n\n[Footnote 225: That is, the assumed subordination of all organs to one\ndefinite end.]\n\n[Footnote 226: _Sichbewegens._ The emphasis is of course on the self.\nBut even then the statement is rather an excess. For it seems difficult\nto attribute all the beauty visible in the spontaneous movements of so\nmany living creatures, notably that of birds, to their purely formal\ncharacter. At least there is something given by such motion analogous\nto the impression we receive from music and the dance; they are\n_gesetzm\u00e4ssig_ in short.]\n\n[Footnote 227: _Zuf\u00e4llig_--capricious as opposed to a uniform\nprinciple. There is, however, one apparent bond of external similarity,\nbetween the majority of such members, namely, their covering of skin;\nthis not merely relates the cheek to the neck, for example, but to some\nextent destroys the distinction.]\n\n[Footnote 228: Physical parts, that is to say.]\n\n[Footnote 229: That is to say, it is based on a purely limited\nexperience which does not necessarily concern the true nature of the\nobjects perceived.]\n\n[Footnote 230: _Stangen._ The word may express the branches on which\nthe flowers are carried or the stamens they carry at their apex.]\n\n[Footnote 231: _Geistreich_, \"intelligent,\" _i.e._, an ingenious way of\nregarding such facts.]\n\n[Footnote 232: _Dies wunderbare Wort._]\n\n[Footnote 233: The use of the word _Sinn_ to which Hegel here alludes\nis not quite identical with our word _Sense._ In the English use\nof the term there is more stress on the _materia_ presented to\nsense-perception and perhaps less reference to intellect when the word\nis employed in such an expression as \"That man has sense.\" However,\nMilton has \"What surmounts the reach of human sense,\" and no doubt both\nare employed very similarly in many writers.]\n\n[Footnote 234: _Bleibt bei der Ahnung._]\n\n[Footnote 235: _Naiver Weise_, a common epithet of Hegel to denote\nfreedom from all philosophical prepossessions, a frank and simple\nattitude of reception.]\n\n[Footnote 236: _Betrachtung_ appears to imply in its contrast with\n_Anschauung_ the presence of that intuitive sense or imaginative\nco-ordination above discussed.]\n\n[Footnote 237: _Gestaltende Macht_, _i.e._, plastic force.]\n\n[Footnote 238: This account of the criterium to be adopted in\ndetermining beauty in the animal creation is open to some criticism.\nMobility is no doubt one element of beauty, but it is only one.\nProfessor Bosanquet points out in his criticism of the passage (\"Hist,\nof Aesthetik,\" p. 338) that it amounts to the assertion that ugliness\nis purely relative. The defect is not only due, it seems to me, to\nHegel's insufficient regard for Nature as a modern painter would so\nregard it, but it may be traced also to his manifest preference for\nmotion in all the manifestations of Nature.]\n\n[Footnote 239: _Schnabelthier_, otherwise called the _duck-billed\nplatyptis_, a mammal found in Australia, much the size of an otter,\nwith the horny beak of a duck and paws formed for swimming.]\n\n[Footnote 240: _Getr\u00fcbt_, we have the word _tr\u00fcben_ above, translated\nthere \"troubled,\" life merely seen through the thick veil of\ninstinctive sense.]\n\n[Footnote 241: That is, the unity manifested is as abstract from all\nconcrete totality as the form itself.]\n\n[Footnote 242: This shows clearly that symmetry is only in an analogous\nway applicable to musical tones.]\n\n[Footnote 243: In other words, uniformity is outside the purely\nqualitative relation, whereas symmetry is not so.]\n\n[Footnote 244: _Beseelte Lebendigkeit_, lit., the insouled\nlife-principle.]\n\n[Footnote 245: Lit., \"Is continually thrust out into the external.\" Its\nactivity as life is directed outward.]\n\n[Footnote 246: _Was schon im Sichverzehren begriffen ist._ I think the\ndistinction implied is that in smell we are in actual contact with a\npart of the object. The same thing would, however, be true of sight\naccording to former theory exploded by Newton's hypothesis.]\n\n[Footnote 247: _Gesetzm\u00e4ssigkeit._ I cannot think of an English word\nthat quite reproduces it. I am not sure that either conformity to rule\nor law singly quite expresses it. It implies both.]\n\n[Footnote 248: As in uniformity.]\n\n[Footnote 249: As in symmetry.]\n\n[Footnote 250: That is to say, apart from symbolical meaning, it\npossesses no hidden law to be discovered in the relation of part to\npart.]\n\n[Footnote 251: The words are _die grosse und kleine Axe von\nwesentlichem Unterschiede._ These refer primarily, it appears, to the\naxes of an ellipse, but the expression may possibly include the axes of\na parabola parallel to the sides of a cone. However I admit frankly I\nfind the words _von wesentlichem Unterschiede_ difficult to interpret\nclosely.]\n\n[Footnote 252: In the text _grossen_, obviously a misprint.]\n\n[Footnote 253: The incorrectness of this statement according to more\nrecent analysis does not, of course, affect the argument.]\n\n[Footnote 254: _Nicht einseitig._ I think the meaning here is that\ncolour is not an abstract idea for independent qualities, but is the\ngeneric notion of a really existing totality.]\n\n[Footnote 255: _Alles melodische_, primarily, organic, of course.]\n\n[Footnote 256: Namely, that of abstract unity.]\n\n[Footnote 257: Hegel expresses this rather differently by saying that\nthey tend to pass over into pink (_r\u00f6thliche_) or orange (_gelbliche_)\nand green. I have put the same statement rather more directly.]\n\n[Footnote 258: I think this is the meaning of the words _aber nur\n\u00e4usserlich, d.h._, _nicht beschm\u00fctzt._ Violet, however, is now regarded\nas a cardinal colour. It may also be doubted whether the difficulty of\nharmonizing pure colour is as Hegel states it.]\n\n[Footnote 259: This of course is a very questionable position from the\npoint of view of aesthetic taste no less than the conformity of our\nsight to natural objects. The obvious retort is, it all depends what\nthe nature of the green is. Why is there such a preponderance of green\nin Nature as we find it?]\n\n[Footnote 260: That is to say, under the Platonic view of universal.]\n\n[Footnote 261: So I have interpreted the words, _Die Subjectivit\u00e4t nun\naber liegt in der Negativen Einheit als Ideellsetzen der Unterschiede\nund ihres realen Bestehens._]\n\n[Footnote 262: _Das Insichseyn_, _i.e._, the incipient singularity of a\nfeeling subject.]\n\n[Footnote 263: I have translated the words _bleibt nur die innre Macht_\n\"merely a _reflex_ of the inherent energy,\" etc. I do not pretend\nthereby to clear up all the difficulties of this paragraph. I would\nrather remind the general reader that in this entire discussion of\nthe principle of individuality and its modes of real existence we are\nface to face with one the fundamental difficulties of the Hegelian\nphilosophy, the passage of the Idea to Nature. Readers who wish to see\ndifficulties more fully developed on this aspect of Hegel's thought\nshould read Professor Seth's interesting and on the whole moderately\nworded criticism contained in his little book \"Hegelianism and\nPersonality\" (Blackwood and Sons; see particularly Lecture IV, Thought\nand Reality).]\n\n[Footnote 264: _Aus Anderem_, _e.g._, the not-self of experience.]\n\n[Footnote 265: _Des totalen Zwecks_.]\n\n[Footnote 266: I think the expression _das Ganze der Sache_ means this\nrather than the entire \"organic whole of living reality.\"]\n\n[Footnote 267: It is well for the general reader to remember that we\nhave here no full account of what constitutes the _content_ of a free\nwill. The emphasis throughout is on human activity as exercised in a\nworld conditioned in its external aspect by necessary laws of Nature.]\n\n[Footnote 268: The reference here must I think he mainly, perhaps\nwholly, to the distorted face of the criminal, outcast, or insane\nclasses. But it is just possible that a certain type of aggressive\ngenius may also be denoted.]\n\n[Footnote 269: The totality of the notion.]\n\n[Footnote 270: _Beruf_, _i.e._, that which it professes to do.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nTHE BEAUTY OF ART, OR THE IDEAL\n\n\nIn our consideration of the beauty of art we will confine our attention\nto three fundamental points of view:\n\n_First_, the Ideal in its essential import.\n\n_Secondly_, the determination of the Ideal in a particular work of art.\n\n_Thirdly_, the creative subjectivity of the artist.\n\nA. THE IDEAL SIMPLY, OR AS SUCH\n\n1. The most general conclusion which may be gathered from the\nexamination we have already made in a merely formal way of the Ideal\nof art may be thus summarized. Truth, in its unravelment as external\nreality, is only fully in possession of a true and determinate\nexistence, however much it may combine and retain in embracing unity\na manifold content, in so far as every portion of the content thus\nunfolded permits this unity, which may be called either the animating\nsoul or the unified totality, freely to appear. To take the human form\nonce more under review as the most direct illustration of this, we have\nalready remarked that it is a totality of organic members each of which\nis penetrated by the notion, differentiated thus in every particular\norgan by some particular mode of activity and the specific motion\ncongenial to it. If we ask ourselves now in which particular organ the\nsoul appears as such in its entirety we shall at once point to the eye.\nFor in the eye the soul concentrates itself; it not merely uses the eye\nas its instrument, but is itself therein manifest. We have, however,\nalready stated, when referring to the external covering of the human\nbody, that in contrast with the bodies of animals, the heart of life\npulses through and throughout it. And in much the same sense it can\nbe asserted of art that it has to convert every point of the external\nappearance into the direct testimony of the human eye, which is the\nsource of soul-life, and reveals Spirit. Take the famous adjuration of\nPlato to the stars in the lines:\n\n     When thou gazest forth at the stars, my star,\n     Would that I were the heavens and thence on thee\n     Could gaze forth out of a thousand eyes.\n\nConversely we may exclaim that art gives to her forms the dilation\nof a thousand-eyed Argus, through which the inward life of Spirit at\nevery point breaks into view. And not merely is it the bodily form,\nthe expression of countenance, the attitude and demeanour which thus\navails; the same appearance is everywhere visible in actions and\nevents, speech and voice-modulation, in short, under every condition of\nlife through which it passes, and under which it is possible for soul\nto make itself recognized in its freedom and ideal infinity.\n\n(_a_) And, in close connection with this inquiry into the\ninterpenetration through all parts of the animating soul, we may justly\nask ourselves, what precisely we understand under this conception\nof a soul which is throughout visible: or to restrict attention to\ndefinite limits we may inquire what are the specific characteristics\nof the soul whereof art reveals to us the truest manifestation. For in\nordinary parlance one refers to the animating principle[271] peculiar\nto metals, stones, wild animals, to say nothing of that belonging\nto every kind of human character and its expressions. To natural\nobjects, however, such as stones and plants, the expression \"soul\" in\nthe complete acceptation of the term above mentioned is not strictly\napplicable. Such soul as purely natural objects possess is entirely\nfinite, transitory, and rather a specific nature than a soul. The\ndeterminate individuality of such existences is consequently completely\nexposed in their finite existence; and, inasmuch as all that is\npresent there is a positive limit of restriction, such appearance as\nthere may be of a further claim to independence and freedom is only\nan appearance; ideal characteristics which may indeed be imported\ninto them from without by means of art, but are not in the nature of\nthe objects by themselves. In the same way the soul of sense-feeling,\nthrough which Nature manifests first the Life-principle only betrays\na subjective individuality, which still remains shut within itself,\nunable to assert its reality in the further sense of a return upon\nitself in a consciousness which shall attach to it the form of\ninfinity. Its content is, therefore, of a restricted nature, and its\nmanifestation in part the unrest, power of motion, sexual impulse,\nanxiety or fear of the dependent life; and, in part, it is the mere\nexpression of an _inwardness_ capable of overcoming its finitude. The\nanimating life of Spirit (mind) brings us first into contact with the\nfree infinity capable within its own external and determinate existence\nof remaining constant to the inner principle of unity, and, in the\nact of expression, still reflected back upon its ideal substance. To\nSpirit consequently is it alone permitted to impress the hall-mark of\nits infinity and free self-recurrence on its external expression, even\nthough by such expression it enters the realm of narrow boundaries.\nAt the same time we may observe that Spirit, too, is only free and\ninfinite in so far as it truly apprehends its universality, and\ndeliberately posits for itself and accepts those ends which are\nadequate to its own notion. Consequently, in so far as it fails to\ngrasp its own freedom it can only exist in a restricted content,\na character that is stunted, a temperament at once crippled and\nsuperficial. In combination with nullity of this kind the manifestation\nof Spirit must perforce remain wholly formal. We shall only find here\nthe abstract crust of self-conscious Spirit, whereof the content\ncontradicts the infinity of its freedom. Only by virtue of a genuine\nand essentially substantive content through which the restricted and\nmutable particularity derives its essential self-subsistency--so\nthat definite structure and intrinsic worth, determined limit and\nsubstantial content, are realized in one totality--is such existence\nthereby able, through the very mode of expression which confines it,\nto proclaim itself also in its universal substance of self-contained\nsoul-life. It is, in short, the province of art to comprehend and\nenunciate determinate and rational existence in its _truth_, that is to\nsay, in the form adequate to its substance, the truly explicit content.\nAnd, consequently, the truth of art cannot consist in a mere conformity\nsuch as that to which we restrict the so-called imitation of Nature;\nexternal form must express harmoniously an internal content which is in\nitself harmonious throughout, and consequently can express itself as\nsuch.\n\n(_b_) Art then, by comparing what is otherwise stained and rent\nthrough the contingent elements of external existence with the harmony\nthat is essential to its notional truth, rejects that in the world\nof appearance which it is unable to combine in such a unity, and for\nthe first time through this _purification_ reveals the Ideal. It\nis possible to regard such a result as the flattery of art, as we\nsometimes hear it said, for example, that portrait-painters flatter.\nBut even the portrait-painter, a type of art in which the Ideal is\nless prominent than in many others, should at least flatter in this\nsense, that he is bound to treat with indifference all that is merely\nthe external detail of form, texture, and colour, the mere adjuncts,\nthat is to say, of physical life such as hairs, pores, scars, and other\nexternal accidents, in his undivided effort both to apprehend and\ndeliver the subject selected in its universal character and permanent\nspiritual individuality. It is one thing to imitate a physiognomy in\nthe general outlines of purely superficial repose apparent at any time;\nit is quite another to detect and delineate the particular features\nwhich reveal the fundamental soul-life or character of the sitter.\nAs already remarked, the Ideal is only truly found when the external\npresentment is in itself a vehicle of the soul. It is one of our latest\nfashions to attempt, by means of those so-called \"living pictures,\" an\nintentional and gratifying imitation of famous masterpieces. In these\nwe find a fair reproduction of general accessories, such as grouping\nand draping; but, instead of the spiritual expression of the figures,\nhave only too often to put up with faces absolutely commonplace. Such\na defect mars the entire reproduction. The Madonnas of Raphael, on the\ncontrary, in every detail of their countenance--whether it be cheeks,\neyes, nose, or mouth--exhibit with harmonious consistency one supreme\ntype of sacred joy, the pious, modest love of a devoted mother. We may\naffirm, if we will, that all women are capable of such emotion; but, at\nany rate, not every formal shape of feminine countenance is capable of\nexpressing the depth of the same so consummately.\n\n(_c_) This reference, then, of all points of external existence to\ntheir spiritual significance, so that the external appearance unveils\nin adequate measure the spirit thereof, is just what constitutes the\nnature of the Ideal. It is, however, a \"carrying back\" into inwardness,\nin which we do not find the universal thus carried back to its\nextremest limit to the form of abstract _thought_, that is to say, but\nis rather suffered to rest halfway at the point in which we find the\npurely external and the purely inward meet together harmoniously. The\nIdeal is consequently the reality selected out of the mass of chance\nparticulars, in so far as the inner core in this external totality thus\nraised in opposition to universality is itself manifested as _living\nindividuality._[272] For the individual subjectivity, which not only\ncarries in itself a substantive content, but permits the same to appear\nin its own external appearance, stands in this central position, that\nin it all that is substantially the content is not suffered in its\nuniversal aspect to appear as an abstraction of itself, but still\nremains enclosed within the sphere of individuality, and consequently\nappears associated with a determinate existence, which now for its\npart, freed from mere finitude and transitory condition, is gathered\nup in a free and harmonious expression of most intimate soul-life.\nSchiller, in his poem \"The Ideal and Life,\" contrasts the reality and\nits pains and struggles with \"the still shadowland of Beauty.\" Such\na land of shadow is the Ideal. The _spirits_ which rise up here have\nlost in death immediate existence, are released from the hunger of\nNature, freed from the claims which fettered them in subjection to\nexternal forces and all the changes and confusions which are linked\ntogether with finite appearance. But however much the Ideal treads\nunder foot the mere object of sense and natural form, it draws at the\nsame time the very wealth of it to itself, for it is art that is able\nto assign the very limits to all that the external appearance required\nfor its self-preservation within which the external thing may appear\nas the manifestation of spiritual freedom. For this reason it is the\nIdeal which alone among things envisaged to sense presents a free and\nself-contained content reposing on its own resources, in complete\nsensuous enjoyment and satisfaction with itself. The music of this\nrapture may be heard through every embodiment of the Ideal. However far\nthe external form may be carried the soul of the Ideal is never wholly\nabsorbed in it. And in truth such manifestation is only beautiful in so\nfar as its beauty not merely permeates the whole, but is a subjective\nunity, by virtue of which the subject-matter of the Ideal must appear\nemergent from all the fracture of its former individual parts and their\nrespective ends and energies, raised in the Ideal itself to a higher\ntotality and self-subsistence.\n\n(_\u03b1_) We may in this respect point to the blessed repose[273], this\nself-contentment in its own self-secure consummation, as the crown of\nthe Ideal. The ideal form of art stands like some blissful god before\nus. For the blessed gods are ultimately above and beyond the grim\nearnest of actual necessity, anger, and interest in finite existence\nand purely finite ends; and this positive withdrawal involved in the\nnegation of all isolated particularity give them the characteristics of\ncheerfulness and repose. In this sense we may interpret that phrase of\nSchiller: \"Life is earnest, Art is _cheerful._\" Pedants, no doubt, have\noften enough cracked a joke over it, inasmuch as poetry in general,\nand Schiller's in particular, is a serious matter; and in truth no\nideal art is without such a quality; but for all that in this very\nearnestness the essential character of cheerfulness[274] remains. This\nforce of individuality, this triumph of self-concentrated freedom, is\nthat which we recognize in an exceptional degree in ancient works of\nart and the blithesome repose of their figures. And this is not merely\nthe case when we face a satisfaction that involves no struggle, but\neven in an example where the subject is rent by some breach in the\nentire content of its existence. For when the heroes of tragedy are\nrepresented as subject to Fate we find that the demeanour they present,\nwhich may be summed up in the words, \"It is so!\" still remains a simple\nwithdrawal into personality[275]. The subject thus depicted remains\nthroughout true to himself. He surrenders that which is seized from\nhim, but the aims he pursued are not simply taken away; he suffers them\nto lapse and consequently does not lose his initiative. The man who is\nthe bondman of Destiny may lose his life, but not his freedom. This\nrepose on the essential birthright of Spirit is that which is able to\npreserve and reveal the blithe atmosphere of repose in grief itself.\n\n(_\u03b2_) In romantic art, it is true, the breach or dissonance of the\nsubjective principle is carried further, inasmuch as in it the\nexposed contradictions are emphasized and their division can be\npreserved. Thus, to take an example, we find the art of painting, in\nits representation of the Passion, not unfrequently dallies round\nthe expression of ribaldry visible in the hideous contortions and\ngrimaces of tormenting common soldiers; and, in its attachment to\nsuch discordant emotions, especially when depicting what is criminal,\nshameless, or evil, permitting the glad serenity of the Ideal to pass\naway. Even when such disruption loses its force, we find frequently\nthat ugliness, or, at least, the absence of real beauty, is set up in\nits place. In another school of the earlier Flemish art of painting\nthe downright directness and truth of the representation, no less than\nthe inextinguishable confidence of the faith to which it testifies,\ntend to assert, in despite of itself, a reconciliation in the feelings\nof all who behold it[276]. But such an unyielding result falls[277]\nshort of the entire cheerfulness and satisfaction appropriate to the\nIdeal. However, it is possible also in romantic art, albeit here\nthe representation of suffering and grief penetrates the soul and\nits emotions more deeply than is the case with antique art, that\nthe delineation may reveal to us a spiritual intimacy, a delight in\nresignation, a blessedness in pain, a rapture in sorrow, nay, even\na voluptuous ecstasy in martyrdom[278]. Not only in painting but in\nthe profoundly religious music of Italian composers, we find this\necstasy and illumination of grief abundantly expressed. We may, as a\nsummary definition in romantic art, call it \"the smile through tears.\"\nThe tears have their origin in affliction, the smile in blithesome\nserenity, and consequently this smile through weeping indicates, as it\nwere, the point of self-repose in the midst of pain and suffering. It\nis hardly necessary to add that the smile indicated here is no mere\nsentimental emotion, no mere vanity of the subject treated or dabbling\nwith beauty[279] over painful effects and insignificant traits of\nsubjective feeling; rather (on its artistic side) it must appear as the\nfirm delineation and freedom of beauty in defiance of all pain, in the\nspirit of what was said of Ximenes in the romances of the Cid, \"how\nbeautiful she was in tears.\" In contrast to this emotional abandonment\nin men is either ugly and repellent, or actually ridiculous. Children,\nfor example, break into tears at the slightest provocation, and we can\nonly laugh at them. The tears, however, in the eyes of a man of earnest\nand self-contained character, under stress of deep feeling, betray a\nvery different type of emotion. Laughter and tears can, however, very\nreadily fall apart as unrelated, and are, as such, falsely utilized as\na vehicle of art in such abstraction; the laughter chorus in Weber's\n\"Freisch\u00fctz\" may be cited as an example. Laughter, after all, is a kind\nof explosion, which it is impossible to exercise without restraint and\npreserve the Ideal. Another example of this laughter, which is nothing\nbut laughter, occurs in a duet of Weber's \"Oberon,\" throughout which\nwe are in a continual state of anxiety for the prima donna's throat\nand lungs. How very differently the inextinguishable laughter of the\ngods affects us in Homer, a sound which breaks from the blessed repose\nof divinity, and rather expresses gladsome serenity than abstract\nand wanton abandonment. Just as little ought weeping, devoid of all\nrestraint, to be introduced into the ideal work of art, of such a kind\nas that we may hear in all its comfortlessness in another part of the\n\"Freisch\u00fctz.\" And speaking generally, in music singing must take to\nitself the kind of joy and rapture which we catch from the lark in the\nopen sky. Shrieking, whether of pain or delight, is not music at all.\nEven in the expression of suffering the sweet tones of the plaint must\npenetrate and clarify the sorrows, so that it continually may seem to\nus worth all the suffering to arrive at such sweetness of plaint in its\nexpression. And this is the sweetness of melody, the singing of every\nkind of art.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Regarded in a certain relation to this fundamental axiom of art\nwe may find some justification for the principle of irony in its modern\nsense; but it must not be overlooked that irony is frequently destitute\nof all real seriousness, and is particularly prone to expatiate over\nbad subject-matter; and, in another aspect of it, it is apt to run to\nseed in the mere yearning of emotion rather than actively participate\nin practical life, as is proved by the case of Novalis, one of the\nfiner temperaments who have made this point of view their own, and\nfor lack of definite interest, or through shrinking from the real\nworld, are driven up and down, and cajoled into this sort of spiritual\nconsumption. This is the kind of yearning which will not descend\nto mere practical business and production, because it is afraid of\nsoiling itself with the contact of finite things, although it already\nsecretly feels the defects of such exclusion. No doubt we find in\nirony that absolute principle of negativity, in which the subject of\nconsciousness becomes self-centred through the annihilation of definite\nrelations and particulars; but in this case the act of annihilation\nof definite relations and particulars, as we have already pointed out\nwhen discussing the principle, is not, as in comedy, essentially in\nits right place, simply exposing its own want of substance, but is\ndirected quite as often against everything else excellent in itself\nand of sterling worth. Whether we regard irony, then, as this art of\nuniversal destruction, or as the yearning of which we have spoken in\ncontrast with the true Ideal, it betrays a secret lack of proportion\nand restraint which is detrimental to the artist. Substantive form is\nwhat the Ideal demands, which, owing to the fact that it is clothed in\nthe form and figure of external things, is unquestionably qualified\nby particularity no less than limitation; but this limitation of its\nform is at the same time included in such a way that everything merely\nexternal in its appearance is annulled and abolished. Only through\nthis negation of mere externality is the determinate form of the Ideal\na real exposition of the substantive content which belongs to it in a\nmode of appearance susceptible to sense-perception and the imagination.\n\n2. The plastic presentment of form, which is as much a constituent\nfeature of the Ideal as it is of the essentially homogeneous character\nof its content, and the way these two aspects are fused together,\nrender necessary an inquiry into the relation obtaining between the\nideal representation of art and Nature. For this external aspect and\nits embodiment is closely associated with that which we generally\ncall Nature. In this connection we once more come upon that old and\never-renewed and still unsettled dispute, whether the representation\nof art should follow the objects of Nature as they appear strictly to\nsense, or should rather ennoble and illumine them. The right of Nature,\nthe rule of beauty, the Ideal and the truth of Nature--with indefinite\nconceptions such as these arguments for and against may be bandied\nabout for ever. A work of art, we are told, should unquestionably be\nnatural, but there is such a thing as a mean or ugly Nature, we must\nnot of course imitate _that_; on the other hand--and so our disputants\nwrangle on and never come to a satisfactory conclusion.\n\nIn recent times the opposition between the Ideal and Nature has once\nmore been emphasized and received an exceptional significance through\nthe writings of Winckelmann. Winckelmann's enthusiasm, as already\npointed out[280], was first awakened by his study of the antique and\nits ideal forms. This insight into the peculiar excellence of classic\nart he thoroughly mastered and only ceased from his labours after\nmaking all that he had learned through his study of such masterpieces\nfamous throughout Europe. From this recognition, however, originated a\nkind of craze for ideal representation, which, despite all its belief\nin the discovery of beauty, was really a relapse into flatness, absence\nof vitality, and superficiality. It is this kind of emptiness more\nparticularly in the art of painting, which Herr von Rumohr had before\nhim in the polemical writings I have already noticed.\n\nThe theory of art has to solve this difficulty. As for its interest, on\nthe practical side of art, we shall do well to pass it wholly by. We\nmay formulate principles as we please for mediocrity and the talents\nthat express it, the result is always the same. Whether our theory\nis a distorted one or unexceptionable all we shall get is something\ncommonplace or weak. At the same time Art and more particularly\npainting has unquestionably received a stimulus other than that we have\ndeprecated from this very quest of so-called Ideals; and, through the\nrenewed interest thereby excited in old Italian and German painters,\nhas at least made an effort to secure a profounder and more vital\ncontent in its work.\n\nThe world is quite as tired of hearing the praises of that equally\nexclusive Ideal in the opposite camp, namely, that of undiluted realism\nin art. Theatregoers are, to take an example close at hand, heartily\nsick of the realistic type of domestic drama. The old story over and\nover again--disputes between husband and wife, sons and daughters, the\nsource of our income, the inventory of our expenses, the servility of\nministers and the intrigues of their lackeys and secretaries, down to\nthe question of the last sixpence between the dame of the house and\nher kitchen-maid, or up to the last gossip of the daughters over their\ntouching love-affairs in the parlour--such tales of woe most of us will\nprefer to take where, we may at least get them without adulteration--at\nhome.\n\nIn this opposition between Ideal and Nature writers have been inclined\nto regard one type of art to the exclusion of others, with an especial\npredilection, however, for painting, whose subject-matter is the\nparticularity of sense-perception. We will test our problem by putting\nthe question to start with wholly in general terms, thus: \"Is art to\nbe prose or poetry?\" Now what is truly poetical in art is just that\nwhich we have called the Ideal. If the question of difficulty in\nquestion is a mere matter of terminology we are quite prepared to call\nthe Ideal something else. But, however called, the question remains\nwhat it is which constitutes poetry or prose in art. And although the\nadherence to what is in itself poetical in the determination of it by\ncertain crafts may lead those arts into confusion, and, indeed, has\nalready done so, it is contended that in so far as any subject has an\nexpress affinity with poetry, such has been also the subject of genuine\npictorial treatment, genuine for the simple reason that such a content\nis unquestionably of a true poetical nature.\n\nWell, let us examine a concrete case. The present exhibition of art\n(1818) contains several pictures, all of which are of one school, the\nso-called D\u00fcsseldorf. Every one of these have borrowed subjects from\npoetry, and indeed from the emotional side of poetry peculiarly adapted\nto pictorial representation. The more often and carefully we examine\nthese pictures, the more complete will be our impression of their\nexcessive sweetness and insipidity[281].\n\nIn the foregoing contradiction there are present the following general\ncharacteristics[282]:\n\n(_a_) First, there is the formal ideality of the work of art, that is\nto say, the element of poetry in its general signification, which is,\nas the term implies, something composed and brought together by man,\nwhich he has taken into his imagination[283] and then actively worked\ninto the artistic composition.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The nature of the content of such a translation may however, be\na matter of indifference or, apart from the artistic representation we\nthus obtain of common life, may only interest us indirectly for the\nmoment. In this way the Dutch school of painting, for example, has\nrecreated, as it were, by means of human workmanship, the evanescent\neveryday appearances of natural objects in countless new artistic\neffects. Velvet, armour, light, horses, work-folk, old cronies,\npeasants puffing their smoke from old pipe stumps, the glitter of wine\nin transparent tumblers, rustics in soiled jackets playing with cards\nas ancient--such and a hundred other subjects like them which trouble\nus little enough in everyday life, for the best of reasons, that\nalthough we too may have our game at cards, our drink, and our gossip\nwe are really occupied with quite another class of interests--all this\nmedley of objects is brought before us in their pictures. Now the claim\nof art in the representation of such things is precisely this external\nshow, or reappearance of them as a product of spiritual activity,\nwhich has transmuted that which was purely external and sensuously\nmaterial into a new medium supplied by mind. For instead of wool or\nsilk that are tangible, instead of actual hair, glasses, flesh, and\nmetals, all we see now is colour; instead of the three dimensions which\nare essential to external Nature, we have only superficies; and yet,\ndespite all our losses, we have a representation identical with that of\nreality.\n\n(_\u03b2_) In opposition to the immediate and prosaic reality of objects,\nthen, this _show_ of things which is effected by the mind is the\nwonder of ideality, a jest, if anyone cares to put it so, and an\nirony directed against purely external existence. Only contrast with\nit the preparations Nature or man has to make in ordinary life, the\ncountless instruments of every kind they have to employ to effect the\nsame result. What opposition the material of such objects--take a\nmetal for example--may offer to any active effect upon it. The world\nof ideas, on the contrary, out of which art creates its products, is\na malleable and simple element, which readily converts everything,\nwhich either Nature or man in his purely natural existence is forced\nto leave bluntly just as they are, to the uses which are appropriate\nto it. In the same way the objects of ordinary apprehension and man\nas we meet him in everyday life are of no incommensurable wealth, but\nsubject to limitations--precious stones, plants, animals, etc., by\nthemselves are of a certain positive and particular character. But\nman in his creative capacity is an entire world of content, which\nhe has filched from Nature, and piled together in the comprehensive\ntreasure-house of his world of images, and which he is now free to give\nforth again simply and without the restraint of external conditions and\nthe detailed processes of actual phenomena. In this idealization art\nstands midway between the purely objective and restricted existence and\nthe entirely subjective world of idea. It gives indeed objects, but\nthey are supplied from the life of mind; it offers them for uses other\nthan those which belong to them; it concentrates their entire interest\nin the abstract form of the ideal show which it therewith manifests to\naesthetic contemplation, and to that alone.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Art consequently, through the ideality above explained, _exalts_\nobjects otherwise unimportant, determining them, despite their ordinary\ncharacter, in a fixed relation to her own medium and essential aim,\nand by so doing secures from us a sympathy in subject-matter which\notherwise would not have enlisted our serious attention. We find the\nsame transformation in the relation of art to Time. Its position is\nhere too frankly ideal. That which in Nature rapidly passes by in art\nis secured with permanence; the flash of a smile, the sudden curve of\nroguish merriment on the lips, a glance, a gleam of sunshine, together\nwith all those evanescent traits of human life, events and accidents\nwhich come and are gone, and are as quickly lost to memory. There is\nnothing which she cannot wrest from momentary existence, and in this\nrespect even becomes the vanquisher of Nature herself.\n\nIn this formal ideality of art, however, it is not the content itself\nwhich makes the pre-eminent claim upon us, but the satisfaction we\nderive from the act of artistic reproduction. The representation must\ncertainly strike us as natural, but it is not the reality of Nature\nthat we require; it is rather that of the process of reproduction, this\nvery deposition, in fact, of material conditions which is the poetical\nand ideal element of the work in the formal sense above indicated[284].\nWe delight in a manifestation, which appears to us a product of Nature,\nand which is nevertheless a product of mind without the means at\nNature's disposition. The objects charm us not so much by virtue of\ntheir approach to Nature, but rather because the _artist_ has been able\nto effect that approach.\n\n(_b_) A further and still profounder reason for our interest in\nartistic products consists in this, that the content is not brought\nbefore us in those forms in which it is found in immediate existence,\nbut, being itself minted by the mind, is capable of considerable\nextension and modification within such forms. All that exists in\nNature is particular, and, indeed, limited in every direction by\nsuch particularity. The creative faculty[285], however, contains an\nintrinsic determination of universal import. And all that it produces\npossesses forthwith a character of universality distinct from the\nparticularity of Nature. The creative faculty thereby secures this\nadvantage; that being of a wider range it is more qualified to grasp\nideal significance, and to insist on that explicitly in all that it\nshows us.\n\nIt is quite true that a work of art is not entirely the imaginative\nconcept in its universal aspect, but rather the determinate form of\nits envisagement. It is for all that bound, emanating as it does from\nthe creative medium and operations of mind, and despite the living\nresemblance to real things we may find upon it, to permeate the whole\nwith this universal quality. And in this we have that higher ideality\nof the poetical product as contrasted with the purely formal ideality\nof the art of production. From this point of view it is the task of\na work of art to grasp the object in its universal relations, and in\nthe envisagement it presents to let fall everything which stands in a\nwholly external or indifferent relation to the content. An artist for\nthis reason will refuse to accept all forms and means of expression\noffered him by the external world, on the mere ground that he finds\nthem there. His main effort will be, if at least his aim be a real\npoetical creation, to secure that which will appropriately work in\nwith his own imaginative conception; and, if he looks to Nature for\nassistance in supplying him with details, or, generally, as material\nto translate into his work, he will utilize such, not because he finds\nthem so in Nature, but because they fall in their _right_ place as a\npart of his composition and are rightly made for him. This \"right\" of\nthe artist is a higher one than the mere right of immediate _fact._\n\nIn his representation of the human form, for instance, an artist will\nnot attempt such imitation as we find attempted by those restorers of\nancient pictures, who reproduce old cracks, which through the swelling\nof either paint or varnish have involved all the older parts of the\npicture in a kind of arabesque, even on the portions restored. The\nportrait-painter will rather permit the tracery of the flesh, and _a\nfortiori_ such incidents as freckles, pustules, warts, and so forth,\nto disappear entirely. In this respect the painter Denner, so famous\nfor his close realization of Nature, is by no means an ideal master.\nFor the same reason indications of muscles and veins may be given,\nbut their distinction and relief should be far slighter than that we\nobserve in Nature. In all such impressions little or nothing of spirit\nis manifested, and the expression of spirit is what is essential in\nthe human form[286]. I cannot think it therefore wholly a disadvantage\nthat we moderns have less to do with the nude in sculpture than\nthe ancients. On the other hand the general style of our dress in\ncomparison with the ideal drapery of classical times is less artistic\nand more commonplace. The object in both cases is to cover the form.\nThe drapery, however, we find in the antique is, taken by itself, a\nmore or less formal smooth surface only so far determinate in its\nadjustment to the frame by its attachment to the shoulder. In other\nrespects the garment remains entirely formal[287], hanging down simply\nand freely by virtue of its own immanent weight, or only determined\nthrough the position of the body and the pose and motion of the limbs.\nIn the determination thus implied we find the external shape entirely\nreflecting the mutable expression of the spirit which animates the\nbody. The particular form of the garment, the folds of it, the motion\nof it either up or down is clothed in the shape dictated direct from\nthe inward impulse, and as each may momentarily appear appropriate to\nthe particular pose or movement--and it is this form of determination\nwhich constitutes the ideality of such drapery. In the clothing we\nhave adopted nowadays, on the contrary, the entire material is, from\nthe first, cut out and worked up stiffly into the forms of particular\nlimbs, so that anything approaching spontaneity in its rise and\nfall is impossible. Even the character of the folds is determined by\nprevious models, and generally both cut and fall are worked out wholly\nby the technical rules and craftsmanship of the tailor. It is true,\nof course, that the configuration of the limbs determines generally\nthe form of such clothing; but in this arrangement of the bodily form\nwe merely have either a perverse imitation, or an enveloping of human\nlimbs according to the convention of fashion and the accidental taste\nof the times. The cut of our cloth once made is irrevocably made,\nand neither the position of the body nor the motion of the limbs can\nappreciably affect it. We may move our arms and legs about as much\nas we please, the sleeves of our jackets and our trousers remain\nunalterable. Folds or creases may perhaps appear in them, but even\nthen only on the lines of the original cutting out, as we see them,\nfor example, on the statue of Scharnhorst. Our modern way of clothing\nis consequently, as an external cover, not sufficiently differentiated\nfrom the inner life to appear on its reverse side as the formal\nexpression of that life; instead of this we have a false imitation of\nthe human form stereotyped in the preordained and unalterable cut of\nour tailor.\n\nA criticism similar to that we have directed to the representation by\nart of the human form and its exterior clothing might be applied to a\nwhole multitude of things which make up the external show of life, or\nminister to its wants, such as eating, drinking, and sleeping--things\nnecessary enough in themselves and useful to all men, which, however\nmuch in their manifold variety, as constituent features of the physical\nlife of mankind, they may blend with those activities more directly\nrelated to its spirit, do not themselves form part of such activities,\nor stand in essential relation either to their determinations or\ntheir interests, and thereby contribute to what is the truly ideal or\nuniversal element in the content of human life. Physical aspects of\nlife such as these may no doubt receive poetical treatment in art;\nand it is generally admitted that the descriptions of a poet such\nas Homer in this direction adhere very closely to Nature. Yet we\nfind that even Homer, despite all his _\u1f10\u03bd\u03ad\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1_, all the vividness\nof his presentment, is forced to limit his descriptions to general\nobservations; no one expects to find in him an entirely accurate\npicture of the facts in all their detail as they actually would occur\nin life. He may give us, no doubt, in his delineation of the bodily\npresence of Achilles, the lofty brow, the prominent nose, the long\nand stalwart legs, but he is not likely to include in the picture\nevery detail of the veritable existence of limbs point for point, and\nthe relation in which they stand to one another in colour, size, and\nso forth, in other words to offer us Nature's reality instead of an\nartist's portrait. And the reason is obvious inasmuch as in the art of\npoetry the type of expression is always the universal concept of the\nimagination as distinguished from the bare particularity of Nature.\nInstead of the fact the poet always gives us the denominant, the word,\nin which the particular thing is universalized; for the word is a\nproduct of mental conception, and as such already carries in itself\nthe nature of a universal. One is entitled to say, of course, that\nit is _natural_ in the formation of concepts and speech to employ a\nnomenclature, the word, as such an infinite[288] abridgment of the\nexistence we find in Nature; but if we do so the Nature to which we\nrefer it would not merely be opposed to the natural existence with\nwhich we compare it, but would be just that which cancels it. We are\ntherefore confronted with the question in what sense we use the word\nNature when we contrast it with the characteristic of poetry. The mere\nundefined use of the word Nature by itself tells us nothing at all.\nWhat poetry should always give us is the energetic, the essential,\nthe truly characteristic; and this fundamental expressiveness is\nprecisely the Ideal and not the merely immediate, to enumerate all the\ndetails of which in the narration of an event or the portrayal of a\nscene will render either of these simply dull, spiritless, tedious,\nand intolerable. In the manifestation of this universality, however,\none type of art will reveal more clearly its ideal characteristics;\nanother will rather emphasize, by a restricted use of material form,\nthe infinite detail of external reality. Sculpture, for example, is\nin its presentments more abstract than painting; in poetry the epic\ntype, in its realization of the external appearance of life itself,\nwill not be so complete as a dramatic poem should be. On the other\nhand it will surpass the latter in its portrayal of the fulness of\nits imaginative vision, the epic poet being most indebted to concrete\npictures his imagination borrows from past history. In contrast with\nhim the dramatist is mainly restricted to the motives of an action, the\nattitude of the will to it, the psychological problem in short.\n\n(_c_) It is, then, _Mind_ (Spirit), which gives external realization in\na particular form to the inward world of content which is of essential\ninterest to it; and it is in close relation to this fact that we should\nconsider the question, what precise significance we are to infer from\nthe opposition above discussed between the Ideal and _naturalness._\nAnd first we must observe that from such a point of view the word\n_natural_ is not employed in the most genuine signification of the\nterm. As a description of the external form imposed upon facts by mind\nit obviously is neither the immediate naturality we find in animal\nlife, nor that presented in Nature's landscape. Rather its very form\nof determination, in so far, that is to say, as we see the mind here\ngiving to itself an embodiment, will show us that it is an expression\nof mind, an expression moreover suffused with ideality. For this\ntaking up into the mind, this plastic recreation of form on the part\nof mind is nothing less than idealization. It is sometimes remarked\nof the countenances of dead people that they take on themselves once\nmore the lineaments of childhood. The obdurate expression of passion,\ncustom and strife, the characteristic seal of their life of strenuous\naction, passes off, and the indeterminacy of the features of a child's\nface reappears. In life, however, all traits whatsoever, the entire\npresentment in fact, receive their characteristic expression from the\nworld of soul; and in much the same way the different races and classes\nof mankind reflect the distinguishing features of their spiritual\ntendencies and activities in their external manifestation. In all such\norganizations that which is outward is visibly permeated with mind;\nand, by virtue of its energy, already confronts _mere_ Nature as an\nidealized creation. Only a clear perception of this truth will enable\nus to sift this significant question of an opposition between Nature\nand the Ideal to the bottom. If we do not possess this we shall find\nourselves maintaining that the forms in which Spirit is visualized as\na part of Nature have already lost in that real appearance, which is\nindependent of art's imitative action, such an intrinsic completeness,\nbeauty, and excellence, that it is quite impossible that there can be\nanother and more exalted type of beauty, which presents itself as the\nIdeal in contradistinction to this immediate reality, and this all\nthe more for the reason that art is unable entirely to attain even to\nthat which is present in Nature herself. Or, if our thoughts lean to\nthe opposite extreme, we shall look to art to supply us independently,\nin opposition to Nature's reality, with more ideal modes of\nrepresentation. The polemics of Herr von Rumohr, which we have already\ncriticized, are well worthy of attention in this connection. This\nwriter, at any rate, whatever others may say who have the word Ideal so\nfrequently on their lips in depreciation of the vulgarity of Nature,\nrefers to the Idea and the Ideal in phrases of respect and contempt\nwith absolute impartiality.\n\nThe real truth of the matter is rather this. There is in the spiritual\nworld, both outwardly and inwardly regarded, a Nature of vulgar type,\nwhich testifies to its meanness outwardly for the simple reason that\nits inward content is mean, that is to say, when all that it can\nrealize externally in its activities are the aims of envy, jealousy,\nand avarice in every detail of sensuous life. Such a poverty-stricken\nNature can no doubt form part of the subject-matter of art, and has\nbeen treated as such. When this is the case, however, as we have\nalready explained, it is not the subject-matter, but wholly the\nartistic handling of it, which creates an interest of any permanent\ncharacter; and the artist will look in vain for sympathy in his\nsubject, or rather the mere material of his subject from the true\nconnoisseur. A particularly pertinent illustration of this type of\nart is the so-called _genre_ painting, which has not shown itself\nabove accepting subjects of this character, the artistic treatment\nof which has been carried by the Dutch school to the extreme limit\nof perfection. It may, however, be as well to ask ourselves,\nfirst, what the precise contribution of the Dutch has been to this\n_genre_-painting, what, in short, is the nature of content their\ndainty pictures express, pictures which at least have asserted an\nextraordinary power of attraction and obviously cannot be shelved right\naway beneath the common stigma of vulgarity. We shall not improbably\nfind, on closer examination, that the subject-matter of these pictures\nis not so contemptible as it is often taken to be[289].\n\nThe Dutch have selected the subject-matter of their artistic production\nout of their own substance, out of the actual presence of their daily\nlife. To have once for all realized that presence even in art is no\nmatter of reproach to them. To estimate the character of their artistic\ninterest we must view them in close connection with the actual panorama\nof their own times. This is a problem of history. The Dutchman has\nin great measure himself created the ground wherein he lives and\nfinds a home, and has been forced continuously to preserve and defend\nthat home against the invasion of the sea. The citizens of the towns\nno less than the rural population have together, through courage,\nendurance, and bravery, repulsed the power of Spain in the hands of\nPhilip II, son of Charles V, the sovereign of a world-wide empire,\nand in fighting their battle for civic freedom, they were fighting\nthat of religious liberty. This staunch sense of citizenship, this\npassionate love of enterprise in the narrow limits of their fatherland,\nno less than abroad on the high seas, this careful and at the same\ntime clean and dainty mode of life, together with the geniality and\ninvincible self-respect which distinguishes them, all this is as much\nthe fruit of their own actions as it is the general content of their\nartistic production. Such a content as this is no common material,\nthough obviously it is not of the kind we must suppose we can approach\nwith the supercilious superiority of critics for whom the exalted\ntaste of courts and fine society is everything. From a sterling\nnational self-consciousness of this sort Rembrandt painted his famous\n\"Night-Watch\" now in Amsterdam, Van Dyck so many of his portraits,\nWouvermans so many of his battle-pieces; nor should even those\nreflections of rustic drinking-bouts, jovialities, and other scenes of\nmerriment be wholly excluded from the category. And in illustration of\nits excellence we would point, by way of contrast, to a work in this\nyear's exhibition, which, though not downright bad _genre_-painting,\nis much inferior to the handling by old Dutch masters of similar\nsubject-matter, coming nowhere near to their freedom and joy of life.\nIn this picture a housewife is seen entering an alehouse to give her\nhusband a good scolding. Here we have just a scene of cantankerous and\nwaspish human-kind and nothing more. These Dutchmen painted their folk\nvery differently; whether we find them among their cups, at weddings\nor dances, feasting or drinking, nay, even when the matter proceeds to\nribaldry and blows, liveliness and lustiness is the prevailing temper.\nYoung maids and women laugh with the rest, and a feeling of free and\nabandoned merriment carries all before it. This intimate delight in all\nenjoyment justifiably human, which will even absorb itself wholly in\nanimal life and crop up at times as mere satiety and grossness; this\nfreshly awakened sense of freedom and life, fully grasped and embodied\nin composition and colour, is what constitutes the higher spiritual\nimport[290] of these Dutch pictures.\n\nOn much the same grounds the beggar boys of Murillo, in the central\ngallery of the Munich collection, are excellent. Superficially\nregarded, the subject here, too, is of a vulgar character. The mother\nis scolding one of the youngsters, as he quickly munches a piece of\nbread; two others hard by, ragged and poor, are eating melons and\ngrapes[291]. But in this very poverty of half-nakedness what gleams\nforth from the entire composition as the soul of that beggar life is\nits complete carelessness and spontaneity. No dancing dervish himself\ncould give it us more frankly in its impression of entire health and\njubilant vitality. This freedom from all external care, this inward\nliberty reflecting itself in that which is visible, is precisely that\nwhich the notion of the Ideal demands. There is in Paris a certain\nportrait of a boy by Raphael; the head leans propped at leisure on\none arm, and gazes with such ecstasy of careless contentment into the\nopen landscape that we are loth to turn away from a picture expressive\nof such health and exuberant animation. We receive a delight of very\nmuch the same nature from these lads of Murillo. It is obvious enough\nthat neither their objects nor their interests aim high, but this is\nno result of stupidity; there they chaffer on God's earth with, we may\nalmost say, the bliss and contentment of the Olympian gods themselves.\nThey, too, have their business; but though we hear little about it\nthey are a genuine sample of humanity, neither morose nor discontented\nwith their lot. Feeling this ground-root in them of all sterling\nperformance we can readily imagine that in favourable conditions youth\nsuch as this might be capable of most things. A composition of this\nkind is entirely on a different level from the one above mentioned of\nthe scolding housewife, or two others we might also contrast with it,\nof a certain peasant mending his whip and a postillion sleeping on a\nstraw pallet[292]. Such paintings of _genre_ should unquestionably be\nof small size; and, indeed, in their total impression on the sense,\nthey must be made to appear of comparative insignificance, that we may\nnot feel the character of their subject-matter and its presentment\nhas received undue prominence. It would be intolerable to have such\nsubjects painted life size as though the fulness of the reality were\nsufficiently attractive to claim our attention.\n\nSuch are the principles which should regulate our artistic treatment\nof and sympathy with that which it is usual to stigmatize as mean or\nvulgar in ordinary life.\n\nThere is, no doubt, plenty of material for art to appropriate of\nhigher grade than the representation of animal spirits and downright\ncitizenship in all their essentially insignificant detail. Man has\nclearly more serious interests and objects than these, interests which\nhave unfolded as his own spirit has widened and deepened, and in\nharmony with which it is his truest interest to remain. An art will\ntake highest rank which sets before itself the task of giving adequate\nrepresentation to this more vital, or at least more profound, content.\nAnd here at once we are confronted with the old question, what is\nthe source which will supply us with the forms most fitting to such\ncreations of mind. On the one side theorists maintain the opinion that,\ninasmuch as the artist creates these lofty ideas, which he desires to\nclothe in artistic form, he must, also supply their artistic forms,\ncreate, for example, from his imagination the ideal figures of Greek\ngods, Christ, his apostles, saints, and so on. In strenuous opposition\nto this view Herr von Rumohr has entered the lists. This writer is\nof opinion that art is on a false track in supposing that the artist\ndiscovers the forms of his production in himself rather than in Nature,\nand it is under this conviction that he has reviewed the masterpieces\nboth of Italian and Dutch painters. On this head he finds it a matter\nof censure (\"Italian Investigations,\" i, p. 105) \"that the theory\nof art, during the sixty years which have elapsed, should be at the\npains to prove that it is an object, or rather the main object, of\nart to improve upon creation as it is particularised, and by doing so\nto substitute forms which have no particular relation to anything,\nwhich would ape Nature's creation by going several points beyond her,\nand release mortal man from all responsibility for the fact that\nNature has not known how to make her appearance more beautiful.\" And\nconsistently with such a point of view he further advises the artist\n\"to have nothing to do with the gigantic task of attempting to ennoble\nor elucidate the natural form, or attempt any such exalted function\nof the human Spirit under what name soever it may be written down in\nworks upon art\" (_ibid._ p. 63). He is, in short, wholly convinced\nthat, however exalted and spiritual[293] the subject to be treated may\nbe, completely adequate forms are to be found in Nature as immediately\nperceived, and consequently maintains (p. 83), \"that the exposition of\nArt, even in the case of subject-matter as highly _spiritual_ as it is\npossible to conceive, is never indebted to a symbolism capriciously\ncreated by man[294], but depends wholly for its consistency upon what\nis presented as significant by Nature in organic form.\" No doubt in\nadvancing this Herr von Rumohr has particularly under review the ideal\ntypes of antique art as they are expounded by Winckelmann. It is for\nall that the abiding service of Winckelmann to have pointed out and\nset forth in harmonious relation these very types, although he may\ndoubtless have, committed errors of judgment with regard to particular\nmasterpieces while carrying through the same. As a possible example\nof such an oversight Herr von Rumohr thinks he has made out (p. 115)\nthat the increase of length in the lower half of the body, which\nWinckelmann has characterized as an ideal feature of the antique,\nis really borrowed from Roman statuary. And naturally enough, as an\nopponent of the Ideal, improves the occasion by insisting that the\nartist should unreservedly take Nature into his confidence in the\nstudy of form. Here, and here alone, he will find the presence of true\nbeauty. To quote this writer once more it is affirmed (p. 144), \"that\nthe beauty of most importance depends on a symbolic of forms rooted in\nNature rather than human caprice, a beauty through which these forms\nare nourished into their characteristic and symbolic relations, in\nthe vision of which we necessarily have brought back to our memory\ndefinite images and conceptions, and are made more definitely conscious\nof previously dormant feeling.[295]\" I And so finally it appears that\nin this writer's view (p. 105) \"a mysterious trait of our spiritual\nlife, what many would perhaps call Idea, seems to bind together the\nartist and the appearances of Nature, in which latter he is constantly\nand continuously learning to recognize the true character of his own\nartistic purpose[296], and to find himself in a position through them\nto give expression to it.\"\n\nThere can be no question, of course, that ideal art has no business at\nall with \"a symbolism capriciously created;\" and, if it really is the\ncase that these ideal types of the ancients have been composed only to\nreduce the veritable forms of Nature to false and empty abstraction,\nwe may freely admit that Herr von Rumohr is justified in his most\ntrenchant opposition.\n\nFor our own part we would emphasize the points of fundamental\nimportance to be grasped in this antithesis between the ideal of art\nand Nature as follows:\n\nThe forms which are borrowed from immediate Nature to determine an\nideal content must be assumed to be thus taken symbolically in the\nusual sense of the term, namely, that they are not thus immediately\nsignificant in themselves, but only as the external embodiment of that\nwhich is inward and spiritual, the content, in fact, they express. It\nis only Spirit, even in the reality which they possess outside the\nlimits of art, which constitutes their ideality in its contrast with\nthat they entirely owe to Nature simply as such, and which is unable\nto reveal to us what is essentially mind. It is the object of art, on\nits more noble plane, to give external shape to the inward content of\nSpirit. This content we discover in the conscious life of men realized\nin the world. As such it possesses--we include with it our conscious\nhuman experience generally--an external semblance directly presented in\nand through which it finds expression. So much may readily be conceded.\nAt the same time from a philosophical point of view it is simply futile\nto inquire whether we ought to look to the direct facts of Nature alone\nfor objects and physiognomical traits of beauty and expression to serve\nas entirely adequate materials for art's representation, shall we say,\nof the majesty, repose, and power of a Jupiter or of a Juno, Venus,\nPeter, Christ, Madonna, or any other divinity, or saint. Arguments may\nbe supported on either side, and the question can only remain finally\nundecided, being wholly empirical. For the only sufficient way of\ndeciding the matter would be to contrast what is borrowed with the\nrealities it purports to represent, and this, in the assumed case of\nthe Greek gods, might be matter of some difficulty; and, to take the\npresent day, one man will see traits of beauty in their perfection\nwhere another a thousand times more acute will see nothing. But over\nand above such considerations we must observe that the mere beauty\nof form will never give us that we have named the Ideal, inasmuch as\nthe individuality of the content is a constituent part of it, and\ntherein form is necessarily included. A human face, for example, may\nbe both regular and beautiful in its outlines and yet remain cold and\ndevoid of all expression. The ideal figures of the Greek gods are,\non the contrary, true individualizations; the universality of their\nideal conception does not exclude the characteristic determination\nwhich belongs to each of them. And the vitality of the Ideal consists\njust in this, that this determinate and fundamental spiritual\nsignificance, which it is the function of art to exhibit, should\nwholly transfuse by appropriate artistic treatment all the particular\naspects of the external embodiment, such as composition, pose, motion,\nphysiognomy, and configuration of limbs, so that nothing empty or\ninsignificant should be left, but the entire work should reflect that\nideal significance. All that we have learned from Greek sculpture in\nrecent times of a quality which, in fact, emanates from the school\nof Pheidias, is characterized by nothing so much as this penetrative\nvitality. The Ideal is preserved in all its severity without any lapse\nin the direction of mere grace, softness, elegance, and exuberance,\nyet retains the form in close relation to the ideal significance which\nshould be embodied throughout the whole. This supreme vitality is the\ndistinguishing mark of the great artist.\n\nWe may call a typical significance of this kind, in contrast to the\nparticularity of the external world, essentially abstract. This is\npre-eminently the case in sculpture and painting, arts which illuminate\nbut a momentary state, without proceeding to such a varied development\nof exposition as we find, for example, in that where Homer is able to\ndepict the character of Achilles as mild and courteous no less than\nsevere and terrible, to say nothing of all his other characteristics.\nNo doubt it is possible to find such a significance expressed in\npurely immediate reality. There are, for instance, few countenances\nwhich cannot reflect the moods of piety, devotion, and cheerfulness;\nbut such faces also express countless other moods which either are\nquite inappropriate to that ideal significance, or are only indirectly\nrelated to it. For this reason it is by virtue of its particular\nrealization that a portrait acquaints us of the fact that it is a\nportrait. In many old German and Flemish pictures we find the patron\nof the picture included in the composition with his entire family of\nsons and daughters. All are necessarily painted as though taken in\nan act of devotion, and this spirit illuminates every countenance;\nbut at the same time we have quite as clearly set before us in the\nmen stalwart warriors, men of vigorous action, disciplined on the\nstrenuous field of life and commerce, and in the women dames of an\nequally doughty life-experience. If we compare with such faces--and\nwe may restrict our comparison wholly to these very pictures, which\nare famous for their close approach to Nature in their delineation of\nphysiognomy--those of the Virgin Mary, and the saints and apostles\nwho surround her, we shall find in these latter one preponderating\nexpression; and all the physical lineaments, whether we look at build\nof bone, structure, or muscle, traits of that express motion or\nrepose, are concentrated upon this one artistic effect. That which is\nfelt to be appropriate to the one class and not to the other exactly\ndifferentiates the distinction between the genuine Ideal and mere\nportraiture.\n\nSome may imagine it possible for the artist to compose the ideal\ncontent of genuine types by a process of sifting and selection from\nthe facts of immediate Nature, or quite possibly from the various\nphysiognomies and compositions which collections of engravings from\nthe copper-plate or the wood may furnish. But a process such as this\nof mere collection and sifting is not the end of the matter. An artist\nmust maintain the creative impulse alert throughout. He must himself,\nin the strength of his own imagination, already impregnated with the\nknowledge of appropriate form and made vital with profound experience\nand emotion, give such an embodiment to the significance, which is the\ninspiring motive of the work, as will make it appear throughout as\nmetal cast at one time and is one state of fusion.\n\nB. THE DETERMINACY OF THE IDEAL\n\nTo comprehend the Ideal in its intrinsic significance, that is to say,\naccording to its fundamental notion, was a comparatively easy task. But\nthe beauty of art, in so far as it is the Idea, is not to be restricted\nto the purely universal standpoint of its notional concept; even as\nso comprehended it must necessarily include within it determination\nand particularity, and is compelled to take definite embodiment as\nexternal reality. The question consequently arises in what way is the\nIdeal able still to assert itself in this process of objectification\nin the medium of external things and their finitude, and despite all\nthat is antagonistic to ideality; and as a corollary to this we have to\ninquire how finite and determinate existence is enabled to attach to\nitself the ideality of the beauty of all art.\n\nWe propose to regulate this inquiry with the following division of our\nsubject matter.\n\n_First_, the determination of the Ideal in its simplest terms.\n\n_Secondly_, the determination of it, in so far as it proceeds by virtue\nof its particularity to a condition of _discordant parts_ within itself\nand to their resolution, a condition we may generally, define as\n_action_[297].\n\n_Thirdly_, the determination of the Ideal from the point of view of it\nas an _external object._\n\nI. THE IDEAL DEFINITION AS SUCH\n\n1. We have already observed that it is the function of art to make the\nDivine the focus or centre of its entire exposition. It is, however,\nonly possible for thought in its pure medium, that is to say, apart\nfrom all the sensuous material of the figurative imagination, to\ncomprehend the Divine in its essential significance of _unity_ and\n_universality._ To attempt to do otherwise, by imagining a picture of\nGod more readily grasped by the perception of the senses, is, as we\nknow, forbidden both Jews and Mahommedans. This cuts away the ground of\nthe figurative arts, which absolutely require form as their medium in\nall its concreteness of actual life; and we have only lyrical poetry\nleft us to celebrate in its exaltation the praise of His power and\nglory.\n\n2. Considered, however, from the reverse point of view, we must equally\nassert that however much unity and universality are predicable of the\nDivine, He is in His essential substance determined, and, so far as He\nwithdraws Himself from the pure quality, of such predicates in their\nabstraction, is thereby an object for the figurative sense and external\nperception. If the Divine is consequently apprehended and figuratively\nembodied for us through the forms of the imagination, we are at once\nconfronted with a possible variety in such determination; and it is at\nthis point that the actual realm of ideal art finds its commencement.\nFor, in the _first_ place, the one Divine substance disunites and\nbreaks itself up into a multiplicity of self-subsistent gods, such as\nwe find presented by the polytheistic system of Grecian art; and even\nin the religious consciousness of Christianity God is, in opposition to\nHis purely spiritual unity, immediately revealed on Earth and in the\nworld-process as man. And, _secondly_, the Divine, regarded generally\nin its determinate appearance and reality, is both present and realized\nin emotional feeling, will, and the education[298] of mankind. For this\nreason and in this sphere men who are filled with the Spirit of God,\nsaints, martyrs, and, in short, all who share in the religious life,\nare equally the appropriate subject of ideal art. With this principle\nof the individuality of the Divine and its determinate existence\nrealized necessarily in the world-process, we are face to face\nwith--and this is the _third_ point to be considered--the particularity\nof human existence. For the entire world of human emotion, with all\nthat stirs it most profoundly--and what a power is implied in that\nopen sea of feeling and passion, everything of deepest interest to the\nhuman heart--this entire content is nothing less than its exposition\nand expression. If it is true, then, that the Divine in its purest\nessence of reason is only the object of the thinking consciousness,\nit is equally true that Spirit, which takes to itself an actively\nbodily presence, so far, that is to say, and only so far as we find it\nreverberate in the heart of humanity, all this lies within the sphere\nof art. Once admit this, and we must admit the content of particular\ninterests and actions, specific characters, and momentary situations,\nin short, the entire process of development in the external order; and\nit becomes of first importance to indicate under a general principle\nin what the relation between the Ideal and this positive determination\nconsists.\n\n3. In conformity with what we have already advanced it is clear\nthat here, too, the Ideal will be most purely manifested in the\nrepresentation--whether it be of gods, Christ, apostles, saints, or\nany other type of devout persons--which brings most clearly before\nus the qualities of beatified repose and satisfaction, a peace\nundisturbed with that which is earthly, and subject to the storms of\nlife's manifolded complexities, struggles, and contradictions. We are\ntherefore not surprised to find that both the arts of sculpture and\npainting have been peculiarly fitted to incorporate under ideal form\nnot merely the ancient gods, but Christ as saviour of the world, and\nindividual apostles and saints. That which is the most essential truth\nin actual life is concentrated to a focus on itself in the determinate\nembodiment of art, rather than continually forced from its serenity\nthrough dependence upon finite conditions. This essential concentration\nis not destitute of particularity, but the divergent separation, which\nis a feature of the external and finite state, is purified to one\nsimple definition, so that it appears as though all traces of external\ninfluence and the relation thus created were overcome. This deedless\nand infinite self-repose, this \"taking a rest,\" as we find it, for\nexample, in certain statues of Hercules, is just what constitutes the\nsignificance of the Ideal. If the gods are represented in contact with\nthe process of Nature, they must still carry with them their immortal\nand unapproachable majesty. Jupiter, Juno, Apollo, Mars, and their\nlike are, it is true, definite personalities, but they are at the same\ntime unyielding potentates and powers, which preserve within them\ntheir self-subsistent liberty, even when they are actively related\nto the world. And for this reason it is not merely that a specific\nparticularity must characterize the determinacy of the Ideal, but\nspiritual freedom must be manifested thereby as totality, and in this\nstate of repose suggest the potency of unfettered freedom of action.\nIf we turn now from the gods to the less exalted plane of temporal\nexistence and human life, we shall find the Ideal active in its\nrepresentation of the substantial content of such humanity, and its\ndominant repression of wholly subjective particularity. By this we mean\nthat all that is entirely isolate in feeling and action is wrested from\nthe element of contingency, and particularity is represented in its\nconcreteness, that is to say in its wider bond of relation with what\nmost truly and intimately belongs to its life. When, for instance,\nwe speak of the nobility, excellence, or perfection in particular\nmen, we assert in so many words that the substantial core of what is\nspiritual, ethical, and divine has announced itself as prevailing in\nthe individual, and man has submerged his active life, his volitions,\nhis interests, and passions wholly in this substantive basis, that he\nmay thereby give full satisfaction to the most authentic necessities of\nhis soul.\n\nAt the same time, however much in the case of the Ideal the\ndetermination of Spirit and its external presence appears to be\nabsorbed in the simple self-relation, the principle of _development_\nis likewise directly associated with the particularity unfolded[299]\nin determinate existence, and along with this in that relation to\nenvironment which necessitates both the opposition and conflict\nof clashing forces. This fact necessitates a closer examination\nof the determination of the Ideal regarded in this very aspect of\ndifferentiation and process, an aspect which we may in a general way\ndefine as _action_.\n\nII. THE ACTION\n\nThe gracious innocence of beatific enjoyment, the inactive repose, the\nmajesty of power in self-reliant tranquillity, as also the concentrated\ncompactness generally of that which is most substantial in a given\ncontent--all these are essentially ideal modes of determination. That\nwhich is inward, however, and spiritual is in an equal degree active\nmovement and development. One-sidedness and division are inseparable\nfrom development. Spirit that is wholly itself and a totality will,\nexpanding into all particularity, step forth out of its repose,\nin despite of all satisfaction therein, and involve itself in the\ncontradictions of the broken and confused medley of earthly existence,\nand is by so doing unable in this divided world to withdraw itself from\nthe ill-fortune and ill-health that clings to finite existence.\n\nEven the immortal gods of Polytheism do not dwell in eternal peace,\nbut take sides in mighty conflicts wherein contending passions and\ninterests are roused, being subject themselves to Destiny; nay,\nmore, even the God of Christians is, not delivered from a passage\nof humiliation endured through suffering and shame of death, is not\nspared the bitterness of soul, which perforce cried aloud: \"My God, my\nGod, why hast thou forsaken me.\" And the mother of Christ experienced\nan agony of the same poignant character, and human life in every\ndirection is a life of struggle, battle, and pain. For greatness and\nforce of character is evolved in the greatness and force of contending\nelements, out of which Spirit concentrates itself again and again\nupon its unity. The intensity and depth of subjectivity is only the\nmore emphasized, the more unbroken and unexampled the resistance\nof circumstances to its unity grows, and the more irreconcilable\nthe contradictions appear under which it has to preserve its own\nself-centred equilibrium. In this development and through this alone\nthe might of the Idea and the Ideal is preserved, for power consists\nprecisely in this self-preservation through a process of self-negation.\n\nInasmuch as it is the fact, then, that the particularity of the\nIdeal passes into a relation with the external world through such\ndevelopment, and by so doing is made partaker in a world, which, so\nfar from manifesting the ideally free association of the notion and\nits external reality, presents an existence which is just that which\nit ought not to be, in apprehending the true nature of this relation\nwe have to consider how far the determinations which affect the Ideal\neither in themselves contain immediately the principle of Ideality, or\nare to a more or less degree susceptible of it.\n\nIn this connection we would direct attention to three fundamental\npoints of view.\n\nIn the _first_ place we have the _actual condition_ of the _world\ngenerally_, which is assumed as involved in individual action and\nits specific character. _Secondly_, we have the _particularity_ of\ncondition, the determination of which introduces difference and tension\nwithin the substantive unity, which is the motive-spring of the action,\nin other words the _situation._\n\nThirdly, we have to consider the situation from the side of\nsubjectivity, and furthermore the reaction by virtue of which the\nconflict and resolution of the element of difference is expressly\nasserted, in other words, the _action_ in its strict sense.\n\n1. THE GENERAL WORLD-CONDITION\n\nThe ideal subjectivity is as such essentially a personal relation,\na relation, that is to say, of self to every aspect of motion or\nactivity, in which the self has to assert or perfect its own\nsubstance. And to effect this a world environment is necessary as the\nuniversal ground of its realization. When in reference to this we speak\nof _condition_ we understand by this the universally prevailing mode,\nunder which, within the sphere of spiritual reality, that which is the\n_substantive_ and essentially coalescing fabric of the same is present.\nIn this sense we refer to a _condition_ of education, the sciences,\nthe religious sense, or even of finance, administration of justice,\nfamily life, and similar examples. All these objects of reference are,\nhowever, merely aspects of one and the same spiritual content, which\nis thus in and through them rendered explicit and real. In further\nconsidering the general condition of the world as the universal mode of\nthe reality of Spirit it will be necessary to pursue our examination\nfrom the point of view of the _Will._ It is through the exercise of\nvolition that Spirit generally unites itself to-determinate existence;\nand the substantial _nexi_ which are immediately present in reality\nbetray themselves in the specific modes in which the determinations of\nWill, ethical and legal conceptions, and, indeed, all that belongs to\nthat which we are accustomed, in a general way, to define as justice,\nactively asserts itself.\n\nThe question consequently arises how such a universal condition must be\ncharacterized in order that it may appear adequate to the individuality\nof the Ideal.\n\n(_a_) Pursuant to the foregoing considerations we may, to begin with,\nemphasize the following points:\n\n(_\u03b1_) The Ideal is essential unity; not a purely formal and external\nunity, but the immanent unity of the content in itself. This\nsubstantive repose on its own resources we have already characterized\nas the self-sufficiency, rest, and beatitude of the Ideal. We will, in\ndirect relation to the plane of discussion we have now reached, develop\nthis characteristic of _self-subsistency_[300], making it a primary\ndemand of our argument that what we have termed the general condition\nof the world appear in such a self-subsistent form as will enable it to\naccept the embodiment of the Ideal.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Now self-subsistency is an equivocal expression to start with.\nIn ordinary parlance that which is essentially substantial is called\nsimply self-subsistent by virtue of the element of causation being\nimplied within this substantiality; we are wont to use it in this sense\nwhen describing the intrinsically divine and absolute. But as retained\nin this universality of substance merely as such it is not declared\nas itself subjective, and consequently meets with its irresolvable\ncontradiction in the particularity of concrete individuality. In this\nbare antithesis all true self-subsistency disappears.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) On the other hand, it is not uncommon to find such subsistency\nascribed to purely formal individuality, consisting solely in\nits self-reliance upon the fixed determinacy of its subjective\ncharacteristics. This subjectivity, however, in so far as the actual\ncontent of life drops away from it, so that the forces and substances\nwhich lie without it acquire in themselves an independent stability,\nand as such confront the subject and the inward life as a content\nwholly unrelated, lapses through this, too, into unequivocable\ncontradiction with the actual substantiality of determinate existence,\nand forfeits all claim to self-subsistency and freedom of content.\nTrue self-subsistence consists alone in the unity and interpenetration\nof both individuality and universality with each other. The universal\nacquires through the individual a concrete existence; the subjectivity\nof the particular thing discovers for the first time in the universal\nthe unassailable basis and the most genuine form of its realized\ntotality.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Consequently in making this demand of the universal\nworld-condition we must ask for a form of self-subsistency in the same\nsense, namely, that the substantially universal in such a condition\nmust contain within itself as the vehicle of its self-subsistence\nthe form of subjectivity. The most obvious presentment of this\nidentity is that of thought. For if thought is, in one aspect of it,\nsubjective, in another it possesses universality as the product of its\ninherent activity, and encloses both universality and subjectivity\nin unfettered unity. The universal of thought is, however, not that\nof art, whose object is the beautiful. And, indeed, apart from this\ndistinction, particular individuality as confronted by thought in its\nnatural envisagement, or form, no less than in its active effects and\ncomplete realization, stands in no necessary correspondence with the\nuniversality of thought. There is, for example, a clear distinction\nbetween the subject apprehended in its concrete content of the actual\nworld and that which is simply the thinking subject, or at least it is\nopen to such a distinction. The same kind of cleavage affects the form\nof the universal itself. In other words the moment the universal begins\nto assert itself in distinction from its otherwise related reality by\nthat act it has in _objective_ existence separated itself from all the\nvaried play of its phenomenal particularity, and, in opposition to\nthe same, has already established an independent position assured and\npowerful.\n\nIn the Ideal, however, it is precisely the particular individuality\nwhich ought to persist in inseparable co-ordination with the\nsubstantive reality, and to the full extent that freedom and the\nself-subsistency of the subjective principle may attach to the Ideal\nthe world-environment of conditions and relations should possess no\nessential objectivity independent of the individual in the subjective\naspect above referred to or already presupposed. For the ideal\nindividual is a self-enclosed totality, which already includes the\nobjective principle, and it must not be permitted to have independent\nmotion and development apart from the individuality of the subject;\notherwise the subject falls back into a purely subordinate position\nin contrast to a world whose independence is already assured.\nConsequently the universal must indeed be actual in the individual as\nthat which is in a unique sense its own, but not so as the property\nof the individual, as a _thinker_, but as that of his _character_ and\n_temperament._ To put the same truth in another way, what is required\nfor this unity of the universal and individual in art as opposed to the\nmediation and differentiation of thought, is the form of _immediacy_;\nand the self-subsistency which we claim here is the form of immediate\nself-subsistency. With that, however, the element of _contingency_ is\nassociated. That is to say, so long as the universal and effective[301]\nconstituents of spiritual life, such as the self-subsistency of\nindividuals exhibits, are only presented to us in the immediate guise\nof subjective feeling, temperament, and disposition of character, and\ndebarred any other category of existence, such are thereby already\ngiven over to the contingency of volition and its realization. All\nwe have left us, then, is what is peculiar to each individual viewed\nas such and his sensuous experience. Such a possession of what is\nnothing more than personal idiosyncracy is unable to assert for itself\nany further potency or necessity; it appears simply as inclusion of\ncontent, fixed achievement and at the same time arbitrary commitment\nof the wholly self-dependent subject to the influence of feeling,\ndisposition, energy, general ability, cunning, and talents, instead\nof carrying out its realization over and over again according to a\nprinciple of universal import and acknowledged stability.\n\nThis type of contingency, then, is the characteristic quality of the\ncondition which we required for the ground upon which all the varied\nwealth of the Ideal is to appear.\n\n(_\u03b2_) In order to make more clear the actual character of the reality\nwhich is most adapted to artistic treatment we will contrast it with\nthat aspect of existence which is not so adapted.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) We find this pre-eminently where the ethical notion, that is,\njustice and rational freedom, have already won for themselves and\nmaintain a fixed position in the social _order_ regulated by _law_,\nso that, even in the external world, it appears as a positive and\nnecessary power, which is quite independent of the individuality and\nsubjectivity of specific temperament and characters. This is the\ncase in the life of the _State_, where that life is manifested in a\nform adequate to the true notion of citizenship. For obviously it is\nnot every chance association of human beings, any more than every\npatriarchal community, that will fulfil the requisites of State-life.\nIn the true State laws, customs, and rights, in so far as they\nconstitute the determinations of freedom applicable to all, are of\nparamount force even in this _universal_ and abstract relation, and\nare not conditioned in their applicability by the chance requirements\nof any individual's idiosyncracy. As the consciousness of society has\nissued for itself commands and laws in a mode of statement of general\napplication, in the same way these are externally valid as such\nuniversal fiat, which proceeds in the path of order thereby indicated,\narmed with powers of restraint and compulsion against any individual\nwho may attempt to assert his caprice in an injurious opposition to\nsuch regulations.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Such a condition at once assumes a dividing line between the\nuniversal ordinances of the regulative understanding and the immediate\nlife, connoting by this latter term the unity in which all that is\nsubstantive and essential in morals and the conduct of justice only\nfinds a form for its existence in the experience of _individuals_,\ntheir ethical feeling and opinion, that is to say, and thereby alone\nis exercised. In the civilized State right and justice, even religion\nand science, or, at any rate, provident interest in religious and\nscientific education, are subject to _public_ control, which directs\nand co-ordinates the same.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) The position, then, that isolated individuals occupy in the\nState is one which contracts them within a fixed and organized order,\nand subordinates them thereto; and they stand in this relation for\nthe reason that the character and disposition of each is not the only\nembodiment of ethical forces; but, if the State to which they belong is\na genuine example, they are on the contrary compelled to regulate all\nthe external detail of their actions, opinions, and feelings with a due\nregard to what is legally permissible, and to bring the same into line\nwith it. This dependence upon the objective rationality of the State\nin its power of self-assertion above all subjective caprice may either\nbe regarded as a mere subjection, inasmuch as laws and institutions\npossess, as the paramount power, a constraining force, or we may see\nin it merely the free recognition and acceptance of the reason that\nunderlies such a necessity of fact, an acknowledgment through which the\nindividual finds himself again in that objective order.\n\nBut even in the latter case isolated individuals continue to remain\nas merely incidental facts, and apart from the organic reality of the\nState possess no real substantiality in themselves. For substantiality,\nin the sense we here use the term, is by no means only the _particular_\nproperty of this or that individual, but a fully _explicit_\nreality[302], minted, as it were, in all aspects of it, and down to the\nmerest detail in a mode universally applicable and _necessary._ All\nthat mere individuals can effect with _volition_ and _accomplishment_\neven in actions right, moral, and legal in themselves in the interest\nof and attendant upon the progress of the whole, remains and must\nalways remain, in contrast with that whole, insignificant and a mere\nexample. Their actions are always only an entirely partial realization\nof a single case; and, moreover, the realization of the same has no\nuniversal significance in the sense that the particular example of it\nis thereby of objective validity as law, or, as such law, makes its\nappearance. And for the same reason, to put the matter the other way,\nit is wholly unimportant whether the validity of right and justice\nis acknowledged by private individuals judging as individuals. The\nvalidity is a vital fact of State life which holds whether it be\nacknowledged or no. No doubt it is a matter of interest to the general\npublic that every one should fall in with the order established and\ndesire it; but the wishes of isolated individuals have no influence\nupon that interest in the sense that it is only by virtue of the assent\nof this or that person that right and a moral order is preserved. Such\nrequire no such isolated example of assent; and a breach of either is\nfollowed by punishment.\n\nThe subordinate position of private persons in the civilized State\nis finally emphasized in the fact that, whatever share any one may\nhave in the general civic life, it is of a definite and in every\ncase restricted character. In the real State work must have some\nrelation to the general good[303], just as the active enterprise of\nthe bourgeoisie in the commercial business is subdivided in the most\nvaried way, so that the entire life of the State shall not appear as\nthe concrete achievement of any _single_ person, or in general can be\nentrusted to the arbitrary wishes, enterprise, courage, resources,\nand discretion of such, but on account of the fact that it comprises\nactivities and trades of countless complexity, and must be carried out\nby associations of business men at least as varied. The punishment of\na criminal is no longer an affair of personal heroism or the virtue\nof any _one_ individual, but is throughout the entire process, in the\ninvestigation and discovery of the felonious act, in the pronouncement\nof judicial sentence and its execution, contributed to by different\npersons; nay, every important phase of such a process is in the same\nway subject to some kind of division of labour. To see that the laws\nare properly administered, then, is not within the special province of\nany _one_ man, but results from an organized effort of great variety\nand the rules which direct it. Add to this every man who assists in\nsuch a process is bound to follow certain general principles which are\nlaid down for his guidance, and all that is carried out under their\ndirection is further subject to the criticism and control of yet higher\nofficials.\n\n(_\u03b3_) In all such civic relations, then, we find that in a truly\nregulated State the public authority is not impressed with the\nimprimatur of any single person, but it is the general Will which\nprevails here in its universality, a condition under which the\nparticular life of the individual has the appearance of vanishing or,\nat least, of becoming of a quite subsidiary importance. In a condition\nof things such as this the self-subsistency we were seeking for is\nout of the question. And for this reason we required for the free\nembodiment of individuality conditions which are precisely the reverse\nof this, in which the validity of the ethical principle derives its\nsupport from individuals, and only from individuals, men who make for\nthemselves a great place in the arena of life through the activity\nof exceptional volitional power and the inherent greatness and\neffectiveness of their character. With such right is simply that which\nthey choose to accept as such; and if that which is essentially moral\nis compromised by their action, there is no all-constraining public\nmight which brings them to judgment and exacts punishment, but only\nthe right of that inner voice of necessity, which accentuates itself\nas vital in particular character and through external circumstance\nand condition and only thus is actually existent. This is what\ndifferentiates _punishment_ from _revenge._ The punishment exacted by\nlaw asserts the validity of the generally applicable and carefully\ndefined right against the violation of that right, and makes use of\nthe public power according to a definite process as its instrument, in\nother words, it employs a tribunal and a judge, an instrument to which\npersonality is attached as something accidental. Even revenge may in a\nsimilar way find a justification; but such as it has is based entirely\non the _subjective conscience_ of those who deal with the criminal act,\nand, in pursuance of their own _private_ convictions, avenge themselves\non the unrighteous act and its perpetrator. The revenge of Orestes\nis, for example, justifiable; but he exacted it under the direction\nof the law which his own virtue prescribed, not as the execution of a\njudgment and a right. In the condition, then, that we claim as the most\nsuitable for artistic treatment, that which is moral and just must be\nthroughout personal, in the sense that its source is exclusively in the\nindividual life, and it only is actual in such dependence. Moreover,\nto proceed with our contrasted conditions, in regulated States the\nexternal environment of man is made secure, and properly is protected,\nand he is only permitted to retain in absolute independence for himself\nhis private views and opinions. But in that condition where the\nessential features of a State are not found the protection of life and\nproperty depends on the isolated energy and courage of each individual\nby himself, who is compelled to look after his own security and that of\neverything which belongs to him. Such a condition we are accustomed to\nidentify with the _heroic age._ It is not, of course, our province here\neither to discuss or decide which of these two contrasted conditions\nof life is the worthier; suffice it to say that, so far as the Ideal\nof art is concerned, it is imperatively necessary that this hard and\nfixed line between the universal as an independent existence and\nindividuality should be removed, however much this distinction may be\nnecessary in other directions for the realization of human existence.\nThe reason of this is that Art and its Ideal is just that universal,\nin so far as it may be presented to the perception of the senses, and\nby such presentment is permitted to enter into the variety and living\nforms of the world of objects.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) What we were looking for, therefore, is supplied us by the\nheroic age, for it is here that virtue, _\u1f00\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u1f74_ in the full sense of\nthat Greek word, creates the root-basis of actions. In this connection\nit would appear that we must distinguish between _\u1f00\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u1f74_ and _virtus_\nas understood by the Roman themselves. The Romans had already their\nState, Fatherland, and legal institutions, and as contrasted with\nthe State, as the controlling object of all, they had surrendered\npersonality. To be simply a citizen of Rome, to have one object for\nthe imagination and for every other personal energy to centre itself\nupon, namely, the fatherland and its sovereign majesty, therein lies\nthe earnestness and grit of Roman virtue. Heroes, on the contrary,\nare individuals who undertake and accomplish a complete enterprise\nin consistent reliance upon their personal resources and initiative,\nand with whom it is consequently a purely arbitrary act of their own\nwhen they execute anything in accordance with the moral principle.\nThis immediate unity, however, of what we may call the substantive\nimport and individuality of inclination, impulse, and will is the\ncharacteristic of Greek virtue. According to this view personality is\na law to itself without any further subjection to a law, judgment,\nand tribunal of independent subsistence. The Greek heroes make their\nappearance in an epoch anterior to legal enactment, or they are\nthemselves the founders of States, so that right and social order,\nlaw and ethical custom, emanate from them, and persist as their own\ncreation in an indefeasible relation to them. In this way Hercules was\nregarded so highly by the ancients themselves, and represents an Ideal\nof original and heroic virtue. His free and self-reliant virtue, with\nwhich he championed the right and battled against the monstrosities\nof men and Nature is not a prevailing characteristic of the age, but\nbelongs to him as an exclusive and unique possession. And we may add he\nwas not strictly a moral hero, as his reception of the fifty daughters\nof Thespius in one night[304] clearly shows us; neither would it\nappear from the tale about the Augaean stables is he pre-eminent for\ngentility. He is rather the general type of self-reliant strength and\nresource in its championship of right and justice, to exemplify which\nhe elected summarily and from a free choice to undergo countless toils\nand labours. It is true that some of his deeds were carried out at the\ninstigation of Eurystheus, but this submission is, after all, rather\na formal association than a real one, no connection at least of legal\nvalidity or inevitable necessity through which the strength of his\nself-reliant personality was diverted from its independent course.\n\nThe Homeric heroes are of a similar type. No doubt they have their\nclan chieftain; but the associating bond is no fixed relation already\ndetermined by law, which enforces their submission; of their own free\nwill it is that they follow Agamemnon, who is no monarch in the modern\nsense of the term. Consequently every hero volunteers his own advice,\nthe enraged Achilles acts independently for himself in his separation,\nand, speaking generally, each and all come and go, act, or take\ntheir leisure as they please. In much the same independent position,\nthat is to say, united in no fixed organization, to which they are\nas individuals entirely subordinate, we find the heroes of Arabian\npoetry portrayed, and even the Shah-Rameh of Ferdusi furnishes us\nwith similar examples. In latter-day Christendom the age of feudalism\nand knighthood supplies a fertile field for the free growth of heroic\nenterprise and the type of individuality which belongs to it. Of such\nare the heroes of the round table, no less than the heroic circle of\nwhich Charles the Great is the focus. Charles is, much like Agamemnon,\nsurrounded with independent chieftains of heroic mould, a union which\nas such is powerless[305]. He is consequently always compelled to\ntake counsel with them, however much each of them may be influenced\nby private passions; he may bluster like a very Olympian Jupiter,\nand none the less find himself and his undertakings suddenly left in\nthe lurch while his confederates are off on some adventures of their\nown. The Cid is perhaps the most complete example of the type. He,\ntoo, is the ally of a confederacy, the dependent of a king, and is\nbound to render duty as vassal; but in opposition to this obligation\nhe is pre-eminently influenced by the principle of honour, the purely\npersonal consideration of his own glory, nobility, and reputation[306].\nAnd so in this case also the king can only determine a fixed line of\naction and make war after consulting and obtaining the consent of his\nvassals. If this is not given they do not fight, and, moreover, a\nmere majority of votes is not sufficient to compel them. Every man is\nindependent of his neighbour, and exercises his will and steers his own\ncourse as such. We find in the accounts given us of Saracen heroes an\nequally brilliant picture of self-reliant and still more inflexible\npersonality. Even the Reinecke Fuchs fable is a fresh example of this\nstate of things. Here, it is true, the lion is master and king, but\nthe wolf and the bear sit in council. Even Reinecke and the rest do\njust what they like; and when there is a general outcry, the sly fellow\neither gets out of the mess with his story-telling, or manages to make\nsome particular interest of king and queen work to his own advantage,\nand in his own cunning way talks over his sovereign somehow.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Moreover, in much the same way that each individual example of\nthis heroic type of _personality_ persists in immediate unity with\nall that he may will, act, and accomplish, a similar unity is further\nmaintained in all the consequences which flow from such initiative.\nWhen we ourselves, on the contrary, act or estimate a particular\naction, we assume that only full responsibility can attach where the\nindividual under consideration is in complete possession of the true\nnature of his action and its attendant circumstances. If the content of\nthose surrounding conditions is otherwise than that which is present\nto the agent's consciousness in such a case a man nowadays will not\ntake upon himself the burden of all that is implied in his action. He\nwill thrust on one side that part of it which he would not have done\nhad he known completely or not misconceived the circumstances, and he\nonly accepts that which was fully under his cognisance and carried out\nwith deliberate intention in conformity thereto. The heroic character\nmakes no such distinction. He adheres simply to all the consequences\nand makes good his personal responsibility for the whole. \u0152dipus on\nhis way to consult the oracle meets a certain man, quarrels with him\nand strikes him. In those days such an act was not a crime at all.\nHe only returned a blow after being vigorously attacked. But the\nstranger was his father. \u0152dipus further marries a royal lady. His\nwife is his mother. Without knowing it he commits an act of shame.\nOn learning the truth he acknowledges such enormities to their full\nextent, inflicts a punishment on himself as murderer of his father and\na man of incest, and this although he was entirely ignorant of the\ntrue nature of these acts, or had any intention of doing them. The\nself-reliant stubbornness and entirety of the heroic character refuses\nto parcel out responsibility and knows nothing of such distinctions\nas personal intention and the objective act and its consequences. In\nthe evolution and ramification of an action as we moderns regard it\nthese opposed points of view constantly recur, and guilt is thrown into\nthe background as far as possible. No doubt our view of the matter\nis more in accordance with _ethical principle_, in so far as the\ncondition of a personal knowledge of the particular circumstances, or\nthe consciousness of an object good in itself, in short, generally the\nintent of an act, is what materially assists us in our judgment. But in\nthe heroic age, where we find the individual essentially indivisible\nand the objective act proceeding from himself as entirely his own, each\nperson claims absolutely all that he may do, and refuses to surrender\none jot or tittle of responsibility therefor.\n\nTo an extent equally minute the heroic figure is separated from the\nethical whole, to which he belongs, and his self-consciousness is bound\nup wholly in substantial unity with that whole. According to the views\nin vogue now we draw a line of distinction as private individuals\nbetween objects which are wholly personal and those which affect the\ncommunity. The individual acts in all that he does from his own private\npersonality as distinct from others, and views even his actions rather\nas relative to this than as part of all that is farmed out by the\norganic whole to which he belongs. We consequently make a distinction\nbetween individuals and their families. Such is unknown in the heroic\nage. The guilt of ancestors adheres to their descendants, and an\nentire family will suffer for the original defaulter. Men inherit\nthe fatality of guilt and transgression. A condemnation such as this\nappears to us unjust as an irrational subjection to a blind fate. With\nus the achievements of ancestors reflect no more honour on children and\ndescendants than the punishments and crimes of such contaminate those\nthat follow after them, and least of all is their private character\nthus affected; nay, modern opinion is already close to the view that\nthe confiscation of family property is a punishment which violates the\nprofounder conception of liberty. But in the ancient and more plastic\ntotality the individual is not so isolated, but rather a member\nof his family and race. For this reason the character, action, and\nfortunes of the family continue to be the private affair of each member\nof it; and so far from denying the actions of his parents, each man\nvoluntarily accepts them as his own; they live in him, and he is just\nthat which his fathers were, suffered, or transgressed. This appears to\nus a hardship, but that which we replace it with, this standing alone\non our own possessions[307], and the more subjective self-stability\nthus acquired is also from another point of view only the abstract\nself-sufficiency of each. The individuality of heroic times is none\nthe less of a more ideal type, because it does not declare itself as\nsatisfied with the mere form of freedom and infinity, but remains in\nunalterable and immediate unity with all that is most substantial\nin the relations of spirit which it of itself endows with living\nactuality. In such an individuality the substantial is immediately\nindividual, and the individual thereby himself essentially substantive.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) From considerations such as these we conclude that the ideal\nfigures of art must be sought for in the age of mythos, that is to say,\nspeaking generally, in past times, where we shall find the soil most\ncongenial to their growth. If such material is taken from the age we\nlive in, whose most native form, as we actually find it, is tightly\nshut off from the imagination, it matters not how we regard it, then\nthe modifications which the poet can hardly avoid making in it will not\nreadily escape the appearance of a purely artificial and intentional\ncomposition. The Past entirely belongs to memory, and memory perfects\nthe infolding veil of character, events, and actions in the vesture\nof universality, through which the particular external or contingent\ndetail is unable to penetrate. Many trifling circumstances and\nmediating conditions, many varied and isolated phases of activity, are\ninseparable from the actual existence of an action or a character: in\nthe mirror of memory all these insignificant details are obliterated.\nIn this liberation of his work from what is accidental in the\nexternal fact the artist has a freer hand for his artistic powers of\ncomposition, when dealing with that which is individual and particular\nin it, if the actions, histories, and characters are borrowed from\nancient times. He has, it is true, also historical memories, out of\nwhich he must mould a content conformable to the universal; but the\npicture of the Past possesses, as already observed, an advantage,\ntaken simply as a picture of greater universality, while the manifold\ntexture of mediating condition and circumstance, interwoven as it\nis in the entire framework of finite existence which surrounds it,\noffers him material ample enough to prevent his hand obliterating the\nindividuality, which is essential to his work of art. The more closely\nwe consider it, the clearer will be our conclusion that a heroic age\nhas the advantage over later and more civilized times in that the\nisolated character and personality generally in such an age does not as\nyet find what is substantive either in the sphere of ethical custom, or\nmoral obligation opposed to itself in the necessary embodiment of legal\ninstitution, and thereby presents immediately to the poet all that the\nform of the Ideal requires. Shakespeare has, for example, selected\nmuch material for his tragedies from chronicles and earlier romances,\nframed upon a condition of life which has not as yet received the\nimpression of a fully articulated social order, but in which the energy\nof individuals, as emphasized in personal resolve and achievement, is\nstill the prevailing characteristic. His genuine historical dramas\nhave, on the contrary, a vein of historical substance running through\nthem in the strictest sense, and for this reason lean farther away from\nan ideal exposition, although here, too, both circumstances and actions\nare made to fall in with, or are removed to suit, the unyielding\nself-sufficiency and wilfulness of particular characters. No doubt this\ncharacteristic remains for the most part in their case a purely formal\nself-inclusion, whereas if we contrast it with the self-subsistency of\nheroic characters we find that here the essential _content_ of all such\nhave proposed to accomplish is bound up therewith.\n\nIt is on account of this contrast that we should find a reason for\nrepeating the general thesis in connection with the Ideal, to the\neffect that the _Idyllic_ is exceptionally adapted for its expression,\ninasmuch as where that is presented the cleavage between what is\ndetermined by legal necessity and the living person is wholly absent.\nTo this we must reply that, however simple and original idyllic\nsituations may be, however far removed they may be from the artificial\nprose-existence of society, such simplicity, if we consider the nature\nof its content, has, in fact, too insignificant an interest to satisfy\nthe most substantial and essential requirements of the Ideal. Material\nof this sort fails entirely to include the most weighty motives of\nheroic character such as Fatherland, moral and family problems, and\ntheir development; it is a kind of treatment which is apt to select\nas the very core of its subject such a fact as the loss of a single\nsheep or the falling in love of a girl. In this way the Idyllic not\nunfrequently becomes merely the resource and recreation of our hearts,\nto which poets such as Gessner, for example, will add their dose of\nsickly sweetness and sentimentalism. The idyllic aspect of the days\nwe live in have, further, this defect, that this _na\u00efvet\u00e9_, this\ndomesticated or rural atmosphere in the emotional aspect of love or the\nenjoyment of a good cup of coffee in the open and things of that sort\nare not likely to awake much interest, when we find in them nothing but\nthe country parson flavour--find them cut off, that is to say, from\nall wider relations with the outside world, and not a trace of the\nprofounder web of purposes with which that world is interwoven. It is\nprecisely here that we have reason to admire the genius of Goethe, when\nhe concentrated his poetic talent on material of this kind in his poem\nof \"Hermann and Dorothea.\" It is true that he selects from the life of\nthe Present a particular theme of very limited extension, but at the\nsame time he unfolds before us as the background and atmosphere of the\npicture in which his characters are portrayed the great interests of\nthe revolution and his own native country, and, in short, associates\nwith a subject-matter necessarily narrow in its range facts of\nworld-history of the widest and most potent significance.\n\nGenerally speaking, we shall find that the ills of life and its evil,\nwar, battles, and revenge, are not excluded from the subject-matter\nof the Ideal, but are frequently the very source and substance of\nthe heroic age and its myths, whose form grows all the wilder and\nsterner in proportion to the remoteness of such a period from a fully\ndeveloped society of law and moral order. In the chivalrous adventures\nof knight-errantry we find the heroes of such tales themselves\noften enough sharing the savage and dissolute characteristics of the\ntimes, and in much the same way the martyrdom of the heroes of the\nChurch presupposes a condition of ferocious cruelty around them. At\nbottom, however, the Christian ideal, which is based on the depth and\ninwardness of man's spiritual nature, stands in a relation of entire\nindifference to the external world.\n\nWe have demonstrated that the condition of particular centuries is more\napplicable to the Ideal; in the same way Art selects pre-eminently\na particular class of society for the form under which the Ideal\nshall appear, the order, that is to say, of _princes._ And the\nselection is made not because art is necessarily aristocratic, or has\nany predilection for gentility[308], but simply on account of the\nperfection in which free will and its products may be exemplified\nimaginatively through the highly placed class. We have in the chorus of\nancient tragedy the characteristics and universal background of general\nmaxims, modes of imaginative thought, and emotion, before which the\ndefinite movements of the action proceed. In contrast to this appear\nthe more clearly defined individualities of the personages immediately\nconcerned in the action, men and women of authority, and belonging for\nthe most part to royal families. On the other hand, the main impression\nforced upon us, when seeing representatives of a lower class carrying\non pursuits which are of a narrower range, is one of subjection; and,\nindeed, in an artificial[309] state of society the freedom of action\nof such a class is fettered in every direction, and is necessarily\ninvolved with all its passions and interests in all the medley and\ndespotic forces of external circumstance. It is, in fact, held closely\nbehind the invincible power of the social order, which it is unable to\ncome out of, and is an alien from the authority of the dominant order,\neven when that is asserted in accordance with just principle. In this\nlimitation of outlook through the hard conditions of life all real\nindependence is wrecked. For this reason both the circumstances and\ncharacters which we find in such a sphere of life are more appropriate\nto the treatment of comedy, everybody being permitted in comedy to rate\nthemselves as they please, and to lay claims to a self-sufficiency\nin all that they will and think, which is none the less immediately\nnegatived by the spiritual no less than the external dependence of\ntheir lives. As a rule, such a false and second-hand self-subsistency\nmust inevitably fall to pieces when confronted with the actual\nconditions of life and the distorted view which is formed of them. The\nforce of circumstances is presented to the lower orders of society\non a totally different level from that in which it acts upon rulers\nand princes. In Schiller's \"Braut von Messina\" Don Caesar is able to\nexclaim, and justly: \"there stands no higher judge than myself!\" And\nwhen he has to be punished he must himself give judgment and execute\nit. He is, in fact, subject to no external necessity of right and\nlaw, and even when punishment is the question is wholly dependent on\nhimself. The characters in the Shakespearean drama do not entirely\nbelong to the princely order and only partially are taken from mythical\nsources, but they are placed in the era of civil wars, in which the\nties of social order and legislative enactment are either weakened\nor shattered, and they secure from such a condition the exceptional\nindependence and self-sufficiency we are looking for.\n\n(_b_) If we transfer our attention now from the characteristic\nconditions of society we have hitherto mainly considered to the actual\nstate of the world around us and its carefully articulated scheme\nof ethical, judicial, and political institutions, we shall not fail\nto observe that the material we have here offered us for figures of\ntruly ideal type is of a very restricted character. The province\nhere in which an entirely open field is presented for the display of\nindependent purpose in its fullest individuality is limited both in\nits range and the measure of opportunity. The qualities that make a\nman thorough in his relations to his own family and his business, the\nideals, in short, of honest citizens and excellent wives, in so far\nas will and activity are concentrated on the field in which it is\nstill possible for a man to exercise his free personality, to carry\nout, in short, all that he has a mind to do, this is the prevailing\nfeature of our modern society. Such ideals inevitably lack the depth\nof a fuller content, and the most significant feature of them is\nthat of the attitude of the individual mind to their realization;\nfor we find here the content is already presented by existing social\ninstitutions, and consequently the essential interest we take in it\ndepends on the particular way in which that content is realized and\nappears in the _personal life_, its moral and inward significance.\nFor this reason it is not possible, as in the case of former times,\nto create ideals from the positions of judgeship and kingship. If a\nman carries out his judicial functions nowadays in accordance with\nduty and the requirements of his office, he merely is acting within\nthe bounds already marked out for him by legislative enactments in\nthe social order as the sphere of his responsibilities. All that may\ncharacterize his tenure of office beyond this, as proceeding from\npersonal qualities, such as suavity of demeanour or acuteness of\njudgment, is not the main point or the substantial content, but rather\nan aspect of it which it is possible to dispense with as something\naccidental. In the same way the monarchs of our own day are no longer,\nas was the case with the heroes of mythical times, in themselves the\nembodying and culminating unity of society itself, but rather a more\nor less unsubstantial _centrum_ around which all legal and social\ninstitutions, however moulded in the course of time, group themselves\nin independent relations. All the most important functions of the\nexecutive have nowadays been separated from the royal prerogative.\nKings do not lay down the law, control finance; the preservation\nof social order is not one of their most characteristic functions.\nPeace and war are determined through the particular circumstances of\ninternational politics, which it is not within their power exclusively\neither to direct or control; and, if it happens that any important\ndecision with regard to either depends in the last resort on their\njudgment, such a decision is not generally so much in the nature of\nits substance the result of any personal preference, as it is the\nformal seal of monarchical authority on what is already determined on\npublic grounds, the mere imposition of that which is strictly official\nrather than personal in its character. In the same way, a general or\nfield-marshal of our times has unquestionably great authority; objects\nand interests of profound importance are under his control and his\ncircumspection; his courage, his determination, and his intelligence\nare involved in the weightiest decisions; nevertheless, whatever may\nbe definitely traced to the essentially personal characteristics of\nthe man has little opportunity for display in such a result. For, in\nthe first place, the objects upon which his decisions turn are not of\nhis own selection, and arise out of circumstances which lie beyond\nthe sphere of his influence rather than are spontaneously fixed by\nhimself; secondly, the means adopted to carry out such objects are not\nthe sole result of his initiative. On the contrary, they are supplied\nhim from sources which are not immediately under his authority or\npersonal influence, but stand rather quite apart from the sphere of his\nindividual powers as a general.\n\nTo sum up, then, though it is true that under the present condition of\nthe civilized world a man may act independently for himself in many\ndirections, the fact remains that in whatever direction he may turn\nhe is still only a member of a fixed order of society and appears as\nsuch limited in his range rather than the vital representative and\nindividual embodiment of society itself. He acts necessarily under such\na condition of restriction, and our interest in such a personality, no\nless than in the content of his aims and activity, is entirely devoid\nof completeness. In the end we are invariably driven to concentrate\nour attention on the purely personal interest, how far, that is to\nsay, he attained success, what was the nature of the obstacles and\ncomplications which, in either, through untoward chance or necessity,\nconfronted or distracted his progress. And if it is, moreover, true\nthat our modern personality is of infinite significance when we\nestimate the character thus manifested as a spiritual product, in\nits actions, sufferings, moral opinions, and conduct that is to say,\nit is also true that the moral content which is realized in such an\nindividual is of a restricted character, rather than, as is the case\nin the heroic times, the realization of universal right, custom, and\nlegality. The individual is no longer the exclusive vehicle and actual\nembodiment of these powers as in the previous times.\n\n(_c_) Our interest, however, in and need to have presented us such\na completely realized individuality and living self-dependence will\nalways persist, however strongly we may recognize the worth and\nreasonable nature of the more developed condition of an organized and\ntrained civic society. It is this necessity which makes us regard\nwith astonishment the youthful spirit of Schiller and Goethe when\nthey sought to discover that lost self-sufficiency in the prevailing\nconditions of modern times. How do we find in particular this attempt\nis made by Schiller in his earliest works? Simply by a rebellion\ndirected against the whole organic framework of civil society. Karl\nMoor, suffering injury from the existing order at the hands of those\nwho abuse the power entrusted them, has the courage to break the\nbonds which bind him to law and order altogether, cuts himself adrift\nand creates for himself a heroic situation, in which he appears as\nthe champion of right, and the self-constituted avenger of wrong,\ninjustice, and oppression. None the less, how insignificant and\nisolated must a private revenge of this kind appear, if we estimate\nit from the practical point of view, according to the probability of\nits success; and, in fact, in one aspect of it, it already contains\nthe germ of wrong which can only lead to the criminal act on which\nit will fall to pieces. No doubt, as personal to Karl Moor himself,\nthis is a misfortune, a fatality, however, which, despite the tragical\nelement in it, can only engraft on mere boys the blight of such a\n\"robber-ideal.\" In much the same way the characters depicted in \"Kabale\nund Liebe\" suffer wrong under prevailing conditions of life, absorbed\nin the trivial facts and passions wholly personal to themselves. It is\nnot until we come to the dramas of \"Fiesco\" and \"Don Carlos\" that we\nfind characters of nobler significance and more substantive content,\nheroes, for example, resolved to liberate their country, or assert the\nliberty of religious conviction. With a nobility still more striking\nWallenstein places himself at the head of his army that the crisis in\nthe political situation may come to a focus. He is fully cognisant\nof the nature of the political forces upon which his only means of\ncontrol, his army, is dependent; consequently he hesitates for long\nwhether to follow his private inclination or his duty. He has barely\narrived at a decision when he finds the instrument on which he most\ndepended slip from his grasp; his means of action is gone. For that\nwhich in the last instance unites the leading officers and generals\nis no gratitude for anything that may be due to him on the ground of\npast services rendered; his fame as a general has nothing to do with\nit, but rather the duty they owe to the universally recognized seat\nof government, the oath they have sworn to the head of the State,\nthe emperor of the Austrian monarchy. He finds himself consequently\nin the end isolated, and is not so much fought with and overcome\nby an external foe as he is stripped of all means of executing his\npurpose. He is deserted by his army and from that moment is a lost\nman. The \"G\u00f6tz\"[310] of Goethe starts from a dramatic situation of an\nanalogous though somewhat inverse type. The times of G\u00f6tz and Franz\nvon Sickingen belong to the interesting epoch in which knight-errantry\nand the self-reliant individuality of the class of nobility is being\nsuperseded by the new creation of an external and legally constituted\nsocial order. To have selected precisely this critical time where we\nfind the heroic characteristics of the Middle Ages and the legalized\nfabric of modern society meet and collide for the subject of his first\nartistic production shows much penetration on the part of Goethe.\nFor G\u00f6tz and Sickingen are still heroes in the genuine sense, who\nare resolved to exercise their influence over circumstances, whether\nimmediately affecting them or of wider range, out of the resources of\ntheir own personalities, their courage, and their private sense of\nright. The new order of things involves G\u00f6tz in acts of illegality and\nbrings about the catastrophe of his life. It is only in the Middle\nAges that knight-errantry and the relations of feudalism will supply\na field entirely open to this type of self-reliant manhood. When we\nfind, moreover, the legalized order co-ordinated more completely in\nits prosaic form, the predominant authority in fact, the adventurous\nself-dependence of knighthood is left outside it as an unrelated\nexcrescence; and if an attempt is made to assert it as though it were\nstill a valid means of attacking wrong, and assisting the oppressed, it\nbecomes simply an object of ridicule, such as Cervantes illustrates for\nus in his \"Don Quixote.\"\n\nIn this allusion to the opposition which exists between two\ndifferently constituted _r\u00e9gimes_ of society and the collision which\nresults from action in defiance of their particular character we have\nalready indicated what we have above defined generally as the closer\ndetermination and differentiation of the universal state of the world,\nthat is to say, the _situation_ as generally expressed.\n\n2. THE SITUATION\n\nThe ideal world-condition which it is the function of art to present\nin contrast to prosaic reality we may conclude from our previous\ndiscussion to be merely a general background of society of a specific\nkind; it is merely the _possible_ condition necessary for the\nparticular presentation, not the presentation itself. What we have\nhitherto directed attention to is, in fact, the general background\nupon which the living figures of art may appear. It is undoubtedly\nfructified with individuality and is supported by its self-subsistency;\nbut as a _general_ condition it is not yet the active movement of\nparticular individuals in the very form of life, just as we may say\nthat the temple which Art erects is not as yet the representation of\nthe personal godhead, but only encloses the germ of the same. For this\nreason we must in the first instance regard this world-condition as\na kind of medium in repose, a harmony, so to speak, of forces which\nare operative in it, and to this extent it possesses a substantial\nconsistency of uniform worth, which, however, must not be accepted\nas identical with what has been called \"the age of innocence.\" For\nit is a condition in the fulness and sovereignty of whose ethical\natmosphere the terrors of division only are slumbering because, in\nour contemplation of it, we have before us, for the first time, the\naspect of its substantial unity, and consequently are only presented\nwith individuality in its most universal terms, a mode of viewing it\nwhich makes it fade away as though without definition or any essential\ndisturbance of its unity, instead of giving to it the full value of\ndefinite characteristics. But such characterization is essential to\nindividuality. And if the Ideal is to appear as _definite form_ it is\nnecessary for it to escape from such pure universality, or in other\nwords for it to give the universal a particular expression, and by so\ndoing impart to it both existence and appearance. Art consequently has\nin this connection not only to translate into its medium a _universal_\nworld-condition, but must proceed beyond this quite indefinite\nconception to the composition of pictures of _definite_ character and\naction.\n\nRegarded from the aspect under which it affects _individual_ character\nthis general condition is the environment of circumstance which,\naccording to its specifically detached form, tends to excite both\ncollisions and development, forcing thereby the individuals thus\naffected to express their _nature_ and exhibit such expression in a\ndefinite form. From the point of view of the world-condition this\nself-revelation of particular individuals appears as the passing of its\nuniversality into the distinct embodiments of living individuality,\nan aggregate over which _universal forces_ still assert the\n_mastery._[311] For the eternal powers operative in the world-process\nconstitute the substantive content of the Ideal as specifically\ndefined in what it essentially is. The mode of existence, however,\nwhich is realized through the bare form of external condition is\nunworthy of this content. For in the first place such a condition is\nassociated with habit, and the habitual is no adequate determination\nof those profounder interests which are active in _self-conscious\nmind._ Furthermore, as we have observed, it was the _contingency_ and\n_caprice_ of individuality, by virtue of whose spontaneous activity\nthese very interests are permitted to appear in life; but this\nunessential contingency and caprice is again quite as little adequate\nto the substantive universality, which constitutes the notion of\nessential actuality. On these grounds respectively we are therefore\ncompelled to seek an art-envisagement more worthy and better defined\nfor the concrete content[312] of the Ideal.\n\nThis new configuration the universal powers can only retain in\nits _determinate existence_ in virtue of the fact that they are\nmanifested in their essential modes of difference and movement, or,\nto put the matter more specifically, through their assertion of the\ncontradictions which they relatively unfold. Two aspects of the\nprocess of individualization into which the universal thus passes must\nbe here emphasized. In the first place, there is the _substance_ as\nan embracing sphere of universal forces through the differentiation\nindicated, which is broken from its substantive unity into its\ncomponent parts; secondly, there are the _individuals_, which spring\nforth as the active completion of these forces and give to them a\nspecific objectification.\n\nNow what we have characterized as the difference and opposition in\nwhich the world-condition, hitherto harmonious with the individuals\nconditioned by it, is involved, if we consider it from the point of\nview of universal condition, is the manifestation of the _essential\ncontent_ which it carries in itself. On the other hand we observe that\nthe substantive universal in that condition is articulated through\nparticular units in such a way that this very universal procures\nfor itself determinate existence, albeit it is thus immersed in the\nappearance of chance, disunion, and division, an appearance, which,\nhowever, is rendered nugatory by the fact that it is the universal\nwhich thus appears.\n\nThe separation of these forces and their objectification[313] in\nindividuals can, however, further take place under definite conditions\nand circumstances, under which and as a constituent aspect of which\nthe entire objective appearance receives a determinate form, or as\nthe stimulative impulse of this very realization. By themselves such\ncircumstances are without interest[314], and it is only through their\nrelation to mankind that they receive such a significance, through\nwhose self-consciousness the content of these spiritual forces is\ncarried actively into objective appearance. The external circumstances\nare consequently only to be regarded of significance in so far as they\nsupply an essential relation to Spirit, in so far, that is to say,\nas they are comprehended by those individual units and afford them\na stimulus to actualize their inward _spiritual_ needs, the aims,\nideas, the determinate substance, in short, of all that requires an\nindividual embodiment. Regarded as a stimulating influence of this\nkind particular circumstances and conditions create what we have called\nthe _situation_, which is specifically presupposed in the actual\nself-expansion and activity of all that still lies undeveloped in the\nuniversal world-condition; it is for this reason we have considered the\nprevious determination of the notion of the situation as necessary to\nany inquiry into the true constituents of _action._\n\nThe situation expressed in general terms is in one aspect of it the\ncircumstance _particularized_ to the point of _definite character_,\nand under this characterization it is, to put it another way, the\nstimulating impulse to a particular expression of content, which it\nis the function of artistic presentation to transmute into a specific\nform of existence. Looked at from this latter point of view especially\nthe situation offers a wide field for contemplation, inasmuch as it\nhas ever been one of the most essential objects of art to discover\nsituations of real interest, that is to say, of such a kind as will\npresent to us the profound and weighty interest, the truest content of\nspiritual life. The requirements of the several arts in this respect no\ndoubt differ. Sculpture, for example, is pre-eminently limited in its\nreference to the inwardly detailed variety of situations. Painting and\nmusic are already operative in a freer and more comprehensive medium.\nFinally, we are least able among them all to exhaust the possibilities\nof poetry in this respect.\n\nSince we have not yet arrived at that portion of our subject where we\ndeal directly with the specific arts, it will be sufficient here to\ndraw attention to a few of the most general aspects of that inquiry,\nwhich we may subdivide in the following manner.\n\n_First_, we would observe that the situation still retains the\nform of _universality_ and thereby of _indeterminacy_, so long as\nit is undeveloped and without definite characterization; we have,\nconsequently, at first present before us a situation which is without\nsituation. For the form of indeterminacy is itself only _one_ form\nas opposed to its contradiction of determinacy, and is shown to be,\nby virtue of this very contrast, a one-sided aspect which as such\npossesses a determinate relation.\n\n_Secondly_, however, the situation passes in separation away from this\nuniversality, and becomes certainly determinate to that extent, but at\nfirst with a determinacy which produces no destructive consequences,\nthat is to say, it is one which offers no stimulus to _active\nopposition_ and its necessary resolution.\n\n_Thirdly_, we find the element of _disunion_ in all its vigour creating\nby the definition of its opposed characteristics the essence of the\nsituation, which thereby is carried into a _collision_, which again\nproceeds to reactions, and, as such, forms the point of departure to\nthe conception of artistic action properly so called.\n\nWe may, in fact, characterize the situation generally as the\n_intermediate plane_ between the universal world-condition still in\na state of equilibrium, and the concrete action unfolded in all its\ntendency to movement and reaction, a position which gives to it the\ncharacteristics of both extremes, and enables us to pass over from the\none to the other.\n\n_(a) The Absence of Situation_[315]\n\nWe passed from the notion of the universal world-condition in\npresenting to ourselves the form of it as essentially individual\nself-subsistency. Self-subsistency, however, regarded simply in its\nessential form, presents to us in the first instance merely the\nsecure repose upon its own resources in its bare tranquillity. The\nform as thus defined is carried into no relation with another, but\nremains at one with itself in inclusion with its unity both, within\nand without. This presents us with the situation which is without\nsituation, an illustration of which we may take those ancient types of\ntemple-building dating from the earliest days of art, whose character\nof profound immutable seriousness, of tranquil, nay even of austere\nand grandiose, dignity has been the object of imitation even in more\nrecent times proceeding on lines of a similar type. The Egyptian and\nmost ancient Greek sculptures will further illustrate for us the same\nkind of indeterminate situation. In the plastic art of Christianity,\nespecially if we consider particular examples of early bust-sculpture,\nwe shall find both God the Father and Christ are presented in a similar\nspirit. Indeed, such a mode of delineation is peculiarly adapted to\npresent us with the secure substantiality of the Divine, whether such\nbe apprehended as a definite and particular Godhead, or is grasped as\nessentially absolute personality; and this is so in virtue of the very\ndefect of such a representation, that it gives us portraits of persons\nof middle-age which are without any trace of definite situations,\nin which the character of the individual as such can reveal itself,\nand only the attempt is made to express the entirety of determinate\ncharacter in its quality of stability[316].\n\n_(b) The Situation defined in its Harmlessness_[317]\n\nThe second point to emphasize is, inasmuch as the situation generally\nis reached in the _definition_ of form, the passage from this\ntranquillity and blessed repose, or from the unbroken severity\nand force of self-consistency, forms which subsist in unfeatured\nequilibrium, that is to say, immutable both within and without, have to\nbe set in motion and surrender their undressed simplicity. This bare\nprogression to a more specific manifestation in some particular mode of\nexpression is what we may describe certainly as definite situation, but\na situation which has not yet asserted conflicting elements in itself,\nand is fully ripe for collision.\n\nThis first step in the process of individualized expression is\nconsequently of a kind that carries with it no further result; it is\nset in no antagonistic opposition to something else, in a relation\nwhich evokes both collision and reaction; it is already in its\ncharacter of unconstrainedness finished and complete in itself. With\nsuch a type of situation we may associate those which are mainly to\nbe regarded as a kind of play, in so far as all that proceeds or is\ncarried out in them indicates no real seriousness of purpose. For\nall earnestness in any kind of activity is generally the result of\noppositions and contradictions, which drive on their way to the final\nremoval or victory of one side or the other. For this reason situations\nof this kind cannot themselves be identified with actions, nor are they\nthe stimulative impulse of actions; they are indeed, in a certain\naspect, of determinate character, but they are either circumstances of\nthe most trivial significance, or a form of action which is without an\nessentially serious object, which either is the result of conflicts, or\nis able to carry the action yet further into conflicts.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The first thing to arrest us in this process is the passage\ngenerally from the repose of the unfeatured situation to a condition of\nemotion and expression: this is asserted partly as purely mechanical\nmotion, in part also as the first impulse and satisfaction of any\ninternal want. The Egyptians, for example, represented the gods in\ntheir sculpture with closely locked limbs. The Greeks, on the contrary,\nreleased both arms and legs, and endowed the bodily form with all\nthat is appropriate to the advance and general variety of movement.\nPermanent repose, a seated attitude, a tranquil gaze, are all of them\nsimple conditions under which the Greeks apprehended their gods; they\nare modes which unquestionably gave to the self-subsistent figure of\nGodhead a certain characterization, but one nevertheless which is\nnot carried forward into other relations and oppositions, but rather\nremains enclosed within itself, and permanently significant as such.\nSituations of this simple kind attach in a particular way to sculpture,\nand the ancients, above all others, were inexhaustible in discovering\nfit subjects for such a condition of unconstrained freedom. In this\nrespect they showed an extraordinary insight; for it is precisely\nthrough contrast with the insignificance of the particular situation\nthat the majesty and self-subsistency of the ideal types of the Greek\nPantheon were made to appear so striking. It was, in fact, through the\nharmlessness and insignificance of what appeared to be done or left\nundone that the blessed peaceful tranquillity and immutability of the\nimmortal gods was brought most clearly to consciousness. The situation\nmerely indicates the particular character of either god or hero in\nquite a general way, such as brings them into no relation with other\ngods, or at least into no relation suggestive of hostility or division.\n\n(_\u03b2_) It is a further step in the direction of more defined situation,\nwhen we find in such any particular purpose already represented in it,\nan activity which stands in definite relation to something external,\nand the self-subsistent figure itself expressed as within the sphere\nof such purpose or activity. Even objectification such as these,\nhowever, which have no real disturbing influence upon the tranquillity\nand cheerful blessedness of the figures represented, are rather to be\nregarded as particular modes of presentation incidental to this very\nquality of cheerful contentment. The invention of the Greeks was here,\ntoo, exceptionally thoughtful and fruitful. It is essential to the\nunconstrainedness of such situations that the activity here presented\nshould merely indicate an action in its initial stage in such a way\nthat no further developments or oppositions are likely to proceed from\nit, but that all that appears necessary to complete it should be found\nenclosed in the action depicted.\n\nAs an illustration of this the situation of the Belvedere Apollo is\nseized at the moment when he moves forward in wrathful majesty after\nslaying the Python with his arrow. A situation of this kind has\nnot the grandiose simplicity of the earlier Greek sculpture, which\nasserts for our intelligence the repose and open clarity of the gods\nby means of expressed actions of less significance. Take the case of\nAphrodite peacefully gazing at herself while emerging from her bath\nin full possession of her charms; or of fauns and satyrs at play,\nplay that is wholly absorbed in itself; or of that famous satyr who\ndandled the young Bacchus in his arms, while he looks down upon him\nwith infinite tenderness and grace; to say nothing of the endless\nvariety of unconstrained activities in which Eros is depicted. Such\nare a few examples of this type of situation. If the action is of more\nconcrete character we are confronted with a more involved situation,\nwhich, at least for the artistic presentment of the Greek gods as\nself-substantive powers, is less appropriate. In a case of this kind\nthe pure universality of the individual god is less able to transpierce\nthe accumulated detail of the particular action which he expresses. The\nMercury of Pigalli, which is a present of Louis XV to the exposition\nof statuary in Sanssouci, is fastening on his winged sandals. This\nis a perfectly harmonious action. The Mercury of Thorwaldsen, on the\ncontrary, is depicted under a situation which is almost too complicated\nfor sculpture. He listens attentively to the flute of Marsyas. At\nthe same time he is craftily spying him to see how he may slay him\nwhile his hand grasps maliciously for the dagger he has concealed. In\nopposition to this, if we may add one more illustration from a more\nmodern work of art, is that representation by Rudolf Schadow, of a\nmaiden binding her sandals in much the same simple manner as we find in\nthe case of Mercury. In this example the na\u00efvet\u00e9 of the situation does\nnot contain the interest we experience when it is a god who exhibits\nsuch unconstrained action. When it is only a maiden who fastens her\nsandals or spins, there is little else to engage our attention but the\nsimple action, which is by itself of little significance or importance.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We shall find further, if we follow up the above train of\nthought, that the more closely defined situation can be treated more\ngenerally, as merely a more or less definite stimulus presenting the\n_opportunity_ for further development of expressed action of wider\nrange related to the primary subject with varying degrees of affinity.\nMany lyrical poems have what we may call an occasional situation\nof this kind. A particular mood or a certain atmosphere of emotion\nis a situation which can be arrested poetically for consciousness,\nand, furthermore, in particular relation to external circumstances,\nfestivals, or public victories, is able to carry us forward to this or\nthat artistic expression, either of more comprehensive or restricted\nrange, and in every kind of embodiment of feeling and idea. Pindar's\nodes of victory are supreme examples of this type of occasional\npoetry. Goethe, too, has selected as the subject-matter of his muse\nmany lyrical situations of a similar character; and, in fact, if we\nlook closely into the matter, we shall hardly be wrong in calling his\n\"Werther\" a poem of occasion. It is through the medium of \"Werther\"\nthat Goethe has elaborated the convulsions and anguish of his own\nheart, incorporated, in short, the facts of his own experience in a\nwork of art. This, after all, is true of every lyrical poet; he gives\npoetical expression to that which nearly affects him, and thereby\nthrows the windows of his heart open to the fresh air. That which has\nhitherto been sealed up within is released in the external object,\nfrom which our humanity has freed itself, just as we are the lighter\nfor the rain of tears, in which the sorrow is wept away. So Goethe,\nas in fact he has told us himself, by his composition of Werther,\nliberated himself from the mastery and pressure of his heart troubles.\nAt the same time we must point out that this last-mentioned situation\nis not really appropriate to the type with which we are now dealing;\nit obviously presents the profoundest contradiction in itself which\ncalls for resolution. No doubt in the kind of lyrical situation we have\nidentified with \"the occasional\" we may have declared a circumstance\nobjectively determined, in other words, an activity in close relation\nto the external world; but, on the other hand, we find the poetic\ntemperament equally able to withdraw itself within the atmosphere it\ncreates wholly free from its external environment, and to make that\ninward world which is the combined product of circumstance and emotion\nits true point of departure.\n\n_(c) The Collision_\n\nAll the situations to which we have hitherto directed attention are,\nas already observed, neither true actions in themselves nor indeed the\nstimulative source of such action. Their determination was to a greater\nor less degree the purely occasional circumstance or condition, or an\naction in itself of no significance, in which a substantive content was\nexpressed in such a way that its specific character appeared as a mere\nharmless play, in which nothing of a truly serious nature was implied.\nThe full seriousness and weighty import of a situation can only begin\nwhen we find in it the element of disruption, where the determination\nitself exposes an essential aspect of difference, and by its opposition\nto something else becomes the source of a collision.\n\nThe _collision_ arises, as we are now considering it, in an act of\n_violation_, which is unable to retain its character as such, but is\ncompelled to find a new principle of unity; it is a change in the\npreviously existent condition of harmony, a change which is still in\nprocess. The collision is, however, not an _action_, and is to be taken\nsimply as stimulus to action to all that characterizes the situation.\nAnd this is true, although the contradiction in which the collision\nis enclosed may be the result of previous action. As an example of\nthis we may cite the trilogies of the ancients, which carry forward\nthe main theme by presenting at the close of one drama the collision\nwhich forms the stimulative impulse of the next, which, in its return,\nrenders necessary the resolution which is carried out by the third.\nAnd, moreover, for this very reason that the collision always requires\nsome resolution attendant on this conflict of opposing elements, the\nmore a situation is full of it the more it is peculiarly adapted to the\nsubject-matter of dramatic art, it being the especial claim of that\nart to present beauty in its completest and profoundest development.\nSculpture, on the contrary, is not wholly suited to give embodiment to\nany action, through which the great spiritual forces are manifested\neither in their division or reconciliation, and indeed the art of\npainting, despite its more extended spatial significance, is only able\nto objectify a single moment of action.\n\nThese situations of tragic significance introduce a peculiar difficulty\nin dealing with them which is inherent in their very conception. For\ninasmuch as they obviously arise from violations of the world-condition\nthey offer to our consideration circumstances which are unable to\ncontinue as they are, which render necessary something of a remedial\nnature to reclothe them. But the beauty of the Ideal consists precisely\nin its undisturbed unity, repose, and consummation with itself. The\ncollision, on the other hand, disturbs this harmony of what is truly\nreal and ethical, and drives this unity of the Ideal into discord\nand opposition. Through the representation of such disruption the\nIdeal itself suffers violation. The function of art will undoubtedly\nconsist partly in preventing the entire destruction of free beauty\nin this difference, and partly in only carrying this breach of unity\nand the conflict it occasions to a point in which harmony may again\nbe recovered as the result of such a conflict and its resolution,\nand in this way become manifest for the first time in its essential\nperfection. It is, however, impossible to determine on a general\nprinciple the precise limit to which such discordance may be carried\ninasmuch as the several arts in this respect preserve their independent\ncharacter. The medium of the subjective idea can support a far intenser\ndisruption than that of the plastic arts[318]. In other words,\npoetry is quite within its right when it breaks up the unity of the\nworld of the imagination even to the point of the extremest form of\ndesperation, and in its delineation of external objects to that of\nabsolute ugliness. In the case of the plastic arts, on the contrary, in\npainting, that is to say, and even more so in sculpture, the external\nform remains in unalterable fixity; it can neither be removed nor\nlightly passed over in such a way that it again disappears. Under such\nconditions it would be a serious defect to represent once and for all\nan ugliness, which could not possibly be transmuted. Consequently all\nthat would be quite compatible in dramatic poetry, which is able to\nrepresent a momentary appearance that again vanishes, is not within the\nprovince of the plastic arts.\n\nIn discussing the more obvious types of collision we can only in this\nportion of our inquiry indicate the most general points of view. We\nwould particularly draw attention to three fundamental aspects under\nwhich they may be co-ordinated.\n\n_First_, there are those collisions which proceed from purely\n_natural_, that is to say, physical conditions, in so far as these\nare characterized with qualities which are negative or evil and\nconsequently discordant.\n\n_Secondly_, we have collisions which are of a _spiritual_ nature,\nbut which depend on _natural_ conditions, conditions which may in\nthemselves have a positive[319] character yet for the spirit contain\nwithin themselves the seeds of difference and contradiction.\n\n_Thirdly_, there are divisions which are caused entirely by disruption\nin the Spirit alone; to these alone we are justified in attaching the\npeculiar interest of contradiction which is bound up with genuine\n_human activity_.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Now with reference to the first type of conflicting forces--for\nthe reason that here it is only external Nature, through the\nmaladies and other evils and infirmities which are incidental to\nher creating, conditions which destroy the pre-existent harmony of\nlife, replacing such with a state of antagonism--such can at most\nmerely serve as a stimulus for something outside them. Regarded\nwholly by themselves such collisions are of no interest; they are the\nsubject-matter of art simply for the sake of the disruption which may\nfollow as a _consequence_ of some natural misfortune. The \"Alcestis\"\nof Euripides, we may add, too, that of Gluck, the subject of whose\nopera is practically the same, are examples of this; in both the\nsickness of Admetus is necessarily presupposed. That sickness merely\nby itself could not fitly supply a subject for artistic treatment.\nIt only becomes, even in the handling of Euripides, associated with\nit by virtue of the individual characters, who, on account of such\nmisfortune, are compelled to face a further collision. It is the word\nof the oracle that Admetus must die unless another will pass to the\nunderworld for his sake. Alcestis, out of love for her husband, devotes\nherself to such a sacrifice, resolves to die, in order to restrain\nDeath from touching her beloved, the father of her children, the king.\nIn the Philoctetes of Sophocles a physical malady is also the cause of\nthe collision. Here the Greeks during their voyage to Troy place the\nman who is suffering from a wounded foot, caused by the serpent's bite\nin Chrysas, on the island of Lemnos. In this case, too, the physical\nmishap is merely the extreme meeting point and incentive of a further\ncollision. For, according to the prophecy, Troy can only fall when the\narrows of Hercules are in the hands of the storming army. Philoctetes\nrefuses to give them up because he has been compelled for nine years\nto suffer the martyrdom of his banishment. This refusal, no less than\nthe fact of his unrighteous desertion from which it springs, could have\nbeen followed by every variety of result other than that which took\nplace; the real interest accordingly does not centre in the malady and\nits physical necessity, but in the opposition which arises from the\nrefusal of Philoctetes to surrender the arrows. The case of the plague\nin the Greek camp before Troy is very similar; although this is already\nrepresented entirely as the consequence of former transgression, as a\npunishment, in short, a mode of statement more adapted to epic than\ndramatic poetry, nevertheless it is closely associated with evils\nincidental to natural misfortune such as storm, shipwreck, and drought.\nAs a rule, however, art will not represent such mischance as mere\naccident, but rather as an obstruction and misfortune whose necessity\nsimply consists in assuming precisely this particular form rather than\nanother.\n\n(_\u03b2_) But, to turn now to our second type of the collision, inasmuch\nas the external powers of Nature are not that which is most essential\nto the interests and contradictions of human life, in cases where they\nare found closely associated with such spiritual relations, they will\npresent themselves merely as the ground from which the collision breaks\nforth in its true character. This is the point of view from which we\nmust regard all situations, where we trace the original source of\nconflict in the facts of natural _birth._ We will shortly distinguish\nbetween three particular cases of this.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In the first place we have the right that is bound up with\nnatural condition, that which constitutes relationship and inheritance\nfor example, which for the very reason that it stands in close\nconnection with Nature carries with it a number of relations that are\nbound up with her, and this though the right, the fact is one and only\none. The most important example of this is the right of succession to\nthe throne. It is important to observe that this right must not as\nyet, in relation to the collisions which spring from it, be absolutely\nfixed by rule, otherwise the resultant conflict will be of quite\nanother character. If, that is to say, the right of succession is\nnot as yet entirely controlled by legislation and the social order\nwhich it implies, no wrong will necessarily attach to any one of the\nalternatives, namely, whether it be an older or younger brother, or any\nother relative of the royal household who obtains the sovereignty. But\ninasmuch as sovereignty is a qualitative rather than a quantitative\npossession, which cannot like gold and other material goods be divided\nup according to a just principle, dispute and contention is inevitably\nthe result of such a form of succession. When \u0152dipus, for example,\nleaves the throne of Thebes without a ruler, he leaves his two sons\nconfronting each other with a right and claim of equal strength. The\nbrothers arrange to occupy the throne alternately from year to year.\nEteocles, however, breaks the compact and Polynices brings an army\nagainst Thebes to enforce his right. The antagonism of brothers has\nalways been in the history of art a fruitful source of collision; it\ncommences indeed with the story of Cain who slew his brother Abel. In\nthe tale of Shah-Rameh, the earliest example we have of a Persian book\nof heroic legend, it is a contention of throne succession which is the\nsource of the most varied conflicts. In this Feridu divided the Earth\namong his three brothers. Selm receives as his portion Rum and Chawer;\nTuran and Osin are given to Thur, and Fredysh becomes lord of the Earth\nfrom Iran. All three, however, claim the land which belongs to his\nbrothers, and endless quarrels and wars are the result. In the Middle\nAges we find just the same countless examples of family and dynastic\nbroils. Such dissensions, however, appear in themselves to be due to\naccidental circumstance. It is not necessary that brothers should be\nat enmity; particular circumstances and more important causes must be\nattached, such as the in itself tragic birth of the sons of \u0152dipus, or,\nas we find in \"the Bride of Messina,\" the author is at pains to shift\nthe quarrel of the brothers on to still more fateful circumstances.\nIn Shakespeare's \"Macbeth\" a similar collision is the foundation of\nthe tragic d\u00e9nouement. Duncan is king and Macbeth, as his nearest\nand oldest relation, is consequently heir to the throne with a right\nprecedent even to Duncan's sons. The primary incentive of Macbeth's\ncrime is the wrong which the king has done him in naming his own son as\nheir to the throne. This justification of Macbeth, which is supported\nby the chronicles of the time, Shakespeare has entirely passed over,\nbecause, it was solely his object to bring into startling relief the\nrepulsive aspect of Macbeth's ambitious passion, in order thereby\nto make his work agreeable to King James, who would be naturally\ninterested in finding the crime of Macbeth depicted without extenuating\ncircumstances. As a consequence we can find no sufficient reason why,\nunder Shakespeare's handling of the subject, Macbeth fails to murder\nthe sons of Duncan no less than their father, lets them escape in\nfact; nor can we understand why they are wholly overlooked by the\nnobles. However, the entire collision upon which, the drama of Macbeth\nturns carries us beyond the particular type which we are now mainly\nconsidering.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) In the _second_ of our examples in the type of collision[320]\nwe are now discussing we find the reverse situation to that just\ndiscussed, and it consists in this that difference of birth, which\ncarries within itself a _wrongs_ is moreover, through ethical _custom_\nor _law_, held within the chains of an insuperable _barrier_, so that\nit receives at the same time the appearance of an innate wrong, and\nconsequently is the cause of collisions. Slavery, serfdom, differences\nof caste, the position of Jews in many states and, with certain\nqualifications, even the contrast between an aristocratical and citizen\nclass are all of them cases for consideration under this head. The\nconflict here consists in this, that on the one hand humanity has\nrights, relations, desires, aims and requirements which belong to it\nessentially in virtue of its fundamental idea, which nevertheless\nin each one of the above mentioned examples meet with dangerous\nrestriction and obstruction owing to the compulsive necessity of\nnatural birth. On this type of collision we have the following remarks\nto offer.\n\nThe differences which obtain between classes, such as the ruled and\nthe rulers, are, no doubt, essential to the notion of state-life,\nand are founded on reason, for they are caused by the inevitable\narticulation of the organic community, and assert themselves as such\nthrough the specific forms of occupation, disposition, modes of life,\nand general levels of education in all their branches. It is another\nmatter, however, when these differences as they affect individuals are\ndetermined absolutely by the accident of birth, so that the individual\nman from the very start is not on account of any quality in himself,\nbut solely through the accident of Nature, irrevocably relegated\nto a particular class or caste. In such a case it is obvious these\ndifferences appear as innate and are, moreover, though purely external,\ngirt with force in its highest and most aggressive mode. We are not\nbound to ask ourselves how this fixity and compulsive restraint came\noriginally into existence. For the nation may originally have been\nunited, and the natural distinction between freeman and serf been only\nevolved at a later time, or the difference between castes, classes,\nand privileged persons may have grown out of earlier distinctions of\nnations and races, as many are inclined to think is the explanation of\nthe caste distinctions of India. All this is a matter of no moment to\nus here. The main point simply consists in this, that vital relations\nof this kind, which regulate the entire course of human existence,\nhave their source in natural conditions. On general principles, no\ndoubt, distinctions of class can be justified, but at the same time no\nindividual should be wholly robbed of his right to determine as his\nchoice may direct to which particular class he shall belong. Natural\ncapacity, talents, adaptability, and education are the only right\nmeans to direct the way and decide in this respect. When, however,\nthe right of choice is debarred from birth onwards and a man is made\nthereby dependent on Nature and its contingency, there is always the\npossibility of conflict within the sphere of this necessity between\nthe states thus enforced on the individual by natural conditions and\nthe measure of spiritual education which he may acquire and the higher\ndemand which it may justly make. This is a pathetic and unfortunate\ntype of collision which has its source in an essential _wrong_ which\nthe freedom of art is quite unable to respect. In the social condition\nof our own days distinctions of class, with a few exceptions, are\nnot determined by birth. The ruling dynasty and the peerage are the\nonly exceptions, and these depend on a higher conception of the State\naltogether. For the rest, the mere fact of birth creates no essential\ndistinction that can ultimately determine the class to which a man\nmay belong if he is otherwise competent to join it. For this reason,\nhowever, we must condition the demand for entire liberty of choice\nwith the requirement that in education, knowledge, ability, and\ngeneral tastes the individual is equal to the particular society with\nwhich he may desire to associate. If, on the contrary, the fact of a\nman's birth presents an insuperable obstacle to such claims, which he\nwould otherwise be quite competent to satisfy by virtue of his own\nvigorous activity, then such a situation must appear to us not merely\na misfortune, but essentially a wrong under which he is compelled to\nsuffer injury. He is thus separated by a purely natural partition\nwall which is essentially unjust, that is to say, one beyond which\nhis talents, sentiments, and general education have already raised\nhim, from that which he was competent to reach, and a purely natural\ncondition whose legalized fixity has been determined wholly by caprice\npresumes to oppose insuperable barriers to the freedom rightly demanded\nby all spiritual life.\n\nTo examine more closely the nature of this type of collision we shall\ndo well to look at it from three different points of view, each of\nwhich are of essential importance.\n\nIn the _first_ place, it is necessary that the individual should, in\nthe strength of his own spiritual resources, already really have passed\nbeyond the natural barriers whose opposition is to give way before\nhis aims and desires, otherwise the demand is simply an act of folly.\nIf, for example, a domestic servant, whose education and ability is\nmerely that of a menial, falls in love with a princess or a lady of\nhigh society, or, inversely, either of these with him, such a love\naffair is both absurd and devoid of all taste, and this is so even if\nthe artistic representation of this passion display all the depth and\ninterest of which an ardent heart is capable. In such a case it is\nnot so much the difference of birth which creates the obstacle; this\nis rather to be found in the entire content of interests, education,\naims of life, requirements, and mode of sentiment which distinguish in\nstatus, material resources, and social qualifications a lady in high\nposition from a domestic servant. If love is, as in the case assumed,\nthe one and only bond of a union, and is associated with nothing else\nthroughout the entire sphere of all that men and women have to live\nthrough in just accordance with that which a particular status requires\nfrom their intelligence and experience, it must necessarily remain\ndevoid of content and is simply a union of the senses. Love, to be\nwholly complete, is nothing less than a real harmony of the entire\nconscious life, in which the full nobility of sentiment can be shared\nand appreciated.\n\nThe _second_ case we wish to examine is that in which the dependence of\nbirth surrounds an essentially free human life and the objects it may\nrightly set before itself with legalized fetters of obstruction. This\ncollision also presents an element unadapted for artistic treatment,\nopposed, that is to say, to the notion of the Ideal, despite its love\nto make use of it and the facility with which it may attempt to do\nso. If distinctions of birth through positive laws and the powers\nwhich support them create a persistent wrong, as doubtless may be the\ncase where a man is born an outcast or a Jew, he obviously, from one\npoint of view, is entirely right in holding with all the strength of\nhis inward life, which rebels before such a barrier, that the same is\ndissolvable, that he, in fact, recognizes his individuality as apart\nfrom it. To oppose such restraint appears to be wholly justifiable.\nBut in so far as it becomes impossible through the force of existing\ncircumstances to overcome such a barrier, which is consequently\nconverted into an irrevocable necessity, a situation of this kind can\nonly be regarded as a misfortune which itself is not without an element\nof falsity. For the rational man is inevitably forced, in so far as\nhe is unable to subjugate the opposing necessity, to submit to the\nsame: it is not in reason to continue to fight against the inevitable,\nbut rather quietly to let it pass over him. He must, in fact, abandon\nthe sense of interest in and need of that which is, by virtue of this\nbarrier, swept from his reach, and suffer what he fails to overcome\nwith the quiet courage of passive endurance. Where a struggle is of\nno avail it is the part of wisdom to be quit of it in order at the\nleast to retire into the _formal_ independence of personal liberty.\nBy doing so the forces of wrong have no longer power over him; if, on\nthe contrary, he battles against them he must necessarily experience\nhis dependence in its fullest extent. At the same time it remains\nunquestionable that neither this abstraction of formal independence any\nmore than that content which can lead to no result are truly beautiful\nwhen artistically considered.\n\nThere is a _third_ type of collision which, while being immediately\nconnected with that we have just considered, is equally removed from\nthe genuine Ideal. It is to be found affecting that class of persons\nwho attempt to assert some privilege which the mere fact of birth\nconcedes them and supports with the full weight of a religious title,\npositive enactments, and the prevailing conditions of society. In such\na case, it is true, we have an independent position in harmonious\nrelation with what is externally realized in positive institutions,\nbut when considered as the mere consistency of that which is in itself\nunjust and irrational it is quite as much as in our former example a\npurely formal independence, and the notion of the Ideal disappears.\nWe may, no doubt, very possibly persuade ourselves that the Ideal is\nretained because we have here an appearance as though the personal life\nis in full union with the universal and its legalized constitution,\nremaining consistently in such unity; but it will be observed that here\nthe universal does not assert its dominating power in the _particular\nperson_, as we found the heroic Ideal demanded, but only in and through\nthe public authority of positive laws and their administration;\nmoreover, what the individual here asserts is assumed to be essentially\nwrong, and he loses in consequence the substantive significance which\nwe have seen to be also essential to the Ideal. An affair in which the\nideal subject of art is concerned must itself be at bottom true and\njustifiable. To this type belong the legalized lordship exercised over\nslaves or serfs, the right to rob a foreigner of his liberty, or to\nsacrifice the same to the gods. No doubt it is quite possible that such\na right may be sustained by individuals with unquestioning belief that\nthey are justified in so doing, as in India, for example, the higher\ncastes make use of their privileges, or as Thoas ordered the sacrifice\nof Orestes, or in Russia the lords are wont to flout their serfs.\nIn fact, those who are in authority are very likely to execute such\nrights as legalized rights on account of the interest they may have in\npreserving them. But in a case of this kind their right will be merely\nthe unrighteous right of the barbarian, and they must themselves appear\nto us in the category of barbarians, at least, who resolve to carry\nout and perfect what is essentially injustice. The legalized form,\nunder which the individual shelters himself, is, for the time to which\nit belongs, and its spirit and the educational standard adapted to\nit, no doubt to be respected and justified. But if we reflect upon it\nrationally and apart from that, it is wholly positive[321], containing\nno intrinsic claims or authority. Moreover, if the individual makes use\nof his privileges for purely personal objects, under the mastery of\nparticular passions and the aims of mere selfishness, in addition to\nour barbarian we get a bad character to boot.\n\nPoets have frequently sought to arouse our pity, and it may be our fear\nas well, through the presentation of conflicts of this kind, following\nthe rule of Aristotle, who lays it down that fear and compassion are\nobjects of tragedy. Strictly speaking we experience neither fear nor\nreverence when confronted with rights which only exist among barbarians\nand are the misfortune of uncivilized times. Any compassion which such\nsituations are likely to arouse is almost immediately converted into a\nspirit of indignant hostility. The only true artistic _d\u00e9nouement_ of\nsuch a conflict is one where we find such illegitimate rights are not\ncarried into execution, as, for example, neither Iphigenia nor Orestes\nare respectively sacrificed in Aulis and Tauris.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) The _third_ and last class of that type of collision which is\nbased on purely natural condition is that which is duetto personal\npassion caused by natural peculiarities of temperament and character.\nThe jealousy of Othello is a supreme example of this. Ambition,\navarice, nay, even love itself in certain aspects, will furnish other\nillustrations. Collision of this kind is only properly referred to such\npassions in so far as individuals, seized and dominated exclusively by\nthe power of such emotions, are thereby forced into antagonism with\nthe truly ethical constitution and inherently justifiable course of\nhuman existence, and consequently are plunged into a still more serious\nconflict.\n\nThis carries our inquiry into the consideration of that third\nsubdivision of our original classification of general types of\ncollision, the type of which is based exclusively upon the conflict of\nspiritual forces, in so far as such opposition is the result of human\nactivity.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We have already observed when dealing with purely natural\ncollisions that they only form the starting-point as it were for\nfurther states of contradiction. And the same is more or less true\nof the second type of conflict already adverted to. All these, in\nartistic compositions of really profound significance, are unable to\nremain in such forms of opposition as we have hitherto discussed. Such\ndisturbances and conflicting elements merely substantiate the opportune\nmoment, out of which the true and essential forces of spiritual life\nwill clash together in opposition and contend for the mastery. That\nwhich is spiritual can only be set in activity by virtue of spirit.\nConsequently the oppositions of Spirit can only win reality in actual\nhuman deed, can only thus manifest themselves in their true character.\n\nThe position we have arrived at, then, is this. We have on one hand a\ndifficulty, an obstacle, a violation effected through something human\nlife has carried out in action. We have on the other a violation of\ninterests and forces intrinsically just and right. By treating these\ntwo forms of determination in close juxtaposition we, for the first\ntime, are able to gauge the full depth of this last type of collision.\n\nWe may distinguish between the prominent examples which fall within the\nconsideration of this class of cases as follows:\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In passing from the sphere of that type of conflict which we\nhave pointed out rests for its primary basis on what is entirely due\nto Nature we observe that the first class of cases which confronts us\non crossing the boundary to the consideration of a new type is closely\nrelated to that we have just left behind us. If, then, human action\nis assumed to be responsible for the collision, it will follow that\nwhat is carried out as natural through human action, that is to say,\nin so far as humanity is not entirely _spiritual_, will consist in\nthis that a particular action is performed _unconsciously_ and without\npurpose, which will be found afterwards to be a positive infraction of\nthe forces of self-respecting and civilized society. The consciousness\nwhich any man latterly acquires of the injurious nature of an action,\nof which he was previously unaware, will drive him who still accepts\nthe responsibility of such an action into division and conflict. The\nground of such a conflict, in fact, consists in the opposition with\nwhich the mind is confronted between that which was actually before\nit _when the action took place_, and the subsequent discovery of all\nthat was really _implied_ in the act itself. The cases of \u0152dipus and\nAjax will at once suggest themselves as examples. The action of \u0152dipus,\nif viewed simply with reference to his will and knowledge, amounted\nmerely to the fact that he killed a perfect stranger in a quarrel.\nThe unconscious act was the reality in its full significance, that\nis to say, the murder of his own father. Ajax, in a fit of frenzy,\nslaughtered the cattle of the Greeks believing them to be the Greek\nchieftains. On regaining his senses and discovering what he really did\nhe is seized with a sense of shame which drives him into collision with\nhimself. We must, however, observe that what has been unconsciously\nviolated by a man in the type of collision we are now examining ought\nto be something which he himself, when fully in a position to judge,\nwould both honour and revere. If such a reverential attitude has its\nroots merely in personal idiosyncrasy or superstition, such a collision\ncan arouse, to say the least, no really profound interest.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Further, inasmuch as in the cases we are now discussing the\nconflict arises from a _spiritual_ violation of spiritual forces\nthrough human action, the collision more generally appropriate to\nthe type will consist in a violation which is perpetrated with full\nconsciousness _proceeding out of such_ and the intention it implies.\nThe point of departure here may centre again in passion, violence,\nfolly, and other similar qualities. The Trojan war, for example,\noriginates in the rape of Helen. Agamemnon afterwards sacrifices\nIphigenia, and so violates the feelings of her mother, slaying thus the\ndarling of her womb. Clytemnestra, in consequence, murders her spouse.\nOrestes avenges the murder of his father and king by assassinating his\nmother. In a similar way in \"Hamlet\" the father is sent to his grave by\na stratagem, and the mother of Hamlet insults the _manes_ of the dead\nman by a precipitate marriage with his murderer.\n\nIn the case of these collisions as in those already considered, the\nmain point is this, that humanity is engaged in a self-imposed conflict\nwith what is intrinsically moral, true, and worthy of reverence. If\nthis is not so, then, for all who are really conscious of what is moral\nand right, such a conflict can only appear without worth or material\nsignificance, as is the case, for example, in the famous episode of the\nMah\u00e2-Bh\u00e2rata, with reference to Nalas and Damayanti. King Nalas marries\nthe princess Damayanti, who is allowed the privilege of making a free\nchoice among her sisters. All the other suitors are genii floating in\nthe air; Nalas stands on the Earth alone as a man, and she has the good\nsense to select him. The genii are consequently much enraged, and watch\nfor the moment when they may find King Nalas tripping. For many years\nthey can bring to his charge no offence, as he is capable of none.\nAt last, however, they obtain power over him, for he commits a great\ncrime; the crime is this, namely, that after making water, he treads\nwith his foot upon the earth thus watered. According to Indian ideas\nthis is a severe offence which cannot escape punishment. From that\nmoment the genii have him in their power; one renders all his amatory\ndesires abortive, another excites his brother against him, and finally\npoor Nalas, after forfeiting his throne and being reduced to beggary,\nis driven forth a wanderer in wretchedness with Damayanti. At length\nhe is even compelled to part with her, until, as the tale will have\nit, after many adventures, he is once more set on the throne of his\noriginal happiness. The real conflict upon which for the Indians of old\ndays the whole of this story was supported was an essential desecration\nof a sacred thing: according to our notions the tale is absurd from\nbeginning to end.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Thirdly, it is not necessary that the disruption should be\ndirect, or, in other words, that the action taken solely by itself\nshould be an act of collision; the fact of collision may well appear\nout of relations and circumstances of opposition and antagonism which\nare forced upon the mind during the process of that action's execution.\nJuliet and Romeo are in love with one another. In the mere fact of\ntheir love there is nothing to suggest disunion. But they are aware\nthat their families are living in mutual hate and hostility, that their\nparents will never consent to the marriage, and they are carried into\ncollision by virtue of this preassumed situation of antagonistic forces.\n\nWe must content ourselves here with these very general remarks upon the\nrelation which the determinate situation occupies in its opposition\nto the universal world-condition. Were we to extend our inquiry into\nall the divergent aspects, modifications, and nuances of the subject,\nattempting thereby to express an opinion upon every possible form of\nsituation, this chapter would alone present us with sufficient matter\nfor discussions of endless prolixity and diffuseness. The discovery of\ndifferent situations implies a content of exhaustless possibilities;\nand in every particular example the essential question involved is\nhow such may be adapted to the treatment of any specific art, in true\nsubordination to the principles and character of such an art. To the\nfairy story much is permitted which is forbidden to a more stringent\nmode of artistic representation. And we may say that generally the\ndiscovery[322] of the situation is a critical point in the process of\nart-production which often presents great difficulty to artists. In our\nown days the difficulty of obtaining a suitable subject-matter as a\nsource for the circumstances and situations which the artist requires\nis a common complaint. At first sight it may appear to us more in\nkeeping with our notion of poet if he borrow from his own resources,\nand invent situations himself; but such independence does little to\nincrease his claims as a creative artist. For the situation does not\ndirectly constitute the spirituality of his work nor indeed give us\nits true artistic form: all that it does is to supply the external\nmaterial in which as its appropriate medium a character or temperament\nis unfolded before us. It is only after working into this external\nmaterial in which actions and characters find their starting-point\nthat the true genius of the artist is actively displayed. The poet\nconsequently has little or no claim to our thanks for merely having\nhimself invented this least of all poetical aspects of his production.\nHe is, in fact, fully entitled to draw as much and as frequently as he\npleases from anything that comes to his hand, whether it be history,\nsaga, mythos, or chronicle, nay, even from material and situations\nwhich have already been artistically treated. Just as we find in the\nart of painting the external matter of the situation is borrowed from\nlegends of saints, and the process has been repeated on similar lines\nover and over again. To discover the real artistic significance of\nsuch artistic work we must penetrate far beyond the mere invention of\nparticular situations. The same remarks will apply in full force to\nthe entire wealth of the circumstances and developments artistically\nhandled. In reference to this it is frequently claimed as a virtue of\nmodern art in contrast with that of the ancients that we find in it\nan infinitely more exuberant imagination. As a matter of fact, we do\nfind in the artistic creations of the Middle Ages and our modern world\nthe most extraordinary variety and interfusion of situations, events,\nand occurrences, whether tragic or otherwise. This fulness of detail,\nhowever, does not take us far. In spite of it all we have very few\ndramas or epics of the first excellence. For the main point is not the\nexternal course and interchange of a variety of events, when we find\nsuch events and histories merely complete the entire content of our\nwork of art; rather it is the ethical and spiritual form which embodies\nthem, and the masterful movements of temperament and character which\nare exposed and unveiled during the entire process of this artistic\nembodiment.\n\nGlancing now at the main position we have arrived at, and from which\nour inquiry will proceed, we have found that circumstances, conditions,\nand relations, whether determined with a reference to the external\nworld or the subjective consciousness, only create the situation by\nvirtue of the _temperament_ or passion which experiences them and\nderives its nutriment through them. We have further seen that the\nsituation breaks up this determinate form in opposition, obstruction,\ndevelopment, and disruption, so that the _emotional_ life feels itself\ncompelled by the force of the affecting circumstances to _react with\nenergy against_ this disturbing and restraining influence, which stands\nin the way of its objects and passions. It is here, in truth, that\nthe action, strictly speaking, commences, when, that is to say, the\ncontradiction has fully asserted itself, which was already implied in\nthe fully defined situation. Inasmuch as, however, the action which is\nbased on this collision disturbs the unity of that which is opposed\nto it, it calls into being by its antagonism the opposing force of\nthat which it confronts, and consequently the _action_ is immediately\nassociated with the _reaction._ With this analysis of the forces\nrendered necessary by dramatic action, we have at length arrived at\nthe notion of the Ideal as a fully defined process. For we are here\npresented with two distinct spheres of interest, both of which have\nbeen rent, as it were, from the harmony they originally possessed, and\nconfront each other in conflict. Such, by the contradiction which is\ninvolved in them, make a _resolution_ of the discord necessary. This\nmovement, regarded as a homogeneous whole, belongs no more to the\nprovince of the mere situation and its conflicts; we are carried now\ninto that portion of our inquiry to which we have already given the\nname of the genuine action.\n\n\n3. THE ACTION\n\nIn the development of the subject under consideration, the _action_\nimmediately follows after the universal _world-condition_ and the\nparticular _situation._ In considering the action in its external\nrelation to that portion of our inquiry we have just concluded it will\nbe well to bear in mind the result we arrived at, that it presupposes\ncircumstances which necessitate collisions, action, and reaction. It\nis impossible to determine at what point in the circumstances thus\npresupposed the action will _begin._ For that which in one aspect will\nappear as commencement will very possibly present itself in another as\nthe result of earlier developments, and to that extent will postpone\nthe real starting-point. And in like manner this, too, we may regard\nas a fact resulting from former collisions. To take an example; in\nthe house of Agamemnon Iphigenia in Tauris expiates the guilt and\nmisfortune of her family. The commencement here of this deliverance on\nthe part of Iphigenia is the fact that Diana carries her to Tauris.\nThis circumstance is, however, merely the result of earlier stages of\nthe story, such as the sacrifice in Aulis, which is again conditioned\nby the injury done to Menelaus in the rape of Helen by Paris, and so\non, ever backward, until we come to the famous egg of Leda. In the same\nway the events which are the subject-matter of the Iphigenia in Tauris\npresuppose the murder of Agamemnon, and all the crimes associated\nwith the house of Tantalus. An analysis of much the same character\nmight be applied to the Theban circle of mythos. If an action is to\nbe represented with all the facts that condition it, poetry is the\nonly real art that can attempt this. Such a complete exposition of\nhistorical fact has already become, as a certain proverb reminds us,\nrather a wearisome business; it is, in fact, more within the province\nof simple prose, and, in contrast with such completeness, poetry will\nrather consider its true function to be that of taking its audience at\nonce into the heart of the matter. There is a further important reason\nwhy it should not be to the interest of art to make its commencement\nfrom that point where we find the action under consideration is in the\nfirst instance externally conditioned, and it is this: such a point\nof departure is, after all, only related to the process regarded\nas natural or historical fact[323]. The association of the action\nwith this commencement merely concerns the empirical unity of its\nappearance; it may, however, in itself be of no significance at all\nto the real content of the action. This external unity of historical\nsequence remains just as it was, however it may chance that one\nparticular person is affected by the involved threads of a varying\nseries of fact. No doubt the entirety of the facts of life, its actions\nand fatalities, tends to make the individual what he is; but for all\nthat his true nature, the real core of his thoughts and capacities, is\nmanifested in _one_ great situation and action independently of them.\nIt is the progress of these which reveals to us really what a character\nis made of, a character which previously to their occurrence had been\nknown merely in a nominal way, that is the name of one more fact among\nthe external facts of experience.\n\nWe must therefore not look for the commencement of the action in that\n_empirical_ source of it; we must rather centre the attention upon\nthose circumstances which have taken a hold upon the particular nature\nwith which we are dealing, and created or satisfied its needs; we\nmust, in fact, reveal the particular collision in whose conflict and\nresolution the action in question consists. Homer, for example, in the\n\"Iliad,\" makes a start at once with the particular fact on which his\nentire epic is founded, that is to say, with the wrath of Achilles.\nHe tells us nothing of earlier history of the life of Achilles, but\nemphasizes at once the critical collision, and, moreover, does it in a\nway which unfolds a background of the greatest interest to his picture.\n\nThe representation, then, of the action as a process complete in\nitself, in which action, reaction, and resolution are constituent\nelements, is, above all, the function of the poetic art; all the other\narts can at most only seize upon and secure in their presentation\none moment of this process. It is quite true that if we direct our\nattention to that aspect of the medium they employ which is richest,\nthey may appear to have an advantage over poetry; in painting\nespecially[324] we find a control asserted not merely over the entire\nexternal form, but also over the expression of external demeanour and\nthe play of such relatively to other objects grouped around it. Such a\nmeans of expression, however, cannot compare as an interpreter of truth\nwith human speech. The action itself is the clearest means of unfolding\nto us individual character, whether we view it relatively to the entire\nemotional life[325] or the objects of mind. All that a man is at the\nvery root of his nature is first revealed to us through his acts; and\naction, for the reason that it is an expression of spirit, finds its\nultimate expression as such most clearly and concisely in speech alone.\nWhen we speak in general terms of human action we are apt to figure to\nourselves an incalculable variety of mode. For Art, however, the sphere\nof action suitable to artistic representation is, generally speaking,\nlimited. Her province is wholly restricted to the type of action which\nis conformable to the necessary configuration of the Idea.\n\nThere are three points of essential importance necessary to grasp in\nconnection with such action as is capable of artistic representation,\nand which we may emphasize as follows. The situation and the resulting\nconflict is that which generally stimulates it; the active movement,\nhowever, taken by itself, the element of difference, that is to say,\nof the Ideal in its activity, is made apparent first by virtue of the\nreaction. This movement may be resolved into the following component\nfeatures:\n\n_First_, we have the _universal_[326] _forces_, which constitute the\nessential content and object, for the sake of which the action takes\nplace.\n\n_Secondly_, we have the _realization_[327] of these forces in the\n_individuals_ who act.\n\n_Thirdly_, the two aspects above mentioned have to unite themselves in\nthat which, in default of any better generic term, we will here call\n_character._\n\n_(a) The Universal Forces of Action_\n\n(_a_) However much we have finally arrived in our consideration of\nthe action at a point where the definition and differentiation of the\nIdeal is of the first importance, nevertheless the very notion of art\nrenders it necessary that in the sphere of true beauty, be the aspect\nof it whatsoever it may, it must still have upon it the stamp of the\nIdeal; it cannot, that is to say, maintain itself without rationality\nand the justification it implies. Interests of an ideal character must\ninevitably be in conflict with another, so that might is opposed to\nmight. These interests are, in fact, the eternal and universal forces\nof spiritual existence, the essential cravings of the human heart,\nthe spontaneous and inevitable objects of human action, justifiable\nand rational in virtue of their own character, and consequently the\nvery universal powers to which we have referred. They are indeed not\nthe absolute Divine itself, but rather the sons of the one absolute\nIdea[328], and consequently dominant and valid. They are the children\nof the one universal truth, albeit only determinate, particular\nmoments of the same. Through their very distinction, it is true, they\ncan fall into contradiction or disunion, yet despite all the element\nof difference contained, they must possess the original essentiality\nwithin them in order to appear as the determinate Ideal. Such are the\nsupreme motive forces of art. They are the eternal[329] religious and\nethical modes of relationship, status, personal character[330], and in\nthe world of romance, before everything else, honour and love. In the\nparticular grade of their significance these powers differ, but all are\nessentially the product of reason. At the same time it is these powers\nin the human heart and mind, which man, by virtue of his humanity,\nis bound to recognize, to give free play to, and to actualize. At\nthe same time they ought not directly to appear as rights in positive\nlegislation. For, to take one reason, the form of positive legislation,\nas we have seen, is already in partial conflict with the notion and\ncontent of the Ideal; furthermore, it is quite possible that the\ncontent of positive rights may contribute to that which is essentially\nunjust, albeit entirely clothed in the attributes of law. The relations\nwe have above referred to, however, are not merely the supreme stable\nembodiment of the external world[331], but the essentially substantive\npowers, which for the very reason that they contain in themselves the\nactual content of human existence, continue to be the stimulating\nsource of its activity, and ultimately all that ever carried it forward\nto perfection.\n\nOf this kind are the interests and objects which contend against each\nother in the \"Antigone\" of Sophocles. Creon, the king, as ruler of the\nstate, by a decree couched in the severest terms, forbade the right\nof burial to the son of \u0152dipus, who had proved himself an enemy of\nhis country by bringing an army against Thebes. This proclamation was\nso far justifiable that it expressed care for the weal of the entire\ncity. Antigone, however, is animated by an ethical principle of equal\nauthority, in other words by her love for her brother, whom she finds\nit impossible to leave unburied, the prey of carrion birds. To leave\nsuch a duty unfulfilled would be in direct opposition to the sacred\ninstincts of her personal relationship. She consequently violates the\ndecree of Creon.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Collisions of the type with which we are now dealing may be\nintroduced in every possible way; the necessity of the reaction,\nhowever, must not be occasioned by means of anything out of place or\nat cross purposes[332] with the main action, but through that which is\nin itself reasonable and justifiable. For example, in the well-known\nGerman poem of Hartmann von der Aue, \"The Poor Henry,\" the collision\nis repulsive. The hero in this poem is visited by a fatality, that is\nto say, an incurable disease. He turns for assistance to the monks of\nSalermo. They state as the condition of his cure that a human being\nmust willingly surrender his or her life, on the ground that the\nnecessary salve can alone be forthcoming from a human heart. A poor\nmaiden who is in love with the knight offers freely her own life and\naccompanies him into Italy. This is pure barbarism, and the silent\nlove and pathetic devotion of the maiden are unable, consequently,\nto produce their full effect. It is true that we find the injustice\nof human sacrifice presented us by the ancients as the ground of the\ncollision. The famous example is that of the story of Iphigenia, who is\nfirst offered as such a sacrifice, and afterwards is on the point of\noffering up her brother. But, in the first place, it is to be observed\nthat in these examples the conflict is in close connection with other\nrelations which are in themselves justifiable; secondly, the artistic\nprinciple is really satisfied, as we have already observed, by the fact\nthat both Iphigenia and Orestes are finally delivered, and the power of\na collision which is opposed to our notion of right is thus destroyed.\nAnd, indeed, this is also the case in the above mentioned poem of\nHartmann, in so far as we may acknowledge the _d\u00e9nouement_ offered us\nin which, on Henry refusing to accept the sacrifice, God releases him\nfrom his malady, and the maiden is rewarded for her true love[333].\n\nIn apparent association with the positive powers we have enumerated\nmust be added others set over against them, that is to say, the forces\nof that which is negative and bad, evil in short. That which is purely\nnegative, however, ought not to be taken in the ideal representation of\nan action as the essential ground-motive for the necessary reaction.\nThe reality of the purely negative case, it is true, corresponds to the\nnegative and its appropriate character, but, if the implied[334] notion\nand object is already in itself rendered nugatory, it is even less\npossible that the ugliness which is exposed in the inward life should\nmanifest any genuine beauty upon its external reality. The sophistry of\npassion can, indeed, by means of the capacity, strength, and energy of\na character, make the attempt to graft positive characteristics upon\nthe negative, but we only obtain thereby the vision of a whitewashed\ngrave. For that which is purely negative is generally flat and stale\nand leaves us consequently either void or drives us back, whether\nit be used as the motive force of an action or merely as a means to\npromote a reaction in another. The horrible, unfortunate, the harshness\nof dominion, and the obduracy of superior power may form part of the\ncontent and burden of the imagination when such characteristics are\nexalted and carried by the abundant greatness of a particular character\nor object. Evil, however, taken simply for what it is, envy, cowardice,\nand meanness, is merely repulsive. The devil, if we take him for what\nhe really ought to be, is consequently a bad subject, or rather a\nfigure for which Art has no uses at all. He is just a falsehood and\nnothing more, and consequently an extremely prosaic personality. In\nthe same way it is perfectly true that the Furies of hate and many\nother allegorical figures of later times are potencies of a kind,\nbut they are without affirmative subsistency and holdfastness[335],\nunfavourable to ideal representation, although in this respect a wide\nmargin of difference is permissible in the several arts respectively,\nand in the particular mode in which they may immediately visualize such\nobjects. Evil is, to express it in most general terms, essentially\ncold and devoid of content, because as such it is merely the source of\nnegation, discord, and misfortune. All art, however, which is true to\nits essential notion, should reflect on us the vision of a harmony.\nMeanness, above all, is despicable, for it is a quality which arises\nfrom the envy and hatred of all that is noble, and does not shrink\nfrom distorting even a power that is essentially based upon the good\ninto a means conformable to its own perverse and shameless passion.\nThe great poets and artists of the classical world have in consequence\nnever presented us with the vision of absolute evil and depravity.\nShakespeare, on the contrary, in his tragedy of \"King Lear,\" unfolds\nbefore us the spectacle of wickedness in all its horrors. The old\nLear divides his kingdom among his daughters, and, while doing so, is\nfoolish enough to believe in their false and flattering speeches, and\nto misinterpret the silent and faithful Cordelia. There is already\nfolly and madness in this, and it is followed by the most outrageous\ningratitude and worthlessness of the elder daughters and their husbands\nto the point of absolute craze. As an antithesis of this the heroes\nof the French school of tragedy are stretched and puffed out with\nevery sort of grandiose and sublime motive, and make a great parade of\ntheir honour and nobility, and yet despite of it all destroy the very\nmeaning of such motives by the mere fact of what they really are and\naccomplish. But it is in modern times more especially that we find this\nunstable dissolution of everything spiritual[336], which forces its way\nthrough every dissonance, however repulsive, become quite _\u00e0 la mode_;\nmoreover, it has even given us what we may describe as the humour of\nthe abominable thing, a kind of burlesque simulation of irony, an\natmosphere in which a Theodor Hoffmann, for example, has found himself\nso much at home.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We may conclude, then, that it is the essentially positive\nand substantive powers in the spiritual world which supply the real\ncontent of the ideal action. These sources of energy, however, in their\nartistic embodiment, must not appear in their inherent universality,\nalbeit within the reality of the action they are essential phases of\nthe Idea. Rather they must receive the form of independent individuals.\nIf this were not so they would remain as merely the universals of\nthought or abstract conceptions which do not properly fall within the\nprovince of art. Though in their origin they should be held as intact\nas it is possible to hold them from mere caprices of the fancy, it\nis equally necessary that in their development they should acquire\ndeterminacy no less than self-consistency[337], and in this way\nappear as essentially particularized. Such definition as they possess\nought not to be carried to the point of the particularity of external\nobjects, nor should their concentration be carried to that of the\nsubjective self-consciousness[338]. Otherwise the individuality of\nthose universal powers is necessarily involved in all the developments\nof finite existence. In this respect we may say, then, that the\ndeterminacy of their individuality is not to be taken too seriously.\nThe gods of the Greek Pantheon are the most conspicuous example of this\nmanifestation and sway of the universal forces we have just discussed\nin their self-subsistent form. However they may be brought before\nus, their blessedness and cheerfulness remains unaffected. Regarded\nseparately as particular gods no doubt they engage in conflict, but\nin all their battles we shall ultimately find they are not really\nserious in the sense that they concentrate themselves on any definite\nobject with the entire consequential energy of their character and\npassion, fully prepared to stake their existence upon the result. They\nengage in this affair or that wherever it may take place, identify\nparticular interests in concrete examples with their own; they are,\nhowever, equally ready to leave the matter at any point and wing their\nway back happily to Olympus. Such is the view we get of the gods when\nthey engage in warfare on the pages of Homer. The determinacy of their\ncharacterization is capable of conflict, but they remain for all\nthat the purely universal determinations which at bottom they are.\nA battle begins to rage; heroes advance singly one against another;\nthen we lose sight of individuals altogether in the universal storm\nand crush; it is no longer the specific qualities of individuals\nwhich are now set in relief against each other--it is the universal\nrush of the fight, the daemon of war loosed and roaring, and now it\nis that the universal powers, the gods themselves, step forth on the\nscene of battle. From such a temporary display of the contrasts of\ntheir characterization they ever withdraw themselves into the solitude\nof their self-subsistency and repose. For though the individuality\nof their form carries them perforce into the region of time and\ncontingency, nevertheless inasmuch as the universal they claim as gods\nis that which ultimately must prevail, the individual characteristic\nshrinks away into the determination of external form only; they are\nunable in their personality to penetrate the true arcana of conscious\nspirit[339].\n\nTheir physical definition is, in fact, either more or less only the\naccommodating form of their divinity. But this self-subsistency and\ncareless repose is precisely that which gives to them their plastic\nindividuality, and relieves them of any anxiety and constraint[340] in\nrelation to earthly objects and events[341]. For this reason we find\nin the gods of Homer no final result when actively occupied with the\nconcrete facts of human life, although such activity is displayed for\nus in many and diverse directions. The material and interest of human\nevents which happen in time is that which gives them something to do\nand nothing more. And in like manner we may remark other peculiar\ncharacteristics attached to the Greek gods, which we can only regard as\nessentially unrelated to the general notion of divinity which each god\nrespectively connotes. Mercury is, for example, the slayer of Argus;\nApollo that of the hydra; of the love affairs of Zeus we have countless\ntales, and, among other things, he hangs his wife on an anvil. These\nand many other stories like them are merely supplementary additions,\nwhich attach to the gods in their aspect of natural forces by virtue\nof symbol and allegory, the origin of which we propose to discuss\nmore fully later on. In modern art we shall, it is true, find certain\nindications which point to a conception of definite and at the same\ntime universal powers. These are, however, for the most part simply\ncold and frost-like allegories of hate, envy, hope, love, faithfulness,\nthat is to say, generally of virtues and vices in the actual truth of\nwhich we can retain no belief. For with us moderns it is the concrete\nsubjectivity alone, for which we, in the representations of art, feel\nthat profounder interest, wherein abstractions such as these do not\nappear in their isolation, but are made to appear merely as phases or\naspects of human character, whether we regard it in its particularity\nor as a concrete whole. In much the same way the angels possess no\nessential universality and self-subsistency such as characterize Mars,\nVenus, and Apollo, or even Oceanus and Helios. They are, it is true,\nobjects of imaginative conception, but their specific character is that\nof vassals of the one Divine and essential substance, which is not in\nthis case broken up into self-subsistent individualities, as we find\nit in the Greek Pantheon. For this reason we have here no imaginative\nvision of many objective powers dwelling in a state of tranquillity,\nwhich may be represented as essentially Divine personalities. We find,\non the contrary, the essential content of such either as subsisting\nin the Godhead, or realized in a mode which is both particular and\nsubjective in wholly human characters and actions. Nevertheless\nit was precisely in the conception[342] of self-subsistency and\nindividualization that the ideal representation of the gods originated.\n\n_(b) The Individuals in the Action_\n\nIn the cases we have just discussed of the ideal gods it is not a\ndifficult matter for art to secure the ideality she requires. But in\napproaching the concrete action, ideal representation is confronted\nwith a real difficulty. For though it is here that the gods and, in\ngeneral terms, the universal powers may be identified with a principle\nwhich stimulates and compels activity, we are not therefore on the\nplane of reality entitled to find in them the source of genuine\nindividual action. Action is rather essentially the manifestation of\nhuman life. Consequently there are in this connection two distinct\naspects of the problem to be considered. On the one hand we have these\nuniversal forces in their self-subsistent repose and for that reason\nmore abstract substantiality; on the other there is the individuality\nof men, in which we must seek the final spring and determinating\nimpulse to action no less than its actual accomplishment. It is, of\ncourse, only the simple truth that these eternally dominant powers\nare immanent in the identical nature of mankind, constituting, in\nfact, the substantive core of its character; but in so far as they are\ncomprehended in their Divine nature themselves as individuals[343],\nand thereby in an exclusive way, their relation to the subject of human\nconsciousness must remain an external one. And this fact enables us to\nsee the essential difficulty we noticed above. There is, in truth, a\ncontradiction immediately involved in this relation between the gods\nand men. It is quite true that the content of the gods is that which\nbelongs to humanity, and announces itself as his passion, resolve,\nand will. It is, however, equally true that the gods must not only be\nassumed to be and comprehended as independent from man individually\nconsidered in their actual existence, but, furthermore, as the forces\nat the root of all his activity and determination. And this, too, in\nsuch a way that we are forced to consider the same determinations at\none time as personified in the self-subsistent and Divine personality,\nand at another that which appears most essentially to belong to the\nhuman heart. And it is for this reason that the free self-subsistency\nof the gods no less than the freedom of human individuals in their\nactivity is seriously compromised if, to the detriment of human\nindependence, which we have already stated to be of most essential\nimportance to the Ideal of Art, we ascribe an exclusive power of\ncommand to the gods. And we may observe this is precisely the same\nkind of difficulty which confronts us in the form of the religious\nconceptions of Christianity. It is stated in terms that the spirit of\nGod leads up to God. Taken strictly such a phrase can only imply that\nthe inward life of man is regarded as a purely passive ground, upon\nwhich the spirit of God labours. In such a conception the human will\ndisappears as a free will, and at the same time the Divine purpose\nwhich motives the \"in working\" above mentioned can only appear to\nman as a kind of Fate, under which he fails to come by his own true\npersonality[344].\n\n(_\u03b1_) If, however, this question of mutual relation[345] is so\nunderstood that man in his action is conceived as standing in a purely\nexternal opposition to God, here posited as eternal substance, the\nrelation of both is one of pure matter of fact[346]. God gives a\ncommand, and man is obliged to hearken. Even great poets have found\nthemselves unable to dispense with this conception of external\nopposition between gods and men. In the \"Philoctetes\" of Sophocles,\nfor example, we find that Philoctetes, after he has confounded the\ndeceit of Odysseus, persists in his determination not to return to the\nGrecian camp until Heracles appears at length as _Deus ex machina_,\nand orders him to yield to the entreaty of Neoptolimus. The content of\nthis apparition is, no doubt, sufficiently motived, and answers to our\nown expectation; the catastrophe itself, however, is for all that not\nrightly homogeneous, but rather outside the action; and in his noblest\ntragedies Sophocles makes no such use of this kind of representation,\naccording to which, if we but carry it one step further, the gods\nare reduced to lifeless machines, and individual men simply to the\ninstruments of a foreign caprice. In a similar way we constantly in\nepic poetry meet with the active intervention of the gods represented\nin a mode which is external to human freedom. Hermes, for example,\nconducts Priam to Achilles; Apollo gives Patroclus the blow between the\nshoulders which ends his life. We also frequently find mythological\ntraits treated in such a way that they appear as wholly external to the\nactual lives of the individuals thus affected. Achilles, for example,\nis dipped by his mother in the Styx and thereby rendered invulnerable\nand invincible to the one point of his heels. If we reflect on this\nrationally it is obvious that all real bravery disappears, and all\nthat is heroic in the character of Achilles is converted from a real\ntrait of his essential manhood to a purely physical advantage. Such a\nmode of representation is, however, far more permissible to the epic\nthan it is to the dramatic type of poetry, for the good reason that\nin the epic that aspect of spiritual life which is directly concerned\nwith the intention implied in the execution of objects falls into the\nbackground and a larger field is, in general, offered for the play of\nexternal characteristics. Such a criticism of the prosaic understanding\nas the one above, which charges a poet with the absurdity that his\nheroes are no heroes at all, should only be advanced with the greatest\ncaution, for it is partly in such traits as will appear shortly, that\nthe poetical relation between gods and men is preserved. It is another\nmatter, and we have nothing left us but prose, when in addition the\npowers, which are posited as substantive individuals, are mere empty\nshadows, the creations of the caprice of fancy and the arbitrariness of\na false originality. They are then for the most part only the adjuncts\nof superstition or imbecility.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The truly poetic relation of ideality consists, then, in the\nidentity of gods and men; and this must assert itself even though\nthe universal powers are presented as independent and free from\nthe particularity of human beings and passions. In other words,\nall that we attribute to the gods must at the same time establish\nitself as that which is essentially cognate with the spiritual life\nof particular men in this sense, that while the dominating powers\nappear as essentially personified, yet at the same time all that is\nthus posited in an external relation to man is none the less clearly\nthat which is immanent in his own spirit and character. The true\nfunction of the artist is, therefore, to introduce a mediating link\nbetween the difference involved in these two aspects, to bind them, in\nshort, by a finely conceived thread of relation which, while clearly\nemphasizing their springs in the spiritual life of man, shall make\nno less visible the universal and essential element which is therein\nimplied and present such to the imagination in individual form. The\nemotional life of man must reveal itself in the gods, who, in fact,\nare the self-subsistent and universal embodiments of that which is\nactive and dominant in his own spiritual experience. Then alone are the\ngods at the same time gods in cognate relation with his own heart and\nemotions. When, for example, we are told by the ancients that Venus or\nAmor has put a constraint upon the heart, no doubt in the first place\nthese divinities are apprehended as external powers; but human love is\nequally a stimulus and a passion, which is implanted in the heart and\nis part of that it independently contains.\n\nIn much the same sense is the frequent reference to the Eumenides. We\nhave to picture in the first instance no doubt these avenging maidens\nas Furies, who pursue the transgressor in an external form. But this\npursuit is but another aspect of the Fury which drives through the soul\nof the perpetrator of crime; and Sophocles in the \u0152dipus Colonus (I.\n1434) actually refers to them in this sense of inward spiritual forces,\nas the Eumenides of \u0152dipus himself, that is to say, who signify the\nfather's curse as the result of the stress of emotion caused by the\nconduct of his sons. We have, then, and equally have not reason on our\nside whether we identify the gods with powers external to man, or find\nin them that which belongs exclusively to his spiritual life. They are\nin fact both. In Homer, for example, the activity of gods and men is a\nconstantly involved skein[347]. The gods appear to accomplish what is\nforeign to human activity, and yet for all that execute only that which\nis in vital co-ordination with his own emotional life. In the \"Iliad,\"\nfor example, when Achilles, in the stress of controversy, is about to\nraise his sword against Agamemnon, Athene steps forth behind him and\ntakes hold of his head of flaxen hair, visible only to himself. Hero,\nwho is equally anxious over Achilles and Agamemnon, sends for them from\nOlympus, and their admission there appears to be wholly independent\nof the desire of Achilles. On the other hand we have no difficulty in\nseeing that the sudden appearance of Athene, the wisdom which puts\nconstraint upon the hero's wrath, is simply a reflection of internal\nconflict, that the entire description but states in imaginative form\nwhat was experienced in the heart of our hero. In fact Homer himself\npoints this out a few verses previously (\"Iliad,\" I, v, 190), when he\nrelates about the debate that took place in his heart in the following\nterms:\n\n     \u1f22 \u1f45\u03b3\u03b5 \u03c6\u03ac\u03c3\u03b3\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u1f40\u03be\u1f7a \u1f10\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03c3\u03ac\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u1f70 \u03bc\u03b7\u03c1\u03bf\u1fe6\n     \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b5\u03bd, \u1f43 \u03b4\u1fbd \u1f08\u03c4\u03c1\u03ad\u03b9\u03b4\u03b7\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd\u03b1\u03c1\u03af\u03be\u03bf\u03b9,\n     \u1f21\u1f72 \u03c7\u03cc\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03ac\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03cd\u03c3\u03b5\u03af\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1f40\u03bd.[348]\n\nThis inward breaking up of anger into a divided self, this constraint,\nfor it is in opposition to the anger, and Achilles appears at first\nto be wholly filled with wrath, the epic poet has a perfect right\nto represent at the same time as an external event. In a similar\ncase in the \"Odyssey\" we find Minerva acting the part of escort for\nTelemachus. This attendance is rather more difficult to grasp as a\npersonal experience of the emotional life of Telemachus, although we\ncan readily fix on certain points of contact between the external\nimage and the emotion experienced. And this it is we may generally\nsay which constitutes the cheerful buoyancy of the Homeric gods, and\nthe irony implied in the honour paid to them. Their self-consistency\nand seriousness are characteristics which tend to dissolve like a\ncloud, precisely to the extent that they unfold themselves as the very\npowers which are native to man's emotional life, and thereby, in their\nmanifestation, leave humanity alone with its own possessions.\n\nHowever, it is not necessary to look so far abroad for a complete\nexample of the conversion of a purely mechanical conception of Divine\nactivity into the atmosphere of the subjective consciousness, the\nsphere, that is, of freedom and ethical beauty. In his Iphigenia in\nTauris Goethe has in this connection carried the process through with\na beauty that we cannot sufficiently admire. In the drama of Euripides\nOrestes in complicity with Iphigenia carries off the statue of Diana.\nThis is simply an act of stealing. Then Thoas comes on the scene, and\norders their pursuit, and the recovery of the bust of the goddess.\nFinally, in very prosaic fashion, Athene appears and orders Thoas\nto stay his hand on the ground that she has independently commended\nOrestes to the charge of Poseidon, and he, in deference to her wishes,\nhas already carried Orestes far over seas. Thoas submits to her advice\nand replies to it in the following terms (v, 1442, 43): \"Lady Athene,\nwhoever, on hearing the words of the gods, does not obey them is but\na fool. For how could it be right and fit to contend with the mighty\ngods.\"\n\nIn this relation we can only see the bare external command of Athene\non the one side, and an equally futile submission of Thoas on the\nother. In Goethe's treatment of the subject, on the contrary, Iphigenia\nbecomes herself exalted to the rank of a goddess, in reliance upon the\ntruth she feels within herself, the truth of a human heart. In this\nsense she turns to Thoas and exclaims:\n\n     Is it then man alone who has the right\n     To accomplish things none ever heard before!\n     Shall he alone impress upon the strength\n     Of hearts heroic the impossible?\n\nThat which in the drama of Euripides the command of Athene effects, the\nchange in the attitude of Thoas, Goethe's Iphigenia endeavours to bring\nabout, and in fact does bring about, through the depth of the feelings\nand ideas with which she confronts him.\n\n                   With motions strange\n     An enterprise audacious soars within me;\n     A vast reproach and ills yet graver still\n     Will break on me if the event miscarry;\n     But, see, I place it on your knees! Be true,\n     Be only true and worthy of your fame,\n     So your assistance shall declare it truth,\n     Truth glorified through me.\n\nAnd to this reply of Thoas:\n\n                        What! you believe\n     The Scythian wild and the barbarian\n     Hear the wise voice of Truth and hearts humane\n     When Atreus of Greece still failed to hear.\n\nshe answers with the gentlest, purest trust:\n\n                        Nay, all thus hear\n     Beneath whatever sky their birth was laid;\n     All needs must hear for whom the springs of life\n     Flow without let and purely through the soul.\n\nThen it is she makes the final call upon her greatness of soul, and the\ntenderness of her faith at its highest point of effort; her entreaty\ntouches, then masters and wrings from him, in a way that must appeal\nto every heart, the permission to return to her own. This alone is\nnecessary. She has no need of the statue of the goddess; she can depart\non her journey without deceit or betrayal of trust. And it is with the\nfinest sense of beauty that Goethe refers here to the oracular word of\nthe god:\n\n     Bring but to Greece again the sister who\n     All loth at heart in holy temple bides\n     On shores of Tauris, and the curse is gone.\n\nThe very human reconciliation disclosed in these words is clearly\nthat the pure and holy Iphigenia, the sister, is in fact the divine\npersonification and the protectress of the house.\n\n     Noble and beautiful I wot in sooth\n     All that the goddess counselled seemed to me,\n\nexclaims Orestes to Thoas and Iphigenia:\n\n                Like to a holy picture\n     The fate unalterable which walled our town\n     By one mysterious word, one word Divine,\n     Is banished, now that city takes thee back,\n     Who art the true protectress of our home;\n     Reserve thyself in holy quietness,\n     A blessing to thy brother and thine own;\n     It seemed that all deliverance on Earth\n     Had passed away, and all comes back with thee.\n\nIn the spirit of these healing words of reconciliation Iphigenia has\nalready revealed herself to Orestes by virtue of the purity and ethical\nbeauty of her inner life. It is true that her discernment drives him\nhalf mad, who in the convulsion of his spirit has lost all faith in\npeace; but the pure love of the sister does not fail to heal him from\nevery pang with which he is tortured by the Furies of his soul:\n\n                   Within thine arms\n     The evil clawed me with its direst clutch\n     For the last time, and to the very marrow\n     I shuddered horribly: and then it vanished,\n     E'en as a serpent to its lair. Anew,\n     And all through thee, the day's breadth I enjoy.\n\nHere, as elsewhere throughout it, we can hardly emphasize sufficiently\nour admiration for the profound beauty of this poem.\n\nThe material which has the impress of Christianity upon it is more\nopen to criticism than that which was the subject-matter of antique\nart. In the sacred legends, and generally speaking where the religious\nconceptions of Christendom prevail, no doubt we may find the appearance\nof Christ, the Virgin Mary and other saints the subject of universal\nbelief; but along with them the imagination has clothed itself with\nfanciful aberrations in every direction, so that witches, ghosts, and\nevery sort of spectral apparition are yet more conspicuous objects. In\nthe face of such conceptions, so far at least as they appear foreign\npowers to our human nature, and man submits himself unreservedly to\nthe charm, seduction, and influence of their illusions, artistic\nrepresentation is wholly given up to every kind of folly and caprice of\nmere contingency. It is of unique importance that in the treatment of\nsuch material the artist take care that the freedom and independence\nof judgment are in no way impaired. Shakespeare has shown us how to\ndo this in most noble fashion. The witches in Macbeth, for example,\nappear as external powers, who foretell for Macbeth his future destiny.\nWhat they _do_ foretell, however, is precisely that which is his own\nmost secret wish, which is reflected back on him and declared in this,\nmerely in appearance, external form[349]. With a still closer regard to\nbeauty, yet profounder insight, is the ghost in Hamlet treated as the\npurely objective embodiment of Hamlet's own intuitions. We find Hamlet\nin the first instance overpowered with a vague feeling that something\nhorrible has taken place. His father's ghost then appears and gives\ndefinite form to these awful premonitions. We naturally expect that\nHamlet, after receiving the facts set forth in his father's warning,\nwill at once proceed with energy and bring the murderer to book, a\nrevenge which appears to have ample excuse. But he delays and delays.\nCritics have made this inactivity a matter of reproach to Shakespeare,\nblamed him, in fact, as though for this reason the play to some\nextent never gets properly off. But we must remember Hamlet is not a\nstrongly practical nature, rather a finely strung one, with emotions\nheld in persistent reserve; a nature which finds it difficult to tear\nitself from its internal harmony; melancholy too, prone to subtleties,\nhypochondriacal, with emotions deeply rooted. For this reason it is\nobvious that he is _prima facie_ indisposed to prompt action. And this\nis fundamentally Goethe's conception of him when he tells us that what\nShakespeare sought to represent \"was the imposition of some supreme\naction on a soul whose growth was unadapted to its execution.\" He\nin fact interprets the entire drama relatively to this conception\nof Hamlet. \"We have here,\" he maintains, \"an oak tree planted in an\nexquisite vase, which ought really only to contain and shelter the\nfair flowers; the roots spread, the vase is shattered.\" But it should\nbe noticed that Shakespeare, when referring to the apparition of the\nghost, contributes a far profounder trait of character in explanation\nof this debated point. Hamlet delays, because he does not right off\nwholly believe in the ghost.\n\n             The spirit that I have seen\n     May be a devil: and the devil hath power\n     To assume a pleasing shape; yea and perhaps,\n     Out of my weakness and my melancholy,\n     As he is very potent with such spirits,\n     Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds\n     More relative than this: the play's the thing,\n     Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.\n\nIn this passage it is obvious that the apparition as such does\nnot leave Hamlet merely devoid of all stability[350], but that he\nentertains a reasonable doubt, and is determined to make his conviction\na certainty by his own experiments before he proceeds to act upon it.\n\n(_\u03b3_) As a summary description of these universal powers, which appear\nnot merely in their external independence, but are the vital and\nmoving forces in the human heart and all that is implied in its most\nintimate life, we may borrow an expression in use among the ancients,\nthat is to say Pathos (_\u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2._) To translate this word adequately is\nnot easy. Passion almost always implies as its concomitant an element\nof meanness or baseness. We contend in ordinary parlance that a man\nshould not surrender himself to his passions. It must therefore be\nunderstood that we use the expression pathos in a nobler and more\nuniversal sense than this without the slightest implication of anything\nblameworthy or egotistic. The devoted love of the sister Antigone is\nan excellent example of a pathos in the full significance of the Greek\nuse of the term. Pathos in this sense is a power of the emotional life\nwhich completely justifies itself, an essential part of the content\nof rationality and the free will. Orestes, for example, kills his\nmother not so much on account of any force of his emotional life which\nwe strictly can call passion; rather it is a pathos in itself fully\nconsidered upon and essentially sane which carries him on to the awful\ndeed. Thus understood we may add that it is impossible to say that the\ngods possess pathos. They are merely the universal content of that\nwhich is the stimulating energy in the resolves and actions of human\nindividuality. The gods as such continue in their repose and freedom\nfrom passion, and however much they may quarrel or contend among\nthemselves, there is nothing really serious in it all, or their strife\npossessed merely a symbolical significance in the view we may take of\nit as a universal war of the gods. We must therefore strictly limit\npathos to the actions of mankind, and conceive thereunder the essential\nor rational content, which is present in the human consciousness\nidentical with itself and throughout suffuses the emotional life.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) We may say, then, that pathos constitutes the true mediating\nlink[351], the veritable domain of art. The representation of it is the\nmost truly effective part of a work of art, as it is its influence upon\nthose who look at it. Pathos sets a string in motion, which vibrates\nthrough every human heart. Every one must know the type of worth and\nreason, which underlies the content of a genuine example of pathos,\nmust recognize it at once when he sees it. And the cause of this is\nthat pathos moves us because it is that which is essentially the vital\nforce of our human existence. And it equally follows that that which\nis wholly external, the natural environment and particular scene, in\nits active support of the effect of pathos, need only be treated quite\nsubordinately. Nature must in consequence be drawn upon as a fact\nessentially symbolical and suffer the pathos to re-echo from her walls,\nwhich is the most real subject-matter of artistic representation.\nLandscape is, for example, a type or genre of painting of less\nimportance than historical painting; but even there we find that the\nschool of landscape most independent should not be without a general\nharmonic relation to human feeling, and, in fact, possesses a certain\ntype of pathos. In this sense we are told art generally ought to touch\nthe emotions. Before accepting this principle, however, we ought first\nto inquire through what means this peculiar effect of art must be\nbrought about. \"To touch the emotions\" is in general the activity of\nsomething in union with feeling, and mankind, more particularly the\nmankind of to-day, are, or a more considerable portion of them are,\nonly too readily open to such experiments. The man who showers tears\non us, starts the seeds of tears, which grow up fast enough. In art,\nhowever, only that ought to move us which contains in itself the real\nimport of pathos.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) For such reasons we may affirm that neither in comedy nor\nin tragedy ought pathos to be that which is only folly or personal\nidiosyncracy. Shakespeare's Timon, for example, is on purely material\ngrounds a misanthrope; his friends have eaten him up, consumed his\nsubstance, and when he himself requires their gold desert him. He\nconsequently becomes a passionate enemy of mankind. The situation is\nboth conceivable and consistent with nature, but it contains no pathos\nthat can be justified on principle. Even to a more striking extent\nis the hate we find in \"The Misanthrope,\" that play of Schiller's\napprenticeship, purely a vagary of modern ideas. For in this latter\ncase the misanthrope is in addition a thoughtful, perspicacious, and\nentirely noble man, great-hearted towards his peasants, whom he has\nfreed from their villeinage, and devoted to his daughter, who is, apart\nfrom her beauty, in all respects worthy of his love. In much the same\nway, in that novel of August Lafontaine, Quintius Heimeran von Flaming\nis worried with the follies of mankind. It is, however, our most\nlatter-day poetry which, above all, loves to wind itself into every\nconceivable knot of fantastical falsehood[352], attempting thereby to\nsecure an effect through mere oddity, but failing to find the slightest\nresponse in any sane person for the reason that every vestige of what\nis really present in human life has vanished from such refinements of\nmental athletics.\n\nIn another direction we may remark that everything which depends\nsolely, that is to say, in so far as scientific apprehension is\nthe main requirement, upon instruction, testimony to the truth, and\ninsight of what is offered as such, is no fit subject-matter for\nthe representation of a genuine pathos. The facts of _scientific\nknowledge_ are a part of this material. And the reason of this is that\nscience demands a particular form of education, an effort towards\nand a knowledge of the specific forms of science and their relative\nimportance of exceptional variety and extension; an interest in this\ntype of study is by no means a universally moving influence in the\nhearts of men, but is limited and must ever remain limited to a narrow\ncircle of votaries. The treatment of purely _religious_ instruction\npresents similar difficulty, if we mean by that the development of\nthe same in its profoundest import. No doubt the universal content\nof religion, such as the belief in God and similar theses, is of the\ndeepest interest to anyone worthy of it. Art is, however, not directly\nconcerned either in the exposition of religious dogmas, nor, indeed,\nin any exceptional insight into their truth; it is consequently of\nimportance that she should be held aloof front such disquisitions. It\nis all the more necessary that we should through art entrust every type\nof pathos to the human heart, every motive of ethical significance,\nwhich are of practical and vital interest. The influence of religious\nideas is rather upon the subjective world of emotion, the heaven\nof the heart, the ever-repeated consolation and uplifting of the\nindividual life, than upon direct action in the strict sense. For that\nwhich is Divine in religion on its practical side is morality and the\npowers which are potent in the ethical life. These powers, however,\nin contrast with the heaven of religion in its purest form, are in\ndefinite relation to the world and that which is entirely human. Among\nthe ancients this worldly content was fundamentally included in their\nconception of Deity, and consequently their gods could be related\ndirectly to human action and its artistic presentation.\n\nFrom all this it will readily appear that the significant moments\nof volitional activity which present to us the pathos we have just\nendeavoured to define are numerically small and the range of them\nrestricted. In the opera especially it is inevitable that the sphere\nfrom which such may be selected is a narrow one; we consequently have\nfor ever dinned in our ears the plaints and delights, the misfortunes\nand happiness of love, fame, honour, friendship, maternal and marital\ndevotion.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Now a pathos of this kind requires for its display not merely\nthe power of exposition, but also that of perfected _elaboration_[353].\nAnd what is more, the soul which entrusts to its pathos the spiritual\nwealth it possesses must be one with real wealth to dispose of,\nand not one that can rest in a condition of purely intensive\nself-concentration. It must, in short, be ready to give an outward\nsemblance to its self-expression and rise to the finished perfection of\nthat. The distinction between this power of self-concentration and that\nof self-revelation is of great importance; and we shall find that in\nthis respect the types of individuality such as generically represent\ndifferent races offer essential points of contrast. Nations whose\nreflective consciousness has been highly trained are more eloquent\nin the expression of their passions than others who are not so. The\nancients, for example, were accustomed to unfold the pathos, which\nis the animating principle of human personality, in its profoundest\nsignificance, without running off into cold generalities or empty\ntattle. The French also in this respect are naturally gifted, and\ntheir eloquence in the expression of passion is not by any means\nalways merely a piling up of words, as we Germans, following the bent\nof our national reserve, to which the repeated expression of emotion\nappears to be a kind of wrong inflicted upon it, are only too ready\nto think it is. In fact, we have gone so far in this direction that\nwe could mention a distinct phase in our poetical history, when the\nyounger spirits, at any rate, sick to death of that which they dubbed\n\"the flush of French rhetorical water-drops,\" yearned to such an\nextent after the simplicity of Nature that their artistic energy could\nonly express itself for the most part in interjections. It is hardly\nnecessary to observe, however, that we shall arrive at no \"open sesame\"\nwith Ahs and Ohs, a damn here and there thrown in, or any other random\nnote of storm and bluster. The inspiration of mere interjections is a\nfeeble one, or rather is simply the way in which the still unrefined\nnature expresses itself. The spirit which is to reveal to us pathos\nmust be a spirit which is full to running over, which is able to spread\nitself abroad and give expression to its virtue.\n\nWe may add, too, that in this respect Goethe and Schiller present a\nmost marked contrast. Goethe is less pathetic than Schiller, makes\nuse of a mode of artistic expression which is more intensive; more\nespecially in his lyrics we are struck by this characteristic of\nself-reserve. His songs, and this is the true quality of the pure\nlyric, go naturally on their way, without entirely giving us all\nthat they contain. Schiller, on the contrary, is clearly anxious to\nunfold the pathos of his subject to its furthest limit, and with all\nthe clearness and force of expression he can muster. Claudius in\n\"Wands-becker Boten\"[354] has contrasted Voltaire and Shakespeare in\nmuch the same fashion, maintaining that the one _is_ what the other\nonly _appears_ to be. \"Master Arouet tells us: 'I weep'; Shakespeare\nreally weeps!\" To this we can only reply that it is precisely with such\ntelling and appearance that art is concerned and not with the mere\npositive fact. If Shakespeare merely wept while Voltaire made others\nthink he wept, so much the worse for the poet Shakespeare.\n\nTo conclude, then, it is necessary that pathos, in order to be in\nitself concrete, as it should be in ideal art, be presented in its\nartistic manifestation as the pathos issuing from a spiritual nature,\nrich and comprehensive. And this result carries us forward to that\nthird aspect of our consideration of \"the action\" already adverted to,\nthat is to say, an inquiry into what is implied by _character_ in this\nconnection.\n\n_(c) Character_\n\nWe will summarize the proceeding argument. Our point of departure was\nthe _universal_ and substantive powers which are the original stimulus\nto action. Such require as the medium of their active realization human\n_individuality_, in which they then appear as _affecting_ pathos[355].\nBut, furthermore, the universal inherent in these powers must in\nparticular individuals acquire the concentrated unity and concreteness\nof a _whole_, and a _single whole._ This totality is man apprehended in\nhis fulfilled spiritual content and the subjectivity therein comprised,\nin one word the entire self-contained human individuality which we\ndesignate as character. The gods are born into the pathos of men, and\npathos in its more concrete form of activity is human character.\n\nIn character, then, we find the real focus[356] of the ideal exposition\nof art, that is to say in so far as the embodiment unites in itself the\nseparate aspects of it already developed as consistent phases, in the\nconstruction of its own totality. For the Idea as _Ideal_, by which\nwe mean as clothed in a form within the grasp of sensuous imagination\nand perception, and in its activity as action and accomplishment, is,\nif we define it strictly, just this self-relation of the _subjective\nindividuality._ The individuality, however, which is truly _free_,\nand nothing short of this will satisfy the Ideal, has not merely to\ndeclare itself as universality, but at the same time, to assert its\nnature as concrete singularity, as the mediating bond which unites and\ntranspierces both sides thus related, which in their _self-related_\nactuality subsist as unity. And this is precisely what we understand\nby character, the ideal form of which consists in the wealth of energy\nwith which all the constituent aspects of the subjective life are\nwelded in one whole.\n\nWe will now inquire rather more closely into the nature of this\nconception of character viewed under three distinct aspects.\n\n_First_, as co-extensive[357] individuality, that is to say, with, our\nattention directed to the wealth of substance contained in it.\n\n_Secondly_, with direct reference to its particularity, the form in\nwhich it is bound to appear, albeit still a totality, as one that is\nmore _defined_ or specific.\n\n_Thirdly_, in our final apprehension of it as a unity which is fully\nidentified with its own determinate form, that is, which is throughout\nfused with the same by virtue of its own principle of subjective\nself-identity, and thereby attaches to the whole the significance of an\nessentially _assured_ character.\n\nWe will now develop and elucidate more fully what we conceive to be\nimplied in the above general propositions.\n\n(_\u03b1_) And first we would draw attention to the fact that this\npathos, though an essential feature in the development of completed\nindividuality, is not, in the specific form of its appearance, the\n_sole_ or exclusive interest of the individuality portrayed. It is,\nin fact, merely one aspect of the efficient[358] character, if one\nof paramount importance. To put it in rather a strong way, the human\nsoul does not merely carry within it _one_ god as the original of\nits pathos; on the contrary, the spiritual scope of humanity has\nwider borders, and we may affirm that many gods make their dwelling\nin one true man, or, rather, all the powers which are scattered\nthroughout the heaven of the gods are enclosed within that one breast.\nIt is co-extensive with the entire field of Olympus. In this sense\none of old has said: \"Out of thine own passions, O man, hast thou\ncreated the gods.\" And, as a matter of fact, in proportion as the\nintelligence of the Hellenic folk quickened, the number of their gods\nincreased; and, furthermore, the gods of their earliest days were less\nintelligent, that is to say, they were god-like figures deficient both\nin individuality and determinate character.\n\nIn this wealth of content, accordingly, it is necessary that the\ncharacter adequate to ideal art should display itself. And this is just\nthat which creates the interest we feel in a character, namely, that\na totality such as that we have above described emerges from it, and\nthe character, while reposing on its abundance, nevertheless persists\nin perfect equality with itself, as one secure and self-excluding\nsubject. If the character, however, be not conceived and depicted as\nthis rounded and subjective unity, is abstract in the sense that\nit is entirely the sport of one passion, such must then appear as\nself-destructive[359], or at least cracked, weak, and without real\nfibre. For the weakness and inertness of individuals is just this very\nthing, that the eternal forces of which we have spoken never assert\nthemselves in them as a real part of their most essential substance,\nas, to put it logically, predicates which adhere to them as the\nsubjects of such.\n\nIn Homer[360], for example, every hero is the living focus of a whole\ncongeries of qualities and traits. Achilles is the most youthful hero\nin the host, but his youthful exuberance is represented as quite\ncompatible with all other entirely human qualities, and Homer unfolds\nbefore us this variety through situations which offer the finest\ncontrast. He loves his mother, Thetis, he weeps for Briseis, when she\nis snatched from him, and his violated sense of honour drives him\ninto the conflict with Agamemnon, which is the original fount of all\nthe events that follow after it in the \"Iliad.\" Add to this he is the\ntruest friend of Patroclus and Antilochus; moreover, he is the most\nblooming, fiery youth, swift of foot, brave, yet full of reverence\nfor gray hairs; the faithful Phoenix and trusty servant are at his\nfeet, and at the funeral of Patroclus the hoary Nestor is treated\nwith the highest deference and honour. And, in contrast to all this,\nAchilles is represented as inflammable to a degree, effervescent,\nrevengeful, and full of the most brutal austerity when face to face\nwith the foe. He binds the slain Hector to his chariot, trails the\ncorpse in fell hunter's fashion three times round the walls of Troy;\nyet stays his anger when the old Priam comes to his tent, and, as he\nthinks within his heart of his own old father, reaches to the weeping\nking the hand which has done to death his son. Of Achilles we may\nwell exclaim: \"here is a man indeed, and human nature, ay, noble\nhuman too, in all the length and breadth of its riches, is unveiled\nbefore us in this one man!\" It is just the same with all the other\nHomeric characters\u2014-Odysseus, Diomedes, Ajax, Agamemnon, Hector,\nAndromache--every one of them is a whole, a world in itself, a complete\nand living member of humanity, something very different at least from\nyour allegorical abstract of some one particular trait. What frosty,\nfaded personalities, despite all their vigour and rigour, are the\nhorned Siegfried, Hagen of Troy, nay, even Volker, the musician, in\ncomparison.\n\nIt is this variety of characterization, and this alone, which can give\nto a character the interest of life. At the same time this fulness of\ndetail must really appear as included in the personality itself, that\nis, it must not strike us as the mere diversion, passing freak, or\nsuggestion of an excited fancy, such as we see in the case of children\nwho will take up everything in turn, and even make something out of it,\nyet, for all that, are without essential character. Character in this\nlatter sense will penetrate and make itself a home in the most diverse\nphases of the emotional life of man, will steep itself to overflowing\nwith that abundance, and, at the same time, not remain thus immersed,\nbut throughout all the congeries of interest, objects, qualities, all\nthe traits that distinguish or arrest it, maintain the form of its\nself-exclusive and alert subjectivity intact.\n\nFor the representation of such exhaustive types of character epic\npoetry is, above all others, adapted, dramatic and lyrical poetry are\nless so.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Art, however, will not be content to remain at the point which\nthe course of our inquiry has reached, namely, the notion of character\nas a mere congeries of traits. For the object we have before us now is\nthe Ideal in its specific determination, and singularity, or, rather,\nconcrete _individuality_, are both of them prominent and necessary\nfeatures. Action, more than anything else, in its conflict and reaction\nis impossible without some restriction and clear definition of form.\nFor this reason the heroes of dramatic poetry are for the most part of\nsimpler definition than those of epic poetry. And the way we get at a\nclear definition is through some pathos out of the ordinary which is\nso portrayed as to make some essential trait of character stand out\nin bold relief, and itself to be the stimulus to particular objects,\nresolves, and actions. If, however, this simplification is carried so\nfar that any character appears as though it were pared down to a mere\nshadow-like semblance of any form of pathos, such as love or honour,\nall real vitality and spiritual depth must necessarily vanish, and the\nrepresentation, as is not unfrequently the case in the French school\nof drama for this very reason, can only offer us a cold and jejune\nresult. We may therefore conclude that in this aspect of particularity\nthe prominent feature which asserts itself pre-eminently will be this,\nthat within the borders of this very limitation the fulness of life\nis completely preserved, so that the personality in question has free\nscope allowed it for further expansion in many directions, a power to\nadapt itself to every variety of situation, and, in short, is able to\nunfold and express in every possible way the wealth of a truly complete\nspiritual life[361]. Despite the supreme simplicity of their pathos the\ncharacters in the Sophoclean drama possess this intrinsic vitality. We\nmay indeed compare them in their plastic self-seclusion to the figures\nof sculpture. For it is also quite possible that sculpture express\nvery various delineations of character despite all the tenacity of its\ndefinition. In contrast to the bluster of overpowering passion, which\nconcentrates all its forces upon one single point, it exhibits out of\nits tranquillity and speechlessness that predominant neutrality, which\npeacefully envelops all powers within itself; but this unperturbed\nunity does not, however, persist in any indissoluble union with mere\nformal definition, but, rather, in virtue of its beauty, suffers at\nthe same time the birth-throes of all that pertains to it to disrobe\nitself as through a cloud of immediate possibility into fresh relations\nof every variety. In the finest figures of sculpture we behold a\ntranquil depth, which unfolds, as it were, the pregnant womb, from\nwhich all other potencies may be born. In contrast with sculpture it\nis yet of more vital importance to the arts of painting, music, and\npoetry, that they should display the inmost complexity of character,\nand real artists of every age have recognized this. In Shakespeare's\n\"Romeo and Juliet,\" for example, the most pathetic characteristic of\nRomeo is his love: but he is also placed before us under relations of\nthe greatest contrast, whether it be in reference to his parents, his\nfriends, his love troubles, or his affair of honour in which he fights\nwith Tybalt, his attitude of deference and trust to the monk, nay, even\non the verge of the grave his conversation with the apothecary, from\nwhom he purchases the poison. Throughout he is the same worthy and\nnoble man of deep emotions. In the same way the character of Juliet\nis unfolded throughout the range of her relations to father, mother,\nnurse, the Count Paris, and father Lawrence. And, despite of this, she\nis as deeply immersed[362] in her one preoccupation as she is in every\none of these situations, and her entire character is transpierced with\nand carried away by the one single emotion, her passionate love for her\nlover, which is as deep and broad as the unbounded sea, so that it is\nbut the simple truth when she exclaims, \"The more I give, the more I\npossess, both are infinite.\"\n\nFrom all this it appears that even when there is but one pathos\nvisible, it must unfold itself as the wealth of all it possesses. And\nthis is what really happens even in lyrical poetry, where we find the\npathos is not attached to actions determined by positive circumstances\nand conditions. For in this latter case the pathos can only assert\nitself as the spiritual state of an emotional nature otherwise complete\nin itself, which is, that is to say, free to express itself in any\nother conceivable circumstance and situation which may confront it.\nThe use of words of vital significance, an imagination which can\nassociate itself with all the world, can restore the Past to the\nPresent, can transform the entire external environment of man's life\nto a symbolical expression of his spirit, can bravely adventure into\nthe depths of comprehensive thought, and, while doing so, reveal an\nexuberant, capacious, clear, exalted, and noble nature--a wealth of\ncharacter such as this, freely expressing such a world, is a prize\nindeed for the Lyric Muse. No doubt a purely logical reflection may\nfind it impossible that such, variety of character should co-exist\nwith a masterful clearness of type. We may be asked, for instance,\nin reference to the heroic character of Achilles, whose strength of\nyouth is the pre-eminent, trait of his beauty, how it is possible to\nreconcile the tender heart so manifest in his relations to his father\nand his friend with the cruel act of revenge wherewith he drags Hector\nround the walls. Precisely the same kind of inconsequence is to be met\nwith in Shakespeare's clowns. They are, with scarcely an exception,\nbubbling over with wit and the humour of genius. And, no doubt, there\nwill always be fools enough to ask us how men thus spiritually gifted\ncould ever betake themselves to such tomfooleries. The truth is that\nthe reflection of the formal logic is sure to emphasize one aspect\nof a character, and conclude that the entire man is minted under its\nimpression to the exclusion of all others. To such everything that\nasserts itself as alien to the hallmark of its beggarly mintage can\nonly appear as an inconsequence. In the truely rational contemplation\nof the whole as distinct from the parts, and thereby of the living\nthing, that which appears as inconsequent will be precisely that which\nbrings all into fit co-ordination. For our humanity is just this\nvery paradox. We have not merely to carry[363] the contradictions of\nour complex nature, but to suffer the load[363] with patience, and\nthroughout prove staunch to our burden.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We may conclude, then, that character must fuse together\nits particularity in the element of its spiritual substance; it\nshould possess a definite type, and at the same time retain in this\ndistinction the force and stability of a _single_ fully self-consistent\npathos. Where we find our humanity represented without such a centre\nof unity, the different aspects of such variety it may possess\nwill lose all relative meaning or significance and fall away from\neach other. In art we shall find that what we distinguish in our\nconception of personality as infinite or the Divine is just this\nself-consistency in unity. If this view be a just one it is obvious\nthat such characterizations as stability and determination are of\ngreat importance in the ideal representation of character. And we\nshall only obtain such a result, as already observed, in so far as the\nuniversality of the powers inherent in our humanity are permitted to\ntranspierce the mere particularity of the individual character and, by\nvirtue of the unity thus set up, create a subjective and at the same\ntime individual life which supplies its own principle of unity and\nself-identity.\n\nSuch a condition is all important, and we must now advert to a number\nof artistic compositions, more particularly of later times, in express\nrelation to it.\n\nIn the \"Cid\" of Corneille, for example, the collision between the\nopposing principles of love and honour is a match, no doubt, of\nbrilliant effects. A pathos of this kind, involved as it is in the\nopposition of distinct forces may, no doubt, be the operative ground of\nconflicts; but when we find such portrayed as the spiritual struggle\nof one and the same character, though such antagonism may very readily\nsupply us with the material for brilliant rhetoric and effective\nmonologue, the cataclysm which is here presented in the emotional life\nof one person driven thus by turns from its abstract subjection to\nhonour into the equally abstract one of love, and forthwith hounded\nback again, is not favourable to the portrayal of a character of\ngenuine stability and homogeneousness.\n\nIt is equally inconsistent with the delineation of resolute personality\nwhen a leading character, already under the predominant influence\nof some specific pathos, is portrayed as one overmastered by the\ndirection or persuasion of a subordinate character, such is thus\nenabled to shift the responsibility upon other shoulders. This is\nwhat actually takes place in the \"Phedra\" of Racine when the mind\nof Phedra is depicted as entirely motived by the words of Oenone. A\ncharacter of real distinction acts out of its own initiative, and will\nnot suffer the views of a mere stranger to be that which determines\nits own resolution. Only when action is the direct result of its own\nreflections do we get that clear relation between personal initiative\nand the consequent result which carries with it the full weight of\nguilt or responsibility.\n\nWe find yet another type of this instability of character as quite a\npeculiar possession of the more recent literary output of Germany. It\nis a type of character in which a kind of flatulence in emotion is\nthe rule no less than the source. The classic example is the Werther\nof Goethe's romance, a thoroughly morbid type of character, without\nany vestige of real manliness such as might carry him beyond the\negotism of his love-passion. What makes him interesting is the passion\nand beauty of his emotional life, the intimate fellowship between\nhimself and Nature which the course of his spiritual experience and\nthe pliability of his temperament accentuate. This effeminacy has yet\nmore recently embodied itself in many other forms of expression which\ndescend with increasing rapidity to the lowest circle of jejune and\ntasteless egotism. We must not even omit, for instance, to include\nin our list that illustration of the lovely soul which we find in\nJacobi's \"Woldemar.\" In this romance we are made a present of the\nglory of emotional volubility in all its pretensions. It would be\ndifficult, indeed, to cite a better example of the self-deceptive\nillusion of personal virtue and excellence. Here we have all that\nsublimity and divinity of soul, which relates itself crookedly to every\npossible aspect of the actual world; that type of feebleness which is\nwholly unable to share in or tolerate any portion of the labours or\ninterests of practical life as it really is. So rooted is it in its\nown consciousness of superiority it passes everything as unworthy of\nit on the other side. It is, in fact, a peculiar feature of this type\nof \"lovely soul\" that, even when face to face with the truly ethical\ninterests and wholly sane objects of life, instead of meeting them\nfrankly, it retires into the seclusion of itself, where it weaves its\nown threads of finery and passes its time in hatching out its exquisite\nbrood of religious and moral reflections. And connected closely with\nthis personal enthusiasm for our superabundant excellence, which we set\nforth in front of ourselves with such a brave show, there will always\nbe an intense sensitiveness for all other beings who may appear at any\nmoment to sympathize with, comprehend, and appreciate this beauty of\nthe solitary life. If such fellow-feeling is not forthcoming we find\nthe very heart of us troubled to its depths and infinitely bruised.\nWe have lost at one stroke all humanity, friendship, and love. We are\nunable to put away with whatever act of pedantry or rudeness may be in\nquestion, some trivial circumstance or stupidity over which the vision\nof any character of breadth or strength would pass without a tremor. It\nwhirls away the thought of everything else, and that which is by itself\nof least significance proves to be that which finally most reduces us\nto despair. Such is the source of all that endless train of melancholy,\ntrouble, heartache, peevishness, sickness, dejection, and poverty\nof spirit which follows, such the spring of all those self-torturing\nreflections one on the top of another, that cramp and obstinacy, nay,\nfinally, that cruelty of soul, through which the wretchedness and\nweakness of the spiritual content of such a type, of \"loveliness\"\nconsummates and declares itself. No heart that is truly sound can\nwish to unite itself with such an emotional hermitage. For it is a\nfundamental characteristic of all genuine character that it carries\nwithin itself both the courage and the strength to do and to will some\nactual thing. The interest, therefore, that such natures which are for\never revolving round themselves may arouse in us is after all an empty\ninterest, and necessarily so despite all the conviction with which such\nnatures may assure us that they belong to a higher and purer sphere\nthan our own, a sphere which has revealed to our vision that peculiar\ntype of the Divine they have uncovered from their secret parts and\nfinally present to us, to borrow an apt figure, _en neglig\u00e9e._\n\nThis want of genuine solidity of character appears in yet another form\nwhere we find the particular manifestations of this world of \"fine\nfeelings\" turned as it were upside down and hypostatized as independent\nforces. Much that passes for magic, magnetism, spiritualism, the\napparitions of _clairvoyance_, the morbid condition of sleep-walking,\nis attributable to this source. The living person in question is\nplaced in a relation to these abstruse powers, which from one point\nof view identifies him with them, and in another makes them appear as\nsomething foreign to his spiritual life, which determines and controls\nit. It is assumed that underlying these undefined forces there is some\ninexplicable truth which borders on the marvellous, or at any rate\npasses comprehension. From the world of art, however, all such powers\nof darkness should be banished. In art there is no darkness at all, but\nall is lucid and transparent, and in adventuring after such types of\nmyopy speech merely flounders into spiritual disease, or plays loose as\npoetry with the nebulous, empty, and trivial, a good example of which\nis the verse of Hoffmann, and that piece by Henry von Klust entitled\nthe \"Prince of Homburg.\" The truly ideal character has nothing in his\ncomposition, or the pathos which expresses it, of another world and its\nghosts, but only actual interests, in which he finds himself at home.\nMore particularly is this feature of _clairvoyance_ become a trivial\nand vulgar recipe of our more modern poets. In Schiller's \"Tell,\" on\nthe contrary, when the old Attinghausen on the brink of the grave\nforetells the destiny of his country, the prophetic instinct is quite\nin its right place. It is always, however, a misfortune for an artist\nto find himself forced to exchange the sanity of a character with some\nmalady of the soul whether it be to motive the collision or excite\ninterest. For this reason he should only avail himself of the condition\nof insanity in quite exceptional cases.\n\nIn conclusion we may connect with these distortions of a sane\nvision, which are so much opposed to all real unity and consistency\nof character, the principle of our latter-day irony. This false\ntheory has betrayed the poet into grafting upon his characters\nqualities so essentially diverse that they are incapable of all\nhomogeneous relation; the essential unity of every character is thus\nconfounded. According to this theory a character is first presented\nas characterized in a certain way, and immediately after we have that\nvery determination converted into its opposite, and the character\nitself is propounded to us as nothing more than the negation of what\nit was and is. Moreover this very futility is accepted by this irony\nas the supreme discovery of art. An audience should not, in short,\nbe carried away by an essentially positive interest, but should be\npulled up at the critical moment, much as the irony itself is no\nsooner launched upon anything than it is off again. They would even\nexplain the characters of Shakespeare according to such a principle.\nWe are informed that Lady Macbeth was an irreproachable wife of the\ntenderest feeling, despite the fact that she not only falls in with\nthe suggestion of the murder, but actually eggs her husband on to\nits execution. But if the signet mark of Shakespeare is conspicuous\non any one quality it is on the firm and decisive delineation of his\ncharacters, even when it is only the formal greatness and consistency\nof evil that is in question. Hamlet, it is true, is a case of mental\nindecision, but even he is only in doubt as to the way he shall carry\nout his purpose, not at all as to what has to be done. Yet nowadays\nthey would assimilate even Shakespeare's characters to a world of\nghosts, and appear to think that this futility and indecision of ups\nand downs, this general squeamishness[364] in short can by itself\ncontribute to our interest. The Ideal, however, is centred in this,\nthat Idea is made _actual_, and our humanity is associated with such\nactuality as subject and consequently as a unity which is essentially\nfirm-rooted.\n\nWe may here, so far at least as this portion of our inquiry is\nconcerned, bring our observations upon the individuality which is\nconsistent with real character to a close. That which we have mainly\nsought to emphasize is a pathos which is at once self-determined and\nessential, the possession of a rich and complete nature, the spiritual\nworld of which such a pathos transfuses under such a form that this\nprocess of transfusion no less than the pathos itself receives its\nartistic presentment. At the same time this pathos must not be allowed\nto come into conflict with itself in the hearts of men so as to\nstultify its very nature and consistency as pathos.\n\nIII. THE EXTERNAL DETERMINATION OF THE IDEAL\n\nOur consideration of the determination of the Ideal was in the _first_\ninstance occupied with the general inquiry why it was and how it came\nabout that the Ideal ever received at all the definite embodiment of\na particular form. Following after this we arrived at the conclusion\nthat inherent process was essential to our notion of it, that in fact\nthe element of difference was only by this means asserted within it,\nand that this process viewed as a whole is presented us in the action.\nWe discovered, however, that in virtue of the action the Ideal passes\nover into actual relations with the external world; we have therefore,\nand this is the _third_ important step, to solve the further question\nwhat kind of form this its final aspect, as associated with external\nreality, the Ideal will receive under adequate artistic representation.\nWe would recall the fact that the Ideal is the Idea under a form which\nis in union with its own _actuality._ Up to the present point of our\ninquiry our attention has been exclusively occupied with that aspect\nor phase of this actuality which we may call in general terms human\nindividuality and its character. Man is, however, also in possession of\na concrete and _external existence._ In separation from this it is true\nhe concentrates his spiritual life to a point in self-consciousness,\nbut he remains for all that, even in this subjective unity, immediately\nrelated to the external world. To the actual existence of mankind the\nsurrounding sphere of a world is as indispensable as the protection of\na temple is to the statues of the god it contains. And for this very\nreason we must now advert to all or some of those many diverse threads,\nwhereby the Ideal is woven in with this external environment and is\nshown in relief against it[365].\n\nThis opens to our view a practically immeasurable expanse of relations\nand modes under which the process of the external and relative world\nis determined. For in the first place we are confronted at once\nwith the bare facts of external Nature such as particular locality,\nsituation, whether habitable or not, temporal condition, the nature of\nthe prevailing climate, whether in our earth's northern or southern\nhemispheres, and in fact in whatever direction we advance we have a\nfresh picture before us. Moreover, external Nature is made use of by\nman to satisfy his own needs and purposes; and all the ways under\nwhich he converts her to that use, that is to say the adroitness with\nwhich he discovers and then equips himself with tools and a home to\nlive in, with weapons, with seats to recline upon, carriages to ride\nin, nay, all that the art of cooking may bring with it for his food,\nthe entire apparatus of his luxury no less than his comfort, all this\nand much more fall within the limits of our inquiry. Add to this the\nfurther and yet more important consideration that every man lives\nwithin a comprehensive and equally real world of spiritual relations,\nwhich itself, too, presents to his view all the different modes under\nwhich command and submission is maintained, that is to say the family,\nblood-relationship, property, country and town life, the _cultus_ of\nreligion, the organization of defence and offence, civic and political\nassociations, private society, in short every conceivable form under\nwhich ethical customs and usages are organized in the institutions and\npermanent activities which contribute to the actual environment of\nhuman existence.\n\nIn all the directions enumerated above the Ideal is in immediate\ncontact with the reality of the practical world in its everyday dress,\nor in other words, with the commonplace prose of life. And impressed by\nthis fact we may easily be led to the conclusion, if we have already\naccepted the nebulous conception of idealism elaborated recently,\nthat art can have no alternative but to dissever herself absolutely\nfrom all connection with this world of relative appearances. Such at\nleast can only be logically inferred from a theory which assumes that\nthis relation of externality is one of pure indifference, or rather,\nin contrast to the subjective world of spirit, is of no substantive\nsignificance or worth. Agreeably to this view art is a spiritual\ndominion, whose sole object is to exalt us above the sphere of material\nwants, necessities, and dependence, and to liberate us from the\nlogic, and we may add the comedy, of facts, which in this field claim\nthe exclusive attention of our humanity. For, apart from any other\nconsideration, all that meets us upon this _terra firma_ of life's\nprose is for the most part of a purely conventional character, and,\nconditioned as it is by time, space, and custom, simply a congeries\nof contingent facts, which it is derogatory to the nature of art to\naccept. This view of ideality, which is really an illusive one, is\nin part due to one of those highly flavoured abstractions of our\nlatter-day thinking, in which we merely find that the thinker's courage\nhas failed him to come to terms with the external world in question;\nin part also it is due to that type of prepossession which drives a\nman to assert summarily his independence of practical necessities\nwhen the advantages of birth, status, and social position have not\nalready effected this for him. For such a man the only relief available\nis a complete withdrawal into the secret world of the emotions, a\nprison-house of unreality he steps out of never. Here he remains\nin what he conceives to be the temple of wisdom gazing ecstatic at\nwhat he takes to be the stars, and naturally values at the price of\na nutshell all that is found on the Earth. The real Ideal, however,\nis not confined to the shadow-like world of the emotions, but in its\nperfected whole must freely borrow from the definite structure of\nexternal objects of sight in every direction. And the reason of this\nis that man himself, whose nature is the central source that gives\nto that Ideal all its significance, is alive, and his life is only\nactual in a particular place and time, as one with the Present, as the\nindividualized type of infinity[366]; and in short the opposition of\nan external garland of Nature is a fundamental characteristic of his\nlife and its association with him and his activity is imperative. It\nfollows that if this activity is to be apprehended by art, not merely\nas belonging to man alone, but in the specific form it may take in\nthat world of appearance, the mode of its existence there will assert\nitself, as the mobility, reaction, and animating force of life itself\nin contact and transfusion with the material complex which surrounds it.\n\nMan is, however, in virtue of his self-consciousness a world in\nhimself[367], and as such is differentiated from the external world of\nNature which confronts him; and this external world is equally with\nhimself a rounded whole whose unity asserts itself in the principle of\ncausality. This self-exclusion of these two worlds is, however, only\napparent; they are in their separation essentially related, and it is\nprecisely this association which constitutes concrete reality, whose\nartistic embodiment is the content of the Ideal. And this brings us\nonce more to the question already mooted, namely, in what semblance or\nform the external material which we find in this mutually related world\nwe have referred to as concrete reality[368] can be presented to us by\nart in a manner consistent with the Ideal of art.\n\nWe will once more accept the triple division of our subject-matter,\nand examine a work of art from three distinct points of view. _First_,\nthere is the material of externality accepted in the bare abstractness\nof its forms, such as space, figure, time, colour, which we must\nconsider relatively to the artistic form most adapted to it.\n\n_Secondly_, we must consider externality in its full and actualized\nconcreteness, as above explained, a mode of reality which imperatively\nrequires in a work of art that it should be in close affiliation with\nthe subjective content of the spiritual life of man immediately related\nto it.\n\n_Thirdly_, our consideration will be directed to the important fact\nthat a work of art is created for the delight of human perceptions, for\na public in short, which justly claims that the objects of art should\nbring home to it the interests of its spiritual life, its real beliefs,\nemotions, and ideas, so that it may enter with a genuine response into\ntheir artistic presentation.\n\n1. THE CONDITION OF EXTERNALITY IN ITS SIMPLE ABSTRACTNESS\n\nThe Ideal in passing out of the bare image of its essential form into\nexternal or determinate existence secures for itself a reality which\npresents two distinct aspects. From one point of view we see that a\nwork of art discloses necessarily in the content of the Ideal the\nconcrete semblance of reality, that is to say it presents that content\nas a definite situation or particular circumstance, action, event or\ncharacter, and presents it moreover in the mode of external existence.\nFrom another it is equally obvious that art makes some specific and\nsensuous material the vehicle of the particular content in its entirety\nof all that we have above summarized; it creates in short a new world\nsensible to eye and ear, the world of art. Under both these aspects\nwe may further observe that art penetrates to the remotest limits of\nexternality which are compatible with its form as the self-including\nunity of the Ideal and conformable to its appearance as a concrete\nwhole permeated with the energy of spirit[369]. A work of art moreover\nitself may, as an object qualified by externality, be viewed in two\ndistinct ways. We may regard it simply as an external thing, and as\nsuch only conformable to a unity that is external in the sense external\nobjects are such. In considering it from this latter point of view\nwe have once more to consider that relation of externality which\nwe found it necessary to discuss in our examination of the beauty\nof Nature. And for this reason we shall again have to make use of\nthose specific determinants which we previously discussed, and even\nthen primarily in their connection with art. The modes under which\nexternal form was in the previous section exhaustively considered were\nthen treated in a twofold way. First we analysed such conceptions as\nuniformity, symmetry, and conformity to rule; we then examined unity\nitself regarded as the simplicity and purity of the sensuous material,\nwhich art makes use of as the external medium for the existence of her\nexpositions.\n\n(_a_) We will start our inquiry by examining the position in which we\nnow find ourselves relatively to such conceptions as uniformity and\nsymmetry. It is obvious that these, expressing as they do the entirely\nlifeless unity of the geometrical logic, can by no means exhaust the\nnature of a work of art even when entirely regarded as an external\nobject. Such determinations are only exhaustive in their relation\nto what is in itself lifeless, such as time and the configuration\nof space. Confined in this way though they be to the barest forms\nof externality, they are then true witnesses both to the power and\nsubstance of reason. And consequently we find they assert themselves in\na twofold manner even in art. In the first of these, it is this very\nquality of their abstractness which operates by way of contrast to\nthe living pulse of art, which is forced even in the confines of its\nsensuous material to raise itself over and beyond mere symmetry into\nthe freedom of the Ideal. In this process of liberation which may be\nexemplified in the melodies of the art of music we do not, however,\nfind that the conformity to rule disappears altogether, it is merely\nmade subservient as a foundation. In the second, this principle of\nmeasure and rule in its application to the indefinite and unlimited is\nthe one and only qualifying principle which certain arts can accept\nowing to the nature of the media which those arts make use of. In such\ncases uniformity is itself and alone raised to the ideal significance\nof the art. The principal example of an art of this type is that of\narchitecture; and the reason of this is that a work of art which is\nwholly architectonic is directed to the one object of reconstituting,\nby means of an artistic form, that which is essentially the external\nand inorganic environment of spirit. In this art, consequently, all\nthat is rectilinear, right-angled, circular, or presents uniformity of\npillars, windows, arches, piers, vaults, and so forth is the dominant\nprinciple of unity.\n\nThe artistic structure of architecture is not erected entirely as an\nobject in itself, but rather as an external frame, embellishment and\nlocal habitation for something else which it subserves. A building\nis not complete until it has received the statue of the god or the\nsociety of human beings who make their dwelling therein. An artistic\nwork of this kind should not therefore receive all or indeed the main\nattention. Holding this in our minds, it will appear obviously to the\npurpose that uniformity and symmetry should be here the prevailing\ncharacteristic of the structure; the mind passes over very readily one\nthat is throughout uniform, and will not trouble itself about it for\nany length of time. Of course, we cannot here discuss the symbolical\nsignificance, which, in addition to that above examined, may attach to\narchitectural form in its immediate relation to the spiritual content\nit envelops and emphasizes with a positive localization. The same\nprinciple applies to the art of making gardens, which we may define\nas a specific mode of architecture, in so far at least as an artistic\nconformation is imposed on external Nature[370]. In the garden no less\nthan in the building man himself is the main object. There are two\ndistinct types in this art of garden-construction. The one adopts as\nits main principle uniformity and symmetry; the other those of variety\nand irregularity. As an artistic product the former is to be preferred.\nLabyrinths, however numerous and intricate, garden-beds in endless\nalternation of spiral lines, bridges over water usually stagnant,\nwith every conceivable surprise that gothic church, temples, Chinese\npagodas, hermitages, urns, summer-houses, mounds, statues may claim to\nafford us--one glance and only one glance at such things is sufficient,\nthe vulgar and artificial pretensions of it all is too patent, and we\ndo not seek for another. It is quite another matter when we cross any\nactual situation of real natural beauty, which has not at least been\nexploited expressly for our enjoyment[371], and by its own exceptional\nmerit makes an irresistible appeal to our love of Nature and our\nsense of her beauty. A garden laid out with strict reference to the\nother extreme of regularity, makes no such attempts at surprises, but\npermits human beings to appear as the principal object in the external\nframework of natural beauty[372]. And this is really what a garden\nshould be. Again in the art of painting the principle of uniformity\nand symmetry is clearly visible in the co-ordination of the whole, the\ngrouping of the figures, their place and pose in the composition. But\ninasmuch as in painting the animation of life can assert itself through\nobjects in a far profounder degree than is possible in architecture\nwe find that it presents much less scope for the purely formal unity\nof the symmetrical, and the rule of uniformity in all its severity is\nfor the most part to be traced only as the fundamental principle of\ncomposition in the earliest phases of art, making way in its more\nadvanced forms to the freer line, which is associated in our minds\nwith organic form rather than such we meet with in the pyramid and\nsimilar geometrical shapes. Conformity to rule and symmetry are further\nimportant factors in the composition of music and poetry. Owing to\nthe incident of duration in the length of tones we find in these arts\nan aspect of what is intrinsically a purely external relation, which\nis incompatible with any other more concrete mode of presentation.\nIf we take the spatial condition it is obvious that here everything\nwhich lies in juxtaposition can be seen at a glance. It is otherwise\nwith that which occurs in Time. Here we have merely a succession\nof moments, every one of which takes the place of another, and in\nthis vanishing procession they flow on for ever. And it is precisely\nthis indeterminacy which it is the function of musical time or beat\nto inform by adding thereto a real definition capable of uniform\nrepetition. In this way the indefinite progression is subordinated to\na rational principle. In musical time we have a power which exerts\nsuch a fascination upon us, that, so far from being able to treat it\nwith indifference, we not unfrequently find ourselves beating time\nquite unconsciously with it while listening. This constant recurrence\nof equal lengths of time according to a definite measure has nothing\nto do with tones and their duration as we find them in Nature. Tone\nsimply as musical sound and time abstractly regarded, are both of them\nequally indifferent to such uniform divisions and repetitions. Musical\ntime is consequently something wholly created by the human mind; and\nindeed there is more than a suggestion of this in the fact that in\nlistening to musical time we are at once impressed with the conviction,\nthat we have, in this control of time according to fixed rule, nothing\nless than a real reflection of our spiritual nature, or rather that\nof the fundamental truth of self-identity, an illustration absolutely\nprecise of the way in which the subject of consciousness applies this\nvery principle of uniformity, unity with itself, that is to say, in\nconstant recurrence, throughout all the variety and most intricate\nmultiplicity of experience. And it is for this reason that the beat of\nmusical time meets with such a startling response in the very depths of\nour being, gripping hold, as it does, of that self-identity, which is\nthe fundamental abstract principle of our inmost life. Considered in\nthis relation it is not; the spiritual content, not the concrete soul\nof our emotions, any more than it is the musical tone as tone, which\nappeals to us so intimately; it is simply the formal unity which the\nunity of consciousness transfers to the temporal process, and which is\nthus re-echoed back to our conscious life. And the same remarks apply\nto the measure and rhyme of poetry. The sensuous medium is here, too,\nin the same way carried out of the sphere of that which is external to\nourselves, and at once asserts there the presence of something over and\nabove that which is expressed by our ordinary consciousness, which in\nits general use treats the time-divisions of tones with indifference or\ncaprice.\n\nA uniformity of similar character, if not so consistently defined,\nmay be traced still further, and is involved in the living content of\npoetry itself, although the relation here is quite an external one.\nBy this we mean that in an epic poem or a drama, both of which have\ntheir particular subdivisions, cantos, or acts, whatever may be the\nspecific term applicable, there is an approximate principle of equality\napparent in the division of subject-matter. And the same characteristic\nis generally true in the grouping of the subject in pictures, although\nsuch should not appear to be a necessary result of the nature of the\nsubject-matter itself, nor create the impression that this uniform\ndistribution is due to any controlling principle of first importance.\n\nConformity to rule and symmetry, which are the abstract unity and\ndefinition of all that is essentially spatial and its configuration no\nless than of all which is external under temporal condition, are mainly\nthe co-ordinating principles of quantity and size, as we have already\nnoticed in our consideration of the beauty of Nature. All that which\ndoes not, in virtue of its own specific medium[373], strictly form part\nof external extension, is consequently freed from the range of those\nprinciples which assert themselves exclusively in the relations of\nquantity, and are determined through relations of deeper significance,\nand the unity which co-ordinates them. It follows from this that\nthe further art embraces subject-matter which is independent of the\nexternal condition, so much the less significant the principle of\nuniformity becomes, in the co-ordination of that art's subject-matter\nand the more completely is it restricted to a subordinate position.\n\nIt will be, perhaps, advisable here to close the above discussion\nof symmetry with a few general observations upon _harmony_. The\nrelation of harmony is no longer one to mere quantity, but rather one\nto essential distinctions of _quality_, differences of tone, that\nis to say, which do not persist against each other in their native\nopposition, but as harmony or music have to be brought into concord.\nIn music we find that the relation of the tonic to the mediant and\ndominant notes of the scale is no relation of bare quantity[374],\nbut implies the presence of tones whose difference is _essentially_\na qualitative difference; which, that is to say, combine naturally\nin a unity, rather than continue to assert their distinguishing\n_timbre_ in all its glaring antithesis and contradiction. The true\ndiscord, on the contrary, requires its harmonic resolution. The same\nqualitative consistency is to be found in the harmony of colour, in\nreference to which it is likewise one of the requirements of art\nthat it should neither manifest itself in a picture as a motley and\nhaphazard juxtaposition of pigments, nor as a neutral surface whereon\nall fundamental distinction is dissolved[375], but as the artistic\nexpression of a whole in which essential contrast is mediated through\nsome principle of harmonious unity. Furthermore, we observe that\nharmony contains in itself a definite number of contrasted differences,\nwhich have naturally a particular significance of their own. Thus we\nfind under the differentiation of colour a definite number known as\nthe cardinal colours, which are primary derivatives of the fundamental\nnotion of colour, and are not due to accidental composition. Harmony\nconsists in bringing together a number of positive colours such as this\nclassification implies, and uniting them in concordant unity. We must,\nthat is to say, have in a picture not merely all the primary colours,\nyellow, blue, green, and red present, but also a harmonious scheme\nunder which they are related; and the old masters have, without direct\nconsciousness of the principle involved, paid express attention to this\ncompleteness of effect and arrived at artistic results which flowed out\nof it. And furthermore, for the very reason that we find in harmony\nthe beginnings of a release from the bare condition of externality it\nis duly qualified to absorb and express a spiritual content of wider\nsignificance. We may mark an illustration of this in the way the old\nmasters distinguished between the drapery of their principal figures\nand of those of less importance, painting that of the former in\nelementary colours of absolute purity, but only conceding to that of\nthe rest compound varieties. The mantle of the Virgin Mary is almost\nalways blue; blue in its assuaging sense of tranquillity is accepted as\nthe counterfeit of the repose and tenderness of the heart. It is only\nrarely that we find her in a drapery of emphatic red.\n\n(_b_) The second aspect of externality is the relation it occupies\ndirectly in the various material which art employs in the various media\nof its presentations. The unity here consists in the clear definition\nand homogeneousness of the material, which ought not to deviate\nin the direction of a vague characterization and mere confusion,\nor, speaking generally, give us the impression of dirtiness. This\ndeterminacy is also entirely dependent upon the spatial condition,\nthat is to say, upon the purity of its delineation, the distinctness\nof its rectilinear and circular lines, and so on, no less than upon a\nconsistent definition of Time such as we find in the accurate measure\nof the musical beat. It depends furthermore on the translucency both\nof specific tones and colours. In a good picture we shall find that\nthere is nothing unclean or \"dirty\"[376] in the colours employed,\nbut everything is clear and asserts itself openly for what it is.\nThe directness of its purity is, in fact, that which constitutes the\nlovely impression of colour upon our sense; and those colours which\nare most direct in their simplicity, such as a yellow which has no dash\nof green in it, or a red that is wholly independent of blue or yellow,\nproduce the most emphatic effect. On the other hand, it is obviously\nmore difficult to maintain a harmony of the whole when colours are thus\ncontrasted in all their pristine simplicity. Yet in despite of this\nthese essentially simple colours form the foundation of every true\ncolour scheme, and although it may be impossible to dispense with a\nconsiderable use of their compounds, even these should not be allowed\nto appear in one dead and dull interfusion, but with their simple and\nluminous derivations shining through them[377]; otherwise instead of\nthe clear lambency of colour we shall get nothing but a muddy residuum.\nWe shall find that the same thing is necessary in the _timbre_ of\nmusical tone. In the case of strings whether of metal or catgut it is\nthe vibration of the material, and, moreover, of a material of definite\ntension and length, which educes the musical note. If the tension is\ninsufficient, or the length of the string which is struck is not the\nright one, the tone inevitably loses its clearness of definition,\nrings false, as we say, owing to the interfusion with it of other\ntones[378]. We have the same kind of result when a purely mechanical\nfretting or scraping is suffered to interfere with the purity of the\nvibratory motion, and so to render the emitted sound confused and\nharsh. In the same way, it is of the first importance to the art of\nsinging that the human voice should be produced from throat and chest\nfreely and with purest intonation; the voice should be heard without\nthe least indication of its organic instrument, or, as in the case\nof hoarseness, with an obstructive accompaniment the singer fails to\nrepress. We may conclude, then, that this translucency and purity,\nfree from all admixture with anything foreign to it, and consistent\nthroughout in its clearness, is that which creates the beauty of tone\nas immediately apprehended by our senses, and which distinguishes\nit from every kind of mere noise. And we may add further it is this\nwhich in human speech conspicuously applies to the articulation of the\nvowels. A language which enunciates the five vowels with distinction\nand purity, as is strongly the case in the Italian, is essentially\nmusical and adapted to song. The diphthongs, on the contrary, always\nproduce a confused tone. In literature little attention is paid to\nthe direct reproduction of folk-dialects; we find them rather reduced\nto the simplest form of expression. In actual speech, however, this\nclearness of intonation only too often entirely disappears, so that we\nfind, and markedly so in the case of dialects such as the South German,\nSwabian, and Swiss, men actually speak with an articulation of sound\nit is quite impossible to write down. We do not regard this, however,\nto be necessarily a defect in human speech, but rather a reflection of\nthe rawness of the common folk. And here we must close our observations\nupon that external aspect of art, which, from the fact that it is\nexternal, and nothing more, is only capable of receiving an external\nand abstract unity.\n\nNow according to its more comprehensive definition it is the _concrete\nindividuality_ of the Ideal impregnated with reason, which takes to\nitself externality as the form of its embodiment, and, moreover, in\nsuch a way that the external semblance, which is thus the medium of\nits expression, is throughout suffused with the mind inherent in this\nconcrete individual form. In consequence of this such modes of relation\nas uniformity, symmetry, and harmony, or, in other words, the more\nsimple determinations of the sensuous material are no longer adequate.\nThis defect naturally extends our inquiry to that second aspect of the\nexternal determination of the Ideal already stated.\n\n\n2. THE COALESCENCE OF THE CONCRETE IDEAL WITH ITS EXTERNAL REALITY\n\nThe fundamental truth which we shall endeavour to substantiate before\neverything in the matter which now immediately engages our attention is\nthis, that man is under an obligation to make himself at peace and at\nhome in the environment of the world; or, to put it rather differently,\nhis individuality must live itself into Nature and all the conditions\nof that external world, and by doing so assert its freedom visibly.\nAnd, moreover, this must take place in such a way that these two\nrelated factors, that is, on the one side, the entirety of his inward\nlife and the character it possesses or displays in all conditions or\nactions whatsoever, and, on the other, that objective entirety of\nexternal existence which confronts him, must wholly lose the appearance\nof two worlds which are either indifferent to or not homogeneous\nwith[379] each other, and forthwith proclaim themselves as harmoniously\nrelated and identical in substance. This externally objective world\nmust, in so far as it is the reality of the Ideal, surrender the\nsemblance of its own objective self-subsistency and stubbornness, in\norder that its fundamental unity with that to which it supplies the\nexternal and particular embodiment may be exhibited in truth.\n\nTo establish this unity with more conclusiveness we propose now to\nexamine our subject under three different heads of discussion.\n\n_First_, we may investigate the same from the point of view that this\nunity which binds the two factors already defined is merely a bond\nwhich possesses _no positive reality_[380], but is merely a mysterious\nand secret connection both in its origin and appearance, by virtue of\nwhich our humanity is looped together with its environment.\n\n_Secondly_, however, as a deduction from the fact that it is the\nconcrete _spiritual_ life of man and the individuality which pertains\nto it which constitutes the point of departure, or rather the essential\ncontent of the Ideal, we shall further examine this association, as in\ntruth the creation of _human_ activity itself and only possible as such\na creation.\n\n_Finally_, we shall prove that this unified world created by the human\nSpirit is itself a complete entirety, which, in the determinate form\nof its existence, is objectively valid, and in essential relation with\nwhich every unit of our common humanity who is actively engaged with\nthe vital concerns of art must infallibly remain.\n\nIn opening our discussion of the position we proposed first we would\nat once point out an important conclusion involved in it. We have here\nposited that the environment of the Ideal is not directly due to human\nactivity, it can therefore only be regarded in this first step of our\ninquiry as something external to man, that is to say Nature. How, then,\nis this something outside man to be exhibited in the ideal work of art?\nWe will discuss this at least in its more general terms, and here, too,\ndraw attention to three aspects of importance.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In the first place external Nature, so far as the reproduction of\nits external form is concerned, is in every respect a reality which is\nembodied in some _definite_ shape. If our representation is in every\nrespect to satisfy really all that is implied in this condition it\nmust be the exact counterpart of the phenomenal truth of Nature. We\nhave, however, already drawn attention to material points of difference\nbetween the truth of Nature and its reproduction by art which cannot be\ndisregarded. We may, however, observe that it is an almost universal\ncharacteristic of the great masters that they are conspicuously true\nin their delineation and elaboration of the broad facts of Nature. And\nthis is not so much due to a love of imitation as it is due to the fact\nthat Nature is not merely in a general way the objective facts of a\nheaven and an Earth with humanity suspended, as it were, in a _vacuo_\nbetween them; but rather that the emotional life and activity of man\ncan only be rightly conceived as alive and operative in a given place\nwith all its associations of streams, rivers, hills, mountains, plains,\ndales, and forests. Take the case, for example, of Homer, who is not at\nall a poet of the picturesque in natural scenery as we now understand\nit; we shall, nevertheless, find even in him the descriptions and\nindications he gives us of actual places or natural features such\nas the rivers Scamander or Simois, the coast and bays of the sea\nand so forth correspond with such truth to Nature that geographical\ninvestigators only quite recently have been able to map out the\nlocality to which he refers in entire accordance with his descriptions.\nThe ballad-singers of the Middle Ages present a sordid[381] contrast\nto him in this respect, no less than in their power of depicting\ncharacter; the effect of their productions either way is bald, jejune\nand nebulous. Even in the case of the Meistersingers, though they\nversify old biblical stories which they locate in Jerusalem and\nelsewhere, it is little more than the bare names which we get. In the\nBook of heroes[382] the effect is precisely similar. Otnith rides\nthrough the pine-forest, fights with the dragon, but it is no world\nof men or distinct locality we can recognize, and our imagination is\nconsequently in this respect left without any support. Even in the\nNibelungenlied there is no real increase of local interest. It is\ntrue the names of Worms, the Rhine, and the Danube are mentioned;\nbut practically all further detail is omitted and the result is as\nbarren as before. And yet it is clearly through this very clearness of\ndefinition that our narration becomes individual and real; without this\nit is a mere abstraction which directly gives the lie to the concrete\nreality it proposes to present.\n\n(_\u03b2_) In addition to these fundamental requirements of clear definition\nand correspondence with the natural facts a certain elaboration of\ndetail will frequently much assist us in presenting the external\naspects of a picture which our perception or imagination can readily\nseize. Unquestionably, owing to the nature of the particular medium\nin which the several arts express themselves, there will be a marked\ndifference of range to which, in any particular case, this process\nmay be carried. If we take the art of sculpture, for example, we\nshall find that the repose and universality, which are the fundamental\nfeatures of its characterization, are less consistent with this\nelaboration of external detail than is the case in some other arts.\nExternality is here neither defined as a particular place nor a\nparticular environment, but is entirely concentrated upon such details\nas drapery, arrangement of hair, dress, weapons of war, mode of seat\nand the like. Nay more, the actual definition of many figures in\nantique sculpture is only obtained through an entirely conventional\narrangement of drapery or hair, or other distinguishing accessories.\nThis is not, however, the place to discuss further the significance of\nthe conventional. It is obviously outside the sphere of natural fact\nand rather related to the contingent; or, to put the matter in this\nparticular case more fully, it is the means through which we arrive\nat that which is more universal and persistent in our final artistic\neffect.\n\nAs a reverse case to that of sculpture the subject-matter of lyrical\npoetry is pre-eminently man's emotional life; for this reason it is\nnot so necessary in this type of poetry to lay stress on the detail of\nactual facts even when reference is made to the external world. It is,\non the other hand, part of the function of epic poetry to state events\nas actual facts, to be precise as to the place where actions occurred\nand in what manner they were performed; and, in short, of all types\nof poetry it is the one to which the widest latitude and the closest\naccuracy of local detail is most essential. And, furthermore, if we\ncontrast all the arts together in this respect we shall find that not\none of them is, by virtue of its medium[383], so exclusively occupied\nwith the detail of external Nature as that of painting. At the same\ntime we must add a word that applies equally to all of them. Whatever\nthe definition of Nature may be, it never ought to give the erroneous\nimpression of Nature's prose reality, that is to say, as the immediate\nimitation of such; nor should that fulness of detail, which is devoted\nto the spiritual aspect of individual life and its events, be carried\nby enthusiasm out of the due relation of its importance to the whole.\nAnd generally we may affirm of both that such exclusive definition\nought not to be all that is anywhere presented, inasmuch as everywhere\nin a work of art that which is a natural fact should only receive its\nartistic embodiment in close relation to man's spiritual life.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We have here struck the very note we wish particularly to\nemphasize. We have already remarked that there are two essential\nconditions to any effective presentation of a real personality; we\nmust have before us both the reflection of the man's inner life and\nthe natural environment which surrounds him. And in order that this\nexternal surrounding appear as one that is truly his own an essential\nbond of relation must be established between him and it, one which\nto a greater or less degree is part of his own spiritual substance,\nwhere we may, doubtless, cross many traces of contingent matter and\nyet find the spiritual bed of this nexus still maintained. Throughout\nthe entire spiritual _apparatus_ of the heroes of Epic poetry, for\nexample, their mode of life, that is, opinions, emotions, and all that\nthey do we ought to be able to recognize a subtle homogeneousness, a\nharmonious _en rapport_, which fuses the two aspects of such a life\ninto one concordant whole. The Arab is thus united with Nature, and,\nindeed, apart from his sky, his stars, his torrid deserts, his tents,\nhis camels, and his horses is unintelligible. He is only truly himself\nand at home under such conditions. In the same way the heroes of Ossian\npossess in the highest degree an intense inward life; but in their\nvery gloominess and melancholy they appear as the genuine growth of\ntheir hills of heather, whose thistles are swept by the wind, of their\nrain-clouds, mists, mountains, and dark caves. The physiognomy of the\nconditions under which they live reveals to us as nothing else can\nthe secret of that inner life of emotion which is lived through with\nall its sadness, mourning, its pains, its battles, and its mist-like\napparitions in such a natural setting; they are, in short, entirely at\nhome in it and in it alone.\n\nSuch considerations supply us with ample ground for the statement we\nlet fall previously unsupported that the subject-matter of history\noffers unrivalled opportunities for perfecting this intimate relation\nbetween the two aspects of human life we have been discussing, and\nenabling, us to carry the same directly into the minutest particulars.\nVery rarely, indeed, are we likely to find that the imagination can\nsimply through its own initiative create such a harmony, although\nwe ought to feel its presence throughout, however little it may, in\nfact, have produced of the raw material it combines into artistic\ncompleteness. No doubt there is a common tendency to rate what we\nfancy is the free creation of imaginative genius above the effort of\nassimilating in artistic form a material which is borrowed; but it is\nfor all that quite impossible that the imagination should alone create\nthat harmonious _entente_, the unity of the Ideal requires in the\nconsistent and defined form which lies before us in actual existence,\nwhere national traits, to cite the examples above, are the veritable\ngrowth of such a harmony.\n\nAnd here we close our consideration of the principle accordant with\nwhich we have rendered more clear that aspect of the unity of the\ninner life with its natural environment which we posited as secret or\npotential, not at any rate directly due to human activity.\n\n(_b_) The second phase of this harmonious relation may be explained\nmore positively, being expressly due to man's own activity and his\nadaptation of means to ends. For man adapts external objects to his\nown uses and, by means of the satisfaction which his work supplies,\nplaces himself in a harmonious relation to them. In contrast therefore\nto our first indefinite[384], and, in fact, entirely general type of\nharmonious association the present one is directly concerned with what\nis particular, as exemplified in the particular needs of man and their\nsatisfaction by his converting to his use such natural objects as he\nmay require. The range of his wants and the consequent impulse of their\nsatisfaction is of a practically unlimited variety; yet it is nothing\nin comparison with the variety of Nature herself. Simplification is\ntherefore inseparable from the task whereby, our humanity imposes on\nthe facts of Nature its own vital purposes, and interpenetrates the\nexternal world with its own volitions. In this way man's environment is\nhumanized; he proves by his own acts that it is capable of satisfying\nhis nature and is unable to preserve any predominant independence over\nagainst him. Here at last, by virtue, that is, of his own productive\nexertions, we find him no longer in a merely general sense of the term,\nbut actually in every detail of his particular surroundings a real\ncentre of his own substance and at home.\n\nThe fundamental conception which it is most important to emphasize as\nthat which affects art throughout in its relation to all we have above\nconsidered may be thus stated. If we look closely at the relative\nposition man occupies in all the infinite variety of his material\nwants, desires, and aims, we shall find that it is not one merely of\n_general_ significance, but one of actual _dependence_. The absence\nof freedom implied in this relative position is antagonistic to the\nIdeal; and in order that man may become a suitable object for art, he\nmust have already released himself from the travail of this enforced\ncondition, and thrown off the chains of his dependence. Moreover, this\nact of mutual accommodation, when we trace it to its origin, may strike\nus in one of two different ways. Either he may conclude that Nature\nin all friendliness on her own part supplies man with what he needs,\nand so far from throwing obstacles in the path of his interests and\nobjects, rather freely gives them him as one who meets him half way\nwherever he goes. Or, on the contrary, we shall not fail to observe\nthat our humanity has wants and desires, whose immediate satisfaction\nNature is quite unable to secure. In cases that fall under the second\ntype it is obvious that man can only work out the self-satisfaction\nvital to him through his own energies; he must take possession of that\nwhich Nature possesses, set to rights the defects which appear, modify\ntheir form, removing all that stands in his way with adroitness; and,\nin short, convert Nature's raw material into means through which he\nwill be able to attain all that he proposes. The relation in which the\nunity between man and his environment will be most conspicuous must be\nsought for in an example, where there is already a real contact between\nthem, where, that is to say, human ability is on such good terms with\nthe amenability of Nature that all the severity of a conflict between\nthem as unreconciled forces disappears, and we have forthwith the\ncompleted symphony under our eyes.\n\nFor the reasons, then, already advanced the ideal province of art must\nbe held secure from the bare necessities of life. Property and the\nfavour of circumstances, in so far as they supply a condition, under\nwhich poverty and labour vanish not merely for this or that hour, but\nfor the most part altogether, are for this reason, we will not say\nincompatible with art, but rather in full concurrence with the Ideal.\nYet it would only betray a real lack of comprehension[385], if in cases\nwhere the conditions of our art compelled us to consider the facts\nof life in all their multifold variety, we nevertheless omitted from\nour composition all reference to the relation in which human life is\nplaced to these very natural constraints. It is true enough that such\nare purely finite conditions; but art is not therefore able to dispense\nwith them. They must not, in fact, even be treated by her as something\nmerely bad. It is rather her function to reconcile them with the Real\nin her embracing unity. And indeed the finest actions and opinions\nwhich she reflects on her mirror, if we consider the particular form\nof the determination and content alone[386], are necessarily limited\nand consequently finite. That I find it necessary to provide myself\nwith nourishment, food and drink, a house to live in, and clothing to\nwear, seats to sit upon, and everything else incidental to domestic\nlife is no doubt an inevitable concomitant of the fact that I live\nin the world; but the life that only I myself experience within me\npermeates, this external aspect of my life so completely, that men\nare fain to clothe and arm the very gods themselves, and to picture\nthem under conditions inseparable from a variety of things they seek\nto possess, and find their satisfaction in obtaining. In short, for\nart to be possible, this satisfaction of the necessities of life must\nbe assured to us. Or to take an example where this is not so, there\nis that of adventurous knights who only secure their immunity from\nexternal hardship through the continued success of their enterprise,\nwhich is therefore itself but a contingency, in much the same way as\nthe prosperity of savages is contingent upon the amenities of Nature.\nThe conditions in both cases are not favourable to Art. Her true Ideal\nis not merely to be found where our humanity is barely lifted above\nthe most rigorous condition of dependence upon the smiles or frowns of\nNature, but is most of all at home in that superfluity which suffers it\nin conjunction with Nature's bounty to expatiate with freedom no less\nthan delight.\n\nThe above remarks are obviously of very general application. Two\nconsiderations, however, of a somewhat more restricted interest may be\ndeduced from them.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The first of these relates to the kind of use to which mankind\nput the objects of Nature in seeking for a satisfaction which is wholly\n_aesthetic_, or due to some habit of the mind. Everything in the nature\nof ornament and finery, or, in general terms, everything that men\nconvert to their use for the sake of mere show comes under this head.\nAnd the point to which we draw attention is this, that when we find men\nthus decorating themselves no less than their immediate surroundings,\nwe ought not so much to conclude that all that they thus collect\ntogether from Nature's most costly and beautiful storehouse, whatever\nmay most attract their eyes in the same--whether it be gold, precious\nstones, pearls, ivory, or precious raiment--that all this unrivalled\nrarity and brilliancy, in short, is that which for its own sake, and\nprimarily as a product of Nature, interests them: rather their interest\nin it all is essentially personal as a thing suitable for the houses\nthey live in, or for that which they most love and honour, whether it\nbe their rulers, their temples, or their gods. A man selects in this\nway that which already appears to him as externally beautiful, pure\ntranslucent colour, glitter of metals, fragrant woods, marble, and all\nthe rest. Poetry, and particularly Oriental poetry, makes a willing\nuse of such wealth, a fact we may even illustrate from such a poem as\nthe Nibelungenlied: and generally it is true enough that Art in such\nmatters is not merely content with a general description of the beauty\nor value of such fine things; but, where the artistic form and the\noccasion allows, will describe such works in all the detail of their\nworkmanship with as royal a bounty as the works themselves. There was\nno stint of either gold or ivory on the statue of Pallas at Athens,\nor that of Zeus at Olympia; and the temples of the ancient gods, the\nchurches of Christendom, the pictures of saints, and the palaces of\nkings, are notable illustrations among all nations that possess any\nof them, to what kind of service splendour and brilliant show may be\ndevoted; thus have nations in every age delighted in seeing upon their\ngods the visible presence of their own wealth, precisely as they have\nfound delight in the splendour of their princes as a glory they still\npossessed, though ravished from themselves.\n\nWe all know, of course, that type of moralist who is only too ready\nto disturb the vision of such an enjoyment. We shall, no doubt, be\nreminded how many poor Athenians the aegis of Pallas could have\nsupplied with a hearty meal, or how many slaves could have thus been\nliberated; and, doubtless, we must admit that in the case of the\nancient world, no less than in days more near to our own wealth, all\nthat has been lavished on temple, cloister, or cathedral, or other\nobjects of public utility, has been expended under social conditions of\nthe direst need to many. Nay, we may carry such melancholy reflections\nyet further, and find in them a condemnation not merely of particular\nworks of art, but of Art herself and all that she gives us. What sums\nof money are involved in the building by the State of an Academy of\nArts, or the purchase of ancient and modern works of art, and the\nappropriate embellishment of public galleries, theatres, and museums!\nBut whatever the effect of such reflections may be upon us, whether\nethical or otherwise, such is, after all, only due to the fact that\nwe are once more reminded of those very constraints and hardships\nwhose removal is a vital condition of the appearance of Fine Art. The\nappropriation of a unique sphere in its life for the exposition of its\nartistic treasures, which stands safe above the stress of that reality\nto which it contributes so largely, can therefore only redound to the\nglory and supreme honour of any people.\n\n(_\u03b2_) But, further, mankind is not merely interested in the adornment\nof individuals and the environment of their life, but is actively\nemployed in adapting the objects of Nature to its practical needs and\npurposes. It is on this plane that we come into contact for the first\ntime with all the labour and struggle which the dependence of our\nhumanity upon the prose of its finite life implies. And the question\ninevitably arises, how far all that is involved in this practical\neffort is suitable to artistic presentation.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In attempting some answer to this problem, we would draw\nattention to the historical fact that the earliest way in which Art\nattempted to banish all the prose reality of human life was the\nconception of the well-known golden age or, if we care to call it so,\nthe idyllic state. In this we have Nature depicted as satisfying man's\nevery want with no trouble to himself: while he, for his part, enjoys\nin a state of innocence all that mead, wood, flocks, garden, shelter,\nand so forth, can supply him with nourishment, dwelling, and all other\ncomforts incidental to such a life. Of the passions of ambition or\navarice, indeed of every impulse that may appear to run counter to the\nnobility of man's spiritual nature, we hear no word at all. At first\nblush, no doubt, a state of this description may strike us more or less\nas ideal, and certain types of art, limited in their range, may find\ndefinite satisfaction in presenting us with a picture of it. But we\nhave only to penetrate further below the surface and we shall quickly\nhave enough of such a vision. The writings of Gessner are little read\nnowadays, and when we do read them we find in such little satisfaction.\nThe truth is that a restricted state of life, such as the above\ndescribed, presupposes a very elementary stage in human development.\nManhood which has attained to any real fulness of spiritual stature is\nmoved by impulses of loftier range, and is not likely to be satisfied\nwith the life which clings closest to Nature and its immediate\nproducts. In such idyllic poverty of soul no man ought to live, but\nrather to accept his birthright of toil: that which his spiritual\nimpulse urges him forward to, that he must secure through his own\nactivity. Once regard the matter in this way and these very physical\nwants of man will be found to bring into being a wide and diverse range\nof activities, implanting in him the conscious sense of his own powers,\nfrom the heart of which the profounder interests and forces of his life\ncan slowly unravel themselves. But, at the same time, it is necessary\nthat here, too, the harmonious relation between the outward and inner\nlife should be maintained as the fundamental principle of artistic\npresentation. Few things are more offensive to our aesthetic taste\nthan to find in a work of art the severity of some physical disaster\nportrayed through every detail of horror. Dante flashes on us the\nstarvation of Ugolino in a few trenchant strokes. When a Gerstenberg,\nin his tragedy of Ugolino, wrings out every detail of the catastrophe\nto the last drop, telling us precisely how first Ugolino's two sons,\nand after them their father, were done to death by starvation, we feel\nat once that the subject, as thus handled, is entirely at variance with\nthe principles of fine art.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) We shall, however, find that the condition of life which offers\nthe strongest contrast to that we have described as the idyllic state,\nwe will call it the generally civilized life[387], presents, though on\nother grounds, difficulties to an ideal exposition which are equally\nserious. In a Culture-State the complexus of social wants and labour,\nof interests and all that may go to satisfying the same, is throughout\nand in all its comprehensiveness completely evolved. Every individual\nhere is immersed in an infinite network of relations with other units\nof the whole, and with so much loss to his complete independence. What\nhe himself requires for himself is either nothing at all, or only, in\na quite insignificant fraction of it, the result of his own labour:\nadd to this the tendency of all a man's normal activities is to become\nmore and more mechanical. We find, too, at the heart of this industrial\ndevelopment and the interchange of employment and rejection of human\nlabour which it implies, on the one hand the most ruthless conditions\nof poverty, and on the other a class which, raised as it is above\nthe bare necessities of existence, stands out in relief as wealthy,\nentirely released from all toil for the sake of a subsistence, able\nat any rate to devote individual attention to the finer interests of\nlife and its pathetic contrasts. No doubt the possession of such a\nsuperfluity may create an impression as though for the favoured few the\nconstant recurrence of a position of dependence had passed away, and\na man is just so much the more released from the accidents incidental\nto property because his hands are at length free from the grime which\nsoils them in securing it. But such a consolatory reflection will never\nmake a man thoroughly at home in all that immediately surrounds him in\nthe real sense that such is the garland of his own labour. For he is\nthe centre of that to the upraising of which he has not himself been\ninstrumental; it has come there out of that provision store which was\nalready full without him, which quite other persons and for the most\npart in a quite mechanical and, therefore, formal way have provided,\nand to which he is only introduced after a long series of effort and\nstruggle wholly strange to himself.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) We are consequently led to the conclusion that it is rather a\n_third_ type of human society, a society which we may place halfway\nbetween the idyllic golden age and the burgher State in its fully\ndeveloped industrial form, which is most fitted to be the subject\nmatter of ideal art. We have already analysed this state of society\nin another connection under the description of the _heroic_ and\npre-eminently ideal world-condition. The heroic age is no longer\nrestricted to that idyllic garden of spiritual attenuation, but\nincludes within its borders passions and aims of deeper moment; and yet\nwithal that which in the circle of the individual life touches closest\nthe satisfaction of each man's immediate wants is still the entire\nproduct of his own activity.\n\nMoreover, the means of nourishment such as honey, milk, and wine are\nless complex and consequently lend themselves more readily to ideal\ntreatment[388]. A diet which includes coffee, brandy, and such like\nluxuries is associated in our minds with countless industries which\nare necessary to their preparation. Our heroes, on the contrary, kill\nand roast their own food, break in their own chargers, are the makers\nto a considerable extent of all their household gods; ploughs, armour\nfor defence, shields, coats of mail, swords, spears, all are either the\nwork of the possessor, or are made directly under his supervision. In\na condition of life of this kind a man necessarily feels that in all\nthe things he makes use of, and in all that encircles him, he is in\ntouch with something produced by himself; that in contact with external\nobjects he is in contact with his own substance rather than with\nobjects which emanate from a world strange to himself and outside that\nin which he is himself master. It is, of course, assumed that all the\nenergy he expends upon working up the material into forms adapted for\nhis use is not so much troublesome labour, but a work which, through\nthe satisfaction it brings him, falls easy from his shoulders, a work,\nin short, which he can carry over every obstacle to success.\n\nWe find a society of this type in Homer. Agamemnon's sceptre is a\nfamily staff which his ancestor himself shaped from the block and left\nas an heirloom to his descendants. Odysseus put together with his\nown hands the mighty bed he shared with Penelope; and if the famous\nweapons of Achilles are no work of his own we only find the various and\ninterfused array of his own activities abated that a god, Hephaestus\nhimself, may provide them at the request of his mother Thetis. In a\nword, we meet everywhere the youthful delight in novel discovery, the\nfreshness of personal possession, the victorious sense of enjoyment.\nEverything is in its place and at home, in everything a man discovers\nthe energy of his own sinew, the adroitness of his own hand, the\ncunning of his own spirit, or somewhat that follows from his own\ncourage and bravery. In this way, and by this alone, the instruments\nwhich satisfy our human sense are not as yet relegated to a merely\nexternal relation, but men have before them the living process of the\ninstruments themselves, the vital consciousness of the human worth they\nattach to them; and they find it there inasmuch as for them they are\nnot mere lifeless things or things which habit has made lifeless, but\ncreations impregnated with their own energies. And for the same reason\nwe find here an idyllic condition of things, it is true, but not in\nthat restricted sense of the term that the Earth and her streams, seas,\nforests, and cattle supply to mankind their sustaining substance, while\nman himself is only visible to us as a passive creature limited by the\nactive powers which support him and their enjoyment. Rather we already\nsee within this morning-time of human life deep interests at work, in\nrelation to which the great world itself is but a subordinate realm,\nthe ground and the instrument for bringing into being the higher aims\nwhich are present, as a ground and environment, however, over which\nthat harmonious concord, yet withal independence, of both sides of our\nhuman world prevails; and which does prevail in the sight of all for\nthis reason that everything there exists as the product and for the use\nof human life, is at the same time the creation and enjoyment of the\nman who creates and enjoys its use[389].\n\nTo apply such a mode of artistic presentation to material borrowed\nfrom more recent times, whose completed culture offers the strongest\ncontrast to the heroic age above-mentioned, is always beset with\nextreme difficulty and liable to failure. Yet for all that Goethe in\nhis \"Hermann and Dorothea\" has furnished us in this respect with an\nadmirable masterpiece. Here an attempt will only be made to elucidate\na few significant points by contrasting the same with a composition\nof similar type. Voss, in his famous romance \"Louise,\" had depicted\non much the same idyllic lines our human life and activity in a quiet\ncircle of narrow range, if also marked with independent characteristics\nof its own. The country parson, the tobacco-pipe, the dressing-gown,\nthe garden-bench, and finally our coffee-pot, have all of them here\nimportant parts to play. Coffee and sugar are, however, products, which\nare really here out of place; they belong to an entirely different\nworld[390] throughout associated with all the varied ramifications\nof commercial and textile industries. This circle of country life\nis consequently not self-inclusive. In the beautiful picture of\n\"Hermann and Dorothea\" we are, on the contrary, under no necessity to\ndemand such a consistency. As we already have pointed out in another\nconnection, we find interwoven with the main threads of this poem,\nwhich is, no doubt, in its prevailing atmosphere entirely idyllic, the\ngreat political interests of the time, the struggles of the French\nRevolution, the defence of the Fatherland, asserted in a worthy way\nno less than with decision. The more limited scope of family life in\na little country town is not so presented us as a whole which can\neven possibly remain in total ignorance of that mighty wave of the\ngreat world under stress of a real cataclysm of events, which is the\nview we are given of the pastor in the \"Louise\" of Voss. In Goethe's\npoem we have, on the contrary, by means of the interfusion of these\ngreat world-movements, within which the idyllic characters and events\nare portrayed, the picture of a life with a typical character of its\nown set in the frame of a world of more significant content; and the\napothecary, who is here presented as the out-and-out Philistine, and\nwho merely lives within the more narrow borders of that country life's\nsurroundings, affected by that only, is excellently sketched for us\nwith the good heart, but at the same time peevish isolation, which we\nfind so natural. Add to this, in that which most closely touches the\nlife of the characters thus portrayed, we find a particular emphasis\nlaid on the fundamental aspect of this idyllic life as previously\nindicated in our former discussion of it. To mention one point only, we\nmay observe that the host does not by any means drink coffee with his\nguests, the parson and the apothecary; on the contrary, to cite a line\nor two:\n\n    Carefully brought in the mother the sparkling and glorious red-wine,\n    Poured in the clear-cut glasses, with rimlets all polished of pewter,\n    Brought in the green-coloured rummers, those goblets most fit for the\n          Rhine-wine.\n\nThey drink in the fresh air what has been grown at home, of the '83\nvintage, and withal in glasses that, as home-made, are just the right\nones for Rhine-wine. A few lines further on our fancy is yet further\nkindled with the \"streams of the Rhine river and its dearly-loved\nbanks,\" and we are even introduced to the vineyard of the host behind\nthe house itself; and, in short, there is nothing to arrest our\nattention outside the typical circle of a self-contented life which of\nits own bounty provides for its wants.\n\n(_c_) In addition to both these types of human environment we must\nmention yet another in close association with which we all necessarily\nlive. It is no other than the universally prevailing _spiritual_\nsurroundings of our life whether they be religious, legal, or moral,\nthe organization of the State, that is to say, the constitution of the\ngovernment, the judicial institutions, the family, the institutions\nof both public and private life, and all other social relations. For\nthe ideal character is not merely to be portrayed in its relation\nto all that satisfies material wants, but as itself a focus of\nspiritual interests. It is certainly true that all that is truly\nsubstantive, divine, and essentially necessary in all these relations\nis fundamentally an envisagement of one reality. In the objective\nworld, however, the forms under which this reality is manifested are\nvarious, and they are, one and all, involved in that which is wholly\ncontingent in particular examples, and the conventional usages which\nare only valid for definite periods of time and distinct nations. In\nthis variety of form all the interests of men's spiritual life receive\nan external embodiment of reality, with which every man is confronted\nin the customs, usages, and habits of society. Every man thereby, in\naddition to possessing a self-exclusive individuality of his own,\nbecomes, in virtue of his association with such spiritual realities,\neven more a member of a whole cognate with and vital to himself than\nas a unit of that external world of Nature with which he is similarly\nconjoined. Speaking generally, we may attach to this spiritual\nassociation, of human life very much the same terms and significance we\nhave already discussed in the foregoing sections; consequently we will\nfor the present pass over the more detailed consideration of it, whose\nmost important features will apply more strictly to another aspect of\nour inquiry, and will then be more appropriately discussed.\n\n3. THE EXTERNALITY OF THE IDEAL WORK OF ART IN ITS RELATION TO A PUBLIC\n\nIt is therefore necessary that art, as the representation of the Ideal,\nmust embody this Ideal in all the relations to external reality we\nhave above described, and thereby associate the inward possessions of\ncharacter with the objective world. A work of art, however much in form\nit may be a self-including and harmonious world by itself, exists none\nthe less as such an object, both real and particular, not _for itself_\nbut for such as _behold_ and _enjoy_ it, that is the Public. Actors,\nfor example, in the representation they give us of a particular drama\ndo not merely enter into converse with one another, but appeal directly\nto ourselves, their audience; and it is equally important that they\nmake themselves intelligible under both these aspects. Every work of\nart is in fact a direct appeal to the intelligence of everyone who\nconfronts it. Now it is indeed true that the real Ideal, as envisaged\nfor us in the universal interests and passions of its gods and men, is\nso far intelligible to everyone as it gives us a view of its characters\nwithin some typical external world of customs, usages, and everything\nelse that characteristically distinguishes it. But the condition of art\nwe have above formulated makes it further necessary that this element\nof external reality is not merely one with which the characters thereby\nrepresented are harmoniously associated, but must be also one within\nwhich we ourselves to whom the work is addressed feel equally at home.\nThe appropriateness of the external environment to the characters\nenfolded within it must apply with equal force to our own attitude of\nmind in regarding both. But it so happens that from whatever period\nof the world's history the subject-matter of a work of art may be\nborrowed it will be sure to contain essential features, which are quite\ndistinct from those which specifically determine other nations and\nperiods. In other words artists of every description, whether they be\npoets, painters, sculptors, or musicians, select subject-matter from\nthe Past, which in their particular state of culture and intelligence,\nethical customs, usages, and the form of their government, differ\nfrom the civilization of the times they live in. Moreover, as we have\nalready observed, this return upon the Past possesses the considerable\nadvantage that in having thus recourse to memory instead of being face\nto face with all the facts of the present, there is an appreciable\ndiminution of the material from which the artist selects his subject,\nand this he cannot readily dispense with. At the same time the artist\nbelongs only to his own century, and it is in the ethical customs,\nmodes of conception, and generally the intellectual outlook of that he\nlives. The Homeric poems Homer, to take him for once as the individual\ncreator of both \"Iliad\" and \"Odyssey,\" may have actually lived through\nor he may not; but in any case they are at least four hundred years\nlater[391] than the time of the Trojan war; and further a period twice\nas long separates the great Greek tragedians from the days of the\nancient heroes, who, as translated into the atmosphere of their own\ntime, form the subject-matter of their poetry. It is just the same\nin the case of the Niebelungenlied and the artist who finally fused\ntogether the various saga which that poem contains into one homogeneous\nwork. We may no doubt admit that the artist finds himself entirely on\ncongenial ground when dealing with everything truly pathetic, either\nin the history of gods or men; but the external and actual conditions\nof that ancient world, whose characters and actions he endeavours to\nportray, have altered in essential features and become consequently\nstrange to him. And further than this a poet creates for the sake of a\nPublic, and primarily for his own nation and his time, both of which\nshould be able to enter into such a work of art with intelligence,\nand feel at home in it. The most genuine works of art no doubt assert\na further claim to immortality, a hope that they may continue to be\na source of delight to all times and nations. But even in the case\nof works of the highest class it is none the less true that nations\nand times situated far away from those which produced them can only\nfully apprehend them with the assistance of an extensive apparatus of\ngeographical, historical, and it may be even philosophical knowledge\nand the results of much critical investigation.\n\nBearing in mind these fundamental, and to some extent incompatible\ndifferences which characterize the various points of view from which\na work of art must be regarded, the question arises what kind of form\nrelatively to its external framework of locality, custom, usage,\nand generally any and every condition of religious, political or\nethical significance a particular work of art should receive. Should\nan artist suffer his own times to pass from his mind altogether, and\nattempt only to secure the substantial appearance of the Past and\nwhat actually then existed, so that his work become simply a true\nportrayal of that; or is he not merely justified, but rather under\nan obligation, to pay an exclusive attention to his own nation and\nthe life around him, elaborating his work with express regard to the\nprinciple that it should stand in harmonious relation to his own\ntimes? Or, to put the same thing in rather more technical language,\nwe may propound the problem thus: Is the subject-matter of a work\nof art to be _objectively_ valid in its content as one entirely\nappropriate historically considered, or should such matter be treated\n_subjectively_, that is, in complete subordination to the artist's\npersonal standpoint relatively to the culture and social conditions\nof his own time? We would rather observe that both these positions,\nif thus pressed unduly, land us in extreme conclusions equally false;\nand we propose now to examine them briefly that we may by their means\nelucidate a more satisfactory theory.\n\nAnd we would consider three fundamental aspects which this problem\nsuggests. We will _first_ examine what is implied in the above\nsubjective assertion of the particular culture of the artist's own\ntime; _secondly_, there is the question what may be regarded as\nexclusively and objectively true when we refer to the Past; _thirdly_,\nwe have to consider what may still be objectively valid in the true\nsense, though we still have a representation and appropriation of\nmaterial borrowed from a time and nationality foreign to that of the\nartists.\n\n(_a_) Now to start with, if we consider this purely subjective\nassertion, it is obvious that when we press the position closely we\nare finally driven to exclude the objective embodiment of the Past\naltogether, and to maintain that artistic representation is exclusively\nconcerned with the appearance of present times.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Such a result may be doubtless, under one aspect of it,\npresented by mere ignorance of the Past. It is, then, rather the result\nof a _na\u00efvet\u00e9_, which is unable to feel the contradiction between\nthe object itself and the representation given, or at least fails to\nbring the same to consciousness. Such a form of artistic presentation\nis therefore fundamentally due to lack of sufficient culture. We\ncould hardly wish for a more vivid illustration of this than we find\nin the _na\u00efve_ productions of Hans Sachs, who has, no doubt with a\nvivid freshness of imaginative vigour and spirit, as we may truly say,\ndomesticated among us[392] our dear Lord and Father God no less than\nAdam, Eve, and the rest of the patriarchs. Here, for example, God the\nFather is portrayed as teaching a school in which Cain, Abel, and the\nrest of Adam's children--are the pupils, precisely as any pedagogue of\nthe time might have done. He catechizes them upon the ten commandments\nand the Lord's Prayer. Abel knows his lesson as a pious and good boy\nought to. Cain on the contrary behaves and replies to his teachers\nas only naughty and wicked boys would think of doing; and when it is\nhis turn to repeat the commandments turns them inside out: thou shalt\nsteal, thou shalt not honour thy father and mother, and so forth. A\nrepresentation of much the same crude simplicity having for its subject\nthe tale of our Lord's Passion used to be carried out in South Germany,\nwas then made illegal, and has since once more been resuscitated.\nIn this Pilate is portrayed in the character of an insolent, rough,\nand arrogant official, the common soldiers much in the same familiar\nway our own might, offer Christ surreptitiously a pinch of tobacco;\nhe disdains it, and they flatten it out on his nose. Vulgarity finds\nall the more jest in such an incident for the reason that it wholly\nconforms to its notions of piety and reverence, indeed calls up such\nfeelings all the more readily through its immediate reference to that\nwhich it finds in its own world, thereby making more vivid its own\nsense of devotional fervour. No doubt there is a certain justification\nfor this mode of translating, so to speak, the appearance and form\nof objective history into modern equivalents, such as we have found\nin our literature; and we may even attach a kind of greatness to\nthe courage of Hans Sachs in making himself so familiar with God\nAlmighty, and those old religious ideas that without the least vestige\nof impiety he could rivet them deep within the conditions of our most\ncommonplace life. At the same time such an attempt is none the less a\nrude intrusion upon our feelings, and indicates lack of cultivation,\ninasmuch as it not merely disallows to the object itself a right to\nassert itself as it really is, but forces upon it a mode of appearance\nso directly contrary to that which it possesses, that the result can\nonly impress us as an emphatic caricature.\n\n(_\u03b2_) As an antithesis to the above type of subjectivity we find\nanother equally supreme asserting itself out of sheer pride in its\nown culture under the belief that the views peculiar to its own\ntimes, its ethical customs, and social conventions are those alone\nworth preservation or acceptance. Owing to a bias of this kind it is\nquite unable to enjoy the content of a work of art until such a form\nof culture prevails in it. An illustration of this latter type is\nthe so-called classical good taste of the French school. Everything\nthat is here attempted must forthwith be Frenchified, and all that it\npresents under the form of any other nationality and more particularly\nwith any reference to the Middle Ages is voted incorrect and barbarous\nand is cast on one side with absolute contempt. Voltaire expressed\nanything but the truth when he said that the French have improved the\nworks of the ancient world. What they have done is to nationalize\nthem; and by this process of recasting have corrupted them with every\nkind of foreign and angular quality of their own that such a taste as\ntheirs could develop to any extent, requiring as it did throughout\na culture absolutely based on court etiquette, and a conformity to\nconventional rule and generalization in both the meaning and mode of\nany dramatic work. Indeed, we shall find the trail of this abstraction\nof a superfine culture visible in the very diction of their poetry. Not\na poet among them dare venture to use the word _cochon_, or add their\nown nomenclature to spoons, forks, and a thousand other simple objects.\nConsequently we have roundabout definitions and circumlocutions. We\ncannot have our spoons and forks; we get instead an instrument of the\nhand which conveys our victuals in a liquid or arid state to the\nmouth; and this by no means stands alone. And with all its refinement\ntheir taste is vulgar to a degree; for the simple truth is that genuine\nart, so far from planing away and polishing its content to one flat\nand unruffled surface of generalities, is most of all anxious to set\nin full relief all that makes toward the well-defined characterization\nof life. It is on account of this very taste that the French can make\nless of Shakespeare than any other poet. And when they have attempted\nto work him up to their graces they have clipped off from him precisely\nthat portion which we Germans find nearest to our hearts. For the same\nreason Voltaire makes merry over Pindar because he has made the remark,\n_\u1f04\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f55\u03b4\u03c9\u03c1._[393] And, consequently, in their works of art they\nfind it necessary to make Chinese, Americans, or the heroes of Greek\nor Roman antiquity all speak in one tongue and in one manner--that\nof their French court. Achilles, for instance, in the \"Iphigenie en\nAulide\"[394] is nothing more or less than a French prince; and if we\nhad no name to help us no one could conceivably discover one particle\nof Achilles in him. It is true that in the theatrical representation of\nthis drama he was habited as a Greek, appeared at least in helmet and\ncoat of mail; but at the same time his hair was curled and powdered,\nwith broad hips through _poschen_[395], with red claws worked on shoes\nfastened on the foot with coloured ribbons; and what is more, the\n\"Esther\" of Racine was expressly popular in the time of Louis XIV, for\nthe particular reason that Ahasuerus, on his first entrance on the\nstage, copied the appearance of Louis XIV himself, when he entered\nthe great hall of audience. No doubt, in this transcript, there was\na considerable admixture of the oriental luxuriance; but a Ahasuerus\nhe was none the less fully powdered and wearing the royal mantle of\nermine, and followed by a complete retinue of curled and powdered\nchamberlains got up thoroughly _en habit fran\u00e7ais_ with their wigs,\ntheir feathered caps under arm, their vests and hoses of _drap d'or_,\nwith their silk stockings and red buckles on their shoes. All that the\ncourt and a select circle of the privileged few were only permitted\nto see _de facto_ was here open to all classes alike--the _entr\u00e9e_\nof the king paraded in the poet's verses. The writing of history in\nFrance is not unfrequently conducted on very much the same principle.\nThat is to say, history itself and the real objects of history are\nnot the main purpose of the historian, whose interest is rather\nconcentrated either on giving the government in vogue a lesson or\nteaching others how they ought to detest it. And in the same way there\nare a host of dramas which, either expressly throughout their entire\ncontent or in passing episodes, divert the attention to the events of\nthe day; or, if passages occur in pieces which refer to former times\npresenting anything which may bear on matters of contemporary interest,\nthe parallel or the contrast is deliberately emphasized with every\nexpression of enthusiasm.\n\n(_\u03b3_) A third type of this personal treatment by the artist of his\nsubject-matter may be sufficiently described as the separation of\nthe same from all genuine artistic form whether it be characteristic\nof past or present works of art, a mode of production in fact which\nsimply presents us with the entirely evanescent colour of \"the man\nin the street\" in his ordinary everyday action and vocation without\nadding aught to the same. In other words we may describe it as the bare\ncounterpart of what the man of commonsense is conscious in the prosaic\nfacts of life, that and nothing more. In such an atmosphere of prose\nno doubt everyone finds himself at home readily enough; or rather, he\nwill only not find himself at home who takes up such a work with some\ndefinite conception of that which the very conditions of a work of art\ndemand, and consequently is aware that it is precisely from this type\nof handling that Art undertakes to liberate us. Kotzebue, in his day,\nobtained all his popular effects through compositions of this kind,\nwhich aimed at nothing else but letting the general public both see and\nhear life's troubles and vexations, the pocketing of silver spoons, the\nrisking of the pillory, or, to take particular characters, parsons,\nchamberlains, ensign-bearers, secretaries, and cavalry-majors, in their\nnaked colours. Everyone might here recognize his own household, or, at\nleast, that of some relation or friend, might see at a glance where in\nhis own precious circumstances and aims of life the shoe pinched. An\noriginality of this sort necessarily fails to stir any real sense or\nidea of that which is the vital content of a work of art, however much\nit may awake an interest for its productions in hearts that are wont to\nask for so little and are so ready to put up with the commonplaces of\nso-called ethical reflections. We may conclude, then, that the artistic\npresentation of the facts of external reality under any one of these\nthree types just examined is subjective in a one-sided way, that is\nto say, it wholly fails to present us with any adequate form of that\nobjective world as it really exists.\n\n(_b_) We next propose to examine a mode of presentation the reverse of\nthe above, one which endeavours to restore us the characters and events\nof the past so far as may be with every local detail of their former\nenvironment no less than any and every ethical or other particular\ncharacteristic which formerly distinguished them. We Germans have\nparticularly come to the front in this class of work. As a rule we are,\nin striking contrast to the French, the most painstaking recorders of\nall that is peculiar in nations other than our own, and consequently\nmake fidelity to the characteristic usages, dress, weapons, and all\nsuch antiquarian detail appropriate to particular epochs and localities\na first requisite of our art. Add to this we have the necessary\npatience to put ourselves to no end of trouble in the way of hard\nstudy in order that we may thoroughly enter into the modes of thought\nand perception which belong to foreign nations and centuries distant\nfrom our own, and make ourselves thoroughly conversant with all their\npeculiarities. This power of looking at facts from many and diverse\npoints of view in order to both apprehend and comprehend the spirit of\nevery kind of national existence makes us not merely tolerant in our\nart towards all that strikes us as exceptionally strange in foreign\ncustoms, but clamorous even to a painful degree in our insistence that\nwe have before us accurate correspondence with objective truth down\nto the most insignificant detail. The French are, no doubt, full of\nresource and energetic, but, however highly educated and practical men\nthey may be, such qualities do not increase, but rather diminish the\npatience which they possess for quiet and exhaustive study. Criticism\nis always of first importance with them. We Germans, on the contrary,\nare by nature inclined to accept any picture of real truth for what\nit is, and particularly this is so with foreign works of art. From\nwhatever part of Nature's storehouse such may come, whether it is\nplants or other creations of foreign growth, implements of any kind or\nform, dogs and cats, even absurdities, we accept them all genially; and\nthe result of this is we are able to be on excellent terms with modes\nof thought the most removed from our own, ay, sacrificial customs,\nlegends of the saints and all the extraordinary follies that go with\nthem, to say nothing of a host of other marvels equally surprising.\nAnd for the same reasons it only appears essentially rational that\nin attempting to represent characters in action we should make their\nconversation and pursuits conformable to their own substance, that\nis to say, in strict accord with the times when they lived and their\nown national characteristics, whether regarded individually or in\nassociation with each other.\n\nThis fundamental idea that the objective truth of a work of art\nis established by virtue of the type of historical accuracy above\ndescribed has obtained currency in comparatively recent times, mainly,\nthat is to say, since the literary work of Frederick von Schlegel. From\nthat time the importance of a first principle in literary criticism has\nattached to it; and further than this, it is asserted that our purely\npersonal interest should above all restrict itself to the enjoyment we\nmay derive from historical accuracy of this kind and the life it thus\nreproduces. Once accept these hard and fast rules and the conclusion\nis obvious that we are allowed no additional interest of any superior\nquality which an enquiry into the essential significance of any\nartistic content may or may not provide for us any more than we are\npermitted to derive any interest more vital to ourselves from aspects\nof such a work directly associated with the culture and aims of our own\ntimes. It is much on these lines that we find also in Germany, where\nthe enthusiasm of Herder in this direction started a closer attention\non all sides to the \"Volkslied,\" a poetic inundation of national\nfolk-songs imitating native tones of every sort of nationality whether\nit be the Iroquois, latter-day Greek, Lap, Turk, Tartar, Mongol, and\nmany another; and, of course, it is assumed to be indicative of\nnothing less than first-rate genius[396] to possess the power of thus\ndiving into the ways and ideas of other folk, and converting all\nwe discover into poetry. At the same time it is clear that however\ncompletely your poet may work his way into and emotionally realize all\nthis strange kind of world, it remains and must continue to remain for\nthat public to whose enjoyment these songs are addressed as something\nvery much aloof from it.\n\nThe truth is that such a theory, if pressed to its abstract logical\nconclusion, limits its boundaries solely to the truth of history in\nits formal accuracy, and by doing so neglects all consideration of\nthe nature of Art's content and questions relative to its essential\nsignificance, just as it disregards every aspect of it in which the\nculture and resources of modern thought and contemporary life are\nasserted. But it is as impossible to detach ourselves from the truth\nimplied in this theory as it is from equally important truths which it\nneglects; all equally claim satisfaction, and imperatively force upon\nus the necessity of finding a further solution in which the claims of\nhistorical truth may be reconciled with these rival aspects of truth\nin a very different way to that just examined. And this brings us to\nthe third question we proposed as to the nature of that objectivity and\nsubjectivity which can be fully sustained together as the reality to\nwhich a genuine work of art conforms.\n\n(_c_) The point of essential importance which we should before\nall others wish to emphasize here is this, that no one of those\nvarious aspects of truth we have above indicated should be allowed a\npredominant significance such as would impair the relative force of\nthe others; and, further, or rather notwithstanding this, historical\naccuracy pure and simple in external matters, such as local conditions,\ncustoms, usages, and social institutions generally, must receive in a\nwork of art their due place, if a subordinate one, it being only right\nthat the interest of mere historical truth should give way before that\nof a vitally true and imperishable content for the present no less than\nthe past.\n\nWe cannot, perhaps, do better by way of explaining what we consider\nto be the true form of artistic representation than by setting up in\ncontrast a few examples of some we take to be defective.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Now, to start with, the presentation of the characteristic\nfeatures of a given period may be entirely just, accurate, and\nimpregnated with life, nay more, wholly intelligible to a modern\naudience, and notwithstanding fail to escape the ordinary atmosphere of\nprose, and present us with the real substance of poetry. Goethe's \"G\u00f6tz\nvon Berlichingen\" will alone furnish us with notable illustrations of\nthis defect. It is only necessary to open the book at the first scene,\nwhich introduces us to an inn near Schwarzenberg in Franconia; the\n_dramatis personae_ are Metzler, and Sievers sitting at a table, two\ngrooms by the fire, also the landlord.\n\n    _Sievers._ Another glass of brandy, Hans, my boy, and good\n    Christian measure.\n\n    _Landlord._ You carry a glass that is never full.\n\n    _Metzler._ [_Aside to Sievers_.] Tell us that once again about\n    Berlichingen; the Bambergers are in a pretty fume out there;\n    ay, black as thunder (etc.).\n\nThe same kind of thing we find in the third Act.\n\n    _George._ [_Enters with a gutter-spout._] There you have lead\n    and to spare; spot the target with but one half of it, and\n    devil a soul shall get off, who is like to say to your Majesty,\n    that's a miss this time[397].\n\n    _Lerse._ [_Aloud._] A fine piece of metal.\n\n    _George._ The rain may take another road for all I care; a\n    brave knight and a real good rain get through most things.\n\n    _Lerse._ [_Pours into glass._] Hold the spoon. [_Goes to the\n    window._] There's one of those imperial cockades prowling about\n    with his musket; they believe we have aimed a point too far.\n    He shall have a taste of my bullet, hot too and fresh from the\n    pan. [_Loads._]\n\n    _George._ [_Drops the spoon._] Let me have a look.\n\n    _Lerse._ [_Fires._] There lies the fool (etc.).\n\nAll this is exceedingly vivid, intelligible, depicted in perfect\nkeeping with the situation and the characters portrayed. Yet for all\nthat these scenes are both trivial to a degree and essentially prosaic.\nAll we get from either the matter or the form is just the ordinary\nman's way of seeing things and reality as it appears to him or rather\nall of us to some extent. We find the same tendency in many another\nof Goethe's youthful productions, which no doubt were deliberately\ndirected against everything which previously had passed for the rule\nof the guild, and which sought for their most impressive effect by\nmeans of the nearness made clear to ourselves, an impression gained by\nthe extraordinary grasp with which the poet's imagination and feeling\nseized upon everything. But the nearness was itself too near, and the\nvital content in part so petty, that such compositions ran constantly\ninto mere triviality. We are most conscious of this kind of triviality\nin dramatic works when we see them on the stage; it is then that\nafter being worked up to some excitement by all the concomitants of a\ntheatrical performance, lights, well-dressed folk, and the rest of it,\nwe expect to see something more than a couple of peasants, and troopers\nand a glass of schnapps thrown in[398]. This phase has mainly found its\nadmirers in readers; it never had a long run on the stage.\n\n(_\u03b2_) If we now consider our subject from an opposite point of view\nit may be admitted that we can sufficiently make ourselves acquainted\nwith and assimilate the historical content of a former mythology\nand all that is most strange to ourselves in earlier conditions of\nstate-life and national custom to secure through such an intimacy\nwith, the general culture then prevailing a varied knowledge of the\npast. In fact, this acquaintance with the art, mythology, literature,\n_cultus_, and usages of antiquity is the starting point of our present\nsystem of education. Every schoolboy knows something about the gods\nand heroes of Greece and the prominent characters in ancient history.\nIt is therefore quite possible, in so far as they really enter into\nthe imaginative life of our own times, that we may find enjoyment in\nthe imaginative representation of such characters and interests. It\nis further impossible to predict whether or no such an intimacy may\nnot be eventually carried equally as far in the case of the Indian,\nEgyptian, and Scandinavian mythologies. We may further observe that\nin the religious conceptions of all these peoples the Universal God\nis presented. The determinate form, however, of such conceptions,\nthat is to say, the particular gods of Greece or India, are no longer\n_true_ for us as so personified. We do not believe in their existence,\nand the pleasure we take in them is derived from their appeal to our\nimagination. For this reason they stand entirely apart from our deepest\nemotional life, and we can imagine nothing more empty and cold than\nsuch exclamations we hear only too often in opera: \"O ye gods!\" or \"O\nJupiter!\" or even \"O Isis and Osiris!\" And the folly of it all reaches\nits height when we have the wretched saws of oracular wisdom thrown\nin--and the opera can seldom get along without them--a position of\ndignity which nowadays for the first time in tragic drama is occupied\nby pure folly and clairvoyance.\n\nThe same criticism applies with equal truth to all other historical\nmaterial relating to national customs, laws, and the like. Such\nhistorical fact is excellent in its way, but it belongs to the past;\nand when it has once ceased to have anything in common with present\nlife it necessarily ceases, in spite of all our knowledge of it, to\nbelong to us. We have, in short, no interest[399] in what has passed\naway on the mere ground that it once existed. What is historical can\nonly truly be said to belong to us when it is the possession of the\nnation, to which we ourselves belong, or when we are able to regard\nthe present as in a general way casually connected with the events\nin question, to whose continuous series the characters or actions\nrepresented are united by a bond of essential membership. For if we\ncarefully consider the matter we shall find that the mere fact of\nbeing formerly bound together with the same external environment and\npeople to which we ourselves belong is not sufficient--rather the very\npart of our nation must present features in still closer relation\nto the conditions, life, and existence of our own times. To take an\nexample of what we mean, we find ourselves in the Niebelungenlied\ngeographically on a soil that belongs to us still, but the Burgundians\nand King Etzel are so absolutely cut off from all that touches our\npresent civilization and every interest which is now coincident with\npatriotism that, without borrowing anything from the learning of the\nsubject, it is but simple truth to say we feel infinitely more at home\nin the poems of Homer[400]. Klopstock, no doubt, in his enthusiasm for\neverything that concerned the Fatherland, was prompted to substitute\nhis Scandinavian gods for those of Hellenic mythology; but, for all his\nzeal, Wotan, Walhalla, and Freja remain mere names for us, which appeal\nto our imaginations and patriotic emotions even less than Zeus and his\ncompeers of Olympus.\n\nThe point above all we desire to emphasize is this. Works of art are\nnot composed primarily for the mere student or the professor, but with\nthe express purpose that they shall be intelligible on their face,\nand a source of enjoyment without any one having to undertake first a\ncircuitous route of extensive historical investigation. For Art is not\naddressed to a small and select circle of the privileged few, but to\nthe nation at large. What, moreover, is generally valid for a work of\nart applies also to the external form of the historical reality therein\nportrayed. Such exposition also must express itself with clearness open\nto the common apprehension requiring no considerable research to make\nit intelligible, must be clear to ourselves as representations of our\ncentury and our own people, so that we may be able to find ourselves\nentirely at home in it, and not have before us a world foreign to that\nwe live in, if not actually unintelligible.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Considerations such as the foregoing have already brought us\nwithin reach of the truer conception of the objective truth of art and\nthe mode under which it assimilates the material of past history. We\npropose now to offer further illustrations in support of the same.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) And we may start at once by drawing attention to a\ncharacteristic which is common alike to the genuine national poetry\nof all peoples and in every period of past history, namely, that the\nhistorical and formal aspect of that poetry is entirely national,\nthat is to say, it retains nothing incongruous to the people for whom\nit is composed. This is a feature shared alike by the great epics of\nIndia, the Homeric poems and the Greek drama. Sophocles never made\nhis Philoctetes, Antigone, Ajax, Orestes, \u0152dipus, his choregi and\nchoruses speak in the speech and manner that would have been entirely\nappropriate to their own times. The Spaniards have written their\nromances of the Cid under the same guiding principle. Tasso in his\n\"Jerusalem Liberated\" celebrated the universal interests of Catholic\nChristendom. Camoens, the poet of Portugal, depicted the discovery of\nthe seaway to the East Indies round the Cape of Good Hope, and all the\ninfinitely various adventures of the sea heroes that made it possible;\nand these acts of daring were the acts of his own people. Shakespeare\nthrew into dramatic form the tragic history of his own country and even\na Voltaire wrote his \"Henriade.\" Far indeed have we Germans strayed\nfrom the path thus marked for us when we hope to work up into national\nepics histories remote from our own, which carry no longer with them\na national interest of any kind. Bodmer's \"Noachide\" and Kloptock's\n\"Messias\" have started a new fashion of their own, ay, as they have\noverturned that old one which taught us that it redounds to a nation's\nglory to have its Homer, to say nothing of its Pindar and Sophocles.\nThose biblical stories, it is true, present points of special affinity\nwith the national imagination owing to our close acquaintance with the\nold and new Testaments; but the historical material in its association\nwith ancient custom and the like remains for all that only intelligible\nto the savant, and all the most of us can pick up from such epics is\nthe prosaic interfusion of events and characters, which, in such a\nprocess of translation, have merely some novel form of speech thrust\ninto their mouths, and the final result can only impress us as hollow\nand artificial.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) At the same time art cannot be restricted wholly to material\nborrowed from one nation. And as a matter of fact the more\nnationalities have come into contact with one another, the more\ntheir poets have looked abroad among all nations and times for the\nsubject-matter of their poems. But however this may be the case, it\nis none the less an error to suppose that the mere fact that a poet\nis able, so to speak, to live into times aloof from his own at once\nstamps him as a man of creative genius. It is more to the point to\nrecollect that this historical framework must, in the co-ordination of\na poem, be retained only in strict subordination, and as a means of\nexpressing that which permanently belongs to our humanity. Precisely in\nthis way the Middle Ages long ago borrowed much from antiquity, but so\nabsolutely suffused it with the content of its own epoch that, in this\nrespect verging on the opposite extreme, we really get nothing from\nthat antiquity but the bare names of Alexander, Aeneas, and the emperor\nOctavius.\n\nFirst in importance, then, is this permanent condition of true art,\nimmediate intelligibility. It will be found an invariable truth that\nall nations have emphasized precisely that in this life which was\nmost agreeable to their artistic sense, their desire being always to\nfind what was most intimate to themselves, their life and existence\nin their art. It was this independent flavour of patriotism which\nCalderon worked into such characters as his Zenobia and Semiramis; and\nShakespeare in the same way was able to imprint upon the most varied\nsubject-matter the hall-mark of his English ancestry, although he\nknew how to preserve along with it the essential traits of historical\ncharacters belonging to nations foreign to his own, the Roman for\nexample, in a far profounder degree than was possible to the Spanish\npoets. Even the Greek tragedians had their eyes constantly directed to\nthe actual conditions of their times and the particular city in which\nthey lived. The \"\u0152dipus Colonus\" in its local references is not merely\nin a peculiar way associated with Athens but, by virtue of the fact\nthat \u0152dipus dies in this locality, at once indicates him as the future\nPreserver of that city. In somewhat other associations the \"Eumenides\"\nof Aeschylus is, owing to the decisive sentence of the Areopagus,\nmarked by an interest of more vital interest to the Athenians[401].\nOn the other hand Greek mythology, despite all the varied and oft\nrepeated use that has been made of it since the revival of the arts\nand learning, has never fully come home to the general sense of modern\nemotions and in various degrees in the plastic arts and still more\nin poetry, despite its very extensive influence here, has failed to\narouse real enthusiasm. No one thinks now of writing an ode to Venus,\nZeus, or Pallas[402]. Sculpture, it is true, can hardly get along even\nin modern times without the assistance of the Greek Pantheon, but for\nthat very reason it is mainly only appreciated by and intelligible to a\nselect circle of cultivated men who are either connoisseurs or critics.\nAs one of these, Goethe spared no pains in his endeavour to arouse\nin contemporary artists an enthusiasm which should go so far as to\nimitate the pictures of Philostratus, but for the most part his pains\nwere thrown away. Such examples of the work of antiquity, on account\nof the very flavour of past time and a life that has vanished, which\nclings to them, remain as strange to contemporary art as they do to\nthe general public. As a contrary example of real success on the part\nof Goethe we may instance the far profounder insight he has shown us\nduring the later period of his poetic activity in fusing by means of\nhis \"West\u00f6stlicher Divan\" the colour of the East with the poetry that\nreally appeals to us to-day, giving to the Orient, in fact, its modern\nembodiment. In this process of assimilation he has clearly shown\nhimself alive to the fact that he is a poet of the West and a German\nas well, and consequently while preserving the fundamental key-note of\nthe Oriental spirit in his delineation of characters and situations to\nwhich it was appropriate, was able at the same time fully to satisfy\nthe claims of the modern spirit and those of his own personality.\nSubject to such reservations it is undoubtedly in the province of a\npoet to borrow his material from remote regions, past centuries and\nforeign nations, maintaining in their broad and most characteristic\noutlines the historical form of ancient mythology, custom, and\ninstitution. At the same time he will take care to utilize such forms\nonly as the external frame of his delineations, never permitting the\nessential content of such productions to fall into any disharmony\nwith the profounder instincts of his own native world. As the most\nextraordinary example of this Goethe's \"Iphigenia\" still stands without\na rival.\n\nIn their relation to such a transformation the several arts dispose of\ntheir material very differently. In the love-poems of lyrical poetry\nvery little use is made of local associations depicted with historical\naccuracy. The emotional situation and the movement of sentiment is\nhere the main thing. We receive, for example, in the sonnets of\nPetrarch a very small substratum of natural fact relatively to Laura,\nhardly anything more than her name, which might just as well have\nbeen another. Of local interest we get the barest scraps, and that\nentirely of general significance, such as the existence of the fountain\nof Vaucluse and things of that kind. Epical poetry, on the contrary,\nrequires the greatest detail in its natural descriptions, and we are\nmost readily pleased with their historical truth, provided always that\nthe picture is both clear and intelligible. The use of the external\ntruth of historical facts presents the greatest pitfalls to dramatic\nart, more particularly in reference to its theatrical presentation,\nwhere everything is directly addressed to an audience, or purports to\nstrike upon sense with the vividness of life, so that we are willing\nto recognize and entrust ourselves therein with equal directness. Here\nthe delineation of historical truth in its external aspects must for\nthe most part be of subsidiary importance, in fact retain little more\nthan the framework of it. It must, in short, remain true to that\nnatural relation we find in love-poetry, in which at the same time that\nwe are able completely to sympathize with the feelings expressed in\nevery way another name is given to the beloved than that of the lady\nmost loved by ourselves[403]. It does not here in the least signify\nwhether or no our critics fail to discover absolute precision in the\npicture presented of the particular manners, culture, and emotional\nexpression of the time. In Shakespeare's historical dramas we find a\ngreat deal that remains strange to us and of no considerable interest.\nWe are contented enough on a mere reading, but in the theatre our\nenjoyment ceases. Critics and men of learning no doubt stick fast to\ntheir idea that such exquisite scraps of genuine history should be\npresented on the stage on their own merits and come down severely\nupon the wretched taste of the public, when it lets us see how bored\nit is over such things. Unfortunately a work of art and the direct\nenjoyment we receive from it is in no sense particularly for critics\nor savants, but for this very public. Critics have really no reason\nto give themselves such airs. They are after all but units of this\npublic, and the mere attention to historical detail can be of as little\nserious interest to them as any other members of it. For this reason\nthe English nowadays in their theatrical performances only include such\nscenes from the Shakespearean drama which require nothing further to\nmake them clear and intelligible, being happily free from the pedantry\nof our aesthetic professors who held that all that is most remote in\nhistorical incident from the apprehension of an average audience should\nbe thrust before their eyes. It follows also from our view of the\nmatter that when foreign dramas are reproduced on the stage the public\nis clearly entitled to have them considerably remodelled[404]. Even\nthat which is excellent in itself may require some alteration. No doubt\nit will be contended that what is essentially first-rate art retains\nits excellence for all times; but a work of art has also an aspect of\ntransitory worth, which yields to the years, and it is this of course\nwhich requires remodelling. As people change so too the sense of beauty\nalters; and it is important that the particular public, before whom any\nwork is represented, should feel themselves quite at home in the whole\nof such a work including that aspect which derives all its significance\nfrom external history.\n\nIt is this conditional acceptance of historical truth which at once\nexplains and justifies that which is generally known in Art as\n_anachronism_, and which is usually attributed to artists as a serious\ndefect. Primarily such examples of anachronism will be found to attach\nto matters of purely external interest. That a Falstaff should talk\nabout pistols is no matter of consequence whatever. The case is more\nserious when we have a violin placed in the hands of Orpheus, for here\nthe association of such prehistorical times with an instrument so\nessentially modern as the violin, one which everybody knows was not\ninvented in those days, presents too glaring a violation of truth.\nFor this reason it is now the fashion in theatrical circles to bestow\nincredible pains and care upon the historical accuracy of details in\nthe matter of costume and the getting up of a piece, as, for example,\nthe infinite trouble lavished upon the historical procession in the\n\"Maid of Orleans.\"[405] Such efforts are in the majority of eases\nlost labour, for the simple reason that they only concern matters of\nrelative interest or points that might be wholly passed over. The\nmore important type of anachronisms has nothing whatever to do with\nstage costume and all that with which stage business is concerned,\nbut consists in making characters express their emotions and ideas,\nventure upon soliloquies and actions in a form or of a substance which\nabsolutely contradicts the conditions of their times and culture,\ntheir religious and general preconceptions. It is common to apply the\nconception of natural truth to such examples of anachronism, in other\nwords, to say that it is unnatural for characters to speak or act\notherwise than they would have spoken and acted in their own days. If\nwe stick, however, too closely to the logic of this naturalism we shall\nonly land ourselves in further complications[406]. For an artist, in\ndepicting the emotional life with all that results from it, and the\nfundamental passions that belong to it, being mainly interested in the\naffirmation of individuality, ought not merely to repeat that life\nunder its ordinary daily dress; it is rather his business to show every\ntrue manifestation of pathos in the particular light which best reveals\nits real quality. The whole object of his attainment as an artist is\nnot merely to understand what is of vital significance in the truth\nhe faces, but to be able to give it the precise form which will best\ndirect our own eyes and ears and heart to his own discovery. To attain\nthis it is obvious that he must keep in view the particular culture of\nhis own time no less than all its various powers of expression. In the\ntime of the Trojan war the kind of speech in general use, and indeed\nthe whole fabric of social life, was as far removed from the type of\nculture which is reflected on us from the pages of the \"Iliad\" as the\nmass of the nation and the pre-eminent worthies of the royal houses\nthen reigning in Greece were separated from the fully developed form\nof ideas and expression such as arouse our wonder when we read our\nAeschylus, or behold the perfected beauty of the style of Sophocles.\nA violation of the so-called \"path of Nature\" of this kind is in art\nan anachronism implied in her laws. The inward kernel of that which\nshe reveals remains unaffected, but the more developed power at the\nartist's command, in revealing and disclosing this essential core\nof his subject, renders some change in the mode of its expression\ninevitable. It is a wholly different matter when a modification of this\nkind proceeds so far as to impose ideas and conceptions of a later form\nof the religious and moral consciousness on a century or a nation whose\nentire spiritual outlook is opposed to such more recent conceptions.\nThe Christian religion has gathered in its train forms of the moral\nlife, which were entirely foreign to the moral consciousness of\nancient Greece. That inward introspection of conscience, for example,\never on the alert to decide the ethical significance of action, with\nits accompanying remorse and repentance, first appears in the moral\nculture of a more modern date. The heroic character knows nothing of\na repentance which sets itself in hostility to its past. What it has\ndone it abides by. Orestes does not repent of his mother's murder. The\nFuries that rise out of the shadow of his action pursue him, no doubt;\nbut the Eumenides are, at the same time, represented as universal\npowers, and not as voices that cry out to him from his own conscience\nsimply. This very heart and substance of a given period of man's\nhistory a poet must master, and only when we find him interfusing with\nthis central core of reality matter that directly contradicts it is he\nguilty of any truly grave anachronism. In conclusion, then, we may say\nthat it is indeed part of the poet's function to live into the spirit\nof past times and foreign peoples, for this substance of their life,\nif it be truly such, remains a possession for all time; but to attempt\nto reflect with every accuracy of detail all the definition of that\nexternal show now buried beneath the rust of antiquity is merely the\neffort of a learning essentially childish, intent on preserving what is\nitself shadow rather than substance. No doubt even in this direction,\nthe truth of general outlines should be carefully respected, but never\nto such lengths as would compel art to forfeit her claim of drawing\nupon the fiction of her invention, and the truth of fact with equal\nimpartiality.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) We are now in a better condition to understand all that is\nreally implied in the assimilation by art of that which is strange in\nthe external features of remote history, and the true conception of the\n_objective_ life of her creations. A work of art must primarily enclose\nfor us within its embrace the higher interests of spirit and volitional\npower, all that is essentially human, and possesses real weight, the\ndepths, that is to say, of man's emotional life. The main thing of\nall is that this embodied content[407] should transpierce all purely\nexternal conditions of manifestation, should ring, as it were, through\nall that is less vital in its significance[408] this fundamental\nchord of truth. The real objectivity, therefore, unfolds as from a\nsheath, the _pathos_, that is the substantive content of a situation,\nunfolds, moreover, the rich and powerful personality in which the\nessential phases of spirit are alive, and find their realization and\nexpression. For such embodiment all that is absolutely indispensable\nis a definition and determination of the real, which is generally\nsuitable to the object thus defined, and which requires nothing further\nto explain it. If we have once got hold of such a form unfolded in\nstrict accordance with our Ideal principle, then we have a work of art\nessentially objective in the true sense, and the question whether each\nand every historical detail is justified is of no further importance.\nWe have before us a work of art which appeals directly to our inner\nlife, and one which is our own possession. Once possessed of that, and\nwe may take as much as we please of that element of the form which lay\nmore closely to periods of life which have passed; but the eternal\nfoundation is that which appeals to all men in all places, which is\ncarried forward with a power that never wanes or fails to influence us,\nand it does so because the objective life it reveals is the same that\nabounds in and overflows our own souls. That which is merely historical\nin the appearance is, on the contrary, the element that vanishes; and,\nin dealing with works of art created in days remote from our own, we\nmust do our best to resolve the discordance, and, indeed, must be fully\nprepared to blot out from our vision similar defects in works that\nspring from our own times. Thus it is that the Psalms of David, with\ntheir immortal celebration of the Lord in His goodness, and the wrath\nof His almightiness, no less than the profound sorrows of the Hebrew\nprophets as they face Babylon and Zion, touch men with the same force\nto-day as they did of old time: nay, even a moral diatribe, such as\nis sung by Sarastro in the \"Zauberfl\u00f6te,\" may come home to the hearts\nof us all, including the sons of Egypt[409], owing to the soul and\nvitality which rings through its melodies.\n\nAnd we may add that every individual to whom a work of art objective\nin this, the true sense, is presented, must on his part discard his\nown false prepossessions, wherein he merely wishes to find his own\nidiosyncrasies repeated. On the first reproduction of \"William Tell,\"\nit appears, not a single Swiss among the audience was satisfied. In\nmuch the same way, when the most beautiful love-songs have been sung,\nmany another, failing to find therein his own passions reflected, has\npresumed to think the beauty untrue to life; just as so many more,\nwhose knowledge of love is confined to the perusal of romances, have\nimagined that the love-god would only then be their immortal possession\nwhen they found themselves face to face with precisely the same\nemotions and situations their favourite studies had propounded.\n\n\nC. THE ARTIST\n\nWe have, in this first part of our aesthetical philosophy, examined as\na first step the universal Idea of beauty; we then proceeded to inquire\nin what respects it was defective in its existence as the beauty of\nNature, and after thus clearing the way we were in a position to grasp\nthe complete notion of the Ideal as the adequate realization of beauty.\nWe developed the Ideal, _first_, as conceived abstractly according to\nthe _general_ notion of it, and having determined that were assisted\nthereby to elucidate the modes of its _particular_ manifestations.\nInasmuch, however, as a work of art has its origin in the human spirit\nit requires the pregnant activity of an individual life from which it\nproceeds, and as the creation of the same exists for others, that is,\na Public which is emotionally receptive. This spiritual and informing\nactivity is the imagination of the _artist_. We have consequently now,\nand this is the _third_ and last aspect of the Ideal to which we shall\nrefer, to raise the question how it comes about that this product of\nmen's inner world is not the direct and native growth[410] of that\nworld, but receives its due form through the _creative impulse_ of\nparticular men, in other words, by virtue of the genius and talent\nof the artist. At the same time we must admit that the question is\nonly raised that we may be able to add the statement that it really\nis excluded from the sphere of scientific investigation, or, at the\nmost, we can only furnish a few general remarks towards its solution.\nYet it is undoubtedly a question frequently raised this, namely, from\nwhat source an artist receives the gift and faculty of conception and\nexecution with which he creates his work. We should all of us like, no\ndoubt, to have a ready prescription, a recipe of what we must exactly\ndo, what conditions we must impose on ourselves to produce something as\nwonderful. We would emulate Cardinal von Este when he asked Ariosto,\nwith reference to his raging Roland: \"But, Master Louis, where in the\nworld did you get all this damned stuff from?\" Raphael replied to a\nsimilar question in a letter we still possess, that he was hunting\nafter a certain idea.\n\nThe more obvious aspects of artistic activity we propose to examine\nunder the following heads of discussion:\n\n_First_, we will give our definition of the general conception of\nartistic _genius_ and the inspiration it implies.\n\n_Secondly_, we will make a few observations on the _objective_\ncharacter of this creative activity.\n\n_Thirdly_, we will endeavour to ascertain in virtue of what real\nartistic _originality_ consists.\n\n\n1. IMAGINATION, GENIUS, AND INSPIRATION\n\nBefore inquiring more closely into the meaning of the term \"genius\"\nwe must obviously limit the field within which we propose to discuss\nit. Genius is an expression of very wide connotation, and is used\nnot merely in its application to artists, but equally when we refer\nto great generals and kings, as also to the heroic captains of\nscientific discovery. For the sake of simplification we would once\nmore discuss the distinctions involved under a triple division of our\nsubject-matter.\n\n\n_(a) The Imagination_[411]\n\nThe most conspicuous faculty of an artist which arrests our attention\nwhen we direct it expressly upon the capacities implied in artistic\nproductivity is the _imagination._ And we must be careful here not\nto confuse it with a _visionary fancy_ which is wholly passive. The\nimagination creates.\n\n(_\u03b1_) And, in the first place, we shall find that this creative\nactivity carries with it in possession and endowment a peculiar power\nof _grasping reality_ and the forms it presents, all that through the\nchannels of alert eyes and ears imprints pictures of infinite variety\ncaught from the external world upon the mind, and further implies an\nexceptionally retentive _memory_ wherein to store up this varied world\nof innumerable reflections. The artist, therefore, in this initial\nstage of our analysis is not merely thrown back upon images of his own\ncreation, but is rather compelled to turn aside from the dull level\nof ideals falsely so called and to boldly enter the fields of Nature\nand Life. To attempt art or poetry merely with fanciful ideas of our\nown is always a suspicious way of starting on our journey; for the\nartist must mould his creations from the abundance of his life and by\nno means from the overplus of abstract generalities. It is not, as in\nphilosophy, thoughts, but the real external forms of what actually\nexists which furnishes the material for artistic production. In contact\nwith this raw material to work upon the artist must feel thoroughly\nat home. He must have seen much, heard much, and stored away a great\ndeal as well; and in illustration of this we almost invariably find\nthat a great personality is distinguished by a capacious memory. All\nthat interests mankind he will lay hold of, and the more profound his\nspirit the more it will enlarge the field of its interests in countless\ndirections. This was the way in which we find the genius of Goethe\nfirst opened its wings, and throughout his life the circle of his\nspirit's restless horizon broadened and broadened. This peculiar gift\nof receptiveness, this interest in the comprehension of facts after\ntheir true definitions and colour, their steadfast adherence to the\ntruth of experience is the first thing we look for in a great artist.\nAnd this accurate knowledge of the truth of form must be accompanied\nin equal measure by a proved acquaintance with the souls of men, the\npassions that rise in the heart, and everything that it yearns and\nstrives for. And, in addition to this twofold armory of knowledge, he\nmust understand yet further all the various ways that this world of the\nhuman soul expresses itself on the face of the reality which confronts\nhis senses, transpiercing thus the outer veil.\n\n(_\u03b2_) But, in the second place, this imaginative power is not exhausted\nwith merely receiving that which is presented to the senses, or is\ninferred as the content of the human soul. The ideal work of art does\nnot merely embrace the outward semblance of the inward spirit as\nclothed in the forms of its actual existence, but should rather succeed\nin manifesting the essential truth and reason of the real itself. This\n_element of reason_, as determined in the particular object the artist\nhas selected, must not merely be pressed in his own consciousness,\nas an active influence, but must already have been reflected upon in\nthat essential and rich significance which brings it into relation\nwith the entire breadth and depth of reality. Without reflection no\nman can grasp fully the wealth that is in him, and it is consequently\nan inseparable feature of any great work of art that everything which\nattaches to it both as a whole and in its detail has been long and\ndeeply weighed and thought out. No artistic work of real sterling value\ncan be thrown off with any mere imaginative _tour de force._[412] We\ndo not, of course, suggest that the artist must therefore comprehend\nin the form of _philosophical_ thought this essential core of reason\nin his experience; albeit such is the fundamental rock upon which\nreligion no less than philosophy and art is based. Philosophy is by\nno means essential to his outfit; and, in fact, if he once begins to\nthink about things as a philosopher, he busies himself with modes of\nthought which are diametrically opposed to that which should engage\nan artist's attention. For what the imagination undertakes to do and\nonly to do is not to bring to consciousness this inner core of reason\nin the form of general propositions and conceptions, but to apprehend\nit clothed in the concrete form of actual existence and individuality.\nAll that ferments within his life the artist must reproduce in the\nbody and envisagement, whose connected picture and general outlines\nhe has already assimilated from the world outside, making such so\nfar subservient to his creative effort that they in their turn may\nparticipate in the truth of his own substance and enable him to crown\nit with complete expression. In this interfusion of an intelligible\ncontent with an embodiment received from actual existence the artist\nwill avail himself of the ever wakeful circumspection of his reflective\nfaculties no less than the deep resources of emotional life which\nleave the stamp of vitality on his work. It is consequently but one\nmore sample of critical aberration to imagine that poems such as the\nHomeric were introduced to our poet in his sleep. Without intelligent\nalertness, division, and distinctions of each part as related to the\nwhole, an artist will be unable to assert his mastery over any form\nwhatsoever that he may wish for; only fools are of the opinion that the\ngenuine artist does not in the least know what his hands and senses are\nabout.\n\nMoreover, the concentration of the artist's emotional life on each\naspect of his work is also as necessary to its success as the\nconcentration of his mind. For it is mainly through the impression of\nemotion, which permeates and gives a vital colour to the entire work,\nthat the artist asserts his claim to the substance and embodiment of\nhis creation as a part of his own spiritual substance, as something\nhe, a given personality, may peculiarly call his own. For the external\naspect of his work, the mere picture of it as we may say, tends rather\nto place us outside it and apart; it is the emotional energy it\nexpresses which primarily unites it with affinity to our very souls.\nOnly when thus understood shall we be able to realize the truth that\nan artist must not merely have much looked about him in the world and\nassimilated a rich knowledge both of its outward show and the very\nsubstance of its life, but, further, must himself have experienced many\nthings and great things, things that have moved him to the quick and\nleft their life-roots in his own heart and spirit--he must, as we say,\nhave \"gone through much\" and \"lived abundantly\"--before he will find\nhimself able to build from his stores in the concrete types of his art\nsomething approaching Life's unsounded repletion. And this will at once\nexplain and justify the bluster and ferment of genius in its youth, as\namply reflected in the lives of Goethe and Schiller. But only the age\nof maturity and gray hairs will bring us the perfect work of art in all\nits rounded ripeness[413].\n\n_(b) Talent and Genius_\n\nThis productive activity of the imagination by means of which the\nartist gives, by a process of elaboration to that which is essentially\nrational in its nature, a real embodiment, a creation more his own than\nanything else--this is what is usually summarized as genius and talent.\n\n(_\u03b1_) We have already drawn attention to those characteristics which\nare most obviously referable to genius. Genius is the general capacity\nof creating a genuine example of fine art no less than the energy\nimplied in the execution and elaboration of the same. Moreover, this\ncapability and the power which goes with it is essentially the property\nof a human soul; that is to say, self-conscious individuality alone is\nable to create in this sense that a spiritual creation of this quality\nis just what it sets before itself to produce. Critics, intent on\ncloser definition, are wont to distinguish sharply between genius and\ntalent. And, in fact, they are not absolutely the same things, although\nit is necessary to find them united in the artist who would give us\nartistic work of the highest class. To be more exact, Art, in so far\nas it generally becomes a _particular_ art, and is exemplified for us\nin the real and definite appearance of its products, requires various\naccomplishments appropriate to the peculiar modes of its realization.\nSuch forms of executive versatility we may call with propriety talent,\nas we may say that anyone possesses a talent for perfect playing on\nthe violin, or anyone else for singing. But a mere talent for this or\nthat can only effect for us anything really good in the, so to speak,\ninsulated nooks and corners of art[414]; it moreover itself requires\nfor its true perfection something of more universal art-capacity as\nalso that soul-animation, something more which is essentially the\nhall-mark of genius. Talent, in short, without the vital spark of\ngenius, never gets much beyond a purely mechanical facility.\n\n(_\u03b2_) It is also an opinion very commonly held that superior talent and\ngenius are _inborn._ Here again we must distinguish; for if there is a\nsense in which this is true, from another point of view it is equally\nmistaken. No doubt every man, by virtue of his humanity, receives\nat his birth the potential gifts of religion, thought, and science.\nIn other words he would not strictly be a man if he did not already\npossess a capacity to grasp the idea of a Supreme Being, and generally\nto become the subject of a thinking consciousness. All that he requires\nto gain these things, in addition to the fact of his human birth, are\neducation, culture, and perseverance. With art, however, the matter\nstands differently. Art requires _specific_ aptitude[415], in which\nunquestionably natural endowment plays an essential part. As, that is\nto say, beauty is itself the Idea realized in that which is apprehended\nas real by the senses, and a work of art embodies the workings of\nSpirit in a form of existence immediately cognized by the eye and the\near, in the same way the artist must discover and embody the content of\nhis art not in the exclusively spiritual form of thought, but within\nthe sphere of sensuous perception and feeling, and indeed as creator\nin actual relation to a given sensuous material and within the limits\nof the same. This artistic creativeness consequently encloses within\nitself, as art does throughout, the aspect of immediacy envisaged with\nthe directness of Nature's own creations, and it is this appearance,\nwhich the individual is unable to evolve from himself, but has to find\nit, if he finds it at all, as immediately presented to him. Herein lies\nthe significance of the statement, and herein alone, that genius and\ntalent are innate.\n\nIn much the same way the several arts adapt themselves as by a kind\nof natural affinity to particular nations. Song and melody are, we may\nalmost say, the birth-gift of an Italian; with our northern peoples,\non the contrary, music[416] and the opera, though seriously cultivated\nand with great success, are as far from being a real home growth as the\norange trees. The Greeks are conspicuous for the native and elaborate\nbeauty of their epic poetry, and most of all for the unique perfection\nof their sculpture. The Romans never possessed an art that was in any\nstrict sense exclusively their own. All that grew into blossom on their\nsoil was transplanted from the gardens of Greece. The art whose growth\nhas the widest natural range is that of poetry; and the reason of this\nis that in it we require least to draw upon a sensuous vehicle for its\nexpressed presentment. Within the province of poetry the folk-song is\nmost of all native to a people and inseparably yoked with their natural\nconditions. For this very reason the folk-song breaks into blossom\neven in times of the rudest culture and for the most part retains the\nunconscious simplicity of Nature herself. Of this Goethe himself is an\nexample. Though he produced works in every type of poetical expression\nhis first songs still go deepest and carry least dust from the study.\nIn them, too, there is least the flavour of culture. The latter-day\nGreek is still a living witness to a people whose native gift it is\nboth to write poetry and sing. Fauriel has published a collection of\nmodern Greek songs, taken for the most part just as women, nurses,\nand school-girls were heard singing them, who could not for the world\nunderstand what he found so wonderful in them. And this is a good\nillustration of the way that we find Art and its specific appearance\nassociate itself with a particular national type. In the same way the\nart of improvization is more than anywhere else the native growth\nof Italy and exemplified there with quite extraordinary talent. An\nItalian will even to-day improvize for you a five-act drama, and not a\nword of it is committed to memory; all grows up out of his experience\nof human passions and situations and the deeply-excited inspiration\nof the moment. As an example we mention the fact that a certain poor\nimprovizer after rhapsodizing in this way for a considerable time, and\nthen finally trudging off on his round to collect his pence from the\nbystanders in a battered hat, was still in such a fume of poetic frenzy\nthat he could not bring his declamations to a stop, waved about in fact\nso lustily with his arms and hands that in the end all the money he had\nbegged was shaken to the winds.\n\n(_\u03b3_) It is, thirdly[417], a characteristic of genius that it should\npossess, and indeed it is a part of this natural endowment[418],\nfacility in creating that which it is impelled to create, and in\nadapting itself to the technical requirements of all the subsidiary\naspects of artistic work. We talk, for instance, of the fetters with\nwhich the verse, measure, and rhyme shackle a poet; or, when referring\nto a painter, of the endless difficulties that draughtsmanship,\nknowledge of tints, chiaroscuro, and the rest fling in the way of\ninvention and execution. Unquestionably a long course of study is a\nnecessary condition of success in all the arts, a perseverance that\nnever tires, a facility that is continually assisted by repetition;\nthe greater the native strength, however, of the genius or superior\ngift, and the richer its resources the less it will feel the weight of\nits effort in securing all the necessary accomplishments involved in\ncreative excellence[419]. A really first-rate artist has the lust of\nwork _born in him_ and an imperative impulse akin to any other natural\nwant to give artistic form to his emotional and imaginative life that\nis in him. His emotional life and his ideas irresistibly run into this\nartistic mould; he finds as it were the instrument already within him\nmade to the hand, so fitted to express his soul-life that all the pains\nit takes him to learn it are as nothing. A musician can thus unfold to\nus in his melodies the depths of all that stirs and moves his soul and\nonly by this means. What he feels is at once wafted into melody, just\nas the life of a painter is impressed upon form and colour, or that\nof a poet is transmuted into the creations of his imagination, that\npoetry which clothes his ideas in the beauty and music of the written\nword. And this gift of vital form the artist does not merely possess\nas an imaginative power, a phantasy, an emotional impulse \"that leaves\nnot a wrack behind,\" but as a direct stimulus of feeling to active\nenterprise, as a gift, that is, of real executive accomplishment. Both\nof these aspects are united in the real artist. What springs to life in\nhis imagination is immediately alert upon his mobile fingers, precisely\nas the sudden thought of our mind breaks into word from the tips, or\nas our most intimate thoughts, ideas, and emotions are reflected on\nthe outward man and his demeanour. Genius of the real stamp, whenever\nand wherever found, is easily quit of the difficulties presented by\nthe technical workshop; and indeed has found the most beggarly and\napparently impracticable material to accept and embody as it pleased\nthe inward shapes of imagination. No doubt the endowment which the\nartist finds as a direct gift to himself must be kept alive and alert\nby indefatigable recourse to it, but he must also possess naturally a\npractical power of immediate execution. Without this all the facility\nhe may have acquired in imaginative conception will never produce an\nessentially creative work of art. The very notion of art demands of us\nthat both things should go together hand in hand, the productive energy\nof the soul and its technical realization in the forms of art.\n\n_(c) Inspiration_\n\nThe activity of the imagination, then, and the power of technical\nexecution, taking both together as the inseparable antecedents of a\nreal artist, are commonly understood as _inspiration._[420]\n\n(_\u03b1_) The first question that presents itself to us for solution with\nregard to it is under what conditions it arises, as to which many\ndifferent views have been held.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) There is, for instance, the strange notion, to some extent\narising from the general truth of the peculiar intimacy with which\ngenius attaches itself to the worlds of conscious life and Nature, that\ninspiration can be conjured up through mere excitation of the senses.\nBut making our blood dance will not carry us far; we are still a long\nway off from the Muses, despite the champagne bottle, Such, at least,\nwas the experience of Marmontel, for he tells us that he tried it in\na wine-cellar with six thousand bottles of champagne to choose from;\nbut not a breath of the Muses passed over him[421]. Ay, your genius\nmay be as great as he lists, and for all that stretch himself many a\ntime morning and evening on the green grass, while the fresh breeze\nfloats over him, and stare up into the sky, and not a whisper shall the\ninspired Muses breathe in his ear.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Just as little is it likely that we shall make the charmed gates\nof inspiration spring open by merely presenting ourselves before them\nwith a desire to enter. Whoever fondly imagines that he is in the right\nmood to compose a poem, or paint a picture, or run off a first-rate\nmelody without already possessing the stuff in him to quicken that\nspark into vital form, and has first to hunt about for something to\nsay, despite all his talent, will find himself no better off for his\nbest intuitions, quite unable, at any rate, to conceive any complete\nthing of beauty, or perfect a really sterling work of art. Neither the\nmere tickling of our senses nor any act of will or determination can\nfather on us true inspiration. To attempt such things simply proves\nthat both the emotional life and the imagination have as yet no real\nobject of artistic interest. When once we have the artistic impulse of\nthe real kind, we may conclude the interest there has already its fixed\nseal and object, a content that it intends to master.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) True inspiration consequently is fixed in the presence of a\nspecific content, which the imagination takes up in order to give\nartistic expression to it. It is, in fact, the object of this active\nprocess of giving form both as inwardly made visible to the mind, and\nas outwardly reproduced in the execution of a work of art. Inspiration\nis equally necessary for both these aspects of artistic activity. The\nquestion once more presents itself to us, in what way such a material\nwill come to an artist, in order to bring about this inspiration. We\nfind many various opinions expressed on this head. On the one hand\nit is frequently required of an artist that the material of his work\nshould be drawn up from the world within him. No doubt this may be so\nwhen \"the poet sings as a bird from the bough.\" His own cheerfulness\nof spirit is then the incentive which enables him to represent a\nparticular mood of his own as the content of his production, and by\nthis very expression of it he gives vent to his enjoyment of the same.\nA song of this kind, straight from the heart[422], is indeed a rich\nreward. But quite as often, however, the greatest works of art are\ncreated from the suggestion of objects wholly external to himself.\nThe odes of Pindar were frequently the result of direct commissions;\nand, in the same way, the object and subject has times without number\nbeen given to artists both for buildings and pictures, and they have\nbeen able to arouse in themselves an enthusiasm for such. Indeed, it\nis only too frequently the express complaint of artists that they have\nnot the subject-matter on which to work. Such a reference to things\noutside, and its stimulus to artistic production, presents just that\nrelation of the artist to Nature and her immediacy which is essential\nto the notion of superior executive gifts[423], and is at the same time\na condition to the appearance of genuine inspiration. If we consider\nthe artist from this point of view, we shall find that it is here that\nthis natural endowment relates itself immediately to a material already\nfound for him, and through the incentive thereby offered him, through\nthe inspiration of actual fact, or as, for example, was the case with\nShakespeare, through that which was presented by old tales, ballads,\nromances, and chronicles, proceeds to embody such material in artistic\nform, and thereby generally to express his own personality. The impulse\nto production can therefore be given by something entirely outside the\nartist's life, and the only condition essential to a successful result\nis that the interest, which fixes the artist's attention should be of\nreal artistic significance, and that he is able to reproduce the same\nin all its vitality. Such conditions virtually imply the presence of\nrare inspiration. And an artist who is really alive and awake himself,\nby reason of this very vitality of his own powers, discovers endless\nopportunities for actively asserting the same, and feeling inspired\nwhile doing so, opportunities which pass over other people without\nsimilarly affecting them.\n\n(_\u03b2_) If we ask further, viz., of what precisely this artistic\ninspiration consists, we may perhaps best describe it by saying that\nit is the capacity of being entirely absorbed in a given subject, a\ncapacity not merely wholly to realize it, but incapable of resting\nuntil the same is completely minted anew, and rounded off in its\nartistic form.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Moreover, when an artist has thus entirely appropriated his\nsubject, it is but saying the same thing the other way to affirm that\nhe must know how to forget his own individual idiosyncrasies, and all\nthat accidentally attaches to them; he must, in short, on his part lose\nhimself in the matter on hand. He must make his artistic personality\nthe pure form under which the content he has assimilated is clothed and\nembodied. An inspiration in which the particular individual receives\ntoo emphatic a predominance and assertion, rather than being the\nvitally active instrument which displays the ideal significance of the\nmaterial worked upon, is an inferior type of inspiration. This truth\nopens the way to a fuller consideration of what is generally understood\nas the objective character of artistic production.\n\n\n2. THE OBJECTIVE CHARACTER OF THE REPRESENTATION\n\n(_a_) In the ordinary sense of the word we understand objectivity to\nmean that the content in any work of art necessarily receives the\nform of the reality already given, and in its artistic embodiment we\nhave the same clearly repeated. In this sense, that we desire to see\nobjective truth reproduced for us, we are entitled to call Kotzebue an\nobjective poet. In his work we undoubtedly find ordinary reality simply\nas it is again. The object of art is, however, more precisely stated,\nto strip away not merely the appearance, but the actual content of all\nthat meets us every day, and by means of the spiritual activity of the\nartist most personal to himself, to work out that which is essentially\nrational in that content in its really adequate external form. Indeed,\nif we look at yet better examples of art than Kotzebue's, such as those\nwe have already glanced at in the youthful productions of Goethe,\nwe shall find that this realistic type of objectivity can be made\nessentially living in its expression, and by virtue of this quality\nprove highly attractive to ourselves, and yet, on account of the fact\nthat the artistic form remains defective, fail to arrive at the real\nbeauty of art. Purely external objectivity, therefore, which still\nlacks the abiding and substantial significance, is not that for which\nan artist should strive.\n\n(_b_) A second type of objective realization presents itself to us in\nthe case where we find the external is not the artistic aim, but the\nartist has seized hold of his subject with all the depth and strength\nof his emotional life. This inward aspect of his work remains, however,\nso entirely enclosed within itself and concentrated that it fails to\nassert itself with a clearness thoroughly possessed, or to unfold\nitself in its full truth. The eloquence of pathos simply restricts\nitself by means of illustrations external to it, without possessing\neither the power or the culture to be able to present the fulness of\nthat content in an explicit form. Folksongs pre-eminently belong to\nsuch a mode of artistic production. Extremely simple as they are in\ntheir form, they suggest an emotional life which lies at their root\nof still wider range and depth, but which they are unable clearly to\nexpress. Their art, in fact, is itself not sufficiently elaborate\nor complete enough to carry into the light of day with transparent\nreflection all that it would unfold, and is forced to rest satisfied\nwith suggesting to our sympathies the same by means of an external\nsymbolism. The heart remains thrown back and concentrated upon itself,\nand in order to make its life intelligible to others, casts but a\nfainter reflection of its world upon entirely finite and external\ncircumstances and phenomena, which, no doubt, are thus eloquent in a\ndegree, albeit we receive from them only a far-off echo of the emotions\nand life they would bring home to us. Goethe has himself written many\nquite exquisite songs of this kind. \"The Shepherd's Lament\" is one of\nthe most beautiful. In this refrain a heart that is broken with pain\nand yearning still remains silent and reserved beneath the purely\nexternal traits which would fain relieve it; and, despite of this, we\nhear, as through an undertone, all the concentrated depth of emotion it\nfails to express. In the \"Erl-king,\" and many other of his songs, we\nhear the same tone. This tone, however, we may also meet in degenerate\nform right down to the most futile barbarism, unable to grasp either\nthe essential character of the facts or the situation, merely clinging\nto their most finite aspects in all their crudeness and absence of\nartistic taste. An example we may give from the \"Drummer-comrade of the\nboy Wunderhorn,\"[424] such inanities as \"O thou dwelling house of man,\nO gallows,\" or \"Adjutant sir corporal,\" expressions which are supposed\nto move us deeply. When on the contrary Goethe sings:\n\n     Der Strauss, den ich gepfl\u00fccket,\n     Gr\u00fcsse Dich viel tausendmal,\n     Ich habe mich oft geb\u00fccket\n     Und ihn aus Herz gedr\u00fccket,\n     Ach, wie viel tausendmal[425].\n\nstrong emotion is suggested in a very different way, which brings\nbefore our mind nothing trivial or contrary to the main idea. What\nhowever is, as a rule, defective in this particular type of poetical\nrealization is the expression of emotion in all its true intensity.\nThis, in the rarest art, should not be suffered to remain a depth shut\naway, which merely reflects a distant echo through the external objects\npresented: it should either break forth in its full character, or be\nseen through the vehicle with complete transparency. Schiller, for\nexample, brings out his soul in its full strength in the pathos of his\nwork, withal a great soul, which penetrates to the very core of his\nsubject, and is able to express its very deepest significance in the\nfreest and most perspicuous way through the wealth and music of his\nverse.\n\n(_c_) In conformity, then, with the notion of the Ideal, we may\nconclude that even when we are dealing with the mere expression of\nemotional life, we shall never fully establish our title to truly\nobjective art so long as any part of all that is comprised in the\nsubject-matter, which stirs the artistic inspiration, remains still\nwrapped up within the soul that seeks to express itself; rather all\nthat lies there should be completely unfolded, and unfolded in a way\nwhich not merely shall reveal to us the essential soul and substance\nof the content selected, but shall embody it in some completely\nhomogeneous type of individual art, through which, as through a\ntransparency, both soul and substance shall radiate. For that which is\nhighest and most excellent is not by any means that we are unable to\nexpress, as though the poet contained in himself still greater depths\nthan those expressed on the face of his work. The work of an artist is\nthe consummate fruit of that artist, and reflects precisely what he is,\nand only what he is, and all that remains behind in the temple of his\nsoul is a naught or nothing[426].\n\n\n3. MANNER, STYLE, AND ORIGINALITY\n\nHowever much it may be imperatively required of the artist that he\nshould give to his work an objective character such as we have above\nindicated, this must not make us oblivious to the fact that the\nartist's production is at the same time the work of _his_ inspiration;\nit is he alone who has, by his entire identification of his personality\nwith the specific subject-matter and its artistic embodiment, brought\ninto being the entire creation out of the life of his _own_ emotional\nnature and imagination. And it is this identity of the free personality\nof the artist and the truly objective construction of his artistic\ncreation which constitutes the third fundamental aspect of his activity\nas set forth above and which we must now shortly consider, in so far as\nwe may be thus enabled to unite that which we have hitherto separated\nin our independent consideration of the conceptions of genius and\nthe objective presentment of a work of art. We may characterize such\na unity as the conception of true artistic _originality._ Before,\nhowever, we come to close quarters with all that is implied in this\nconception, it is necessary to clearly grasp two points of view already\nrelated to it whose insufficiency we have to expose on the ground of\ntheir one-sidedness before a true conception of originality can be\nfully appreciated. These may be sufficiently indicated by the terms\n\"subjective _manner_\"[427] and _style_.\n\n_(a) The Subjective Manner_\n\nThe point of first importance in discussing the meaning of the\nexpression \"artistic manner\" is to differentiate it fundamentally from\nartistic originality. The term \"manner,\" in our view, is only used\nin direct relation to the _specific_ and consequently _accidental\nidiosyncrasies_ of the artist, that is, merely in so far as such\nqualities assert themselves as effective in his work without being\ncalled forth by the nature of the subject itself and its ideal\nexposition.\n\n(_\u03b1_) A manner thus interpreted has no connection with the universal\ntypes of art, that is to say, types which require an essentially\ndifferent mode of representation, as, for instance, the landscape\npainter necessarily treats the objects of Nature in quite a different\nway from that under which a historical painter would so treat them; or\nthe epic poet would handle similar subject-matter in a different way\nfrom that appropriate to the dramatic poet. On the contrary, \"a manner\"\nis a form of artistic expression wholly emanating from a particular\nindividuality, an entirely supposititious idiosyncrasy of executive\nability which may be carried so far as to contradict absolutely the\ntrue notion of the Ideal. As thus defined \"manner\" stands at the\nbottom of the scale among the forms which may characterize an artist's\ngeneral handling. An artist who thus expresses his individuality simply\ngives free rein to any chance notions of his own without testing them\nas subject to the substantive claims of art. But it is a fundamental\nprinciple of art that it should abolish precisely all that is merely\naccidental to its content no less than to its artistic or rather\nexternal mode of presentment. And this is only to say that it requires\nof the artist that he should efface from his work all traces of purely\npersonal tastes and idiosyncrasies he shares with no one else[428].\n\n(_\u03b2_) And for these reasons we would point out that \"a manner\"\nof this kind is not so much to be contrasted directly with the true\nexposition of art as to be considered in relation to the purely\nexternal aspects of art where the individuality of the particular mode\nof treatment comes into play. This kind of manner is most conspicuous\nin the arts of painting and music for the reason that these arts[429]\npresent to the artist the widest variety of external characterization\nfor him to seize upon and reproduce. What we find here is a certain\nartificial manner of general execution entirely peculiar to some\nparticular artist and the school of imitators or pupils who follow him,\nwhich through constant repetition degenerates into mere habit.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) And its tendency is to develop on one of two ways in which\nwe may regard the artistic work. First, there is the aspect of its\ncomposition. To take painting, for example, we have all the variety\nof ways under which the prevailing atmospheric tone, the arrangement\nof foliage, the contrast of light and shade, in short the entire\nscheme of colour may be treated. Most particularly in this feature\nof the general scheme[430] of the colouring and lighting of a picture\nwe find that painters permit themselves the most varied freedom of\nindividual preference and distaste. Of course such a prevailing tone\nmay appear to us as that we do not find in Nature for the simple\nreason that we have not had our attention directed to it although\nit is really there. But we shall often find that such a scheme has\nsimply been adopted by this or that artist on grounds of personal\ntaste or convenience[431], and it becomes simply a habit in him to use\neverything now as subject to that particular scheme. And what we have\nobserved with reference to colouring is equally true when applied to\nthe treatment of natural objects, their grouping, position, motion,\nand general characterization. This inferior mode of treatment is\nparticularly to be observed in the works of the Dutch school. Take the\ncase of Van der Neer's night-scenes and his artificial presentation of\nmoonlight, or Van der Goyen's sand-hills in so many of his landscapes.\nThe ever-repeated reflections of light from satin and silk stuffs that\nwe find in so many pictures of other masters of the same school are\nindications of the same artificial mode of handling.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) A manner of this type may be still further, traced in the\nexecution of other details, the handling of brush or pencil, the laying\non and blending of tints and many other features of executive work.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) The general conclusion we come to, after considering all such\nexamples of specialized handling and conception in which constant\nrepetition grows at last habitual to, and indeed becomes a second\nnature of the artist, is this, that just in proportion as the manner\nadopted is more specialized[432], there is an increasing and dangerous\ntendency for it to degenerate into that which is nothing more than a\nsoulless and consequently arid repetition and mechanical exercise,\nthroughout which the artist is no longer present with the fulness of\nhis spiritual resources and the entire strength of his inspiration.\nWhen this takes place his art necessarily sinks to the level of a\nmere executive facility or accomplishment of his hands, and a manner,\notherwise innocent enough, may very readily grow starved and lifeless.\n\n(_\u03b3_) The more truly artistic \"manner\" has consequently to disengage\nitself from such jejune peculiarities, to broaden out into a freer\natmosphere[433], so that no specialized mode of handling shall be\nsuffered to sterilize itself into what is simply a matter of habit. In\nthis way an artist will approach the facts of Nature with a breadth of\nview more in keeping with her own, and will understand how to identify\nhis larger conceptions and the general technique of his craft with the\nsame ideal spirit. In something of the same sense we may describe it as\na peculiar manner of Goethe that he is particularly apt in concluding\nnot merely poems of society but also openings to works of a more\nserious character with a sudden turn of pleasantry, in order to remove\nthe impression of or throw into the background the serious nature of\nprevious reflection or situation. We meet with the same characteristic\nin the correspondence of Horace. It is, in fact, an application of the\nart of conversation and general sociability, which, in order to avoid\nfollowing up any matter more deeply, comes to a stop, breaks off and\ncleverly diverts the serious into more cheerful channels. Such a mode\nof the literary art is undoubtedly part of the manner of the artist and\nhis individual style, but the individuality thus exemplified is based\nupon a broader principle, and is asserted in a way wholly justified by\nthe artistic purpose of the work in hand. And this particular type of\nan artistic manner will enable us to pass readily to the consideration\nof \"style\" generally.\n\n\n_(b) Style_\n\n_Le style c'est l'homme m\u00eame_ is a famous phrase of the French.\nStyle is here generally understood as the unique characterization of\npersonality, the particular mode of expression, however it may be\napplied, which wholly reveals to us its substance. Herr von Rumohr,\non the other hand (\"Italian Investigations,\" i, p. 87), endeavours\nto interpret the expression as a mode habitual through its constant\nrepetition of bringing together the most vital characteristics of\nthe subject-matter artistically treated, by virtue of which the\nsculptor informs his figures with reality, and the painter gives to\nhis the appearance of life. He further adds important observations\nupon the appropriate form of representation which, in the case of\nan art such as sculpture, the specific _sensuous_ material either\npermits or proscribes. It is, however, not necessary to attach the\nexpression \"style\" solely to this aspect of sensuous material; we may\nunquestionably extend it to all those determinations and rules of\nartistic production which apply naturally to any particular type of\nart, and in virtue of which an object is reproduced in the medium of\nany one of them. We consequently distinguish in the art of music the\nstyle of church music from that of opera, and in that of painting, the\nhistorical style from the style of _genre_ painting. Style is therefore\na mode of artistic presentation, which not merely follows closely the\nfundamental conditions of its material, but asserts itself as adequate\nto all that any particular type of art demands for its composition and\nexecution and in strict conformity with the laws which apply to the\nsubject-matter on hand. Defect of style will then, in this extension\nof the meaning, either imply an inability to present a composition\nin accordance with such necessary conditions, or will amount to a\npersonal caprice which rather gives free rein to its own particular\npredilections than accepts the conditions of composition which are\nreally proposed to it, in other words adopts an inferior \"manner\"\nof its own. Consequently it is inadmissible, as Herr von Rumohr has\nalready pointed out, to apply principles peculiar to one type of art to\nanother, as Mengs has done in his famous museum in the villa Albani,\nwhere both in the general conception and execution of his Apollo he\nadopts the modes of colouring applicable only to sculpture. A defect\nof the same kind may be traced in many of the pictures of D\u00fcrer, where\nwe see that even in painting, especially in the folding of his drapery,\nhe adopts the style of wood-cut in which he is so consummate a master.\n\n\n_(c) Originality_\n\nThe final result, then, of our inquiry on this head is that true\noriginality does not consist in merely conforming to the paramount\nconditions of style, but in a kind of inspired state[434] personal\nto the artist which, instead of committing itself wholly to a\nmere external manner of composition, seizes hold of a particular\nsubject-matter that is essentially rational, and by virtue of its own\nresources and quality, re-clothes the same as from within the artist\nhimself and not merely in a way conformable to the essential notion of\nthe art adopted, but also in a form adequate to the universal notion of\nthe Ideal.\n\n(_\u03b1_) True originality is consequently identical with true objectivity,\nand combines that which is due to the personality of the artist and\nthe actual subject-matter of his work in such a way that both aspects\nof his artistic product are held together in complete accord. Looked\nat in one way, such a work appears to reveal to us the very essence\nof the artist's personality, while regarded from another we only find\nthere the essence of the subject-matter artistically treated, so that\nthis very uniqueness of expression appears to arise from the unique\ncharacteristics of the material to which it is applied; and we may\nsay with equal truth either that the expressed form is due to those\ncharacteristics, or that this unique impression we obtain from them\nproceeds from the creative unity of the artist.\n\n(_\u03b2_) True originality must be entirely kept distinct from individual\ncaprice and every kind of personal expression that is due to fortuitous\ncauses. A common idea of originality is simply the stringing together\nof so many curiosities, things which this particular individual and\nno other could perpetuate or even faintly imagine. That is, however,\nmerely idiosyncracy gone mad. No people on earth are more original in\nthis meaning of the term than Englishmen, a country where every one\nprides himself on committing some folly or other, which no man in his\nsenses is likely to repeat, and then fondly imagines his performance to\nbe original.\n\nWe may in this connection briefly refer to what has been so extolled,\nand never more than in our own days as the originality of wit and\nhumour. An artist of this type of humour starts off from a point of\nview or an experience wholly personal to himself, and constantly\nrecurs to the same so that the real object of his artistic production\nis merely treated as the peg on which he may hang, or the field in\nwhich he may give full play to, whatever wittiness, jest, quirks,\nand sallies his mood may chance to light upon. In this way the real\nobject of his art and that which should render it vital in himself fall\nentirely apart, and we have a capricious mode of artistic production,\nin which the idiosyncrasy of the artist is made to appear as of first\nimportance. A humour of this kind is often replete with intellectual\nbrilliance and deep feeling, and in its general result is very apt to\nimpose on us; yet for all that it is not generally such a difficult\nmatter as is commonly believed. To constantly interrupt the rational\ncontent of that which we are really dealing with, interrupting\nall steady progress with a stream of capricious fresh starts and\nconclusions, a sort of patchwork of whims and emotional excursions,\nand thereby to create a caricature of imaginative vigour is far\neasier than to develop and round off with completeness an artistic\nwhole of sterling quality throughout such as will testify to the real\nIdeal. Moreover, our humour nowadays is only too ready to give us\nthe repulsive features of a talent for wit essentially crude, and is\nconstantly degenerating into coarse buffoonery and emptiness. We do\nnot often get from it real humour at all. The stalest trivialities are\nwont to pass now for brilliancy and depth of soul provided they only\nrig themselves out in the pretentious motley of humour. Shakespeare, on\nthe contrary, possessed a grand and profound sense of humour, but even\nhis works are by no means destitute of shallows. The humour of Jean\nPaul too often surprises us with the depth of its wit and the beauty\nof its sentiment, but we are quite as often repelled by the absurdly\neccentric way in which he hitches together his subjects, or rather\nleaves them with the bare jointure to lie apart, and then floods all\nhe has to say with a kind of humour that leaves it almost impossible to\nmake head or tail of. No humourist, however great he may be, is likely\nto find anything resembling it in his memory; and our main impression\nis frequently, even in the case of Jean Paul's kaleidoscopic effects,\nthat they are rather the result of mechanical pasting together than\na spontaneous product from the crucible of genius. For this reason\nJean Paul finds it necessary, in order continually to present new\neffects, to drag into books differing wholly in kind, botanical, legal\nand philosophical disquisitions, no less than descriptions of travel;\nwhatever whim in fact may strike his fancy at the time is promptly\ninserted. Even when his subject relates to scientific discovery he will\nrun together the most heterogeneous material such as a collection of\nBrazilian plants and observations upon the old imperial chamber[435].\nThere are people who will praise a motley of this kind as original. But\nit is really precisely the kind of caprice which originality of the\ngenuine stamp excludes.\n\nWhile we are on this topic it will not be out of place to add some\nfurther remarks upon irony, which particularly prides itself upon\npresenting us with the very flower of originality on just those\noccasions when it has ceased to treat any artistic material with\nseriousness and converts the whole affair into a subject of witticism,\nonly worth notice for the sake of the wit it suggests. Looked at from\nanother point of view this irony rakes together a lot of things which\nare quite foreign to the essence of the matter in hand, things the\ndeeper significance of which the poet keeps to himself, and his notion\nseems to be that by this subtle exercise of his powers the imagination\nwill be enlarged. And it is just in external associations of this sort\nthat we get what we have already described as the poetry of a poetry,\nwherein everything that is deepest and most excellent is concealed from\nus for no other reason than this, that we must not be allowed to look\nat it because it is so profound. And we really find in Friedrich von\nSchlegel's poetry, more particularly when he became vain over his title\nto the rank of poet, that which clearly is set forth as the aroma of\nall is just that which is never expressed: no wonder this poetry of\npoetry turns out to be the flattest prose.\n\n(_\u03b3_) A genuine work of art must consequently be held intact from all\noriginality of this perverse type. True originality will be asserted\nthroughout by this and this alone, that the work has the appearance\nof being the unique creation of _one_ individual mind, which does\nnot go about picking up scraps from around it and then make thereof\na patchwork, but permits the material of that work, in complete\naccordance with the unity most congenial to its own substance, to bind\nitself together in a whole all parts of which are strictly related,\nas truly stamped with one mint as the founder's cast. When we find\nscenes and motives introduced upon grounds that are foreign to the\nreal artistic purpose, that is to say, which do not directly grow out\nof the true subject, we must inevitably lose that subtle and necessary\nconnection of all the parts which create this unity, and what we thus\ninterpolate will unavoidably impress us as something fortuitously\nattached by personal caprice. Much in this way it has been the fashion\nto give exceptional praise to the \"G\u00f6tz von Berlichingen\" of Goethe\non the grounds of its great originality. No doubt it is true enough,\nas we have above remarked, that in this drama Goethe has with much\nintrepidity given the lie direct to and turned his back upon all that\nhad been taken as the established principles of the aesthetic science\nof his age; the execution of this work, however, does not bear the\nstamp of genuine originality. One finds, on the contrary, in this\nyouthful production indications of the poverty of the material upon\nwhich it is founded, so that many traits and entire scenes appear\nto have been raked together and united by connections foreign to\nthe subject from material of an interest contemporary with that of\nthe artist's life instead of being the genuine elaboration of the\nfundamental subject-matter. The scene, for example, between G\u00f6tz and\nbrother Martin, where Martin Luther is clearly suggested, contains\nideas which Goethe could only have borrowed from a time such as his own\nwhen people began once more to wail over the conditions of monastic\nlife, how they durst not drink wine, could only sleep off their meals,\nwere at the mercy of evil desires and generally must submit to the\nthree intolerable vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Brother\nMartin, on the other hand, grows enthusiastic over the knightly life\nof G\u00f6tz, how he recalled to memory the load of booty he took from\nhis foe, whom he ran through with lance on horseback before he could\nshoot, then tumbled over, horse and all, and finally returned to his\ncastle and wife. Whereupon the good monk drinks the health of the dame\nElizabeth, wiping his eyes the while. With mundane reflections of\nthis sort Luther never started on his journey, but rather as a pious\nmonk who had penetrated to their depths the religious conceptions\nand convictions of Augustine, another source altogether. Subject to\nprecisely similar defects are the pedagogical references to that period\nwhich occur in the following scene and for which Vasedow is mainly\nresponsible. We are informed that children of that age are taught much\nthat is unintelligible, that the true method of instruction should\nrather educate their minds through the senses and experience. Karl, for\nexample, repeats phrases to his father by heart precisely similar to\nthose current in Goethe's own younger days: \"Junthausen is a village\nand castle on the Junt and for two hundred years has been the ancestral\nproperty of the lords of Berlichingen.\" When G\u00f6tz asks him if he knows\nany lord of Berlichingen personally the lad stares blankly at him and\nthrough sheer over-teaching does not know his own father. G\u00f6tz declares\nthat he knew every path and road in the country before he knew the\nnames of a single river, village, or mountain. All this kind of thing\nis mere literary stucco which has nothing to do with the actual subject\nat all. And when an occasion does arise in which we ought to find some\nreally characteristic grip of the very marrow of the subject, as in the\nconversations between G\u00f6tz and Weisslingen, we get nothing more than\ncold reflections upon the times.\n\nWe find much the same association of irrelevant matter in the same\npoet's \"Wahlverwandschaften.\"[436] The laying out of pleasure grounds,\nthe living pictures, the observations upon pendulum oscillations, the\ntesting of metals, the headaches, the entire description of elective\naffinities, which is borrowed straight from chemical science, are all\nof this category. It may, of course, be freely admitted that in a\nromance, referring to an essentially prosaic age, such things are _prima\nfacie_ admissible, and more particularly so when we have a Goethe to\nintroduce them so cleverly and apply them so charmingly; moreover no\nwork of art of any kind can be kept wholly unaffected by the culture\nof the artist's own age. It is one thing to allow the reflection of\ncontemporary culture to appear as part of the artistic whole, quite\nanother to bring together such material of research in a way that\nplaces it as something wholly outside and independent of the genuine\nsubstance of the composition. For the true originality of the artist no\nless than that of his work consists exclusively in their being vitally\nbound up with that which is only intelligible as part of the real\nsubject-matter treated. When the artist has fully Appropriated this\nobjective reason, without mixing up with it, to the detriment of its\nclarity, details he may have borrowed from his personal experience or\nother sources which do not strictly belong to it; in that case alone\nwill he stamp the material with the genuine mark of his own artistic\nmintage. This personal effect upon his work merely serves him as a\nbridge of Life over which he passes to secure a work of art wholly\ncomplete in itself, just as in all genuine thought and action true\nfreedom consists in allowing that which is of essential significance to\nassert itself without restraint, so that it becomes itself the force\nwhich dominates both the particular thought and volition of the man\nwho thus appropriates it, and by so doing reconciles every vestige of\nopposition. In this way the originality of art absorbs every accidental\ntrait peculiar to a given personality; but it only absorbs it that the\nartist may follow without reserve the impulse and bent of his genius as\ninspired through every fibre of the material he moulds, and instead of\nreflecting a purely barren wilfulness and caprice of his own may give\nan objective form to his true artistic individuality conjoined with\nconsummate accomplishment. To have no \"manner\" was ever the one great\n\"manner,\" and in this sense alone can we ascribe originality to Homer,\nSophocles, Rafael, and Shakespeare.\n\n[Footnote 271: _Einer specifischen Seele._ We certainly should not in\nordinary speech say that inorganic objects possessed a soul. The phrase\nindeed is difficult to follow, except as explained by the previous\ntechnical discussion of _Einzelheit._]\n\n[Footnote 272: The expression _in dieser der Allgemeinheit\nentgegengehobenen \u00c4usserlichkeit_ refers to the manifold in opposition\nto which the principle of universality is posited as a test for the\nselection of those aspects which manifest it as vital individuality.]\n\n[Footnote 273: _Seligkeit._]\n\n[Footnote 274: _Heiterkeit._ I cannot satisfy myself with one English\nword. It seems to combine both _blithesomeness_ and _cheerfulness_ in\nthe literal meaning of the word.]\n\n[Footnote 275: _In das einfache Beisichseyn._ Self-containedness would\nbe more literal.]\n\n[Footnote 276: _Eine Vers\u00f6hnung des Gem\u00fcths._ I think this refers\nto the emotions of the spectators. The use of the word in the next\nsentence points to this.]\n\n[Footnote 277: _Diese Festigkeit_, _e.g._, such a religiously austere\nmode of treatment, rather this than \"rigorously true,\" is I think the\nsense.]\n\n[Footnote 278: Compare that wonderful poem of G. Meredith,\n\"Theodolinda.\"]\n\n[Footnote 279: _Sch\u00f6nthuerei._]\n\n[Footnote 280: See Introduction, pp. 86, 87.]\n\n[Footnote 281: Such appears to me the sense of the above passage, but\nit is not very clearly expressed. Hegel states the case of those who\ncontend that a picture must be a good one because the ideal element is\nthe main thing and to get that you have merely to borrow from poetry.\nHe then takes an example to show this is not so.]\n\n[Footnote 282: Here commences the more thorough exposition of the\ndifficulty.]\n\n[Footnote 283: _Vorstellung_, \"world of ideas\" would be perhaps better.]\n\n[Footnote 284: Apart from an error in punctuation I think this sentence\nis not as Hegel wrote it, certainly it is not as he would have left\nit after revision; as it stands the grammatical construction is\nentirely split into two discordant sections. I have at least made it\ngrammatical.]\n\n[Footnote 285: _Die Vorstellung_, _i.e._, the imaginative conception.]\n\n[Footnote 286: There is, however, the question of positive\ncharacterization imposed on the work by the artist. The work of\nMichelangelo is of course an extreme example. This is here rather\noverlooked.]\n\n[Footnote 287: That is to say, it remains the potency of many forms; it\nis left in its abstract formality to be variously formed by limbs in\ntheir motion and not cut into the forms devised by a tailor.]\n\n[Footnote 288: Infinite, of course, not in the sense of extension,\nbut because it is a constituent of the universal medium of thought,\ninfinite as the judgment is so.]\n\n[Footnote 289: This analysis of Dutch painting is remarkable for its\ninsight and impartiality, and may be contrasted in this respect with\nthe writings of Ruskin.]\n\n[Footnote 290: _Die h\u00f6here Seele._ The ideal atmosphere throughout.]\n\n[Footnote 291: It will be recalled that it was precisely this picture,\nor one much resembling, that Ruskin, with less sympathy, criticized\nseverely.]\n\n[Footnote 292: No doubt these were other pictures in the exhibition of\npictures contemporary with the date of Hegel's lecture.]\n\n[Footnote 293: Ideal.]\n\n[Footnote 294: _Auf willk\u00fcrlich festgesetzten Zeichen_.]\n\n[Footnote 295: Not a very lucid sentence. I presume the words _bei\nderen Anblick_ refer, to the forms, not to the beauty which reposes on\nthem. The abstractness of such a point of view is obvious.]\n\n[Footnote 296: I think _sein eigenes Wollen_ must practically amount to\nthis. But it is all very vague.]\n\n[Footnote 297: _Handlung._ See below.]\n\n[Footnote 298: _Vollbringen des Menschen._ The bringing up to fuller\ncontent.]\n\n[Footnote 299: Lit., \"turned outside upon to confront, like a coat\nturned inside out that the inside may face external facts.\"]\n\n[Footnote 300: The German term is _Selbst\u00e4ndigkeit._ It may often be\nbetter translated by \"independence.\"]\n\n[Footnote 301: _Durchgreifende._ That which penetrates the whole as the\n_causa efficiens._ The whole passage is difficult and technical.]\n\n[Footnote 302: _F\u00fcr sich selbst._ That is to say, a substance that is\nnot dependent on another for its reality but is explicit as such out of\nits own resources.]\n\n[Footnote 303: _F\u00fcr das Allgemeine_.]\n\n[Footnote 304: _In einer Nacht._ A condensed description of the true\nstory apparently.]\n\n[Footnote 305: That is to say, it is made up of units all ready to pull\nin different directions.]\n\n[Footnote 306: A remarkable instance of the type in our own days was\nGeneral Gordon. A perusal of his correspondence from Khartoum makes it\nsufficiently clear that he considered it his duty to remain despite all\norders to the contrary, so long as the garrison remained unwithdrawn;\nno doubt he considered the reverse course dishonourable to England, but\nfirst of all it was dishonourable to himself.]\n\n[Footnote 307: _F\u00fcrsicheinsiehen._]\n\n[Footnote 308: _Das Vornehme._ There is probably here a further\nallusion to the respectability associated with grandeur. The same is\ntrue of the compositions of the great Italian painters.]\n\n[Footnote 309: _Ausgebildeten._ I have hesitated to translate this\n\"cultivated\" as the context appears to suggest rather the kind of\n_regime_ we find in the highly official centralization of such\na monarchy as that of Prussia in Hegel's time or the artificial\neighteenth century. But the whole passage rings rather strangely to\nmodern ideas, or at least to English notions of democracy.]\n\n[Footnote 310: _G\u00f6tz von Berlichengen_ was Goethe's first drama,\npublished in the year 1773, though the first version of it was written\nin 1771.]\n\n[Footnote 311: _Das Waltende_, _e.g._, a force which is predominant.]\n\n[Footnote 312: _Gehalt_, content, that is, in its configurative energy.]\n\n[Footnote 313: _Sichverwirklichen_, that is, objective\nself-realization.]\n\n[Footnote 314: The whole of this passage is difficult to follow and\ntranslate, and has roots, no doubt, in some of the most disputed\npositions in Hegelian philosophy, such as the independent reality of\nNature, and the use that Hegel makes of such conceptions as Chance\n(_Zuf\u00e4lligkeit_) in his explanation of it. All that can be attempted\nhere is to give some kind of intelligible interpretation of the\nexpressions employed literally. The student will do well to consult\nProfessor A. C. Bradley's criticism of Hegel's Idea of tragedy in his\n\"Lectures on Poetry.\"]\n\n[Footnote 315: The situation without defined situation.]\n\n[Footnote 316: _Festigkeit._ Staunchness is perhaps better.]\n\n[Footnote 317: _Harmlosigkeit_, _e.g._, its inability to cause\nconflict.]\n\n[Footnote 318: Such as painting and sculpture.]\n\n[Footnote 319: By positive he means that in themselves they are not\nactually discordant or negative but only render such discordance\npossible in their relation to spirit.]\n\n[Footnote 320: That is, where a collision depends upon natural causes.]\n\n[Footnote 321: Positive, that is, relative to a particular concrete\ncondition.]\n\n[Footnote 322: Perhaps _Erfindung_ would here be better translated with\n\"invention.\" Both processes are involved in the word.]\n\n[Footnote 323: _Auf den nat\u00fcrlichen \u00e4usserlichen Verlauf._]\n\n[Footnote 324: This must be implied, for it can only be asserted with\nqualification of sculpture and it is not true of music.]\n\n[Footnote 325: _In betreff seiner Besinnung._ _Besinnung_ suggests, no\ndoubt, something more of mind than _Gem\u00fcth._ It is the entire content\nof self-consciousness on its sensuous side.]\n\n[Footnote 326: _Die allgemeinen M\u00e4chte._ This phrase is explained in\nthe paragraph which follows.]\n\n[Footnote 327: _Die Beth\u00e4tigung._ The actualization would be a better\nword perhaps.]\n\n[Footnote 328: It may surprise some readers in such a context suddenly\nto be confronted with such serious matters. But with Hegel such\nsurprises must be expected. With him the root of all spiritual activity\nis never far absent, and the relation of the State is founded on the\nsame basis as that of the Church. And if we mean anything by the phrase\nof the Divine Immanence we shall at least be able to follow him.]\n\n[Footnote 329: _Die ewigen._ Eternal because essentially belonging to\nthe explication of reason.]\n\n[Footnote 330: _W\u00fcrde._ Worthiness of personal characteristics, _i.e._,\nethical character.]\n\n[Footnote 331: _Das nur \u00e4userlich Feststehende_. The organizations of\nSpirit are the most permanent realities is, I think, the meaning.]\n\n[Footnote 332: _Etwas bizarres oder widriges_, _i.e._, that which\nis arbitrary and merely awakes curiosity or excites a feeling of\nrepulsion.]\n\n[Footnote 333: There is obviously a symbolic meaning in this poem of\nHartmann which Hegel appears to have overlooked, the sacrifice which\nthe monks prescribed not necessarily involving a physical sacrifice,\nbut merely the gift of a love which would be equal to such a sacrifice.]\n\n[Footnote 334: This passage is not easy to follow. I think _der innre\nBegriff_ must mean the entire notion of the personality evolved in\nthe action as distinct from all particular aspects which are negative\nand evil. The main difficulty of the passage consists in the abstract\nconception of evil or the negative upon which Hegel centres the\nattention.]\n\n[Footnote 335: _Halt_, _i.e._, stable self-consistency.]\n\n[Footnote 336: _Die innre haltlose Zerrissenkeit._]\n\n[Footnote 337: _Abgeschlossenheit_, _i.e._, self-exclusive\nindividuality.]\n\n[Footnote 338: _Zur subjektiven Innerlichkeit._ That is to say, the\nentire self-concentration on the spiritual centre of conscious life.]\n\n[Footnote 339: Lit., Their individuality remains rather external form,\nin such a way that it fails to penetrate through to absolutely inward\nsubjectivity.]\n\n[Footnote 340: _Noth_, the constraint of necessary conditions.]\n\n[Footnote 341: _Mit der Bestimmten_, _i.e._, with the definite\nsubject-matter of temporal life.]\n\n[Footnote 342: In the conception, that is to say, which is at the root\nof the Greek idea of Divinity.]\n\n[Footnote 343: I presume what Hegel means is as individual gods.]\n\n[Footnote 344: _Er nicht mit seinem eigenen Selbst dabei ist._ He fails\nto obtain the determinate freedom of the self-excluding subject.]\n\n[Footnote 345: _I.e._, between gods and men.]\n\n[Footnote 346: _Ganz prosaisch._ Viewed practically, that is to say,\nrather than metaphysically. The examples explain the meaning.]\n\n[Footnote 347: _Das Thun geht stets her\u00fcber und hin\u00fcber._ Is a skein in\nwhich the threads run over and under one another.]\n\n[Footnote 348: \"_Iliad_,\" I, v, 190.]\n\n[Footnote 349: This view may be well contrasted with the less vital\ncriticism of Schiller on this subject, which induced him actually to\nexclude the feature from his amended edition of the play. In fact Hegel\nshows more insight here than Coleridge.]\n\n[Footnote 350: _Nicht \u00fcber Hamlet haltlos verf\u00fcgt._ It is also obvious,\nI think, that such a passage need not necessarily be opposed to\nGoethe's main conception. Such ideas may readily be explained as the\nexcuses of a man who inherently shrinks from forming a grave resolve of\nvigorous action. No doubts are suggested when Hamlet sees the ghost.]\n\n[Footnote 351: _Den eigentlichen Mittelpunkt._ Between what? I think\nthe examples show that it is both between a work of human art and\nNature and between the work of art itself and those to whom it is\naddressed.]\n\n[Footnote 352: Lit., Screws itself like a corkscrew into.]\n\n[Footnote 353: _Ausmalung_. The metaphor is taken from the art of\npainting and technically refers to the finish of the same in all its\ndetails. It is here used generally.]\n\n[Footnote 354: Vol. i, p. 153. I do not know the book.]\n\n[Footnote 355: _Als bewegendes Pathos._ This may mean \"as the motive\nprinciple of pathos,\" but I incline to the interpretation \"as the\npathos which affects others.\"]\n\n[Footnote 356: This appears at first sight to be somewhat contrary to\nthe statement made above (p. 309) that \"We cannot affirm pathos of\nthe gods.\" But if my translation in the above passage is the right\none _Die G\u00f6tter werden zum menschlichen Pathos_, I think we must\nunderstand _Die G\u00f6tter_ here in a more universal sense of the Divine\nthan in the former passage, and find the emphasis here is laid upon the\nword _menschlichen._ It is, in fact, but another way of stating the\nincarnation of the Divine in humanity.]\n\n[Footnote 357: _Als totale Individualit\u00e4t_, _i.e._, all that is\ncomprised in its essential notion.]\n\n[Footnote 358: _Der handelnden Character_, _i.e._, Character manifest\nin the action.]\n\n[Footnote 359: _Ausser sich_, \"goes to the dogs,\" as we say in vulgar\nparlance, _i.e._, ceases to be character in the true sense at all.]\n\n[Footnote 360: This example shows us that by the expression _fr\u00fcheren\nG\u00f6tter_ above Hegel must be referring to prehistoric times and quite\narchaic conceptions of Greek godhead.]\n\n[Footnote 361: _Eines in sick gebildeten Innern. Gebildet_ here used in\nthe sense of perfected, rounded to a co-ordinated content.]\n\n[Footnote 362: _Hineingegraben_, lit., buried in.]\n\n[Footnote 363: I am unable to express in two words the contrast\npresented by the German _tragen_ and _ertragen._]\n\n[Footnote 364: It is not easy to strike the exact interpretation of\nsuch a word as _Quetschlichkeit._ Apparently this or the more usual\nterm _Quabbelig_ have the sense of \"shaking.\" I believe there is a\nsynonym for quaker's grass, viz., quatch-grass.]\n\n[Footnote 365: _Und durch sie sich hindurchziehen._ The most obvious\nsense of these words would be: and (_i.e._, the threads) carry\nthemselves on through it (_i.e._, externality). Perhaps the meaning is\nthat the relations in question not merely unite the Ideal to the world\nbut are carried beyond (with the Ideal) the natural external world into\nthat higher plane of the objective spiritual world. In my translation\nI have practically evaded the difficulty and assumed there is either\nsomething missing, or we must understand, I admit, a very harsh change\nof subject.]\n\n[Footnote 366: Through self-consciousness he is both the individual\nsubject and the form of an infinite content.]\n\n[Footnote 367: _Eine subjektive Totalit\u00e4t._]\n\n[Footnote 368: I have amplified this sentence to make it quite clear\nto which of the three worlds, viz., (_a_) the subjective world in its\nabstraction, (_b_) the external world in its abstraction or, finally,\nthe world of reality, in which _a_ and _b_ are mutually related, the\nwriter here refers.]\n\n[Footnote 369: _In welche die in sick totale Einheit des Ideals nicht\nmehr ihrer konkreten Geistigkeit nach hineinzuscheinen bef\u00e4higt ist._\nLit., Into which the self-complete unity of the Ideal is no longer\ncapable of penetrating by virtue of the concrete spirituality which it\nessentially is.]\n\n[Footnote 370: An obvious distinction between the arts of architecture\nand garden-construction is that in the former all the materials used\nhave been already informed by human hands at least where building is in\nany advanced stage.]\n\n[Footnote 371: Hegel's actual words would seem to imply that the fact a\ngarden is created for use and enjoyment is detrimental to its beauty.]\n\n[Footnote 372: It must be admitted that this summary treatment of\ngardens is not very satisfactory. No doubt the best authorities concur\nin the view that the formal garden is more artistic than the landscape,\nbut hardly on the main ground given here. Landscape gardening such as\nwe find it in our great English country houses has a real justification\nof its own. And with regard to the reason given that a garden should be\nentirely subordinate to the human object do we not strike here upon a\nweakness which is to a certain extent apparent also in Hegel's theory\nof the artistic purpose of architecture. I think it must be admitted\nthat though it is true the object of both these arts is not entirely\nfor their own beauty, and in certain cases, not even primarily so,\nas in the case of a senate-house or ordinary garden, yet where the\nartistic purpose is manifested throughout with great deliberation they\nmay be essentially an independent work of art; take the case,.of a\ncathedral, for example, or a really beautiful and homogeneous formal\ngarden.]\n\n[Footnote 373: _Element_, subject-matter would be really a better word.]\n\n[Footnote 374: _Kein bloss quantatives._ They are not like a heap of\nstones, for example, but they possess relations which qualify each\nother, as of course the heap of stones will do in so far as it is\ndistinguished by diversity of colour.]\n\n[Footnote 375: I think this must be the meaning of the words _noch ah\nblass aufgel\u00f6ste Gegens\u00e4tze auftreten._]\n\n[Footnote 376: _Grau_ is the word Hegel uses, but I think he must\nuse it in the sense I have translated it. Gray in itself is a very\nbeautiful compound, and the subtlety of its use is that which is one of\nthe distinguishing characteristics of the very greatest colourists such\nas Turner and Velazquez.]\n\n[Footnote 377: I am not quite sure that Hegel means this exactly, but\nit is no doubt what an artist would mean and in water-colour especially\nit is of the utmost importance. Compare the flesh colour of the artists\nsuch as our Watts or Titian with that of Leighton. One of the most\nmarvellous examples I know is a small picture of Titian, the subject\nof which is Herodias with the head of John the Baptist, in one of the\npalaces at Rome. But a modern critic would, apart from the question of\ndirtiness, about which there can be no doubt, say that Hegel insists\ntoo much, precisely as Ruskin does, on the superiority of the pure\nsingle colour.]\n\n[Footnote 378: Hegel appears to be himself slightly incorrect here.\nNo doubt a string may ring false if it is not tightly fastened or if\ntoo slack or too long it may produce sounds the human ear is unable\nto appreciate. But primarily what musicians mean by a string ringing\nfalse, with wolf notes and so on, is due to the bad material or false\ncomposition of the string itself.]\n\n[Footnote 379: _Disparat_, _i.e._, composed of different elements, not\nmerely separate in position.]\n\n[Footnote 380: I think the expression _ein blosses an-sich_ must mean\nthis here. Of course the usual meaning is that of something potential,\nunrealized, but here I think it rather signifies \"not objectively or\nreally valid.\" No doubt in relation to the heads of discussion it is\npotential also.]\n\n[Footnote 381: _Die traurige B\u00fcnkels\u00e4ngerei._ I think the adjective\nmust here rather refer to the contrast than to the nature of the\npoetry. I presume the Minnesingers are referred to.]\n\n[Footnote 382: I do not know what book this is, nor have I ever heard\nof a hero with the name of _Otnith._]\n\n[Footnote 383: Or rather by virtue both of its medium and object.\n_Ihrer Natur nach_ are Hegel's words.]\n\n[Footnote 384: _Jenem ersten Ansichseyenden._ That is to say, a\nrelation indefinite, but essentially implying a further realization.]\n\n[Footnote 385: _Es nur eine unwahre Abstraction bezeigen w\u00fcrde._ \"Lack\nof comprehensiveness\" would, of course, be more literal.]\n\n[Footnote 386: _In ihrem abstracten Gehalt._ That is, regarded simply\nas the opinions of a private individual, and apart from all that may be\nimplied in it under more universal relations.]\n\n[Footnote 387: _Der Zustand der allgemeinen Bildung_, not an easy\nphrase to translate: the \"Culture-State\" perhaps sums it up most\ncompletely. \"The state of universal education\" is too indefinite or\ngoes too far.]\n\n[Footnote 388: The whole spirit of this passage is a striking witness\nto Hegel's admiration for classical art. Whether the arguments brought\nforward are wholly sound when we consider them in connection with the\nElizabethan drama, for example, may readily admit of a question. At\nthe same time, as Hegel himself points out, Shakespeare unquestionably\nthrows the time back to what is practically a mythical age in at least\nthree of his greatest tragedies, \"Hamlet,\" \"Macbeth,\" and above all\n\"King Lear.\"]\n\n[Footnote 389: For the element of beauty implied in ordinary\ncraftsmanship, and the modern view, pressed so strongly by William\nMorris and others, of this aspect of art and its modern necessity, the\nreader should peruse Professor Bosanquet's valuable \"Three Lectures on\nAesthetic\" (see particularly Lecture II, p. 61 _et seq._).]\n\n[Footnote 390: Even an admirer of our author must admit, I think, here\nthat the argument is somewhat overstrained. That Hegel possessed real\nhumour and yet more irony few will deny who have studied him, but at\ntimes \"the man with a theory\" rather tends, as is so frequently the\ncase with our German cousins, Goethe himself not excepted, to swallow\nup such sanative juices altogether.]\n\n[Footnote 391: I presume the meaning is that the poem in the shape we\nnow have it dates some 400 years after the Trojan war. But it is not\nvery clear from Hegel's language whether he regards Homer as the poet\nwho, as in the case of his example of the poet of the Niebelungenlied,\nfused that together or no. For if he did how could he have lived\nthrough the poems, an expression itself which is rather vague, more\nparticularly as the better opinion is that they represent a different\nage themselves.]\n\n[Footnote 392: _Vern\u00fcrnbergert._ A word of course coined by Hegel. Made\nthem, that is to say, at home in the Nuremberg of Hans Sachs.]\n\n[Footnote 393: \"Best of all things water.\" Compare Meredith's exquisite\npoem \"Phoebus with Admetus,\" \"Water, first of singers o'er rocky mount\nand mead,\" etc., stanza 3.]\n\n[Footnote 394: The drama of Racine.]\n\n[Footnote 395: What this word means I do not know--possibly\nquill-feathers.]\n\n[Footnote 396: _Eine grosse Genialit\u00e4t._ \"First-rate genius\" is rather\ntoo strong, \"talents of the highest rank\" would be more literal. We\nhave no word that expresses _Genialit\u00e4t._ As the passage is ironical I\nhave allowed \"genius\" to pass.]\n\n[Footnote 397: _Wir haben schlecht gestanden._ Literally, \"there is\nsome mistake between us.\" But the idiomatic sense I presume is, \"You've\nmade a bad shot this time.\"]\n\n[Footnote 398: What would Hegel have said of the first scene in the\n\"Merchant of Venice\"? No doubt Shakespeare's play contains very much\nmore than such scenes, and there is a profound significance in that\nopening scene, for it at once emphasizes the collision of families upon\nwhich the entire tragedy turns. But is such a defence needed? There\nappears to be indubitably a certain deficiency in the above criticism.\nThere is no reason that a scene in which a couple of peasants and two\ntroopers are the _dramatis personae_ should not be infinitely amusing\nprovided a Shakespeare, or even a Goethe, when he is not in one of his\ndull moods, performs the office of teaching them how to speak.]\n\n[Footnote 399: This surely goes too far unless \"interest\" is taken\nstrictly to mean artistic interest which would appear to be so from\nthe context. Everything that has once interested or affected mankind,\nhowever remote, has at heart an historical and antiquarian interest,\nand I am not sure that we should not be right in adding a general human\ninterest. At least such is almost a dogma with a poet of the type of\nBrowning.]\n\n[Footnote 400: I do not know the Teutonic poem here referred to. But\nwhat about Wagner's famous tetralogy? The above arguments, though\ncontaining much that is true, appear to overlook for one thing the\nsymbolic significance of mythological history, and in a certain\nsense to be lacking in sympathy for everything that is not modern or\nHellenic. How very differently Carlyle, for example, referred to this\nvery mythology, and his learning was not profound in the German sense.]\n\n[Footnote 401: The intention of Aeschylus went, of course, much\nfarther than this, and the entire play is essentially one written by a\nstaunch conservative against modern innovation.]\n\n[Footnote 402: It is strange that Hegel should have ventured such a\ngeneralization in the face of his old friend Holderlein's poetry.\nIn England some fine poems have been written such as Lady Margaret\nSackville's hymn to Dionysus and Swinburne's to Proserpine. But for\na good essay in support of the main contention I know none equal to\nRussell Lowell's Essay on Swinburne's \"Atalanta.\" I think that both\nour author and the critic who supports him somewhat fail to recognize\nthe permanent reality, whether symbolical or directly spiritual, that\nan increasing number of men find in these Hellenic personalities, as\nillustrated in the poetry of Meredith, to take the finest flavour of\nthe type.]\n\n[Footnote 403: I presume this is the meaning of _unserer eigenen\nGeliebten_, but from the example given of Petrarch's Laura one would\nrather have expected that it was the poet's beloved whose name was not\ngiven. In any case the sense is rather obscure.]\n\n[Footnote 404: I think it must be admitted that Hegel goes too far\nin the other extreme. The best tendency of our times is to reproduce\nShakespeare as near to the best authenticated text as possible.\nNo doubt our adaptation of French plays is in a certain sense an\nillustration of Hegel's contention; but generally it is recognized that\nwhere a work is great, as for example in the case of our Greek plays,\nit is far better to let them speak for themselves, and attempt no\nbotching.]\n\n[Footnote 405: Schiller's play.]\n\n[Footnote 406: _Schiefheiten_, errors that divert truth from its path.]\n\n[Footnote 407: We should rather have expected _Erhalt_ than _Gehalt_\nhere. _Gehalt_ means, therefore, the essential part of the entire\nmanifestation.]\n\n[Footnote 408: _Durch all das anderweitige Getriebe_, _i.e._, through\nall that is otherwise mechanical.]\n\n[Footnote 409: I am not certain whether there is a definite allusion\nhere to anything in particular, or whether the Egyptian is taken\nto signify any folk outside Western culture, with possibly some\nsubtle suggestion of those who held the favoured people in bondage,\nPhilistines in short.]\n\n[Footnote 410: _Herausgeboren ist_, cast forth, that is to say, as the\nnatural growth of it--as Minerva from the head of Zeus.]\n\n[Footnote 411: Imagination appears to me the best translation of\n_Phantasie._ Our English word, however, seems rather to lie between\nit and _Vorstellung_. Practically Hegel means here what we mean when\nwe distinguish it from fancy (_Einbildungskraft_), though in Ruskin's\noriginal and most suggestive analysis of the terms, \"fancy\" of course\nimplied a limited power of creative activity or at least associative\nactivity.]\n\n[Footnote 412: _Leichtfertigkeit der Phantasie_, _i.e._, a careless\nfacility of imaginative activity.]\n\n[Footnote 413: It must not be overlooked, however, that, especially\nin the arts of music and painting, genius may have reached maturity\nat a very early period, as was the case with Mozart, Rafael, and many\nanother.]\n\n[Footnote 414: _Ganz vereinzelten Seite._ It is a little strange to\nfind such an expression applied to the arts of violin-playing or\nsinging. But the emphasis is not so much on the art as a whole as to\nthe technical aspect of execution.]\n\n[Footnote 415: _Anlage_, lit., a laying to, an impulse in a certain\ndirection.]\n\n[Footnote 416: This statement is rather surprising from a fellow\ncountryman of Bach, Handel, Mozart, etc., down to Wagner and Strauss.\nThe explanation appears _first_ to be due to the distinction between\na national impulse toward popular singing which the Italian no doubt\npossesses, and a deep-rooted emotional life which finally discovers\nits supreme mode of expression in the art of instrumental music as\ndeveloped by the Teuton stock. _Secondly_, it is quite clear, I think,\nfrom Hegel's correspondence that he had no real sympathy for orchestral\nmusic though an enthusiastic admirer of opera, particularly Italian\nopera.]\n\n[Footnote 417: The other two aspects were: (_a_) That genius is a\nspiritual activity and in its operation offers a contrast to talent,\nwhere the personal initiative is not so prominent, (_b_) It has a\ncertain aspect which may be called innate.]\n\n[Footnote 418: It is a little surprising to find Hegel tracing\ntechnical accomplishment to the native gift. At least all technical\naccomplishment has to be learned.]\n\n[Footnote 419: This is the real point. Whatever ignoramuses may say of\nthe \"shackles\" of verse poets know only too well that they supply a\nsupreme stimulus to imaginative powers both in virtue of the atmosphere\nof music into which they are thus carried and the suggestiveness of\nthe words themselves. What Hegel's analysis appears rather to fail in\nis his perception of the unconscious work in the greatest men when\nworking in most inspired moments whether in painting or poetry--the\nextraordinary power of their intuition.]\n\n[Footnote 420: No doubt Hegel does not use our word \"inspiration\" in\nquite the sense it is usually used, and I should have said even less\nso the German word. At the same time we do apply the word inspiration\nto the technical execution and most justly where it is used as a\ndistinction.]\n\n[Footnote 421: Meredith in a letter to a correspondent expresses the\nsame conviction. He even adds that he thinks Schiller's compositions\nwere by no means improved by artificial stimulants.]\n\n[Footnote 422: The Germans say, a song which \"rings straight from the\nthroat,\" _der aus der Kehle dringt._]\n\n[Footnote 423: _Welche zum Begriff des Talente geh\u00f6rt._ Talent no\ndoubt to some extent includes genius here, but mainly in its aspect of\nproductive power.]\n\n[Footnote 424: I do not know the composition and cannot make much\nof the quotations. For all I know _Tamboure-gesellen_ may be the\ndrummer-boy himself.]\n\n[Footnote 425: This translation may pass perhaps:\n\n    \"This little nosegay plucked by me\n     A thousand times may it greet thee!\n     How many thousand times have I\n     Bowed over it; how many times\n     Pressed it to heart; how many times!\"\n\n[Footnote 426: Or, as Hegel puts it, \"_that_ he is not.\"]\n\n[Footnote 427: We should rather say a personal or individual manner\nperhaps.]\n\n[Footnote 428: I have translated _Zuf\u00e4lligen_ here with the words \"he\nshares with no one else.\" The suggestion is that there is no warrant or\nprinciple to support them.]\n\n[Footnote 429: It is rather surprising to find Hegel including music\nhere rather than sculpture or architecture, especially the latter,\nwhich seems peculiarly adapted to illustrate what I understand to be\nhis general point of view. His own illustrations throw no light on the\nmatter as they are borrowed from painting or poetry.]\n\n[Footnote 430: I presume the difference here alluded to is such as we\nmay see if we contrast the tone of a Correggio, for instance, with that\nof a Titian or a Rembrandt.]\n\n[Footnote 431: _Er hat ihn sich angeeignet._ Lack of artistic power is\nthe main factor in an artificial style. Though there are doubtless many\nexamples of men forced to paint in a way much below their true powers\nto obtain a living. But it must be admitted Hegel does not express\nhimself very clearly. Individuality of handling is essential to a great\nmaster. The real point is that it should not crystallize into a _mere_\nhabit, as in the Bologna school of painters.]\n\n[Footnote 432: \"Artificial\" would perhaps come closer to the mark.]\n\n[Footnote 433: _In sich selbst zu erweitern._ The phrase at once\nsuggests by contrast that expression so frequently used by painters\nof \"tightness,\" incapacity to enlarge, which is such a characteristic\nof artificial handling, and indeed of most academic work, and so\nfrequently gives to the original sketch of an artist a greater artistic\nvalue than to the highly finished work.]\n\n[Footnote 434: _In der subjektiven Begeistrung._]\n\n[Footnote 435: The chamber at Wetzlar.]\n\n[Footnote 436: Elective Affinities.]\n\n\nEND OF VOL. I","title":"The Philosophy of Fine Art, volume 1 (of 4): Hegel's Aesthetik","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":166077}