{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_55445/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_55445","id":"gutenberg_55445","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55445","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 II\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS OF VOL. II\n\nSECOND PART\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n[Evolution of the Ideal in the Particular Types of Fine Art,\nnamely, the Symbolic, the Classical, and the Romantic.\nSymbolic Art seeks after that unity of ideal significance\nand external form, which Classical art in its representation\nof substantive individuality succeeds in securing to\nsensuous perception, and which Romantic art passes\nbeyond, owing to its excessive insistence on the claims\nof Spirit]\n\n\nSUBSECTION I\n\nTHE SYMBOLIC TYPE OF ART\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nOF THE SYMBOL GENERALLY\n\n[1. Symbol as a sign simply in language, colours, etc. 8\n\n2.  Not a mere sign to represent something else, but a\nsignificant fact which presents the idea or quality it\nsymbolizes 9\n\n3.  Thing symbolized must have other qualities than that\naccepted as symbol. Term symbol necessarily open\nto ambiguity 10\n\n(_a_) Ambiguity in particular case whether the concrete\nfact _is_ set before us as a symbol. Difference between\na symbol and a simile. Illustrations 10\n\n(_b_) Ambiguity extends to-entire worlds of Art, _e.g_,\nOriental art. Two theories with regard to mythos\ndiscussed and contrasted 14\n\n(_c_) The problems of mythology in the present treatise\nlimited to the question, \"How far symbolism is\nentitled to rank as a form of Art?\" Will only\nconsider symbol in so far as it belongs to Art in its\nown right and itself proceeds from the notion of\nthe Ideal, the unfolding of which it commences] 19\n\nDIVISION OF SUBJECT\n\n[1. The artistic consciousness originates in wonder. The\neffects that result from such a state. Art the first interpreter\nof the religious consciousness. Conceptions\nenvisaged in plastic forms of natural objects 23\n\n2. The final aim of symbolic art is classical art. Here it\nis dissolved. The Sublime lies between the two extremes 26\n\n3. The stages of symbolical art classified according to\ntheir subdivisions in the chapters of this. Second Part\nof the entire treatise] 29\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nUNCONSCIOUS SYMBOLISM\n\nA.  Unity of Significance and Form in its immediacy 36\n\n1.  The religion of Zoroaster 37\n\n2.  No true symbolical significance in the above 42\n\n3.  Equally destitute of an artistic character 44\n\nB.  Fantastic Symbolism 47\n\n1.  The Hindoo conception of Brahm\u00e2 50\n\n2.  Sensuousness, measurelessness, and personifying\nactivity of Hindoo imagination 51\n\n3.  Conception of purification and penance 64\n\nC.  Genuine Symbolism 65\n\n1.  Nature no longer accepted in its immediate sensuous\nexistence as adequate to the significance. Art\nand general outlook of ancient Egypt 75\n\n[(_a_) The inward import held independent of immediate\nexistence in the embalmed corpse 76\n\n(_b_) Doctrine of immortality of the soul as held by\nEgyptians 76\n\n(_c_) Superterranean and subterranean modes of\nEgyptian art. The Pyramids] 77\n\n2.  Worship of animals, as the vision of a secreted soul.\nSymbolical and non-symbolical aspects of this cult 78\n\n3.  Works of Egyptian art are objective riddles. The\nSphinx symbolic of the genius of Egypt. Memnons,\nIsis, and Osiris 79\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE SYMBOLISM OF THE SUBLIME\n\nA.  Pantheism of Art 89\n\n1.  Hindoo poetry 90\n\n2.  Persian and Mohammedan poetry. Modern reflections\nof such poetry as in Goethe 92\n\n3.  Christian Mysticism 97\n\nB.  The Art of the Sublime 97\n\n1.  God as Creator and Lord of a subject World. He\nis Creator, not Generator. His Dwelling not in\nNature 100\n\n2.  Nature and the human form cut off from the Divine\n(_entg\u00f6ttert_) 101\n\n3. Nullity of objective fact a source of the enhanced\nself-respect of man. Man's finiteness and immeasurable\ntranscendency of God. No place for\nimmortality. The Law 103\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE CONSCIOUS SYMBOLISM OF THE COMPARATIVE TYPE OF ART\n\nA.  Modes of Comparison originating from the side of externality 110\n\n1.  The Fable. Aesop 113\n\n2.  The Parable, Proverb, and Apologue 122\n\n3.  The Metamorphosis 125\n\nB.  Comparisons, which in their imaginative presentation\noriginate in the Significance 128\n\n1.  The Riddle 130\n\n2.  The Allegory 132\n\n3.  The Metaphor, Image, and Simile 137\n\nC.  The Disappearance of the Symbolic Type of Art 161\n\n1.  The Didactic Poem 163\n\n2.  Descriptive Poetry 165\n\n3.  Relation of both aspects of internal feeling and external\nobject in the ancient Epigram 165\n\n\nSUBSECTION II\n\nTHE CLASSICAL TYPE OF ART\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nTHE CLASSICAL TYPE IN GENERAL\n\n1.  Self-subsistency of the Classical type viewed as the\ninterfusion of the spiritual and its natural form 175\n\n[(_a_) No return of the ideal principle upon itself. No\nseparation of opposed aspects of inward and external 175\n\n(_b_)  Symbolism absent from this type except incidentally 176\n\n(_c_) Reproach of anthropomorphism] 179\n\n2.  Greek art as the realized existence of the classical type 181\n\n3.  Position of the creative artist under such a type 183\n\n[(_a_) His freedom no result of a restless process of fermentation.\nReceives his material as something\nassured in history or belief 183\n\n(_b_) His plastic purpose is clearly defined 184\n\n(_c_) High level  of technical ability 185\n\nClassification of subject-matter] 186\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE FORMATIVE PROCESS OF THE CLASSICAL TYPE OF ART\n\nIntroduction and Division of subject 189\n\n1. The Degradation of Animalism as such 191\n\n(_a_) The sacrifice of animals. How regarded by the\nGreeks 192\n\n(_b_)  The Chase, or examples of such in heroic times 194\n\n(_c_)  Tales of metamorphosis. Illustrations both from\nGreek and Egyptian traditions 194\n\n2. The Contest between the older and later Dynasties of\nGods 201\n\n(_a_)  The oracles whereby the gods attest their presence\nthrough natural existences 205\n\n(_b_)  The ancient gods in contradistinction from the\nnew 208\n\n[(_\u03b1_) The Titan natural potences included among the\nolder r\u00e9gime 208\n\n(_\u03b2_) They are the powers of Earth and the stars 208\nwithout spiritual or ethical content. Prometheus.\nThe Erinnyes 209\n\n(_\u03b3_) The order of these gods  is a succession] 215\n\n(_c_) The conquest of the older r\u00e9gime of gods 217\n\n3. The Positive Conservation of the conditions set up by\nNegation 220\n\n(_a_) The Mysteries 220\n\n(_b_) Preservation of old r\u00e9gime still more obvious in artistic\ncreations.  Illustrations from  Greek poetry 221\n\n(_c_) The Nature-basis of the later gods. Nature not in\nitself divine to the Greek. Illustrations of both\npoints of view 223\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE IDEAL OF THE CLASSICAL TYPE OF ART\n\nIntroduction and Division of subject-matter 229\n\n1.  The Ideal of Classical Art generally 230\n\n(_a_)  The Classical Ideal is a creation of free artistic\nactivity, though it reposes on earlier historical\nelements 230\n\n[(_\u03b1_) The Greek gods are neither the appearance of\nmere external Nature, nor the abstraction from\none Godhead 232\n\n(_\u03b2_) The Greek artist is a poet. But his productive\npower is concretely spiritual, not merely capricious 233\n\n(_\u03b3_) The relation of the Greek gods to human life.\nIllustrations from Homer, etc.] 233\n\n(_b_)  What is the type of the new gods of Greek art? 235\n\n[(_\u03b1_) Their concentrated individuality, or substantive\ncharacterization 236\n\n(_\u03b2_) Their beauty not merely spiritual, but also plastic 237\n\n(_\u03b3_) Removal of them from all that is purely finite\ninto a sphere of lofty blessedness exalted above\nmere sensuous shape] 238\n\n(_c_) The nature of the external representation. Sculpture,\nin its secure self-possession, most suited as\nthe medium 241\n\n2.  The Sphere or Cycle of the Individual Gods 242\n\n(_a_)  What is called the \"divine Universum\" is here\nbroken up into particular deities 242\n\n(_b_)  Absence of an articulate system 243\n\n(_c_) The general character of their distinguishing attributes 244\n\n3. The particular Individuality of the Gods 246\n\n(_a_)  The appropriate material for such individualization\n\n[(_\u03b1_) The natural religions of symbolism a primary\nsource. Illustrations 247\n\n(_\u03b2_) That of local conditions 250\n\n(_\u03b3_) That of the world of concrete fact. Illustrations\nfrom Homer, etc.] 254\n\n(_b_) Retention of a fundamental ethical basis 258\n\n(_c_) Advance in the direction of grace and charm 259\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE DISSOLUTION OF THE CLASSICAL TYPE\n\n1.  Fate or Destiny 261\n\n2.  Dissolution through the nature of the anthropomorphism\nof the gods 263\n\n[(_a_) Absence or defect of the principle of subjectivity as\nhere asserted 263\n\n(_b_)  The transition to Christian conceptions only found\nin more modern art. The prosaic art of the Aufkl\u00e4rung.\nIllustrations 266\n\n(_c_)  The dissolution of classical art in its own province] 270\n\n3.  Satire 273\n\n(_a_) Distinction between the dissolution of classical and\nsymbolic art 274\n\n(_b_) The Satire 276\n\n(_c_) The Roman world as the basis of the satire with\nillustrations ancient and modern 277\n\n\nSUBSECTION III\n\nTHE ROMANTIC TYPE OF ART\n\nINTRODUCTION OF THE ROMANTIC IN GENERAL\n\n1.  The Principle of inward Subjectivity 282\n\n2.  The steps in the Evolution of the content and form of\nthe Romantic Principle 283\n\n[(_a_) Point of departure deduced from the Absolute viewed\nas the determinate existence of a self-knowing\nsubject of thought and volition. Man viewed as\nself-possessed Divine. History of Christ 286\n\n(_b_)  This process of self-recognition and reconcilement\nviewed as a process in which strain and conflict\narise. Death as viewed by Christian and Greek\nart contrasted 287\n\n(_c_)  The finite aspect of subjective life in the secular\ninterests, the passions, collisions, and suffering,\nor enjoyment of the earthly life] 290\n\n3. The romantic mode of exposition in relation to its content 291\n\n(_a_) The content of romantic viewed relatively to the\nDivine extremely restricted. Nature divested of its\nassociation, symbolic or otherwise, with Divinity 291\n\n(_b_)  Religion the premiss of romantic art in a far more\nenhanced degree than in symbolic art. Influence\nof the romantic principle on the medium adopted 293\n\n(_c_)  Two worlds covered by the romantic principle, viz.,\nthe soul-kingdom of Spirit reconciled therein,\nand the realm of external Nature from which even\nthe aspect of ugliness is not excluded. Latter\nworld only portrayed in so far as soul finds a home\ntherein] 293\n\nDivision of subject-matter 295\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE RELIGIOUS DOMAIN OF ROMANTIC ART\n\n1.  The Redemption history of Christ 302\n\n(_a_)  The principle of Love as paramount in this religious\nsphere. How far Art in such a sphere is a superfluity 303\n\n(_b_)  From a certain aspect the appearance of Art is\nnecessary 303\n\n(_c_) The aspect of contingency in the particularity of an\nindividual Person as such Divine 304\n\n[(_\u03b1_) The presentment by artists of the exterior personality\nof Christ 304\n\n(_\u03b2_) The conflict inherent in the religious growth,\nviewed as a process, though determining that\nprocess universally, is concentrated in the history\nof _one_ person in the first instance 306\n\n(_\u03b3_) The feature of death only regarded here as a\npoint of transition to self-reconcilement] 308\n\n2.  Religious Love 309\n\n(_a_) Conception of the Absolute as Love 309\n\n(_b_)  Form of Love as self-concentrated emotion. Affiliation\nof such with sensuous presentment 310\n\n(_c_) Love as the Ideal of romantic art 310\n\n[(_\u03b1_) Christ as Divine Love 311\n\n(_\u03b2_) Form most compatible with Art the love of\nmother. Mary, mother of Jesus 311\n\n(_\u03b3_) Love of Christ's disciples and the Christian community] 313\n\n3.  The Spirit of the Community 313\n\n(_a_) The Martyrs 315\n\n(_b_) Penance and conversion within the soul 320\n\n(_c_) Miracles and Legends 323\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nCHIVALRY\n\nIntroduction 325\n\n1. Honour 332\n\n(_a_) Notion of same. Contrast between Greek and\nmodern art in this respect 332\n\n(_b_) Vulnerability of same 335\n\n(_c_) Reparation demanded. Honour a mode of self-subsistency\nwhich is self-reflective 336\n\n2.  Love 337\n\n(_a_) Fundamental conception of. Illustrations from\npoetry 337\n\n(_b_) Collisions of the same 341\n\n[(_\u03b1_) That between honour and love 341\n\n(_\u03b2_) That between the supreme spiritual forces of\nstate, family, etc., and love 342\n\n(_\u03b3_) Opposition between love and external conditions\nin the prose of life and the prejudice of\nothers] 342\n\n(_c_) Limitation of contingency inherent in the conception\nitself 343\n\n3.  Fidelity 345\n\n(_a_) Loyalty of service 346\n\n(_b_) The nature of its co-ordination with a social order\neither in the world of Chivalry or the modern 347\n\n(_c_) Nature of its collisions. Illustrations. The \"Cid,\"\netc. 348\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE FORMAL SELF-STABILITY OF PARTICULAR\nINDIVIDUALITIES\n\nIntroduction 350\n\n1. The Self-subsistence of individual Character 354\n\n(_a_) The formal stability of character 355\n\n(_b_)  Character viewed as an inward but undisclosed\ntotality. Illustrations from Shakespeare 359\n\n(_c_)  The substantial interest in the display of such formal\ncharacter. Shakespeare's vulgar characters, and\nthe geniality of their presentment 365\n\n2. The Spirit of Adventure 367\n\n(_a_)  The contingent nature of ends and collisions 368\n\n[(_\u03b1_) Christian Chivalry in its conflict with Moors,\nArabs, and Mohammedans. Crusades. Holy Grail 369\n\n(_\u03b2_) The universal spirit of adventure in the personal\nexperience of individuals. Dante and the \"Divine\nComedy\" 371\n\n(_\u03b3_) The contingency within the soul due to love,\nhonour, and fidelity] 371\n\n(_b_)  The comic treatment of such contingency. Ariosto\nand Cervantes, contrast between 372\n\n(_c_) The spirit of the novel or romance 375\n\n3.  The Dissolution of the Romantic type 377\n\n(_a_)  The artistic imitation of what is directly presented by Nature 379\n\n[(_\u03b1_) Naturalism in poetry. Diderot, Goethe, and\nSchiller 381\n\n(_\u03b2_) Dutch _genre_ painting 382\n\n(_\u03b3_) Interest in objects delineated related to artistic\npersonality] 385\n\n(_b_)  Individual Humour 386\n\n(_c_)  The end of the romantic type of Art 388\n\n[(_\u03b1_) Conditions under which it is possible for the\nartist to bring the Absolute before the aesthetic\nsense 389\n\n(_\u03b2_) The position of Art at the present day. Analogous\nposition of modern artist and dramatist 391\n\n(_\u03b3_) General review of previously evolved process\nof Art's typical structure. What is possible for\nmodern art and the conditions necessary. Illustration\nof the terminus of romantic art with the\nnature of the Epigram. Supreme function of Art] 394\n\n\n\n\nSECOND PART\n\n\nEVOLUTION OF THE IDEAL IN THE PARTICULAR TYPES OF FINE ART\n\n\n\n\nTHE PHILOSOPHY OF FINE ART\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nAll that has hitherto been the object of our examination in the\nfirst part of this inquiry referred to the reality of the Idea of\nthe beautiful as Ideal of art. In whatever direction, however, we\ndeveloped the notion of the ideal art-product, we throughout applied\nto it a meaning of purely general signification. But the idea of the\nbeautiful implies a totality likewise of essential differences, which\nas such must in veritable form assert themselves. These differences we\nmay broadly describe as the _particular modes_ of art, as the evolved\ncontent of that which is implied in the notion of the Ideal, and which\nsecures actual form through art. When, however, we speak of these\nforms of art as of distinct species or grades[1] of the Ideal, we do\nnot accept the term in the ordinary usage of it as though we found\nhere in external guise particular classes of objects related to and\nmodifying the Ideal respectively as their common genus. Species in the\nsense used here simply expresses the various and continuously expanding\ndetermination of the idea of the beautiful and the Ideal of art itself.\nThe universality of the ideal representation is in the case posited not\ndetermined on the side of external existence, but is assumed to be the\ncloser determination of itself in the explication of its own notion;\nor, in other words, it is the notion itself which unfolds itself in a\ntotality of particular types of art.\n\nMore closely regarded, then, the specific types of art have their\norigin, as the unfolded realization of the Idea of the beautiful, in\nthe very nature of the Idea itself, which by means of them presses\nforward to real and concrete appearance. Moreover, just in so far as it\nceases to expand[2] in the abstract determination or concrete fulness\nof any one of them, it manifests itself in some other form of realized\nexpression. For the Idea is only Idea in its essential truth in so far\nas it proceeds in this self-evolution by means of its own activity.\nAnd inasmuch as it is, as Ideal, immediate appearance, and moreover\nwith each mode thereof is still identical as the idea of the beautiful,\nwe find that in every particular phase which reveals the Ideal in its\nprocess of self-explication we have another actual manifestation which\nis immediately related to the essential characterization of those\ndiverse types of yet further expansion. It really is a matter of no\nconsequence whether we regard this process as a process of the Idea\nwithin its own substance, or that of the form under which it attains\ndeterminate existence, inasmuch as both aspects are immediately bound\nup with each other, and the perfecting of the Idea as content, and the\nperfecting of its form are but two ways of expressing the same process.\nOr, to put the matter in the reverse way, the defects of a given form\nof art of this kind betray themselves as a defect of the Idea, in so\nfar as such defects give a limited significance to the essential nature\nof the Idea in external form, and as such invest it with reality.\nWhen we consequently compare such still inadequate forms of art with\nwhat most obviously presents itself for comparison, that is, the true\nIdeal, we must be careful not to use expressions commonly applicable to\nworks of art that are failures, which either express nothing at all,\nor have discovered an incompetence to express what ought to have been\nexpressed. Rather for every form of the Idea there is a definite mode\nof appearance, which clothes it precisely in one of those particular\nforms of art to which we have adverted, adequate in every respect\nthereto, and the defective or perfected character of which consists\nentirely in the relative truth or untruth of the determinate form,\nunder which and through which the Idea is actually realized. For the\ncontent must first be clothed with reality and concreteness before it\ncan attain to the form wholly adequate to its essential truth. As we\nhave already indicated in the previous division of our subject-matter,\nwe have three fundamental forms or types of art to examine.\n\n_First_, we have the _symbolical._ In this the Idea is still seeking\nfor its true artistic expression, because it is here still essentially\nabstract and undetermined, and consequently has not mastered for itself\nthe external appearance adequate to its own substance, but rather finds\nitself in unresolved opposition to the external objects in physical\nNature and the world of mankind. And inasmuch as in this crude relation\nto objective existence it immediately surmises its own isolation, or\nis carried into some form of concrete existence by means, of universal\ncharacteristics which are void of all true definition, it vitiates and\nfalsifies the actual forms of reality which it has found, and which\nit seizes in a wholly capricious way[3]. And, consequently, instead\nof being able to identify itself completely with the object, it can\nonly assert a kind of accord, or rather a still abstract reflection of\nsignificance and figure, a mode of representation which, being neither\ncomplete in its artistic fusion, nor capable of being completed,\nsuffers the object to emerge as reciprocally external, strange, and\ninadequate to itself as it was before.\n\n_Secondly_, we have the form in which the Idea, here in accordance\nwith its true notional activity, is carried beyond the abstraction and\nindeterminacy of general characterization[4], is conscious of itself\nas free and infinite subjectivity, and grasps that self-conscious life\nin its real existence as Spirit (Mind). Spirit, as the free subject of\nconsciousness, is self-determined through its own resources, and even\nin this its conscious grasp of self-determination possesses a form of\nexternality adequate to express it, and one in which the essential\nimport of that consciousness can be united with an explicit reality\nentirely appropriate. This second type of art, the _classical_, is\nbased upon such absolutely homogeneous unity of content and form. In\norder, however, to make this unity complete the human spirit, in so\nfar as it makes itself the object of art, must not be taken as Spirit\nin the absolute significance we refer to it, where it discovers its\nadequate subsistence wholly in the _spiritual_ resources of its own\nessential domain, but rather as a still _individualized_ spirit, and as\nsuch charged with a certain aspect of isolation. In other words, the\nfree individual which classical art unites to its forms appears, it is\ntrue, as essentially universal, and consequently freed from all the\nmere contingence and particularity both of the subjective world of mind\nand the external world of Nature. But it is at the same time permeated\nby a universality which is itself essentially individualized. For the\nexternal form is necessarily both defined and singular by virtue of\nits externality, which it is only capable of completely fusing with an\nartistic content by representing that content as itself defined, and\nconsequently of a limited character; and, moreover, it is only Spirit\nthat is thus particularized which can pass into an objective shape and\nunite itself with the same in an inseparable unity.\n\nIn this form Art has reached the fulness of its own notion to this\nextent, namely, that the Idea, which is here spiritual individuality,\nbrought into immediate accord with itself in the form of its bodily\npresence, receives from it a presentation so complete, that external\nexistence is no longer able to preserve its consistency as against the\nideal significance which it serves to express; or, to put it in the\nreverse way, the spiritual content is exclusively manifested in the\nelaborated form within which Art clothes it for sensuous perception,\nand thereby affirmatively asserts itself in the same.\n\n_Thirdly_, we have the form in which the Idea of beauty grasps its\nown being as _absolute_ Spirit, Spirit, that is to say, in the full\nconsciousness of its untrammelled freedom. But for this very reason\nit is unable any more to obtain complete realization in forms which\nare external; its true determinate existence is now that which it\npossesses in itself as Spirit. That unity of the life of Spirit and\nits external appearance which we find in classical art is unbound,\nand it flees from the same once more into itself. It is this recoil\nwhich presents to us the fundamental type of the _romantic_ type of\nart. Here we find, by reason of the free spirituality which pervades\nthe content, such content makes a more ideal demand upon expression\nthan the mere representation through an external or physical medium\nis able to supply; the form on its external side sinks therefore to\na relation of _indifference_; and in the romantic form of art we\nconsequently meet with a separation between content and form as we\npreviously found it in the symbolic form, with this difference that\nit is now due to the subordination of matter to spiritual expression\nrather than the predominance of externality over ideal significance.\nIt is in this way that symbolic art _seeks_ after that perfected unity\nof ideal significance and external form, which classical art in its\nrepresentation of substantive individuality succeeds in _communicating_\nto sensuous perception, and which romantic art _passes over and beyond_\nthrough its overwhelming insistence on the claims of Spirit.\n\n[Footnote 1: _Art._ Hegel takes the ordinary scientific sense to\ndescribe the meaning. The word \"type\" would more truly express it.]\n\n[Footnote 2: _F\u00fcr sich selber ist._ That is, having arrived at one form\nof determination, returns upon itself and throws off another form, just\nas the plant germ after arriving at the leaf expands into the bud, and\nso on.]\n\n[Footnote 3: That is, with no reference to intelligent principle.]\n\n[Footnote 4: _Allgemeiner Gedanken._ Hegel means the bare\ngeneralizations or abstract conceptions of thought.]\n\n\n\n\nSUBSECTION I\n\nTHE SYMBOLIC TYPE OF ART\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nOF THE SYMBOL GENERALLY\n\nSymbol, in the signification we here attach to the word, is not\nmerely the beginning of art from the point of view of its notional\ndevelopment, but marks also its first appearance in history. We\nmay consequently regard it as only the forecourt of art, which is\nprincipally the possession of the East, and through which, after a\nvariety of transitional steps and mediating passages, we are at last\nintroduced to the genuine realization of the Ideal in the classical\ntype of art. We must therefore from the very first take care to\ndistinguish symbol where its unique characteristics provide it with an\nindependent sphere of its own, in which it determines the radical and\neffective type of a certain form of art's exposition and presentment\nfrom that kind of symbolic expression which amounts to no more than\na purely external aspect of form entirely without such independent\nsignificance. In the latter sense we, in fact, come across it in\nthe classical and romantic forms of art just as certain aspects of\nsymbolical art are not wholly without the characteristic features\nof the classical Ideal, or present to us the origins of romantic\nart. Such reciprocal interplay between the fundamental forms of art\nattaches, however, merely to subsidiary images or isolated traits; it\nhas no power whatever to modify, still less to expunge, the animating\nprinciple which essentially determines the character of the entire work\nof art.\n\nIn such cases where we find symbol elaborated in its entirely unique\nand independent form it is as a general rule characterized by the\nquality of the _sublime_, because its main impression is to show us the\nIdea still united to measureless dimension rather than rounded in a\nfree and self-defined content; it would fain clothe itself with form,\nand yet is unable to secure in the substantial appearances of the world\na definite form which is entirely adequate to express the abstractness\nand universality of its longing. On account of this inability to attain\nits purpose the Idea passes over and beyond the external existence\nwhich surrounds it instead of penetrating to the core or completely\nmaking its home therein. And this flight beyond the limits of the\nfinite and visible world is precisely that which constitutes the\ngeneral character of the sublime.\n\nBut before we proceed further it will be convenient, by way of\nelucidating the formal aspect of our subject, to explain at once, if in\nquite general terms, what we understand by the expression symbol.\n\nGenerally speaking, symbol is some form of external existence\nimmediately presented to the senses, which, however, is not accepted\nfor its own worth, as it lies thus before us in its immediacy, but\nfor the wider and more general significance which it offers to our\nreflection. We may consequently distinguish between two points of\nview equally applicable to the term; first, the _significance_, and,\nsecondly, the mode in which such significance is _expressed_. The\n_first_ is a conception of the mind, or an object which stands wholly\nindifferent to any particular content, the _latter_ is a form of\nsensuous existence or a representation of some kind or other.\n\n1. Symbol, then, is in the first place a _sign._ When we speak of the\nsignificant and nothing more there is no necessary connection between\nthe thing signified and its _modus_ of expression whatever. This\nmanner of its expression, this sensuous thing or image, so far from\nbeing immediately called up by that for which it is the sign, rather\npresents itself to the imagination as a wholly foreign content to it,\nby no means necessarily associated with it in a unique way. So, for\nexample, in language tones are signs of specific conditions of idea\nor emotion. By far the greater number of the tones of any language\nare, however, associated with the ideas, which are thereby expressed\nentirely by chance, so far as the content of those ideas is concerned,\neven though the history of the development of language may show us that\nthe original connection between the two was of a different nature, and\nthat an essential element in the difference between one language and\nanother consists in this, that the same idea is expressed through a\ndifferent sound. Another example of such bare signs are colours[5],\nwhich we used in cockades or flags in order to express the nationality\nof an individual or vessel. Such colours by themselves alone carry\nno particular quality which can be immediately related to the thing\nthey signify, that is, the nation which they represent. In a sense\nsuch as this, where the bond between the signification and the sign is\none of _indifference_, symbol must not be understood when we connect\nthe expression with art. For art consists precisely in the reciprocal\nrelation, affinity, and substantive fusion of significance and form.\n\n2. We must consequently interpret sign in a different sense when we\nspeak of it as equivalent to symbol. The lion is, for example, a symbol\nof magnanimity, the fox symbolizes cunning, the circle eternity,\nthe triangle the Triune God. Here we find that the lion and the fox\nthemselves possess the qualities whose import they serve to express. In\nthe same way the circle points beyond the mere indefinite extension, or\nthe capriciously fixed limit of a straight line, or any other line that\ndoes not return upon itself, and which at the same time is suitable as\nthe expression of a definite period of time; and the triangle regarded\nas a _totality_ possesses the same number of sides and angles as is\ninvolved in the idea of God, when the determinations under which\nthe religious consciousness defines the Supreme Being are expressed\nnumerically.\n\nIn the latter forms of symbol therefore the objects presented to the\nsenses have already in their own existence that significance, to\nrepresent and express which they are used; symbol as employed in this\nexpanded sense is consequently no purely indifferent mark for something\nother than itself, but a significant fact which in its own external\nform already presents the content of the idea which it symbolizes.\nAt the same time it is not the concrete thing it is itself, which it\nshould bring before the imagination, but simply that general quality of\nsignificance which attaches to it.\n\n3. We would, thirdly, draw attention to the fact that although symbol\nmay not, as is the case with the purely external and formal sign, be\nwholly inadequate to the significance derived from it, yet, in order\nthat it may retain its character as symbol, it must on the other hand\npresent an aspect which is strange to it. In other words, though the\ncontent which is significant, and the form which is used to typify\nit in respect to a _single_ quality, unite in agreement, none the\nless the symbolical form must possess at the same time still _other_\nqualities entirely independent of that _one_ which is shared by it,\nand is once for all marked as significant, just as the content[6]\nneed not necessarily be a bare abstract quality such as strength or\ncunning, but rather a concrete substance, which on its side, too,\npossesses a variety of characteristics which distinguish it from the\nprimary quality in which its symbolic character consists, and in the\nsame way, but to a still greater degree, from everything else that\ncharacterizes the symbolical form. The lion, for example, possesses\nother qualities than mere strength, the fox than mere cunning, and\nthe apprehension of God is not necessarily bound up with conceptions\nwhich imply number. The content, therefore, as thus viewed, is also\nplaced in a relation of _indifference_ to the symbolical form, which\nrepresents it, and the abstract quality which it typifies may quite\npossibly be present in countless other existing objects. In the same\nway a content which is thus varied in its composition may possess\nmany qualities, to symbolize any of which other forms will equally\nserve where a similar correspondence with such is apparent. The same\nreasoning is also applicable to the external object in which any\nparticular content[7] is symbolically expressed. Such an object, in\nits concrete natural existence, possesses a number of characteristics\nfor all of which it may stand as the symbol. The most obvious symbol\nfor strength is unquestionably the lion, but the ox and the horn of\nthe ox may equally serve as such, and from other points of view the ox\npossesses many other qualities as significant. But few objects, if any,\nhave been brought home to the imagination with such a prodigal wealth\nof symbolic form and imagery as that of the Supreme Being. We may\nconclude, then, from the above remarks that the use of the term symbol\nis necessarily[8] and essentially open to _ambiguity._\n\n(_a_) For, in the first place, no sooner do we look for some symbol\nthan the doubt almost invariably arises whether a _particular form is\nto be accepted as a symbol or no_; and this is so, though we set on one\nside the further ambiguity with reference to the _particular_ nature of\nthe content, which a given form under all the _variety_ of its aspects\nmay be held to symbolize, many of which may be employed symbolically\nthrough associating links that do not appear on the surface[9].\n\nNow what a symbol primarily offers us is generally speaking a form, an\nimage, which of itself is the presentment of an immediate fact. Such\nimmediate existence, or its image, a lion for example, an eagle, or a\nparticular colour, stands there before us as it is, a valid existing\nfact. The question consequently arises whether a lion, whose image is\nset before us, merely is set there to express the natural fact, or\nwhether in addition to this it carries a further significance, that is\nthe more abstract connotation of mere strength, or the more concrete\none of a hero or a period of the year, husbandry and anything else we\nchoose to infer from it; whether in fact, as we say, the image is to be\ntaken literally, or with a further ideal significance, or possibly only\nwith the latter. The last case finds its illustration in symbolical\nexpressions of speech and particular words such as comprehension,\nconclusion[10] and others of the same kind. When such signify mental\nactivities we have simply set before us the immediate import of a\nmental activity and no more without any recall to our memory of the\nmaterial acts, which originally were implied in the meaning of these\nwords. When on the contrary the picture of a lion is presented us we\nhave not merely the significance to consider which it may bear as\nsymbol, but also the bodily shape and presence of the king of beasts\nbefore our eyes. An ambiguity of this nature can only fully disappear\nwhen the sense attached to both aspects, namely, symbolical import, and\nits external form, is expressly stated, and we learn by this means the\nexact relation which exists between them. In that case, however, the\nconcrete fact which is set before us ceases to be a symbol in the real\nmeaning of the term, and becomes simply an image, the relation of which\nto significance is expressed by the well-known form of comparison,\nnamely, _simile._ In the simile, that is to say, both factors are\nimmediately presented to us, the general conception and its concrete\nimage. When on the contrary reflection has not proceeded so far as to\nhold general conceptions in assured independence, and consequently to\nset them forth by themselves, in that case we find that the sensuous\nimage to which they are cognate, and in which a significance of more\ngeneral[11] import is able to find its expression is not yet conceived\nas separate from such a significance, but both are still immediately\nheld together in unity. And this it is which, as we shall see more\nclosely as we proceed, constitutes the distinction between symbol\nand comparison. An illustration of the latter kind may be found in\nthat exclamation of Karl Moor, as he gazes on the setting sun: \"Thus\ndies a hero!\" Here we see that the ideal significance is expressly\nseparated from the sensuous impression while at the same time it is\nassociated with the picture. In other cases, it is true even of similes\nthis act of separation in relation is not so clearly marked, and the\nassociation appears to be more immediate; in such cases it must already\nappear manifest from the general content of the narrative, from the\nposition assigned to the picture, or other circumstances, that viewed\nas merely a statement of fact, such an image is not justified, but that\nsome special significance or other, which cannot fail to arrest our\nattention, is intended by it. When, for example, Luther says:\n\n/$\n               A steadfast stronghold is our God.\n$/\n\nor we read:\n\n/$\n     In den Ocean schifft mit tausend Masten der Jungling,\n       Still auf geretteten Boot treibt in den Hafen der Greis[12].\n$/\n\nwe can have no doubt whatever upon the implied significance, whether\nit be of a protection suggested by \"stronghold,\" the world of hopes\nand life-plans symbolized in the picture of the ocean and the thousand\nmasts; or the narrowed aims and possessions with the assured plot of\nground at the end, which is reflected from the boat and the haven. In\nthe same way when we read in the Old Testament: \"May God break their\nteeth in their mouth, may the Lord shatter the hindermost teeth of the\nyoung lions,\" it is obvious that neither the words \"mouth,\" \"teeth,\"\nnor \"hindermost teeth of the young lions\" are used in the literal\nsense, but are utilized as images and sensuous ideas, which carry a\nsignificance only present to the mind, and that such _significance_ is\nall that matters.\n\nThis ambiguity, then, is all the more conspicuous in the case of\nsymbolical representation for the reason that an image, which carries\na particular significance, only receives the descriptive name of\n_symbol_ when such significance ceases to be expressly marked by\nitself, or is otherwise clearly emphasized as it is in the case of the\nsimile. No doubt the ambiguity of the genuine symbol is to this extent\nremoved in that by virtue of this very uncertainty the fusion of the\nsensuous image and its significance becomes a matter more or less of\nconvention and custom, a feature which is indispensably necessary in\nthe case where mere signs are used, while on the other hand the simile\nasserts itself as something individual, discovered on the spur of the\nmoment to assist the meaning, and is independently clear, because it\nemphasizes the significance alongside of that independence. At the same\ntime, though no doubt the symbol may be clear enough to those who are\nhabituated to its use, and whose imaginative life is at home in such\na conventional atmosphere, it is a very different matter with all who\nare outside this native circle, or for whom it is now a thing of the\nPast; for such it is only the immediate sensuous representation which\nis in the first instance seized, and it remains for these in every way\na question of doubt, whether they are to rest satisfied with that which\nlies openly before their eyes, or are to accept these as indicators to\nyet further imagery or ideas. When, for example, we gaze in Christian\nchurches upon the _triangle_ in some conspicuous position on the walls,\nwe at once recognize that the intention is not to place before the\nview this geometrical figure simply as such, but rather to draw our\nattention to its spiritual significance. If, however, we were to find\nit elsewhere we should probably feel equally certain that such a figure\nhad no reference whatever, either as sign or symbol, to the Trinity.\nOn the other hand a folk strange to the ideas which have grown up in\nChristian countries might easily feel doubts in both cases, and it is\nby no means easy for ourselves to determine with equal certainty in all\ncases, whether a figure of this kind is to be understood as presenting\nus with its literal or symbolical interpretation.\n\n(_b_) Moreover this ambiguity does not merely apply to isolated\ncases, but extends to vast areas of the entire domain of art, to the\ncontent of an almost unlimited material open to our inspection, to the\ncontent in full of all that Oriental art has ever produced. For this\nreason, as we enter for the first time the world of ancient Persian,\nIndian, or Egyptian figures and imaginative conceptions we experience\na certain feeling of uncanniness, we wander at any rate in a world\nof _problems._ These fantastic images do not at once respond to our\nown world; we are neither pleased nor satisfied with the immediate\nimpression they produce on us; rather we are instinctively carried\nforward by it to probe yet further into their significance, and to\ninquire what wider and profounder truths may lie concealed behind such\nrepresentations. In other productions of the same kind it is apparent\nat the first glance that they are, just like so many fairy tales of\nchildren, merely an interplay of pictorial fancy, a strange texture of\ncuriosities woven together at haphazard. For children delight in just\nsuch an even surface of pictures, a play of the fancy which makes no\ndemand on effort or intelligence, but is simply a collection tumbled\ntogether. Nations on the contrary, even in their childhood, require as\nthe food of their imaginative life a more essential content; and this\nis just what in fact we find in the figures of Indian and Egyptian art,\nalthough the interpretation of such problematical pictures is only\ndimly suggested, and we experience great difficulty in deciphering it.\n\nEven in the province of classical art we meet now and again with a like\nuncertainty, though it is the essence of classical art to be throughout\nclear and intelligible on its own surface without the use of symbolism\nof any kind. And this clarity of classical art consists in this that\nit comprehends the true content of Art, in other words substantive[13]\nsubjectivity, and thereby discovers at the same time the true form,\nwhich essentially expresses nothing less than this genuine content,\nso that what it appears to mind, the significance that is of it is\njust that, which is veritably expressed in the external form, both the\nideal aspect and the plastic shape being entirely adequate to each\nother; in symbolical art, the simile, and other forms of that kind,\nthe image always brings before perception something in addition to\nthat significance, for which it merely serves as the picture. At the\nsame time classical art, too, presents us with an aspect of ambiguity.\nIn considering the mythological phantasies of antique art it is\nfrequently a matter most difficult to decide, whether we do rightly\nin taking such plastic figures simply for what they are, contenting\nourselves with mere wonder over the wealth and charm, which this happy\nplay of imaginative vigour offers us, for the reason of course that\nmythology is generally accepted as nothing but an idle collection\nof fairy tales, or whether on the contrary we have still to seek for\na significance of wider range and greater depth. We shall feel the\ninsistence of such a doubt in exceptional force where the content of\nthese fables refers directly to the life and activity of the Divine,\nin cases, that is, where the stories handed down to us can only be\nregarded as utterly unworthy of the Supreme Being, indicative of an\ninvention as entirely inadequate as it is in the worst possible taste.\nWhen we read, for example, the twelve labours of Hercules, or, to take\na stronger case, are informed that Zeus hurled Hephaestus from Olympus\non to the island of Lemnos, with the result that Vulcan remained lame\never after, we are no doubt ready to believe that the entire story is\nnothing but a fairy tale of the imagination. It is just as possible to\nbelieve that all the love affairs of Zeus are mere freaks of a prodigal\nfancy. But, on the other hand, for the very reason that such stories\nare told about the Supreme Divinity, it is quite equally credible that\nmeaning of more universal import is hidden under that which such myths\nimmediately transmit to us.\n\nWith regard to such facts as those above stated, there are two\ntheories current of exceptional importance and contradictory to each\nother. The one accepts mythology as a collection of stories of purely\nexternal significance, which as such could not fail to be unworthy\npresentations of the Divine nature, though able, when regarded\napart from such associations, to reveal to us much that is finely\nconceived, delightful, interesting, nay, even of great beauty. They\noffer us, however, no ground whatever for attempting to enlarge their\nsignificance. In this view mythology is in the form in which it is\npresented purely _historical_: under one aspect, that is, treating it\nas art, in its shapes, pictures, gods, together with all the practical\nactivities and events it describes, it is amply self-sufficient,\nor rather by the way it brings before us that which is significant\nsupplies its own elucidation; from another point of view, that is to\nsay, its origin in history, we have to regard it as built up from\nlocal claims, no less than the chance caprice of priest, artist, and\npoet, the facts of history, foreign legends and traditions. The theory\nwhich is _opposed_ to the above is unable to rest satisfied with the\npurely external husk of mythological form and narration, and insists\non discovering beneath it a meaning of more universal and profounder\nimport, to master which, as it breaks upon the surface, it conceives to\nbe the main object of mythological inquiry regarded as the scientific\nexamination of the mythos. In this view mythology must necessarily be\napprehended as bound up with _symbolism._ And by symbolism all that is\nmeant here is just this, that however bizarre, ridiculous, grotesque\nsuch myths appear to be, however much the adventitious caprice of a\nplastic imagination may contribute to their form, they are essentially\na birth of Spirit; and in spite of it all contain in them significant\nideas, that is, thoughts of universal significance upon the nature of\nGod; they are, in short, _Philosophemes._[14] In this latter sense\nthe recent work of Creuzer on symbolism is particularly noteworthy;\nthis writer has once more taken up the review of the mythological\nconceptions of the ancient world, not, as is so frequently the fashion,\nfrom the external and prosaic standpoint, or simply with the object of\ndetermining this artistic merit, but rather expressly to elucidate the\nintrinsic rationality of their substance. Such an inquiry proceeds from\nthe presupposition that myths and fabulous tales have their origin in\nthe human spirit, which is capable, no doubt, of playing freely with\nits notions of gods, but in its religious interest marks the point\nwhere it enters a more exalted sphere, in which reason itself is the\ndiscoverer of form, albeit it is charged with the defect of being\nunable at this early stage to exhibit the core from which it grows with\ncommensurate power. And this assumption is essentially just. Religion\ndiscovers its fountain-head in Spirit, which seeks after its truth,\ndimly discovers it, bringing the same to consciousness by means of\nany form, which displays an affinity with this form of truth, be it a\nform of narrower or wider borders. But once grant that it is reason\nwhich seeks after such forms, and the necessity is obvious to recognize\nthe work of reason. Such a recognition is alone truly worthy of human\ninquiry. Whoever shelves this problem makes himself master of nothing\nbut a motley show of unrelated learning. If we, on the other hand,\nprobe into, the truth of mythological conceptions as it presents itself\nto mind, without at the same time excluding from our grasp that other\naspect of them, that is, the haphazard caprice therein exercised by\nthe imagination, and all the external influences, local or otherwise,\nwhich have contributed to this creation, we shall then be in a position\nto justify the various systems of mythology. To justify the work of\nman in the imagery and forms that are the product of his spirit is\na noble enterprise, of rarer worth than the mere heaping together\nof the external facts of history. The objection has no doubt been\npressed against Creuzer that here, treading in the steps of the new\nPlatonists[15], the wider significance he elucidates from the myths is\na creation he attaches to them himself; that, in short, he discovers\nconceptions in them which are not merely without any historical basis\nto uphold them, but which it can be positively shown he must have\nfirst introduced before he could have found them; in other words it\nis asserted that neither the people of such times nor the poets or\npriests--although from another point of view emphasis is frequently\nlaid on the occult wisdom of the priesthood--could have possessed any\nknowledge of such ideas, which would have been wholly incompatible\nwith the prevailing culture. Such objections, of course, are entitled\nto their full weight. These peoples, poets, and priests have not, in\nfact, been conscious of universal conceptions in the particular form of\nuniversality which the human mind now discovers at the root of their\nmythological ideas, in the sense that they could have deliberately\nclothed such conceptions in the forms of symbolism. And as a matter\nof fact this is never maintained even by Creuzer. But however true it\nmay be that the reflections of the ancient world over its mythology\nwere entirely different from those of the modern, we are by no means\ntherefore entitled to conclude that the conceptions of its mythology\nare not essentially symbolical, and as such must be fully accepted;\nrather our inference should be that in the times when these peoples\ncreated the poetry of their myths, from the midst of a life itself\nsteeped in poetry, they would instinctively bring home to consciousness\nall that was most spiritual and profound in that life in the forms of\nthe imagination rather than that of reflection, and fail to separate\nconceptions which were more universal or abstract from the concrete\ncreations of their phantasy. That this really was the case is a fact\nwhich we have in this inquiry to accept as fundamentally established;\nwe may, nevertheless, be equally prepared to admit that, in such a form\nof interpretation as the symbolical, theories are apt to slip in which\nare merely the product of artifice and ingenuity, much as is the case\nwith etymological science.\n\n(_c_) At the same time, however much we may find ourselves in general\nagreement with the view that mythology, with its tales of the gods\nand its circumstantial pictures of a persistently poetic imagination,\nincludes within its borders a content, that is to say rational and\nprofound religious conceptions, it is still open to us to ask in our\nexamination of the symbolical form of art whether for the same reason\nall mythology and art is to be interpreted in a _symbolical sense_, in\naccordance with that typical assertion of Friedrich von Schlegel, to\nthe effect that we are bound to look for an allegory in every artistic\nrepresentation. The symbolical or allegorical is then understood in the\nsense that a general conception[16] is assumed to underlie every work\nof art as its motive principle and every mythological form, by bringing\nthe universal character of which into prominence it should then be\npossible to expound the real significance of such a work or imaginative\ncreation. This mode of treatment is, moreover, very commonly adopted\nin our own days. We find, for instance, in the more recent editions\nof Dante a marked tendency to interpret every canto in an exclusively\nallegorical sense, and no doubt the poetry of Dante contains many\nexamples of such allegories. In the same way Heyne's editions of the\nclassical poets evince the same disposition in their commentaries to\nelucidate the general significance of every metaphorical expression by\nmeans of the abstract conceptions of the understanding. Nor is this to\nbe wondered at; for it is just this faculty which is most ready to\nseize upon symbol and allegory, while at the same time it separates\nthe sensuous image from its significance, and by so doing destroys the\nunity of the artistic form, an aspect over which it is, in its zeal\nfor a symbolical interpretation, which aims exclusively at setting the\nuniversal characteristic as such in relief, wholly indifferent.\n\nSuch an extension of symbolism over every province of mythology and art\nis by no means that which we have in view in our present consideration\nof the symbolical form of art. It is not any part of our labours to\nascertain to what extent a symbolical or allegorical significance, in\nthis enlarged use of the term, is applicable to the forms of art. On\nthe contrary we shall restrict ourselves entirely to the question how\nfar symbolism itself is entitled to rank as a form of art; and the\nquestion is raised in order that we may finally determine the precise\nrelation which subsists between artistic significance and artistic\nform in so far as such a relation is symbolical and stands in contrast\nto other modes of artistic presentation, in particular those of the\nclassical and romantic art-forms. We must consequently endeavour before\neverything else expressly to limit the field of our review to that\nportion where we find the symbolical is independently portrayed in its\nessential character and is open to our consideration as such, rather\nthan attempt to make a symbolical interpretation co-extensive with\nthe entire domain of art. And it is consistently with such a purpose\nthat we have already subdivided the Ideal of art under its respective\nsymbolical, classical, and romantic forms.\n\nIn the signification we give to the expression the symbolical\ndisappears at the point where we find that a free subjectivity rather\nthan purely abstract conceptions determines the content of the artistic\nproduct. In this case the conscious subject is his own self-assured\nsignificance, his own self-manifestation. All that he feels, conceives,\ndoes, and perfects, his qualities, his actions, and his character,\nall this he actually is himself; the entire gamut of his spiritual\nand sensuous manifestation has no further significance than that of\ndeclaring his subjective unity, which, in this process of expansion\nand development of its own wealth, brings before the eyes of all the\nman himself as master over the entire field of objective reality\nthus presented to him, the world in which he discovers his existence.\nSignificance and sensuous presentment, inward and outward reality,\nfact and picture, are here no longer separate from each other, assert\nthemselves here no longer as merely cognate, the characteristic\ndistinction of the symbolic relation, but rather as a totality, in\nwhich the manifestation possesses no other reality, the reality no\nother manifestation either outside of or alongside with itself. That\nwhich declares itself and that which is declared is here posited[17] in\nits concrete unity. In this sense the gods of Greece, in so far, that\nis to say, as the art of Greece was able to represent them as free,\nself-subsistent, and unique types of personality, are to be accepted\nfrom no symbolical point of view, but as self-sufficient in their own\npersons. The actions of Zeus, for example, of Apollo or Athene are\nactions appropriated by Art to themselves and only themselves, and must\nnot be allowed to stand for anything but the might and passion of such\npersonages. If we once attempt to abstract from free individualities\nof this kind some general conception as the essential core of their\nsignificance, setting it alongside their concrete particularity as\nan interpretation of their entire and individual manifestation, we\nlet fall or annihilate all that we have failed to observe, and it is\nprecisely all in these figures which art seeks most to secure. For\nthis reason artists have been unable to take kindly to such symbolical\ninterpretations of all works of art and the mythological figures we\nfind in them. For all that is left us in the sphere of art we have just\nbeen considering which is really compatible with an interpretation\nbased on symbolism or allegory only affects subsidiary aspects,\nand is for that reason expressly limited to the attribute and the\nrepresentative signs; the eagle, for example, stands by Zeus, an ox is\nthe companion of the evangelist Luke; the Egyptians, on the contrary,\nbeheld in the form of Apis the Divine itself.\n\nThe point so difficult to decide in connection with this manifestation\nof self-conscious freedom, otherwise so appropriate to artistic\npresentment, is just this, whether that which is placed before us as\nsuch a subject really possesses a subjective individuality of the\nabove quality, or only carries the mere semblance of it in the form of\na _personified_ shadow[18]. In this latter case personality is nothing\nbut a superficial form, which fails to express its vital substance in\nparticular acts no less than bodily form, which would otherwise enable\nit to penetrate through all that is external in its appearance as its\nown possession, and instead of this still retains another inwardness\nfor the external reality as its significance, which is not either true\npersonality or subjective freedom. It is precisely at this point that\nwe find the boundary which includes or excludes symbolic art.\n\nOur interest, then, in the consideration of the symbol consists in\nthis, that we recognize thereby that process within itself where we\nfind the beginnings of art, in so far as the same proceeds from the\nnotion of that Ideal which unfolds itself gradually as art in its\ntruth, and while doing so recognizes each stage of symbolical art as\nsuccessive steps which conduct us to the same consummation. However\nintimate the connection between religion and art may be we are not here\nconcerned to pass in review either symbols or religion under the range\nwhich is co-extensive with the wider signification of the word symbol\nor emblematical conceptions; we have exclusively to consider that\naspect of them, according to which they belong to art in its own right,\nhanding over their religious aspect to the historian of mythology and\nsymbolism.\n\n\n\n\nDIVISION OF THE SUBJECT\n\n\nIn proceeding now to a closer determination of the several divisions\nof symbolic art it will be necessary, in the first place, to fix the\nboundary lines within which the development of the successive grades\nof this type moves forward. Speaking generally, as we have already\nobserved, the entire sphere we have now to define is in principle a\n_forecourt_ of art. We have here, in the first instance, significant\nconceptions which are purely abstract, which are still in themselves\ndestitute of essential individuality, the immediate artistic\npresentment of which may be as truly described either as adequate or\ninadequate[19]. Our first definition of boundary consists, therefore,\nin determining generally the earliest modes under which artistic\nperception and representation work themselves out[20] into actuality;\non the further side of the line at the other extreme we have real art,\nin the direction of which symbolic art uplifts itself as to its truth.\n\n1. In discussing the origins of this appearance of symbolic art from\nthe _subjective_ point of view, we may draw attention to an observation\nmade previously, that the artistic consciousness, no less than the\nreligious, or rather we should say both in their essential unity, and\nwe may even include the impulse of scientific inquiry, have originated\nin _wonder._ The man who is still unable to wonder at anything lives\nin a condition of crassness and obtuseness which is devoid of all\ninterest, in which for him everything is as naught for the reason that\nhe fails as yet to separate or unravel himself from objects around him\nand their own immediate and independent existence. The man, however,\nat the opposite extreme, whose wonder is _no longer_ excited, is the\nman who contemplates the entire external world as somewhat which he\nhas made himself clear about. It may be under the abstract conceptions\nof the commonsense understanding resulting in some general survey of\nknowledge attainable by the average mind, or it may be in the noble\nor profounder consciousness of his own absolute spiritual freedom and\nuniversality. In either case he has converted the bare fact of such\nobjects and their existence into some spiritual insight of their truth\nbrought home to himself. We may conclude, then, that wonder originates\nin the condition where we find that man, as conscious Spirit, torn away\nfrom his first most immediate association with Nature, and from his\nearliest and entirely active[21] relation to desire, steps back from\nNature and his own individual existence, and seeks after and finds in\nthe objects which surround him a universal, an essential and permanent\nprinciple. Then for the first time the facts of Nature astonish him,\nthey become for him an other-than-himself he would fain appropriate,\nand within which he strives to rediscover his own substance, that is\nthe universal, thoughts, reason. For the dim foretaste here of a higher\nand the consciousness of the external are still unsevered, and this\nthough a contradiction between the objects of Nature and the Spirit\nwhich perceives them is already present, a contradiction in which these\nobjects appear to repel him quite as much as they attract, and the\nfeeling of which, in the force wherewith they thrust him away, is, in\nfact, the birth-pang of his very wonder.\n\nThe earliest result of this condition of wonder in man's vision of\nNature is that on the one hand he sets himself in opposition to\nNature and her objective world as a principle[22], and adores her\nas Power; on the other he is equally possessed with a desire, which\ncraves satisfaction, to render objective to himself his intuition of\na higher, essential, and universal somewhat, and to look upon its\nrehabilitated presence. In this two-fold aspect of his conscious life\nhe is confronted by reality in the following way. The particular\nobjects of Nature, and above all those elementary facts, sea,\nrivers, mountains, and constellations, are not received by him in the\nsingularity of their immediate presentment to sense, but, carried up\ninto the sphere of imaginative conception, assume for that faculty the\nform of universal and essentially self-subsistent existence. And we may\ntrace the beginning of art in this, that it reflects these ideas of the\nimagination thus universalized and essentially independent, in visible\nrepresentation for immediate perception, and sets them forth for mind\nin the individual form of the same as objects. The mere adoration of\nexternal facts, with its Nature-cult and fetish-cult, is not as yet on\nthis account an art of any kind.\n\nUnder the aspect in which it is related to the _objective_ world,\nthe beginnings of art are more intimately associated with religion.\nThe earliest works of art are of the mythological order. In religion\nit is nothing less than the Absolute, which breaks to consciousness\nthrough its own impulse[23], though the determinating factors of\nthat consciousness be the most abstract and jejune conceivable.\nAnd the earliest _phase in this evolution_ of the Absolute is the\nphenomenal presence of Nature, in whose existence man dimly forebodes\nthe Absolute, and envisages the same for himself in the semblance of\nnatural objects. In this striving Art discovers its source. We shall\nfind, however, in this very effort art first made visible, not so\nmuch where the Absolute is descried by human eyes in the external\nworld which immediately confronts them, a mode of Divine reality in\nwhich they rest content, but rather where man's consciousness evolves\nfrom its own substance a mode of apprehending what it conceives as\nthe Absolute in the form of a self-subsistent externality, no less\nthan that objective presentation which he unites with it in more or\nless adequate fashion. For we must remember that Art possesses a\nsubstantial content which is grasped by mind (spirit), and which, it\nis true, appears in external guise, but for all that in a form of\nexternality, which is not merely immediately visible to sense, but is\nprimarily the _product_ of _mind_ regarded as the existing fact which\nintrinsically comprehends that content as a whole and then expresses\nit. Art is consequently and by virtue of its power to create forms\ncognate with its own substance the _first_ interpreter of the religious\nconsciousness; it, in fact, is the first to make the prosaic view of\nthe objective world a thing valid to itself[24], when our humanity has\nfought itself essentially free as the self-consciousness of Spirit\nfrom the immediacy of sense, and sets itself over against the same in\nthe strength of the same freedom with which it accepts and understands\nthat objectivity as simply external fact and no more. This complete\nseparation of the subject and object of sense-perception is, however,\nindicative of a considerably later phase of man's spiritual history.\nThe first knowledge of truth, on the contrary, declares itself as an\nintermediate state between the purely unintelligent absorption of the\nindividual in Nature and that spiritual condition which is entirely\nreleased from it. This intermediate state, however, in which Spirit\nmerely envisages for itself its conceptions in the plastic forms of\nNature's objects because it still fails to master any form of higher\nsignificance, although it strives through such association to bring the\ntwo aspects of its experience into one homogeneous whole, is, to put\nit in its general terms, the attitude of art and poetry as contrasted\nwith that of the prosaic understanding. And for this reason we find\nthat the prosaic consciousness declares itself first in its full bloom,\nwhere, as is the case in the Roman and in later times throughout our\nown Christian world, the principle of the subjective freedom of Spirit\nis realized in its abstract and actually concrete form.\n\n2. And, _secondly_, the final _aim_ toward which the effort of symbolic\nart is directed, and with the attainment of which the symbolic type\nis dissolved, is _classical art._ But although we find in this latter\nform the true manifestation of art's essence first elaborated, it is\nnot the first type of art. Rather it presupposes within its content\nall the various mediating and transitional stages of the symbolic form\nitself. It is quite true that the essential aim of that content is to\nreveal the notion as a rounded and self-defined totality, that is in\nits concreteness and actuality as the individuality of Spirit; but\nthe notion is only then able to declare itself in such concrete form\nto conscious life after it has passed through a variety of mediatory\nstages forced upon it by the abstract conceptions which the nature of\nits own initial impulse presupposes. It is classical art, however,\nwhich brings to a close all the mere preliminary experiments of art in\nthe direction of symbolism and the sublime[25]. And it is able to do\nthis inasmuch as the subjective spirit finds in it, as its essential\npossession, a form truly adequate to its substance, and in the same\nway that the self-determining notion creates from its own potency\nthe individual existence that fully expresses it. When once Art has\ndiscovered its true content, and by doing so found its true form, its\nsearch and striving after both, wherein the defect of symbolical art\nconsists, is therewith at an end.\n\nIf we seek further for a closer principle of division of symbolic\nart within the limits of the boundaries on either extreme hitherto\ndiscussed, we shall find the same generally under the modes in\naccordance with which it contends with the genuine significances of\nart and their truly appropriate forms, the battle that is apparent\nin a content which is still striving in opposition to the truth of\nart, no less than in a form that is equally inadequate to express it.\nFor both aspects, although externally united in the identity of one\ncreation, are neither brought completely together themselves, nor\npermeated throughout with the notion of art in its truth; and for this\nreason they appear quite as much as contestants struggling to be free\nfrom the defects of their union. We may, in short, describe symbolic\nart throughout as a continuous war carried on between the comparative\nadequacy and inadequacy of its import and form[26]; and the varied\ngradations of symbolic art are not so much kinds of specific difference\nas they are stages and phases of one and the same incongruity between\nthe spiritual idea and its sensuous medium.\n\nAt first, however, this contention is only potentially present, that\nis to say the incompatibility of these two sides, whose union is thus\naffirmed and enforced, is not yet openly present to consciousness. And\nthis is so for the reason that it neither recognizes for itself in its\nuniversal nature the import which it seizes, nor is able to comprehend\nthe realized form in its self-subsistent and self-exclusive existence;\nconsequently, instead of representing to the senses both aspects\nin their _difference_, it is content to proceed upon the immediate\nappearance of _identity_ which it enforces. In this original _point\nof departure_ we have before us the as yet inseparable unity of the\nart-form and the symbolical expression it seeks after, fermenting,\nas it were, beneath the association of contradictory elements in\nmysterious guise--the unity, that is, of the real and primordial\nsymbolism, whose plastic shapes are as yet not _posited_ as symbols at\nall.\n\nThe _termination_ of this process[27], on the other hand, is the\ndisappearance and dissolution of the symbolic type altogether. The\nstrife which has hitherto been merely implied in it is now brought\nhome to the artistic consciousness. The act of symbolization in\nconsequence becomes the _conscious severation_ of the transparent\nsignificance, which is now recognized for what it is from the sensuous\nimage cognate with it. In this severation, however, there still remains\nan express relation of reciprocity, which, however, declares itself\nas such no longer in the mode of immediate identity, but rather as\na mere _comparison_ between the two, in which that differentiation\nand separation which in the previous type was not brought clearly\nto consciousness still remains as conspicuous a factor. And this is\nthe sphere of that symbolism where the symbol is recognized as such.\nHere we find the artistic import _recognized_ and presented in its\nindependent universality, whose concrete embodiment is expressly placed\nin subordination as an image of that presentment, and no more, and\nas such a comparative medium is utilized for the purpose of artistic\nrepresentation.\n\nHalfway between that starting-point above described and this\ntermination of the symbolic type we find the art of the _sublime._\nIn this the essential import, posited as the universality of Spirit\nin its absolute self-exclusion, disengages itself in the first place\nfrom concrete existence, permitting the same to appear as a mere\nnegative, external and subservient factor beside it, which it is unable\nto leave, in order that it may express itself in it, standing in its\nnative self-subsistency. Rather it finds it necessary to declare it\nas that which is essentially defective and self-dissolving, and this,\nmoreover, although it has naught beside as means for its expression\nthan just this to which it opposes itself as external and nugatory. The\nsplendour of this import of the sublime may be accepted in the order\nof the notional process as previous to that of the mode of genuine\ncomparison for this reason, that the concrete particularity of natural\nand any other phenomena must necessarily be treated in the first place\nnegatively, merely appropriated, that is to say, as the adornment\nand embellishment of the unreachable might of Spirit's absolute\nsignificance, before that express severation and discriminating\ncomparison of external shapes cognate with, and yet at the same time\ndistinct from, the import, whose image they reproduce, can assert\nitself.\n\n3. The three principal stages[28] above indicated break up naturally on\ncloser inspection into the following subdivisions we now summarize in\nthe chapters which include them.\n\n\n\nFIRST CHAPTER\n\n\nA. The _first_ stage which presents itself in this portion of\nour subject-matter is as yet neither to be described strictly as\nsymbolical, nor as belonging strictly to art; it rather clears the road\nto both. It is the sphere of the immediately cognized and substantive\nunity of the Absolute regarded as spiritual significance with its\nunsevered sensuous existence in a form presented by Nature.\n\nB. In the _second_ stage we pass to the symbol in its real sense; the\ndissolution of the first unity above described here commences, and\nwhile, on the one hand, the significances assert themselves in their\nindependent universality above the particular phenomena of Nature,\non the other they are necessarily forced with a like insistency to\npresent themselves to consciousness together with this preconceived\nuniversality in the concrete form of natural objects. In this primary\nand twofold struggle to spiritualize Nature, and to present that which\nis born of Spirit to sense, at this stage of the conflict between\nthem, we meet with all the ferment and wild, tossed hither and thither\nmedley, the entire fantastic and confused world that is to say of\nsymbolic art, which half surmises, it is true, the incongruity of its\nmanner of shaping, yet is unable to remedy the same save through the\ndistortion of its figures, while straining after a purely quantitative\nsublimity that would fain devour all limits. In this phase consequently\nwe find ourselves in a world steeped with poetic phantasies,\nincredibilities and miracle, yet fail to encounter one work of genuine\nbeauty.\n\nC. Owing to this strife between the spiritual significance and its\nsensuous presentation, we are conducted _thirdly_ to the stage we\nmay describe as that of the true symbol, on which the symbolic _work\nof art_ for the first time appears in its complete character. The\nforms and shapes are here no longer those present to sense, which,\nas we saw on the first mentioned stage, were immediately coincident\nwith the Absolute as their positive existence, without any further\nmodification at the hands of art; neither, as in the second phase,\nare they intent on asserting their unreconciled material against the\nuniversality of the significance merely through extensions of the\nquantitative limits of Nature's objects, the ebullitions of a rioting\nfancy. Rather the symbolic form, which is here throughout apparent, is\nArt's own creation, a work not merely capable of expressing its own\nindividuality, but from another point of view possessed with the power\nof presenting at the same time both the particular object that it is\nand the further universal significance with which it is associated, and\nwhich it thereby discloses to the mind, so that these very shapes stand\nbefore us as problems which we are imperatively called upon to unriddle\nand probe to the inward charge which they carry.\n\nWe may at once further venture the general remark with reference to\nthese more clearly defined types of a symbolism still to be ranked as\nelementary that they spring from the religious attitude to existence\nof entire nations; for which reason it will form part of our plan to\nrecall their position in history. Not that complete identification of\nspecific types with a given period is wholly feasible. Rather it would\nbe truer to say that particular modes of conception and presentation,\nwhen we refer them generally to some kind of artistic type, are mingled\nup together, so that we find the specific type, which we have reason to\nregard as the fundamental one in any particular nation's general view\nof existence, exemplified both in earlier and later peoples[29], though\nits repetition may only be discovered in subordinate and isolated\ncases. In general, however, we may say that we possess the more\nconcrete manifestations and visible proofs of the first stage in the\nancient _Persian_ religion of the second in the _Indian_, of the third\nin that of _Egypt_.\n\nSECOND CHAPTER\n\nIn the second chapter that significance, which has hitherto been\nmore or less obscured by its particular sensuous form, has at last\nwrested its way to freedom, and its independent character is brought\nclearly to consciousness. With this victory the relation of real\nsymbolism is dissolved; we have instead, through the way in which the\nabsolute significance[30] is cognized as the universal _substance_\ninterpenetrating the entire extension of the visible world, the art of\nthe absolute essence[31] in the form of a symbolism of the _sublime_;\nand this now takes the place of purely symbolical and fantastic\nsuggestions, deformities, and riddles.\n\nWe have here mainly two points of view to distinguish which are based\nupon differences in the relation of the substantive essence, that is\nthe Absolute and Divine, to the finitude of the apparent. Or rather we\nmay say that this relation is capable of being twofold, both _positive_\nand _negative,_ although in both forms, inasmuch as it is in either\ncase universal substance, which has to appear, it is not the particular\nform and import of the objective facts, but their general principle of\nanimation and their position relatively to this substance which is made\nvisible to sense.\n\nA. In the first phase or type this relation is so conceived, that\nsubstance, here the All and the One delivered from every form of\nparticularity, is immanent in the determinate phenomena as the\nanimating principle which brings them into being and is their life;\nand moreover, it is affirmatively and immediately present to the\nvision in this immanence, and is comprehended, and made the object of\nrepresentation by the individual who surrenders himself to its presence\nthrough the adoring self-absorption in this indwelling essence of the\nentire world of contingent and material things. In this point of view\nwe have the art of the Pantheism which possesses the Sublime as its\ninherent principle, an art such as we find it in its elementary stage\nin India, then elaborated in all its splendour in Mohammedanism and\nits artistic mysticism, and finally with still profounder significance\nreappearing in certain manifestations of Christian mysticism.\n\nB. The _negative_ relation on the other hand of true Sublimity we must\nlook for in _Hebraic_ poetry. In this poetry of the Glorious, which\nis only concerned to celebrate and exalt the unimaginable Lord of\nthe heavens and the earth that it may employ His entire creation as\nthe passing instrument of His Power, as the messengers of His Glory,\nas the delight and ornament of His Greatness, this service of His\nCreation, be it never so magnificent[32], is deliberately posited as\nnegative, and this for the reason that it is unable to discover any\nadequate or positively sufficient expression for the Power and Dominion\nof the Highest, and is only able to attain a genuine satisfaction by\nmeans of the subjection of the creature, which in the feeling and\nadmission of its unworthiness is alone able with adequacy to express\nits insignificance[33].\n\nTHIRD CHAPTER\n\nThrough this independent self-assertion of significance, made\nthus transparent to consciousness in its isolated simplicity,\nthe _severation_ of the same from the imaged appearance, whose\nincommensurability over against it has already been accepted, is now\nessentially complete; and albeit, along with the fact of this conscious\nseparation, both form and import may still persist in the relation\nof an intimate affinity, a necessity which is implied in the fact\nof their being symbolical art, yet this relation no longer attaches\nto either import or form, but is placed now in a _third_ mode of\nconception, which according to its own point of view, carries relations\nof similarity with both these sides[34], and in reliance on these\nrelations makes visible and declares the independently transparent\nsignificance by means of the cognate and particular image.\n\nOwing to this change the image, instead of remaining as it was\npreviously the unique expression of the Absolute, becomes now merely an\nornament, and we thereby discover a relation which ceases to correspond\nwith the notion of beauty. In other words image and significance,\ninstead of being moulded one within the other, confront each other as\nopposites, precisely, in fact, as was the case in genuine symbolism,\nthough then the process remained incomplete. Consequently works of\nart which are based on this form are of subordinate rank, and their\ncontent is unable to comprise the Absolute itself, and is necessarily\nrestricted to circumstances and occurrences of narrower range. For this\nreason the forms which are now under discussion are for the most part\nmerely used occasionally and by way of diversion.\n\nMore closely considered we have in this chapter to distinguish between\nthree principal stages of our process.\n\nA. To the _first_ we appropriate those types of presentation commonly\nknown as _Fable_, _Parable_, and _Apologue._ In these the severation\nof form and significance, which constitutes the characteristic trait\nof the entire sphere to which this chapter refers, is not as yet\n_expressly_ recognized; that is to say, the _subjective_ aspect of\nthe comparison is not yet fully _emphasized_; consequently also the\nrepresentation of the particular and concrete phenomenon, through which\nthe universal significance is finally to declare itself, still remains\nthe _predominant_ factor.\n\nB. In the _second_ stage, on the contrary, the universal _import_\nasserts its independent mastery over the elucidating form, which\nnow appears merely as _attribute_, or, under the guise of an image,\ncapriciously selected by the mind which makes the contrast. To this\ntype belong the _Allegory_, _Metaphor_, and _Simile_.\n\nC. In the _third_ stage we meet with the visible and complete\n_collapse_ of those related aspects in the symbol which previously had\neither been immediately joined in union, despite the fact of their\nrelative incongruity, or in their independent severation had still\npersisted under a relation of affinity[35]. Out of this arises that\nform of content which is cognized as independent in its prosaic[36]\nuniversality, to which the art-form has become wholly an external\nrelation; on the one hand we find it represented by the _didactic_\npoem, on the other that very aspect of its external form is accepted\nfor what it is, and exemplified in so-called _descriptive_ poetry. Here\nwe find that every association and relation of symbolism has vanished;\nwe have to look round us for some more comprehensive union of form and\ncontent, and one more truly adequate to the notion of art.\n\n[Footnote 5: So the French expression _des couleurs_, and our English\n\"the colours.\"]\n\n[Footnote 6: Hegel uses the 'technical term _Inhalt_ in this passage to\nsignify either (_a_) the quality of significance, or (_b_) the object\nwhich is symbolized by virtue of some selected quality. The use of it\nin both senses makes the passage somewhat difficult to follow.]\n\n[Footnote 7: _Inhalt_ here evidently is the abstract quality.]\n\n[Footnote 8: Necessarily because such ambiguity is implied in the idea\n(_seinem Begriff nach_).]\n\n[Footnote 9: This, I think, is the sense. The language literally is,\n\"Which a form under several possible significations, as symbol of any\nof which (_deren_) it can be employed often through connecting links\n(_Zusammenh\u00e4nge_) more remote, may be taken to symbolize.\"]\n\n[Footnote 10: The German words are _Begreifen_ and _Schliessen_, which\nin their original sense are \"to grasp with the hand\" (_prehendo_) and\n\"to shut\" or \"lock up.\" The English words in a still fainter form carry\nthe same significance through the Latin language. The symbolism of\nlanguage at this stage is obviously only apparent to the student of\nlanguage.]\n\n[Footnote 11: That is, more abstract.]\n\n[Footnote 12: Or in English: /# Forth on the ocean is shipped Youth\nwith his thousand sails: Silent in bark barely saved steals into\nharbour old age. #/]\n\n[Footnote 13: _Substantielle_, that is, an artistic consciousness which\nis aware of its own essential nature--Spirit, and the object of pure\nintelligence--the Ideal.]\n\n[Footnote 14: Perhaps we should rather say a Theosophy.]\n\n[Footnote 15: The Alexandrine School, of which Plotinus and Philo are\nleading names.]\n\n[Footnote 16: _Ein allgemeiner Gedanke._ The reference throughout\nthis paragraph to the universality of the ideas of reflection as\ncontrasted with the sensuous image is rather a reference to the\nabstract conceptions of the analytical mind, that is, which are usually\nunderstood as universals in the sense of generic conceptions, than\nany fuller grasp of concrete reality such as possesses a truly ideal\nsignificance. So in its application to the metaphor I imagine what is\nmeant is that we have here the process of dry analysis which merely\ndestroys its significance as metaphor, that is, its synthetic unity for\nour aesthetic sense.]\n\n[Footnote 17: _Ist aufgehoben_, here not in the sense of being\ncancelled, but raised to the expression of concrete unity.]\n\n[Footnote 18: _Als blosse Personification_, that is, an\nindividualization which impersonates the subjective identity without\npossessing its concrete substance, a personified shadow like the\nsphinx. Such appears to be the sense.]\n\n[Footnote 19: Because the content for which such shapes (_Gestaltung_)\nare given is itself incoherent, and therefore incompatible with\nadequate expression.]\n\n[Footnote 20: _Sichhervorarbeiten._ Our word \"elaborate\" is here\ninsufficient. Hegel means the mode in which the Idea of art works\nitself free from entirely potential obscurity into a living force,\na real _energeia._ We cannot say \"emerges into daylight,\" however,\nbecause the highest grasp of symbolic art is still only a twilight. It\nis like the growth of the plant-germ, still underground, or partially\nso.]\n\n[Footnote 21: _Pracktischen._ Not matter-of-fact relation, but rather a\nrelation that asserts itself exclusively in action.]\n\n[Footnote 22: _Als Grund_, that is, as a fundamental unity of the real.]\n\n[Footnote 23: _Die erste n\u00e4her gestaltende Dollmetcherin_, lit., the\nfirst interpreter which supplies forms more nearly cognate with itself.]\n\n[Footnote 24: It is valid (_geltend_) because it introduces there its\nown spiritual nature.]\n\n[Footnote 25: The previous statement of Hegel must not be overlooked,\nhowever, and it may be considerably amplified, that there is much in\nromantic art which is related to symbolism and the sublime. Take the\ncase of the celebrated sculpture of Michael Angelo typifying Night,\nDay, Dawn, and Twilight, or such modern pictures as those of Watts's\n\"The Minotaur\" and \"The Spirit of Christianity.\"]\n\n[Footnote 26: Or rather \"between those aspects of its import and form\nwhich are reciprocally homogeneous and those which are not.\"]\n\n[Footnote 27: This process of symbolic art.]\n\n[Footnote 28: _Hauptstufen._ The word signifies either the phase or\ngrade of a process of development, or to take the metaphor used by\nHegel above (_Stadien_) may perhaps be better translated by \"stage,\" as\nthough indicating the successive stages of a journey.]\n\n[Footnote 29: I think _V\u00f6lkern_ rather than _Zeiten_ must be here\nunderstood, and the sense appears to be that the confusion indicated\nrefers to a mingling of forms appropriate to a nation in one historical\nperiod with those that are more cognate with a people at any earlier\nor it may be later period. But unquestionably this attempt to identify\na type as between different nations with historical periods that will\nharmonize with Hegel's own classification is a difficult matter as we\nmay see by the fact that Egypt, the oldest example of all, represents\nthe third stage. On the other hand, if the confusion referred to is\napplied to the particular development of any one people, the examples\ngiven by Hegel do not bear on the difficulty they illustrate.]\n\n[Footnote 30: Or rather \"the import of the Absolute.\"]\n\n[Footnote 31: _Substantiality_, called below _die Substanz_; the word\nsignifies the real essence of the Absolute.]\n\n[Footnote 32: The principal clause of this sentence has no end as\nprinted. The auxiliary must be omitted either before _in diesem\nDienste_ or _eine positive._ I prefer the first alternative.]\n\n[Footnote 33: The relative here agrees, I think, with _die\nDienstbarkeit_ rather than _die Kreatur_ or _die Poesie._ Hegel says\n\"compatible with itself and its significance,\" we should rather say\n\"its sense of its own insignificance.\"]\n\n[Footnote 34: Hegel's words are _sondern in einem subjectiven Dritten_,\n_welches in beiden Seiten nach seiner subjectiven Anschauung_, etc.\nThis \"subjective third\" is, as explained below, the way in which the\nrelation between the image and the absolute significance ceases to be\nregarded as identical.]\n\n[Footnote 35: This sentence as it stands is ungrammatical; there is a\nchange in the construction as it proceeds.]\n\n[Footnote 36: The prosaic universality is the prose of its form\nseparated from content. It is prosaic because it is unrelated to the\nvitality of the notion.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n\nUNCONSCIOUS SYMBOLISM\n\n\nNow that we pass to the consideration of the several distinctions\nof symbolical art in more detail, we have to make a beginning with\nthe identical beginning of art as it proceeds out of the notion of\nart itself. This commencement, as we have seen, is the symbolical\nform of art in its still immediate form wherein the appearance,\nas purely image or likeness, is neither brought to consciousness\nnor presupposed--_unconscious symbolism_, that is to say. Before,\nhowever, we shall be in a position to consider this form in its\ngenuine symbolical character, it will be necessary to review several\npresuppositions which the notion of symbolism itself determines in\norder that we may utilize them for the basis upon which the symbol may\nunfold itself for scientific apprehension.\n\nThe point from which we make a start may be defined more closely as\nfollows:\n\nThe fundamental root of the symbol is, regarding it from one aspect,\nthe immediate union of the universal and thereby spiritual significance\nwith the form which may at the same time be described as adequate and\ninadequate, an inadequacy, however, which is as yet unperceived. This\nassociation, however, must, on the other hand, receive a form from the\n_imagination_ and _art_, and must not _merely_ be conceived as a Divine\nreality exclusively immediate to sense. By this means the symbolical\noriginates in the first instance with the _severation_ of a universal\nimport from the immediate _presence of Nature_, in whose existence the\nAbsolute is contemplated as actually present. These two aspects supply\nus with the preliminary stages for the genuine forms of symbolic art.\n\nThe _first_ presupposition consequently--we may call it the coming\ninto being of the symbolical--is not that union which is the product\nof art, but rather just that immediate unity of the Absolute and True\nand its existence, which is discovered in the visible world apart from\nart's mediation.\n\nA. IMMEDIATE UNITY OF SIGNIFICANCE AND FORM\n\nIn this identity of the Divine immediately envisualized, a Divine,\nwhich is brought home to consciousness as the union of its determinate\nexistence in Nature and humanity, Nature is neither taken simply for\nthat which it is in isolation by itself, nor is the Absolute severed\nfrom it and posited in an independent self-subsistence. Consequently it\nis wholly beside the point to speak of a distinction here between the\nInward and the External, the significance and the form, and this for\nthe reason that the Inward is not as yet released in its independence\nas significance from its immediate reality in the object of sense. When\nwe apply here the expression import[37], such merely emphasizes our\n_own_ reflection upon it, which is due to the necessity for ourselves\npersonally to regard the form, which contains that which is spiritual\nand inward under the mode of sense-perception, generally as something\nexternal to us, through which we are desirous of penetrating into\nthe Inward, that is, its animating life and significance, in order\nthat we may understand it. For this reason we are under the necessity\nfrom the very first, when dealing with such general impressions of\nsense-perception, of making an essential demarcation between those\ncases in which the peoples, who in the first instance experienced\nthem, themselves were clearly conscious of this Inward itself as such,\nthat is, as a spiritual significance, and those in which the use of\nsuch expressions is only applicable to ourselves, who now and only\nnow recognize an import of this kind in the content of that external\nexpression of sense-envisagement.\n\nIn this primary unity such as the latter cases involve, there is\nno such distinction between soul and body, notion and reality, as\nis implied in the former. That which we describe as corporeal and\nsensuous, natural and human, is not merely an expression for a\nsignificance which proceeds at the same time to a point of distinction\nfrom it[38]; but the phenomenon is itself conceived as the immediate\nreality and presence of the Absolute, which does not in addition\npossess some other mode of self-subsistent existence, but is confined\nexclusively to the immediate presence of an object of sense, which\nis God or the Divine. In the service of the Lama, for example, this\nparticular, actual human being is immediately known and adored as\nGod, just as in other natural religions the sun, mountains, rivers,\nthe moon, particular animals, such as the bull, ape, and so on, are\nlooked upon as immediately Divine existences and worshipped as sacred.\nWe may observe a similar directness, if under a mode of profounder\napplication, even now in many aspects of the Christian consciousness.\nAccording to Catholic doctrine, for example, the consecrated bread\nis the real body, and the wine the real blood of God, and Christ is\nimmediately present therein; nay, even according to the Lutheran faith,\nboth bread and wine are converted into such real body and blood by\nvirtue of the faith of the recipient. In this mystical union it is not\nmerely a symbolism which is expressed, a point of view which comes into\nprominence as the result of it for the first time in later doctrines\nof the reformed Church, where we find as a result the spiritual\nsignificance is expressly severed from the sensuous object, and the\nexternal medium is then accepted as merely pointing to an import which\nis distinct from itself. In the same way the power of this Divine is\nheld to operate in the miracle-working images of the Virgin as a Divine\nforce that is immediately present within them, and not merely under\nsymbolical guise through the significant import of such pictures.\n\nWe find, however, the most thorough and universal exemplification of\nthis absolute and immediate unity of sense-perception in the life and\nreligion of the ancient Zend-people, whose conceptions and institutions\nare preserved for us in the Zend-Avesta.\n\n1. In other words the religion of Zoroaster beholds Light in the form\nof its natural existence, the sun, stars, and fire in the luminous\nactivity and flames which proceed from them, actually as the Absolute,\nwithout separating this Divine independently from that Light either as\nits expression and image or the sensuous medium thereof. The Divine,\nthe significance, is not thus severed from its determinate existence\nin the form of lights, however displayed. For even when light is\naccepted here in the sense of Goodness and Justice, and through such\nsignificance is extended to all that is rich in blessing, support,\nand life, it is still not taken as the mere image of such things, but\nLight is itself the Good. And the same view applies to the opposite of\nlight, namely, obscurity and darkness when identified with that which\nis unclean, hurtful, evil, destructive, and deadly.\n\nThis point of view may be more closely defined and considered as\nfollows:\n\n(_a_) In the first instance the Divine, as the essential purity\nof Light[39], and the Darkness and Unclean are, it is true,\n_personified_ under the names of Ormuzd and Ahriman respectively.\nThis personification is, however, throughout entirely superficial.\nOrmuzd is no essentially free individuality devoid of all relation to\nexternal objects[40] as was the God of the Jews, or truly spiritual and\npersonal as is the God of Christianity when conceived as truly personal\nand self-conscious Spirit; rather Ormuzd, despite the fact that he is\ndescribed also as king, great spirit and judge, remains inseparable\nfrom such external existence as Light and its illuminations. He is\nexclusively this universal characteristic of all particular existences,\nin which light and thereby the Divine and Pure are realized, without\nany additional power to withdraw himself in a spiritual universality\nand independence into his own substance from that which is thus\nimmediately presented. His consistence rests in the particular facts\nof existence precisely in an analogous way to that of the genus in the\nspecies. It is true that regarded as this universal he is superior to\nall that is wholly particular, and is the first, most supreme, the\nkings of kings glorious in his gold, the purest and so forth; but he\nretains his existence none the less exclusively in all that is luminous\nand pure as Ahriman in all that is obscure, evil, destructive, and\ncharged with disease.\n\n(_b_) As a result this mode of vision is at the same time extended to\nthe conception of an _empire_ of light and darkness, and the strife\nbetween these forces. In the empire of Ormuzd it is in the first place\nthe Amschaspands, as the seven principal lights of heaven, which\nreceive adoration as Divinity, inasmuch as they are the essential\nparticular existences of Light, and for this reason constitute as a\npure and spacious empeopled heaven, the existence of the Divine itself.\nEvery Amschaspand, to which Ormuzd belongs, has assigned to it days\nof precedence, blessing, and beneficence. The Izeds and Ferners carry\nthe conception still further into specification, which it is probable\nenough are personifications of Ormuzd himself, albeit they add to him\nno further shape that we may envisage as human, so that neither the\nspiritual nor the bodily mode of subjectivity, but simply the existence\nas light, appearance, illumination, splendour, remains the essential\ncharacteristic of the object envisaged.\n\nIn the same way also the particular objects of Nature, which themselves\ndo not exist in external form as lights and luminous bodies, such\nas animals, plants, and so forth, no less than the forms which\ncharacterize the human world, whether we view it under its spiritual\nor bodily presentment, in other words the particular activities and\nconditions of it, the entire life of the state, the king with the seven\ngreat men who support him, the division of classes, cities, the various\nprovinces with their governors, all that is warranted by experience\nas typical of the best and purest for the protection of the rest--the\nentire reality, in fact, of this life is regarded as an existence of\nOrmuzd. For everything that carries within itself and promulgates\nwhat has solidity, life, and substance is an existence of Light and\nPurity, and consequently an existence of Ormuzd; every particular\ntruth, excellence, love, justness, every individual example of life,\nbeneficence, protection, spiritual power and enjoyment or benignity\nis, according to Zoroaster, regarded as essentially Light and Divine.\nThe empire of Ormuzd is the Pure and Illuminating of visible reality;\nand conformably to this there is no distinction between the phenomena\nof Nature or Spirit, just as Light and Goodness, the spiritual and the\nsensuous quality, are inseparably blended in the conception of Ormuzd\nhimself. The _splendour_ of a creature is consequently for Zoroaster\nthe very substance of spirit, force, and life-exhalations of every\nkind, in so far, that is, as they tend to actual conservation and to\nthe removal of everything positively evil and hurtful, for that which\nis the Real and the Good, whether in beast, man, or vegetable life, is\nLight, and it is according to the measure and mode of display of this\nluminousness that the relative power or weakness of the splendour of\nall objects is determined.\n\nAn articulation and graduated division of similar character is found\nin the empire of Ahriman, merely with the difference that what is\nspiritually or naturally evil, and generally the destructive and\nactively negative principle asserts itself in actual masterdom. But the\nmight of Ahriman must not be suffered to spread; the aim of the entire\nworld is consequently assumed to be that of annihilating the Empire of\nAhriman, in order that the life, presence, and dominion of Ormuzd may\nprevail throughout creation.\n\n(_c_) To this exclusive object the entire life of humanity is\nconsecrate. The life-task of every man consists exclusively in a\npurification of soul and body, and in the extension of this blessing\nand this conflict with Ahriman throughout all the conditions and\nactivities of the life of man or Nature. The highest and most sacred\nduty is consequently to glorify Ormuzd in his creation, and to love,\nhonour, and conform oneself to all that proceeds from his Light and is\nessentially pure. Ormuzd is the beginning and end of all adoration.\nAbove all else the Parsee is moved to summon the life of Ormuzd in\nthought and speech; he is the main object of his prayers. And in the\nexaltation of him, from whom the entire world of the Pure has streamed\nin its splendour, the devotee is in duty bound to accommodate his\nadoration of particular objects according to the measure in which they\nproclaim his majesty, worth, and perfection. So far as they are good\nand ring sound, to that extent, the Parsee reasons with himself, is\nOrmuzd alive within them; he loves them as the children of his purity,\nyea, rejoices over them as in the beginning of his substance, forasmuch\nas through him was everything brought forth in newness and purity.\nAnd for the same reason is all prayer directed first and foremost to\nthe Amschaspands as the most intimate reflections of Ormuzd, as the\nprimates of supreme splendour who surround his throne and advance his\ndominion. Such prayer to these heavenly spirits is immediately directed\nto their qualities and activities, and in the case of stars at the\ntime of their uprising. The sun is invoked by day, and always with the\nchanges appropriate to his own motion through sunrise, noonday, or\nsunset. From morning till noonday the devotion of the Parsee centres in\nthis that Ormuzd may exalt his splendour; at evening he prays that the\nsun may through Ormuzd and the protecting care of every Tzed perfect\nthe course of his life. But principally we find honour paid to Mithras,\nwho, as the fruit-bringer to the Earth and the wilderness, pours forth\nthe fermenting sap over all Nature, and as mighty champion against all\nthe Devas of contention, war, confusion, and destruction, is the author\nof peace.\n\nIn addition to this the Parsee, in his generally single-toned songs\nof praise, exalts his ideals, that is, the purest and most veritable\nexamples of human life, the Ferver conceived as pure human spirits, on\nwhatever portion of the Earth's surface they live or have lived. In\nthe chief place prayer is offered to the pure spirit of Zoroaster, and\nafter him to the leading lights of all classes, cities, and provinces;\nand already in this religion, we find that the spirits of all mankind\nare contemplated as united together with a sufficient bond in that they\nare members in the living association of Light, which hereafter in\nGorotman shall receive a yet more perfect union.\n\nFinally, not even the animals, mountains, and vegetable world are\nforgotten, but are appealed to as embodiments of Ormuzd; all that is\ngood and serviceable in them to mankind is extolled, and especially the\nfirst and most excellent of its kind is adored as the present existence\nof Deity. And over and above this worship of Ormuzd and of every form\nof selected excellence among the pure and beneficent objects of his\ncreation the Zend-Avesta is insistent upon the _practice_ of goodness\nand the purity of thought, word, and deed. The Parsee is to be in the\nentire display of his external and inward man as Light, as Ormuzd, the\nAmschaspands, and the Izeds, as Zoroaster and all good men live and do.\nSuch live and have lived in the Light, and all their deeds are Light;\ntherefore shall every man make them an example to his eyes and follow\nafter the same. The more purity of light and goodness man expresses\nin his life and accomplishment, the nearer he stands to those spirits\nof heaven. As the Izeds throw the blessing of their beneficence over\neverything, are a source of life and fruitfulness and friendship, so,\ntoo, he must seek to purify Nature, to ennoble her, and to reach abroad\nthe light of life and the joy of plenteousness. In accordance therewith\nhe shall feed the hungry, tend the sick, offer the drink of consolation\nto the thirsty, give roof and shelter to the wanderer, provide pure\nseed for the Earth, delve clean channels of water, plant the waste with\ntrees, nourish to the best of his power their growth, care for the\nsustenance and fructification of things alive, keep pure the lambency\nof fire, remove from sight the dead and unclean beast, establish\nmarriages, and in the doing thereof the holy Sapandomad, the Ized of\nthe Earth, herself rejoices, averting the harm which the Devas and the\nDarvands are busy to prepare.\n\n2. If we ask ourselves once more, after this delineation in outline\nof the fundamental conceptions of this system, what is the symbolical\ncharacter of the same there can be but one reply, namely, that there is\nno trace here of anything we have previously described as symbolical.\nOn the one side, no doubt, we have light in its obvious natural form,\nand on the other it possesses the further significance of all that\nis rich in goodness, blessing, and permanence. It is, therefore,\npossible to contend that the actual existence of light is merely an\nimage cognate with this universal significance, which interpenetrates\nevery part of the world of Nature and mankind. If we apply such an\ninterpretation to the conception of Parsees themselves we shall find\nsuch a separation of existence and its import to be false; for these\nthe Light as Light is actually the Good, and is so apprehended that\nit is in the form of light present and active in everything that is\ngood, vital, and positive. The universal and Divine is carried no\ndoubt through the distinctions of the world of particular objects,\nbut in this its differentiated and particularized existence, the\nsubstantial and inseparable unity of import and form remains constant,\nand the distinctions that are involved in this unity do not affect the\ndifference of significance _qu\u00e2_ significance, and its manifestation,\nbut only the distinguishing features of particular objects, such as\nstars, organic life, human opinions and actions, in which the Divine as\nLight or Darkness is immediately open to sense.\n\nIn the further embrace of such conceptions there are no doubt points\nof connection with incipient symbolism, but we get out of them no real\ntype of that mode of viewing things in its completeness; they will only\npass muster as isolated traits in its direction. To such effect Ormuzd\nis on one occasion made to say of his beloved one Dschemschid: \"The\nholy Ferver of Dschemschid, the son of Vivengham, was great before me.\nHis hand received from me a dagger, whose sharpness was gold, and whose\nshaft was gold. Therewith Dschemschid marked out three hundred portions\nof the Earth. He split up the Earth-realm with his gold-plate, yea,\nwith his dagger and spake: 'Let Sapandomad rejoice.' He spake the holy\nword with prayer to the tame cattle and the wild and unto men. So his\npassing through was happiness and blessing for these lands and animals\nof the home and the field, and men ran together into great dwellings.\"\nHere we find in the dagger, and the cleaving of the Earth-soil an image\nwhich may be interpreted as significant of agriculture. Agriculture\nis still no essentially spiritual activity, and just as little is it\na purely natural one; it is rather a universal occupation of mankind,\nwhich results from reflective thought and experience, and which has\npoint of association with all the relations of life. It is no doubt\nnever expressly stated in this conception of the passing of Dschemschid\nthat this splitting of the Earth with the dagger indicates agriculture;\nnor is there a single word added of any increase of the fruits of the\nfield by virtue of this division; for the reason, however, that in\nthis particular act more appears to be included than the mere turning\nover and loosening of the soil, we are led to look for a further\nsignificance beneath it. The same observations apply to more recent\nconceptions, such as we find exemplified in the later elaboration of\nthe worship of Mithras, where Mithras is represented as a youth who\nin the dusk of a grotto raises on high the bull's head and plunges\na dagger in his neck, whereon a serpent licks up the blood, and a\nscorpion gnaws his genitals. This symbolical account has received\nan astronomical and other interpretations. We may, however, find in\nit a still more universal and profounder meaning, and take the bull\ngenerally to personify the principle of Nature, over which man, as\nessentially spirit, secures the victory, and this though astronomical\nassociations may also be implied in it. That, however, such a\nrevolution as the victory of Spirit over Nature is contained in it is\nalso suggested by the name of Mithras, or mediator, more especially\nif we refer it to a later period when such uplifting over Nature was\nalready a necessity present to the national consciousness. Symbols such\nas the above, however, as already observed, only incidentally come to\nthe fore in the conceptions of the ancient Parsees, and do not in any\nway constitute a principle for their fundamental type of thought.\n\nStill less can we describe the cultus, which the Zend-Avesta\ninculcates, as one of symbolical tendency. We find no trace here,\nfor example, of symbolical dances in celebration or imitation of the\ninterlaced revolutions of the stars; as little any other forms of\nactivity which may pass as the suggestive counterfeit of universal\nconceptions; rather all actions which are prescribed to the Parsee as\nimperative in a religious sense are matters directly concerned with the\nactual enlargement of his purity, either of soul or body, and appear as\ndirected with one intent and one object of realization, namely, that of\nincreasing the actual dominion of Ormuzd over men and the objects of\nNature, an object consequently which is not merely symbolized in such\nactivity, but entirely carried out.\n\n3. For the reason, then, that a genuine symbolic type fails absolutely\nwhen applied to this religious system, it is equally destitute of a\ntrue _artistic_ character. No doubt we may generally describe its mode\nof conception as _poetical_ for the particular facts of Nature are\njust as little as the particular sentiments, circumstances, acts, and\naffairs of men treated in their immediate and consequently haphazard\nand prosaic relation which is void of all significance, and are rather\ncontemplated essentially in the Absolute as very Light; or to put it\nthe other way, the universal essence of the concrete reality of Nature\nand mankind is not conceived in the universality which is without\nexistence or form, but this universal and that particular is envisaged\nand expressed in immediate union. Such a mode of viewing existence\nmay possibly claim a certain beauty, breadth, and largeness of its\nown, and in contrast to gross and senseless idols Light is no doubt\nas the essentially pure and universal element, an adequate image of\nGoodness and Truth. But for all that we find that poetry here fails\nto pass beyond a general conception; it never reaches either art or\nthe works of art. For the Good and the Divine are neither essentially\ndefined, nor is the consistency and form of this content a creation of\nmind (Spirit); but rather, as we have already found, the thing which\nis immediately present to sense, namely, the actual sun, stars, fire,\norganic nature, throughout its vegetation, animal and human life, is\nconceived as the appropriate form of the Absolute in this its existent\nand _immediate_ shape. The sensuous representation is not, as Art\nrequires, the plastic product of mind, shaped and discovered by the\nsame, but immediately identified with and expressed by the external\nexistent shape as its appropriate counterfeit. It is quite true, in\nanother aspect, the particular thing is, by means of the imagination,\nalso fixed in an independent relation to its reality, as, for instance,\nin the Izeds and Fervers, that is, in the genii of particular men; the\npoetic invention, however, discovered in this incipient severation\nis of the weakest kind for the reason that the distinction remains\nentirely of a formal character, so that the genius, Ized or Ferver,\nneither includes nor is able to include any real characteristic\ncontent of its own, but, instead of this, either repeats one identical\ncontent or possesses nothing more than the purely empty form of the\nsubjectivity, which the existing individual already possesses. The\nproduct of the imagination here is consequently neither an other and\nprofounder significance nor the self-subsistent form of an essentially\nricher individuality. And when we moreover find particular objects\nenvisaged on the wider plane of general conceptions and generic types,\nto which, as appropriate to such types, the imagination vouchsafes a\nreal existence, even here also this uplifting of multiplicity into the\nsphere of an all-comprehending and essential unity, regarded as the\nbasic core and substance of the individuals that constitute the same\nspecies and genus, can only in a yet more indefinite sense be accepted\nas an activity of the imagination, no real exemplification of either\npoetry or art. So we have, for instance, in the holy fire of Behram the\nessence of fire; and in the same way there is a water that underlies\nall existent water. So, too, Horn is esteemed as the first, purest,\nand most stalwart among trees, the primordial tree from which the\nlife-sap full of immortality flows; and among all mountains Albordsch,\nthe sacred mountain, is set before us as the primaeval root of the\nEarth, erect in the splendour of the Light, from which the good deeds\nof all men proceed, who have possessed the knowledge of Light, and\non whom the sun, moon, and stars repose. In general, however, we may\naffirm that the universal is visibly known in immediate union with the\nactual objects of sense, and it is merely now and again that universal\nconceptions are embodied in the particular image.\n\nIn yet more prosaic fashion does the cultus of this religion make\nas its principal object the dominion of Ormuzd a reality which\ninterpenetrates all things, merely requiring this one essential\ncondition to the adequacy of every object, namely, its purity, and\nwithout attempting therewith to construct from such any existent\nform of art that is based upon immediate life, as, for example, the\nwarriors and wrestlers of Greece were so ready to do in their artistic\nelaboration of physical perfection.\n\nFrom whatever side, then, or whatever may be the point of view from\nwhich we regard this first unity of spiritual universality and sensuous\nreality, we only get from it the _basis_ of symbolical art; it still\nfails to possess a real symbolism of its own, and is unable to produce\nworks of art. In order that we may attain this object, which is the\nnext in view, we must pass away from the union we have just considered,\nand examine modes of conception where the _difference_ and _conflict_\nbetween significance and form is more really emphasized.\n\n\n\nB. FANTASTIC SYMBOLISM\n\n\nQuitting now the sphere of thought in which the identity of the\nAbsolute and its externally envisaged existence is immediately\ncognized, we have, as an essential determination to start from, the\nseveration of these two aspects hitherto united, a _cleavage_ which\nstimulates the effort to restore once more the visible breach by means\nof an elaborate fusing together of the whole thus divided by a rich\nuse of the images of phantasy. With this attempt the essential need\nfor art is felt for the first time. No sooner has the imagination\nsucceeded in holding fast its envisaged content, which is no longer\ngrasped in immediate union with the objects of sense, in isolated\nseparation from that existence, than for the first time spirit is\nconfronted with the task of reclothing with the material of phantasy\nfor sensuous perception, that is, under the renewed mode of a spiritual\nproduct, these general conceptions and of creating through this\nactivity the shapes of art. And for the reason that in the stage of\nour process where we now find ourselves, this task is capable of only\na symbolic solution, we may easily fall under the impression that\nwe stand already in the sphere of genuine symbolism. This, however,\nis not the case. What immediately faces us here are the forms of a\nfermenting phantasy[41], which in the restlessness of its fantastic\ndreams merely indicates the path which conducts us to the real centre\nof symbolical art. In the first appearance of the distinguishing\nrelation between significance and the mode of its presentation, both\nthe severation and the association are still grasped in a confused\nmanner. This confusion is necessitated by the fact that neither of\nthe parted aspects of difference have as yet attained a totality,\ncapable of emphasizing the precise point in the process, which will\nserve as the fundamental determination of the opposed side in it,\nand by means of which for the first,time a really adequate union and\nreconciliation is rendered possible. Spirit (mind), to illustrate our\ndifficulty further, determines by virtue of its own totality the\nside of the external phenomenon out of its own essential substance\nquite as really as it does its own spiritual content for the obvious\nreason that the essentially complete and independent phenomenon only\nreceives its adequate form as the external existence of that which is\nspiritual. In the case, however, of this primary severation of the\nsignificances apprehended by mind, and the existent world of phenomena\nsuch aspects of significance are not those of concrete spiritual life,\nbut abstractions, and this expression also is entirely destitute\nof spiritual intension, and is consequently, in an abstract sense,\npurely external and sensuous. This twofold impulse in the direction of\ndisunion and union is for the same reason an unsteady gait[42], which\nranges from the objects of sense in undefined and unmeasured waste\nimmediately to the aspects of universal import, and is only able to\ndiscover for the inward content of consciousness the absolutely opposed\nform of sensuous shapes. And it is this very contradiction which is\nset forth as a means of really uniting elements which contradict each\nother. The result is that instead of so doing it is first driven from\none side of the opposition into the other, and then again is hurled in\nits ceaselessly alternating dance into the former extreme, while it\nbelieves that in this rocking to and fro of its strain it has found\nthe means to lull itself to repose. Instead of getting, therefore, a\ntrue satisfaction we have the _contradiction_ merely affirmed as its\ngenuine resolution, and in addition the union most incomplete of all\nis set forth as that which art really requires. We must not therefore\nexpect to find in such a field of confusion worse confounded the true\nforms of beauty. In this restless leap from one opposed extreme to the\nother all that we find from one point of view in the sensuous material\nthat is absorbed, regarding the same in its singularity no less than as\nit constitutes its elementary appearance to sense, is that the breadth\nand potency of every import of universality is associated therewith\nin what must consequently be a wholly inadequate way. From another\naspect that which is most universal, as soon as the process has passed\nfrom the same, is shamelessly plunged under the reverse treatment\ninto the very heart of the sensuous present; and if any feeling of\nthe incompatibility of such an effort is consciously perceived, the\nimagination here is only capable of rendering assistance by means of\ndistortions which carry the particular shapes over and beyond their own\nsecure boundaries, adding to their extension, making them ever more\nindefinite, by an imaginative leap which mounts to the immeasurable,\nbreaks up every bond of union, and in its very strain after\nreconciliation reveals each opposing factor in its most unmitigated\nhostility[43].\n\nThese earliest and still most uncontrolled attempts of imagination and\nart we meet most signally among the ancient races of India, the main\ndefect of whose productions, when viewed relatively to their particular\nposition at this stage of our classification, consists in this, that\nthey are neither able to seize the profounder aspects of significance\nin independent clarity, nor grasp the reality of sense-perception in\nits characteristic form and meaning. The Hindoo race has consequently\nproved itself unable to comprehend either persons or events as parts\nof continuous history, because to any historical treatment a certain\nsoberness is essential of accepting and understanding facts in their\ntrue and independent form, and subject to their mediating links,\ngrounds, causes, and objects, being empirically ascertained. The\nnatural impulse to refer all and everything back to the Divine is\nhostile to this prosaic reasonableness, no less than its tendency to\nprefigure for itself in the most ordinary or most sensuous of objects\na presence and reality of godhead created by its own imagination.\nThese peoples consequently, through their confused intermingling of\nthe Finite and the Absolute, in which the logical order and permanence\nof the prosaic facts of ordinary consciousness are disregarded\naltogether, despite all the profusion and extraordinary boldness of\ntheir conceptions, fall into a levity of fantastic mirage which is\nquite as remarkable, a flightiness which dances from the most spiritual\nand profoundest matters to the meanest trifle of present experience, in\norder that it may interchange and confuse immediately the one extreme\nwith the other.\n\nIf we concentrate our attention more closely upon the more conspicuous\nfeatures of this continuous bout of intoxication, this craze and\ncondition of craze, what we are concerned with is not to trace\nreligious conceptions as such, but merely to emphasize the points of\nprominence which relate such modes of conception with art. These may be\nindicated as follows:\n\n1. One extreme of the consciousness of the Hindoo is the consciousness\nof the Absolute, here regarded as the essentially and absolutely\nUniversal, undifferentiated and consequently wholly indefinite. This\nsupreme of abstractions, inasmuch as it is neither in possession of\na particular content, nor is conceived under the mode of concrete\npersonality, is, from whatever side you may look at it, no object at\nall that the imagination acting through the senses can reclothe for\nart. Brahman[44], taken in a general sense as this supreme Godhead, is\nabsolutely removed from the sensuous and sense-perception, or rather is\nnot even an object for Thought. For self-consciousness is inseparable\nfrom thought, which posits itself as an object of Thought, in order\nthat it may thus come to self-knowledge. Every act of intelligence\nis an identification of the ego and object, a reconciliation of\nthat which is severed outside from this relation of recognition;\nwhat I do not understand remains as something strange and foreign\nto myself. The mode of union, under the Hindoo conception, of human\npersonality with Brahman is nothing more nor less than a continually\nascending process of exhaustion[45] in the direction of this supreme\nof abstractions, in which not merely the entire concrete content, but\nalso self-consciousness itself, must be eliminated before the final\nconsummation is realized. Or, to put the same thing another way, the\nHindoo recognizes no reconciliation and identity with Brahman in\nthe sense that the spirit of humanity becomes _conscious_ of this\nunion. The unity rather consists in this, that both consciousness\nand self-consciousness, and with them the entire content of the\nobjective world and personality totally disappears. This emptying\nand annihilation to the point of absolute vacuity is treated as the\nsupreme condition under which man is capable of identity with highest\nDivinity, that is Brahman. An abstraction of this sort, one of the\nbarest it is possible to imagine, whether we consider it from the\npoint of view of the Absolute, as Brahman, or from the human aspect\nof a purely theoretically conceived cultus that consists in man's\nself-evaporation[46] and self-annihilation, is in itself no object\neither for the imagination or art; all the latter can do is to profit\nby such opportunity as various imaginary representations of what\nhappens by the way to this goal may offer for their exercise.\n\n2. Conversely the Hindoo view of existence launches itself with\njust the same immediacy over this very abstraction from all sense\ninto the wildest flood of it. Inasmuch, however, as the immediate\nand consequently unbroken identity of both sides is in this view\ncancelled, and instead of this the element of _difference_ within\nthis identity has become the basic principle of the type itself, this\nvery contradiction plunges us with no mediating connections from the\nFinite into the Divine, and again from this latter into what is most\ntransitory of all; and we live and move among _simulacra_, which rise\nup entirely as the growth of this alternating process, a kind of\nwitches' world, where the definition of every shape eludes our grasp as\nwe endeavour to seize it, is converted all at once into its opposite,\nor straddles away into mere inflated enormities.\n\nThe general modes under which Hindoo art manifests itself may be\nsummarized under the three following points of view:\n\n(_a_) In the first place we find the full hugeness of the content of\nthe Absolute is imposed by the imagination upon the _sensuous_ in its\naspect of singularity in such a way that this particular thing is\nitself, in its own form and station, taken completely to represent\nsuch a content and to exist as such for the imaginative sense. In the\nR\u00e2m\u00e2yana, for example, the friend of R\u00e2ma, namely, the prince of apes\nHanuman, is a principal personage, and he accomplishes the bravest\nof exploits. And generally we may observe that among the Hindoos the\nape is revered as Divine, and we find, in fact, an entire city of\napes. In the ape, as this point of singularity, the infinite content\nof the Absolute is envisaged and adored. It is just the same with\nthe cow, Sabal\u00e2, which in the R\u00e2m\u00e2yana during the episodic treatment\nof the expiations of Visvamitra, appears clothed with immeasurable\npower. If we take a glance on higher planes we find entire families\nin India--even though the individual here be merely a vacant and\nmonotonously vegetating life-unit--in whom the Absolute itself, as\nthis concrete reality, is adored in its immediate life and presence as\nGod. This same coincidence is found in Lamaism. Here, too, a single\nindividual receives the highest worship due to the present God. In\nIndia, however, this honour is not exclusively paid to one man. Every\nBrahmin proves at once his claim from the day of his birth in his own\ncaste to be ranked as Brahman, and possesses that second birth of the\nSpirit which identifies his humanity with God, in the way of Nature\nthrough his actual bodily birth, so that the crown of the most Divine\nitself is immediately referred back upon the entirely commonplace\nfact of physical existence. For although the Brahmin is under the\nmost sacred obligation to read the Ved\u00e2s, and attain by this means an\ninsight into the secrets of Deity, this duty can be actually carried\nout in the most perfunctory way without detracting in the least from\nthe Brahmin's own divinity. In a similar manner it is one of the modes\nmost common to the representations of Hindooism to have the primordial\nGod set forth as the procreator or begetter, as we find Eros is in the\ncase of Greek mythology. This procreation as Divine activity is further\nworked into all kinds of representations in a wholly material way,\nand the private parts, both male and female, are treated as sacred in\nthe highest sense. And in a reverse way, and to no less extent, the\nDivine, when it passes over in its independent Divinity to the plane\nof existing reality, is suffered in a wholly trivial manner to get\nmixed up with everyday details. We may take an example of this from\nthe commencement of the R\u00e2m\u00e2yana, where Brahm\u00e2 has come on a visit to\nV\u00e2lm\u00eekis, the mythical bard of the R\u00e2m\u00e2yana. V\u00e2lm\u00eekis receives him\nentirely in the common Hindoo fashion, pays him a compliment or two,\nplaces a stool before him, and supplies him with water and fruits.\nBrahm\u00e2 sits down just like anybody else and constrains his host to do\nlikewise: and there they sit on and sit on until at last Brahm\u00e2 orders\nV\u00e2lm\u00eekis to compose the poem of the R\u00e2m\u00e2yana.\n\nModes of conception such as these are still not symbolic in the\nstrict sense; for although we find that here, as the symbol requires,\nforms are taken from the material of sense and diverted to the use\nof conceptions of more universal import, we still find the further\ncondition of this requirement wanting, namely, that the particular\nexistences must not actually exist for sense-perception as this\nabsolute significance, but merely _suggest_ the same. For the Hindoo\nimagination the ape, the cow, and the particular Brahmin are not merely\na cognate symbol of the Divine, but are contemplated and represented as\nthe Godhead itself, as existences adequate to that Godhead.\n\nIt is the contradiction inherent in this immediacy which is the\nmotive force of another feature in the conceptions of Hindoo art. For\nwhile, on the one hand, that which is absolutely severed from sense,\nthe spiritual significance out and out, is conceived as the actually\nDivine, yet, on the other, the particular facts of concrete reality\nare immediately envisaged by the imagination, even in their sensuous\nexistence, as Divine manifestations. They are no doubt partly only\ntaken to represent particular aspects of the Absolute; but even so\nthe particular thing in its immediacy is still incompatible with the\nuniversality, which it is, as adequate to the same, introduced to\nexpress; and it appears in all the more glaring contradiction to it\nfor the reason that the significance is here already conceived in its\nuniversality, yet, despite of this, an express relation of identity\nis immediately set up by the imagination between it and the most\nparticular of material facts.\n\n(_b_) The most obvious way in which Hindoo art endeavours to mitigate\nthis disunion is, as we have already suggested, by the _measureless_\nextension of its images. Particular shapes are drawn out into colossal\nand grotesque proportions in order that they may, as forms of sense,\nattain to universality. The particular form of sense, which is taken\nto express not itself and its own characteristic meaning as a fact of\nexternal existence, but a universal significance which lies outside\nit, fails to satisfy the imagination until it has been torn out itself\ninto vastness which knows neither measure nor limit. This is the cause\nof all that extravagant exaggeration of size, not merely in the case\nof spatial dimension, but also of measurelessness of time-durations,\nor the reduplication of particular determinations, as in figures with\nmany heads, arms, and so on, by means of which this art strains to\ncompass the breadth and universality of the significance it assumes.\nThe egg, for example, contains the bird within it. This particular fact\nis enlarged to the measureless conception of a world-egg secreting the\nuniversal life of all creation, and in which Brahm\u00e2, the procreating\nGod, accomplishes without effort the year of creation, until by virtue\nof his thought alone the the two halves of the egg fall asunder. And,\nin addition to natural objects, human individuals and events are\nexalted that they may express the significance of truly Divine action\nin such a way that we can neither hold fast the Divine or the human\nin their independence, but both seem to run in a continual confusion\nbackwards and forwards into one another. As a striking illustration\nof such a mode of conception, we have the incarnations of certain\nHindoo gods, principally Vishnu, the conserver of life, whose exploits\nfigure largely in the great epic poems. R\u00e2mas is, for instance, himself\nthe seventh incarnation of Vishnu (R\u00e2matshandra). From a review of\nparticular demands, actions, circumstances, modes of appearance, and\ntraits of demeanour, we are led to infer from these poems that this\ncontent is in great measure borrowed from actual events, that is from\nthe exploits of ancient kings who exercised a powerful influence in\ncreating new conditions of law and order; we find ourselves surrounded\nby a thoroughly human atmosphere and on the firm ground of reality. But\nthen again, in a converse direction, the entire scene expands, reaches\nout into the nebulous, playing over and beyond it with universal\nconceptions, so that we lose the vantage ground we had gained and are\nrobbed of all our bearings. We are treated in just the same way in the\nSakuntala. At first we have set before us the most gentle and odorous\nrealm of Love, in which everything goes on its way in an entirely human\nfashion; and then we are all at once snatched from the wealth of this\ngenuine world, and transported into the clouds of the heaven of Indra,\nwhere everything suffers change, and our formerly circumscribed sphere\nis inflated to the measure of the universal import of Nature's life in\nits relation to the Brahmin and the power of Nature's gods, which is\nvouchsafed to man in return for his severe self-mortifications.\n\nSuch modes of representation are also not to be termed in a strict\nsense symbolical. That is to say the true symbol suffers the\ndeterminate shape, which it applies, to remain under that original\ndefinition, because its purpose is not to envisage therein the\nimmediate existent of the significance in its universality, but to\npoint to that import merely _through_ the qualities of the object\nwhich are cognate to it. Hindoo art, however, although it severs\nuniversality from the singular existing fact, still adds the further\nrequirement that both sides shall be immediately united through the\nimagination, and is consequently forced to divest determinate existence\nof its specific limitations, and, albeit in a material fashion, to\nenlarge in the direction of indefiniteness and generally to change and\nreconstitute. In this melting down of all clear definition, and in the\nconfusion which results from it, so that that form is always set down\nas highest for everything, whether phenomena, events, or actions, which\nin the mode of their figuration can neither for themselves assert nor\nintrinsically possess and express any control over such content, we may\nrather seek for features analogous to the type of the _sublime_ than\nsee any illustration of real symbolism. For in the Sublime, as we shall\nsee for ourselves further on, the finite phenomenon only expresses the\nAbsolute, which it would previsage for conscious sense to the extent\nthat in so doing it escapes from the world of appearance, which fails\nto comprehend its content. This is just its treatment of eternity.\nIts idea of it is sublime when it has to be expressed in terms of\ntime-duration, precisely through the emphasis it lays on the fact that\nno number, however great, is sufficient. In this strain runs the text:\n\"A thousand years in Thy sight are even as a day.\" Hindoo art contains\nmuch of the same or similar nature. It strikes the opening notes of\n\"the Sublime\" symphony. The main difference, however, between it and\nthe true Sublimity consists in this, that the Hindoo imagination does\nnot in the wild exuberance of its images bring about the essential\nnothingness of the phenomena which it makes use of, but rather through\njust this very measurelessness and unlimited range of its visions\nbelieves that it has annihilated and made to vanish all difference\nand opposition between the Absolute and its mode of configuration. In\nthis extreme type of exaggeration, then, there is ultimately little of\nreal kinship with either true symbolism or Sublimity: it is equally\nremote from the true sphere of beauty. It offers us no doubt, more\nparticularly in its more sober delineation of that which is exclusively\nhuman, much that is endearing and benign, many gracious pictures and\ntender emotions, the most splendid and seductive descriptions of\nNature, the most childlike traits of Love and na\u00efve innocence, and\nwithal much too that is magnanimous and noble; but, none the less, if\nwe review it generally according to the fundamental import of all it\nexpresses, we shall find that the spiritual is throughout rooted in\nsense, the meanest objects are placed on the same plane as the highest,\ntrue definition is wrecked, the Sublime is lowered to the conception of\nmere immeasurability, and that which is the original material of mythos\nfor the most part vanishes before our eyes in the fantastic dreams of\na restless and inquisitive imaginative power, and modes of shaping the\nsame devoid of all intelligent purpose.\n\n(_c_) In conclusion, the purest form of representation which we\nmeet with at this stage of imaginative conception is that of\n_personification_, as it generally applies to the _human figure._\nFor the reason, however, that the significance on this plane is\nnot as yet grasped as the free subjectivity of Spirit, but rather\neither under a determination of abstract universality or as a mode\nof natural existence, one that contains, for example, the life of\nrivers, mountains, stars, or sun, for this reason it is only employed\nas means of expression for this kind of content under a mode which\nreally detracts from the full worth of the human form. For the human\nbody, if we view it in its true definition, no less than the form of\nhuman activities and events, expresses simply concrete Spirit and a\nspiritual content, which is self-contained and subsistent in this its\nreality, and possesses therewith no mere symbol or external sign.\n\nFrom one point of view consequently this personification, albeit the\nsignificance, which it is invoked to represent, is taken to belong\nto the spiritual no less than the natural, yet, on account of the\nabstractness which clings to this form of significance, is on this\nstage of thought still of a superficial nature, and needs yet many\nother modes of representation to be rendered clear to the closer\ninspection, forms with which it is here confusedly mingled and\nthereby itself made obscure. And, moreover, taking it under another\naspect, it is not the subjectivity here and its form which supplies\nthe characterization, but rather its _expressions_, actions, and so\nforth; for it is in deed and action that the more defined line of\nseveration first asserts itself, which can be brought into relation\nwith the specific content of the universal significances. In that case,\nhowever, we are again face to face with the defect that it is not the\nconscious subject, but merely its _means of expression_, which supply\nthe signification, no less than the confusion of thought, that events\nand deeds, instead of constituting the reality and the existence of\nthe subject as determinately self-realized, preserve its content and\nsignificance elsewhere. A series of such actions is able therefore\nvery possibly to carry with it a certain result and consequence, which\nis derived from the content which such a series subserves as its\nexpression. This consequent result is, however, to an extent equally\ngreat, liable again to be interrupted and in part suspended by that\nwhich is central in the personification and the man[47], because\nsubjective activity is also a stimulus to capricious action and its\nmanifestation, so that both that which is significant and that which is\ndestitute of this quality keep up their varied and irregular interplay\njust in so far as the imagination is unable to unite their significant\ncharacteristics and the forms which are appropriate to them in one\nsubstantial and secure mode of association. And, moreover, if it is the\npurely natural aspect of such facts which is exclusively accepted as\nthe unified content, in that case the material must inevitably prove\nitself inadequate to support the human form, just as this, being only\nfully adapted as a means of expressing Spirit, is on its side incapable\nof representing what is wholly natural. In all these respects such a\nmode of personification as the one we are examining fails to express\na true mode; for the truth of art requires, as the truth universally\nrequires, that there should be a complete concordance between the\ninward and the outward, that is, the notion and its reality. Greek\nmythology, for example, personified the Pontine sea; Scamander\npossesses its river gods, nymphs, dryads, and so forth. In other words\nit builds up Nature in the most various forms as the content of its\nhuman divinities. It does not, however, suffer its personification\nto remain purely formal and superficial, but creates thereby real\nindividuals, in whom the purely natural significance fades into the\nbackground, and the human element, on the contrary, which has taken up\nand absorbed such material out of Nature, becomes the prominent factor.\nHindoo art, on the other hand, is unable to advance beyond a grotesque\nintermingling of these two sides of Nature and humanity, so that\nneither is treated according to its rightful claim, and both are merely\ngiven the forms which are appropriate to the other.\n\nSpeaking in a general way we cannot consider even these\npersonifications to be as yet strictly symbolical, for the reason that\nowing to their formal superficiality they do not stand in any essential\nrelation to or mode of association more truly intimate with the more\ndeterminate form which they are presumed to express. At the same time\nwe may note here, with respect to other particular modifications and\nattributes, with which such personifications appear to be intermingled,\nand which are taken to express the more defined qualities generally\nattached to Divinities, an impulse in the direction of symbolic\nrepresentation, for which the personification then stands merely as the\nuniversal type of widest connotation.\n\nIf we turn now to the more important examples of the imaginative sense\non the plane we are now considering, we have first to draw attention\nto Trim\u00fbrtis, the triformed Godhead. This Deity includes in the first\nplace _Brahm\u00e2_, the activity which brings forth and procreates, the\ncreator of the world, Lord of all the gods and much more beside. On\nthe one hand he is to be kept distinct from Brahman (as Neuter), that\nis from the ultimate Being, and is the first-born of such. In another\naspect, however, he again seems to fall into union with this abstract\nGodhead, as generally happens with Hindoo thought where the lines of\ndifference are rarely held secure, and part are allowed to vanish and\nthe rest simply to get confused with each other. The form with which\nhe is most closely identified has much that is symbolical about it;\nhe is formed with four heads and four hands, and with the latter are\nhis sceptre and ring[48]. He is of a red colour, an obvious suggestion\nof sunlight, since these Divinities invariably carry qualities which\nare of universal significance in Nature and which are thus personified\nin them. The _second_ Deity of this triune Trim\u00fbrtis, is Vishnu, the\npreserving Godhead, the _third_ Sivas, the destructive Power. The\nsymbols employed to represent these gods are countless. For by reason\nof the universality of the significances they express they comprehend\nan infinite number of varied activities. In part these are related to\nparticular phenomena of Nature, mainly the elementary, such as, for\nexample, the quality of \"fiery,\"[49] which is an attribute of Vishnu,\nand frequently we have set before us shapes of the most antagonistic\ndescription.\n\nIn the conception of this triform god we have the fact at once brought\nhome to us in the clearest way that the form of Spirit is not yet able\nto assert itself in its Truth if for no other reason than this, that\nhere it is not the spiritual which constitutes the truly permeating\nsignificance. That is to say, this trinity of gods would only be\nSpirit if the third god were an essentially concrete unity, a unity\nwhich returned upon itself from the differentiation and reduplication\nof its substance. For God, according to the true conception of\nGodhead, is Spirit as this active and absolute self-differentiation\nand Unity, a conception which is generally what constitutes the notion\nof Spirit. In this Trim\u00fbrtis, however, the triune God is not by any\nmeans such a concrete totality, but merely a passage from this to that,\na metamorphosis, a procreator, a destroyer, and so forth. We must\nbe accordingly very careful not to imagine that we have discovered\nthe highest Truth in these most primordial gropings of man's reason,\nand in this one note of concord which, no doubt, as mere rhythmic\nexpression[50], contains the triune form of Deity, that is, the\nfundamental conception of Christian theology, believe that we already\nhave before us a recognition of the Christian doctrine of the Trinity.\n\nStarting from such fundamental conceptions as those of Brahman and\nTrim\u00fbrtis, Hindoo imagination expatiates still further without let in\na countless number of the most varied formed Divinities. For those\nprimary significances of universal application which are apprehended\nas essential Deity are of such a kind that they may be rediscovered\nin an infinite number of phenomena, which are again personified and\nsymbolized as gods, and each and all combine in throwing the greatest\nobstacles in the way of any intelligible system by reason of the\nindefinite character and confusing volubility[51] of this type of\nimagination, which fails utterly to grasp the real nature of anything\nthat it discovers, and merely wrests everything that it touches from\nits own appropriate sphere. For these gods of subordinate rank, at the\nhead of which we may place such a Divinity as Indrus, who represents\nthe Air and the Heavens, the chief material is furnished by the general\nforces of Nature, such as stars, rivers, and mountains conceived in\nthe various phases of their activity, their change, their influence on\nmankind, whether beneficent or hurtful, preservative or destructive.\nOne of the most important subjects, however, of Hindoo imagination\nand art is the origin of gods and the rest of creation, in other words\nits Theogony and Cosmogony. For this type of imagination is generally\nrooted in the continual effort to carry over that which is most removed\nfrom sense into the very heart of the external world, or in the reverse\nprocess once more to expunge that which stands nearest to sense and\nNature by means of the barest abstraction. Consequently the origin\nof the gods is referred back to the primordial Godhead[52], and at\nthe same time the workings and existence of Brahm\u00e2, Vishnu, and Sivas\nare represented as actual in mountains, streams, and human events.\nA cosmological content of this kind can, on the one hand, contain\nan independent and specific order of Deities, while on the other\nthese gods are made to merge in those universal significances of the\nsupremest type of Godhead. Such theogonies and cosmogonies are numerous\nand of every conceivable variety. When anyone ventures, therefore,\nto say that the Hindoos have thus or thus portrayed the creation of\nthe world or the origin of Nature, such a statement can only be taken\nto apply to a particular sect or book; you can very easily find a\nperfectly different account of these events elsewhere. The imagination\nof this people in the pictures and images they have created is\nexhaustless.\n\nA mode of conception which is conspicuous throughout the entire series\nof these creation stories is the constantly repeated presentation of\nthe creative act not in the form of _spiritual fiat_, but of a purely\n_natural_ process of _generation._ Only after having made ourselves\nthoroughly conversant with this mode of imaginative vision shall we\ndiscover the key to unlock the meaning of many representations which\nat first totally confound all our feelings of shame, shamelessness\nbeing here apparently driven to its furthest limits, and in its utter\nsensuousness carried beyond all belief. A striking example of this\nmode of imaginative treatment is offered us by the notoriously popular\nepisode from the R\u00e2m\u00e2yana, known as the descent of Gang\u00e2. This tale\nis narrated on the occasion when R\u00e2mas happens by chance to come to\nthe Ganges. The wintry and ice-covered Himav\u00e2n, the prince of the\nmountains, was father by the slender Men\u00e2 of two daughters, Gang\u00e2,\nthe elder, and the beautiful Um\u00e2 the younger one. Certain gods,\nmore particularly Indras, beseech the father to send them Gang\u00e2, in\norder that they may institute the sacred rites, and as Himavat proves\nhimself quite ready to accede to their request Gang\u00e2 mounts on high\nto the blessed gods. After this follows the further story of Um\u00e2, who\nafter accomplishing wonderful actions of humility and penitence, is\nespoused to Rudras, that is, Sivas. From this union spring up wild and\nunfruitful mountains. For a hundred years long Sivas lay with Um\u00e2 in\nthe bridal embrace, without intermission, so that the gods aghast at\nthe procreative power of Sivas, and full of anxiety for the productive\nchild, beseech him that he will divert the stream of his strength on\nthe Earth. This passage the English translator has not ventured to\ntranslate literally, for the reason that it flings too much for him\nevery shred of shame or modesty to the winds. Sivas hearkens to the\nbeseechings of the gods, and staying his former procreative ardour,\nthat he may not utterly confound the universe, he loosens the seminal\nflood over the Earth. Out of this, transpierced with fire, rises up\nthe white mountain which separates India from Tartary. Um\u00e2, however,\nfalls into scorn and anger at this complaisance, and thereon curses\nall wedlock. In this section of the tale we have what are mainly\nfearful and distorted pictures which run so entirely counter to our\nordinary notions of imagination and intelligent senses that the most\nwe can do is to observe what they would appear to offer in default of\neither. Schlegel has omitted to translate this section of the episode\nand merely added in his own words how Gang\u00e2 descends once more on the\nEarth. And this took place in the following way. A certain forebear\nof R\u00e2mas, Sagaras, was father of a bad son, and by a second wife he\nwas father of no less than 60,000 sons, who came into the world in a\npumpkin, were, however, raised up into stalwart men on clarified butter\nin pitchers[53]. Now it chanced one day that Sagaras was of a mind to\nsacrifice a steed, which was, however, seized from him by Vishnu in\nthe form of a serpent. On this Sagaras sends forth his 60,000 sons.\nBut no sooner had they come to Vishnu after great hardships and a\nlong searching than a breath of hers burns them all to ashes. After\na weary waiting a certain grandson of Sagaras, by name Ansum\u00e2n the\nShining, son of Asamaschas, set forth to find his 60,000 uncles and\nthe sacrificial steed. He actually comes upon both the steed Siwas and\nthe heap of ashes. The king of birds, Garudas, however, notifies to\nhim the fact that unless the stream of the holy Gang\u00e2 flows down from\nheaven over the heap of ashes his relations will be unable to return\nto life. Whereupon the stalwart Ansum\u00e2n endures for 32,000 years on\nthe mountain-top of Himav\u00e2n the sternest mortifications. All in vain.\nNeither his own chastisements nor those of yet another 30,000 years\nof his son Dwilipas are of the slightest avail. At last the son of\nDwilipas, the glorious Bhag\u00eerathas, succeeds in accomplishing the feat,\nbut only after mortifications which last 1,000 years. Then the Gang\u00e2\nplunges down; but in order that the Earth may not thereby shiver in\npieces, Siwas now bows his head so that the water runs into his mane.\nThereupon yet further mortifications are enjoined upon Bhag\u00eerathas, in\norder that Gang\u00e2 may be free to stream forth from these locks. Finally\nshe is poured forth in six streams; the seventh Bhag\u00eerathas conducts\nafter mighty privations to the place of the 60,000, who mount up to\nheaven, and therewith Bhag\u00eerathas rules for yet many a year over his\npeople in peace.\n\nOther theogonies such as the Scandinavian and the Greek are very\nsimilar in type to the Hindoo. The principal feature of them all\nis this of physical generation and production; but not one of them\nplunges so headlong into the subject or in general displays such\ncaprice and impropriety in the images of its invention as the Hindoo.\nThe theogony of Hesiod is in particular far more intelligible and\nsuccinct, so that at least one knows where one is, and is clear as to\nthe general significance; and this is so because the impression is\nfar more pronounced that the form and external embodiment of the myth\nis set forth by the narrator as something external. The mythos starts\nin this case[54] with Chaos, Erebos, Eros, and Gaia. The Earth (Gaia)\nbrings forth Uranos of her own accord, and then is mother by him of\nthe mountains, sea, and so forth, also of Cronos and the Cyclops,\nCentimani[55], whom Uranos, however, shortly after birth incarcerates\nin Tartaros. Gaia thereupon induces Cronos to castrate Uranos. The deed\nis accomplished. And from the blood that falls on the Earth spring to\nlife the Erinnyes and the Giants. The castrated member is caught by the\nsea, and from the sea's foam arises Cytherea. In all this description\nthe outlines are more clearly and decisively drawn. And we are thereby\ncarried beyond the circle of mere gods of Nature.\n\n3. If we endeavour now to seize some point where the transition is\nemphasized to the stage of real symbolism, we shall find the same\nalready in the first beginnings of Hindoo imagination. That is to\nsay, however preoccupied the Hindoo imagination may be in its efforts\nto contort the sensuous phenomenon into a plurality of Divinities, a\npreoccupation which no other people has displayed with anything like\nthe same exhaustless scope and countless transformations, yet from\nanother point of view in many of its visions and narratives it remains\nthroughout constant to that spiritual abstraction of a God supreme over\nall, in contrast with whom the particular, sensuous, and phenomenal\nis undivine, inadequate, and consequently is apprehended as something\nnegative, something which has finally to be cancelled. For, as we have\nfrom the first noticed, it is precisely this continual involution of\none side on the other which constitutes the fundamental type of the\nHindoo imagination, and makes it for ever incapable of finding a true\nprinciple of reconciliation. The art is consequently never tired of\nrepresenting, in every imaginable way, the surrender of the sensuous\nand the power of spiritual abstraction and self-absorption. Of this\nkind are the representations of toilsome mortifications and profound\nmeditations, of which not merely the most ancient epical poems,\nsuch as the \"R\u00e2m\u00e2yana\" and the \"Mah\u00e2bh\u00e2rata,\" but also many other\nworks of art furnish most important examples. No doubt many of these\nself-chastisements are undergone on grounds of ambition, or at least\nwith a view to definite objects, which do conduct the devotee to the\nhighest and most final union with Brahman, and to the mortification of\neverything carnal and finite. An object of this kind is the endeavour\nto secure the power of a Brahmin; but even in this there is always the\nfact present to consciousness that the expiation and the continuance\nof a meditation that is ever more and more diverted from the objects\nof sense will raise the devotee over his birth-place in a particular\ncaste, no less than help him resist the power of Nature and the gods\nof Nature. For this reason, that prince of Divinities of this class,\nIndras, opposes most signally strenuous aspirants, and strives to\nentice them away; or, in the case where all his seductions fail, he\ninvokes assistance from the supreme gods lest the entire heaven fall\ninto confusion.\n\nIn the representation of mortifications of this kind and the several\nkinds and grades according to which they are ranked, Hindoo art is\nalmost as fertile in its invention as in its system of Divinities, and\nit pursues the theme with the most thorough earnestness.\n\nThis, then, is the point from which we may now extend our survey in a\nforward direction.\n\n\n\nC. REAL SYMBOLISM\n\n\nIn the case of symbolical, no less than that of Fine Art, it is\nnecessary that the significance which it seeks to embody should not\nmerely be set forth, as is the case in Hindoo art, from the first\nimmediate unity of the same with its objective existence, such\nas obtains before any severation or distinction has as yet been\nemphasized, but that this significance should itself be independent and\n_free_ from the _immediate_ sensuous content. This deliverance can only\nso far assert itself as the sensuous and natural medium is both grasped\nand envisaged as itself essentially negative, as that which has to be\nand has been absorbed. It is a further requirement, moreover, that the\nnegativity, which is successful in making its appearance as the passing\noff and the self-dissolution of the Natural, should be accepted and\nreceive embodiment as the _absolute import_ of the object generally,\nas a phase, that is to say, of the Divine. But with a fulfilment of\nsuch claims we are already beyond the limits of Hindoo art. It is true\nthat the consciousness of this negative side is not wholly absent\nfrom the Hindoo imagination. Sivas is the destroyer no less than the\nproducer. Indras dies, nay, more, the Destroyer Time, personified as\nK\u00e2la the terrible giant, confounds the entire universe and all gods,\neven Trim\u00fbrtis, who passes away at the same time in Brahman, just as\nthe individual in his self-identification with the highest form of\nDivinity suffers his Ego and all his wisdom and will to vanish away.\nIn these conceptions, however, the negative element is in part merely\na transformation and change, in part only an abstraction, which allows\nall definition to drop away, in order that it may thrust its path to\nan indefinite and consequently vacuous and content-less universality.\nThe substance of the Divine on the other hand persists through change\nof form, passage over and advance to a system of many Deities, and the\nabrogation of that system once more in the one highest form of God\nunalterably one and the same. It is not that conception of the one\nGod, which itself essentially possesses, as this unity, the negative\naspect as its own determination, both necessary and appropriate to its\nown essential notion. In an analogous way the destructive and hurtful\nelement is placed according to the Parsee view of existence _outside_\nthe personality of Ormuzd in Ahriman, and consequently only makes a\ncontradiction and conflict manifest belonging under no form of relation\nto Ormuzd, as a distinct phase of his own substance.\n\nThe actual point in the advance which we have now to make consists,\ntherefore, in this that, on the one hand, the negative aspect, fixed\nby consciousness in an independent relation as the Absolute, is,\nhowever, on the other, merely regarded as a phase of the Divine, as\na phase, however, which is not only as outside the true Absolute\nincidental to another Godhead[56], but is to be so ascribed to the\nAbsolute, that the true God appears as a process in which He negates\n_Himself_, and thereby contains this negative element as an inherent\nself-determination of His own substance.\n\nThrough this enlarged conception the Absolute is for the first time\nessentially _concrete_, that is self-determination, and thereby\nessential unity, whose particular antitheses, as parts of a process,\nappear to consciousness as the different determinations of one and\nthe same God. For the necessity of giving essential definition to the\nabsolute significance is just that which at this stage it is felt to be\nof first importance to satisfy. All the significances up to this point\npersisted by virtue of their abstract character as absolutely undefined\nand consequently void of content, or were merged, when in a converse\ndirection they tended to clear distinction, immediately in the Being of\nNature, or fell into a conflict in respect to their configuration which\ngave them no repose and reconciliation. This twofold defect we have now\nto remove, both by showing the advance of Thought regarded as itself an\nideal process, and by illustrating that advance by means of particular\nfacts of the mind and institutions of nations on the objective plane of\nhistory.\n\nAnd in the _first_ place we may observe a more intimate bond of\nassociation is set up between the Inward and Outward aspect of\nconsciousness in the increased recognition that every determination\nof the Absolute is already essentially an inchoate movement in the\ndirection of expression. For every determination is essentially\ndistinction[57]. The External, however, is as such always defined\nand distinct, and consequently there is thus an aspect immediately\npresented, according to which the External is manifested in a form\nmore adequate to the significance than was possible under the modes\nof conception as yet examined. The first definition, however, and\nessential negation of the Absolute inevitably falls short of the free\nself-determination of Spirit as _Spirit._ It is merely the immediate\nnegation of itself. This immediate and consequently natural negation\nin its most comprehensive form of statement is _Death._ The Absolute\nis consequently apprehended now in a way that it is compelled to\nsubmit itself to this form of negation as a part of the essential\ndetermination of its own notion, in other words it is obliged to enter\nthe path of extinction, and we observe consequently the glorification\nof Death and grief in the first instance made present to the national\nconsciousness as the death of the dying sensuous material. The death of\nNature is cognized as a necessary part[58] of the life of the Absolute.\nThe Absolute, however, on the one hand, in order to be subject to this\nphase of Death, must be posited already as determinate existence; and,\nequally from another point of view, must not be suffered to remain in\nthe annihilation of Death, but must be held to _re-establish_ itself\nin an essentially positive unity on a yet higher plane of existence.\nDeath is consequently not accepted here as constituting the entire\nsignificance, but merely one aspect of the same. And though no doubt\nthe Absolute is in one sense viewed as a cessation of its immediate\nexistence, a passage over and beyond and a passing away, yet it is\nquite as much in the reverse sense conceived as a return upon itself,\nas a resurrection, as an eternal process of Divine realization rendered\npossible by virtue of this evolutional principle of negation. For Death\nis capable of a twofold meaning. Under the first it is the immediate\npassing away of the natural; under the second Death is the extinction\nof the exclusively natural and thereby the birth of a higher type, that\nis, spiritual, from which the merely natural falls away in the sense,\nthat Spirit possesses in itself this phase as an essential phase of its\nown substance.\n\nFor this reason, _secondly_, the form of Nature can no longer be\naccepted in the immediacy of sensuous existence as adequate to the\nsignificance referred to it, because the significance of the External\nconsists just in this, that it must die in the form of its real\nexistence and rise again.\n\nOn the same ground, _thirdly_, the mere conflict between significance\nand form and that ferment of the imagination, which was the fantastic\nproduct of Hindoo conceptions, drop away. The significance is, it is\ntrue, even now not yet fully and with absolute clarity cognized in its\npure unity _free_ from all sense-presented reality, so that it could be\nset forth in real _contrast_ with the form of its actual embodiment;\nconversely, however, the form itself, this particular, object, that\nis, whether in its glorified shape of grandiosity or in any other\nmore conspicuous form of caricature, as an image of animal life, a\nhuman personification, event or action, is not taken to envisage for\nimmediate sense an adequate existence of the Absolute. This corrupt\nform of identity is already surpassed as fully to the extent that it\nstill falls behind that other complete deliverance. And in the place of\nboth of these extremes we have asserted that kind of representation,\nwhich we have above already described as the _real symbolical._ On the\none hand it is now _able_ to appear for the reason that the Inward, or\nthat which is conceived as significance, is no longer something which\nmerely, as in Hindoo conceptions, comes and passes away, at one moment\nis absorbed immediately in externality, at another is withdrawn from\nthe same into the solitude of abstraction, but it begins to make itself\nindependently secure against the mere reality of Nature. And on the\nother hand the symbol is now forced to seek some form of plastic shape.\nThat is to say, although the significance, identical in every way with\nthat which has hitherto obtained, possesses as a phasal condition of\nits content the negation of the Natural, yet the true Inward now for\nthe first time shows a definite tendency to wrest its way from that\nNatural, and is consequently itself still swallowed up within the\nexternal mode of appearance, so that it is unable independently to be\nbrought home to consciousness in its clear universality without having\npreviously had to comply with the form of external reality.\n\nNow the kind of _configuration_ which is implied by the notion of\nthat which generally constitutes the _fundamental significance_ in\nsymbolism, may be described in the following terms, namely, we find in\nit that the definite forms of Nature, human activities and so forth,\nneither--to express one aspect of it--represent or signify merely\nthemselves severally in their isolated natural characteristics, nor--to\nemphasize the other aspect--bring their immediate form to consciousness\nas the Divine actually visible to sense. They are rather employed to\n_suggest_ that same Divine through qualities which they possess cognate\nwith a significance of more comprehensive range. For this reason it is\njust that universal dialectic of Life, its origin, growth, collapse\nin and awakening from Death, which also in this connection supplies\nthe appropriate content for the true symbolic type; and this is so\nbecause we find in almost every province of natural and spiritual\nlife certain phenomena, which presuppose this process as the basis of\ntheir existence, and consequently can be utilized as means of giving a\nvisible body to such significant aspects and of pointing by suggestion\nto the same, a real affinity being actually inherent between the two\nsides. Thus plants spring from their seed, sprout, grow, bring forth\nfruit; the fruit corrupts and produces fresh seed. In the same way the\nsun rises to a low elevation in winter; in Spring he mounts on high,\nuntil we have his meridian reached in summer; it is then that he pours\nforth his richest blessing or exerts the greatest destructive force;\nafter that he inclines once more towards the horizon. The various\nstages of human life, too, childhood, youth, maturity, and old age,\nillustrate precisely the same universal process. But in a special sense\nspecific localities such as the Nile-valley are adapted to the closer\nparticularization in the direction indicated.\n\nIn so far, then, as that which is purely fantastic is displaced by\nthese more fundamental traits of affinity and the more intimate\napplicability of the expression to the import it expresses there arises\na thoughtful process of selection with reference to the comparative\ncongruity or incongruity of the symbolizing forms, and the intoxicated\neddy to and fro which prevailed is laid to rest in a more intelligent\ncircumspection.\n\nWe consequently observe that a union more at one with itself reappears\nin the place of that which we found in the first stage of our process,\nsubject, however, to this characteristic difference, that the identity\nof the significance with its objectively real existence is no longer\none immediately envisaged, but one that is _set up_ out of the\ndifference and consequently not one previously discovered, rather we\nshould say a mode of union that is the _product of mind_ (Spirit). That\nwhich, in its most general terms, we call the _Inward_ begins at this\npoint to assume the solidity of self-subsistence, to be conscious of\nitself; it seeks for its counterfeit in the objects of Nature, which\non their part possess a similar reflection in the life and destinies\nof Spirit. Out of this eager movement to recognize the one side in\nthe other, and by means of the external to bring for itself visibly\nto sense and the imaginative faculty the significance, as also to\nenvisage by virtue of that Inward the significance of the external\nshapes through a union in which both sides are associated, we get that\nvast impulse of art which finds its satisfaction through means which\nare purely symbolical. Only when the Inward is free and is driven\nforward to make clear to the imaginative vision in real form what it\nessentially is, and to have before itself this very vision, moreover,\nin the form of an external work, do we find that the genuine impulse\nof art, and the particularly plastic arts, begins to be a living fact.\nThen it is that the necessity is felt to clothe the Inward with a\nform not merely previously discovered from the resources of spiritual\nactivity, but rather one that is minted out of spirit (mind) for the\nfirst time. In the symbol, then, there is a second form _created_,\nwhich, however, is not independently valid for itself as its main\npurpose, but is rather employed to envisage the significance, and\nstands consequently in a dependent relation to the same.\n\nIt were possible to apprehend the above relation in such a way as\nthough the significance were that point from which the artistic\nconsciousness starts on its journey, and that only after having found\nthis it begins to look round for means to express its universal\nconceptions through external phenomena cognate in their affinity to\nsuch conceptions. This, however, is not the way that real symbolic\nart proceeds. For its characteristic distinction consists in this,\nthat its penetration fails as yet to grasp the significances in their\nindependent consistency, independent, that is, from every mode of\nexternality. For this reason its point of departure is rather from\nthat which is immediately presented and its concrete existence in\nNature and Spirit. This it thereupon, in the first instance, expands\nto the measure of the universality of such significances, whose\ndetermination such objective real existence contains only under more\nrestricted conditions, adding this wider range in order that it may\ncreate a form from Spirit, which is to make that universality visible\nto consciousness in this particular reality when once it is set forth\nclearly before perception. Regarded as symbolical forms, therefore,\nthe images of art have not as yet attained a form truly adequate\nto Spirit, inasmuch as Spirit itself is not as yet at this stage\nessentially clear and thereby free Spirit; but we have at least here\nembodiments, which essentially proclaim the fact to us, that they are\nnot merely selected to represent simply themselves, but are intended to\npoint to significances of profounder intension and more--comprehensive\nrange. That which is purely natural and sensuous asserts itself as fact\nand nothing beside; the symbolical work of art, however, whether it\nbe the phenomena of Nature or the human figure that it makes visible\nto the eye, points at the same time over and outside such facts to\nsomething further, which, however, must possess an intimate root of\naffinity with the images that are thus displayed, and an essential bond\nof relation with them. This association between the concrete form and\nits universal significance may conceivably be present in many different\nways. At one time the emphasis will be laid on the external aspect, and\nit will consequently be more obscure; at another, however, the basis of\naffinity will be more pronounced as in the case when the universality,\nwhich is to be symbolized, constitutes, in fact, the essential content\nof the concrete phenomenon. In this case naturally it is a much simpler\nmatter to grasp the symbolic character of the object.\n\nThe most abstract mode of expression in this respect is _number_,\nwhich, however, it is only possible to use as an indication of a\nfurther meaning beyond that it ordinarily elucidates when this\nsignificance is itself, essentially numerical. The numbers seven and\ntwelve are frequently met with in Egyptian architecture, because\nseven is the number of the planets, and twelve is that of the lunar\nrevolutions or the number of feet that the water of the Nile must\nnecessarily rise in order to fructify the land. Such a number is then\nregarded as sacred in so far as it is present as a determinant in the\ngreat elementary relations, which are revered as forces in the whole\nlife of Nature. Twelve steps or seven pillars are to this extent\nsymbolical. The same kind of numerical symbolism has an extensive\ninfluence upon the form of widely famous mythologies. The twelve\nlabours of Hercules, for example, appear to contain a reference to the\ntwelve months of the year; for if Hercules under one aspect of the myth\nis no doubt presented to us as the thoroughly human impersonation of a\nhero, in another he unquestionably indicates a significance of Nature\nunder a symbolized form, and, in fact, is a personification of the\ncourse of the sun.\n\nIn a further and more complete sense symbolical configurations of\nspace, labyrinthine passages, and such like carry a symbolical image\nof the course of the planets, just as dances, too, in virtue of their\ncomplex evolutions symbolically express the motion of the great\nelementary bodies.\n\nAnd further, on a higher plane, the bodies of animals are utilized\nas symbols, but most succinctly of all the human figure, which, even\nat this stage, as we shall see later on, appears to be elaborated in\nmodes more compatible with its intrinsic worth for the reason that even\nnow Spirit in general makes a real movement to embody itself from out\nthe mere swaddling clothes of Nature in a shape more adequate to its\nown self-subsistent personality. Such, then, constitutes our general\nconcept of the true form of symbolism and the necessity under which\nart labours to express the same. And in order that we may discuss the\nmore concrete exemplifications of this type of symbolism, it will be\nnecessary in dealing with this first plunge of Spirit into the wealth\nof its own resources to leave the East and direct our attention mainly\non the West.\n\nAs a symbol of universal import to indicate the point of view where\nwe now stand, we may perhaps first and foremost fix before our eyes\nthe image of the Phoenix, which is its own funeral pile, yet ever is\nrejuvenated out of the flames of its death and rises from the ashes.\nHerodotus informs us (II, 73) that at least in representations he saw\nthis bird in Egypt, and, in fact, it is the _Egyptian_ people who also\nsupply us with a focus for the type of symbolical art. Before, however,\nwe proceed to the closer consideration of Egyptian art we will mention\nseveral other myths, which form, as it were, the passage to that\nnational symbolism which we find most elaborate, no matter from what\ndirection we approach it. Such are the myths of Adonis, that of his\ndeath, and the lament of Aphrodite over him, the funeral festivals,\netc., conceptions and rites which find their original home on the\nSyrian coast. The service of Cybele among the Phrygians possesses the\nsame significance, which also finds its echo in the myths of Castor and\nPollux, Ceres and Proserpina.\n\nAs the essence of such significance we find in the above quoted\nexamples, before everything else, that phasal condition of negation we\nhave already alluded to, the death, that is, of the natural regarded\nas a basic and absolute condition of the Divine process, emphasized\nas such, and made visible in its independence. It is in this sense\nthat we can explain the funeral festivals that celebrate the death of\nthe god, the excessive lamentations over his loss, which is once more\nmade good through his rediscovery, resurrection, and rejuvenescence,\nmaking it possible for the festivals of joy to follow. This universal\nsignificance contains further its more definite relation to Nature.\nIn winter the sun loses his force, while in spring he returns once\nmore, and with that Nature regains her youth, she dies and is reborn.\nIn examples such as these the Divine, personified as a human event,\ndiscovers its significance in the life of Nature, which then from a\nfurther point of view becomes a symbol for the essential character of\nthe negative condition generally, in spiritual things no less than\nnatural.\n\nIt is in _Egypt_, however, that we have to look for the perfect\nexample of symbolical representation in its systematic elaboration of\ncharacteristic content and form. Egypt is the land of symbol, which\nproposes to itself the spiritual problem of the self-interpretation\nof Spirit, without being able successfully to solve it. The problems\nremain without an answer; and such solution as we are able to supply\nconsists therefore merely in this, that we grasp these riddles of\nEgyptian art and its symbolical productions as this very problem which\nEgypt propounds for herself but is unable to solve. For the reason\nthat we find that Spirit here still endeavours in the external objects\nof sense, from which again it strains to free itself, and further\nlabours with unwearied assiduity, to evolve from itself its essential\nsubstance by means of natural phenomena no less than to embody the same\nin the form of spirit for the _vision of the senses_, rather than\nas the pure content of mind, this Egyptian people may, in contrast\nto all the instances previously examined, be described as the nation\nArt claims for herself[59]. Its works of art, however, remain full of\nmystery and silence, without music or motion; and this is so because\nSpirit here has not yet truly found its own life, nor has learned how\nto utter the clear and luminous speech of mind. In the unsatisfied\nstress and impulse, to bring before the vision through her art, albeit\nin so voiceless a way, this wrestle of herself with herself, to give\nshape to the Inward of her life, but only to become conscious of her\nown Inward, no less than that which universally prevails[60], through\nexternal forms which are cognate with it--we have in a sentence the\ncharacterization of Egypt. The people of this wonderful land was not\nmerely agricultural, but also constructive, a folk which tossed up the\nsoil in every direction, delved lakes and canals, and exercised their\nartistic instincts not merely in giving visible shape to buildings of\nenormous solidity, but in carrying works themselves of vast dimension\nto a like extent into the bowels of the earth. To erect buildings of\nthis kind was, as we have long ago learned from Herodotus, a principal\noccupation of this people, and one of the chief exploits of their\nkings. The buildings of the Hindoo race are also unquestionably of\ncolossal size; we shall, however, find nowhere else a variety which can\ncompare with that of Egypt.\n\n1. Reviewing now the general conceptions of Egyptian art with a closer\nattention to particular aspects of it, we may in the first place define\nthe fundamental principle of so much of it as follows, that we find\nhere the Inward is securely held in its independent opposition to the\nimmediacy of external existence. And what is more, this Inward is\nconceived as the negation of Life, in other words the dead thing, not\nas the abstract negation of the evil and hurtful thing, such as Ahriman\nin contrast to Ormuzd, but as form essentially substantive.\n\n(_a_) To illustrate this thought further, the Hindoo merely subtilizes\nhis life to the most empty of abstractions, that is in result one that\ntherewith negates every form of concrete content. Such a Brahm-becoming\nprocess is not to be found in Egypt; rather we find here that the\ninvisible possesses a fuller significance; the corpse secures the\ncontent of the living body itself, which, however, as torn away from\nimmediate existence, in its retirement from actual life[61], still\npossesses its relation to that which is alive, and in this concrete\nform is maintained as self-subsistent. It is a well-known fact that\nthe Egyptians embalmed and revered cats, dogs, hawks, ichneumons,\nbears, and wolves (Herod., II, 67), but most of all the dead human body\n(Herod., II, 86-90). By them the honour paid to the dead is not that of\nburial, but its preservation from age to age as a corpse.\n\n(_b_) And moreover we may observe that the Egyptians do not merely\nremain constant to this immediate and still wholly natural permanency\nof the dead. That which is preserved in its physical or natural aspect\nis also conceived to endure in a form present to the imagination.\nHerodotus informs us that the Egyptians were the first who held the\ndoctrine that the human soul is immortal. We consequently find that\nthey are the first who present to us a more exalted mode of this\nresolution of the natural and spiritual, a mode that is to say, under\nwhich it is not merely the natural body which secures an independent\nself-subsistence.\n\nThe immortality of the soul is a conception which borders closely upon\nthe freedom of Spirit. The Ego is here apprehended as removed from the\npurely natural mode of its existence, reposing on its own substance.\nThis knowledge of itself, however, is the principle of freedom. No\ndoubt we are not justified in asserting that the Egyptians grasped\nthe notion of spiritual freedom in its profoundest sense. We must not\nimagine that their belief in the immortality of the soul is identical\nwith our own form of that belief; but they already possessed the power\nto retain securely that which was separated from Life under a form\nof existence visible only to the imagination, no less than one in\nwhich it was identical with the bodily material. They have thereby\nmade possible the passage to the full emancipation of Spirit, albeit\nit was but the threshold of the temple of freedom that they passed\nover. This fundamental conception of theirs is further expanded to a\nunified and substantial Kingdom of the Departed set up in contrast to\nthe immediate presence of the real. A Court of Justice of the Dead is\nheld in this invisible state over which Osiris as Amenthes presides.\nOne of similar character is also instituted in the sphere of immediate\nreality, justice being executed even among men over the dead, and after\nthe decease of a king every one was entitled to submit his grievances\nto that court.\n\n(_c_) If we now proceed to inquire what is the _symbolical_ form of\nart, which is given to such conceptions, we must look for this among\nthe characteristic features of Egyptian architecture. The form of this\narchitecture is twofold; there is one type that is superterraneous,\nwhile the other is subterraneous.\n\nOn the one hand we find underground labyrinths, gorgeous and extensive\nexcavations, passages half a mile in length, dwellings covered with\nhieroglyphics elaborated with every possible care. On the other we have\npiled above their level those amazing constructions among which we\nmay first and foremost reckon the _pyramids_. For centuries men have\nventilated various notions as to the precise meaning and significance\nof these pyramids. It is now, however, assured beyond dispute that they\nare nothing more or less than the enclosures of the graves of kings or\nsacred animals, such as the Apis, the Cat, or the Ibis. In this way we\nhave before our eyes in the pyramids the simple prototype of symbolical\nart. They are enormous crystals which secrete an Inward within them;\nand they so enclose an external form which is the product of art, that\nwe are at the same time made aware they stand there for this very\nInward in its severation from the mere actuality of Nature, and that\ntheir entire significance depends on that relation. But this kingdom\nof Death and the Invisible, which here constitutes the significance,\npossesses merely the one and, what is more, the formal aspect\nappropriate to the true type of art, that is its dissociation from\nimmediate existence; it is for this reason primarily but a Hades, not\nyet a Life, which, although raised above sensuous existence as such,\nis none the less at the same time essentially a defined existence,\nand thereby intrinsically free and living Spirit. Consequently the\nembodiment for such an Inward still remains in relation to the\ndeterminacy of the same's content quite as much a wholly external form\nand envelopment. Such an external environment, in which an Inward\nreposes under a veil, are the pyramids.\n\n2. In so far, then, as the Inward can be generally envisaged as an\nexternal object to immediate perception, the Egyptians in their\nrelation to the aspect opposed to this externality have come to worship\na Divine existence in living animals, such as the bull, the cat, and\nvarious others. That which is alive is on a higher plane than the\npurely inorganic object, inasmuch as the living organism possesses an\nInward, to which the external shape points, which, however, persists\nas an Inward and consequently a realm of mystery. This sacred cult of\nanimals must consequently be understood as the vision of a secreted\nsoul[62], which as Life is a power superior to that which is merely\nexternal. To us no doubt it can only appear as a repugnant fact that\nanimals, dogs and cats, are held sacred instead of that which is truly\nspiritual.\n\nThis worship, moreover, has nothing symbolical in it viewed simply as\nsuch; for it is the actual living animal, Apis or the like, which is\nhere itself revered as the existence of God. The Egyptians, however,\nhave used the shapes of animals in a symbolical way. In that case\nthey are no longer valid, simply for what they are, but it is further\nassumed that they express a more universal import. We find the most\ningenuous illustration of this in the use of animal masks, which we\nfind more particularly under representations of embalming, at which\nprocess certain individuals, who take an active part, either in opening\nthe corpse or removing the intestines, are depicted wearing such masks.\nIt is obvious that the animal's head is not taken to present the animal\nitself, but a significance at the same time distinct from it and more\nuniversal. The forms of animals are also utilized in other ways than\nthis in admixture with the human form. Human figures are to be found\nwith heads of lions, which have been interpreted as images of Minerva;\nthen there are heads of the hawk, and in the heads of Ammon we find\nthe horns still retained. Examples such as the above obviously imply\nsymbolical relations. In a like sense the hieroglyphical writing of\nthe Egyptians is in great measure symbolical, for it either endeavours\nto make its meaning comprehensible through the images of real objects\nwhich do not stand for themselves, but a universality which is cognate\nwith them, or, as is still more frequently the case, in the so-called\nphonetic aspect of this style of writing, it signifies particular\nletters by means of the specific mark of some external object, whose\ninitial letter possesses in speech the same tone as that which it is\nthe intention to express.\n\n3. And generally it is the fact that in Egypt pretty nearly every\nconformation is symbolical and hieroglyphical, expressing not itself\nbut indicative of something more, with which it possesses affinity,\nor in other words a cognate relation. The truest forms of the symbol,\nhowever, are only completely illustrated in such cases where we find\nthat this relation is of a more profound and fundamental character\nthan those we have just adverted to. We will now briefly enumerate\na few constantly recurring examples of this more important type of\naffiliation.\n\n(_a_) Precisely as Egyptian belief[63] surmises a mysterious Inwardness\nof content in the animal form, we find the human figure represented in\nsuch a way that the most characteristic intension[64] of subjectivity\nis still asserted through an external relation, and consequently is\nunable to unfold into the freedom of Beauty. Particularly remarkable\nin this respect are those colossal figures of _Memnon_ which, reposing\non themselves, motionless, with arms glued to the body, feet close\ntogether, inflexible, stiff and lifeless, are set up face to face\nwith the sun, waiting for his ray to strike them, animate them, and\nmake them resonant. Herodotus, at any rate, informs us that these\nMemnonic figures emitted a musical note on the sun's rising. The\nhigher criticism has no doubt expressed itself as sceptical on the\nlatter point; the fact, however, of a distinct note has recently been\nonce more established both by Frenchmen and Englishmen; and though it\nappears that this echo is no result of previous mechanical ingenuity,\nwe have an explanation of it in the fact that, as sometimes happens\nwith minerals which make a crackling noise in water, the tone of these\nimages of stone is actually produced by the collective action of the\ndew, the morning cool, and the subsequent impact of the sun's rays, to\nthe extent, that is, that tiny fractures appear in the stone which then\nagain disappear. In any case we may attribute to these colossal shapes\nthe symbolical import, that they do not possess the spiritual principle\nof Life free in themselves, and consequently require that their\nanimation should be brought to them externally by Light, which alone is\nable to unbar the music of their life, instead of having the power to\naccept the same from that real soul of Inwardness, which essentially\ncarries with it measure and beauty. In contrast to them the human\nvoice is the echo of personal feeling and the soul's self, without any\nexternal stimulant, just as the height of human art generally consists\nin the fact that the Inward of Spirit supplies the form thereof from\nits own substance. The Inward or soul of the human form is in Egypt\nstill a mute, and in its animation it is the relation to external\nnature which alone commands attention.\n\n(_b_) A further type of symbolical conception is to be found in Isis\nand Osiris. Osiris is an object of procreation and birth, and is done\nto death by Typhon. Isis seeks for the scattered members, finds,\ncollects, and buries them. This mythos of the god has, then, in the\nfirst place as its content purely _natural significance._ From one\npoint of view, that is to say, Osiris is the sun, and his life-history\nstands as symbolic for his yearly course; from another, however, he\nsignifies the rise and fall of the Nile, which is necessarily the\nsource of all fruitfulness in Egypt. For in Egypt there may not be a\ndrop of rain for years together, and it is the Nile which primarily\nwaters the land by its floods. In winter time it flows but a shallow\nstream within its bed; then, however, with the summer-solstice\n(\"Herod.,\" II, 19) it begins for a hundred days to rise, pours over its\nbanks and streams far and wide over the land. Finally the water dries\nup beneath the sun's heat and the scorching desert winds, and once\nmore retires to its course. Under such conditions the tillage of the\nsoil is carried out with ease; the most luxurious vegetation springs\nup. Everything buds and ripens. The sun and Nile, and the way both of\nthem become weak or strong, these are the conspicuous forces of Nature\nin this land, which the Egyptian has symbolically depicted under a\nhuman form in the myths of Isis and Osiris. To this type of symbolism,\ntoo, belongs the symbolical representation of the zodiac, which is\nassociated with the year's course, just as the number of the twelve\ngods is bound up with the months. Conversely, however, Osiris typifies\nunder another aspect the entirely _human._ He is held sacred as the\nfounder of agriculture, of the division of the soil, property and laws,\nand his worship is consequently to an equal extent related to human\nactivities, which are connected in the closest manner with ethical and\njudicial functions.\n\nIn the same way he is judge of the Dead, and secures as such a\nsignificance wholly released from the mere life of Nature, an import\nunder which the symbolical tends to pass away for the reason that\nhere the Inward and Spiritual is of itself content of the human form,\nwhich, under such a mode of relation, begins to conserve the Inward\nessentially belonging to it, one, that is, which through its external\nform signifies merely its own substance. This spiritual process,\nhowever, assumes again in equal measure as its content the external\nlife of Nature, and, for example, in temples, number of steps, floors,\nand pillars, in labyrinths and their passages, windings and chambers,\nrepresents the same in an external manner. Osiris is thus quite as much\nthe natural as he is the spiritual life in the different phases of his\nprocess[65] and its transformations; and his symbolical embodiments are\npartly symbolic of the elements of Nature; while again in part these\nchanges of Nature are themselves merely symbols of spiritual activities\nand their various phases. For this reason, too, the human form persists\nhere as no mere personification, such as we found to be the-case\npreviously, because here the natural aspect, albeit from one point of\nview it appears as the real significance, yet from another is itself\nmerely asserted as a symbol of the Spirit; and, generally speaking,\nat this stage of conception, where we find that the Inward struggles\nto come forth from the sense-vision of Nature, it is in a position of\nsubordinance.\n\nFor the same reason we find here that the human figure already receives\nan entirely different type of elaboration, attesting thereby a real\neffort to penetrate the arcana of true Inwardness and Spirit, though\nthis endeavour also fails as yet to attain its object, that is, the\nessential freedom of the Spiritual. And it is by reason of this very\ndefect that the human figure remains before us with neither freedom nor\nserene clarity, colossal, brooding, petrified, legs, arms, and head\nglued straitened and tight to the rest of the body, without the grace\nor motion of Life. Thus it is that art is first ascribed to Daedalus,\nin that he loosed arms and feet from their fetters, and endowed the\nbody with movement.\n\nOn account of this alternative aspect of symbolism above referred to\nsymbolism in Egypt is, in addition to its other characteristics, a\ntotality of symbols in the sense that what in one respect is asserted\nas significance is employed as symbol in a sphere cognate with it. This\nambiguous association of a symbolism which makes significance and form\nintertwine, which is further actually typical or suggestive of much,\nand thereby is already concurrent with that inward subjective sense,\nwhich alone is capable of following such indications in a variety of\ndirections[66], is the characteristic distinction of these images,\nalbeit by reason of this ambiguity the difficulty of interpreting them\nis of course increased.\n\nA significance of this type--attempts at deciphering which are\nunquestionably nowadays carried too far for the reason that pretty\nnearly every kind of form is virtually set before us as symbolical\nin some relation--may very possibly from the point of view of the\nEgyptians themselves have been clear and intelligible as significance.\nBut, as we insisted at the very entrance of our inquiry, the\nappropriate motto for the interpretation of Egyptian symbolism is\n_implicite multum nihil explicite._ There is a type of workmanship\nundertaken with the express endeavour that it shall carry its own\ninterpretation on the forehead, but we only find there evidence of the\neffort; it stops short of the essential point of self-illumination. It\nis in this sense that we must fix our eyes on the works of Egyptian\nart. They contain riddles, the full solution of which is not merely\nwithheld from ourselves, but was equally beyond the reach of the great\nmajority of the artists who created them.\n\n(_c_) The works of Egyptian art in their excessively mysterious\nsymbolism are therefore riddles, let us rather say the objective\nriddle's self. And we may summarily define the _Sphinx_ as symbol of\nthe real significance of the genius of Egypt. It stands as a symbol for\nsymbolism itself. In countless numbers, set forth in rows of a hundred\nat a time, we come across these Sphinx-forms on Egyptian soil; they\nare hewn from the hardest stone, polished, covered with hieroglyphics,\nand in the vicinity of Cairo of such colossal dimensions that their\nlion-claws alone measure a man's height. Their animal bodies lie in\nrepose, above which as bust a human body rears itself; now and again\nwe find the head of a ram, but in the most common case it is that of\na woman. Out of the obtuse strength and robustness of animality the\nspirit of man is fain to press forward, albeit still unable to attain\nthe perfect representation of his own freedom, or a counterfeit of\nhis body in motion; and this is inevitable, for he is still forced to\nremain blended in the company of that Other which confronts himself.\nThis straining after self-conscious spirituality, which fails to grasp\nitself from the truth of its own substance in a form of external\nreality which is alone adequate to express it, and instead envisages\nand brings the same home to consciousness in that which is merely\ncognate with it, but also that which is equally foreign to it, is, in\nits general terms, the symbolical; and we find it here concentrated to\na point as the riddle.\n\nIt is in this sense that the Sphinx in the Greek mythos, which itself\nagain is open to symbolic interpretation, appears as the monster\nwhich propounds its riddle. The sphinx asked here the famous and\nproblematical question: \"Who is it, who walks in the morning on four\nlegs, at noon upon two legs, and in the evening on three?\" Oedipus\ndiscovered the simple answer that it was man himself, and hurled the\nsphinx from the rocks. The resolution of the symbol consists in the\nillumination of all that is implied in the significance of one word,\nSpirit, just as the famous Greek inscription cries out to mankind:\n\"Know thyself.\" The light of consciousness is that clarity, which\nsuffers its concrete content to shine all luminous through the form\nwhich is wholly adapted to unfold it, and in its positive form of\nexistence simply reveals that which it is in truth.\n\n[Footnote 37: _Bedeutung_.]\n\n[Footnote 38: What Hegel means is that calling an aspect of sense\nbodily or natural itself implies a distinction from that which is\nspiritual, or only cognized by mind, and this distinction is not\npresent to the earliest human cognition of Divine reality.]\n\n[Footnote 39: _Das Lichtreine._]\n\n[Footnote 40: Except in the conceptions of the Hebrew prophets this is\nonly true subject to qualification even of the God of Israel. For he\nwas evidently associated with the thunder, to take but one case--the\ndeliverance of the tables of stone on Sinai.]\n\n[Footnote 41: _Phantasie_ may often be translated by the word\nimagination, but here the element of caprice and dependence on sensuous\nimage rather than creative impulse directed by a principle of selection\nis to be emphasized.]\n\n[Footnote 42: _Ein Taumel_, _i.e._, the dance as of intoxication.]\n\n[Footnote 43: This is obviously a difficult passage to follow. The\nmain thing to remember is that Hegel is here describing the movement\nof a dialectical process, that is the purely objective, rather than\nthe point of view of personal or even national experience. Such vivid\nexpressions as _Taumel_ and _schamlos hineinr\u00fccken_ remind one of the\nPlatonic dialectic.]\n\n[Footnote 44: Hegel's editor has Brahman here, but according to a\npassage lower down (p. 59) it should rather be Brahm\u00e2.]\n\n[Footnote 45: _Hinaufschrauben_, lit., a screwing up to--a screwing\nthat in fact crews the head off.]\n\n[Footnote 46: _Verdumpfens._ Either Hegel wrote _Verdummens_, or more\nprobably _Verdampfens._ The idea of \"becoming mouldy\" makes no sense.]\n\n[Footnote 47: This I think is the sense, though Hegel expresses it by\nusing words such as _das Personificieren und Vermenschlichen_, and\nlower down _das Subjektiviren._ But previously he has rather contrasted\nthat false kind of personification which seeks for the significant\nin the expression of the subject, his deeds and acts, rather than in\ngrasping the motive centre of personality, the subjective principle\nitself, and it appears more intelligible in a passage, which is\nsufficiently hard to follow in any ease, to preserve that contrast.]\n\n[Footnote 48: There is apparently only one ring and sceptre, but the\nwords used are capable of the interpretation that would attach one for\neach of the hands.]\n\n[Footnote 49: Hegel cites Wilson's Lexicon, _s.v._ 2.]\n\n[Footnote 50: _Dem Rhythmus nach_, that is, the Hindoo conception\nis entirely superficial, and expresses rather a rhythmic order than\na profound spiritual truth which this number expresses, a truth\nwhich as Hegel has previously observed may be expressed under other\ndeterminations than the numerical.]\n\n[Footnote 51: _Unst\u00e4tigkeit_, instability, flightiness, detachment from\na fundamental principle.]\n\n[Footnote 52: That is Brahm\u00e2 apparently.]\n\n[Footnote 53: The order of the words would strictly mean that the sons\nwere in the pitchers and it is quite possible that this is the meaning.]\n\n[Footnote 54: That is, in Greek cosmogony.]\n\n[Footnote 55: What: _Centimanen_ refers to I do not know, possibly a\nname for Arges, Ceropes, and Brontes.]\n\n[Footnote 56: The sense is \"which is not merely (to take the obvious\ncase of opposition which is, however, _not_ the one here described)\ntotally outside the Absolute and incidental to,\" etc. Hegel's words\nwould admit of the interpretation that this was part of the conception\nhe is describing. But this is obviously not so, for, in that case, the\nnegative would be ascribed to both the Absolute and the \"other God.\"]\n\n[Footnote 57: _Ist Unterscheiden_, is that which involves\ndifferentiation. To posit a quality is to distinguish from other\nqualities. A fundamental, aspect of Hegelian logic.]\n\n[Footnote 58: _Glied_, part of one organic totality.]\n\n[Footnote 59: Hegel uses an expression somewhat similar to Milton's\n\"Among the faithless faithful only he.\" _Den Bisherigen_ refers\nprimarily, of course, to the Persian and Hindoo peoples.]\n\n[Footnote 60: _Wie des Innern \u00fcberhaupt_, _i.e._, the Inward with its\nsignificance as the Absolute.]\n\n\n[Footnote 61: _In seiner Abgeschiedenheit vom Leben_. In other words\nthe corpse was preserved as still the only appropriate external form of\nLife. Though Hegel separates the two aspects of Egyptian belief they\nwere necessary concomitants of each other.]\n\n[Footnote 62: I have translated _Innerem_ here by \"soul,\" but it\nexpresses of course too much if taken strictly in its most personal\nsense.]\n\n[Footnote 63: _Aberglaube_, not \"superstition\" so much as belief that\nis intuitive, not rationally deduced. The emphasis is on _ahnt._]\n\n[Footnote 64: Hegel puts it in the rather obscure and contradictory way\nthat the human figure is represented as \"still _having_ the most unique\nform of subjective intensity (_Das eigenste Innre der Subjectivit\u00e4t_)\noutside it.\"]\n\n[Footnote 65: That is, the mythological history of the God.]\n\n[Footnote 66: Lit., \"Which alone is able to apply itself (that is, to\nthe work of interpretation) in a variety of directions.\"]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nTHE SYMBOLISM OF THE SUBLIME\n\n\nThe perspicuity that has no riddles to expound, which is the object\nof symbolic art and veritably the mark of Spirit self-clothed to the\nperfect measure of its own substance, can only be attained on condition\nthat first and foremost the significance be presented to consciousness\ndistinct and separate from all the phenomena of external existence.\nTo the union of both immediately envisaged we have traced the absence\nof art among the ancient Parsees. The contradiction involved in their\nseveration, followed by the association which it then stimulated\nunder the mode of immediacy, was the source of the fantastic type of\nHindoo symbolism. Finally, we have seen that in Egypt, too, the free\nand unfettered recognition of the Inward principle and a significance\nessentially independent from the phenomenon was lacking; and this\nresulted in the mystery and obscurity of a symbolism still more\ncomplete.\n\nThe first decisive act of purification, or, in other words, express\nseparation of the essential substance[67] from the sensuous present,\nthat is from the empirical facts of external appearance, we must\naccordingly seek for in the Sublime, which exalts the Absolute above\nevery form of immediate existence, and thereby effects that initiatory\nmode of its abstract liberation which is the basis of the spiritual\ncontent. As Spirit in its concreteness the significance is not yet\napprehended; but it is, however, conceived as an Inwardness essentially\nexistent, reposing on its own resources, and of such a nature that\npurely finite phenomena are alone inadequate to express its truth.\n\nKant has raised a very interesting distinction between the idea of the\nsublime and the beautiful; and indeed all that he discusses in the\nfirst part of his critique of the Judgment from the twentieth section\nto the end--in spite of its considerable prolixity and its reduction of\nevery form of determination to a fundamentally subjective principle,\nwhether it be the content of feeling, imagination, or reason--still\npossesses a real interest. We may in fact recognize this very reduction\non the ground of its general principle of relation to be just[68]; in\nother words, to borrow Kant's own expressions, if the matter of our\nconsideration is primarily the Sublime in Nature, it is not in any fact\nof Nature, but only in the content of our emotional life that such a\nSublime is to be discovered, and, further, only in so far as we are\nconscious of a Nature peculiar to ourselves which involves the added\nassumption of one that lies outside of us. The statement of Kant is\nto be taken in this sense where he says: \"The true sublime cannot be\nenclosed in any sensuous form; it is only referable to the ideas of\nreason, which, albeit no truly adequate representation can be given\nthem, are excited and awakened to life within the human soul by just\nthis very incompatibility of the permissibly sensuous representation\nwith its object[69].\" The sublime is, in short, generally the attempt\nto express the infinite, without being able to find an object in\nthe realm of phenomenal existence such as is clearly fitted for its\nrepresentation. The infinite, for the very reason that it is posited\nindependently as invisible and formless significance in contrast to\nthe complex manifold of objective fact, and is conceived under the\nmode of inwardness, so long as it remains infinite remains indefinable\nin speech and sublimely unaffected by every expression of the finite\ncategories.\n\nThe earliest content, then, which the significance secures at this\nstage consists in this, that in contrast to the totality of the\nphenomenal it is the essentially substantive _One_, which itself being\npure Thought is only present to thought in its purity. Consequently\nit is no longer possible to inform this substance under the mode\nof externality, and to that extent all real symbolical character\ndisappears. If, however, an attempt is made to envisage this essential\nunity for sense-perception, such is only possible under a mode of\nrelation according to which, while retaining its substantive character,\nit is further apprehended as the creative force of everything external,\nin which it therefore discovers a means of revelation and appearance,\nand with which it is accordingly joined in a positive relation. At the\nsame time it is an essential feature in the expressed content of this\nrelation that this substance is asserted above all particular phenomena\nas such, no less than above their united manifold; from which it then\nfollows as a still more consequential result that the positive relation\nis deposed for one that is _negative_; and the negative consists in\nthis that a purification of the substance is thus effected from the\nphenomenal taken as any particular thing, that is, in other words, that\nwhich is also not appropriate to it and which vanishes within it.\n\nThis mode of giving form, which is annihilated by the very thing which\nit would set forth, so that it comes about that the exposition of\ncontent affirms itself as that which renders the exposition null and\nvoid is in fact the _Sublime._ We have therefore not, as we found to be\nthe view of Kant, to refer the Sublime exclusively to the subjective\ncontent of the soul, and the ideas of reason which belong to it, but\nrather form our conception of it as having its fundamental source\nin the significance represented, in other words the one absolute\nsubstance. We must, then, further deduce our classification of the\nart-type of the Sublime from this twofold relation of the substantive\nunity regarded as significance to the phenomenal world.\n\nThe characteristic which is held in common by both aspects of this\nrelation, whether we view it positively or negatively, consists in this\nthat the substance is posited above the particular appearance, in which\nit is assumed to have found a representation, although it can only be\ndeclared thereby under the form of a relation to the phenomenal in its\ngeneral terms, for the reason that as substance and ultimate essence\nit is itself essentially without form and out of the reach of concrete\nexternal existence. We may describe _pantheistic_ art as the first or\naffirmative mode of conception at this stage, a type of conception\nwhich we come across partly in India, and also to some extent in the\nliberal atmosphere and mysticism of the more modern poets of Persian\nMohammedanism, and finally in the still profounder intensity of thought\nand emotion which characterizes it when it reappears in western\nChristianity.\n\nGenerally, defined substance is cognized at this stage as immanent in\nall its created accidents, which for this reason are not as yet deposed\nto a mere relation of service, viewed simply, that is, as an ornament\nof glory to the Absolute, but are affirmatively conserved by virtue\nof the indwelling substance; and this is so albeit it is the One and\nthe Divine alone which is set forth and exalted in all particularity.\nBy this means the poet, who contemplates and reveres this unity in\nall things, and sinks his own individuality, no less than every other\nobject in this contemplation, is able to maintain a positive relation\nto the substance, with which he associates all other objects.\n\nThe _second_ or _negative_ celebration of the Power and Glory of the\none God is that genuine type of Sublimity which we find in Hebrew\npoetry. In this the positive immanence of the Absolute in the created\nphenomena is done away with, and in place thereof we have the _one_\nsubstance independently affirmed as sovereign Lord of the world, who\nsubsists over against the universe of His creations, which are posited\nunder a relation to this Supreme Being of essential and evanescent\npowerlessness. If under such a view any representation is attempted of\nthe Power and Wisdom of this Unity under the form of the finite objects\nof Nature and human destinies, we find nothing here that resembles the\nHindoo's distortion of such objects by the unlimited accretion to their\nmeasure. The Sublimity of God is rather brought home to our senses by\nmeans of a representation whose entire object is to show us that all\nthat exists in definite guise, with all its splendour, embellishment\nand glory, is a loyal accident in His service, a show that vanishes\nbefore the Divine essence and consistency.\n\n\n\n\nA. THE PANTHEISM OF ART\n\n\nAnyone who makes use of the word pantheism nowadays exposes himself\nthereby to the grossest misunderstanding. For, to take but one aspect\nof the difficulty, this word \"all\" signifies generally in our modern\nacceptation of the term \"all, and everything in its wholly empirical\nparticularity.\" We have at once recalled to us, for example, this\nparticular box with all its attributes, its specific colour, size,\nform and weight, or that particular house, book, animal, table,\nstool, oven, streak of cloud and so on, to the end of the list. When\nwe consequently find the charge advanced by not a few of our modern\ntheologians against philosophy, that it makes a God of everything in\ngeneral, it is quite obvious that this \"everything\" is taken in the\nsense we have just adverted to, and this it is which is thus bodily\nthrust upon her shoulders. In one word the complaint which attaches\nto it is absolutely unwarranted. Such a conception of pantheism only\nexists in the heads of stupidity, and is not discoverable in any form\nof religion whatever, not even in those of the Iroquois and Esquimaux,\nto say nothing of any philosophy. The \"Everything\" in what has been\ntermed pantheism is therefore neither this nor that particular thing,\nbut rather \"Everything\" in the sense of the \"_All_,\" that is the One\nsubstantive essence, which no doubt is immanent in particular things,\nbut is cognized in abstraction from their singularity and its empirical\nreality, so that it is not the particular as such, but the universal\nanimating essence or soul, or to adopt a more popular way of speaking,\nit is the true and the excellent, both equally a real presence in this\nparticular thing, which are here affirmed and indicated.\n\nThis it is which constitutes the real meaning of pantheism, and we\nshall only have occasion now to employ the expression in this sense. It\napplies first and foremost to the Orient, whose type of conception is\nbased on the thought of an absolute unity of Godhead and of everything\nelse as subsisting in this Unity. As such Unity and All the Divine\ncan only be presented to consciousness by means of the ever recurrent\nevanescence of the limited number of particular objects, in which\nits Presence is expressed. On the one hand we have here the Divine\nenvisaged as immanent in the most diverse objects, whether it be life\nor death, mountain or sea, and with still closer intimacy no doubt\nas the most excellent and pre-eminent among and in all determinate\nexistence. On the other hand, inasmuch as the One is this and again\nthat other and that other beyond it, and in short is discharged into\neverything, all particular existence appears for that reason to be\na thing which is cancelled and vanishes, for no particular is alone\nthis One, but this One is this manifold of particulars which pass away\nbefore semi-perception, as such particulars into the universe which\ncomprises them. For if the One is Life, it is also at another point\nDeath, and is to that extent not merely life, so that it is neither\nas life nor the sun nor the sea that these or any other objective\nrealities constitute the Divine and One. At the same time we do not\nfind here, as in the genuine type of the Sublime, that the accidental\nis expressly posited in the negative relation of mere service. So\nfar from this being so, substance is essentially identified with one\nparticular and accidental existence, inasmuch as it is this One in\neverything. Conversely, however, this very particular, because it\nis equally subject to change, and the imagination does not restrict\nsubstance to one definite existence, but moves over every definition,\nletting it fall that it may advance to another, is thereby relegated\nin its turn to the accidental, over which the One is superposed in the\nsublimity thus conjoined with it.\n\nSuch a way of viewing existence therefore can only be expressed in art\nthrough poetry; the plastic arts are closed to it, inasmuch as they\nbring before the vision the definite and particular, which in their\ncontrast to the substance present in the objects of Nature has to be\ngiven up in a determinate and persistent form. Where we find pantheism\nin its purity no plastic art is found as a mode of its presentation.\n\n1. Once more we may adduce, as a first example of such pantheistic\npoetry, the literature of the Hindoos, which along with its fantastic\nsymbolism has also elaborated the type of art under discussion with\ndistinction. In other words the Hindoo race, as we have seen, proceed\nin their conceptions from the point of most abstract universality and\nunity, which is then carried forward to the specific shaping of gods\nsuch as Trim\u00fbrtis, Indras, and the rest. This process of definition,\nhowever, is not adhered to with constancy; but to a like extent is\nsuffered once more to break up, so that we find inferior gods are\nabsorbed in superior gods, and the highest of all in Brahman. From\nthis it is sufficiently obvious that this Universal constitutes the\none persistent and unalterable basis of all. And if, as we freely\nadmit, the Hindoos evince the twofold impulse in their poetry, namely,\neither to exaggerate the particular existence, in order that it may\nappear to the senses compatible with the significance of the Absolute,\nor, in the converse case, to suffer every form of definition to pass\nas mere negation when contrasted with the one abstraction of Being,\nyet at the same time there is another aspect of their literature, in\nwhich we also find artistic representation under the purer mode of\nimaginative pantheism we have just described, a mode in which the\nimmanence of the Divine is exalted above all particular existence\nin which it is presented to sense and which as such disappears. We\nmay no doubt be rather inclined to recognize in this later mode of\nconception a certain similarity with that type of the immediate unity\nof pure thought which we found to be characteristic of the religious\nconsciousness of the Parsees. Among the Parsees, however, the One\nand Excellent is conserved in its independence as itself a fact of\nNature, that is, Light. With the Hindoos, on the contrary, the One,\nor Brahman, is merely the formless One; and this it is which in its\ntransformations through the infinite variety of the phenomenal world,\nfirst gives rise to the pantheistic mode of representation. So we read\nof _Krishna_ (_Bhagavad-Gita_, Lect. VII, II. 4 _et seq._): \"Earth,\nwater and wind, air and fire, reason and egoity are the eight pieces\nof my essential force; yet knowest thou somewhat more in me, a more\nexalted essence, which animates the earthly and supports the world. In\nit all existences have their origin. Ay, verily, thou knowest I am the\norigin of the entire universe as also its annihilation. Aught higher\nthan myself is not; in me is this All conjoined together, as a chaplet\nof pearls on a thread. I am the taste of sweetness in all that flows;\nI am the splendour in the sun and moon, the mystic Word in the sacred\nwritings, manhood in man, the clean savour in the Earth, brightness\nin flame, in all Being Life, meditation in all who repent. In that\nwhich has Life the Power of Life, in the wise Wisdom, in the glorious\nGlory. Everything that is true of its kind, and everything that is\nspecious and obscure proceeds out of me. I am not in them, but they are\nin me. Through the illusion of these three qualities all the world is\nmade foolish, and knows me not who am unalterable. Moreover also the\nDivine illusion, even M\u00e2ya, is my own illusion, which is hard indeed to\nsurpass, albeit all who follow after me step over this illusion.\" In\nthis passage we have indicated in the most striking terms just such a\nsubstantive unity as the one above discussed, not merely from the point\nof view of its immanence in immediate sense, but also from that of its\nadvance beyond and over all singularity.\n\nIn a similar manner _Krishna_ affirms of himself that He is the most\nExcellent among all the different forms of existence (Lect. X, 21):\n\"Among the star's I am the radiant sun, among the human signs the\nmoon, among the sacred Books the Book of Hymns, among the senses\nthe spiritual, Meru among the tops of the mountains, the lion among\nanimals, the vowel A among all letters, among the seasons of the year\nthe blooming spring-time, etc.\"\n\nThis enumeration, however, of superlative excellence, and we may add\nthe description of that which is merely a change of forms, among\nwhich it is always one and the same thing that is envisaged, despite\nany superficial appearance such may give us at first of a prodigal\nimagination, is none the less, by reason of this very equality of\ncontent, extremely monotonous and in general empty and tedious.\n\n2. Under a higher mode and in a freer manner from the subjective point\nof view we find, _secondly_, oriental pantheism is elaborated in\nMohammedanism more particularly among the _Persians._\n\nAnd here we are confronted with a relation of some singularity when we\ndirect our attention expressly to the point of view of the individual\npoet.\n\n(_a_) To explain this more fully we would point out that so long as\nthe poet yearns to behold the Divine in everything, and really so\nbeholds it, he also surrenders his own personality; but, while doing\nso, he realizes quite as vividly the immanence of the Divine in his\nspiritual world thus expanded and delivered; and consequently there\ngrows up within him that joyful ardour of the soul, that liberal\nhappiness, that revel of bliss, which is so peculiar to the Oriental,\nwho in freeing himself from his own particularity seems wholly to\nsink himself in the Eternal and Absolute, and henceforth to know\nand feel the image and presence of the Divine in all things. Such a\nself-absorption in the Divine, such an intoxicated life of bliss in\nGod borders closely on mysticism. Under this aspect no volume is more\nfamous than the Oschelaleddin-Rumi, of which R\u00fcckert, with the help of\nhis marvellous powers of expression, which enable him to make light of\nboth words and rhymes with all the wealth and freedom of the phantasy\nthat comes so natural to the Persian poet, has supplied us with the\nfairest examples. Love to God, with whom man identifies himself in most\nboundless surrender, beholding Him as the One through every part of His\nUniverse, with whom and to whom every and each thing is related and\nreferred--this it is that gives us the focus of this type of thought, a\ncentre which radiates in every direction.\n\n(_b_) And, further, while in the true type of the sublime, as will\nappear shortly, the most excellent objects and the most glorious\nshapes are employed merely as the ornament of God, and as servants to\ncelebrate the splendour and majesty of the One, being set before our\neyes to do Him honour as Lord of all creation, in pantheism, on the\ncontrary, it is the immanence of the Divine in external fact which\nexalts the determinate existence itself of the world, Nature, and\nhumanity to its own self-substantial glory. The identical Life of\nSpirit in the phenomena of Nature and all human relations animates and\nspiritualizes the same in their own nature, and is further the source\nof that characteristic attitude of subjective feeling in the soul of\nthe poet toward the objects he celebrates in his song. Suffused with\nthe animating influx of this glory the soul is essentially serene,\nindependent, free, secure in its comprehension and greatness; and\nin this positive identification of itself with such qualities it\npenetrates imaginatively with its life into the very heart of objective\nexistence, sharing the restful unity that it finds there, and grows up\nin most blissful, most blithesome intimacy with the natural world and\nits munificence, with the drinking-booth no less than the beloved,\nand, in short, all that is held worthy of praise or affection. We find,\nno doubt, the same kind of self-absorption in the romantic temperament\nof the West. Generally speaking, however, and more particularly in\nthe North, it is not so gladsome, spontaneous, or free from yearning;\nor, at least, it remains more exclusively shut up in itself, and is\nconsequently selfish and sentimental. A spiritual mood of this type, in\nits depression and gloom, finds its most forceful outlet in the popular\nsongs of barbarous peoples. The spontaneous and joyful emotional\natmosphere is, on the contrary, congenial to the East, and particularly\ncharacteristic of the Mohammedan Persians, who openly and gladly\nsurrender themselves with all their soul to the Divine influence, and\nindeed to everything that appears to merit such devotion, while they\ndo not fail to retain the freedom of independence in such surrender,\nand consciously to preserve the same in their attitude to the world and\nall that surrounds them. We may, in fact, observe in the ardour of this\npassion, the most expansive ecstasy and parrhesia[70] of the emotional\nlife, through which, in its inexhaustible wealth of gorgeous and\nsplendid images, one emphatic note of joy, beauty, and happiness rings\nagain and again. If the Oriental suffers or is unfortunate he takes\nhis reverses as the unalterable fiat of Destiny, and falls back upon\nthe strength of his own resources without any increase of depression,\nsensitiveness, or vexation of spirit. In the poetry of Hafis we hear\noften enough of the lover's woes and laments[71], as of many another\nkind, but our poet persists through grief, no less than in happiness,\nas free of care as ever. This is the mood of that sometime refrain:\n\n/$\n     For thanks, in that the present glow\n       Of friendship circles thee,\n     Light strong the taper e'en in woe,\n       And joyful be.\n$/\n\nThe taper teaches us both to laugh and to weep; it laughs through the\nflame of shining merriment, albeit it melts at the same time in hot\ntears; in the act of consumption it spreads wide the brightness of\njoviality. This is also the general character throughout of this type\nof poetry.\n\nAmong the objects frequently referred to in Persian poetry we\nmay mention flowers and jewels, and, above all, the rose and the\nnightingale. It is a matter of frequent occurrence to represent the\nnightingale as bridegroom of the rose. This gift of personality to the\nrose and love to the nightingale may be abundantly illustrated from\nHafis. \"Out of gratefulness, O rose,\" he sings, \"that thou art the\nsultana of Beauty, see to it that thou settest not a proud face to the\nlove of the nightingale.\" The poet himself speaks of the nightingale\nof his own soul. When we of the West, on the contrary, refer in our\npoetry to roses, nightingales, or wine, and such matters, we do so in\na wise much nearer to prose. The rose merely serves us for ornament,\nas in the expression, among others, \"garlanded with roses.\" If we\nlisten to the nightingale it is but to follow the bird with our own\nemotions; we think of the grape-juice, and call it \"the breaker of\nour cares.\" Among the Persians, however, the rose is no mere image or\nornament, no symbol, but itself appears to the poet as possessed with a\nsoul, as loving bride, and he transpierces with his spirit the rose's\nvery heart. Precisely the same character of a gorgeous Pantheism is\nstill impressed on the most modern Persian poems. Herr von Hammer, for\ninstance, has given us a description of a poem which was forwarded,\namong other gifts of the Shah, to the Emperor Francis in the year 1819.\nIt contains an account of the exploits of the Shah in 33,000 distiches,\nwho made a present of his own name to the Court poet in question.\n\n(_c_) Goethe, too--here in contrast with the more perturbed atmosphere\nand the concentrated emotion of the poetry of his youth--was carried\naway in advanced age by the breadth of this careless and blithesome\nspirit; and though already a veteran, swept through by the breath\nof the East, dedicated the evening glow of his poetic passion, in a\nflood of extraordinary fervour to this freedom of emotion which, even\nwhere controversy is the sub ect-matter, still retains the beauty of\nits careless temper. The songs of his West\u00f6stlicher Divan, are by no\nmeans the mere play of trivial social urbanities, but originate in a\nprecisely similar spirit of free and unrestrained emotion. In a song of\nhis to Suleica they are thus described by himself:\n\n/$\n     Pearls from the poet,\n     Thine is the treasure,\n     Thine was the big swell\n     Of passion tumultuous,\n     Which strewed them on desolate\n     Strand of his life.\n     Gold-tips I call it,\n     Pierced with bright jewels,\n     Tenderly conned o'er\n     By tapering fingers.\n$/\n\n\"Take them,\" he exclaims to his beloved:\n\n/$\n     Circle thy neck with them,\n     Close, close to thy breast!\n     These raindrops of Allah\n     The meek shell hath ripened.\n$/\n\nPoetry such as this is the product of an experience of the widest\nrange, a sense which has held its own in many storms, a depth and also,\ntoo, a youth of the heart--in other words:\n\n/$\n     World of Life's own drift of forces,\n     World, the wealth of whose wave-roll\n     Caught afar the bulbul's passion,\n     Won the song which shook the soul.\n$/\n\n3. In this unity of pantheism, moreover, if emphasized in its relation\nto _personal_ life, which feels itself united with God thereby, and\nthe Divine as this presence intuitively cognized, we have, speaking\ngenerally, that type of _mysticism_ which, under this more intimate\nmode, has also been elaborated in the pale of Christendom. We will\nadduce but one example, namely, that of Angelus Silecius, who, with the\ngreatest audacity and depth of conception and emotional fervour, has\nexpressed the essential presence of God in objective Nature, the union\nof the self with God, and the Divine with human personality, with an\nextraordinary power of mystical presentment. The more genuine type of\nOriental pantheism, on the contrary, is inclined to insist more upon\nthe vision of the One substance in all phenomena and the self-surrender\nof the individual, who thereby secures the most supreme expansion of\nconscious life no less than the bliss of absorption into all that is\nmost noble and excellent by virtue of the absolute release from all\nfinitude.\n\nB. THE ART OF SUBLIMITY\n\nThe One substance, however, which is here conceived as the real\nsignificance of the entire universe, is only truly posited as\n_substance_ where we find it suffered to retire into itself as pure\nInwardness and substantive Power out of its presence and realization\nbeneath the shifting forms of the phenomenal, and thereby is _set\nforth_ in self-consistency as against all finitude. It is not till\nwe come to this intuitive vision of the essence of God as absolutely\nSpiritual and apart from all image, and thus opposed to the things of\nthe World and Nature, that the Spiritual is completely wrested from all\nthat pertains to mere sense-perception and Nature, and delivered from\ndeterminate existence in the finite. While conversely, however, the\nabsolute substance still maintains a relation to the phenomenal world\nfrom which it is reflected back upon itself. In this relation is now\nasserted that _negative_ aspect already adverted to, which consists\nin this, that the entire universe, despite all the fulness, power,\nand glory of its phenomenal contents, is expressly affirmed in its\nrelation to substance as that which is essentially of a purely negative\nsubsistence, a creation of God, subject to His power and service. The\nworld is therefore envisaged as the revelation of God, and He is the\n_Goodness_ which permits the created thing that has no essential claim\nto exist, none the less to exist in relation to Himself, nay, further\nto have independent existence and thereby freely to conserve Him. This\nconservation on the part of the finitude, however, is without real\nsubstance, and in opposition to God the creature is here assumed to\nbe that which passes away and is powerless, so that at the same time\nits _claim to existence_[72] is exhibited as a part of the goodness of\nthe Creator, which not only veritably affirms the impotence of that\nwhich is essentially nothing apart from Himself, but thereby asserts\nHis substance as the source of all Power. It is this relation, so far\nas it is set forth by art as the fundamental relation, both of content\nand form, which brings before us the art-type of the real _Sublime._\nThe Beauty of the Ideal and Sublimity no doubt present features of\ncontrast. In the Ideal the Inward transpierces external reality, whose\ninward essence it really is under the mode at least, that both aspects\nare adequate to each other, and consequently appear to be in perfect\nfusion with one another. In the Sublime, on the contrary, the external\nexistence, in which substance is envisaged for sense, is deposed\nin its opposition to that substance, such deposition and vassalage\nconstituting the only mode, by means of which the God who is in His own\nseclusion without form, and in His positive essence incapable of being\nexpressed by aught that is of the world and finite, can be envisualized\nby artistic means. The Sublime pre-supposes the significance in the\nself-subsistence of One, in relation to which externality is defined as\nin subjection, in so far as that Inward substance fails to appear, but\nits transcendent character is so asserted, that in the end nothing can\nbe represented save just this essential and active transcendency[73].\n\nIn the symbol the mode of the _external form_ was the main point\nemphasized. It must possess a significance, and yet fail completely\nto express it. In contrast to symbol of this kind and its obscure\ncontent we have now a _significance_ in the absolute sense of the\nterm conjoined with its full recognition. A work of art is now the\nactual discharge of pure essence conceived as the intensive purport of\neverything, of an essence, however, which deliberately affirms that\nvery incompatibility of form to significance, which was only implicitly\npresent in the symbol, to be the actually transcendent significance of\nGod Himself within the sphere of worldly existence, and above all that\nis contained therein.\n\nIt is a significance which is therefore sublime in the work of art,\nwhich is exclusively concerned to express the same as thus explicitly\ndeclared. We may no doubt with justice accept the description of\n\"_sacred_,\" as applicable generally to symbolical art, in so far as it\naccepts the Divine as comprised in the content of its productions; but\nthe art of the Sublime alone can make good its claim to the distinction\nwithout any deduction, for it is here alone that God receives all the\nhonour. In this sphere, owing to the fundamental character of the\nsignificance implied, the content is generally of a more restricted\nnature than that we find in genuine symbolism, whose relation to\nthe Spiritual is that of an effort and nothing more, and which in\nthe continuously shifting nature of its relations to to the world\noffers such a wide field, either for transformations of that which is\nspiritual into natural images, or of that which is essentially material\nunder accordant fusion with the Spirit.\n\nWe find as nowhere else this art of the Sublime, as a mode of its\noriginal appearance, in the religious conceptions of the Hebrew race\nand their sacred poetry. We say poetry advisedly, because plastic art\ncannot possibly be in question here, where it is assumed that no image\nwhatever is adequate to express the nature of the Divine, and that\nthe part of poetry alone by means of the spoken or written word can\nbe employed for such a purpose. A closer examination of this type of\nreligious conception will secure to us the following points of view\nmost worthy of our general attention.\n\n1. If we look at the content of this poetry under the aspect of its\nmost universal import, one of our first conclusions will be that God,\nas Lord of a world created to serve Him, is not conceived as incarnated\nin any form of the external, but rather as personality withdrawn\nfrom all determinate and worldly existence into the solitude of His\npure Unity. For this reason that[74] which in genuine symbolism was\nstill associated with supreme Unity, falls apart under the view we\nare considering into its twofold aspect, on one side the abstract\nsubsistency of God, on the other the concrete existence of the world.\n\n(_a_) Now God Himself as this pure self-subsistency of the One\nsubstance is essentially without form, and under this abstract\nconception cannot be brought closer to the envisagement of sense. That\nwhich therefore the imagination is able to seize at this stage is\nnot the Divine content viewed under the aspect of its pure essence,\ninasmuch as this latter precludes the possibility of artistic\nrepresentation under any form adequate to it whatever. The only content\ntherefore that is left open to it is that of the _relation_ of God to\nHis created world.\n\n(_b_) God is the creator of the universe. This is the purest expression\nof the Sublime itself. In other words we find that here for the first\ntime all those fanciful conceptions of _generation_ and purely physical\n_procreation_ of external fact by God disappear. Each and all give\nplace to the thought of creation by virtue of spiritual power and\nactivity. \"God spake: Let there be Light, and there was Light.\" A\nsentence dong ago cited, as a striking illustration of the Sublime by\nLonginus. And such indeed it is. The Lord of all, the One substance,\nproceeds, it is true, under the mode of self-expression; but the type\nof this bringing forth is the purest, nay, a mode of expression,\naetherial so to speak, and without material form, the Word that is to\nsay, the medium of thought as the ideal Power, in conjunction with\nwhose mandate that it shall exist, the existing thing is veritably and\nimmediately posited under the relation of tacit obedience.\n\n(_c_) Into this created world, however, God is not conceived to pass\nover as into His reality; rather He abides withdrawn behind Himself,\nalbeit this opposition supplies no secure ground for a logically\ndeveloped dualism. For that which has been brought into being is His\nwork, possesses no self-consistency as apart from Him. It is solely a\nwitness to _His_ Wisdom, Goodness, and Justice in general, just that\nand no more. The One is Lord over all; His dwelling is not in the facts\nof Nature. They are solely the accidents of His Greatness, without\npotency in themselves, which can indeed suffer the show of His essence\nto appear, but are unable to make the reality of it visible[75]. And\nthis it is which constitutes the Sublime in its reference to the Divine.\n\n2. Moreover, inasmuch as the one God is thus severed from the\nconcreteness of the phenomenal world and posited in isolated fixity,\nwhile the externality of determinate existence is on its side defined\nand placed in subordination as the finite, both natural and human\nexistence are now viewed under the novel aspect that they cannot be\nconceived as manifesting the Divine without at the same time making\nvisible their essential finiteness.\n\n(_a_) The most direct way of bringing home to ourselves the\nsignificance of the above contrasted relations may be expressed in the\nstatement that here for the first time we have Nature and the human\nform set before us _cut off from the Divine_, prosaic fact in short.\nIt is a Greek tale that when the heroes of the Argonautic Expedition\npassed in their ships through the straits of the Hellespont, the\nrocks which hitherto had crashed open and shut like shears suddenly\ncame to a standstill rooted firmly for evermore in the ground. In a\nmanner somewhat similar the process of the finite toward stability in\nintelligible definition, as contrasted with the infinite essence, moves\nonward in the sacred poetry of the Sublime, while in the conceptions of\nsymbolism, where we have the finite overturned in the Divine and the\nlatter quite as frequently thrust forth from its own substance into\ntemporal existence, nothing is permitted to keep its due position. If\nwe turn, for example, from ancient Hindoo poetry to the Old Testament\nwe find ourselves at once in a totally different atmosphere, one\nin which we feel ourselves thoroughly at home, however much we may\ndiscover in the circumstances, events, actions, and characters an\nenvironment either alien or different to that in which we live. From a\nworld of tumble and confusion we are transported to another, and have\nhuman figures presented to us, which appear as natural as those we see\nwith our eyes, characters with the stable outlines of patriarchal life,\nwhich in the truth of their delineation stand so near that they receive\nan immediate assent from our intelligence.\n\n(_b_) In a general view of existence such as the above which is able\nto grasp the natural process of life and to accept as valid the claim\nof natural laws, _wonder_ for the first time is a really active\nforce. In Hindooism everything is a wonder and consequently is no\nlonger wonderful. No wonder can enter a world where the intelligible\nconnection of facts is invariably broken, where everything is wrested\nfrom its place and turned topsy-turvy. For the wonderful presupposes\nthe rational sequence of events no less than the clear perceptions of\nordinary consciousness which, when it meets with some example of causal\neffect produced by a higher law breaking the customary chain of events\nnow for the first time notifies the exception as a wonder. Wonders of\nthis kind, however, are no real or specific expression of the Sublime,\nfor the reason that the ordinary course of natural phenomena is\nconceived as quite as much the product of the Will of God and evidence\nof Nature's submission as such interruption of the same.\n\n(_c_) We must rather look for the real Sublime in the fact that under\nthis view the entire created world is limited in time and space, with\nno independent stability or consistency, and as such an adventitious\nproduct which exists solely to celebrate the praise of Almighty God.\n\n3. This recognition of the nullity of objective fact and the exaltation\nand extolment of God are at this stage the source of man's _own_\nself-respect, and in these he looks for his own consolation and\nsatisfaction.\n\n(_a_) In this connection the Psalms supply us with classical examples\nof the genuine Sublime, and are set forth as a precedent for all\ntimes of what our humanity at the highest point of its spiritual\nexultation has superbly expressed as the reflection of its religious\nconsciousness. Nothing in the world can here make good its claim to\nindependent subsistence, inasmuch as everything exists and subsists\nsimply through the Power of God, and only exists as in duty bound to\nextol His mightiness no less than to acknowledge its own essential\nnothingness. In the imagination of pantheism, which mainly unfolded in\nthe direction of material substance an infinite _extension_ of range\nwas most remarkable: what we most are amazed at here is the power of\nspiritual exaltation which suffers everything else to fall away that\nit may declare the unique Almightiness of God. An extraordinarily\nforceful illustration of this temper is the 104th Psalm, \"The Light is\nThy mantle which Thou wearest; Thou spreadest out the heavens like a\ncarpet, etc.\" Light, heavens, clouds, the pinions of the winds, each\nand all are here nothing by themselves, merely an external vesture, the\nchariot or messenger in the service of God. A further expansion of the\nsame idea is the extolment of the Wisdom of God, which has ordained\nall things. The springs, which leap from their sources, the waters,\nwhich flow between the hills, by the banks of which the birds of the\nair sit and carol among the branches; the grassy vine, which gladdens\nthe heart of men and the cedars of Lebanon which the Lord hath planted;\nthe sea, and its swarms without number; the whales which sport therein,\nall these hath the Lord made. And all that God has created He also\npreserves. \"Thou hidest Thy Face, and they are affrighted; Thou takest\ntheir breath away and they are gone and become again as dust.\" The 90th\nPsalm, that prayer of Moses, the man of God, insists expressly on the\nnothingness of man, where we read: \"Thou sufferest them to pass away\nlike a brook; they are like as a sleep, even as the grass, which is\nsoon withered, and in the evening is cut down and dried up. Thy scorn\nmaketh us to pass away; Thou showest Thine anger and we are gone.\"\n\n(_b_) Two ideas are therefore associated together with the Sublime,\nif viewed in its relation to the human soul, first, that of man's\nfiniteness, and secondly, that of the insurmountable aloofness of God.\n\n(_\u03b1_) For this reason the idea of _immortality_ is not to be found\nwhere this mode of conception obtains in its original purity; for this\nidea involves the assumption that the individual self, the soul, the\nspirit of man is essentially a self-subsistent entity. In the religion\nof the Sublime it is only the One that is apprehended as imperishable;\nopposed to that all else merely subsists and passes away, is neither\nessentially free nor infinite.\n\n(_\u03b2_) And, further, on a similar ground man is conceived in his\nabsolute _unworthiness_ before God; his exaltation consists in the fear\nof the Lord, in a trembling before His scorn. Over and over again, with\na directness which tears aside every veil and opens the very depths, we\nhave the cry of the soul to God depicted, the sorrow over the sense of\nits nothingness, increasing lament and groanings unutterable.\n\n(_\u03b3_) On the other hand if the individual persist in his finiteness of\nopposition to God, this deliberately willed persistence is wickedness,\nwhich as _evil_ and _sin_ belongs only to the natural and human\ncondition, and is conceived as remote from the One undifferentiated\nsubstance as pain and everything else that is essentially negative.\n\n(_c_) _Thirdly_, however, within this very condition of spiritual\nnakedness, and, in despite of it, man secures a freer and more\nindependent position. On the one hand out of the fundamental repose and\nconstancy of God viewed in reference to His Will and the commands which\nthat Will imposes upon humanity, arises the _Law_; while under another\npoint of view the wholly unambiguous distinction between that which is\nhuman and that which is Divine, between the finite and the Absolute, is\nimplied in this type of human exaltation. Therewith the judgment upon\ngood and evil, and the onus of decision in respect to either the one or\nthe other is transferred to the individual soul itself. This relation\nto the Absolute, and the question it involves as to the fittingness or\nunfittingness of man over against the same presents, therefore, also\nan aspect, which applies to the individual himself, his own behaviour\nand action. In other words we may trace in man's rightful acts and his\nfollowing of the Law a relation to God which is, side by side with\nthe former one, an affirmative relation, a relation which has to\nbring generally the external condition of his existence, whether it\nbe positive or negative, weal, enjoyment and satisfaction, or pain,\nunhappiness and oppression into union with the obedience of his heart\nor his stubbornness of spirit against the Law, and accept the same in\nthe one case as favour and reward, in the other as trial and punishment.\n\n[Footnote 67: _Des An-und-f\u00fcr-sich-seyenden, i.e._, the explicit\ncontent of all that is implied in actuality cognized as an object in\nitself.]\n\n[Footnote 68: According to Hegel the conception of Kant is right in\nthat (_a_) He makes the Sublime to consist in a relation between the\nphenomenal fact and something which it is not; and (_b_) that he lays\nit down that no mere representation by means of phenomenal form can\nadequately express it. He is wrong, however, in that he refers the\nSublime for its source wholly to the subjective content, _i.e._, that\nNature which is peculiar to ourselves (_in uns._)]\n\n[Footnote 69: \"Critique of the Judgment,\" 3rd ed., p. 77.]\n\n[Footnote 70: Parrhesia, _i.e._, \u03c0\u1f00\u03c1\u03c1\u1f25\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1,--speaking freely or beyond\nordinary bound.]\n\n[Footnote 71: _Den Schenken_ should be _die Schenken_, and a few\nlines below _der Kerze_ should be _die Kerze._ I omit the _Schenken_\naltogether. Of course it is possible _der Kerze_ is Genitive, \"in the\nwoe of the taper,\" and the verb intransitive; but this is very harsh.]\n\n[Footnote 72: This appears to be the meaning of _Garechtigkeit._]\n\n[Footnote 73: _Sondern so dar\u00fcber hinausgeht, dass eben nichts als\ndieses Hinauseyn und Hinausgehen zur Darstellung kommen kann._ That\nis, the art of the Sublime is based essentially on a contradiction,\nfor while it assumes the One substance to be the significance of the\nexternal world, it is the truth of that significance that it points to\nthat which transcends externality.]\n\n[Footnote 74: The thought here is not strictly logical. What is\nassociated by symbolism with Unity is the external Other, what is\ndivided by Hebraic conception is the entire content of the Real\nboth in its spiritual and external aspect. But the general sense is\nsufficiently clear.]\n\n[Footnote 75: This I take to be the point of the contrast between the\nwords _scheinen_ and _erscheinen_.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nTHE CONSCIOUS SYMBOLISM OF THE COMPARATIVE TYPE OF ART\n\n\nThe result we have now arrived at in the above consideration of the\nSublime, and in contradistinction to the strictly unpremeditated\ntype of symbolization, consists partly in the _separation_ of its\nown independent Inwardness, consciously apprehended in its quality\nof significance, from the concrete appearance that is thereby\ndistinguished from it, partly also in the direct or indirect\naffirmation of the _incompatibility_ of the two above mentioned\naspects to one another, by which it appears that the significance as\nthe universal passes beyond the particular fact and its singularity.\nBut in the imagination of pantheism, no less than in the type of the\nSublime, the real content, that is the One universal substance of all\nconcrete existence, was unable to be presented to imaginative vision\nor sense-perception without some relation to created existence, albeit\ncreated under a mode inadequate to express the essence of that Unity.\nThis relation, however, was attached to the substance itself, which,\nin the negativity of its accidents, supplied the proof of its Wisdom,\nGoodness, Power, and Justice[76]. For this reason the relation between\nsignificance and content is also in the case of the Sublime, at least\nin a general way, of a kind that is both _essential_ and _necessary_,\nand the two sides thus linked with each other are not yet, in the\nstrict sense of the term, external to each other. It is, however,\ninevitable, for the reason that it is implicitly present in symbolism,\nthat this externality should come to be directly posited and appear\nin the forms we have now to consider in this concluding chapter on the\nart of symbolism. We may summarily describe them as _conscious_[77]\nsymbolism, or, in a still more direct way, the _comparative_ type of\nart.\n\nIn other words, what we understand by conscious symbolism is this,\nthat the significance is not merely independently cognized, but is\n_expressly_ set forth as distinct from the external mode, in which it\nis represented. The significance then appears, as in the case of the\nSublime, to receive an independent expression which is not essentially\nin the actual embodiment given to it under the mode employed[78].\nThe relation, however, of both to one another no longer continues\nto be, as in the type last examined, a mode of relation which is\nfundamentally due to the significance itself, but is a more or less\nhaphazard association, which may generally be expressed as the product\nof the _subjectivity_ of the poet, the absorption of his spirit in an\nexternal object, the result of his wit or invention; a mode, in short,\nwhich enables the poet at one time rather to make a beginning directly\nfrom a sensible phenomenon, and to imagine for it from his own mind\na spiritual significance cognate with it, and at another to select\nin preference as his point of departure the real or only relatively\npersonal idea, with a view to embodying the same, or even to do nothing\nmore than relate one image with another, which presents characteristic\nfeatures of resemblance.\n\nThis kind of linking together must consequently be distinguished from\nthat still na\u00efve and _unconscious_ symbolism in virtue of the fact that\nnow the individual recognizes the inward essence of the significances\nhe adopts for the content of his creation no less than, the positive\nnature of the external objects, which he employs as means of comparison\nfor the more direct presentment of the same, placing both in this\njuxtaposition with clear intention owing to the similarity he has\ndiscovered between them. The distinction, on the other hand, between\nthe present type and that of the Sublime is rather to be traced to the\nfact that though under one aspect it may be true that the separation\nand juxtaposition of the significances with their concrete shaping in\nthe work of art is itself set forth in express relief to a less or\nhigher degree, yet, on the other hand, for the reason that it is no\nlonger the Absolute itself that is accepted as content, but any defined\nand restricted significance whatever, the typical relation of the\nSublime falls away, and in its place a relation is set up within the\nact of severance thus intentionally made between the real significance\nand its embodiment, a relation which in effect produces the very result\nin the sphere of premeditated comparison that we found unconscious\nsymbolism in its own way proposed as an object.\n\nIn one word, so far as _content_ is here concerned, the Absolute\nitself, _the Lord of creation_, can no longer be conceived as the\nsignificance which Art seeks after. That this is so is rendered\ninevitable by the already obvious fact that on account of the\nseveration of more concrete existence from the notion, and further,\nif only under the mode of comparison, the juxtaposition of both sides\nthus separated, the category of_finitude_ is there and then accepted\nby the artistic consciousness, in so far as it conceives this form\nas the real and ultimate one; and for this reason, moreover, the\nimagined significances, being selected wholly from the sphere of the\nfinite, have no further association whatever with the Absolute as the\nfundamental significance of all created things. Sacred poetry stands\nout in entire contrast to this, for in this God is the exclusive\nsignificance of all things; as set over against Him, they have\nno stability at all, but vanish or are nothing. If, however, the\nsignificance is able to discover its image and parallel of resemblance\nin that which is itself essentially _restricted_ and finite, it follows\nthat it must itself to that extent be limited in its range, as, in\nfact, it is in the type of symbolic conception which now occupies our\nattention, where that which is found is nothing more than an image,\nnecessarily external to the content, selected purely at random by the\npoet for the sake of the _similarity_ it presents to the content, and\nas such regarded as relatively adequate thereto. For this reason there\nis but one trait left us in the comparative type of art, which is also\nshared by that of the Sublime, and it is this that every image, instead\nof embodying the fact and significance directly under a mode adequate\nto their full reality, is only taken to present an image and similitude\nof either.\n\nFor these reasons this kind of symbolization is, if we conceive it\napart as an independent whole, a generic class of subordinate rank.\nThe form which it supplies is merely the descriptive selection of a\nportion of sensuous existence immediately perceived, or of a prosaic\nidea of the mind[79], in other words, the significance is expressly to\nbe distinguished from it. And, further, in a measure such an employment\nof comparison in works of art, which are shaped out of homogeneous\nmaterial, and in their specific form constitute an indivisible whole,\ncan only assert itself as relatively valid, that is, as mere ornament\nand accessory, such as we find it, in fact, in the genuine products of\nclassic and romantic art.\n\nIt is a further consequence that if we regard the entire sphere of\nthis type as the union of the two stages which preceded it on the\nground that it not merely comprehends within itself the _separation_\nof significance from external reality, which is the fundamental\n_causa rationis_ of the Sublime, but also includes the _reference_ of\na concrete phenomenon to a universal import cognate with it, as we\nhave seen was asserted in the real type of symbolism, such a union\nis notwithstanding in no way a higher type of art; it is, in truth,\ndespite its very clearness, a superficial way of apprehending things,\nlimited in its content and formally more or less prosaic, which falls\naway into the consciousness of commonsense as fully remote from the\nsecretly fermenting depth of genuine symbolism as it is from the height\nof the Sublime.\n\nSo far as the _classification_ of our present subject-matter is\nconcerned we may observe, first, that in this act of comparative\ndifferentiation, which presupposes the significance independently,\nand affirms either a sensuous or imaginary form in a relation of\nopposition to it, there is the aspect held constantly throughout\nthat the significance is here accepted as of most importance, and\nthe form is solely the embodiment of the same and external to it;\nbut along with this the further difference makes its appearance,\nnamely, that it is sometimes the one aspect of this opposition which\nis first pre-eminently emphasized, and made the significant point of\ndeparture, while at other times it is the other. And owing to this\nfact we have either the embodiment presented us as an independently\nexternal, immediate fact or phenomenon of Nature, which is then\nrelated by comparison to a significance of a more general bearing, or\nthe significance is independently come by in another way, and only\nafterwards a mode of embodying it is selected from some external\nsource, it matters not what.\n\nRelatively to the above distinctions we may classify our material under\nthe two first fundamental and a third and other supplementary divisions\nas follows:\n\nA. In the _first_ it is the _concrete phenomenon_, whether the\nselection be made from Nature or human events, incidents, and actions,\nwhich constitutes both the point of departure in the process of\nartistic conception, and the substance of essential weight in the\nreproduction. It is no doubt exhibited solely on account of the more\ngeneral significance, which it contains and signifies, and is only so\nfar unfolded, that it may contribute to the object of embodying this\nsignificance in a specific occurrence or condition cognate with it. The\ncomparison, however, of the general significance and the particular\ncase is not as yet _expressly_ set forth as _subjective_ activity, and\nthe entire reproduction will not merely be the embellishment of a work\nwhich actually possesses a substantive position without it, but is set\nforth as itself claiming to give the character of an independent whole.\nThe types of this class are the fable, the parable, the apologue, the\nproverb, and the metamorphosis.\n\nB. In the _second_ phase the _significance_ on the contrary is that\nwhich is first presented to consciousness, and the concrete embodiment\nis that which is merely incidental or accessory to it, possessing no\nindependent subsistency of its own, but appearing as wholly subordinate\nto the significance, so that we are now also made more immediately\naware of the element of personal caprice in the selection of this\nrather than any other image. This mode of production is unable in the\ngreat majority of cases to reach the point of a fully perfected work\nof art, and is consequently forced to leave the forms it supplies as\nappurtenant to other artistic images. The important types of this\nclass are the riddle, the allegory, the metaphor, the image, and the\nsimile.\n\nC. _Thirdly_, and in conclusion, if rather by way of supplement, we\nhave yet further to include within our list the didactic poem, and\npurely descriptive poetry, inasmuch as in these types of poetry we\nfind, on the one hand, that the presentment of the general character\nof the objects in the clearness under which they are made intelligible\nto commonsense[80], no less than on the other that the exhibition of\ntheir concrete appearance receives a substantially independent form,\nand by doing so effects with elaborate completeness the severation of\nthat which only in its union and really reciprocal fusion is capable of\ngiving us a genuine work of art.\n\nThis separation of the two phases essential to the process of\nart-production carries with it the result that the various forms which\nfind their place in the entire subject-matter under discussion have\nmerely a claim to fall in as part of an inquiry into the modes of art\nin virtue of the fact that poetry, and only poetry, is in a position\nto express such a relation of self-contained independence as between\nsignificance and form. As opposed to this it is the very problem of the\nplastic arts to manifest such significant content in and through their\nexternal form and viewed thus externally.\n\nA. MODES OF COMPARISON, WHICH HAVE THEIR ORIGIN UPON THE SIDE OF\nEXTERNALITY\n\nThe attempt to arrange the several kinds of poetic production which\nare apportioned to this first stage of the comparative type of art\ncarries with it no little difficulty, and is a fruitful source\nof embarrassment. They are, that is to say, hybrid species of a\nsubordinate rank, which in no way whatever mark out any necessary\naspect of art They stand in the domain of Aesthetic presenting features\nanalogous to certain animal types, and other exceptional phenomena\nin natural science. In both spheres the difficulty consists in this\nthat in either case it is the notion of the science itself, which\nis the ground of its classification and specific differences. As\ndifferentia of the notion these are also at the same time distinctions\nreally adequate to the notional process, and intelligible as such;\nwith these latter such transitional modes are unable fully to conform\nfor the reason that they are merely defective types, which proceed\nfrom a previous phase that is fundamental without being able to reach\nthe next one. This is no fault of the notion, nay, supposing that we\npreferred to make such ancillary types the basis of our classification,\ninstead of pointing out their relation to the specific phases of the\n_notional_ process of our subject-matter, we should have presented us\nprecisely that aspect of them which was inadequate to this process\nas the irreproachable mode of their development. A true principle of\nclassification, on the contrary, is compelled to proceed from the true\nnotion, and such _hybrid_ types as those now discussed can only be\nsuitably placed where the genuine and independently stable ones show a\ntendency to dissolve and pass over into others.\n\nApart from such considerations, however, the artistic types referred to\nbelong to the _forecourt_ of artistic symbolism, inasmuch as they are\ngenerally incomplete, and to that extent _merely_ a search after art in\nits truth. Such a movement no doubt presents the essential ingredients\nof a genuine mode of configuration, but it lays hold of them in their\naspect of finitude, separation, and purely relative propinquity;\nit fails consequently to rank on the same level. When we discuss,\ntherefore, the fable, apologue, and the rest we must treat these forms\nnot as though they belonged to _poetry_ in the specific sense, as it\ndiffers among other things from music no less than the plastic arts,\nbut only with the view of pointing out the relation in which they stand\nto the _generic_ types of art. It is only thus their specific character\ncan be elucidated. To such an object the notion of the genuine types of\nthe art of poetry, whether epic, lyric, or dramatic, will not assist us.\n\nWe propose now to differentiate these forms in the following order;\nwe shall begin with the _fable_, proceed after that to discuss the\n_parable_, _apologue_, and _proverb_, and conclude our inquiry with the\n_metamorphosis._\n\n\n\n1. THE FABLE\n\nHitherto we have throughout merely dwelt upon the formal aspect of the\nrelation of an expressed significance to its embodiment; we have now\nfurthermore to elucidate the content, which declares its suitability\nfor such a mode.\n\nIn our previous consideration of the various aspects of the _Sublime_\nwe saw that at the point where we have now arrived, it is no longer a\nmatter of any importance to envisualize the Absolute and One in its\nindivisible Power by means of the nothingness and impotency of the\ncreated thing to rise up to that infinite transcendency. We are now\non the plane of the finite consciousness, and have only to concern\nourselves with a finite content. If we direct our attention conversely\nto the genuine symbolical type, to which the comparative is under\na certain aspect equally related, we find that here that _inward_\naspect, which stands in opposition to the form up to this point\nalways immediately presented, the natural shape, that is to say, is\nthe spiritual, a truth that even in Egyptian symbolism received ample\nillustration. To the extent, however, that everything natural is left\nstanding, and preconceived in its position of isolated _solidarity_,\nthe spiritual is also something both _finite_ and _defined_, that is\nto say man and his finite aims and the natural maintains a certain,\nalbeit theoretical[81], relationship to these objects, a significant\nsuggestion and revelation of the same to the use and weal of mankind.\nThe phenomena of Nature, storms, flight of birds, the constitution\nof the intestines of animals and so forth, in the significance they\npossess for human interests, are now accepted in a totally different\nsense to that they figured in the conceptions of Parsees, Hindoos, or\nEgyptians, for whom the Divine is still linked to the Natural under\nthe mode that man, as an integral part of Nature, moves to and fro in\na world full of gods, and his personal action consists in the display\nthrough his activities of this very identity of Life, whereby this\ndoing of his, in so far as it is compatible with the natural existence\nof the Divine, appears itself as a revelation and bringing forth of\nthe Divine in mankind. When, however, man is withdrawn into himself,\nand intuitively seeks for his freedom within the closed doors of his\nown substance[82], he becomes intrinsically the object of his own\npersonality; he acts, transacts his affairs, and works as he himself\nwills; he possesses a personal life of his own, and feels the essential\ncharacter of his aims as part of himself, to which the natural is only\nrelated as something outside him. Consequently Nature becomes insulated\naround him, serves him under such an aspect that in his attitude to the\nDivine he no longer secures an envisagement of the Absolute in her, but\nsimply regards her as a means, through which the gods enable him to\ndiscover such a knowledge of themselves as may contribute most to his\nadvantage, unveiling their will to the human spirit through the medium\nof Nature and suffering the purpose thereof to declare itself through\nmankind. An identity of the Absolute and Nature is here presupposed, an\nidentity in which _human aims_ are pre-eminently emphasized. A type of\nsymbolism such as this, however, is not within the province of art, but\nthat of religion. That is to say, the _vates_ or prophet subordinates\nevery significant relation of natural events, pre-eminently to the\nservice of practical ends, whether it be in the interest of the\nparticular designs of individuals, or in that of the common action of\nan entire people. Poetry, on the contrary, is bound to recognize and\nexpress even the practical situations and relations in a more universal\nform adapted to contemplation.\n\nWhat we have, however, to deal with now is a natural phenomenon, an\noccurrence, which, in its passage, exhibits a particular relation,\nwhich maybe accepted as symbol for a general significance in the\ncircle of human deeds and dealings, in other words for an ethical\nmaxim, a saw, for a significance, therefore, whose content unfolds\na reflection over the nature of the course which either is taken or\nought to be taken in human matters, that is, facts which are related to\nvolition. Here it is no longer the Divine will, which is self-revealed\nin its essential nature to mankind through natural events, and their\nreligious import. We have nothing more than a quite ordinary course of\neveryday occurrences, from the isolated reproduction of which we are\nable to abstract in a way commonly intelligible an ethical _dictum_,\na warning, ensample, or rule of prudence, by whatever name we choose\nto call it, which is set before us in a form that appeals to our\nimagination for the sake of the reflection it carries with it. And this\nis just the way in which we ought to regard the fables of Aesop.\n\n(_a_) In other words, the fables of Aesop in their original form are\njust such a mode of conceiving a natural relation or event between\nsingle natural objects generally, mainly between animals, whose\nintercourse with one another is based on the same practical necessities\nof life that are the motive force in that of humanity. This relation or\noccurrence, as viewed in its more general characters, is consequently\nof a kind that may happen in the sphere of human life, and as such\ncarries with it a significance for man.\n\nAs thus explained the genuine fable of Aesop is therefore the\nreproduction of a condition of animate or inanimate life, of some\noccurrence in the animal world for example, which is not by any\nmeans composed at haphazard, but is put together in conformity with\nnatural fact and genuine observation, and so reproduced in the form of\nnarrative that, in its relation to human existence, and particularly\nthe practical aspect of the same, a general maxim may be deduced from\nit. The requirement of _primary_ importance that it implies, therefore,\nis that the particular case in question, which is to supply the\nso-called moral, must not be purely _imaginary_, that is to say, first\nand foremost the substance of the composition must not present facts\nwhich run _counter_ to the mode of their appearance in real life. The\nnarrative may be further and yet more clearly characterized in this\nthat it does not record the particular case itself in its universality,\nbut rather the mode under which this, taken in its concrete singularity\nand as a real fact, is in such external reality the type for all action\nbased upon analogous circumstances.\n\nThis original form of the fable leaves upon it, and this is the\n_third_ point to which we direct attention, the impress of most\n_na\u00efvet\u00e9_, because in it the didactic aim and the deduction of general\nsignificances of utilitarian colour do not appear to be that which was\nthe original intention of the narrator, but rather something which\nturned up afterwards. For this reason the most attractive among\nthe so-called fables of Aesop will be those which correspond most\nemphatically with this na\u00efve tone and narrate actions, if such an\nexpression may here be used, or at least relations and events, which\nin part are founded upon animal instinct, partly are the expression of\nsome other natural relation and partly are generally put together for\ntheir own sake rather than exclusively composed as the fancy of the\nmoment happened to dictate. For this reason it is further sufficiently\nobvious that the motto _fabula docet_, which has attached itself to\nthese fables as we now have them presented us, either takes the true\nspirit out of them, or frequently is something like a fist in our\neyes[83], so that quite as often as not we are inclined to deduce the\nintended maxim's opposite, or one or two as good if not better.\n\nIn further elucidation of this conception of these Greek fables we\npropose now to offer a few illustrations. The oak and the reed stand\nin the teeth of the storm-wind. The slender reed merely bows before\nit, the stubborn oak snaps. This is a frequent enough occurrence in\na great storm. In its ethical suggestion what we have here is some\nman of high position and inflexible temper as opposed to one of more\nmodest station who, through his natural pliancy, is able in misfortune\nto keep himself secure on such ordinary levels, while the great man\ngoes to ground through his pride and obstinacy. An analogous case is\nthe fable of the swallows which we find in the Phaedrus. The swallows\nand other birds with them see a rustic sowing the flax seed, from the\ngrowth of which the bird-snare is to be made. The provident swallows\nfly away, the other birds think nothing of the morrow; they abide\nat home and are caught. A real phenomenon of Nature is also at the\nbottom of this fable. It is a notorious fact that in autumn swallows\nare off to southerly climes, and consequently are absent when birds\nare snared. The same thing may be said of the fable about the bat,\nwhich is despised by day and night, because it belongs to neither the\none nor the other. A more general human significance is attributed to\nreal prosaic incidents of this class, much as pious people are only\ntoo ready nowadays to interpret everything that occurs in a sense\nthat is edifying or useful. It is, however, not essential to such a\npurpose that in every case the true fact of Nature should appear at\nonce as obvious. In the fable, for instance, of the fox and the raven\nwe are unable at first blush to recognize the natural fact, although\nit is not wholly absent. It is, in truth, a genuine characteristic\nboth of ravens and crows that they set about cawing when they happen\nto catch sight of strange objects, whatever they may be, whether man\nor beast, in sudden motion. Natural relations of a similar kind lie\nat the root of the fable of the thorn-bush, which plucks the wool off\nthe passer-by, or wounds the fox that seeks refuge there, or that\nof the countryman who warms a snake in his bosom. Others set forth\noccurrences which may naturally form part of animal experience; take,\nfor instance, the first example of the fables of Aesop where the eagle\ndevours the cubs of the fox and carries off a hot coal attached to the\nsacrificial flesh which sets his nest on fire. And, in conclusion, we\nfind that others contain traits of old myths, such as the fable of\nthe dung-beetle, eagle, and Jupiter, where the circumstance borrowed\nfrom natural history--we will pass it by for what it is worth--appears\nto be referable to the different seasons of the year when the eagle\nand dung-beetle respectively lay their eggs; at the same time we may\nobserve a clear intimation here of the traditional importance of the\nscarab, which, however, even in our present example, is already treated\nwith an inclination toward comedy, an inclination still more pronounced\nin Aristophanes. As an excuse for not entering more fully here into the\nquestion how many of these fables can actually be traced to Aesop we\nmention the already well-established fact that only of quite a small\nminority--the last-cited one of dung-beetle and the eagle is among\nthem--can it be shown that they date from Aesop's time, or that in\ngeneral terms there is any flavour of antiquity about them to support\nthe view that Aesop is in fact their author.\n\nOf Aesop himself we are informed that he was a deformed and humpbacked\nslave; and for his place of residence we are transported into Phrygia,\nthe very land, that is, which marks the passage from the immediately\nsymbolical and the existence still fettered on Nature, to a land in\nwhich man begins to take real hold of the spiritual and himself as\nthe source of the same. In our present connection, no doubt, he does\nnot behold the animal and natural world in the way the Hindoos and\nEgyptians beheld it, that is, as something of itself, superior and\nDivine. He regards it with prosaic vision as something whose relations\nare only of service in the presentment of a picture of human act and\navoidance. His conceits are further merely the reflections of wit,\nwithout real energy of soul or depth of insight and a fundamental grasp\nof reality, without poetry and philosophy, in fact. His opinions and\nmaxims are, in consequence, fairly rich in sensuous image and traits of\ncleverness, but we never get beyond the digging away into mere trifles,\nwhich, instead of creating free shapes from the unfettered life of\nspirit, is contented to discover some additional aspect that is new\nin material already close at hand, such as the specific instincts and\nhabits of animals or other daily occurrences of little moment; and this\nis so because that which he would teach he is still afraid to express\nfreely, and is only able to make it intelligible in a kind of riddle\nwhich is at the same time always being solved. Prose has its origin\nin the slave, and in the same way prose clings to the entire type of\nconception with which we are now concerned.\n\nDespite this fact, however, the experience of almost all nations and\ntimes has in one form or another run through these old tales; and\nhowever much any particular people whose literature is generally well\nversed in fable may pride itself as possessing more than one fabulist\nof distinction, we shall find that their poetry is for the most part\nmerely a reflection of these primary sallies of invention, merely\ntranslated into the vernacular of the age. All that has since been\nadded to the general heritage of such conceits falls far behind the\noriginal legacy in real merit.\n\n(_b_) There are, however, among these fables of Greek descent a\nnumber which betray the greatest poverty of invention and execution,\nbeing mere pegs on which to hang the instructive moral, so that the\ncontents, whether they refer to gods or animals, have merely a formal\nsignificance. Yet even these are far enough removed from the modern\ntendency of doing violence to the animal world as we find it in\nNature. An example of this tendency is that fable of Pfeffel about\na marmot which collected provisions in autumn, an act of foresight\nwhich another marmot neglected, and so was brought to the condition\nof beggary and starvation. Or there is that other of the fox, the\nbloodhound, and the lynx, of whom it is narrated that they presented\nthemselves before Jupiter, together with the talents which exclusively\nbelonged to them of cunning, keen scent, and clear sight, and requested\nthat these gifts should be equally divided between them; the fable goes\non that they obtained such consent under these rather surprising terms:\n\"The fox gets a blow on the forehead, the bloodhound is good for no\nmore hunting, the Argus Lynx receives a cataract.\" That a marmot should\ncease to make provision for its wants, or that the three animals above\nmentioned should ever incidentally meet with, or be naturally capable\nof receiving, a proportionate division of their respective gifts is\ncontrary to all reason and consequently meaningless. A better fable\nthan those above cited is that of the ant and the grasshopper, or that\nother of the deer with the beautiful horns and the slender legs.\n\nConformably to the tenor of fables of this kind we have grown, as\na rule, accustomed to accept the moral of the fable as that which\nis of first importance, and to regard the narrative as _merely_ an\nexternal form, and consequently an event entirely _composed_ with a\nview to expound that moral. Embodiments of this sort, however, more\nparticularly when the occurrence described is wholly at variance with\nthe natural character of specific animals, are in the highest degree\ninsipid, attempts at invention which mean less than nothing. The real\ningenuity of a fable consists exclusively in this that it is able to\nimpart to that which already exists in determinate form a further and\nmore universal significance than that which is immediately presented.\n\nThe question has further been raised, in reference to the general\nassumption that the essence of a fable consists in setting before us\nthe actions and speech of animals rather than those of mankind, as to\nwhat it is precisely which attracts us in this allusion. We cannot\nsuppose, however, that there is after all much that is attractive in\nsuch a furbishing up of our humanity in animal form, even though it\nshould exceed or at least differ from that of a comedy of apes and\ndogs, where, apart from the sight of the general cleverness of the\ndressing up, the entire interest consists rather in the deliberate\ncontrast between animal nature as it really is and appears, and that\nrepresented as taking part in human affairs. On grounds of this sort\nBreitinger finds the attraction to consist entirely in the element\nof the _marvellous._ In the original type of the fable, however, the\nappearance of animals endowed with speech is _not_ put before us as\nanything uncommon or surprising. And for this very reason Lessing is\nof the opinion that the introduction of animals is really of great use\nin helping us to understand and _assisting_ the poet to _abridge_ his\nexposition; in other words we are well acquainted with the qualities\nof animals, the cuteness of the fox, the magnanimity of the lion, the\nvoracity and violence of the wolf, and are consequently able to set\nbefore our minds a concrete image in place of such abstract qualities.\nAn advantage of this kind, however, in no essential degree mitigates\nthe triviality of the relation when it has become one purely of form,\nand generally it is even a disadvantage to place animals thus before\nus instead of men, for the reason that the animal form remains a mask,\nwhich, so far as intelligibility is concerned, _veils_ fully as much as\nit _declares_ the significance.\n\nThe most important fable of this kind should be in that case the\nold history of Reinecke, the fox, which is notwithstanding strictly\nspeaking no fable at all.\n\n(_c_) In other words we may in conclusion add a _third_ type of the\nfable, in which we find that there is already a tendency to pass beyond\nthe real boundaries of the type. The ingenuity of a fable consists, as\nalready pointed out, in the discovery of particular cases among the\nvariety of natural phenomena, which we are able to use as evidential\nsupport of general reflections upon human action and behaviour, without\nessentially displacing the animal and natural world from its own native\nmode of existence. For the rest this general application or adaptation\nof the particular case to the so-called moral is an exercise of\npersonal caprice, or shall we say native wit, and is therefore to all\nintents and purposes an affair of pleasantry. It is this aspect which\nreceives the main emphasis in the type of fable now before us. The\nfable is in fact accepted as a witty jest. Goethe has written many a\ndelightful and ingenious poem in this vein. The following lines occur\nin one of them, which is entitled \"The Barking Dog\":\n\n/$\n     Down every road afield we ride\n       On business bent or pleasure;\n     And ever in our wake full-cry\n       A hound's bark beats the measure.\n     Loosed from our horse's stable he\n       _Will_ always gallop beside us:\n     And this is what his clamour proves!\n       We ride, are with the riders.\n$/\n\nIt is equally necessary here, as in the case of Aesop's fables, that\nobjects which are borrowed from Nature should receive their native\naspect, and only bring before us in their action and habits human\ncircumstances, passions, and traits, which have a close affinity to\nthose of the animal world. The story of Reinecke is one of this kind,\nand is really more a fairy-tale than a fable in the strict sense.\nWe find in the content of this the reflection of an age of disorder\nand lawlessness, of evil generally, weakness, baseness, violence,\nand shamelessness, of unbelief in religion, that merely retains the\nappearance of a mastery, or indeed an established position in the\nworld-drama; and the result is that craft, cunning, and selfishness\nhave it all their own way. It is, in fact, the condition of the\nMiddle Ages, more especially as developed in Germany. The powerful\nvassals pay, it is true, some appearance of respect to the king; but\npractically every man does as he pleases--robs, murders, oppresses\nthe weak, betrays the king, finds a way somehow to the favours of the\nqueen, so that if the community just holds together that is about\nall. Such is the human content, which by this fable is preserved,\nnot in a mere abstract proposition but in an entire _complexus_ of\nconditions and characters, and by reason of its baseness fits in with\nthe animal nature exactly, under the forms of which it is unfolded.\nFor this reason we find nothing embarrassing in the fact that it is\nwithout any reserves transferred to the animal realm; and for the same\nreason the particular form it takes does not so much appear as an\nexceptional case cognate with it; rather we are inclined to feel the\nsingularity of it make way for a certain breadth of universality, a\nvision emphasizing the general truth: \"Such is the way things happen\nin the world.\" The comical side consists in the forms under which the\nwhole is put together, drollery and jest being freely mingled with the\nbitter earnestness of the situation; the general effect of which is\nthat we not only have human meanness admirably depicted through that\nof animals, but we are further made a present of the most entertaining\ntraits, and most characteristic anecdotes wholly peculiar to animal\nlife, so that, despite all tartness to the palate, our final view\nis that of a comedy whose main intention is neither bad nor purely\ncapricious, but one that has genuine earnestness to support it.\n\n\n2. PARABLE, PROVERB, APOLOGUE\n\n(_a_) _The Parable_\n\n_Parable_ has this general affinity with _fable_, that it accepts\nevents from the circle of common life, but also makes them the\ndepositors of a higher and more universal significance, expressly with\na view that the same shall become intelligible and objective by means\nof that daily occurrence in its ordinary guise. A difference, however,\nat once asserts itself between the parable and fable, and it is this,\nthat the former selects such occurrences in _human_ action and habits,\nas we have them every day before our eyes, rather than in Nature and\nthe animal world; it then expands the particular case selected, which\nappears trite enough at first as such a particular, to the range of\nwider interest, by suggesting through it a higher kind of significance.\n\nFor this reason the range and the importance of the significances in\nwealth of _content_ can materially be increased and deepened[84],\nwhile, if we take the point of view of form, it is clear that the\nsubjective process of intentional comparison and setting out of a\ngenerally instructive reflection already marks the acceptance and\nappearance of a more advanced type.\n\nAs a parable, still united to a wholly practical end, we may view\nthe means of persuasion used by Cyrus to induce the Persians to\nrebel (Herod., I, cap. 126). His letter to the Persians advised them\nto betake themselves to a certain spot provided with sickles. When\nthere he set them all on the first day to clear with hard labour a\ncertain field overgrown with thistles. On the following day, however,\nafter they had rested and bathed, he conducted them to a meadow\nand supplied them with ample cheer in the shape of food and wine.\nFinally, at the close of the feast, he asked of them which of the two\ndays had proved the most enjoyable. All voted naturally for to-day\nrather than yesterday; the former had brought them only good things,\nwhile the latter had been a day of weariness and toil. On this Cyrus\nexclaimed: \"Follow me, and many will be the good days such as the\npresent has brought you. Refuse to follow me, and countless labours\nare in store quite a match for those of yesterday.\" Of a type akin\nto the above, though of profoundest interest and the widest range\nconsidered relatively to their significance, are the parables we meet\nwith in the Gospels. Take, for example, that of the sower, a narrative\nwhich as such possesses the most unimportant subject-matter, and\nwhose significance centres throughout in the comparison it supplies\nto the preaching of the kingdom of heaven. The significance in these\nparables is wholly a religious gospel, to which the human occurrences,\nwherein such is imaginatively presented, stand in a relation similar\nto that between the animal and human world in the fables of Aesop,\nwhere the former elicits the meaning of the latter. Of a like breadth\nof content is the famous story of Boccaccio, which Lessing converted\nin his \"Natham\" into the parable of the three rings. The substance of\nthe narrative is also in this case taken by itself nothing remarkable;\nthe extraordinarily wide, reach of its content arises wholly from the\nway the differences between and the relative validity of the three\nreligions, namely, the Jewish, the Mohammedan, and the Christian, are\nsuggested by it. The same thing may be said of the latest novelties in\nthis type of art, the parables of Goethe for example. Take that of the\n\"cat-pasty.\" In this a famous _chef_, in order to prove himself hunter\nno less than cook, went out hunting, but shot a tom-cat instead of\na hare, which he then served up to the company sauced with his most\nconsummate art. This is no doubt a reference to the Light theory of\nNewton. We have here under the guise of the hare-pie which the cook\ntried in vain to elaborate out of a cat a reflection of that abortive\ntype of physical science which the mathematician will assume to be\nsomething better than it is. These parables of Goethe frequently have\na strong touch of drollery about them, an aspect which they share with\nhis fables by the help of which he was wont to shed himself of life's\ndisappointments.\n\n(_b_) _The Proverb_\n\nThe _proverb_ forms as it were the middle point of this sphere. In the\nform of their execution, that is to say, proverbs lean at one time in\nthe direction of the fable, at another to that of the apologue. They\ngive us a particular case selected for the most part from the daily\nwalk of mankind, which, however, is to be interpreted universally. Take\nthe example, \"One hand washes the other,\" or those others, \"Every one\nwheels before his own door,\" \"Who digs a grave for another, falls into\nit himself,\" \"Bake a pudding for me and I will staunch your thirst,\"\nand others like them. To wise saws of this type belong the many\napophthegems that Goethe has contributed to modern literature, often\nof exquisite grace and profound to a degree. These are not modes of\ncomparison of the type that the general significance and the concrete\nphenomenon are opposed to one another in separation, but the former is\nimmediately expressed with the latter.\n\n(_c_) _The Apologue_\n\nThe _apologue_ may be regarded as a parable, which not only serves\nin the way of _comparison_ to render visible a general significance,\nbut rather in this its very form reproduces and expresses the general\nmoral, the same being actually included in the particular case,\nwhich is, however, related as only a single example. Conformably to\nthis definition we may call Goethe's \"Der Gott und die Bajadere\" an\napologue. Here we find the Christian tale of the repentant Magdalene\nreclothed in accordance with Hindoo ideas. The Bajadere[85] exemplifies\nthe same humility, a like strength of love and faith; God puts her to\nthe proof, an ordeal she completely sustains, and her exaltation and\nreconciliation follows. In the apologue also narrative is so extended\nthat the outcome of it furnishes the moral itself, bare of any parallel\nto support it, as may be illustrated from \"The Treasure-Finder\":\n\n/$\n     Work by day and guests at night,\n     Weeks of moil, feasts of delight,\n     Such the Future's spell for thee.\n$/\n\n\n3. THE METAMORPHOSIS[86]\n\nThe _third_ mode we have to discuss in its contrast to the fable,\nparable, proverb, and apologue, is the _metamorphosis._ This is no\ndoubt of a kind which is both symbolical and mythological; it sets\nforth, however, expressly furthermore the natural in its opposition\nto the spiritual. That is to say, it confers on an object immediately\npresent to sense such as a rock, animal, flower, or spring the\npeculiar significance of being a _delapsus_ and a _punishment_ of\nspiritual existences. Such are the examples of Philomela, the Pieredes,\nNarcissus, and Arethusa, all of whom, through some false step, passion,\ntransgression or the like, became subject to irreparable guilt or pain,\nand for this reason were deprived of the freedom of spiritual life,\nand united to the substance of physical nature. From one point of view\nNature is not regarded merely under its external and prosaic aspect,\nsimply, that is, as mountain, river-source, tree and so forth, but it\nfurther receives a content which is bound up with some action or event\nof spiritual life. The rock is not simply stone, but Niobe herself, who\nweeps for her children. From the other point of view this human action\nimplies guilt of some kind, and this metamorphosis into the physical\nphenomenon is accepted as a degradation of Spirit.\n\nIt is therefore necessary to distinguish these metamorphoses of human\nindividuals or gods very sharply from the genuine type of _unconscious\nsymbolism._ To return to Egypt, for example, the Divine is here in\npart immediately envisaged in the mysterious and secluded intension\nof animal life, partly, too, the real symbol is here a natural form\nwhich is immediately associated with a wider significance cognate to\nit, despite the fact that this form is unable to supply the determinate\nexistence fully commensurate with it; and this is so for the reason\nthat neither in respect to its form or its content has unconscious\nsymbolism arrived at the free outlook of Spirit. Metamorphosis, on\nthe contrary, emphasizes the essential distinction between Nature and\nSpirit, and by doing so marks the _passage_ from that which is both\nsymbolical and mythological to that which is in the _strict sense_\nmythological, under, that is to say, a conception of the latter, which,\nalbeit that it proceeds in its myths from a concrete fact of Nature\nsuch as sun, sea, rivers, trees, earth, and the like, nevertheless,\nfurther and expressly sets this purely natural aspect on one side and\napart, divesting such natural phenomena of their inner content and\nindividualizing the same as a spiritual Power in the adequate artistic\nform of gods clothed in the lineaments of humanity, whether we regard\nthem as external shape or spiritual activity. In this sense Homer and\nHesiod have given to the Greeks their mythology, a mythology which\nby no means merely consists in the revelation of the significance of\nsuch gods, by no means is merely an exposition of moral, physical,\ntheological, or speculative doctrine, but one that is a mythology in\nthe strict sense, that is the origin of a spiritual religion under the\ngenuine guise of our humanity.\n\nIn the Metamorphoses of Ovid the most heterogeneous material is brought\ntogether quite apart from the entirely modern spirit in which myth is\ntreated. Beside the mere aspect of metamorphosis, which could here in\ngeneral terms only be conceived as a kind of mythical representation,\nwe have the specific character[87] of this type raised in an\nexceptional way in these narrations, in which embodiments of this sort,\nwhich are commonly accepted as symbolical, or are already received in\ntheir entirely mythical character, appear to have been converted into\nmetamorphoses, and that which is elsewhere united is so presented as to\nassert an opposition between its significance and form, and the passage\nof the one into the other. In this way, for instance, the Phrygian\nor Egyptian symbol, the wolf, is so separated from its intrinsic\nsignificance, that the same is converted into a previous existence if\nnot actually into the kingship of the Sun, and the existence of the\nwolf is conceived as resulting from an act of that human existence. In\nthe same way in the song of the Pierides the Egyptian gods, the ram,\nthe cat, and so forth are imaged as such animal forms, in which the\nmythical gods of Greece, Jupiter, Venus, and the rest have concealed\nthemselves from sheer fright. The Pierides themselves, however, by\nway of punishment, in that they dared to rival the Muses with their\nsinging, are changed into woodpeckers.\n\nLooked at from another side it is equally necessary, with a view to\nsecuring the more accurate definition, which the content wherein the\nsignificance consists essentially carries, that we distinguish the\nmetamorphosis from the fable. That is to say in the fable the binding\ntogether of the moral with the natural fact is an association that is\n_harmless_; for in this the thing of Nature, regarded under the mode\nin which it differs in its natural aspect from Spirit, does not affect\nthe significance, although there are certainly single examples of the\nfables of Aesop, which, with but slight alteration, would be instances\nof metamorphosis. As such may be cited the forty-second fable of the\nbat, the thorn-bush, and the diver, whose instincts are explained as\ndue to the ill-luck of former experiences.\n\nAnd here we must end our passage through this the first circle of the\ncomparative type of art. It started from that which was immediately\npresent to sense, that is, the concrete phenomenon. We proceed now from\nthe point we have arrived at to examine a further kind of significance\nwhich the type unfolds.\n\n\n\nB. COMPARISONS, WHICH IN THEIR IMAGINATIVE PRESENTMENT HAVE THEIR\nORIGIN IN THE SIGNIFICANCE.\n\nForasmuch as the severation of significance from embodiment is the\nhypostasized form for consciousness, within which the relation of both\noriginates independently, it is both possible and inevitable that in\nthe articulation of the self-subsistency of one side no less than\nthe other a start should be made not only from external existence,\nbut conversely and as emphatically from that which is _immediately\npresent_ to the conscious subject, in other words general conceptions,\nreflections, emotions, and principles of thought. For this inward\naspect is equally with the images of external objects a subject-matter\npresent to consciousness and in its independence of that which is\nexternal proceeds on its way from its own resources. In the case,\nthen, where we find the significance is the point of departure, the\nexpression, that is, the reality, appears as the _modus formulandi_,\nwhich is abstracted from the concrete world in order to give a visible\nand sensuously defined shape to the significance regarded as abstract\ncontent.\n\nOwing, however, to the reciprocally indifferent relation under which\nboth sides confront each other, this association which binds the two\nsides together is, as we have already seen, no essentially explicit and\nnecessary union; consequently the relation, such as it is, that is no\nactual reflection of objective fact, is rather a _product_ of _active\nmind_, which no longer even disguises this its fundamental character,\nbut rather deliberately exposes it in the form of its representation.\nThe very embodiment possesses this binding together of form and\ncontent, soul and body, under the guise of concrete _animation_[88],\nas essentially and explicitly the substantial union of both sides\nin the soul as in the body, in the content as in the form. In the\ncase before us, however, what is presupposed by consciousness is the\ndislocation of the two sides, and consequently their association is the\nvivification of the significance simply for consciousness by means of\na shape external to it, and an indication of a real existence, equally\nsubjective in its character through the relation of the same to the\ngeneral conceptions, emotions, and thoughts common to humanity. For\nthis reason what is mainly emphasized in these forms of comparative art\nis the subjective art of _the poet_ in his creative capacity, and in\ncomplete works of art we have mainly in our attitude to this particular\naspect of them to separate that which strictly is appurtenant to their\nsubject-matter and its necessary embodiment from that which is attached\nto them by the poet as mere ornament and embellishment. Such accessory\ndetail, which we cannot fail to distinguish, that is, consisting\nmainly of images, similes, allegories, and metaphor, is precisely\nthat part of his work in virtue of which he earns his title to fame\nwith most people, a tendency which is all the more common because it\nindirectly bears witness to the insight and subtlety which enables such\ncritics to discover our poet and draw attention to that aspect of his\ninvention which is so entirely his own. But for all that, as we have\nalready observed, in genuine works of art such forms as those we are\ndiscussing can only be regarded as accessory, although we doubtless do\nfind in previous works on _Poetics_ such incidental features treated as\nprecisely those which go to make the poet.\n\nFurthermore however, though unquestionably in the first instance\nthe two sides which have to be associated stand in a relation of\nindifference to one another, yet in order to justify the subjective\nrelation and comparison, the embodiments must also in the character of\nits content itself include the same relations and qualities under a\ncognate mode to that which the significance intrinsically possesses;\nthe grasp of this similarity is, in fact, the one sure ground upon\nwhich the setting forth of the significance in union with this specific\nform rather than any other, and the envisagement of such import by\nits means is based. Lastly, inasmuch as we begin here, not from the\nconcrete phenomenon, by the abstraction of a general characteristic\nfrom that, but conversely from this universal itself, which the\nintention is to have reflected in an image, the significance secures\nthe position which makes it stand out actually as the real object, and\nas such is predominant over the sensuous picture which is the _modus_\nof its envisagement.\n\nThe series in which we propose now to examine the particular types we\nhave mentioned as belonging to this phase of comparative art may be\nindicated as follows:\n\n_First_ in order, as most cognate to the previous stage, the _riddle_\nwill enlist our attention.\n\n_Secondly_, we have to examine the _allegory_, in which as the main\nfeature we shall find the abstract significance assert a mastery over\nthe external form.\n\n_Thirdly_, we have the class of the comparison in its strict sense;\n_metaphor, image_, and _simile._\n\n\n1. THE RIDDLE\n\nThe true symbol is essentially enigmatical in so far as the\nexternality, by means of which a general significance is made apparent,\nstill differs from the import it is intended to express: in other words\nit thereby raises the doubt as to what is the exact signification\napplicable to the form. The riddle, however, appertains to conscious\nsymbolism, and an obvious distinction between it and the genuine\nsymbol is to be found in the fact that in the former case the meaning\nis clearly and fully _recognized_ by the propounder of it, and the\nform which veils that which is to be interpreted by it is therefore\n_intentionally_ selected for this very purpose. The genuine symbol is\nboth before and after the act of selection an unsolved problem, the\nriddle, on the contrary, is essentially a problem that is solved. It is\ntherefore with very good reason that Sancho Panza exclaims: \"I should\nmuch prefer to hear the solution first and the riddle afterwards.\"\n\n(_a_) _First_, then, in the invention of the riddle, the point from\nwhich the process starts, is the apprehended meaning, the signification\nof it.\n\n(_b_) The _second_ step consists in the intentional selection of\ntraits of character and other qualities from the common experience of\nthe external world, which--such is always the aspect of Nature and\nexternal objects of every kind--are placed relatively to one another\nin piecemeal fashion, and in thus setting them forth in disparate\ncontiguity, which makes their singularity the more striking. And\ninasmuch as they are so placed they are without the enfolding unity\nof mind, and their array and association intentionally distract has so\nfar no intrinsic significance whatever. And yet for all that, and this\nis the other aspect of the riddle, they do expressly point to a unity\nin relation to which even traits to all appearance most heterogeneous\ncontain, notwithstanding, both a real sense and significance.\n\n(_c_) This unity, which may be styled the subject of these distract\npredicates, is just the simple preconception, the word that solves\nour riddle, to discover or divine which from the apparently confused\nmedley of the mode under which it is propounded is the riddle's\nproblem. Thus interpreted we may call the riddle the facetiousness of\nsymbolism, aware that it is such which puts to the proof acuteness\nof insight and aptness at putting things together, and finally, by\nstimulating the zest of solution, breaks into and destroys the very\nmode of presentation it has itself set up. In the main we shall find\nthis, form, therefore, most employed in human speech, though we\nmay find exceptional examples of it also in the plastic arts[89],\narchitecture, horticulture, and painting. With regard to its historical\nappearance the East is first and foremost responsible, and we may date\nits advent in that intermediate and transitional period out of the\nmore obtuse type of symbolism into one of more intelligent knowledge\nand comprehension. Entire peoples and historical epochs have taken\ndelight in the solution of such problems. It also plays an important\npart in the Middle Ages among the Arabs and the Scandinavians, and as a\nparticular example it is much in evidence in the minstrel tourneys on\nthe Wartburg. In modern times it is mainly under the more modest guise\nof recreation and purely social pleasantry that we cross it.\n\nIn the riddle we have opened a practically limitless field for\nwitty and striking conceits, which in their reference to any given\ncircumstance, occurrence, or object take the form of a play upon words\nor an epigrammatical sentence. On the one hand we have presented\nan object trite to a degree, on the other some conceit of the mind\nwhich emphasizes unexpectedly with conspicuous force some aspect\nor relation, which we failed to perceive in that object on first\nconfronting it, and which now attaches to it the light of a new\nsignificance.\n\n\n2. THE ALLEGORY\n\nThe counterpart to the riddle in this sphere of comparative art, where\nthe point of departure is from the generality of the significance,\nis the _allegory._ From a certain point of view this form, no less\nthan the former, endeavours to make more visible to us the definite\nqualities of a general conception through qualities in materially\nconcrete objects which are cognate therewith; but in contrast to that\nform this is not done in the interest of a partial concealment and\na mysterious problem; rather it is now quite the other way with the\nexpress object of absolute revealment; to an extent, in fact, that all\nwhich is external, and is as such utilized by it, must become through\nand through transpicuous with the significance which has to make its\nappearance therein.\n\n(_a_) It is therefore in the first place concerned to personify\nabstract conditions of a general character or similar qualities\nboth from the human and the natural world, such as religion, love,\njustice, strife, fame, war, peace, the seasons, death, and the like,\nand conceive them under the mode of _personality._ This subjective\naspect, however, is neither in respect to its content nor its external\nform in itself either a real subject or individual, but persists as\nthe abstraction of a general conception, whose content is merely\nthe _barren_ form of subjectivity which may be called as truly a\ngrammatical subject[90]. In other words an allegorical being, despite\nevery attempt to clothe it in the lineaments of humanity, entirely\nfalls short of concrete individuality, whether it be a Greek god, a\nsaint, or any other genuine example. It is, in fact, so forced to\npare away[91] from the substance of subjectivity, in order to make it\nconform with the abstract character of its significance, that all\nthe true definition of individuality disappears. It is therefore only\na just criticism of allegory to say that it is frosty and cold, and,\nhaving regard to the abstract quality of its significances, even in the\npoint of invention, that it is rather the result of the matter-of-fact\nunderstanding than that of the complete vision and emotional depth\nof genuine imagination. Poets, such as Virgil, for example, are\nparticularly ready to give us examples of allegorical individualization\nsimply because they are unable to create gods of the Homeric type of\npersonality.\n\n(_b_) _Secondly_, however, the significant character of allegorical\nmaterial is at once _defined_ in its abstraction, and only by means of\nsuch definition is it intelligible; the expression of such particular\naspects, for the reason that it is not immediately unfolded in that\nwhich is in the first instance a purely _generalized_ conception of\npersonality, is consequently forced to appear alongside of the subject,\nsimply as the predicates which elucidate the same. This separation of\nsubject from predicate, generality from particularity, is the second\nfeature of the frostlike appearance of the allegory. The envisagement\nof the determinate and specific qualities is borrowed from the modes of\nexpression, activity, and resultant effects which make their appearance\nin virtue of the significance, when that secures its realized form\nin concrete existence, or from the various means which subserve it\nin its true realization. For example, war is delineated through\nweapons, cannons, drums, and standards, etc.; the yearly seasons, by\nan enumeration of the flowers and fruits, which pre-eminently spring\nup under the favouring influence of the particular seasons. Objects\nof this kind may further receive purely symbolical relations, as, for\ninstance, Justice may be brought home to our minds by means of the\nscales and fillet, Death by that of the hour-glass and scythe. For the\nreason, however, that the significance in allegory is the dominant\nfactor, and the more specialized presentment is subordinate to it\nunder an equally abstract form, for it is, after all, itself merely\nan abstraction, the embodiment of such definable characteristics only\nsecures the validity of an _attribute_ pure and simple.\n\n(_c_) In this way the allegory is under both these aspects without\nvital warmth. Its general personification is empty, the definite mode\nof its externalization is only a sign, which taken independently has\nno longer any meaning, and the _centrum_, which is thus constrained to\ngather up the variety of the attributes into a focus does not possess\nthe potency of a truly subjective unity which is itself self-embodied\nin its real and determinate existence inter-related throughout, but is\nrather a purely abstract form, for which the substantial filling-up\nwith particular traits, which, as we have seen, never succeed in rising\nabove the rank of the formal attribute, remains as something external.\nConsequently we may say that in so far as the allegory sets up any\nclaim to real self-consistency, in which it personifies its abstraction\nand their delineation, it is not to be taken seriously. In other\nwords, that which is both implicitly and explicitly self-substantive\nis unable really to conform with an allegorical being. The _Dik\u00ea_\nof the ancients, for instance, is not on all fours with allegorical\nindividualization. She is universal Necessity personified, eternal\nJustice, the universally potent subject, the absolute substantivity of\nthe relations which co-ordinate Nature and spiritual Life, that is, she\nis the absolute Self-subsistent itself, in the train of whom all other\nindividuals are bound, whether gods or men. Herr Frederick von Schlegel\nhas, it is true--we have already referred to the fact--ventured the\nopinion that every work of art must of necessity be an allegory. Such\nan expression of opinion is only true if limited to the sense that\nevery work of art must contain a general idea and a significance which\nis itself essentially true. What we have above, on the contrary,\nincluded under the term allegory is a mode of presentation which only\nconforms to the notion of art incompletely, being itself no less\nin content than in form subordinate to it. Every human event and\ndevelopment, every relation in which life is concerned, possesses no\ndoubt intrinsically an aspect of universality, which may be emphasized\nas such, but abstractions of this kind are already to be found in the\ngeneral contents of consciousness, and merely to assert them in their\nprosaic aspect of generality and external delineation, which is the\npoint where the allegory halts, is still to fall short of the true\nsphere of art.\n\nWinckelmann has also written an immature work on allegory, in which he\nhas ranged together a large number of examples, but failed for the\nmost part to distinguish those which exemplify the symbol and allegory\nrespectively.\n\nAmong the particular arts within which we find examples of the\nallegory, poetry is really acting contrary to its laws when it takes\nrefuge in such a mode of presentment; sculpture on the contrary is in\nmost directions barely complete without it, more especially modern\nsculputure, which freely admits of that which is native to portraiture,\nand so must avail itself of allegorical figures in order to delineate\nmore closely the relative aspects under which the individual\npresentment is posed. On Blucher's monument, for example, which has\nbeen raised to him here in Berlin, we find both the genius of Fame and\nVictory, although, having regard to the general treatment of the war of\nliberation, this allegorical aspect is once more set aside by means of\na series of particular scenes such as the departure of the army, its\nmarch, and victorious return. Generally speaking, however, where the\nsubject of sculpture is portraiture the sculptor will avail himself\ngladly of allegorical representation as offering to the simplicity\nof his central figure the contrast of environment and variety. The\nancients on the other hand, on their sarcophagi for example, more\nfrequently made use of general mythological representations of such\nfigures as Sleep, Death, and the like.\n\nAllegory generally is far less common in the antique than it is in\nthe romantic art of the Middle Ages, although it must be added that\nsuch romance as it possesses is not really referable to allegory. The\nfrequent appearance of allegorical conception at this particular epoch\nof human history is to be thus explained. From a certain point of\nview we find that the content of the Middle Ages is preoccupied with\nparticular types of individuality and the personal aims, generally\nfocussed in love and honour, and resulting in vows, wanderings, and\nadventures, which are common to them. Individuals of this type and the\nevents of such lives invariably offer the imagination a wide scope\nfor the inventive faculties, and the composition of accidental and\ncapriciously imagined collisions and their resolution. On the other\nhand, in direct contrast to this motley show of worldly adventure we\nhave the universal, taking it here as the stability of the ordinary\nrelations and conditions of life, a universal which is not, as was\nthe case in the ancient world, individualized in the figures of\nself-subsistent gods; consequently we find it freely and naturally\nemphasized in independent isolation as such universality alongside\nof these particular types of personality and their specific modes\nof appearance and activity. If the artist therefore happens to have\nbefore his mind the general conditions of life we have adverted to,\nand assuming that he is desirous of giving artistic embodiment to them\nin some form other than the accidental mode common to his age, that\nhe wishes, in short, to emphasize their universality, he has no other\nalternative than to accept the allegorical type of presentment. This is\nprecisely what we find in the sphere of religion.\n\nThe Virgin Mary, Christ, the actions and dramatic events of apostolic\nhistory, the saints with their penances and martyrdoms, are, it is\ntrue, even here individualities in the full sense; but Christendom\nis also to an equal extent concerned with the general conceptions of\nabstract spiritual qualities, such as will not comply with the concrete\ndefinition of actual persons inasmuch as the relation of _universality_\nis precisely the mode under which they are presented, of which examples\nare Love, Faith, and Hope. And generally the truths and dogmas of\nChristendom are independently cognized by the religious consciousness,\nand a main interest even of their poetry consists in this that these\ndoctrines are emphasized in their _universal_ aspect, that Truth is\nknown and believed in as _universal_ truth. In that case, however, it\nis necessary that the concrete presentation should remain a subordinate\nfactor, itself external to the content, and allegory is just the form\nwhich satisfies this want in the easiest and most sufficient way.\nConformably to this the divine comedy of Dante is full of allegorical\nmatter. Theology, for example, in this poem is run together in fusion\nwith the image of his beloved lady Beatrice. This personification,\nhowever, wavers in the lines of its delineation; and this uncertainty\nof outline is that which constitutes the beauty of it, and places it\nhalfway between genuine allegory and a vision of his youthful love.\nIn the ninth year of his life he looked on her for the first time:\nshe appeared to him no daughter of mortal men, but of God. His fiery\nItalian nature conceived a passion for her, which the years failed to\nextinguish. And conscious that it was she who awoke in him the genius\nof poetry he finally sets himself the task, after he had lost in her\nthat which was most loved in the fairest flower of its promise, of\ncomposing that wonderful monument of the most intimate and personal\nreligion of his heart in the poetic masterpiece of his life.\n\n\n3. METAPHOR, IMAGE, SIMILE\n\nThe _third_ sphere of content attached to the riddle and the allegory\nconsists in the _imaged thing_ generally. The riddle veiled the still\nindependently cognized significance and the mode of its shaping in\ncognate, albeit heterogeneous and distantly placed traits of definition\nwas still of most importance. Allegory on the contrary emphasized\nthe perspicuity of the significance so strongly as the predominant\naim, that the personification and its attributes appear deposed to\nthe rank of mere signs. The imaged thing now connects this clarity of\nallegorical expression with that impulse of the riddle to envisage the\nsignificance which stands out clearly before the mind in the form of an\nexternality cognate with it; the result, however, is not that it gives\nrise to problems which have first of all to be solved, but rather that\nthe imaged shape appears, by means of which the preconceived conception\nis revealed with absolute transparency, notifying itself as that which\nit really is.\n\n(_a_) _The Metaphor_\n\nThe _first_ point we have to draw attention to in the _metaphor_ is\nthis, that it may be accepted at once as essentially a simile, in so\nfar as it expresses clear and self-subsistent significance in a similar\nphenomenon of reality comparable with it. In the comparison as such,\nhowever, both sides of the comparison, that is the real meaning and\nthe image, are definitely kept apart from each other, while on the\ncontrary in the metaphor this separation, albeit it is essentially\npresent, is _not_ as yet clearly _posited._ For this reason Aristotle\nlong ago distinguished comparison and metaphor by his statement that\na \"how\" is added to the former which is absent from the latter. In\nother words the metaphorical expression specifies but _one_ aspect,\nthe image. In the context, however, to which the image is attached,\nthe real significance which is intended lies so near that it is at\nthe same time immediately asserted without any direct separation of\nit from the image. When it is said, for example: \"the Spring-time\nof these cheeks,\" or \"a sea of tears,\" we are inevitably forced to\naccept such an expression as an image rather than an actual fact,\nan image whose significance the context at the same time expressly\ndesignates. In the symbol and allegory the relation of actual meaning\nto external form is not asserted either so immediately or necessarily.\nFrom the fact that an Egyptian staircase consists of nine stages,\nand a hundred other circumstances of similar pregnancy, it is only\nthe adept, the connoisseur, and the professor who will derive a\nsymbolical significance, and doubtless will scent out and discover\nmuch that is both mystical and symbolical into the bargain, which is\nso much ingenuity of research thrown away for the reason that what is\ndiscovered is not there. This may have happened often enough to my\nhonoured friend Creutzer, no less than our latter-day Platonists and\nthe commentators of Dante.\n\n(_a_) In range and variety of form it is impossible to exhaust the\nresources of metaphor; its definition, however, is simple. It is a\nwholly abbreviated comparison, in which we find, as a fact, image and\nsignificance are not as yet set in opposition to one another, but only\nthe image is introduced by it; at the same time, however, the meaning\nwhich is thus attached to the image is not its real meaning; this is as\nit were effaced, and by virtue of the content in which it is set we are\nenabled to recognize the significance which is really intended in the\nimage itself, albeit that meaning is not expressly asserted.\n\nFor the reason, however, that the meaning that is thus rendered\nintelligible under the image only comes to light by virtue of the\ncontext, the significance which is expressed in metaphor cannot claim\nthe importance of an independent artistic presentation; their mode of\nappearance is purely incidental, so that metaphors, in a still more\nemphatic degree, can only be employed as the external embellishment of\nan essentially independent work of art.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The metaphor is mainly used in the expressions of speech, which\nwe may usefully consider in this relation under the following aspects.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In the first place every language includes within its own\ncompass a host of metaphors. They arise from the fact that a word,\nwhich in the first instance merely designates something entirely\nsensuous, is carried over into a spiritual sphere. \"_Grasp\"_,\n\"_comprehend\"_[92], and generally a number of words connected with\nthe processes of thought, have in regard to their original meaning a\ncontent that is wholly sensuous, which is consequently abandoned and\nexchanged for the meaning applicable to mind; the first meaning is\nsensuous, the second spiritual.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) By degrees, however, the metaphorical aspect disappears in the\ngeneral use of such a word, which as the current coin of language is\nconverted from an expression which is not strictly accurate to one that\nis so, the effect of this process being that image and import, owing\nto the habitual frequency with which the latter is only conceived in\nthe former, cease to differ from one another, and the image merely\nimmediately presents the abstract significance itself instead of a\nconcrete mode of vision[93].\n\nWhen we take, for example, the word \"grasp\" in the sense applicable to\nmental life it entirely escapes us that there is any sensuous relation\nimplied between the hand and external objects[94]. In living languages\nthis distinction between genuine metaphor and words which already\nthrough usage have fallen to the level of a mere means of expression\nis readily established; the reverse is the case with dead languages,\nfor the reason that here mere etymology is unable finally to bring our\nminds to a decision, inasmuch and in so far as the question does not\ndepend on the original source of that word, and its general development\nin speech, but first and foremost on the fact whether a word which\nhas all the appearance of being used in a picturesque and metaphorical\nsense had or had not already lost by habitual usage under a meaning\napplying exclusively to spirit, and in the speech when alive, its first\nsensuous significance and been absorbed wholly in that higher sense.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) When this takes place the invention of new metaphors, which\nare the exclusive product of the poetical imagination becomes for the\nfirst time a vital necessity. That in which this invention is mainly\nconcerned consists _first_ in transferring the phenomena, activities,\nand conditions of a higher level of fact in a way that illustrates\nthe content of less important material, and in bringing to light\nsignificances of such inferior matter in the form and image which\nstands above them. The organic, for example, is by itself essentially\nof higher importance than the inorganic, and to carry forward that\nwhich has no life within, the range of vital phenomenal enhances its\nexpression. We may illustrate this with the saying of Ferdusi: \"The\nkeenness of my sword _devours_ the brain of the lion, and _drinks_ the\ndark blood of the courageous.\" In a yet more enhanced degree we find\nthe same result when that which is of Nature and sensuous is imaged,\nand thereby raised and ennobled in the form of _spiritual_ phenomena.\nSo we have such common turns of speech as \"_smiling_ fields,\" and\n\"_angry_ flood,\" or in the language of Calderon: \"The waves _sigh_\nbeneath the burden of ships.\" In these examples that which exclusively\napplies to humanity is diverted to the expression of Nature. The Latin\npoets use such metaphorical language often enough, as we may find\nin our Virgil, take the example: _Quum graviter tunsis gemit area\nfrugibus_ (Georg., III, 132).\n\nConversely and in the _second_ place that which pertains to mind is\nbrought in the same way more close to our powers of vision through the\nimage of natural objects. Such fanciful presentations, however, can\nvery readily degenerate into mere trifling and far-fetched conceits,\nwhen that which is essentially without life receives notwithstanding\nevery appearance of individuality, and really spiritual activities are\nassigned to it with perfect seriousness. The Italians more especially\nhave given themselves over to illusive trickery of this kind, and even\nShakespeare is not wholly free from them, as in that passage from\n\"Richard II\" (Act V, sc. I), where he makes the King say to the Queen\non parting:\n\n/$\n      For why, the senseless brands will sympathize\n      The heavy accent of thy moving tongue\n      And in compassion weep the fire out;\n      And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black\n      For the deposing of a rightful king.\n$/\n\n(_\u03b3_) Finally, if we look at the aim and interest of that which is\nmetaphorical, the first thing which strikes us is that a word in the\nstrict sense is an independently intelligible expression, the metaphor\notherwise. The question consequently presents itself, what is the\nreason of this twofold means of expression, or, to put it another way,\nwhy is it that we have the metaphorical which essentially implies\nthis division? The common explanation is that metaphors are used to\ngive vivacity to poetical composition, and this animating effect is\nthe ground in virtue of which Heyne, in particular, insists on their\nvalue. The vivacity consists in the support they offer to imaginative\nvision in the direction of clear definition, divesting the word, which\nis always something generalized, of its purely indefinite character,\nand bringing it home to sense by means of an image. No doubt a greater\ndegree of vivacity is to be found in metaphors than in the strict\nexpressions of ordinary speech; genuine vitality, however, is not to\nbe sought for in metaphors, whether in isolation or combination, whose\nfigurative plasticity, it is true, may frequently include a relation,\nwhich by good chance attaches at the same time to the expression an\nincreased perspicuity and a higher definition, but quite as often, if\nevery detail of the process of thought is thus figuratively emphasized\nin isolation, makes the whole unwieldy, overloading it thus with its\nemphasis on singular aspects.\n\nThe genius of metaphorical diction is consequently, as we shall have to\nelucidate more closely in our consideration of simile, to be regarded\nas responding to a need and potency of mind and the emotional life,\nwhich will not rest satisfied with that which is entirely simple,\nordinary, and homely, but make an effort beyond this and over into\nsomething more recondite under the attraction which distinction offers\nand the impulse to co-ordinate contrasted effects. This binding\ntogether has itself again various causes, which may be notified as\nfollows.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) _First_, we have it for the sake of _reinforcing_ an effect. The\nemotional life, under the pressure and movement of its passions, gives\nvisible utterance to these forces by means of the piling up of sensuous\nimage. More than this, it strives to express its own whirl and tumble,\nor persistence in the ideas which crowd upon it by means of a similar\nletting itself go into phenomena cognate with such a condition, and its\nown free movement among images of the greatest variety. In Calderon's\nsupplication to the Cross Julia utters the following words when she\nlooks upon the dead body of her only just deceased brother, and her\nlover, Eusebio, the man who has killed Lisardo, stands before her:\n\n/$\n     O that I might close for ever\n     Eyes before this blood here guiltless,\n     Blood which cries for vengeance with its\n     Flooding stream of purple flowers!\n     Would that I could deem thee pardoned\n     In the rush of tears that blind thee:\n     Wounds and eyes are mouths which swallow\n     Lies which seek admittance never, etc.\n$/\n\nWith a still more vehement burst of passion Eusebio starts back from\nthe sight of her, when Julia finally is for surrendering herself to\nhim, as he exclaims:\n\n/$\n     Flaming sparks thine eyeballs scatter;\n     Every sigh is breath that scorches;\n     Every word is a volcano,\n     Every hair a scribbled lightning,\n     Every word is Death, and every\n     Soft caress is Hell's own anguish;\n     Such the horror stirs within me\n     As I see--O awful symbol,\n     Crucifix thy bosom carries.\n$/\n\nThe human soul on the swell of its emotion keeps adding image on image\nto that immediately confronting it, and with all this impetuous seeking\nto and fro for new means of expression barely lays to rest its own\ntumult.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) A _second_ rationale of the metaphorical consists in this that\nthe human soul, after adding to its own depth by this the motion of\nits own life into the varied survey of objects cognate with it, is\nstirred at the same time to cast itself free of the externality of\nsuch objects, to the extent that it seeks to rediscover itself in what\nis external; it transmutes that external in its own free activity,\nand by clothing both itself and its passions in the forms of beauty,\nproclaims furthermore its power to present in visible semblance its own\nexaltation above the bare fact.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) A _third_ ground of figurative expression, and one of at\nleast equal force, may be found in the purely ribald exuberance of\nthe phantasy, which is unable to set before us an object in its own\noutlines for what they are worth, or a significance in its unadorned\nsimplicity, but on all occasions hankers after some concrete embodiment\ncognate with it, or is overmastered by the ingenuity of a personal\ncaprice, which, in order to escape the commonplace, abandons itself to\nthe charms of the piquant novelty, a caprice that is never satisfied\nuntil it has discovered for us points of affinity in material the most\nremote apparently from that before us, and has thereby related the same\nto the most distant objects.\n\nAnd we may here observe that it is not so much the _prosaic_ and\n_poetic_ style generally as the style of the _classic_ world in\ncontrast with that of later periods which presents such a marked\ndifference in the pre-eminent importance they attach to genuine or\nmetaphorical expression respectively. It is not merely the Greek\nphilosophers, such as Plato and Aristotle, or the great historians and\norators, such as Thucydides and Demosthenes, but also the great poets,\nHomer and Sophocles, who, albeit we find examples of the simile in all\nthem, remain on the whole, and without exception, constant in the use\nof their direct form of expression[95]. Their plastic severity and\nsterling substance will not permit them such a multifarious product,\nas is bound up with the use of metaphor, nor will it suffer them, even\nfor the sake of gathering the so-called flowers of expression, to waver\nfitfully in devious ways from their ideal mintage of the completely\nsimple and co-ordinate result as of one metal cast in one mould. The\nmetaphor, in fact, is always an interruption to the logical course of\nconception and invariably to that extent a distraction, because it\nstarts images and brings them together, which are not immediately\nconnected with the subject and its significance, and for this reason\ntend to a like extent to divert the attention from the same to matter\ncognate with themselves, but strange to both. The prose of ancient\nwriters in the extraordinary clarity and flexibility of its utterance\nand their poetry in the repose of its completely unfolded content[96],\nare equally removed from the frequent use of metaphor by modern writers.\n\nOn the other hand it is particularly in the East, and above all the\nlater literature of Mohammedan poetry, which makes use of the indirect\nor figurative modes of expression, and, indeed, finds them essential.\nThe same thing may be said, if less emphatically, of modern European\nliterature. The diction of Shakespeare, for instance, is full of\nmetaphor. The Spaniards, too, are very fond of this flowery region,\nand, indeed, have wandered off into it to the point of the most\ntasteless exaggeration and superfluity. Jean Paul falls under the\nsame charge. Goethe by virtue of the equal strength and clarity of\nhis vision to a less extent. Schiller, however, is even in his prose\nexceedingly rich both in image and metaphor; in his case this is rather\ndue to his effort to bring really profound ideas within the range of\nthe imaginative vision without being forced to expound all they imply\nfor the mind in the technical language of philosophy. We behold and\nfind there the essential unity of the speculative reason reflected on\nthe mirror of Life as it stands before us.\n\n(_b_) _The Image_\n\nWe may place the _image_ midway between the metaphor and the simile.\nIt has, in fact, so close an affinity with the metaphor that we may\nregard it as merely a metaphor _fully amplified_[97], an aspect which\nat the same time marks its very close resemblance to the simile; there\nis, however, this distinction, that in the case of the image as such\nthe significance is not set forth in its independent opposition to\nthe concrete external object expressly compared with it. That which\nwe term the image arises when two phenomena or conditions, which by\nthemselves stand substantially apart, are placed in concurrence so that\none condition supplies the significance which is made intelligible\nby means of the other. The first, that is to say, the fundamental\n_modus_ of the definition constitutes here the relation of _independent\nconsistency_[98], and is the line of _division_ of the spheres in\ntheir separation, from which both the significance and its image are\ndeduced; and that which is common to them, the qualities and relations\nand so forth, are not, as in the symbol, the indefinite universal and\nsubstantive itself, but the self-defined concrete existence on the one\nside no less than on the other[99].\n\n(_a_) Under a relation such as this the image may possess as its\nsignificance a whole series of conditions, activities, contrasts, and\nmodes of existence, and manifest the same through a series of a similar\nnature from an independent if cognate source, without emphasizing in\nso many words the significance as such within the limits of the image.\nThe poem of Goethe, entitled \"The Song of Mahomet,\" is of this kind.\nIt is merely the title here which shows us that in the image of a\nrocky water-spring which, in the freshness of youth, leaps over the\ncliff's edge into the abyss, and which then spreads away with the rush\nof tributary springs down the plain, ever and anon taking up fraternal\nrivers, which gives further a name to localities, and sees whole\ntowns subject to its glory, until it finally bears in the tumultuous\nfolds of its rapturous heart all these splendours, the brothers, its\npossessions, its children, to the great source that awaits them--it\nis, we repeat, merely the title which explains to us that in this\ncomprehensive and radiant image of a mighty river we have the first\nbold appearance of Mahomet, then the rapid spread of his teaching,\nand, finally, the deliberately planned attempt to bring all nations\nto the _one_ faith set forth with such singular directness. We may\nview in a similar way many of the Xenien of Goethe and Schiller, those\nsentences edged in part with scorn, but as often the mere vehicle of\ngood spirits, which were flung at the public and its weak authors in\nparticular. Take the pair of distiches which follow, as an example:\n\n/$\n     Stille kneteten wir Salpeter, Kohlen und Sewefel,\n     Bohrten R\u00f6hren, gefall' nun auch das Feuer work euch!\n\n     Einige steigen als leuchtende kugeln und andere z\u00fcnden,\n     Manche auch werfen wir nur spielend das Aug' zu erfreun[100].\n$/\n\nAy, we have in truth seen not a few rockets of this order changed\nto dull ash, to the exceeding entertainment of the better half of\npublic opinion, only too delighted when the rabble of commonplace and\nmiserable quality, which had for a long time spreadeagled it far and\nwide and laid down the law, received a genuine smack in the mouth and a\nbucket of cold water over its precious body into the bargain.\n\n(_\u03b2_) In these last examples there is, however, already a _second_\naspect brought to view, which in our consideration of the image\nshould be emphasized. In other words the content is in these cases\nan _individual_ which acts, brings before us objects, experiences\nspecific states, etc., and then is reflected in the _image_ not as\nsuch a subject, but merely with a reference to his particular actions,\nworkings, and experiences. The individual himself as subject is, on\nthe contrary, introduced without an image, and it is only his actions\nand relations strictly viewed which contain the form of indirect\nexpression. Here, too, as in the case of the image generally, it is\nnot the _entire_ significance which is separated from its mode of\nembodiment, but the subject is alone set forth independently, while\nthe definite content of that subject receives at the same time the\nform of an image; and the result is that the subject is imagined in\nsuch a way as though it was itself the means which supplied the imaged\nform of their existence to the objects and actions in question. The\nmetaphorical relation is, in fact, ascribed to the individual subject\nexpressly named. This confusion, or at least interfusion of the direct\nand indirect modes of expression has frequently been the subject of\nadverse criticism, but we do not find very solid ground to support\nit[101].\n\n(_\u03b3_) Orientals are to an extraordinary degree distinguished by the\nbold use they make of this type of imagery. They will unite together\nand intertwine in one image entirely _independent_ forms of existence.\nTake for example this sentence of Hafiz: \"The life-course of the\nworld is a bloodstained dagger, and the drops which fall therefrom\nare crowns.\" Or that other: \"The sword of the sun drips in the red of\nmorning with the blood of Night, over which it has won the victory.\"\nOr again this: \"No one has yet drawn aside the veil from the cheeks of\nthought as Hafis since the day when the tips of the locks of the Word's\nbride were curled.\" The meaning of this image may be apparently thus\nexpanded. Thought is the bride of the word; so Klopstock calls the word\nthe twin-brother of Thought, and since this bride has been adorned by\nman with delicately turned words, no one is likely to be more competent\nthan Hafis to suffer the thought thus adorned to appear in the clarity\nof its unveiled beauty.\n\n(_c_) _The Simile_\n\nFrom this last type of imagery we may proceed without a break to\nthe consideration of _simile._ For in the image we already find the\ninitial appearance of the independent and imageless expression of\nthis significance, the subject of the image being here designated.\nThe two types are, however, distinguished by this that in the simile\neverything which exclusively manifests the image in a figurative form\nis furthermore able to receive an independently subsistent mode of\nexpression as significance, which thereby appears alongside of its\nimage and is placed in comparison with the same. The metaphor and image\ndeclare the significances without making that declaration explicit,\nso that it is only the context, in which either metaphor or image\noccur, which shows without disguise what their meaning veritably is\nintended to be. In the simile, on the contrary, both aspects, image and\nsignificance, albeit no doubt we find at one time it is the image, and\nat another the significance which is most clearly and fully emphasized,\nare kept completely apart and set forth each in its isolation, and only\nthen, and in such severation are related to one another in virtue of\nthe similarity of their content.\n\nViewed in this relation it is possible to characterize the simile as\nto some extent merely a vain _repetition_, in so far, that is, as one\nand the same content is reproduced in a twofold, or it may be threefold\nor fourfold form. In part, too, we may even see in it a frequently\nwearisome _superfluity_, for the reason that the significance is\nalready there as an independent factor, and requires no further mode\nof figuration to render it intelligible. The question consequently\npresses upon us here with even more insistence than in the case of the\nimage and metaphor, what essential interest and object there may be in\nthe employment of isolated examples or a whole number of similes. For\ntheir use is not to be justified on the commonly received ground of\nmere vivacity, and the contention that they increase the lucidity of\nexpression will assist us just as little. On the contrary similes make\na poem only too frequently insipid and overweighted, and an image or\nmetaphor by itself can possess a clarity fully as pronounced without\nthere being any previous necessity to attach the significance to either\nas something still outside.\n\nWe must consequently conceive the object of the simile to consist in\nthis, that the subjective[102] imagination of the poet, however much\nit has brought home to the artist's consciousness the content, which\nit seeks to express, with distinctive emphasis according to its more\nabstract generality and expresses it in this universal aspect, yet it\nfinds itself equally under a constraint to seek out a concrete form\nfor it, and to envisualize for itself in the phenomena of sense that\nwhich already is clearly before the mind as its significance. Looked\nat in this way we shall find that the simile is, no less than the\nimage and the metaphor, indicative of the bravery which invariably\ndistinguishes imaginative power when it faces its object, it matters\nnot what, it may be a single object of sense-perception, a definite\ncondition, or a general significance--the enterprise, that is, to bind\ntogether with its own activity that which lies remote from it in its\nexternal environment, and by so doing to carry away by force objects of\nthe greatest variety, and unite them to the interest which its unified\ncontent possesses, and generally to annex to the matter in hand a whole\nworld of diversified phenomena. And this power of the imagination\ncontinually to find out the new plastic shape, and cement together\nheterogeneous material by means of the relations and associations of\nsense is, in general terms, also the rational basis of the simile.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In the _first_ place, then, this impulse to compare can find\nsatisfaction simply by virtue of the demand which it satisfies, without\nbringing to light, that is to say, anything else in the brilliancy of\nits images than the bravery of the imagination itself. And this is but\nthe same thing as that revelry[103] of imaginative power, which, more\nparticularly in the East, with all the easy-going tranquillity of the\nSouth regales itself in the wealth and splendour of its images nor\nseeks any other object, while it seduces the hearer to give himself up\nto the same spirit. At the same time we are frequently astounded by\nthe amazing force, with which the poet surrenders himself to ideas of\nthe most startling contrasts, and displays a cunning of combination\nwhich far exceeds all the effort of mere wittiness as an indication of\ngenius. Calderon, too, supplies us with many comparisons of this type,\nmore particularly in his pictures of important and splendid pageants\nand festive processions, in his descriptions of chargers and cavaliers,\nor in his reference to ships, which on one occasion he calls \"birds\nwithout pinions, and fish without fins.\"\n\n(_\u03b2_) A _second_ and more intimate aspect of these comparisons is that\nin virtue of which we find them to be a _tarrying by_ one and the same\nobject, which becomes thereby the substantial centre of a series of\nother ideas remote from it, by pointing to or illuminating which the\ninterest of the content compared receives a tangible increase.\n\nThis protraction of the interest round one centre may be explained in\nseveral ways.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) As the _first_ we may draw attention to the _absorption_ of\nthe soul in the content, which is the source of its _animation_, and\nwhich attaches itself so intimately to it, that it is unable to detach\nitself from the permanent interest thus excited. We may at the same\ntime observe that a fundamental difference once more asserts itself in\nthis respect between the poetry of the East and the West resembling\nthat we have already adverted to our discussion of Pantheism. In\nother words the Oriental is in his absorption less dominated by the\npersonal relation, and consequently without the languish and yearning\nof self-interest: his longing, such as it is, remains a more impersonal\ndelight in the object under comparison, and consequently more of a\ncontemplation. He looks about him with a free mind, sees in everything\nwhich surrounds him, everything which stirs either his mental faculties\nor his heart, an existing image of that which actively concerns his\nsense-life and his spiritual forces, and with which he abounds. This\ntype of the imagination which is free from all mere self-obsession,\ndelivered, I mean, from all morbid introspection discovers its\nsatisfaction in the figurative conception of the object itself, and\nmost of all when that object, by virtue of the comparison instituted,\nis extolled, exalted, and declared in line with that which is most\nglorious and beautiful. The West is in its general contrast more remote\nfrom this impersonal spirit, and in its grief and pain more inclined to\nlanguish and yearn itself away.\n\nThis dallying, as we may call it, is then pre-eminently an interest\nof the _emotional_ life, more particularly of love, which delights\nto take refuge in the objects of its suffering and its raptures; and\nas often as it finds itself unable to break loose from such feelings\nfinds naught that is wearisome in the task of repainting the object\never anew. The lover is above all things the prodigal in wishes, hopes,\nand ever changing conceits. Among such conceits we have to reckon\nthe simile, to which love and the emotions generally have recourse,\nall the more readily for the reason that they take up and absorb\nthe entire soul, and are themselves the independently motive source\nof comparison. Whatever is their immediate content, is, that is to\nsay, a beautiful object arrested in its singularity, whether it be\nthe mouth, the eye, or the hair of the beloved. In such a state the\nhuman soul is active, restless, and the states of joy and pain are\nneither without life nor in repose, but full of activity and motion,\nare up and down, which at least is continuous in this that it is for\never bringing all material of whatever kind into relation with the\none emotional centre of the world of the heart. In other words the\ninterest of comparison has its root in the feeling itself, which is\ninsistently conscious of the fact, for example, that there are other\nobjects in Nature which are beautiful, or have given rise to pain and\nso on. Consequently love draws these objects with the aid of the simile\ninto the sphere of its own content, and makes the same wider and more\nuniversal thereby. If the object of the simile is, however, entirely\n_isolated_ in its _material_ form, and brought into juxtaposition with\nobjects of a similar nature, we shall find, and particularly so where\nsimiles of this sort are piled one on the top of another, that such\na composition is due to emotion of a still rather superficial order,\nand to reflection equally wanting in depth; the result will be that\nthe variety which merely plays round an external material will readily\nappear to us insipid and of no vital interest, because we have here\nno spiritual relation interpenetrating it. We may illustrate such an\neffect from the fourth chapter of the Song of Solomon where we find\nthe words: \"Behold thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou\nhast doves' eyes within thy locks; thy hair is as a flock of goats,\nthat appear from mount Gilead. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep\nthat are even shorn, which came up from the washing, whereof everyone\nbear twins, and none is barren among them. Thy lips are like a thread\nof scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of\npomegranate within thy locks. Thy neck is like a tower of David builded\nfor an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of\nmighty men. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins,\nwhich feed among the lilies[104]. Until the day break and the shadows\nflee away.\" This _na\u00efvet\u00e9_ is to be met with in many of the comparisons\nof Ossian. Take for example the words: \"Thou art as snow on the\nheather; thine hair is as mist on the kromla, when he curls himself up\non the rock, and glistens toward the gleam in the West; thine arms are\nas two arrows in the halls of the mighty Fingal.\"\n\nOf the same kind, only here in wholly a rhetorical way, are the\nfollowing words Ovid places in the mouth of Polyphemus (Met. XIII,\nvv. 789-807): \"Thou art more white, O Galatea, than the leaf of the\nsnow-white meadowland; more blooming than the fields, more slender than\nthe elm; more brilliant than glass, more arch than the tender little\nroebuck; smoother than the shell ever-polished by the sea; more dear\nthan Winter's sun, or the shade in Summer; nobler than the fruit-tree,\nmore comely than the lofty plane.\" And so on through all the nineteen\nhexameters, a description not wanting in rhetorical beauty, but as\nthe presentation of an emotion, which rouses little interest, itself\nequally lacking in interest.\n\nWe may find many examples of this style of comparison in Calderon,\nalthough a halt, by the way, of this kind is more suitable to lyrical\nemotion simply, and fetters the march of drama far too insistently,\nif it is not actually motived by the subject-matter. Don Juan, for\ninstance, during the progress of the action, describes at length in\nthis way the beauty of a veiled lady whom he had followed. This is what\nhe says to a third person:\n\n/$\n     Natheless in despite and often\n     Through the gross and barriered darkness\n     Of that intranslucent veil,\n     Flashed a hand of sheen most splendid,\n     Mistress pure of rose and lily,\n     Princess, to whose matchless glory\n     E'en the snow's gleam paid obeisance,\n     Slave all murk of Aethiop moulding.\n$/\n\nThe matter is wholly different, however, when any one capable of\n_profound_ emotion, expresses his life through images and similes,\nin which the most secret folds of spiritual feeling are unveiled,\nthe soul here either identifying itself with some scene of external\nNature, or making such a scene the counterfeit of a spiritual content.\nWe may cite Ossian once again in illustration of this better use of\nimage and comparison, although the range of objects which serve him\nin such similitude is jejune, mainly restricted to clouds, mists,\nstorms, trees, streams, thistles, grasses, and other facts equally\nobvious. Here is one of them: \"The Present[105] brings joy to us, O\nFingal; it is as the sun on Kromla, when the hunter has mourned its\nabsence a whole year long and now it breaks forth from the clouds.\" In\nanother passage of the same writer we find these words: \"Did not Ossian\nhearken but now to a voice? Is it then the voice of the days that are\nno longer? Ofttimes, oft as the evening suns, comes the memory of times\nthat are gone into my soul.\" And for another instance take this bit of\nnarration: \"Pleasant are the words of song, saith Kuchullin, and dear\nto the heart are the tales of times far away. They are as the quiet\ndew of the morning on the hill of the roe-deer, when the sun trembles\nfaintly on his flank, and the pool lies motionless and blue in the\ndale.\" In the case of Ossian this halting by the same emotions, and\ntheir similitudes expresses the attitude of an old age which out of\nweariness and exhaustion turns to sorrowful and painful memories. And\ngenerally a recourse to comparisons is evidence of an inclination to\nmelancholy and effeminate emotion. The desire and interest of such a\nsoul lies far away and foregone; and for this reason we find as a rule\nthat, instead of bracing itself up manfully, it yields to its longing\nto lose itself in something else. Many of the figurative expressions\nof Ossian consequently are quite as much a response to this wholly\npersonal mood as they are a reflection of ideas mostly of a mournful\ncolour, and of the restricted circle beyond which he is unable to pass.\n\nBut, conversely, it is quite possible that _passion_, in so far as\nit is able to concentrate its forces on one content, despite its own\nunrest, with the object of finding a counterfeit of the soul in the\nnatural world around it, may fluctuate to and fro in a variety of\nimages and similitudes, which are all purely conceits of the fancy\nover one and the same object. A fine example of this we have in that\nmonologue of Juliet from \"Romeo and Juliet,\" in which she apostrophizes\nthe night as follows:\n\n/$\n     Come, night; come Romeo; come, thou day in night;\n     For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night\n     Whiter than new snow on a raven's back:\n     Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,\n     Give me my Romeo; and when he shall die,\n     Take him and cut him out in little stars,\n     And he will make the face of heaven so fine\n     That all the world will be in love with night\n     And pay no worship to the garish sun.\n$/\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The similes of epic poetry as they come before us over and\nover again in Homer stand out in a marked contrast to the above type\nof almost purely lyrical simile in which sentiment is absorbed in the\nheart of its content. In the former case the aim of the poet, when\nhe may by any chance wish to dally with the comparative mode around\nsome specific object, is, on the one hand, interested in raising us\nover the active curiosity, expectancy, hope, and fear, by which we are\nmoved relatively to the several situations and exploits of his heroes\nduring the actual progress of events over, that is to say, the general\nconcurrencies of cause, action, and consequence, and in fixing our\nattention upon the images which he places before us in their plastic\nrepose, purely for our contemplation, serene as the works of sculpture.\nThis repose, this absolution from the merely practical interest that\nwe may enter into that which he places visibly before our eyes comes\nupon us with all the more force in so far as everything with which\nhe compares the object is taken from a field entirely remote from\nit. Moreover, this halting round the simile possesses the further\nsignificance that by virtue of this kind of twofold painting of the\nsame object its importance is emphasized, and is thus not permitted\nto be whirled away in the mere shifting stream of the song and the\nevents it celebrates. Take, for example, what Homer says of Achilles,\nwhen that hero, fired with anger, confronts Aeneas (\"Iliad,\" XX, vv.\n164-175):\n\n/$\n     As when the harmful king of beasts (sore threatened to be slain\n     By all the country up in arms) at first makes coy disdain\n     Prepare resistance, but at last when anyone hath led\n     Bold charge upon him with his dart, he then turns yawning head,\n     Fell anger lathers in his jaws, his great heart swells, his stern\n     Lasheth his strength up, sides and thighs waddle with stripes to learn\n     Their own power, his eyes glow, he roars, he leaps to kill,\n     Secure of killing: so his power then rous'd up to his will\n     Matchless Achilles, coming on to meet Anchises' son[106].\n$/\n\nMuch in the same spirit he speaks of Pallas, when she averted the arrow\nwhich Pandaros had let fly against Menelaus (\"Iliad,\" IV, vv. 130-131):\n\n\"She did not forget him, and warded off the arrow e'en as a mother\nflicks away some fly from her son, as he lies in sweet slumber.\"\n\nAnd again further on when the arrow, notwithstanding, wounds Menelaus\n(vv. 141-146):\n\n/$\n     Yet forth the blood flow'd, which did much his royal person grace,\n     And show'd upon his ivory skin, as doth a purple dye\n     Laid, by a dame of Ca\u00efra, or lovely Maeony,\n     On ivory, wrought in ornaments to deck the cheeks of horse;\n     Which in her marriage room must lie; whose beauties have such force,\n     That they are wish'd of many knights, but are such precious things,\n     That they are kept for horse that draw the chariots of kings;\n     Which horse, so deck'd, the charioteer esteems a grace to him;\n     Like these, in grace, the blood upon thy solid thighs did swim,\n     O  Menelaus, etc[107].\n$/\n\n(_\u03b3_) A _third_ motive cause of similes, quite distinct from that\nof purely imaginative riot as also the self-absorbed sentiment or,\nunder its other aspect, the dallying round important objects with\nthe figurative power of the fancy, we have now to emphasize with\nparticular reference to dramatic poetry. The content of the drama is\nmade up of the conflict of passions, activities, pathos, actions, and\nthe accomplishment of the thing willed by the soul, a content which\ndoes not, as in the case of the epic, take the form of a narrative of\npast events, but the dramatic poet places the individuals themselves\nbefore our eyes and makes them unfold their emotions personally in\nan objective form, and their actions as taking place in the present:\nhis mediate position between ourselves and the objects represented\ntherefore ceases. Looked at from this point of view it would appear as\nthough in order to make this presence in Nature clear to us a primary\nrequirement of drama would be that the expression of passions and\nthe vehemence of their grief, consternation, and delight should be\npainted as naturally as it was possible to paint it, and consequently\nthe simile would be here out of place. To let individuals, on the\nvery plane of their action, in the full storm of emotion, and in the\ncontinuous strain of the busy world, speak much in the language of\nmetaphor or image is obviously, from the commonsense point of view,\nan unnatural proceeding and injurious to the directness aimed at.\nWe are by the simile diverted from the immediate situation, and the\ncharacters, whose actions and emotions are involved in it, to something\nexternal and strange to it, which in short does not strictly belong to\nit, as part of its own present; consequently the general course of the\ndialogue must unavoidably appear to lag under the interruption thus\nimposed. And for this reason it came about also in Germany when at\nlast our young bloods were all for freeing themselves from the fetters\nof French rhetorical taste, that the Spaniards, Italians, and French\nwere regarded as artists who did nothing more than place their own\npersonal flights of fancy or witticism, their own conventional attitude\nto society and elegance of speech in the mouth of their dramatic\ncharacters in situations, too, when the very tempest of emotion cried\nout for Nature's most direct expression to the exclusion of all other.\nWe find as a result of such an insistence on the principle of realism\nthat in many dramas, which hail from this time, the outcry of emotion,\nwith all the exclamatory signs and hyphens which may render its nudity\nmore visible, takes the place of a noble and dignified diction, rich\nin image and simile. In much the same sense even English critics\nhave often charged Shakespeare with a superabundant and too varied\nrecourse to the simile, some of which he not unfrequently will attach\nto characters in the full strain of personal bereavement, where the\nstress of emotion least of all admits of the tranquillity necessary to\nreflection, the attitude of mind which is indispensable to this type of\ncomparison. We may no doubt admit that now and again we meet with in\nShakespeare an exaggerated tendency to pile up image upon image, and\nthat his diction is thereby overweighted. At the same time we shall\nsee, if we examine the matter in all its bearings, that even in drama\nthe simile is entitled to a position essential to this form of poetry\nand vital to its action.\n\nIn other words if the emotion makes a pause in similes for the reason\nthat it is absorbed in its object and is unable to free itself\ntherefrom, there is also on the plane of _active life_ a distinct\npurpose subserved by it, namely, to indicate that the individual is\nnot thus so exclusively preoccupied with the particular situation or\nstate of the emotions then uppermost, but possesses a fine and noble\nnature superior to such conditions and able to assert its independence.\nIn passion soul-life is restricted and fettered to its own seclusion,\nnarrowed down to the point of concentrated heat, either thereby a\nmute, an ejaculation of monosyllables, or the rage that vents itself\nat random. Greatness of soul and intellectual power alike refuse to\nsubmit to such limitations: they are wings which carry the soul in\na fine tranquillity over and above the storm of pathos that moves\nit. It is this deliverance of the soul, which the simile primarily\nexpresses by the very mode under which it is asserted. In other words\nit is only a really profound composure and strength which is able to\nmake itself the object of its pain and suffering, to compare itself\nwith something else, and by doing so to view itself impartially[108]\nin a strange material; or it may be in a mood of the most terrible\nscorn to set forth in the external thing the confronting image of its\nown annihilation, and still persist in the repose of its own obdurate\nforces. In epical poetry, as we before observed, it was the poet's\nundoubted function to transmit to his audience, by means of those halts\nby the way which his picturesque similitudes offered, that sense of\ntranquillity which is essential to fine art. In dramatic art, on the\ncontrary, the _dramatis personae_ appear as themselves the _poets_\nand _artists._ Here it is the characters who objectify their own\nsoul-life in that which they are powerful enough to imagine and inform,\nthereby further manifesting to us the nobility of their receptive\nfaculties and the inherent force of their emotional resources[109].\nFor this absorption into something else that is external is now[110]\nthe deliverance of the world within from a purely practical interest,\nor at least is that which lifts the immediacy of emotion to the level\nof forms the soul may contemplate in freedom; and for this reason\nevery comparison instituted simply for the comparison's sake in the\nway we have already observed it under the first aspect of the simile\ndiscussed, is vindicated now in a much profounder sense than was then\npossible; it can now only appear as a victory over the exclusive\nobsession of passion and the release from its masterdom. In following\nup the course of this liberating process we will now emphasize several\nimportant distinctions to illustrate which we shall borrow exclusively\nfrom Shakespeare.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Now in the first place we would observe that when we have a soul\nset before us about to meet with a grave misfortune, by which it will\nbe shaken to its depths, and the pain of this inevitable cataclysm\nis at length actually entered upon, it would be nothing less than an\nindication of a nature essentially commonplace if it were there and\nthen to break out into the cry of horror, pain, and desperation, and so\nmake a clean breast of it. A strong and noble spirit on the contrary\nholds its lamentation as such in reserve, keeps a hand of iron upon its\npain, and by this means preserves a free power to embody in far-distant\nmaterial imaginatively presented the profound sense of its anguish,\nand to express its own tragic state under the image of that which is\nremote. Thus man rises superior to his suffering; he is not utterly\nwith all that is in him bondman to it; rather he is as wholly distinct\nfrom it as he is one with it; and consequently he can still pause\nbefore that which is outside and beyond him, which he relates to his\nemotion as an independent force cognate with his own. This will explain\nto us those words of the old Northumberland in Shakespeare's \"Henry\nIV,\" when he inquires of the messenger who comes to inform him of the\ndeath of Percy, what news he brings him of his son and his brother,\nand, on receiving no reply, gives utterance to the composure of the\nmost poignant grief as follows:\n\n/$\n     Thou tremblest; and the whiteness of thy cheek\n     Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.\n     Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,\n     So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,\n     Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,\n     And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;\n     But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,\n     And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it[111].\n$/\n\nThis attitude of the soul, which spins about itself as it were\nthe garments of its pain, and yet retains the power throughout to\nimage itself under new modes of comparison, receives a particularly\nstriking illustration in the character of Richard II, where we find\nhim repentant over the youthful frivolity of his days of prosperity.\nIn fact there is no trait in this royal grief that is more touching\nor suggestive of a child's simplicity than the fact that he always\nexpresses himself under the objective form of most pertinent images,\nand in the play of this type of self-expression preserves his suffering\nall the more profoundly. When, for example, Henry demands of him the\ncrown, he replies:\n\n/$\n     Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown;\n     Here cousin;\n     On this side my hand, and on that side yours.\n     Now is this golden crown like a deep well\n     That owes two buckets, filling one another,\n     The emptier ever dancing in the air,\n     The other down, unseen and full of water.\n     That bucket down and full of tears am I,\n     Drinking my griefs while you mount up on high[112].\n$/\n\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The other aspect to which we would now draw attention is this,\nnamely, that a character which is already made one with its interests,\nits sorrow, and its destiny, endeavours by means of the simile to\nrelease itself from this immediate union, and makes this deliverance\nobvious to us by the very fact that it shows itself still able to\ndeduce such similitudes. In \"Henry VIII,\"[113] for instance, the Queen\nKatherine, on being forsaken by her royal consort, expresses the depth\nof her desolation in the words:\n\n/$\n     I am the most unhappy woman living!\n     Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes?\n     Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,\n     No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me;\n     Almost no grave allow'd me: like the lily,\n     That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd,\n     I'll hang my head and perish.\n$/\n\nIn a still more admirable manner in \"Julius Caesar\"[114] Brutus\nexclaims to Cassius, to whose want of spirit he has vainly striven to\ngive the spur:\n\n/$\n     O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb\n     That carries anger as the flint bears fire;\n     Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,\n     And straight is cool again.\n$/\n\nThat Brutus in such a situation can find room for a simile is already\nan excellent proof that he himself has thrust his scorn into the\nbackground, and has begun to assert himself as master of it.\n\nFor the most part Shakespeare, by endowing his criminal characters\nwith greatness of soul in crime no less than in misfortune, exalts\nthem before he leaves them above their own evil passions: he will not\nlet them rest in the purely abstract assertion of crimes they are for\never going to do, but never really commit, as is the French style, but\nactually infuses them with the imaginative power, by means of which\nthey stand out before us as distinctly as any other personification\nthat is new to us. Macbeth, for instance, when his last hour has\nstruck[115], exclaims in the well-known words:\n\n/$\n                   Out, out, brief candle!\n     Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player\n     That struts and frets his hour upon the stage\n     And then is heard no more: it is a tale\n     Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury\n     Signifying nothing.\n$/\n\nThe same thing may be said of those last words of Cardinal Wolsey in\n\"Henry VIII,\"[116] uttered at the close of his career when struck down\nfrom the summit of his greatness:\n\n/$\n     Farewell! a long farewell to all my greatness!\n     This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth\n     The tender leaves of hopes: to-morrow blossoms,\n     And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;\n     The third day comes a frost, a killing frost;\n     And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely\n     His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,\n     And then he falls, as I do.\n$/\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In this impersonal relation of objective fact and its expression\nof the comparative mode, the repose and substantial self-command of\ncharacter returns to itself; it is the means whereby the pain of a\ngreat downfall is softened. So Cleopatra exclaims[117] to Charmian,\nafter she has already put the mortal aspic to her breast:\n\n/$\n                             Peace, peace!\n     Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,\n     That sucks the nurse asleep?\n     As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle--\n$/\n\nThe bite of the serpent relaxes her members so gently that Death is\nhimself deceived and holds himself to be Sleep. And this image may well\npass as itself a counterfeit of the mild and allaying influence of such\nsimilitudes.\n\n\nC. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE SYMBOLIC TYPE OF ART\n\n_Didactic_, _descriptive poetry and the ancient epigram._\n\nThe conception we have in general terms formed of the symbolic type\nof art is such that within it significance and expression are unable\nto unite sufficiently to appear in complete and reciprocal fusion.\nIn unconscious symbolism the _incompatibility_ of these two aspects\nremained a fact throughout, if not actually _declared_ as such; in the\nSublime on the contrary this inadequacy was _explicitly_ asserted:\nthe absolute significance, God, no less than His external reality,\nthe world, are expressly represented in this excluding relation to\none another. On the other hand, however, in all these types that\nfurther aspect of symbolism, namely, the _affinity_ which obtains\nbetween the significance and the external form, in which it is visibly\nmanifested, still retained its importance. In the original type of\nsymbolism this was exclusively the case, a type which did not as yet\nset forth the significance in contrast to its concrete existence.\nBut in the Sublime, too, it remained an _essential_ relation, a type\nwhich, in order to express the Supreme Being, if here under a wholly\ninadequate mode, required as its means the phenomena of Nature, and the\nevents and exploits of God's chosen people. And finally it reappears\nin the comparative type of art a personal relation and one that is\nconsequently amenable to _caprice._ This element of caprice, however,\nalbeit it is an entirely present fact and particularly so in the case\nof the metaphor, image, and simile, is notwithstanding still hidden\naway behind the _affinity_ between the significance and the image\nutilized to express it, in so far as it selects the comparison simply\nout of a regard for their mutual resemblance, a fundamental aspect of\nwhich is not so much the _external_ form as just this _relation_ set up\nbetween them by the activity of the soul and consisting in subjective\nemotions, points of view and ideas and their cognate modes of\nconfiguration[118]. When, however, it is not the notion of the material\nitself, but simply a capricious use of the judgment, which brings\ntogether the content and its artistic form, both can only be conceived\nas posited in an entirely external relation to one another; their\nassociation is now a juxtaposition without essential relation, simply\na dressing up, that is to say, of the one side by the other. For this\nreason we have here to treat these last-mentioned and subordinate types\nof art by way of supplement. They arise from the absolute collapse of\nthe essential phases in all true art-production; they bring before us,\nin short, by their independence of the principle of relativity the\nsuicide of the symbolic type.\n\nIf we view this stage generally as a whole we find on the one hand\nalready as wholly independent the elaborate but formless significance,\nfor the artistic shaping of which all that we can now supply is an\nexternal ornament selected at caprice to set it off. On the other side\nwe have the external mode pure and simple. That is to say, instead of\nbeing mediated in its identity with that on which it is imposed by the\nfact that this is its own essentially cognate significance it can now\nonly be accepted and described in the aspect of its self-subsistence\nover against this _centrum_ of significance, and consequently only\nas mere externality. From the above contrasted aspects we may\ndifferentiate in abstract terms _didactic_ from _descriptive_ poetry,\na distinction which so far at least as the didactic is concerned is\nonly to be made good under the poetic type for the reason that this\nalone is able to bring before us the significance in its abstract\nuniversality.\n\nInasmuch, however, as the notion of art does not consist in the\ndissociation, but the identification of significance and form we find\neven at this stage not only a complete separation, but also in line\nwith that, a relation asserted between the sides thus opposed. This\nrelation, however, now that the partition line of symbolism has already\nbeen _crossed_, is no longer of a symbolic nature, and is therefore\nan attempt to abolish the fundamental characteristics of that type,\nnamely, the incompatibility, and at the same time the self-subsistence\nof form and content, a position that all the previous types were unable\nto transcend. Owing, however, to the separation of the two sides,\nwhich thus make for unity, being already presupposed by this type\nthis attempt can only be looked upon as a mere aspiration[119], to\ncompletely satisfy which in all that it involves is reserved for a more\nperfect type of art, namely, the classical.\n\nWe will now briefly glance at these supplementary forms, in order to\nmake our passage from them to the real type above mentioned more fully\nintelligible.\n\n\n1. THE DIDACTIC POEM\n\nWhen a significance, which as such co-ordinates a homogeneous\n_complexus_ of relations, is apprehended exclusively as significance,\nyet does not receive the form strictly adequate to this content, but\nis merely invested with the external ornamentation of art, then we\nhave before us the didactic poem. The didactic poem does not figure\namong the genuine types of art. For in it we find on the one hand a\ncontent already completely elaborated under a mode that is thereby\nnecessarily prosaic, while on the other we have the artistic form,\nwhich is merely tacked to it in an external way, for this very reason\nthat it had already been accepted by the mind in a form stamped with\n_prose_ throughout, and is merely exhibited to our common sense or\nreflective faculties as instruction under this prosaic aspect, that is\nto say, with an exclusive reference to the significance embodied in\nits abstract and general terms. Consequently art, in this its external\nrelation to a content so essentially foreign to its real informing\nprocess, can only recognize in the didactic poem its external aspects,\nsuch as metre, exalted language, episodic matter, images, similes,\nebullitions of sentiment, points of acceleration and transition in\nthe march of ideas, aspects in short which do not give us the heart\nof the content as such, but rather surround it as an incidental\naccretion, with the object of alleviating and making more enjoyable the\nserious and dry tone of the didactic material by means of their more\ninspiriting atmosphere. That which is intrinsically, in the fundamental\nconception of it, relegated to prose, cannot receive the poet's\nmintage, though it may be the peg on which he may hang his mantle[120].\nJust as we find, for example, that the art of gardening is in great\nmeasure a purely external rearrangement of what is already presented us\nby Nature, but not necessarily of that which is itself a truly lovely\nlocality; or as the art of building ameliorates by its ornament and\nexternal decoration a locality which has been expressly devoted to\nprosaic purposes and affairs.\n\nIn this way Greek Philosophy made a start under the mode of the\ndidactic poem. We may even adduce Hesiod as an example, albeit a\nprosaic treatment of this kind in its strict sense is only fully\nassured when the understanding is undisputed master of the subject\nwith its train of reflections, consequences, and classifications, and\ninstructs us from this standpoint alone in as pleasing and elegant a\nway as it can. Lucretius, too, in his relations to the philosophy of\nEpicurus, and Vergil, with the information he supplies on agriculture,\nare in part examples of the same type. Despite all their artistic\nadroitness they are unable to give their versification the genuine\nspontaneity of the artistic form. In Germany the didactic poem is\nnew out of fashion; in France Delille, in addition to his previous\nefforts entitled \"Les jardins, ou l'art d'embellir les paysages,\" and\nhis \"Homme des champs,\" has presented his compatriots with a further\nexample of the didactic poem, in which he has treated physical science\nas compendiously through its forms of magnetism, electricity and the\nrest.\n\n\n2. DESCRIPTIVE POETRY\n\nThe _second_ type which we have to examine stands out in direct\ncontrast to the previous one. The point of departure here is not from a\nsignificance already present before the mind in an independent form of\nits own, but from external objects simply such as natural localities,\nbuildings, seasons of the year or periods of time, and the modes under\nwhich they are presented to sense. But as we found in the didactic\npoem the content persisted in formless _generality_ so far as its\nessential character was concerned, so here, if in a converse manner,\nthe _external material_ is _independently_ set forth in the singularity\nwhich pertains to it simply as phenomenon without being drawn within\nthe circle of the significances apparent to mind; and it is this\nparticularity which is depicted and described in its external aspect\nprecisely as it appears to the matter-of-fact consciousness. Such a\nsensuous content has no relation to true art whatever, except under the\n_one_ feature, namely, that of its external existence; and this can\nonly claim art's recognition in so far as it represents the natural\nbasis of _spiritual_ life and individuality, its actions and events,\nthe facts, that is to say, which constitute an environing world; as\nmerely external form separated by itself from all that pertains to such\nlife it has no such claim.\n\n\n3. RELATION OF BOTH ASPECTS\n\nOn grounds deducible from the above, neither the instructive nor the\ndescriptive type is secured in the exclusive one-sidedness which would\nobliterate every vestige of art, and we find in the one case that the\nexternal reality is brought into appreciable relation with that which\nis seized by mind as significance, just as conversely in the other the\nabstract universal is related to its concrete mode of appearance.\n\n(_a_) We have already explained how this is so in the case of the\ndidactic poem. Without depicting external conditions and particular\nphenomena, without the episodical narration of mythological and other\nillustrations we shall rarely find a genuine example of it. By means,\nhowever, of a parallel series of this character in which the universal\nfor mind is thus laid alongside of the particular object of sense we\nhave merely a quite collateral relation set up instead of a union\ncarried out in every detail, a parallelogism, moreover, which does not\naffect the entire content and its all-embracing artistic form, but\nmerely isolated aspects and traits.\n\n(_b_) Such a modicum of true relation is particularly conspicuous in\nthe case of descriptive poetry, in so far as its delineations are\naccompanied with such emotions as the sight of natural landscape, the\ncourse of the days and seasons, a wooded hill, a lake, a babbling\nbrook, a church, a picturesquely situated village and the poor man's\npeaceful cottage are likely to arouse. We find consequently in\ndescriptive poetry much as we do in the didactic poem episodes which,\nalthough merely accessory, animate us, in particular through the\nreflection of affecting emotions, such as a tender melancholy or little\ntouches of occasional experience taken from the more homely levels of\nlife. Such an association of spiritual feeling with the external facts\nof Nature can still only too easily in this type of poetry remain\nwholly external in its presentation. For the natural or local condition\nis here assumed to be something which quite independently confronts\nus. Man no doubt draws near to it; under its influence he entertains\nthis or that feeling, but there is nothing which essentially unites\nmoonlight, forests, valleys, landscape, and so on, with the emotions\nof the soul they excite. I am not here either the interpreter or the\nanimating focus of Nature, but feel, as each happens to confront me,\na wholly indefinite kind of harmonious reciprocity establish itself\nbetween the objects I face and the emotional life which they stimulate.\nMost of all are we Germans devoted to this type of picturesque\ndescription, and along with it to every variety of exquisite feeling\nand heart effervescence such natural scenery can possibly evoke. It is\na public high-road over which all may march in line. Even some of the\nodes of Klopstock are tuned to its key.\n\n(_c_) But _thirdly_, if we inquire whether there is not a profounder\nrelation between these opposed aspects of the internal feeling and\nexternal object, we shall find our nearest approach to an answer in the\nancient _epigram._\n\n(_\u03b1_) The very name of the epigram already expresses the original gist\nof it. It is an _inscription._\n\nUnquestionably we find, also here on the one hand an object, and on\nthe other we have a definite statement propounded as to this object;\nbut in the most ancient epigrams, among which Hesiod has preserved a\nfew examples, we do not have the picture of an object accompanied by\nany reaction of feeling, rather we find, the matter of fact put before\nus in two distinct ways. In the one the external existence, and with\nit the meaning thereof and explanation, is concentrated in its form\nas epigram on the keenest and most forcible of its characteristics.\nThis original characterization of the epigram, however, even among the\nGreeks, later examples have already lost; and we find an increasing\ntendency both to secure and apply the passing conceits of fancy,\nwhether ingenious, witty, or merely entertaining, to particular\nincidents, works of art, people and so on, ideas in short which do not\nso much set forth the object itself, as illustrate the condition of\npersonal feeling in reference to the same.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The main point to observe here is this that, just in proportion\nas the object itself fails as such to become the predominant factor\nin this type of presentment to that extent it becomes less complete.\nIn this connection we may also in passing mention a few more modern\nexamples of an analogous nature. The novels of Tieck, for instance,\nnot unfrequently have to deal with specific works of art or artists,\nor a definite gallery of pictures, composition of music and so forth,\nand they have then some nice little romance attached. These particular\npictures, however, which the reader has never seen, these compositions,\nwhich he has never heard, the poet obviously can neither bring before\nour eyes nor ears. From this point of view the entire expression of his\nart, in so far as it depends on objects of this nature, must remain\nsubject to this defect. In the same way in yet more important romances\nwriters have sought to embody as the real content of their work entire\narts, and their finest productions as Heinse, for instance, did with\nthat of music in his _Hildegard von Hohenthal._ But in every case\nwhere we find that a work of art throughout is unable to reproduce\nwith essential adequacy its fundamental subject-matter, we can\nonly conclude that the primary cause of this defect arises from the\ninadequacy of the type of art selected.\n\n(_\u03b3_) To remove the defects above adverted to two things are clearly\nessential; the objective fact and the explanation of it which is\noffered to mind must not be suffered to fall into absolute _severation_\nas was the case in the type last considered, nor must the union when\neffected, an equally important point, assume a character _identical_\nwith either the symbolical, sublime or purely comparative types. A yet\nmore genuine form of presentment must be sought for under a condition\nin which we find that the fact in question supplies an elucidation\nof its ideal content by means of its external mode of appearance,\nand actually in this mode, a condition under which that which is of\nspirit unfolds itself completely in the form of its reality, and the\ncorporeal and external presence is simply the adequate explication of\nthe spiritual and ideal. In order, however, to follow up this problem\nto its complete _fulfilment_ we must bid farewell to the symbolic types\nof art. For the essential character of symbolism consisted precisely in\nthis that the union of the animating principle of the significance with\nits spatial embodiment always _stopped short_ of such completeness.\n\n[Footnote 76: In other words everything created being posited as\nunsubstantial apart from the One necessitated the conclusion that\nall the Goodness, etc., there divulged was referable to that Supreme\nSource.]\n\n[Footnote 77: _Bewussten_, that is a symbolism conscious of its typical\ncharacter. I have above used the expression \"premeditated,\" but\n\"conscious\" is perhaps sufficient.]\n\n[Footnote 78: I understand _auf solche Weise,_ \"under such a mode as\nexpressed either by Symbolism or the Sublime.\"]\n\n[Footnote 79: It is prosaic because it has no absolute root in reality.]\n\n[Footnote 80: Lit., \"As consciousness lays hold of the same in the\nclear light of ordinary reason\" (_seiner verst\u00e4ndigen Klarheit._)]\n\n[Footnote 81: _Theoretische_, that is personal, contemplative rather\nthan practical.]\n\n[Footnote 82: Lit., \"and his freedom secludes itself with a prophetic\ninstinct (_ahndend_) in itself.\"]\n\n[Footnote 83: _Wie die Faust auf das Auge passt._ A proverbial\nexpression unknown to me. We should rather say \"a beam in our eyes.\"]\n\n[Footnote 84: As contrasted, that is, with the fable.]\n\n[Footnote 85: An Indian dancing girl.]\n\n[Footnote 86: Hegel uses the term in the plural, _Die Verwandlungen_,\npossibly with reference to Ovid's Metamorphoses.]\n\n[Footnote 87: _Standpunkt, i.e._, the form viewed relatively to the\ngeneral type.]\n\n[Footnote 88: _Beseelung._]\n\n[Footnote 89: Plastic must be taken here in the very loose and pregnant\nsense of any art that deals with external material.]\n\n[Footnote 90: _Ein grammatisches Subject._ Hegel presumably means that\nit is merely subject under the mode of literary expression without\npossessing the true determination of personality.]\n\n[Footnote 91: _Aush\u00f6hlen muss._ We should rather say that the\nallegorist is forced to attenuate (lit. hollow out) the substance of\nsubjectivity, etc. But I have left the more literal rendering.]\n\n[Footnote 92: In the German _fassen_, _begreifen._]\n\n[Footnote 93: _Einer konkreten Anschauung._ That is, a quality or\nfeature that belongs to the phenomena of the concrete world of\nperception.]\n\n[Footnote 94: Of course this is not so in the English equivalent, where\nthe primary sense is still material.]\n\n[Footnote 95: Lit., \"Of expressions in the strict sense of the term.\"]\n\n[Footnote 96: _Ihr ruhiger vollst\u00e4ndig ausgestaltender Sinn._ The\nmeaning that declares itself completely through the form in classic\nrepose.]\n\n[Footnote 97: _Ausf\u00fchrliche_, explicit in all its detail.]\n\n[Footnote 98: _Das F\u00fcr-sich-seyn._]\n\n[Footnote 99: I give the literal translation. I presume a more\nintelligible one would be \"but actual existence in its self-defined\nconcreteness.\" The passage is not easy to follow.]\n\n[Footnote 100:\n\n/$\n     Silent we pounded up carbon, saltpeter, and sulphur,\n     Set the train going. Good friend! How did our cracker find _you?_\n\n     Some as illuminate balls soared prodigious while others exploded,\n     Many we flashed in our fun simply the eye to delight.\n$/\n]\n\n[Footnote 101: I find this analysis of the image more than usually\ndifficult to follow, I have therefore made my translation very literal.\nI must confess that this distinction between the image and the metaphor\nappears to me rather an example of hyper-subtlety on Hegel's part, or\nas some might say, an effort to make what is virtually only a verbal\ndistinction correspond to a more real difference of idea.]\n\n[Footnote 102: That is the emphatically personal.]\n\n[Footnote 103: _Die Schwelgerei._]\n\n[Footnote 104: In the German the sentence is continuous. Our version\nclearly gives another reading to the Hebrew.]\n\n[Footnote 105: May be a misprint for \"thy presence,\" _deine_ instead of\n_die._]\n\n[Footnote 106: Chapman's translation.]\n\n[Footnote 107: Chapman's translation, somewhat an extension of the\nGreek it must be admitted.]\n\n[Footnote 108: _Theoretisch_, _i.e._, in contemplative repose.]\n\n[Footnote 109: Such I take to be the contrast implied in the words _den\nAdel ihrer Gesinnung_ and _die Macht ihrers Gem\u00fcths. Gesinnung_ is the\nsense-perception. _Gem\u00fcth_ includes the creative fertility.]\n\n[Footnote 110: _Hier_, _i.e._, as contrasted with the first stage of\nthe discussion.]\n\n[Footnote 111: \"Henry IV, Part II,\" act i, scene I.]\n\n[Footnote 112: \"King Richard II,\" act iv, sc. 1.]\n\n[Footnote 113: \"King Henry VIII,\" act iii, sc. 1.]\n\n[Footnote 114: \"Julius Caesar,\" act iv, sc. 3.]\n\n[Footnote 115: \"Macbeth,\" act v, sc. 5.]\n\n[Footnote 116: \"Henry VIII,\" act iii, sc. 2.]\n\n[Footnote 117: \"Antony and Cleopatra,\" act V, sc. 2.]\n\n[Footnote 118: The meaning is that the selection is not made merely\nwith reference to external resemblance, but is also based on relations\nonly existing in the soul of the artist and therefore to that extent\ncapricious, however much they appear to be essential.]\n\n[Footnote 119: _Ein blosses Sollen,_ lit., a mere \"should,\" a mere\nmovement in a given direction.]\n\n[Footnote 120: This is implied in the contrast of the verbs _umstalten_\nand _\u00fcberkleiden._]\n\n\n\n\nSUBSECTION II\n\nTHE CLASSICAL TYPE OF ART\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nTHE CLASSIC TYPE IN GENERAL\n\nThr central point[121] of art's evolution is the union, in a\nself-integrated totality, carried to the point of its freest\nexpression, of content and form wholly adequate thereto. This\nrealization, coinciding as it does with the entire notional concept\nof the beautiful, towards which the symbolic form of art strove in\nvain, first becomes apparent in _classical art._ We have already, in\nour previous consideration of the Idea of the beautiful and of art,\noutlined the general character of classic art. The _Ideal_ supplies a\ncontent and form to classical art, which in this adequate mode in which\nit is embodied reveals that which true art is according to its notion.\n\nTo perfect this result, however, all the various phases of art, whose\nevolution is the subject-matter of our previous investigations, are\ncontributive. For classical beauty has for its ideal substance[122]\nfree and _independent_ significance, that is to say, not the\nsignificance of any particular thing, but a significance which\n_declares itself,_ and thereby points to its substance. This is the\n_spiritual_ substance, which in general terms is that which makes of\nitself an object. In this objectification _of itself_ it possesses the\nform of externality, which, as identical with its ideal character, is\nconsequently also on its own part the significance of itself, and is\nmade conscious of itself by this self-knowledge. It is true that in\nour consideration of the symbolical our point of departure was that of\nthe unity of the significance and its mode of envisagement in the art\nproduct; but this unity was _purely immediate_, and for this reason\ninadequate.\n\nFor the real content either remained essentially the natural according\nto its _substance_ and abstract _universality_, and consequently the\n_isolated_ thing in the objective world of Nature[123], although it\nwas regarded as the real determination of that universality, was not\nable to present the same in a mode adequate to it, or that which is\npurely ideal, and only to be apprehended by spirit, in so far as it\nwas received in the artistic content, carried with it in that which\nwas foreign to its essential nature, namely the immediate individual\nand sensuous thing, the mode of its appearance that was in fact\nincongruent with it. And generally here significance and form only\nstood in the relation of mere affinity and suggestion; and however\nmuch in certain respects they could be brought together homogeneously,\nthey as clearly fell apart again in other directions. This original\nunity was therefore torn asunder; this simple and abstract inwardness\nor ideality was imaged for the Hindoo conception of the world on the\none side in the manifold reality of Nature, and on the other in finite\nhuman existence; and the imagination, in the unrest of its impetuous\nmotion, was carried from the one to the other by turns, without being\neither able to deliver the ideal in its essentially pure and absolute\nself-subsistency, or to thoroughly infuse it with the phenomenal matter\nas it was presented and informed, and so reproduce it throughout that\nmaterial in undisturbed union. The disorder and grotesque appearance,\nwhich arose in the commingling of elements opposed to one another,\nno doubt again vanished, but only to make way for an enigmatical\ncondition equally unsatisfying, which, instead of solving the problem,\nwas only able to prevent the problem's solution. For here, too, still\nwas lacking the freedom and self-subsistency of content, which only\nthereby is rendered explicit in that the Inward is presented to\nconsciousness as in itself a whole, and by this means as that which\noverlaps the externality which in the first instance is other than\nitself and foreign to itself. This essential self-subsistency, cognized\nas free and absolute significance, is self-consciousness, which has for\nits content the Absolute, and for its form the subjectivity of Spirit.\nIn contradistinction to this self-determining, thinking, willing power\neverything else is self-subsistent in merely a relative and momentary\nsense. The material phenomena of Nature such as the sun, the heavens,\nstars, plants, animals, stones, streams and sea have only an abstract\nrelation to themselves, and are in the eternal process of Nature bound\nup with other facts of natural existence, so that they can only pass\nas self-subsistent for the finite perception. The real significance of\nthe Absolute is not presented in them. Nature is indeed under a mode\nexpressed[124], but only under the mode of what is outside itself; its\ninwardness is not as such for itself, but poured forth into the varied\nshow of its appearances, and consequently devoid of self subsistency.\nOnly in Spirit as the concrete, free and, infinite self-relation,\nis the true and absolute significance actually disclosed, and\nself-subsistent under the mode of its determinate existence.\n\nOn the way to this emancipation of the Idea from the immediately\nsensuous medium and to its self-establishment we are confronted by\nthe _Sublime_ and the consecration of the imagination. The absolute\nsignificance is, that is to say, in the first instance the thinking,\nabsolute and senseless[125] One, which is self-related as the Absolute,\nand in this relation affirms that which it creates; Nature and finitude\ngenerally, as the negative, thing, that which is essentially in itself\ndevoid of stability. It is the explicit and essential Universal,\nconceived as the objective power over collective existence, whether\nit be that this One be brought now to consciousness and represented\nin its expressly negative attitude to the created, thing, or in its\npositively pantheistic inherence in the same. The twofold defect of\nthis point of view, so far as it is connected with art, consists first\nin this that this One and Universal which constitutes the fundamental\nsignificance has not yet in itself arrived at the closer determination\nand distinction, and by this means just as little at the point of\nreal individuality and personality in which it could be apprehended\nas Spirit, and could be set before the sensuous perception in a form\nwhich would be applicable to its spiritual content, according to its\nown notion, and duly conformable therewith. The concrete idea of Spirit\non the contrary requires, that it both defines and distinguishes itself\nin itself, and by the very act of making itself an object discovers\nthrough this reduplication an external phenomenon, which although\nmaterial and present, nevertheless is throughout permeated by Spirit,\nand consequently taken by itself expresses nothing at all, simply\npermitting Spirit to declare itself as its inner core, the expression\nand reality of which it is. _Secondly_, from the point of view of the\nobjective world the defect is bound up with this abstraction of an\nAbsolute to which the principle of self-determination is lacking that\nnow also the real phenomenon, being that which is essentially without\nsubstance, is unable to set forth under any true mode the Absolute in\nconcrete shape. In contrast to those songs of praise and glory, those\ncelebrations of the abstract and universal majesty of God, we have\nnow in the passage we are making to a higher form of art to recall\nto our minds that phase of negativity, change, pain, and progress\nthrough life and death, which we discovered among other matter in the\nconceptions of the East. We have here set before us the principle of\n_self-distinction_ in its essential character under a mode which is\nunable to unite with its conception the unity and self-subsistency of\nthat subjective principle. Both aspects, however, both the essential\nand self-substantive unity, and the differentiation of that unity by\nvirtue of a self-defined content, are equally necessary to unfold a\ntrue and free self-subsistency in its concrete and mediate totality.\n\nIn this connection we may incidentally, together with this reference\nto the Sublime, mention that further conception which at the same\ntime entered on its process of explication in the East. It is that\napprehension, in opposition to the substantiality of the one God,\nof internal freedom, self-subsistency and innate independence of the\nindividual, so far as the elaboration of this impulse was permitted\nto Eastern nations. The main source of this attitude we must seek for\namong the Arabs, who in their deserts, upon the infinite sea of these\nexpanses, with the clear heavens over their heads, in a nature such as\nthis have emphasized their own courage and the bravery of their hand,\nas also the means of their self-preservation, whether it be camel,\nhorse, lance, or sword. Here we find the more stubborn independence\nof personal character asserting itself in its contrast to the Hindoo\nsoftness and lack of individuality, as also to the more recent\npantheism of Mohammedan poetry, and opposing also to the objective\nworld its circumscribed, securely defined and immediate reality. With\nthis incipient stage of the independence of the individual we must also\nassociate free friendship, hospitality, and august nobility, but at\nthe same time an insatiable lust of revenge and the inextinguishable\nmemory of a hate, which is insistent and will have satisfaction with\nan unsparing passion and an absolutely remorseless cruelty. None\nthe less all that happens on this soil is wholly within the circle\nof humanity. We have here deeds of revenge, conditions of love,\ntraits of self-sacrificing nobility from which the fantastic and the\nwonderful have vanished; everything is carried forward in the secure\nand determinate shape which the causative connection of the facts\nnecessitate. A similar conception of real objects which are referred\nto their determinate basis of actuality[126], and are made visible\nin their free power, not merely in that which conserves an exterior\npurpose[127], we discovered in an earlier stage of our investigations\namong the Hebrews. The more assured independence of character, the\nsavagery of revenge and hate lie, too, at the root of the original\nJewish nationality. But the difference is at once pronounced, that in\nthis case even the most powerful images of Nature are depicted less\nfor their own sake than for that of the glory of God, as related to\nwhich they at once again lose their self-subsistency; and furthermore\neven hate and persecution are not merely a personal matter affecting\npersons, but are embraced in the service of God as national vengeance\nagainst whole peoples. As, for example, the later Psalms and yet more\nthe prophets frequently only are able to desire and plead for the\nmisfortune and overthrow of other nations, and not unfrequently find\nthe main strength of their utterance in curses and imprecations.\n\nNo doubt the elements of true beauty and art are presented to each of\nthese points of view above noticed; but they are in the first instance\nbrought together in haphazard and confused fashion, and are set in a\nfalse relation to each other, instead of being referred to a genuine\nprinciple of identity. For this reason the purely ideal and abstract\nunity of the Divine is unable to bring forth any entirely adequate\nart-product in the form that is characterized by real individuality;\nand at the same time Nature and human individuality either are\nmanifestly not, whether we consider their inward principle, or their\nexternal mode of appearance, permeated by the Absolute, or at least\nnot positively pervaded by it. This _externality_ of significance,\nwhich is thus made the essential content, and the determinate mode of\nappearance under which it is generally reproduced is finally and in the\n_third_ place exemplified in the _comparative activity_ of art[128].\nIn this type both sides have become wholly independent, and the unity\nthat binds them together is merely the invisible subjectivity which\ncompares. For this very reason that which is defective in such an\nexternal presentment returned in ever more emphatic degree and betrayed\nitself as that which was for the genuine art representation merely\nnegative or, rather, entirely subversive. And when this dissolution is\nreally effected the significance can no longer remain the inherently\n_abstract_ ideal, but the inherently determinate and self-defined\nideal principle, which in this its concrete totality possesses quite\nas essentially the other aspect thereof, that is, the form of an\ninherently exclusive and determinate appearance; and consequently in\nits external existence, as that which is its very own, merely expresses\nand signifies itself.\n\n1. This essentially free totality which remains constant to itself\nthroughout each successive self-determination in something other than\nitself, this ideal principle, which in its objectivity is self-related\nis the essentially true, free, and self-subsistent, which in its\ndeterminate existence unfolds nothing other than itself. In the realm\nof art, however, this form is not present in its form of infinitude,\nis not, that is, the _thinking_ of itself, as the essential, absolute,\nwhich is made an object for itself in the form of ideal universality,\nand makes itself, wholly explicit, but is still in immediate natural\nand sensuous existence. In so far, however, as significance is\nself-substantive, it must in art borrow its form from its own resources\nand inherently possess the principle of its externality. It must\nconsequently, it is true, repair to Nature, but as predominant over\nthat which is external, which, in so far as it is itself an aspect of\nthe totality of this ideal realm, no longer exists as purely natural\nobjectivity, but being without its own self-subsistence, simply serves\nas the expression of Spirit. In this interpenetration consequently the\nnatural form and externality, which is modified by Spirit contains out\nand out on its part, as immediately given, its significance in itself,\nand no longer points to this as to something separate and different\nfrom the corporeal appearance. And this is that identification of\nthe spiritual and natural which is appropriate to the notion of\nSpirit, which, that is, does not merely proceed no further than the\nneutralization of the two opposed aspects, but raises that which is\nspiritual into the higher totality, in which it is able to preserve\nitself in its own Other, to bring the natural within its own ideal\nrange and to express itself in and relatively to the natural. It is on\nthis type of unity that the notion of classical art is based.\n\n(_a_) This identity of significance and bodily form may be approached\nyet more closely under the view of it that no separation of these\nopposed aspects[129] takes place within their consummated union;\nand consequently the ideal principle does not, as _purely inward\nspirituality_, return upon itself from out of the corporeal and\nconcrete reality, under a process which would give us once more the\ndistinction of these aspects in opposition. And inasmuch as the\nobjective and external, in which Spirit is made visible as an object\nof sense, according to the very notion of it, is at once throughout\n_defined_ and _separate_, mind which is free, and which it is the\nfunction of art to elaborate in the form of reality truly commensurate\nwith it, can only be that spiritual individuality which is not merely\n_defined_ but essentially _self-consistent_ in its natural form.\nFor this reason it is the _human_ which constitutes the centre and\ncontent of true beauty and art; but as content of art--we have already\ndeveloped the subject in discussing the notion of the Ideal--it is\nbrought under the essential determination of concrete individuality and\nthe external appearance adequate thereto, which in its objectivization\nhas been thus purified from the imperfection of the finite condition.\n\n(_b_) Under such a consideration of the matter it is at once obvious\nthat the classical mode of representation, if we take it for what\nit _essentially_ is, can no longer be of the _symbolic_ type in the\nstrict sense of the term, however much now and again we may find along\nwith it the play of that which belongs to symbolism. Greek mythology,\nfor example, which, in so far as art asserts its mastery over it,\nbelongs to the classical Ideal, is, if we grasp it in its fundamental\ncharacter, not of a beauty which is symbolical, but unfolded under\nthe genuine character of the Art-ideal, albeit there may be certain\nremnants of symbolism which adhere to it, as we shall shortly see.\n\nIf we now proceed to ask ourselves what, then, is the nature of the\ndeterminate form, which can thus enter into this unity with Spirit\nwithout offering merely the suggestion of its content, we shall find it\ndetermined for us in the conception that in classical art both content\nand form must be adequate, must, that is, in the aspect of form meet\nthe demands of totality and essential self-subsistency. For it is a\nprime condition of the free self-subsistence[130] of the whole, which\nconstitutes the fundamental determination of classical art, that either\nof these aspects, the ideal form no less than its external embodiment,\nshould be essentially a totality which goes to make the notion of the\nwhole. Only by this means is either side _essentially_ identical with\nthe other, and consequently their difference reduced to the purely\nformal differences of one and the same, through which also the totality\nappears now as free, the adequacy of both of its aspects being now\nfully displayed, inasmuch as it declares itself in either of them and\nis one and the same in both.\n\nThe lack of this free reduplication of itself within the same unity\ncarried with it in the symbolic type precisely this absence of freedom\nin the content and with it also in the form. Spirit was here not\nclear to itself, and for this reason declared its external reality\nnot as that which belonged to itself, set forth in its explicit\nsignificance through and in it. Conversely the form had no doubt to\nbe significant, but its significance only lay partly and on one side\nin it. The external existence gave here primarily to what passed for\nits ideal aspect, though still under a mode that was external, merely\n_itself_ instead of a significance which declared an ideal content;\nand in attempting to show that there was something further which it\nsuggested its power was necessarily put under a constraint. In this\ndistortion it neither remained true to itself, nor was it the Other,\nthat is significance, but declared nothing save that which was a\nproblematical connection and confusion between incompatible things, or\ntended to be the purely co-adjutant attire and external adornment of\nwhat was simply the glorification of the one absolute significance of\nall things whatever, until it was finally obliged to surrender itself\nto the purely subjective caprice of comparison with a significance\nwhich was far removed from it and indifferent to it. If this relation\nof unfreedom is to find a release the form must already inherently\npossess its significance, or, to speak more definitely, must possess\nthe significance of mind or Spirit itself. This form is essentially\nthe _human_ form because the externality of this form is alone capable\nof revealing the spiritual in sensuous guise. Human expression in\ncountenance, eye, pose, and carriage is, it is true, material and\ntherein not that which the spirit is; but within this corporeal frame\nitself the human exterior is not merely alive and a part of Nature as\nthe animal is, but it is the bodily presence which reflects Spirit\nto itself. Through the human eye we look into the soul of a man just\nas through the entire presentment of him his spiritual character is\nexpressed. When consequently the body belongs to Spirit, as _its_\ndeterminate presence, Spirit is also that ideal principle which is\nappropriate to the body, and is no form of ideality which is foreign\nto the external form in the sense that materiality still inherently\npossesses a significance other than that to which it testifies or\nsuggests. It is quite true that the human form still carries within\nit much of the universal animal type, but the fundamental distinction\nbetween the human and the animal body consists simply in this, that\nthe human is obviously, by virtue of its entire conformation, declared\nas the dwelling, nay, we may add the only possible dwelling-place of\nSpirit. And for this reason also it is only in the body that Spirit\nis immediately present to others. This is, however, not the place\nto discuss the necessity[131] of this association and the peculiar\nreciprocity of soul and body. We must here assume this necessity. We\nhave, of course, many indications on the human figure of death and\nugliness, that is, of other influences and defects which are traceable\nto their source. When we find this to be the case it is the function\nof art to expunge the divergence between the purely natural and the\nspiritual, to exalt the external bodily appearance to a form of beauty,\nthat is, a form throughout dominated and suffused with the animation of\nSpirit.\n\nWe have seen, then, that in this type of representation symbolism is\nno longer presented by the external relation, and everything that\npartook of effort, strain, distortion, and perversion is eliminated.\nFor when Spirit has grasped itself as Spirit it is at once explicit\nand clear; and on the same ground is also its association with the\nform adequate to it from the side of externality, something which is\nessentially ready to the hand and a free gift, which does not require,\nas a means for its declaration, a bond of connection introduced by the\nimagination, and contrasting with that which is immediately presented.\nJust as little is the classical form of art exhibited as a purely\nmaterial and superficial personification. It is Spirit in its entirety,\nin so far as it is intended to make it the content of the art-product,\nwhich passes into that bodily shape, and is able to identify itself\ncompletely with it. From this point of view we may considerer\nthe conception that art has followed the human figure by means of\nimitation. According to the common view, however, this acceptance of\nthe human figure as the model of imitation appears as a matter of\naccident, whereas we should rather maintain the art which has arrived\nat its maturity is obliged to reveal its substance by a necessary\nlaw in the form of man as he appears to sense perception, because\nSpirit alone obtains in it the existence fitting to it in the sensuous\nmaterial of Nature.\n\nAll that we have here observed relatively to the human body and\nits expression applies also to human emotions, impulses, actions,\nexperiences, and occupations. The externalization of these is also, in\nclassical art, not merely characterized as a part of Nature's life,\nbut as that of Spirit; and this ideal aspect is brought into full and\nadequate identity with that which is external appearance.\n\n(_c_) Inasmuch, then, as classical art comprehends free spirituality\nas determinate individuality, and immediately envisages the same in\nits bodily presentment, it frequently falls under the reproach of\nanthropomorphism. Even among the Greeks, to take an example, Xenophanes\nridiculed the presentation of Gods by means of the sensuous image in\nhis famous remark, that if lions had been sculptors they would have\ngiven their gods the external shape of lions. Of a similar tendency\nis that piece of French wit: God made men according to His image,\nbut man has returned Him the compliment by creating God in the image\nof man. If we consider the matter relatively to the form of art that\nfollows, the romantic, we may in this respect observe that the content\nof the classical form of beauty is no doubt defective precisely as\nthe religion of art is so; but so little does the defect consist in\nanthropomorphism as such, that we may rather maintain, on the contrary,\nthat though classical art is certainly sufficiently anthropomorphic for\nart, for the higher form of religion it is not enough so. Christianity\nhas carried anthropomorphism to far greater lengths; for, according\nto Christian doctrine, God is not merely individuality in a human\nform, but a real and singular individual entirely God, and entirely\na real man who has entered into all conditions of existence, and is\nno mere Ideal of beauty and art created by man. If our conception of\nthe Absolute is limited to an abstract Being essentially without any\ncharacterization then, no doubt, every kind of representation vanishes,\nbut if God is Spirit he must appear as man, as individual subject,\nnot as ideal human being, but as actual participator in the entire\nexternality of temporal conditions[132] which pertain to immediate\nand natural existence. In other words, from the Christian point of\nview, the infinite movement is carried to the extremest verge of\nopposition, and only returns to the absolute unity as the resolution of\nthis separation. The man-becoming of God is incident to this phase or\nsignificant moment of separation; as real and individual subjectivity\nit is involved in the difference between unity and substance in its\nbare extension, and in this common sphere of temporal and spatial\ncondition creates the consciousness in and pain of division in order\nthrough the ultimate resolution of such contradiction by the same\nmeans to arrive at eternal reconciliation. And this essential point\nof passage in the process, according to the Christian conception, is\ninherent in the nature of God Himself. As a matter of fact, God is here\napprehended as absolute and free Spirit, in which Nature and immediate\nsingularity is indeed proferred us as a phasal moment of a process,\nbut, at the same time, as one which is necessarily transcended[133]. In\nclassical art, on the contrary, the material medium is neither killed\nnor suffers death, but for this reason also we cannot wholly find in it\nthe resurrection of Spirit. Classical art and its religion of beauty\ndoes not consequently wholly satisfy the depths of Spirit. However\nessentially concrete it may be, it still remains abstract for humanity\nbecause, instead of movement and reconciliation obtained by the\ncontradiction we have adverted to of that infinite subjective process,\nit merely possesses as its life that undisturbed harmony of the free\nindividuality determined in its adequate existence, this repose in its\nreality, this happiness, this content and greatness in itself, this\neternal blitheness and bliss which even in unhappiness and pain does\nnot lose its secure reliance on itself. Classical art has not worked\nits way to the full contradiction which is fundamentally involved in\nthe notion of the Absolute and overcome that contradiction. For this\nreason it does not recognize the aspect which is in close relation\nto this contradiction, that is the essential obduracy of the subject\nas opposed to that which is ethical and of absolute significance,\nnamely, sin and evil, no less than the waste of individual life in its\nown subjective aims, the dissolution and incontinence of that world\nwhich we may summarily describe as that of the entire sphere of its\ndivisions, which is productive on the side both of sense and spirit of\ndistortion, ugliness, and the repulsive. Classical art fails to cross\nthe pure territory of the genuine Ideal.\n\n2. In so far as the _historical_ realization of classical art is\nconcerned, it is hardly necessary to observe that we must seek for\nthat among the Greeks. Classical beauty, with its infinite range of\ncontent, material and form, is the gift bestowed on the Greek people;\nand this folk is entitled to our respect on the ground that it has\nproduced art in its highest form of vitality. The Greeks, if we regard\nthe form of their realized life immediately presented us, lived in\nthat happy middle sphere of self-conscious and subjective freedom and\nsubstantive ethical life. They did not persist, on the one hand, in the\nunfree Oriental unity, which is necessarily bound up with a religious\nand political despotism for the reason that the individuality of the\nsubject is overwhelmed in a universal substance, or, in some particular\naspect of the same, because it has essentially as personality no\nright, and consequently no ground to stand on; neither, on the other,\ndid they pass beyond to that subjective penetration, in which the\nparticular subject separates itself from the whole and the universal,\nin order to make itself more explicit in its ideality; and only through\na higher return to the ideal totality of a purely spiritual world,\nsucceeds in its final purification of the substantive and essential.\nOn the contrary, in the ethical life of Greece, the individual was\nself-substantive and essentially free, without disengaging himself\nfrom the general interests of the realized State immediately visible\nto him and the positive immanence of spiritual freedom in the temporal\ncondition. The universal of morality and the abstract freedom of\npersonality, both in its ideal and external aspect, remains in\naccordance with the principle of Greek life in undisturbed harmony,\nand during the time in which, even in real existence, this principle\nasserted itself in still unimpaired purity, the self-substantiality of\nthe citizen did not stand forth in relief in contrast to a morality\nwhich was to be distinguished from it: the substance of political life\nwas so far merged in the individual, as he on his part sought his own\nliberty absolutely in the universal ends of the entire civic life.\nThe feeling for beauty, the significance and spirit of this joyous\nharmony interpenetrates all productions, in which the freedom of Greece\nis self-conscious, and in which she has made visible to herself her\nbeing. Consequently her view of the world is just the midway ground\non which beauty commences its true life and breaks open its serene\ndominion; the intermediate realm, that is, of free vitality, which is\nnot merely a fact at once immediate and natural, but one which is the\ncreation of a spiritual point of view revealed by art, the realm, that\nis, of a culture of reflection, and at the same time of an absence of\nreflection, which neither isolates the individual nor on the other\nhand is competent to bring back again its negativity, pain, and\nunhappiness to a positive unity and reconciliation--a realm, however,\nwhich, just as in the case of Life itself, is at the same time only\na point of passage, however true it be that it scales at this point\nthe summit of beauty, and in the form of its plastic individuality is\nso spiritually concrete and rich, that all tones have their interplay\nwithin it, and also, too, that which is for its own standpoint what\nlies behind it, albeit it is no longer present as an absolute and\nunqualified principle, is nevertheless felt as that which accompanies\nit--a kind of background to it. In this sense the Greek nation has\nalso, in the representation of its gods, made its spirit visible to the\nperceptions and the imaginative consciousness, and bestowed on them,\nby means of art a determinate existence, which is entirely conformable\nwith their true content. By virtue of this homogeneous form, which\nis alike consistent with the fundamental notion of Greek art and\nGreek mythology, art became in Greece the highest expression for the\nAbsolute, and Greek religion is the religion of art itself, whereas\nromantic art, which appeared later, although it is undoubtedly art,\nsuggests a more exalted form of consciousness than art is in a position\nto supply.\n\n3. In establishing the position, as we have just done, on the one\nhand, that essentially free individuality is the content of classical\nart, and, on the other, that a like freedom is the equally requisite\ndeterminant of the form, we have already assumed that the entire\nblending of both together, however much it may be presented in the\nimmediate form, is nevertheless no original unity such as Nature's,\nbut is necessarily an _artificial_ association made possible by the\nsubjective spirit. Classical art, in so far as its content and its\nform is spontaneity[134], originates in the freedom of the Spirit\nthat is clear to itself. And for this reason also we may say that in\nthe _third_ place the artist occupies a position different from that\nof his predecessors. That is to say his production declares itself\nas the spontaneous _product_ of a man in the full possession of his\nsenses[135], who as truly _knows_ what he wills as he is _able_ to\naccomplish such a purpose; who is consequently obscure to himself\nneither in respect to the significance and substantive content of that\nwhich he has resolved to make visible in the form of art, nor finds\nhimself hindered by any defects of technique from executing the result\naimed after.\n\n(_a_) If we look more closely at this change in the position of the\nartist we shall in the first place find this freedom announced to\nus relatively to the _content_ in this way, that he does not feel\ncompelled to seek for it with the restless process of symbolical\nfermentation. Symbolic art remains the captive of its travail to\nbring to birth and make clear its form to its own vision, and this\nembodiment is itself only the original form[136], that is, on the\none side Being in the immediate guise of Nature, and on the other\nthe ideal abstraction of the universal, unity, conversion, change,\nbecoming, origination, and passing away. In this original form of\nthe artistic process, however, art does not come to its rightful\npossessions. Consequently, these representations of symbolic art, which\nshould be expositions of content, remain still themselves riddles and\nproblems, and merely testify to the struggle after clarity and the\neffort of Spirit, which on and on seeks to discover without obtaining\nthe rest and repose of discovery. In contrast to this troublous\nsearch the content must for the classic artist be presented him as\nsomething _already there_ in the sense that as a thing essentially\npositive, as belief, popular opinion, or as an actual event either\nof myth or tradition, it is determined for his imagination in all\nits essential character. Relatively to this objectively determined\nmaterial the artist is placed in the freer relation that he does not\nhimself undertake the process of production and fermentation, and\npass no further than the impulse after the real significances of\nhis art, but rather that for him a completely explicit and unfolded\ncontent lies before him which he accepts and freely reproduces from\nhimself. The Greek artists received their material from the popular\nreligion in which already that which had been brought over to Greece\nfrom the Orient had begun to receive a form of its own. Pheidias\nborrowed his Zeus from Homer, and other tragedians also did not create\nthe fundamental groundwork of that they represented. In the same way\nthe artists of Christianity, Dante and Raphael, have only reclothed\nwhat was already to hand in the doctrines of their faith and their\nreligious conceptions. This is also, it is true, from a certain point\nof view in like manner the case in the art of the Sublime, but with\nthis difference, that here the relation to the content, as the _one_\nsubstance, does not permit subjectivity to come by its just claims, and\nallows to it no self-substantive finality. The comparative form of art,\non the other hand, no doubt starts with the selection of significances\nas images which it makes use of, but this initiative of selection\nremains at the disposition of _subjective_ caprice, and on its part\ndispenses with all substantive individuality, which constitutes the\nnotion of classical art, and for this reason must rest with the\npersonality which creates it.\n\n(_b_) The more, however, an explicitly unfolded content is present\nfor the artist in popular beliefs, myth, and other actual facts, the\nmore his energy is concentrated upon the object of endowing such a\ncontent with the _external embodiment_ of art fitting to it. While\nin this respect symbolic art dissipates its resources in a thousand\nforms, and with unbridled imaginative power lays about it for material\nthat it fails either to measure or define in order to adapt forms that\nare never really conformable to the significance it is seeking after,\nthe classical artist in this respect is possessed of an aim that is\nat once resolute and definite. That is to say, the free form is with\nthe content itself defined through that content, and is essentially\npertinent to such content, so that the artist only appears to execute\nwhat is already accordant with the fundamental conception of what is\npresented him. While, therefore, the symbolic artist strives in his\nimagination, to suit the form to significance or _vice versa_, the\nclassic artist _adapts_ significance to plastic shape by means of the\nprocess of freeing the external phenomena which are already presented\nfrom that part of them which is merely an incidental product. In this\nactivity, however, although all that is purely his caprice is excluded,\nhis productive power not merely follows or is not merely limited to a\nbare type, but is at the same time _creative_ throughout the whole.\nArt which, to start with, is forced to seek out and discover its true\nform neglects for that reason the very aspect of form; but where, on\nthe contrary, the building up of form is made the essential interest\nand the main task there we find the content also receives its plastic\nshape by imperceptible degrees through the process of the reproduction,\nprecisely as we have hitherto found in a general way that form and\ncontent proceed hand in hand during the process, wherein they are\ncompleted. In this respect the classic artist elaborates the result\nalso where it is a religious world that is presented him; he throughout\ndevelops in the free and buoyant medium of his art the material and\nmythological ideas which he receives.\n\n(_c_) The same applies to the technique of art. In the case of the\nclassic artist the ingredients must be already to hand; the sensuous\nmaterial through which the artist labours must already be disengaged\nfrom all brittleness and extreme stubbornness, and yield directly to\nthe aims of the artist, in order that the content, conformably to\nthe notion of the classic type, may make its free and unfettered way\nthrough this external medium. To classical art, consequently, belongs\nfrom the first a high level of technical ability, which has subjected\nthe sensuous material to an apt subservience. Such a technical\nperfection, if it is really to carry out all that is required of Spirit\nand its conceptions, is presupposed by the complete elaboration of all\nthat pertains to craftsmanship in art, that is, in especial degree\nof that which makes itself visible within the plastic forms of the\nreligion to which we now refer. The religious view of things, such\nas the Egyptian, for example, discovers, that is, definite external\nforms, idols, colossal constructions whose type remains fixed, and,\nfurther, in the usual similarity of forms and shapes, supplies a\nconsiderable field for elaboration in the treatment of it by the\nsteadily progressive executive powers. This adaptability to the talents\nof the craftsman must already have been presented in that which is of\nan inferior and distorted type before the genius of classical beauty\ncan associate these powers of mechanical facility with the forms\nof technical perfection. Then, at last, when that which is purely\nmechanical work is confronted with no further insuperable difficulty,\nis art enabled to proceed in the elaboration of a form, the practice in\nworking out which is at the same time an elaboration which is in the\nclosest relationship to the progressive advance of both content and\nform.\n\nSo far as the _division_ of classical art is concerned it is usual\nin the more general sense of the term to call every complete work\nof art classic, whatever the particular character it may otherwise\ncarry, whether symbolic or romantic. We have no doubt thus accepted\nit in the particular sense of art perfection, but with this important\nqualification, that this perfection must be based on the thorough\ninterpenetration of ideal and free individuality and external\ndefinition. We consequently differentiate the classic form expressly\nfrom the symbolic and romantic, whose beauty in content and form is\nentirely of another kind. And along with the classic, regarded in its\nusual and more indefinite significance, we have as little to do here at\nthis early stage with the particular arts in which the classical ideal\nis represented, as, for example, sculpture, the Epic, definite forms\nof lyrical poetry and specific types of tragedy and comedy. These\nparticular types of art, although classic art is imprinted upon them,\nwill be first discussed in the third portion of the division of our\nsubject in the explication of the several arts and their grades[137].\nWhat we approach more immediately now is the classic in the sense we\nhave secured for the term, and as bases of our subdivision we can only\ntherefore seek out the grades of evolution, which proceed from this\nnotion of the classical ideal itself. The essential phases of this\ndevelopment are as follows.\n\nThe _first_ point to which we would direct our attention is this, that\nthe classical type of art is not to be apprehended as was the case with\nthe symbolic type as immediately primary, as art's _commencement_, but,\non the contrary, as its _result._ We have evolved it, consequently,\nin the first instance from the course of the symbolic modes of\nrepresentation, which it presupposes. The essential feature on which\nthis process turned was the concentration of content in the elucidation\nof an essentially self-conscious individuality, which can neither\nemploy for its expression the mere natural form, whether it be that of\nthe elements or animals, nor the defective and confused personification\nof the human figure with it, but receives its expression in the\nanimation of the human body permeated throughout with the breath of\nSpirit. Inasmuch, then, as the essence of freedom consists in this,\nto be that which it is through its own resources, that which in the\nfirst place appeared purely as the presupposition and condition of its\norigin outside the sphere of classical art must take its place within\nthe circle peculiar to the same in order to make really visible the\ntrue content and the genuine form by means of the subjection of what\nis unconformable to and the negation of the Ideal. This process of\nconformation through negation, this process by means of which, whether\nwe view it relatively to content or form, the genuine type of classical\nbeauty begets itself from its own substance is consequently our point\nof departure, and we shall treat of that in our _first_ chapter.\n\nIn the _second_ chapter, on the other hand, we have reached by means of\nthis process the true Ideal of the classical type of art. We find here\nas the central fact the fair and novel world of the gods of Greece,\nwhich it will be incumbent on us to develop exhaustively from within,\nboth in its aspects of spiritual individualization, and those which are\nrelated to the bodily form with which such individuality is immediately\nassociated.\n\nIn the _third_ place, however, the notion of classical art implies\nconversely, along with this becoming of the beauty which springs from\nitself, also the dissolution of that creation, which will carry us into\na further sphere, namely, that of the romantic type of art. The gods\nand human individuals of classic beauty just as they rise so, too, pass\naway once more from the art-consciousness, which in part turns round\nin opposition to the aspect of Nature that still persists, in which\nGreek art, in fact, had elaborated itself in the full perfection of\nbeauty, in part transcends an undeific[138], defective, and vulgar mode\nof reality in order to reveal that which is false and purely negative\ntherein. In this dissolution, whose artistic activity we shall take as\nthe material of our third chapter, the specific phases in the process,\nwhich created the truly classical type in that harmony presented by\nthe perfect fusion of immediate beauty, fall apart. The ideal essence\nis made explicit on the one side in its independence of the external\nmode of its existence on the other. Subjectivity withdraws into itself,\nfor the reason that it fails now to find an adequate realization in\nthe forms hitherto employed, and is constrained to enlarge itself with\nthe fuller content of a new spiritual world of absolute freedom and\ninfinity, looking about for novel means of expressing this profounder\ngrasp of its substance.\n\n[Footnote 121: The central point, that is, in the entire evolution of\nthe types of art, classical art being intermediate between symbolic and\nromantic art and in a certain sense marking a point of culmination.]\n\n[Footnote 122: _Zu ihrem Inneren_, _i. e._, that which unites it as a\nwhole rather than is the purely external form. The Inward of man is the\nnotion of man, not the mere fact that he has a head and arms, etc.]\n\n[Footnote 123: The \"Nature-existence,\" as Hegel calls it.]\n\n[Footnote 124: _Die Natur ist freilich heraus._ Nature is there\nexplicitly before us, but not all that is implied in Nature is made\nexplicit in the material world.]\n\n[Footnote 125: _Sinnlichkeitslos_, \"senseless\" as devoid of or\nabstracted from all sense.]\n\n[Footnote 126: _Auf ihr festes Maas zur\u00fcckgef\u00fchrt._ To their own proper\nstandard or measure that strictly applies to them.]\n\n[Footnote 127: I think this must be the meaning of _n\u00fctzlich_ here. But\nthe passage is not an easy one.]\n\n[Footnote 128: That is, the comparative type of art discussed at the\nconclusion of the preceding section.]\n\n[Footnote 129: That is, the Inward or ideal principle and the natural\nexternality.]\n\n[Footnote 130: _Selbstst\u00e4ndigkeit._ Self-consistency or independence\nare perhaps better words here.]\n\n[Footnote 131: That is, I suppose, the causal necessity as part of\nnatural evolution.]\n\n[Footnote 132: _Bis zur zeitlichen g\u00e4nzlichen \u00c4u\u00dferlichkeit._]\n\n[Footnote 133: These words contain no doubt the epitome of Hegel's\n\"Philosophy of Religion\" and are involved in its difficulties.\nThe reference to the historical facts of Christianity under ideal\nconceptions is obvious. I have translated the words _das Moment des\nNat\u00fcrlichen_ ... _zwar vorhanden seyn_ as a phasal moment of \"a\nprocess,\" but I am well aware that no mere amplification of this sort\ncan in itself make the words clear.]\n\n[Footnote 134: _Das Freie._]\n\n[Footnote 135: _Des besonnenen Menschen_, _i.e._, the man of clear\nintelligence, sound sense, as we say.]\n\n[Footnote 136: The words _dieser Gehalt ist selber nur der Erste_ would\nseem to refer back to the expressions _Keine Erste und somit nat\u00fcrliche\nEinheit._ But the sense is not very clear.]\n\n[Footnote 137: _Deren Gattungen,_ their specific types.]\n\n[Footnote 138: _Entg\u00f6ttert_--a mode from which the Divine is removed.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE COMING INTO BEING OF THE CLASSIC IDEAL\n\nIn the notion of free Spirit is contained immediately that aspect of\nthe process of intelligence we may describe as self-introspection,\nreturn upon the self, of being explicit as an object existing for the\nself and in a determinate place, although this penetration into the\nrealm of subjectivity, as we have already observed, does not either\nnecessarily proceed to the length of making the subject essentially\nself-substantive in its negative aspect as against all that is\nconcrete in Spirit and presented us as the stability of Nature, nor\nto that absolute reconciliation which constitutes, the freedom of the\ninfinite subjectivity in truth. With the freedom of Spirit, however, in\nwhatever form it may appear, is generally associated the elimination\nof that which is purely natural, regarded as that which is the Other\nin contrast to Spirit. Spirit must in the first instance essentially\nwithdraw itself from Nature, uplift itself over, her boundaries and\novercome them, ere it can prevail with unfettered movement within those\nbounds as within an element that is opposed to it, and can build itself\nup in a positive mode of existence truly indicative of its own freedom.\nIf we further ask for a closer definition of the object through the\ntranscendence of which Spirit attains to its self-substantive form\nin classical art we shall find this object is not Nature merely as\nsuch, but rather a Nature that is already throughout suffused with\nthe significations of Spirit, in other words the symbolic type of\nart, which made use of the immediately natural form as a means of\nexpressing the Absolute, its artistic consciousness either seeing in\nanimals and so forth the presence of gods, or striving vainly under\nfalse modes toward the true unity of the spiritual and the natural. It\nis through the removal and reformation of this defective association\nthat the Ideal for the first time presents itself as the Ideal, and\nis forced to develop consequently this process of transcendence within\nits own sphere as a phase of its own necessary evolution. Such a\nconsideration at once enables us to dispose of the question whether the\nGreeks received this religion from extraneous sources or no. We have\nalready seen that subordinate conceptions are necessarily presupposed\nin the very notion of classical art. These, in so far as they in truth\nappear and are presented as factors of human history, are, as opposed\nto the higher form, which strives to pass beyond them, the actual\nstarting-point of the new self-evolving art. And this is so, though\nin the particular case of Greek mythology there is not throughout\nhistorical evidence for these preliminary data. The relation, however,\nof the Greek spirit to these presupposed data is essentially a relation\nof construction and in the first instance of transformation. If this\nwere not so the conceptions and forms of the same had remained as they\nwere. It is true that Herodotus says, in a passage already cited, of\nHomer and Hesiod, that they had created their gods for the Greeks,\nbut he also speaks expressly of particular gods, how this or that\none was Egyptian or some other form: the poetic activity does not\ntherefore exclude the reception of material from other sources, but\nmerely suggests an essential transformation. For the Greeks possessed\nmythological conceptions before the time in which Herodotus places\nthose original poets.\n\nIf we inquire further into the more obvious aspects of this necessary\ntransformation of that which is undoubtedly involved with, but at first\nstill alien from, the Ideal, we find it set before us in na\u00efve form as\ncontent of mythology itself. The main fact of Greek theology is this,\nthat it creates itself and constitutes itself from that which has gone\nbefore, which takes its place in the origins and process of its own\ngeneric history. Incidental to this origination, in so far as the gods\nare taken to be spiritual individualities in determinate bodily shape,\nwe find, on the one hand, that Spirit, instead of giving visibility\nto its essence in that which is purely vital and animal, regards life\nrather as an attribute which is insufficient[139], as its unhappiness\nand death, and, on the other, that it is in the living thing that it\ntriumphs over the elements of Nature and its confused reproduction.\nConversely, however, it is equally necessary for the Ideal of the\nclassic gods, not merely to stand over against Nature and its elemental\npowers as individual spirit in its finite and abstract seclusion, but\nto possess itself the elements of the universal natural life notionally\nas a phasal moment in the vital constitution of Spirit. As the essence\nof the gods is essentially _universal_, and in this very universality\nthey are defined as individuals, it follows also that the aspect of\ntheir bodily presence must essentially include at the same time the\nnatural as the essential and wide-reaching power of Nature, and as\nvital activity intertwined with spirituality itself.\n\nIn this respect we may differentiate the process of embodiment followed\nby the classical art-form under the following points of view.\n\nThe _first_ concerns the degradation of that which is purely animal,\nand the removal of the same from the sphere of free and pure Beauty.\n\nThe _second_ more important aspect is related to the elemental itself,\nin the first instance conceived as gods put before us as powers of\nNature, through whose conquest alone the genuine race of gods can\nattain to undisputed mastery, that is in the war between the ancient\nand new gods. But this negative tendency becomes, then, in the _third_\nplace, after Spirit has secured its free right, to the same extent\nonce again an affirmative force, and elemental Nature constitutes an\naspect of godhead permeated with individualized spirituality in order\nto re-establish even the animal organism, though here only of an\nattributive and external sign. Following the above points of view we\nwill now, if still at no great length, endeavour to emphasize the more\ndefinite traits, which here come under consideration.\n\n\n1. THE DEGRADATION OF ANIMALISM[140]\n\nAmong the Indians and Egyptians, among Asiatics generally we find\nanimalism, or at any rate specific kinds of animals regarded as\nsacred and worshipped, because in them the Divine itself is taken\nto be visible to sense. The animal form is consequently also a main\nfeature of their artistic representations, albeit they are in addition\nmerely used as symbolic and in association with human forms, in the\nstage previous to that where we find the human, and only the human,\napprehended by consciousness as that which is alone true. It is only\nin virtue of the self-consciousness of the spiritual that the respect\nfor the obscure and gloomy ideality of animal life disappears. This\nhas already taken place among the ancient Hebrews who regard, as we\nhave already observed, the whole of Nature neither as symbol nor as the\npresence of God, and attach to external objects merely the powers and\nvitality which in fact dwell within them. At the same time there still\nremains even among them, if in accidental fashion, at least a vestige\nof reverence for the living thing as such. We may illustrate this with\nthe fact that Moses forbids the use of animal blood as food for the\nreason that life is centred in the blood. Man, however, is really under\na necessity to eat that which is his natural food. The next step which\nwe must draw attention to in this passage to classical art consists in\nlowering the high worth and position of what is animal, and making this\ndegradation itself the content of religious conceptions and artistic\nproductions. And illustrative of this we find abundant examples from\nwhich I shall merely offer the following selections.\n\n(_a_) We find that among the Greeks certain animals appear conspicuous\namong others, as the snake, for example, is presented us in the\nsacrifices of Homer as an exceptionally beloved genius[141], and before\nall others it is this species which is offered to one god, while\nothers are appropriated to some other. We find, further that the hare,\nwhich runs across the way, birds observed in their flight to right\nhand or left, and entrails are investigated as fruitful in prophetic\nsignificance. All this, it is true, indicates a real reverence for the\nanimal type, since the gods communicate through them and speak to men\nby means of omens. If we look at the heart of the matter, however,\nwe shall find these to be merely isolated revelations, suggestive of\nsuperstition no doubt, but merely momentary hints of the Divine. On\nthe other hand, it is an important fact that animals are sacrificed\nand the sacrificial flesh eaten. Among the Indians sacred animals are\non the contrary preserved alive as such, and taken care of, and among\nthe Egyptians they are even preserved after their death. For the Greek\nit is the sacrifice which is sacred. In the sacrifice man demonstrates\nthat he is willing to give up a consecrated thing to his gods, and to\ndeprive himself wholly of the use of the same. And in this connection\nwe may observe a characteristic trait in the Greek rite, among which\npeople the sacrifice was observed as at the same time a hospitable\nfeast[142], only a part of the same being dedicate to the gods, that\nis, the portion which it was assumed they alone could enjoy, while\nthe Greek himself retained and feasted upon the flesh. Out of this\ncircumstance originated a mythical tale in Greece. The ancient Greeks,\nit is said, sacrificed with the greatest solemnity to the gods, and\nsuffered the entirety of the sacrificial animal to be consumed in the\nflames. Not even the poorer suppliants dared contest this great waste.\nSo Prometheus endeavoured to obtain by request from Zeus, that they\nwere merely under an obligation to sacrifice a portion, and could\ndevote the remainder to their own uses. He slew two oxen, burnt the\nliver of both, converted, however, all the bones into one, the flesh\ninto the remaining hide of the animals, and presented Zeus the choice.\nZeus, deceived by appearances, selected the bones because they were a\nlarger portion and left the flesh in this way for human consumption.\nFor this reason, when the flesh of sacrificial animals was consumed,\nthe remaining portions, which were devoted to the gods, were burnt up\nin the same fire. Zeus, however, took away fire from men because by so\ndoing he made it impossible for them to celebrate their feast. Little\nhelp the ruse gave him. Prometheus robbed him of the fire and in the\nexcess of his joy flew back faster than he sped thither; for which\ncause, so the tale goes, the bringer of good news invariably brings\n\"speed\" with him. In this way the Greeks have directed attention to\nthis progress in human culture and preserved and reclothed the same in\nmyth for the mind.\n\n(_b_) We may connect with the above as a similar example of a yet\nfurther degradation of animalism the traditions of famous _huntings_,\nsuch as we find ascribed to heroes, and handed down as sacred to\ngrateful memory. In these the slaying of animals which appear as\ninjurious foes, such as the strangling of the Numean lion by Heracles,\nthe slaying of the Lernean hydra, the hunting of the Caledonian boar\nare set forth as something famous, by means of which the heroes\ncontended for godlike rank, whereas the Hindoos punished with death\nas a crime the slaughter of certain animals. Unquestionably there is\na further interplay of symbolism in deeds of this kind or they lie at\nthe base of them. In the case of Hercules there is the fact of the\nsun and its course, so that such heroic actions supply an essential\naspect of symbolical interpretation. These myths are, however, at the\nsame time accepted in their express significance as beneficial hunts\nand were consciously recognized as such by the Greeks. We must here\nagain in a similar relation recall certain fables of Aesop, especially\nthose already referred to of the dung beetle. The dung beetle, that\nprimitive Egyptian symbol, in whose balls of dung the Egyptians or the\ninterpreters of their religious conceptions saw the world balls, comes\nin Aesop again before Jupiter, and with the important change that the\neagle does not respect his protector the hare. Aristophanes, on the\nother hand, has wholly made fun of him.\n\n(_c_) _Thirdly_, the degradation of the animal is directly indicated\nin many of the tales of metamorphosis as Ovid has delineated them\nfor us in detail with grace and talent and fine traits of feeling\nand intuition, but also composed in a rambling way without their\ngreat and commanding ideal significance, treating them merely as the\nsport of mythos and external fact and failing to recognize a deeper\nsignificance. Such a deeper significance is, however, there, and we\nwill consequently, now we mention the subject, make further allusion to\nit. For the most part the particular narratives are if we look at this\nmaterial, quaint and primitive, not so much on account of the depraved\ncondition of the culture, but rather, as in the Nibelungenlied,\non account of the condition of a still raw nature. As far as the\nthirteenth book, according to their content, they are older than\nthe Homeric tales; add to this they are a medley of cosmogony and\nheterogeneous elements of Phoenician, Phrygian, Egyptian symbolism,\ntreated no doubt in a human way, but in such wise that the uncouth\nstock still remains, whereas the metamorphoses which enumerate tales of\na later period subsequent to the Trojan war, although their material is\nalso borrowed from fabulous times, clash awkwardly with the names of\nAjax and Aeneas.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Generally speaking, we may regard the metamorphoses as a contrast\nto the conception and worship implied in animalism. Looked at from\nthe ethical side of Spirit they include essentially the negative\nattitude toward Nature, making the animal and other inorganic forms a\nphase of human degradation. Consequently, if among the Egyptians the\ngods of Nature's elements are exalted and made vital in animals, here\nconversely, as we have already intimated, the natural form appears\nbefore us as an easier or difficult lapse and a monstrous crime, as the\nexistence of an ungod-like, unfortunate thing, and as the embodiment of\npain, in which the human is no longer able to remain self-contained.\nFor this reason they have not the significance of the migration of\nsouls in the Egyptian sense of that expression; this is a migration\nwhich does not imply guilt, but rather is on the contrary, if we take\nthe case of the passage of the human soul into the animal, regarded as\nan exaltation.\n\nAs a whole, however, this is no severely exclusive circle of myths,\nhowever different the objects of Nature may be, into which that which\nis spiritual is banished. A few examples will sufficiently elucidate\nthe point.\n\nAmong the Egyptians the wolf plays a part of great importance, as,\nfor example, in the case where Osiris appears as beneficent protector\nof his son Horus in the latter's conflict with Typhon, and in a whole\nseries of Egyptian coins is represented as the assister of Horus. And\nspeaking generally the association of the wolf and the sun-god is a\nprimitive one. In the \"Metamorphoses\" of Ovid, on the other hand,\nthe conversion of Lycaon into the form of a wolf is presented us as\na punishment for his impiety. After the subjugation of the giants,\nwe are told[143], and after the annihilation of their bodily shapes\nthe Earth, warmed by the blood of its sons which had been scattered\nin all directions, revitalized the warm blood, and, in order that no\nvestige of the former wild stock should remain, brought into being a\nrace of men. Yet for all that was this after-birth contemptuous of the\ngods, eager for savage deeds and murder. Then Jupiter called the gods\ninto conclave with a view to destroy this mortal race. He informed\nthem how Lycaon had cunningly formed stratagems against himself, the\nwielder of the lightning and their sovereign lord. When, such is\nthe story, the worthlessness of the times was apparent to him, he\ndescended from Olympus, and came to Arcadia. \"I furnished signs,\" the\nnarration continues, \"that a god had drawn nigh and the people began to\nsupplicate.\" First, to make merry over these pious prayers was Lycaon,\nwho forthwith cried out: \"I will make experiment whether this indeed\nbe a god or mortality, and the truth shall not remain in doubt.\" \"He\nmade preparation,\" continued Jupiter, \"to slay me when oppressed with\nslumber; he was possessed with the passion for discovering the truth.\nAnd not contented with this, he made an incision with his sword in the\nthroat of a goat of Molassian pedigree and boiled as to one part the\nonly partially dead members; and as to the rest baked them on the fire,\nand placed both portions before me to eat. Wherefore I, with avenging\nflame, have laid his homestead in ashes. Affrighted he fled forth from\nthence, and when he reached the silent field he broke forth: in howls\nand strove in vain to utter speech. With rage in his jaws and in the\neagerness of his animal lust for murder he turned against the cattle,\nand rejoices even now in their blood; his garments have become the\nhairy hide, and his arms have turned into thighs. He is a wolf, and\npreserves the signs of the primitive shape.\"\n\nThe tale of Procne, who was changed into a swallow, sets before us the\ngravity of the committed abomination with a like emphasis. When, so the\ntale runs[144], Procne begs of her husband, Tereus--she happened at the\ntime to stand in his favour--that he will, forthwith let her go to see\nher sister or suffer her sister to visit her, Tereus hastens to launch\nhis vessel on the sea and quickly reaches the harbour of Piraeus with\nhis seamanship. He, however, barely catches sight of Philomela before\nhe is violently enamoured of her. At his departure Pandion, the father,\nbinds him on oath to protect her with the love of a father, and to send\nback as soon as possible the alleviation of his old age. The voyage,\nhowever, is hardly over when the barbarous man deprives her--pale,\ntrembling, already fearful of the worst, and beseeching with tears to\nknow where her sister is--of liberty, and as twin-consort forces her\nto be his concubine along with her sister. Overcome with anger and\nthrusting all sense of shame on one side, Philomela threatens of her\nown accord to betray the deed. Tereus on this draws his sword, seizes\nand binds her and cuts off her tongue, informs, however, his wife by\nway of evasion of the death of her sister. Thereupon the sorrowing\nProcne tears off the fine linen from her shoulders and puts on mourning\napparel; she raises an empty tomb and in a mode somewhat out of place,\nas it happens, laments the lamentable fate of her sister. How then does\nPhilomela meet this? A prisoner, robbed of all speech, of her voice,\nshe bethinks her of craft. With threads of purple she works the news\nof the crime upon a white texture, and sends the raiment secretly to\nProcne. The wife reads the heartrending news of her sister; she neither\nspeaks nor weeps; she lives wholly in the image of revenge. It was the\ntime of the festival of Bacchus. Driven forth by the furies of her\npassionate grief she forces her way to her sister; she tears her from\nher chamber and carries her off with her away. Then in her own house,\nwhile she still is in doubt what terrible act of vengeance she shall\nexact on Tereus, Itys appears before his mother. She stares upon him\nwith eyes of wildness. How like he is to his father! No further word\nshe utters, but consummates at once the doleful deed. They slay the\nboy and serve him on his father's table, who partakes eagerly of his\nown flesh and blood. He then calls for his son, and Procne exclaims\nthat he carries within him that which he calls for; and, as he still\nlooks about him and seeks after him and again asks and calls for him,\nPhilomela sets before his face the bloody head. Then he breaks away\nfrom table with an awful cry of anguish, and weeps and calls himself\nhis son's sepulchre, and forthwith makes after the daughters of Pandion\nwith the naked steel. But now supplied with wings they float away from\nthence, the one into the forest, the other into the roof; and Tereus\nalso, despite all the energy of his sorrow and desire of revenge, is\nchanged into the bird which rears on its crest the comb of feathers,\nand carries a beak of immoderate projection. The name of the bird is\nthe hoopoe.\n\nOn the other hand, we have changes which proceed from a guilt of less\nsignificance. As examples, there is Cygnus who became a swan, and\nDaphne, the first love of Apollo[145], who was changed into the laurel,\nClyde into the heliotrope, Narcissus, who despised in his vanity\nmaidens, and sees himself in the watery mirror, and Biblis[146], who\nwas enamoured of her brother, and is, when he scorns her, changed into\nthe spring which even now bears her name and flows beneath the shading\noak.\n\nHowever, we must not lose ourselves in further digression through\nparticular examples, and I will merely, by way of passage, and the\none further reference to the change of the Pierides, who, according\nto Ovid[147], were the daughters of Pieros and challenged the Muses\nto a match of rivalry. For ourselves the distinction of importance\nis the nature of the songs which the combatants sang respectively.\nThe Pierides celebrate the battles of the gods[148] and honour the\ngiants unduly while they depreciate the deeds of the great gods.\nRising up from the depths of Earth, Typhoeus filled heaven with fear;\nin a body the gods take flight from thence until, wearied out, they\nrest on Egyptian soil. But here, too, so sang the Pierides, Typhoeus\narrives, and the high gods are fain to hide themselves in illusive\nshapes. Jupiter was leader of the army, and for this reason, so ran\ntheir refrain, the Lybian Ammon to this day is figured with crooked\nhorns; and in like manner the scion of Semele is changed into a ram,\nthe sister of Phoebus into a cat, Juno into a snow-white cow, Venus is\nconcealed in a fish, Mercury in the feathers of Ibis.\n\nHere we find therefore the gods suffer reproach in their change\nto animal form. Although their translation is not presented as a\npunishment for a wrong or a crime, it is their cowardice which is held\nforth to us as the reason of this self-imposed metamorphosis. Calliope,\non the other hand, exalts in song the good deeds and history of Ceres.\nCeres was the first, so ran the strain, to scour through the fields\nwith the crook-backed ploughshare; first was she to give fruits and\nfruitful means of nourishment to the ploughed fields. First was she to\nlay down laws for our guidance; we are collectively but a gift of her\nwisdom. \"Ah,\" she exclaims, \"my task is to celebrate her, and yet how\nshall I tune my strain worthy of such a goddess! Assuredly the goddess\nis worthy of the singer's best.\" When she has finished, the Pierides\nadjudge themselves victors in the contest: but even as they endeavour\nto speak, and with loud cries, so Ovid informs us (v. 670), are\nflourishing about with their hands, they perceive their nails passing\naway into feathers, their arms become covered with down, while each is\naware that the mouth of the other is closing up into the stiff bill\nof a bird: and while they are all for deploring their lot, they are\ncarried up on the waves of their wings, they float away, the screamers\nof the woods, and as waifs of the air. And even unto this day, adds\nour poet, they still retain their own glibness of tongue and excited\nchatter, and infinite desire to gossip. In this way we find again also\nhere that metamorphosis is presented us as punishment, and, what is\nmore, is presented, as is so frequently the case with such stories, as\npunishment due to religious impiety.\n\n(_\u03b2_) If we consider further examples of still well recognized\nmetamorphoses of men and gods into animals, we shall find that,\nalthough they do not directly imply any transgression as the cause\nof such a change, as, for example, in the case where Circe possessed\nthe power to change men into animals, yet, for all that, the animal\ncondition is at least indicative of a misfortune and a humiliation,\nsuch as brings no honour even to the person who makes such a change\nsubservient to private ends. Circe was quite a subordinate, obscure\ntype of goddess, and her power appears as mere witchery, and Mercury\nassists Odysseus, when the latter contrives to free his comrades from\nthe spell. Of much the same kind are the many shapes which Zeus takes\nupon himself, as, for example, when he is changed into a bull in his\nquest of Europa, or when he approaches Leda in the form of a swan, or\nfructifies the Danae in a shower of gold. In all these cases the object\nis one of deception, directed by purposes of an inferior, that is to\nsay, not spiritual, but purely natural quality, purposes which the\never constant jealousy of Juno render unavoidable. The conception of a\nuniversal procreative life of Nature, which in many of the more ancient\nmythologies constituted the leading motive, is imaginatively reproduced\nin separate poetical tales about the easily enamoured disposition of\nthe father of gods and men, exploits, however, which he does not carry\nthrough in his own or, for the most part, in human shape, but expressly\neither in the shape of animals, or some other embodiment of Nature.\n\n(_\u03b3_) And, lastly, we may add to our list those hybrid forms, combining\nboth humanity and animalism, which are also not excluded from Greek\nart, though the animality is here accepted as something that degrades,\nis unspiritual. Among the Egyptians, for example, the he-goat, Mendes,\nwas revered[149], and, according to the opinion of Jablouski[150], in\nthe sense of the procreative power of Nature, generally speaking, as\nthat of the sun, and to such an outrageous excess that, according to\nPindar, even women sacrificed themselves to these creatures. Among the\nGreeks, Pan, on the contrary, personifies the mysterious sense of the\ndivine presence, and later in the shape of fauns, satyrs, and Pan-like\nfigures, the goat shape only appeared in a subordinate way, such as\nin the feet, and in the most beautiful representations was perhaps\nlimited to the pointed ears and little horns. The rest of the figure\nis shaped in human guise, and the animal suggestion thrust back upon\nthe barest detail. Yet, for all that, fauns were not recognized among\nthe Greeks as gods of any important rank or spiritual forces; their\nfundamental characteristic remained that of a sensuous, uncontrolled\njoviality. It is true that they are also artistically represented with\nan expression of profounder significance, as, for instance, that fine\nexample of one in Munich, which holds the youthful Bacchus in his arms,\nand gazes down on him with a smile which is brimming over with love and\ntenderness. He is not to be taken as the father of Bacchus, but merely\nthe foster-parent, and we find given him here the beautiful feeling of\njoy in the innocence of the child, such as that which, in the maternal\ndevotion of Mary for the Christ babe, is exalted in romantic art to so\nlofty a level of contemplation. Among the Greeks, however, this most\ncharming love still belongs to the subordinate sphere of fauns in order\nto indicate that its origin is traceable from animal, that is natural,\nlife, and consequently is entitled to rank with such a sphere[151].\n\nMediate shapes of a similar kind are the centaurs, in which we may\nalso observe that the Nature-aspect of sensuality and desire is also\nsupremely prominent to the suppression of the spiritual side. Cheiron,\nno doubt, is of a more noble type, a clever physician, and the tutor of\nAchilles; but this instructive _r\u00f4le_, as the teacher of a child, is\nnot appropriate to godhead strictly, but is to be related with human\nability and cleverness.\n\nIn this manner the relation of the animal shape receives a modification\nin classical art from whatever point of view we regard it. Its\nprevailing employment is to indicate that which is evil, bad, inferior,\nmerely natural and unspiritual, whereas, outside Greece it was the\nexpression of the positive and absolute.\n\n\n2. THE CONTEST BETWEEN THE ANCIENT AND MODERN DIVINITIES\n\nThe second grade of more elevated rank we may contrast with the\ndegradation of the animal condition consists in this, that the genuine\ngods of classical art, inasmuch as they possess for their content a\nfree self-consciousness, which we may define as the power of spiritual\nindividuality reposing on its own resources, are also able to be\nrepresented as subjects of knowledge and volition, that is as spiritual\npotences. For this reason the _humanity_, in the bodily form of which\nthey are presented us, is not, as one may say, a mere form, which is\ngirt about this content by virtue of the imagination under a mode of\npurely external validity, but is rooted in the significance, content,\nand ideal substance itself. The divine, however, generally speaking, is\nessentially to be apprehended us unity of the natural and spiritual;\nboth sides are involved in the conception of the Absolute; and it is\nmerely the different mode, under which this harmony is conceived, which\nconstitutes from our present point of view the respective grades of\nthe various forms of art and historic religions. According to our own\nChristian way of looking at it, God is the creator and lord of Nature\nand the spiritual world, and therewith, no doubt, exempted from the\nimmediate and determinate existence of Nature, for the reason that,\nbefore all else, he is very God as the taking back into Himself of his\nown fulness, that is as absolute and self-dependent Spirit; it is only\nthe finite and human spirit which stands in opposition to Nature as\na limit and a bound, a limitation which such only thereby overcomes\nin his determinate existence, and exalts himself intrinsically to\nthe grade of infinity in so far as he grasps Nature contemplatively\nin thought, and in the actual world[152] consummates the harmony\nbetween spiritual idea, reason, the Good and Nature. This infinite\nactualization is, however, God, in so far as the lordship over Nature\nis strictly due to Him, and He Himself is conceived as explicit in this\ninfinite activity, and the knowledge and volition of such realization.\n\nIn the religions of strictly symbolic art, on the contrary, as we\nhave traced already, the union of the Inward and Ideal with Nature\nwas an immediate association, which consequently made use of Nature\nboth as regards its substance and form as its fundamental mode of\ndetermination. In this sense the sun, the Nile, the sea, the Earth,\nthe natural processes of birth, death, procreation, and reproduction,\nin short, all the varied changes of the universal life of Nature were\nrevered as divine existence and life. These Nature-forces, however,\nwere even in symbolic art personified, and consequently set up in\ncontrast to the spiritual. If, however, and nothing less than this\nis the requirement of classical art, the gods are to be spiritual\nindividualities in harmony with Nature, mere personification is a\nconception insufficient for this result. For personification, in\nthe case that its content is a purely universal force and activity\nof Nature, persists as a mere form, unable to penetrate to the\nconstituting substance, and can neither give existence to the spiritual\ncontent in the same, nor its individuality. We find therefore\nnecessarily in classical art a change of front[153], to the effect\nthat, in conformity with the degradation of the animal aspect we have\njust been considering, the universal power of Nature also in one aspect\nof it suffers humiliation, and the spiritual is proportionally exalted\nin contrast to it. And by this means we find that it is the principle\nof _subjectivity_, rather than mere personification, which becomes\nthe main mode of definition. From another point of view, however,\nthe gods of classical art do not cease to be potences of Nature,\nbecause God here has not yet come to be represented as essentially\nabsolute and free spirituality. In the relation of a merely created\nand ministrant creature to a lord and creator separated from it,\nNature stands, however, albeit deified, either as we have it in the\nart of the Sublime--conceived as an essentially abstract, that is\npurely ideal masterdom of one supreme substance, or--as in the case of\nChristianity--exalted as concrete Spirit to absolute freedom within the\npure element of spiritual existence and personal actuality. Neither of\nthese examples falls in with the point of view of classical art. God\nhere is not as _yet_ lord of Nature, for the reason that he does not\nas yet possess absolute spirituality either if regarded relatively to\nwhat is contained in Him, or to the mode under which He is apprehended.\nHe is no longer lord of Nature, because the sublime relation of the\ndeified natural thing and human individuality has ceased, and taken\nupon itself the limitations of beauty, in which their just due must\nbe rendered for art's representation without any tittle of loss to\nboth aspects, the universal and the individual, the spiritual and the\nnatural. Consequently in the god of classical art the nature-potency is\npreserved, but is conceived as such not in the sense of the universal\nand all-embracing Nature, but as the definable, and consequently\nlimited activity of the sun, sea, and so on, generally speaking, as\na particular natural potency, which is made visible as spiritual\nindividuality, and possesses this spiritual individuality as its\nessential being.\n\nFor the reason, then, as we have already made clear, that the classical\nIdeal is not immediately present, but first makes its appearance\nthrough the process in which that which is negative to the formative\ncontent of spirit is resolved, this transformation and building up\ninto new forms of that which is raw, unbeautiful, wild, grotesque,\npurely natural, or fantastic, which originated in earlier religious\nconceptions and views of art, will be a leading interest in Greek\nmythology, and consequently will necessarily reproduce a readily\ndefined sphere[154] of particular significances.\n\nIn proceeding further to examine this fundamental aspect of our present\nsubject I must at once give utterance to the preliminary caution that\nthe historic investigation of the varied and multifold conceptions of\nGreek mythology lies outside our present task. All we are concerned to\ninquire into here are the essential phasal steps of this process of\nreconstruction, in so far as the same notify themselves as phases of\nuniversal import in the new artistic configuration and its content.\nAs for that infinite mass of particular myths, narrations, histories,\nthings referable to a local origin and symbolism, which collectively\nstill assert their predominance in the world of later gods, and\nincidentally appear in artistic production, but for all that do not\nbelong to the vital point of interest to which our own effort is\ndirected--we must necessarily leave all this broad field of material\non one side, and can merely refer to an example or two by way of\nillustration. Speaking generally we may compare this road, on which\nwe now move forwards, to the course of the history of sculpture. For\ninasmuch as sculpture places before the observation of sense the gods\nin their real form it constitutes the peculiar _centrum_ of classical\nart, albeit also the better to make it wholly understood poetry\nexpresses itself upon gods and mankind, or passes in review the worlds\nof gods and men in their activity and movement in direct contrast to\nthat objectivity self-contained in repose. Just as, then, in sculpture\nthe moment of all importance in the beginning is the transformation of\nthe formless, the stone or block of wood that has fallen from heaven\n(\u03b4\u03b9o\u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u1f74\u03c2)--as the the great goddess of Pessinus in Asia Minor actually\nwas, which the Romans directed by means of a solemn embassy to be\ntransferred to Rome--into the human form and so makes the statue, so\ntoo we have here to make a beginning from the formless, uncouth powers\nof Nature, and while doing so merely to indicate the stages, in their\npassage through which they are exalted into spiritual individuality and\nare finally concentrated in shapes of fixity.\n\nWe may in this connection distinguish three separable aspects as of\nmost importance.\n\nThe _first_, which arrests our attention, are the _oracles_ in which\nthe knowledge and volition of gods, still under a formless mode, gives\nwitness to their presence through natural existences.\n\nThe _second_ point of view to be noted is concerned with the universal\nforms of Nature, no less than the abstractions of Right and so forth,\nwhich lie at the root of the genuine spiritual and individual deities,\nwhich are, so to speak, their birth-cradles and furnish us with the\nnecessary conditions of their origin and activity: they are the old\ngods in contradistinction to the new.\n\n_Thirdly_, and finally, we are made aware of the essentially necessary\nprogress to the Ideal in the fact that the primarily superficial\npersonifications of the activities of Nature and the most abstract\nspiritual conditions are contested and thrust from their prominence\nas something essentially subordinate and negative and, by virtue of\nthis debasement the self-sufficient spiritual individuality and its\nhuman form and action, is suffered to attain an unchallenged masterdom.\nThis revolution, which constitutes the real central position in the\nhistorical origins of the classic gods, is in Greek mythology placed\nbefore our imagination in the conflict--a mode of presentation as na\u00efve\nas it is astonishingly direct--between the old and new gods, in the\nheadlong fall of the Titans, and in the victory which the divine race\nof Zeus secures.\n\n(_a_) To take, then, first in order the _oracles_, it will not be\nnecessary for us now to dilate on them to any considerable extent. The\nessential point which concerns us here is merely due to this fact,\nthat in classical art the phenomena of Nature are no longer revered\nas such--in the way that the Parsees, for example, pray to naphthetic\nregions or fire, or as among the Egyptians, gods remain inscrutable,\nmysterious, and mute riddles--but that the gods, being themselves\nsubjects of knowledge and volition, do verily give to man by means\nof natural phenomena indications of their wisdom. In this sense the\nancient Hellenes made inquiry at the oracle of Dodona[155], whether\nthey should accept the names of gods, which have come to them from\nbarbarians, and the oracle replied: \"Use them.\"\n\n(_\u03b1_) The signs by means of which the gods thus made their revelations\nare for the most part of the simplest description. At Dodona such\nwere the rustle and whisper of the sacred oak, the murmur of the\nspring, the tones of the brazen vessel, which the wind made thus to\nreverberate. In like manner at Delos it was the laurel which rustled\nand at Delphi, too, the sound of the wind on the brazen tripod was full\nof significance[156]. Over and above, however, such immediately natural\nsounds man is also the voice-piece of the oracle in so far as he is\nrendered deaf to and whirled away from the alert commonsense of his\nordinary mind to a natural condition of enthusiasm; as, for example,\nthe Pythia at Delphi was wont, stupefied by exhalations, to deliver\nthe oracular words, or in the cave of Trophonius the inquirer of the\noracle met with faces, from the interpretation of which an answer was\ndelivered him.\n\n(_\u03b2_) There is, however, another aspect which we should set alongside\nof the purely external sign. For in the oracles God is, it is true,\naccepted as He who _knows_, and the oracle of most famed repute is\ndedicate to Apollo, the god of wisdom. The form, however, in which he\nreveals his will, remains the wholly indefinite voice of Nature, either\na natural sound, that is, or the unconnected tones of words. In this\nobscurity of form the spiritual content is itself equally obscure and\nrequires _interpretation_ and explanation.\n\n(_\u03b3_) This explanation, albeit it brings under a mode of spiritual life\nthe deliverance of the god which in the first instance is presented\npurely in the form of Nature's own voice, remains despite this fact\nobscure and equivocal. For the god is in his knowledge and volition\nconcrete universality. And of the same type also must the advice or\ncommand unavoidably be which the oracle declares. The universal,\nhowever, is not one-sided and abstract, but as concrete universal\ncontains the one side no less than the other. Inasmuch, then, as\nman stands over against the knowing god as one unknowing he accepts\nthe oracular word itself in ignorance. In other words, the concrete\nuniversality of the same is not open to his intelligence, and he can\nmerely select from the equivocal word of the god, assuming that he\ndecides to act upon it, _one_ aspect thereof, for the reason that\nevery action under particular circumstances is unavoidably _definite_,\nonly, that is to say, giving a decisive impulse in _one_ direction\nand shutting off another. His action is barely accomplished, and the\ndeed--which consequently has become his own and for which he must\nnow be answerable--really carried through when he finds a collision\nconfronting him. All in a moment he is aware that the other side, which\nlay already folded in the oracular sentence, is turned against himself\nand the fatality of his deed, his knowledge and will notwithstanding,\nhas him in the toils; a fatality which he may not know, but of which\nwe must suppose the gods are aware. Conversely again the gods are\ndeterminate potencies and their expressed will, when it carries this\ncharacter of essential determinacy, as, for example, the bidding of\nApollo, which drives Orestes forward to his revenge, brings about a\ncollision of forces in the selfsame way. For the reason, then, that in\none aspect of it the form, which the spiritual knowledge of the god\nassumes in the oracle, is the wholly undefined external expression\nor the abstract ideality of the word, and the form itself through\nthe equivocal sense it contains includes the possibility of discord,\nwe find that in classical art it is not sculpture, but poetry, and\npre-eminently dramatic poetry, in which oracles contribute their share\nof the content and are of importance. In _classical_ art, however, they\ndo essentially maintain a place, because in it human individuality has\nnot forced its way to the full height of spiritual attainment, where\nthe subject draws the determination of his actions without infringement\nfrom his own resources. What we in our modern sense of the term call\nconscience, has not as here secured its rightful place. The Greek acts\noften, it is true, at the beck of his passion, bad no less than good;\nthe genuine pathos, however, which is here held to quicken him, and\ndoes in fact so quicken him, proceeds from the gods, whose content\nand might is the universal of such a pathos; and the heroes are either\nimmediately instinct with the same, or they interrogate oracles for\nadvice, when the gods do not present themselves openly to their vision,\nby way of quickening the deed to be done.\n\n(_b_) Moreover, as in the oracle the _content_ is to be found in\nthe gods that _know_ and _willy_ while the form of the external\nphenomenon is the external which is abstract and a part of _Nature_,\nfrom the other point of view that which is _natural_, if we look at\nit relatively to its universal forces and the activities which belong\nto these, becomes the _content_, from out of which the independent\nindividuality has first to force its way up, and receives as its\noriginal form merely the formal and superficial personification. The\nthrusting back of these purely natural forces, the opposition and\ncontention through which they are overcome is just the significant\ncentre, for which we are indebted primarily to classical art, and which\nwe must consequently submit to a closer examination.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The first thing we would remark in this connection is\nattributable to the circumstance that we are not here concerned--as in\nthat view of the world which belongs to the Sublime, or in part even\nthat appropriate to Hindoo doctrines--with God already essentially\ndevoid of any relation to sense, when regarded as the starting point of\nall creation, but rather with that in which Nature's gods, and we may\nadd in the first instance the more universal forces of Nature such as\nChaos, Tartarus, Erebus, the entire savage and subterranean substance,\nand, furthermore, Uranos, Gaia, the Titan Eros, Kronos, and the rest,\nsupply the beginning[157]. It is from out of these, then, that the\nbetter defined powers, such as Helios, Oceanos, and others like them\nfirst have their being; while they, in their turn, become the natural\ncradle for the later spiritual and individualized divinities. We find,\ntherefore, again here another theogony and cosmogony which is the work\nof the imagination, whose earliest gods, however, still remain for the\nobserver under one aspect of an undefined character, or vaguely extend\nbeyond all reasonable limit; and, if viewed from another standpoint,\nstill carry with them much that is essentially symbolical.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The more detailed distinctions among these Titan potencies may be\nthus indicated:\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) First, we have those powers of the Earth and the stars, without\nspiritual and ethical content, consequently dissolute, a raw, savage\nrace, gigantic and formless, as though they were scions of Hindoo or\nEgyptian imagination. They are to be classed with other individualities\nof Nature such as Brontes, Steropes, and again with the hundred-handed\nKottos, Briareus, and Gyges, the giants and the rest standing in the\nfirst instance beneath the lordship of Uranos, then of Kronos, that\nchief of the Titans, who obviously is a kind of personified _Time_,\ndevouring all his children, just as Time eventually annihilates\neverything that it has brought to birth. This myth is not without a\nsymbolical significance. For the life of Nature is, in fact, subjugate\nto Time, and brings only the Past into existence, just as in the same\nway the prehistoric times of some people, which is only one nation,\none stock, yet constitutes no genuine State, and pursues no definite\nobjects essentially made clear to itself, becomes the sport of the\npower of a Time, which is destitute of history. We touch solid ground\nfor the first time when we come to law, morality, and the State,\nsomething permanent which remains though races pass away, as it is said\nthat the Muses give permanence and a defence to everything, which, as\nthe life of Nature and present action, had only vanished swept away\nwith Time.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) But, further, it is not only that the forces of Nature belong\nto this sphere of the old gods, but also the forces noted as earliest\nover the elements. In particular the first active agency upon metal\nthrough the force of what is still raw, and elementary Nature, that\nis air, water, fire, is of importance. We may mention in illustration\nthe Corybantes, the Telchines, demons of both beneficent and evil\ninfluence, the Pataeci, pygmies, dwarfs, cunning in the woodman's\ncraft, small, with big paunches.[158]\n\nMore prominent notice should be taken of Prometheus, as illustrating\nin the chief place a fundamental point of new departure. Prometheus\nis a Titan of exceptional type and deserves exceptional attention.\nTogether with his brother Epimetheus he appears in the first instance\nas favourable to the young gods; then he stands out as the benefactor\nof men, who in other respects have no defined relation with the new\ngods or the Titans. He brings fire to man, and thereby supplies them\nwith the means of satisfying their needs and working the technical\narts, which are no longer, however, regarded as natural products, and\nconsequently it would appear do not stand in any closer association\nwith Titan workmanship. For this interference Zeus punishes Prometheus\nuntil Hercules finally releases him from suffering. At the first\nglance there would appear to be nothing strictly Titanesque in these\nmain features of the story; nay, it would not be difficult to point\nout an inconsequence in the fact that Prometheus, just as Ceres, is\na benefactor of mankind, and is none the less numbered among the old\nTitanic potencies. If we look at the matter more closely, however,\nthis inconsequence will at once disappear. In this connection several\npassages from Plato's works will help us sufficiently to clear the\ndifficulty. There is the myth in which the guest-friend recites to\nthe younger Socrates that in the time of Kronos men originated from\nthe Earth, while the god, on his part, devoted his attention to the\nwhole[159]. After this step a movement of opposite tendency sprang up,\nand the Earth was left to itself[160], so that now the beasts became\nsavage, and mankind, whose means of nourishment and all their other\nneeds had hitherto passed immediately into their hands, were left alone\nwithout advice or assistance. Well, according to this myth, it was in\nsuch a condition[161] that fire was brought to mankind by Prometheus,\nall other accessories of craftsmanship being communicated by Hephaestos\nand his companion in craftsmanship, Athene.\n\nHere we have notified expressly a distinction between fire and the\nthing which artistic ability produces by working on the raw material;\nand only the gift of fire is ascribed to Prometheus. Plato narrates\nthe myth of Prometheus at greater length in the \"Protagoras.\" There we\nread[162]: \"There was once a time when gods indeed existed, but mortal\nbeings had not appeared. When the foreordained time of their birth\nalso had come, the gods created them in the inward parts of the Earth,\ncomposing their substance of Earth and fire and that which is the union\nof both these elements. When the gods were desirous of bringing them\ninto the light, they handed them over to Prometheus and Epimetheus\nto apportion and arrange the energies of each singly as was right.\nEpimetheus, however, requested of Prometheus that the apportionment\nmight be left to him. After I have done this, quoth he, you may mark\nand express an opinion. Epimetheus, however, by a blunder apportioned\neverything worth having to the animal world, so that there was nothing\nleft over for mankind; and when Prometheus made his inspection he found\nthat though all other living things were wisely provided with all their\nneeds mankind remained naked, unprotected, without covering or weapons.\nBut already the appointed day had appeared in which it was necessary\nthat man should pass from the bowels of the Earth into the light. In\nthe embarrassment in which he was placed to procure some assistance\nfor mankind Prometheus stole the wisdom that is shared by Hephaestos\nand Athene by taking fire--for without fire it would be impossible to\npossess it or make it of use--and made a present of this to men. Man\nnow, it is true, possessed the wisdom necessary for the support of his\nlife, but he was still _without political wisdom_, for this was still\nlodged with Zeus. Entry, however, to the stronghold of Zeus was no\nlonger permitted Prometheus, and apart from this the awful watchers\nof Zeus barred the way. He passed, however, secretly into the chamber\nwhich Hephaestos and Athene shared in the practice of their art, and\nhaving secured the forging-art of Hephaestos he pilfered that other art\n(the art of weaving) which was possessed by Athene and presented this\nto mankind. Out of these possessions the means of satisfying the needs\nof Life is provided for man (\u1f10\u03c5\u03c0o\u03c1\u03af\u03b1 \u03c4o\u1fe6 \u03b2\u03afo\u03c5).\" Prometheus receives,\nhowever, as already narrated, punishment for the thefts he commits\nowing to the blunders of Epimetheus.\n\nPlato further tells us in a passage which immediately follows the\nabove that mankind was still destitute of the art of war for their\nprotection against the animal world, which was merely a part of the\nart of politics, and consequently were collected into cities, and would\nhave so outraged each other and finally broken up such asylums for the\nreason that they were without all political organization, that Zeus\nfound it necessary to send down to them under the escort of Hermes\nShame and Right.\n\nIn these passages the distinction between the immediate objects of\nlife, which are related to physical comfort, that is, the provision\nfor the satisfaction of the most primary necessaries and political\norganization, such as sets before itself as its object what is\nspiritual, custom, law, right of property, freedom, and communal\nexistence is expressly emphasized. This principle of ethical life and\nright[163], Prometheus did not give to men, he merely taught them the\ncunning by means of which they might overcome natural objects and make\nthem serviceable to their needs. Fire and the craftsmanship which makes\nuse of fire have nothing ethical about them in themselves; and it is\njust the same with the art of weaving; in the first instance they are\ndevoted to the exclusive service of private individuals, without coming\ninto any relation with that which is shared in human existence or with\nLife in its public character. For the reason, then, that Prometheus was\nunable to furnish mankind with anything more spiritual or ethical, he\nalso does not belong to the race of new gods, but to the Titans[164].\nHephaestos, it is true, also possessed fire and the particular crafts\nto which it is essential as an instrument for his field of activity,\nand is none the less accredited as a new god: but Zeus cast him from\nOlympus, and he continued to limp ever after. Just as little is it,\ntherefore, an inconsequence when we find Ceres placed among the younger\ngods, who proved herself a benefactor of mankind just as Prometheus\ndid. For that which Ceres taught was agriculture, with which at the\nsame time property, and yet more, marriage, social custom, and law\nstand in close association.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) A third class of the ancient gods contains, it is true, neither\npersonified potencies of Nature, as such, nor the might which next\nfollows as lord over the particular elements of Nature in the service\nof the more subordinate human necessities, but is already contestant\nwith that which is essentially in itself ideal, universal, and\nspiritual. What, however, is none the less lacking in the powers we\nhave here to reckon with is spiritual individuality and its appropriate\nform and manifestation, so that they also more or less relatively to\ntheir operations keep a position which is more nearly akin to the\nnecessity and essential being of Nature. In illustration of this type\nwe may recall the conception of Nemesis, Dike, the Erinnyes, Eumenides,\nand Moirai. No doubt we find associated with these figures the\ndeterminate notions of right and justice; but this inevitable right,\ninstead of being conceived and clothed in the essentially spiritual and\nsubstantive medium of social morality[165], remains either persistent\nin the universal abstract notion, or is related to the obscure right of\nthat which is natural within the circle of spiritual connections, the\nlove of kindred, for example, and its paramount claim, which does not\nappertain to Spirit in the open freedom of itself self-recognized; and\nconsequently also does not appear as lawful right, but in opposition to\nthis as the irreconcilable right of revenge.\n\nTo bring the view of the above nearer I will merely draw attention to\none or two ideas bound up with it. Nemesis, for example, is the might\nto humiliate the exalted, and to cast down the man all too fortunate\nfrom his lofty seat, and consequently to restore equilibrium. The\nclaim or right of equilibrium is the purely abstract and external\nright, which, it is true, certifies itself as operative in the range of\nspiritual circumstances, and conditions, without, however, making the\nethical organization of the same the content of justice. Another aspect\nof importance attaches to this circumstance, that the right of the\nfamily-condition is apportioned by the ancient gods, in so far as these\nrepose on a condition of Nature, and thereby are in antagonism with the\npublic right and law of the community. We may adduce the Eumenides\nof Aeschylus as the clearest illustration of this point. The direful\nmaidens pursue Orestes on account of the murder of his mother, a murder\nwhich Apollo, the younger god, had directed, in order that Agamemnon,\nthe slaughtered spouse and king, should not remain unavenged. The\nentire drama consequently is concentrated in a conflict between these\ndivine Powers, which confront each other in person. On the one side\nwe have the goddesses of revenge, the Eumenides; but they are called\nhere the beneficent, and our ordinary conception of the Furies, into\nwhich we convert them, is set before us as rude and uncouth. For they\npossess an essential right thus to persecute, and are therefore not\nmerely hateful, wild, and ferocious in the torments which they impose.\nThe right, however, which they enforce as against Orestes is only the\nfamily-right in so far as this is rooted in the blood relation. The\nprofoundest association of son and mother is the substantive fact\nwhich they represent. Apollo opposes to this natural ethical relation,\nrooted as it is already both on the physical side and in feeling, the\nright of the spouse and the chieftain who has been violated in respect\nto the highest right he can claim. This distinction is in the first\ninstance brought to our notice in an external way since both parties\nare champions for morality within one and the same sphere, namely\nthe family. The sterling[166] imagination of Aeschylus has, however,\nhere--and we cannot sufficiently value it on this score--discovered for\nus a contradiction, which is not by any means a superficial one, but\nof fundamental significance. That is to say, the relation of children\nto parents reposes on the unity of the natural nexus; the association\nof man and wife on the contrary must be accepted as marriage, which\ndoes not merely proceed from purely natural love, that is from\nthe blood or natural affinity, but originates out of a conscious\ninclination, and for this reason belongs to the free ethical sphere of\nthe self-conscious will. However much, therefore, marriage is bound\nup with love and feeling it is none the less to be distinguished from\nthe purely natural emotion of love, because it also freely recognizes\ndefinite obligations quite independent of the same, which persist when\nthat feeling of love may have ceased. The notion, in short, and the\nknowledge of the substantiality of marital life is something later\nand more profound than the purely natural connection between mother\nand son, and constitutes the beginning of the State as the realization\nof the free and rational will. In like manner we shall find resident\nin the relation of prince to citizen the association of a similar\npolitical right, law, and the self-conscious freedom and spirituality\nof similar social aims. This is the reason why the Eumenides, the\nancient goddesses, pursue Orestes with punishment, whereas Apollo--the\nclear, knowing and self-consciously knowing ethical sense--defends the\nright of the spouse and the chief, justly opposing the Eumenides: \"If\nthe crime of Clytemnestra were not scented out I should be in verity\nwithout honour and despised as nought by the consummator Here and the\nCouncils of Zeus[167].\"\n\nOf still greater interest, albeit wholly involved in human feeling\nand action, is the contradiction which we have set before us in\nthe \"Antigone,\" one of the most sublime, and in every respect most\nconsummate work of art human effort ever produced. Not a detail in\nthis tragedy but is of consequence. The public law of the State and\nthe instinctive family-love and duty towards a brother are here set\nin conflict. Antigone, the woman, is pathetically possessed by the\ninterest of family; Kreon, the man, by the welfare of the community.\nPolynices, in war with his own father-city, had fallen before the\ngates of Thebes, and Kreon, the lord thereof, had by means of a public\nproclamation threatened everyone with death who should give this enemy\nof the city the right of burial. Antigone, however, refused to accept\nthis command, which merely concerned the public weal, and, constrained\nby her pious devotion for her brother, carried out as sister the sacred\nduty of interment. In doing this she relied on the law of the gods.\nThe gods, however, whom she thus revered, are the _Dei inferi_ of\nHades[168], the instinctive Powers of feeling, Love and kinship, not\nthe daylight gods of free and self-conscious, social, and political\nlife.\n\n(_\u03b3_) The _third_ point, which we would advert to in connection with\nthe theogony of the outlook of artists in the classic period, has\nreference to the difference between individuals of the older gods\nrelatively to their powers and the duration of their authority.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In the first place, the origin of these gods is a succession.\nFrom Chaos, according to Hesiod, proceeds Gaia, Uranos, and others,\nafter that Kronos and his race, finally Zeus and his subjects. This\nsuccession appears in one aspect of it as a rise from the more abstract\nand formless to the more concrete and already fairly defined powers\nof Nature; in another as the beginnings of the superiority of the\nspiritual over the natural. Thus in his \"Eumenides\" Aeschylus makes the\nPythia in the temple of Delphi begin with the words: \"First of all I\nrevere in my prayer her who first gave us oracles, Gaia, and after her\nThemis, who as second after her mother had her prophetic seat in this\nplace.\" Pausanias, on the other hand, who also names the Earth first as\ngiver of oracles, says that Daphne was ordained by her afterwards in\nthe prophetic office. In another series again Pindar places Night in\nthe first place, after her he makes Themis follow, then comes Phoebe,\nand finally he closes the succession with Phoebus. It would be of\ninterest to analyse more closely these particular differences; such an\ninquiry, however, lies outside our present purpose.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) This succession further, in addition to its aspect of being\nan extension into essentially profounder conceptions of godhead,\npossessing, that is, a fuller content, also appears as the degradation\nof the earlier and more abstract type within the range of the older\nrace of gods itself. The primary and most ancient powers are robbed of\ntheir masterdom, just as we find Kronos dethroned Uranos, and the later\nrepresentatives are set up in their place.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In this way the negative relation of the reformation[169],\nwhich we settled at once to be the essence of this first stage of the\nclassic type of art, becomes the proper centre of the same. And it is\nso for the reason that personification is here the universal form, in\nwhich the gods are presented to the imagination, and the progressive\nmovement comes into opposition with human and spiritual individuality.\nAnd although this appears in the first instance still in a form\nindeterminate and formless, we necessarily find that the imagination\npresents this negative attitude of the younger gods against the more\nancient under the image of conflict and war. The essential advance is,\nhowever, from Nature to Spirit, implying by the latter the true content\nand the real form appropriate to classical art. This progress and the\nconflicts by means of which we perceive that it is carried forward,\nbelong no longer exclusively to the sphere of the old gods, but centre\nin the war through which the new gods lay the foundation of their\nenduring mastery over the ancient.\n\n(_c_) The opposition between Nature and Spirit is in the nature of the\ncase inevitable. For the notion of Spirit, as in very truth totality,\nis, as we have already seen, _essentially_ simply this, to split itself\nin twain, that is into its intrinsic constituents as objectivity and as\nsubject, in order that by means of this opposition it may emerge from\nNature and confront the same forthwith free and jubilant as vanquisher\nand superior might. This fundamental phase, rooted in the very essence\nof Spirit, is consequently a material aspect in the conception which\nit supplies to itself of that nature. Regarded historically, that is\non the plane of ordinary reality, this passage asserts itself as the\nreconstruction through progressive steps of the natural man into the\ncondition where right, property, laws, constitution and political life\nare paramount. Regarded under a mode which relates this process to gods\nand _sub specie eternitatis_ it becomes the conception of the victory\nover the natural Powers by means of the spiritual and individual\nDivinities.\n\n(_\u03b1_) This contest exposes an absolute catastrophe, and is the\nessential deed of the gods, by virtue of which the fundamental\ndistinction between the old and new gods is first made visible.\nConsequently we ought not to point to the war, which exposes this\ndistinction as a mythical story in the same way we should point to any\nother myth; rather we should regard it as the mythos, which in fact\npunctuates a great moment of transition, and expresses the creation of\nthe later theogony.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The result of this violent strife among the gods is the ruin of\nthe Titans, the unique victory of the new gods, who forthwith receive\nin their assured dominion a plenitude of gifts in every direction from\nthe imagination. The Titans, on the other hand, are banished, and\ncompelled to huddle in the hollows of the Earth, or, like Oceanos,\ndally on the dark skirts of the clear, joyful world, or still endure\nmany grievous punishments. Prometheus, for example, is fettered on\nthe Scythian mountains, where an eagle insatiable devours the liver\nthat ever renews itself. In like manner an infinite and inexhaustible\nthirst torments Tantalus in the lower world, and Sisyphus is for ever\nconstrained to roll up hill in vain the rock that for ever rolls back\nagain. These punishments are, in truth, the false type of infinity,\nthe yearning of the indefinite aspiration or the unsatisfied craving\nof natural desires, which in their eternal repetition fail to discover\nrest or final satisfaction. For the truly godlike intuition of the\nGreeks regarded the mere extension into space and the region of the\nindefinite, not, as some modern votaries of such longings do, as the\nhighest attainment of mankind, but as a damnation which it relegates to\nTartarus.\n\n(_\u03b3_) If we ask ourselves in a general way, what from this point must\nfor classical art fall into the background, failing, that is, to have\nany right to figure as its final form and adequate content, we shall\nfind at the earliest point of departure the elements of Nature. With\nthem disappear from the world of the new gods all that is gloomy[170],\nfantastical, void of clarity, every wild confusion between Nature\nand Spirit, between significances essentially substantive and the\naccidental incidents of externality. In a world such as this the\ncreations of an unrestricted imagination, which has not yet for its\nprinciple the measure of spiritual proportion, have no place, and\nare compelled and justly so to vanish before the clear light of day.\nWe may furbish up the monstrous Cabeiri[171], the Corybantes, these\nrepresentatives of procreative force as much as we choose, yet for\nall that such presentations in every trait of them--to say nothing\nof the ancient Baubo, whom Goethe sets careering over the Blocksberg\non an old sow--belong to a greater or less degree to the twilight of\nconsciousness. Only that which is spiritual imperatively demands the\nlight; and that which does not reveal itself and in itself expound its\nown interpretation is the unspiritual, which fades again once more into\nNight and obscurity. That which is of Spirit on the contrary reveals\nitself, and purifies itself, by itself defining its external form, from\nthe caprice of the imagination, the flood of obstructing shapes, and\nthe otherwise perturbed accessories of symbolical sense.\n\nFor the same reasons we now find that human activity, in so far as it\nis limited merely to Nature's wants and their satisfaction, falls into\nthe background. That old right, Themis, Dike and the rest, as one not\ndeterminate through laws which originate in self-conscious Spirit,\nloses its unimpaired validity, and in the same way, if conversely, that\nwhich is purely local, albeit there is still room left for its play,\npasses by incorporation into the universal figures of the gods; in\nwhich we may still trace the lingering vestiges that remain of it. For\nas in the Trojan war the Greeks fought and conquered as _one_ people,\nso, too, the Homeric gods, who already have their conflict with the\nTitans behind them in the past, are one essentially secure and defined\ngod-world, a world which is yet further with ever-increasing fulness\nmade definite and unassailable by later poetry and the plastic arts.\nThis invincible consistency[172] is in its relation to the content of\nthe Greek world of gods Spirit and only Spirit; but not Spirit in its\nabstract ideality, but as identified with its external and adequate\nexistence, just as with Plato soul and body, as in union brought into\none nature and in this consolidation from one piece, is at once the\nDivine and Eternal.\n\n\n3. THE POSITIVE CONSERVATION OF THE CONDITIONS SET UP THROUGH NEGATION\n\nDespite, then, the victory of the new gods that which came before them\nstill remains in the classical type of art partly preserved and revered\nin the original form in which we have already recognized it, partly\nunder a transmuted mode. It is only the limited Jewish national god\nwhich is unable to tolerate other gods in its company for the reason\nthat it purports as _the_ one god to include everything, although\nin regard to the definition of its form it fails to pass beyond its\nexclusiveness wherein the god is merely the God of His own people. Such\na god manifests his universality in fact only through his creation\nof Nature and as Lord of the heavens and the earth. For the rest he\nremains the god of Abraham, who led his people Israel out of Egypt,\ngave them laws on Sinai, and divided the land of Canaan among the Jews.\nAnd through this narrow identification of him with the Jewish nation\nhe is in a quite peculiar way the god of this folk; and consequently,\nspeaking generally, neither stands in positive consonance with\nNature, nor appears truly as absolute Spirit referable back from his\ndeterminate character and objectivity to his universality. Consequently\nthis austere, national god is so jealous, and ordains in his jealousy\nthat men shall see elsewhere merely false idols. The Greeks, on the\ncontrary, discovered their gods among other nations and accepted\nwhat was foreign among themselves. For the god of classical art has\nspiritual and bodily individuality and is for this reason not the one\nand only one, but merely a _particular_ godhead, which, as everything\nelse that shares particularity, has a circle of particularity which\nsurrounds it or in opposition to it as its Other, from which it is the\nresult, and which is qualified to preserve its validity and worth.\nThe process here is analogous to that of the particular divisions of\nNature. Although the world of vegetation is the truth of the geological\nimage of Nature, the animal again the higher truth of the vegetable,\nyet the mountains and the flooded land persist as the solid basis of\ntrees, shrubs, and flowers, which in their turn do not lose their\nexistence alongside the world of animals.\n\n(_a_) The earliest form under which among the Greeks we come upon\nthis ancient residue, are the _Mysteries._ The Greek Mysteries were\nnothing secret in the sense that the Greek nation was not in a general\nway aware of their content. On the contrary, the majority of the\nAthenians and a large number of foreigners were among the initiated\nin the Eleusinian mysteries; but they were not permitted to speak of\nthat in which they had been instructed through initiation. In our\nown times people have been at great pains to discover more nearly\nthe type of conceptions which prevailed in these mysteries, and to\ninvestigate the kind of religious services which were used in their\ncelebration. It appears, however, that on the whole there was no\nextensive wisdom or profound knowledge concealed in the Mysteries. They\nmerely preserved the old traditions, the basis, that is, of what was\nlatterly reconstructed by the genuine type of art, and consequently,\nso far from containing the true, higher, and more valuable content,\nrather unfolded that which was of less significance and of inferior\nrank. Whatever it was, this holiness was not clearly expressed in the\nmysteries, but merely handed down in its symbolical features. And in\nfact this character of secrecy and reticence is bound up with the old\ntelluric, sidereal, and Titanic deposit; Spirit alone is the revealed\nand the self-revealer. Consonant, too, with this it is the symbolical\nmode of expression which constitutes the other aspect of secrecy\nin the mysteries, because in symbolism the interpretation remains\nobscure, and contains a something other than the external image, which\nit purports to display, in fact offers to the view. In this sense,\nfor example, the mysteries of Demeter and Bacchus were, it is true,\nspiritually interpreted, and contained a profounder sense. The form of\nthe same remained quite externally isolate from this content, so that\nit was impossible clearly to disengage it from it. Consequently the\nMysteries had very little influence over art; for though we are told\nof Aeschylus, that he willfully betrayed something which attached to\nthe Demeter mysteries, this merely amounts to an assertion on his part\nthat Artemis had been the daughter of Ceres, which is not very profound\nwisdom after all.\n\n(_b_) But, _secondly_, we find that the reverence and preservation\nof the old _r\u00e9gime_ is yet more clearly indicated in actual artistic\nrepresentation. We have already referred to Prometheus as the\nchastised Titan who appears in the stage immediately prior to that\nof genuine art. We meet with him however again as delivered. For as\nthe Earth and as the Sun, so also the fire, which Prometheus brought\ndown to men, that is, the eating of flesh, which he taught them, is\nan essential feature of human life, a necessary condition for the\nsatisfaction of their needs; and consequently Prometheus is honoured\nwith an enduring recognition[173]. In the Oedipus Colonos of Sophocles\nwe have the words:\n\n/$\n     \u03c7\u1ff6\u03c1o\u03c2 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c2 \u1f45\u03b4 \u1f14\u03c3\u03c4\u00b7 \u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9 \u03b4\u03ad \u03bd\u03b9\u03bd\n     \u03c3\u03b5\u03bc\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u03a0o\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u1ff6\u03bd\u00b7 \u1f10\u03bd \u03b4' \u1f41 \u03c0o\u03c1\u03c6\u03cc\u03c1o\u03c2 \u03b8e\u1f78\u03c2\n     T\u03b9\u03c4\u1f70\u03bd \u03a0\u03c1o\u03bc\u03b7\u03b8\u1f72\u03c5\u03c2[174]\n$/\n\nand the scholiast adds that Prometheus was revered in the Academy along\nwith Athene, as Hephaestos was, and a temple was shown in a grove of\nthe goddess, and an ancient pedestal near the entrance, where there\nwas not only an image of Hephaestos, but also one of Prometheus.\nPrometheus, however, according to the statement of Lysimachides, was\nrepresented as primary and more ancient, and he held in his hand a\nsceptre; Hephaestos as the younger and in the second place, and the\naltar on the pedestal was shared by both. Prometheus, then, according\nto the tale, was not obliged to endure his chastisement for ever,\nbut was released from his fetters by Hercules. In this story of his\nliberation we come across certain remarkable traits. In other words,\nPrometheus is delivered from his agony because he informs Zeus of\nthe danger which threatens his empire at the hands of the thirteenth\ndescendant. This descendant is Hercules, to whom, we may add in\nillustration, Poseidon exclaims in the \"Birds\" of Aristophanes[175],\n\"he will do himself an injury, if he strike a bargain with reference\nto the transference of the divine headship, for all that Zeus leaves\nbehind him on his decease will most assuredly take place.\" And, in\nfact, Hercules is the only man who passed over into Olympus, became a\ngod after being a man, and stands higher than Prometheus, who remained\na Titan. Moreover, the overturning of the old race of tyrants is\nintimately connected with the name of Hercules and the Heraklidae. The\nHeraklidae break up the power of the old dynasties and royal houses,\nin which we may remark the selfish desire of personal aggrandizement\nand lawlessness no less than disregard for their subjects admitted no\njudicial restraint, and consequently was responsible for the grossest\ncruelties. Hercules, though himself in the service of a superior lord,\novercame the savagery of this despotism.\n\nIn a similar way we may, to linger once more for a moment by the\nillustrations we adduced on a former page, recall again to our readers\nthe \"Eumenides\" of Aeschylus. The conflict between Apollo and the\nEumenides is to be settled by the intervention of the Areopagus. In\nother words, a human tribunal, as a whole, at whose head stands Athene,\nstands forth as the concrete spirit of the folk, and is as such to\nterminate the collision. The judges, however, give an equal number of\nvotes for condemnation and acquittal, having an equal reverence both\nfor the Eumenides and Apollo; the white pebble of Athene, however,\ndecides the conflict in favour of Apollo. The Eumenides break out in\nindignation against this decision of Athene; she, however, allays\ntheir wrath by promising them worship and altars in the famous grove\nof Colonos. What the Eumenides have to give in return to her people\nis a protection against the evils[176] which result from the elements\nof _Nature_, the earth, the heavens, the sea, and the winds; they\nhave further to ward off unfruitfulness in the fields, the failure of\nliving seed, and misbirths in all else that is procreated. Pallas, on\nher part, takes beneath her protection the strife of wars and sacred\ncontests. Ina similar way Sophocles[177], in his \"Antigone,\" not only\nmakes Antigone suffer and die, but to a like extent we find that Kreon\nis punished by the loss of his wife and the death of Haemon, both of\nwhom perish through the death of Antigone.\n\n(_c_) _Thirdly_, the ancient gods do not merely preserve their place\nin juxtaposition to the new, but, what is of more importance, the\nnatural basis itself is maintained by the new gods, and receives,\ncontinuing to made its echo sound in them, if in conformity with the\nspiritual individuality of classical art, a reverential acceptance.\n\n(_\u03b1_) And for this reason people are not unfrequently led into the\nerror of conceiving the Greek gods, in respect to their human character\nand form, as mere _allegories_ of such natural elements. This is not\nso. In this sense we frequently hear it stated that Helios is the\ngod of the sun, Diana the goddess of the moon, or Neptune the god of\nthe sea. Such a separation, however, between the natural element, as\ncontent, and the humanly shaped personification, as form, no less than\nthe external association of both, regarded merely as the masterdom of\nthe god over the natural fact, as we are accustomed to it in the Old\nTestament, is quite inapplicable to Greek conceptions. We never find\namong the Greeks such an expression as \u1f41 \u03b8\u03b5\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4o\u1fe6 \u1f21\u03bb\u03afo\u03c5, \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03ac\u03c3\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2,\nand so forth, though it is quite certain they would have used with\nothers such an expression for the relation in question, had it been\ncompatible with their point of view. Helios is the sun as god.\n\n(_\u03b2_) We must, however, at once insist on the further fact that the\nGreeks never regarded mere Nature as itself divine. On the contrary,\nthey retained the definite conception that what was purely natural\nwas not divine. This is partly contained, if unexpressed, in what\ntheir gods actually are, in part also it is expressly stated so by\nthemselves. Plutarch, for example, in his essay upon Isis and Osiris,\nrefers incidentally to the modes of interpretation current of myths\nand divinities. Osiris and Isis belong to the Egyptian theogony, and\nhad yet more of the natural element for their content than the Greek\ngods, who correspond to them; they merely express the longing and\nconflict to escape out of the circle of Nature to that of Spirit. In\nlater times they were very highly honoured in Rome, and the mysteries\nallied with them were of great importance. Yet for all that it is\nPlutarch's view that it would be an interpretation beneath the level\nof the subject to think of explaining them as sun, earth, or water.\nOnly that which in the sun, Earth, and so forth, is without measure or\nco-ordination, defective or superfluous, can strictly be referred to\nthe natural elements, and all that is good and conformable to order is\nas exclusively a work of Isis, and the rational principle, the \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3o\u03c2,\na work of Osiris. It is not, therefore, the natural as such which is\nadduced as the substantive content of these gods, but the spiritual\nprinciple, the universal, \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3o\u03c2, reason, conformity to law.\n\nBy virtue of this insight into the spiritual nature of the gods, the\nmore definite elements of Nature, then, had also among the Greeks\nbeen differentiated from the later gods. We have, it is true, grown\naccustomed to associate Helios and Selene, to take two examples, with\nApollo and Diana: in Homer, however, they are presented as distinct.\nThe same remark applies to Oceanos and others.\n\n(_\u03b3_) But in the _third_ place an echo still lingers in the new gods\nof the natural powers, whose operative energies themselves belong to\nthe spiritual individuality of the gods. We have already indicated,\nat an earlier stage, the basis of this positive connection of the\nspiritual and natural in the ideal of classical art, and may limit our\nobservations here to a few illustrations.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In Poseidon resides, as in Pontus and Oceanus, the might of\nthe world-encircling sea, but his power and activity extends further.\nHe built Ilium and was a shield of Athens. Generally he is revered\nas the founder of cities, in so far as the sea is the element of\nsea-faring, of commerce, and a bond between mankind. Apollo, in like\nmanner, is the light of knowledge, of oracular speech, and preserves,\nmoreover, a distant relation with Helios, as the natural light of the\nsun. Critics differ, no doubt--take Voss and Creuzer for examples--as\nto whether Apollo is referable to the sun. One may, however, in fact,\nassert that he both is and is not the sun, since he is not limited to\nits natural content, but is raised thereby to the significance of a\nspiritual import. It is impossible to escape the inevitable connection\nin which knowledge and light, the light of Nature and that of Spirit,\nif we regard their fundamental characteristics, stand relatively to\none another. Light regarded as a element of Nature is that which\nmanifests. Without our seeing Light itself it makes visible to us the\nilluminated objects around. By means of Light everything grows on\nthe plane of contemplation for something else. Spirit, that is the\nfree light of consciousness, knowledge, and cognition, possesses just\nthe same character of manifestation. The distinction, apart from the\ndifferences of the respective spheres, in which these two modes of\nmanifestation reveal themselves, consists simply in this, that Spirit\nreveals itself, and in that which it brings us, or which it assimilates\nas content[178], remains constant to itself. Light, however, does not\nmake itself apprehensible to itself, but, on the contrary, makes that\nwhich is other and external to itself apprehensible; and though, no\ndoubt, we may say this is done from its own resources, yet it cannot,\nas the Spirit can, once more retire into itself. For this reason it\ndoes not win the higher unity which finds itself constant by itself in\nanother. Just as, then, light and knowledge are closely associated, we\nfind in Apollo, as spiritual god, still a recollection of the light of\nthe sun. For this reason Homer, for example, ascribes the plague in\nthe camp of the Greeks to Apollo, which, in such a locality is in the\nsummer solstice ascribable to the operation of the sun. We may add that\nhis deadly arrows have unquestionably a symbolical reference to the\nsolar rays. In the external representation it is external signs which\nmore closely determine under what specific interpretation the god shall\nbe mainly accepted.\n\nMore particularly when we follow up the origins of the later gods\nwe are able to recognize the natural element, which the gods of the\nclassic ideal retain in themselves. This is a point which Creuzer in\nparticular has made clear. For example, in the conception of Jupiter\nthere are many features which indicate a solar source. The twelve\nlabours of Hercules, the expedition, for example, in which he carries\noff the apples of the Hesperides, have relation both to the sun and\nthe twelve months. At the root of the conception of Diana we have the\ndistinct suggestion of the mother of Nature, just as the Ephesian\nDiana, for example, which floats between the old world and the new,\nhas for her fundamental content Nature generally, procreation and\nnutrition; which latter feature is clearly indicated in a part of her\nexternal form, namely the breasts. If we consider the Greek Artemis, on\nthe other hand, the huntress, who slays wild animals, we find that in\nher humanly beautiful and maiden form and self-continency, this aspect\nfalls entirely into the background, although the half moon and the\narrows still distinctly recall to us Selene. To take Aphrodite in the\nsame way, the more we follow her back to her original source in Asia\nthe more she approaches a force of Nature. Once arrived in Greece, the\nspiritual and more individual aspect of her grace, charm, and love,\npassion is more emphasized, albeit here, too, the natural basis is by\nno means entirely absent. In the same way the productivity of Nature\nis, no doubt, the original cradle which gives us Ceres. Starting from\nthat we proceed to the spiritual content, whose relations are developed\nfrom agriculture, property, etc. The source in Nature of the Muses\nis the murmur of the spring-water; and Zeus himself may be accepted\nunder one aspect as the universal Power of Nature, and is revered as\nthe Thunderer, as with Homer already thunder is the sign of misfortune\nor assistance, is, in short, an omen, and as such is relative to that\nwhich is human and spiritual. Juno, too, implies a natural association\nwith the firmament of cloud and the heavenly sphere in which the gods\nmove to and fro. So we are told, for example, that Zeus laid Hercules\non the breast of Juno, and from the milk which spouted thereout flashed\ninto being the Milky Way.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Just as, then, in the later gods, from one point of view the\nuniversal elements of Nature are dethroned, while from another they are\nmaintained, we have the same process repeated in that which is, more\nstrictly speaking, animal, which we merely regarded in a former passage\non the side of its degradation. We are now able to point out a more\npositive aspect under which such may be considered. Since, however,\nin the classic gods the symbolic mode of configuration is abolished,\nand they secure as their content the spirit that is self-luminous,\nthe symbolical _significance_ of animals must tend to pass away\nprecisely in proportion as the animal form has taken to itself the\nright to mingle with the human under a mode naturally alien to it.\nIt will therefore appear merely as a significant attribute, and is\nestablished in juxtaposition to the human form of the gods. Thus we\nfind the eagle as attendant on Jupiter, the peacock on Juno, the doves\nas accompanying Aphrodite, the hound, Anubis, as watch-dog of the\nlower world, and so forth. If, therefore, there is still a symbolical\naspect which attaches to the ideals of the spiritual gods, yet, if\ncontrasted with the original significance, it will appear of little\nimportance; and the natural significance, if strictly regarded, which\npreviously constituted the essential content, will merely persist as\na residue, and mere particular mode of externality, which, on account\nof its accidental character, more often than not has a grotesque\nappearance, for the reason that the former significance is no longer\nthere. Inasmuch as the ideal content of these gods is that which\npartakes of Spirit and humanity, the externality pertinent to them\napproximates to a _human_ contingency and weakness. In this connection\nwe may once more recall to memory the numerous love affairs of Zeus.\nAccording to their original symbolic significance, they are related, as\nwe already have seen, to the universal activity of generation, that is,\nthe vitality of Nature. As the love affairs of Zeus, however, which,\nin so far as his marriage with Here is to be regarded as the permanent\nand substantive sexual relation, appear in the light of an infidelity\ntowards his spouse, they have the complexion of accidental adventures,\nand exchange their symbolical sense for unconnected tales which possess\nthe character of purely capricious invention.\n\nWith this degradation of the powers which are purely natural and of the\nanimal aspect no less than of the abstract universality of spiritual\nrelations, and with the re-acceptance of the same within the spiritual\nindividuality, permeated and Suffused as it is with Nature, we leave\nbehind us the origins of classical art which are stamped with necessity\nand are presupposed by its essence, inasmuch as it is on this path\nthat the Ideal evolves itself by its own agency with that which it is\naccording to its notion. This reality of the spiritual gods adequate to\nits notion carries us on to the genuine Ideals of the classical type of\nart, which, in contrast to the old _r\u00e9gime_ which has been vanquished,\nrepresent immortality[179], for mortality generally resides in the\nincompatibility of the notion to its determinate existence.\n\n[Footnote 139: _Als eine Unw\u00fcrdigkeit_. As something unworthy of the\nfull notion of its gods.]\n\n[Footnote 140: That is, the relegation of it to a position of\ninferiority.]\n\n[Footnote 141: This is the German word. By genius I presume Hegel means\n\"the familiar spirit\" of a particular animal. Apparently this rather\nthan \"kind.\" \"Iliad,\" II, 308; XII, 208.]\n\n[Footnote 142: \"Odyss.\" XIV, 414; XXIV, 215.]\n\n[Footnote 143: \"Metam.\" I, vv. 150-243.]\n\n[Footnote 144: \"Metam.\" VI, vv. 440-676.]\n\n[Footnote 145: \"Metam.\" I, vv. 451-567.]\n\n[Footnote 146: _Ibid._, IX, vv. 454-64.]\n\n[Footnote 147: _Ibid.,_ V, v. 302.]\n\n[Footnote 148: _Ibid._, vv. 319-31.]\n\n[Footnote 149: \"Herod.\" II, 46.]\n\n[Footnote 150: Creuzer, \"Symb.\" I, 477.]\n\n[Footnote 151: That is, the sphere of fauns as a part of Nature.]\n\n[Footnote 152: _Praktisch._ The contrast is between the philosophic\ncontemplation and the world regarded as the sphere of human activity.]\n\n[Footnote 153: By _Umkehr_ Hegel probably means a \"return\" in the\ndirection of the art of the Sublime.]\n\n[Footnote 154: _Einen bestimmten Kreis._ The meaning seems to be that\nthe circle of examples is here a clearly defined and limited one as\ncontrasted with the vagueness of Oriental Pantheism.]\n\n[Footnote 155: \"Herod.\" II, 52.]\n\n[Footnote 156: _War ein entscheidendes Moment._ That is, was part of\nthe oracular reply.]\n\n[Footnote 157: Both wording and punctuation of this sentence are at\nfault, but I give the sense no doubt intended.]\n\n[Footnote 158: I am not sure what is referred to here by _Telchinen_\nand _P\u00e4taken._]\n\n[Footnote 159: _Das Ganze_, means here, I think, the whole of Creation.]\n\n[Footnote 160: That is, took no further active interest in human life.]\n\n[Footnote 161: Politicus ex rec. Bekk. II, 2, p. 283; Steph. 274.]\n\n[Footnote 162: \"Protag.\" I, 1, pp. 170-4; Steph. 320-3.]\n\n[Footnote 163: I have just above translated _Sitte_ with the word\n\"custom,\" that is, ethical custom. But the contrast here is, I\nthink, between morality generally (_sittlich_) and juridical right\n(_Rechtliche_).]\n\n[Footnote 164: The argument of Hegel is ingenious. It must be admitted,\nhowever, that in several accounts of Prometheus, notably that of\nAeschylus, Zeus is represented as hostile to human progress. And it\nis rather a strain on the facts to trace, in the case of Ceres, so\nmuch that is of an ethical colour to agriculture, and limit the use of\nfire simply to the crafts of Hephaestos, ignoring, that is to say, its\ndomestic use altogether.]\n\n[Footnote 165: _Der Sittlichkeit._]\n\n[Footnote 166: _Gehaltvolle._ That is, intrinsically sound and\nsubstantial.]\n\n[Footnote 167: \"Eum.\" vv. 206-9.]\n\n[Footnote 168: Soph., \"Ant.\" v. 451: \u1f21 \u03be\u1f50\u03bdo\u03b9\u03bao\u03c2 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9 \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd \u0394\u1f30\u03ba\u03b7.]\n\n[Footnote 169: _Umgestaltung._ Remodelling, reorganization. Reformation\nin literal sense.]\n\n[Footnote 170: _Tr\u00fcbe._ \"Troubled\" perhaps is better.]\n\n[Footnote 171: The Cabeiri were mystic Powers. Aeschylus wrote a drama\nunder this title. The ancients differ greatly as to their origin and\nnature, Herodotus assumes an Egyptian origin.]\n\n[Footnote 172: _Feste_ is as a substantive a stronghold, and this may\nbe Hegel's meaning, but I think he uses it here for _Festigkeit_,\nconsistency, compact security.]\n\n[Footnote 173: The sentence is not very clear. The sense is that\nPrometheus is honoured as the Earth and Sun are honoured by his\nassistance of human needs.]\n\n[Footnote 174: Vv. 54-6. \"This entire spot is sacred; awful Poseidon\nholds it, and therein is the fire bringing god, the Titan Prometheus.\"]\n\n[Footnote 175: Vv. 1645-8.]\n\n[Footnote 176: Vv. 901 _et seq._]\n\n[Footnote 177: Hegel means that in the suffering of Kleon Sophocles\ntreats the natural law of Antigone and the higher law of the king on\nthe same terms.]\n\n[Footnote 178: Lit., \"what is made for it,\" _e.g._, the detail of\nobjective experience.]\n\n[Footnote 179: _Unverg\u00e4nglichkeit._ Hegel no doubt refers to the\nepithet always applied by Homer and other, Greek poets to the gods of\nOlympus, immortal.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE IDEAL OF THE CLASSICAL TYPE OF ART\n\nWe have already seen what the essence of the Ideal is in our general\nconsideration of the beauty of art. Here we are to take it merely in\nthe special sense appropriate to the _classic_ Ideal, whose notion has\nalready presented itself in its general features in its association\nwith the notion of the _classical_ art-type. For the Ideal, of which\nwe have now to speak, consists simply in this, that classical art in\nvery truth attains to and sets before us that which exposes its most\nintimate notion. As content it grasps on this particular plane the\nspiritual, in so far as this Spirit attracts Nature and her powers to\nits own appropriate realm, and sets itself before us in exposition not\nas mere inwardness and dominion over Nature, but furthermore accepts\nas its proper form, human shape, deed, and action, through which\nthe spiritual shines forth clearly in perfect freedom, and the form\npenetrates with its life into the sensuous material not merely as into\na mode of externality symbolically significant, but as actually into a\ndeterminate existence, which is the adequate existence of Spirit.\n\nWe may divide up, then, the present chapter into the following sections:\n\nWe have in the _first_ place to consider the _general_ character of\nthe classic Ideal, which possesses what is pertinent to humanity\nin its form no less than its content, and elaborates both sides in\nthe completest consistency one with the other. _Secondly_, however,\nforasmuch as here the human is absorbed wholly into the bodily shape\nand external appearance, it becomes the _definite_ external shape,\nwhich in its conformity is merely a defined content. Since, therefore,\nwe have the Ideal before us at the same time as _particularity_, there\narises a definite number of _particular_ gods and powers in the shape\nof human existence. _Thirdly_, this particularity does not persist in\nthe abstraction of _one_ type of definition, whose essential character\nwould constitute the entire content and the one-sided principle for its\nrepresentation; but rather it is quite as much essentially a totality\nand the _individual_ unity and congruity which is applicable to such.\nWithout this repletion such particularity would remain cold and empty;\nthe vitality of Life would fail it, a contingency which is impossible\nto the Ideal in any relation whatever.\n\nWe have now to consider more narrowly the Ideal of classical art\naccording to these three aspects of universality, particularity, and\nindividual singularity.\n\n\n1. THE IDEAL OF CLASSICAL ART GENERALLY\n\nThe questions which arise relatively to the origins of the Greek gods,\nin so far as the real centre for ideal reproduction results from\nthem, we have already touched upon, and seen that they belong to the\nelaborated tradition of art. The modification that is incidental to\nthat treatment can only proceed by means of the twofold degradation,\non the one hand, of the universal powers of Nature and their\npersonification, and, on the other, of the animal constituents and\nits form, in order that thereby it may win the spiritual as its true\ndeterminate substance, and also the human mode of appearance as its\ntrue form.\n\n(_a_) We have described how the classical Ideal first really becomes\nactual through such a remodelling of that which came before the\nearliest aspect of it. Along with this we have above all to draw\nattention to just this fact, that it is generated from mind (Spirit),\nand consequently has originated in the most intimate and personal\nresources of the poets and artists, who brought it into the presence\nof conscious life with the aid of a thoughtful consideration as\nclear as it was unfettered and with the distinct object of artistic\nproduction. In opposition to this creation we have, however, apparently\nthe fact that Greek mythology reposes on earlier traditions, and\ncontains distinct references to foreign, that is Oriental, matter.\nHerodotus, for example, although specifically asserting in the passage\nalready cited that Homer and Hesiod created for the Greeks their\ngods, nevertheless in other passages associates closely these very\nGreek gods with other divinities such as those of Egypt. For in the\nsecond book[180] he expressly narrates that Melampus gave the name of\nDionysos to the Greeks, further introduced the Phallus and the entire\nsacrificial festival, adding, however, this discrepant detail, that\nMelampus had learnt the religious service from the Tyrian Kadmus and\nthe Phoenicians, who came with Kadmus to Boeotia. These contradictory\nstatements have roused interest in our own times, more particularly\nas associated with Creuzer's researches, who endeavours to discover\nin Homer, for example, ancient mysteries and the sources which flowed\nin together towards Greece, whether they be Asiatic, Pelasgian,\nDodonian, Thracian, Samothracian, Phrygian, Indian, Buddhistic,\nPhoenician, Egyptian, or Orphic, to say nothing of the infinitely\nvaried peculiarities of specific localities and other details. No doubt\nit appears at first sight wholly inconsistent with these many sources\nof tradition that those poets should have supplied either the names or\nthe substantial form of the gods. It is possible, however, to harmonize\nentirely both factors, tradition, and individual creation. The\ntradition comes first; it is the point of departure, which hands down\nthe mere ingredients; but for all that it does not contribute the real\ncontent and the genuine form of the gods. This substantive presence is\nthe product of the genius of those poets, who discovered by a process\nof free elaboration the true substantive form of these very gods and\nare consequently in fact become the creators of that mythology which\nawakes our admiration of Greek art. Yet for this reason the Homeric\ngods, in one aspect of them, are not to be taken as the result merely\nof the poetic phantasy, or nothing more than capricious invention. They\nhave their roots in the genius and beliefs of the Greek folk and the\nreligious basis of that nation. They are the absolute potencies and\npowers, the highest stretch of the Greek conception, the central point\nof the beautiful regarded universally, presented, so to speak, by the\nMuses themselves to the poet.\n\nIn this free handling, then, the artist takes up an entirely different\nposition from that he occupies in the East. The Hindoo poets and\nsages have also to begin with material ready to work upon, such as the\nelements of Nature, the heavens, animals, streams, and so forth, or\nthe pure abstraction of the formless and contentless Brahman. Their\nenthusiasm, however, is a confusion of the ideal character[181] of\nthe subjectivity which accepts the difficult task of elaborating such\nan external material to it, an enthusiasm which, in the unmeasured\nexpansion of its imagination, which excludes every secure and\nabsolute[182] direction, is unable to mould its creations conformably\nto genuine freedom of expression and beauty, and remains the slave\nof that material in uncontrolled and roving productive activity. It\nresembles, in fact, a master-builder who has no firm foundation beneath\nhim. Ancient ruins of half dismantled walls, mounds, and projecting\nrocks fetter him, quite apart from the particular aims according to\nwhich he desires to construct his building; and he can only create\na wild, inharmonious, and fantastical fabric. In other words, that\nwhich he produces is not the result of his imagination freely acting\nunder its own plastic genius. Conversely the Hebrew poets present\nus with revelations which, it is said, they deliver as the Lord's\nvoice, so that here again the creative source is an enthusiasm not\nfully self-conscious; it is separated, that is, and distinct from\nindividuality and the productive genius of the artist, as in the wisdom\nof the Sublime generally it is the abstract and eternal, essentially\nin its relation to something other than it and external, which is\nconsciously or imaginatively conceived.\n\nIn classical art artists and poets are, it is true, also prophets and\nteachers, who declare and reveal to mankind the nature of the Absolute\nand Divine. But we must emphasize here the following distinctions:\n\n(_\u03b1_) In the _first_ place the content of their gods is neither that\nappearance of Nature which is external to humanity nor the mere\nabstraction of one Godhead, whereby merely a superficial formulation\nor an inwardness that is without content is preserved. Their content\nis, on the contrary, deduced from human life and existence, and for\nthis reason is that which is peculiar to the human breast; a content,\nin short, with which man himself can freely coalesce as at home with\nhimself, while that which he thus produces is the fairest product of\nhis own activity.\n\n(_\u03b2_) _Secondly_, these artists are at the same time _poets_, that is,\nmen of creative talent who work the aforesaid material and its content\ninto a free and substantially independent form. As thus regarded Greek\nartists are in all essential respects creative poets. They have brought\ntogether all the varied original ingredients into the melting-pot,\nbut they have produced thereby no mere broth, such as might come from\na witches' cauldron; rather they did away with all that is troubled,\npurely natural, unclean, foreign, and without rational measure in the\npure flame of this more profound spirit; they made all glow together\nand permitted the form to appear at last purified, albeit it still\nretained a distant accord with the ruder material from which it was\nfashioned. What mainly concerned them in this work consisted partly\nin the winnowing away of all that was in their inherited material\ndestitute of form and beauty, distorted and symbolical, and partly in\nthe prominence they gave to what was really spiritual, which they set\nthemselves to render under modes of individuality, and in the interest\nof which they had to discover gradually the external appearance most\nappropriate. Here for the first time we find that it is the human form\nand human actions and events, not merely made use of under the mode\nof personification, which, as we have already seen, necessarily stand\nforth as the uniquely adequate reality. No doubt the artist discovers\nthese forms, too, in the real world; but he has at the same time to\neradicate all that is accidental and incongruent in them, before they\nare entitled to appear as commensurable with that humanity, which, as\nessentially apprehended, shall offer to us the image of the eternal\npowers and gods. And this is what we call the free and spiritual, and\nnot merely capricious production of the artist.\n\n(_\u03b3_) And, _thirdly_, for the reason that the gods are not merely\nstable existences in their own world, but also are active within the\nconcrete reality of Nature and human, events, the poet is further\nconcerned to recognize the presence and activity of the gods in this\nrelation to human, fact, to interpret, that is, the particularity of\nnatural event and human actions and destiny wherein the divine powers\nare apparently interfused, and to share thus the duties of the priest\nand the seer. We, from the point of view of our everyday prosaic\nreflection, explain the phenomena of Nature according to universal laws\nand forces, and interpret the actions of mankind as the product of\ntheir subjective intentions and self-proposed aims. The Greek poets,\nhowever, have their eyes everywhere directed toward the Divine, and\ncreate, by giving to human activities the loftier colour and habit\nof divine actions, and by means of such interpretation, the various\naspects under which the power of the gods is made visible. For a number\nof such interpretations results in a number of actions, in which we\nare made aware of the character of this or that god. We have but to\nopen, for example, the Homeric poems, and we shall scarcely meet with\na single event of importance which is not more closely elucidated as\nproceeding from the volition or actual assistance of the gods. These\nexpositions are, in fact, the insight, the independently created\nbelief, the intuitive conceptions of the poet, just as Homer often,\ntoo, gives expression to them in his own name, and in part also places\nsuch in the mouth of his characters, whether priest or hero. Quite at\nthe opening of the \"Iliad,\" for example, he has himself explained the\npestilence in the Greek camp as the result of the indignation of Apollo\nover Agamemnon, who refused to release to Chryses his daughters[183];\nand, in a passage that follows, he makes Calchas transmit this very\ninterpretation to the Greeks[184].\n\nIn a similar way Homer informs us in the concluding canto of the\n\"Odyssey\"--on the occasion when Hermes conducted the shades of the\ninanimate suitors to the meadows of Asphodel, and they find there\nAchilles and the other deceased heroes, who fought before Troy, and\nfinally, too, Agamemnon joins them--how the last-mentioned describes\nthe death of Achilles[185]:\n\n\"The whole day long had the Greeks fought; and when at last Zeus\nseparated the combatants, they carried the noble body to the ships,\nand washed it, weeping often the while, and embalmed it. Then there\narose a divine uproar on the sea, and the affrighted Achaeans would\nhave been flung headlong into their hollow ships, had not an aged and\nmuch knowing man, Nestor to wit, restrained them, whose advice had\nalso proved the wisest on former occasion.\" Nestor then interprets for\nthem the phenomenon in the following terms: \"The _mother_[186] comes\nforth from the sea with the immortal sea-goddesses, in order to meet\nher deceased son. And the great-hearted Achaeans at this word let\ntheir fear depart from them.\" That is to say, they knew then of what\nkind it was--of human origin--the mother in her grief comes toward\nhim; what they shall see and hear is that which finds its response\nin themselves. Achilles is her son, she is herself full of grief.\nAnd in this vein Agamemnon, turning towards Achilles, continues his\nnarrative with a description of the universal sorrow: \"And around thee\nstood the daughters of the ancient of the sea, lamenting, and they\nrobed themselves in ambrosial garments; and the Muses also, the nine\nin conclave, wailed by turns in beautiful song; and there was I ween\nno man of the Argives to be seen without tears, so greatly did the\nclear-toned song move all.\"\n\nIt is, however, another divine apparition in the \"Odyssey\" which has\nalways in this connection most particularly fascinated me in my study\nof it. Odysseus in his sea-wanderings, insulted among the Phaeacians\nduring the sports over which Euryalos presides, because he refused to\ntake part in the rival throwing of the discus, makes answer indignantly\nwith dark looks and hard words. He then stands up, seizes a disk,\nlarger and heavier than the rest, and hurls it far and away over the\nmark. One of the Phaeacians marks down the throw and calls out: \"Even\na blind man could see the stone; it does not lie within the medley of\nthe rest, but far beyond. Thou hast nothing to fear in this contest;\nthere is no Phaeacian who will reach or surpass such a throw as thine\nis. So he spake; but the much-enduring divine Odysseus rejoiced to see\na well-disposed friend in the lists.\" And this word, this friendly nod\nof the Phaeacian Homer interprets as the friendly apparition of Athene.\n\n(_b_) Of what kind, then, we may further ask, are the _products_ of\nthis classical mode of artistic activity, of what type are the new gods\nof Greek art?\n\n(_\u03b1_) It is their concentrated individuality which presents to us the\nmost general and at the same time most complete idea of their intrinsic\ncharacter, in so far, that is, as this individuality is brought\ntogether out of the variety of accidental traits, isolated actions, and\nevents into the one focus of their simple and self-exclusive unity.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) What appeals to us in these gods is first of all the spiritual\nand _substantive_ individuality, which, withdrawn into itself as it\nis out of the motley show of the particular medium of necessity, and,\nthe many-purposed unrest of the finite condition, reposes on its own\ninviolable universality, as on an eternal and intelligible foundation.\nIt is only thus that the gods appear as the imperishable powers, whose\nuntroubled rule is made visible to us not in the particular event in\nits evolution with somewhat else and external to it, but freely in its\nown unchangeableness and intrinsic worth.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Conversely, however, they are not by any means the bare\nabstraction of spiritual generalities, and thereby so-called general\nIdeals, but in so far as they are individuals they appear as one Ideal,\nan essentially of itself determinate existence, and consequently\none that is defined, in other words one that as Spirit possesses\n_characterization._ Without character we can have no individuality.\nFrom this point of view we find, as we have already indicated\npreviously, that there is at the root of these spiritual gods a\ndefinite natural force, with which a definite ethical consistency[187]\nis blended, such as imposes on every particular god distinct bounds to\nthe sphere of his activity. The manifold aspects and traits which are\nforthcoming by reason of this characterization as particular persons,\nbeing in this way concentrated in the point of a true self-identity,\nconstitute the characters of the gods.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In the true Ideal, however, this definition ought just as little\nto terminate in the blunt restriction of pure _one sidedness_, but\nmust at the same time appear as withdrawn into the universality of the\ngodhead. In just such a way, then, every god, by carrying in his own\nperson this defined character as divine and as bound up with that as\nuniversal individuality, is in part of a definite type, and in part\nis all in all, and floats, as it were, precisely midway between mere\nuniversality and equally abstract singularity. And this is what gives\nto the genuine Ideal of classical art its infinite security and repose,\nits untroubled blessedness and unimpaired freedom.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Add to this that as beauty of classical art the essentially\nself-articulate divine character is not only spiritual, but fully as\nmuch plastic form which appears externally in its bodily presence to\nthe eye no less than to the mind.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) This beauty, inasmuch as it possesses not merely the natural or\nanimal aspect in its spiritual personification, but includes as its\ncontent that which is spiritual in its adequate mode of existence,\ncan only take up what is _symbolical_ in its incidental aspect and\nunder those relations in which it appears as purely natural. Its real\nexternal expression is the form that is peculiar to mind and only mind,\nin so far as its ideal character reveals itself as existent truth, and\npours itself wholly through that form.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) From another point of view classical beauty is debarred\nfrom giving expression to the _Sublime._ For it is only the\nabstract universal, which attaches to itself no inclusion such as\nis self-defined, but merely a negative determinacy relatively to\nparticularity in general, and along with this is resolute in its\nantagonism to every form of embodiment which presents us with the\naspect of the Sublime. Classical beauty, on the contrary, carries\nspiritual individuality into the very heart of what is at the same time\nits natural existence, and elucidates the ideal content wholly in the\nmaterial of its external appearance.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) For this very reason, however, it is essential that the\nexternal form quite as much as the spiritual, which creates for\nitself therein its home and dwelling, should be liberated from all\ndependence on Nature and derangement, all finitude, all that is of\nfleeting character, all that is exclusively concerned with the sensuous\npresence, and should purify and exalt that definition of it which\ndiscloses affinity with the determinate character of the god into free\ncommerce with the universal forms of the human figure. The stainless\nexternality alone, from which every hint of weakness and relativity has\nbeen removed, and every flick of capricious particularity wiped off, is\nable to represent the Spirit's ideality, which should sink itself in it\nand secure an embodiment from it.\n\n(_\u03b3_) For the reason, however, that the gods are forced once more\nfrom the defined limits of character into the universal wave, the\nself-subsistency of Spirit as repose on itself, and as the security of\nitself in its external form has to discover a real reflection also in\nits manifestation.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Consequently we observe in the concrete individuality of the\ngods--when we have before us the genuine classic Ideal, on equal\nterms with all else--this nobility and loftiness of Spirit, in which,\ndespite the entire absorption within the bodily and sensuous presence,\nwe are made conscious of the absolute removal of all the indigence\nof what is wholly finite. Pure self-absorption[188] and the abstract\nliberation from every kind of determinacy is the highway to the Ideal\nof the Sublime. The classical Ideal, on the contrary, is made visible\nin an existence which entirely is its own, that is, the specific\nmanifestation of Spirit itself; yet for all that we shall find that\nhere, too, the Sublimity of the same is blended with the beauty, and\nthat the one aspect passes over immediately into the other. And this\nit is which constitutes the expression of loftiness in these figures\nof the gods, making inevitable the Sublime of classical beauty. An\nimmortal seriousness[189] makes its throne on the forehead of these\ngods, and is poured forth over their entire presentment.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) In their beauty these gods appear, therefore, as exalted\nover their individual bodily shape; we have consequently a kind\ncontradiction or contention between their lofty blessedness, which is,\nin fact, their spiritual self-exclusiveness and their beauty, which\npertains to their external bodily presence. Spirit appears wholly\nlost in its external form, and yet for all that appears quite as much\nabsorbed in itself from out that form. It is precisely as though we had\nthe moving to and fro of an immortal god among mortal men.\n\nIn this relation the Greek gods make on us an impression which, despite\nall difference, resembles that which the bust of Goethe by Rauch made\nupon me when I first saw it. Many will have doubtless seen it, the high\nbrow, the powerful, commanding nose, the free eye, the round chin,\nthe affable, finely-cut lips, the pose of the head, so suggestive of\ngenius, with its glance a bit on one side and uplifted: add to this\nthe entire fulness and breadth of an emotional and genial humanity,\nand further, those carefully articulated muscles of the forehead, of\nthe entire countenance, of all that gives evidence of passion and\nemotion; and in all this house of Life, the repose, stillness, and\nloftiness of advanced age; and we may add withal the fading ebb of the\nlips, which retreat back into the teethless mouth, the slackness of\nthe neck and cheeks, whereby the bridge of the nose appears yet more\ndominant, and the reach of the forehead yet more towering. The force\nof this firmly set figure, which to an extraordinary degree brings\nbefore us the notion of immutability, appears all the more so in the\nloose environment which surrounds it[190], just as the sublime head and\nform of the Oriental in his wide turban, but flapping over-garment and\ntrailing slippers. It is the secure, powerful, timeless spirit, which,\nin the mask of encircling mortality, is just ready to let this husk\nfall away, and yet suffers it to linger around it freely and without\nrestraint.\n\nIn much the same way the gods appear to us in their aspect of lofty\nfreedom and spiritual repose to be exalted over their bodily presence,\nso that they seem to feel their form, their limbs, despite all the\nbeauty that is there, as at the same time a superfluous appanage. And\nyet withal the entire presentment is suffused with vitality, identical\nwith their spiritual being, inseparable, without the disunion of what\nis essentially subsistent, and those parts which are more loosely put\ntogether, the spirit in short neither escaping nor coming forth from\nthe body, but both firmly moulded together into a whole, out of which,\nand in no other way, the self-absorption of Spirit looks forth in\nsilence in its amazing and secure self-possession.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) For the reason, then, that the contention we have indicated is\npresent, without appearing, however, as a difference or separation of\nthe ideal spirituality from its external form, the negative which is\ntherein contained, is for this very reason immanent in this inseparable\ntotality and is thereby expressed. This is within the sphere of this\nspiritual loftiness the breath and atmosphere of melancholy, which\nmen of genius have felt in the godlike figures of antique art even\nwhere the beauty of the external presentment is consummate. The\nrepose of divine blessedness[191] is unable to split itself up into\nthe passions of joy, pleasure, and satisfaction, and the _peace_ of\nimmortality stands aloof from the smile of self-satisfaction and genial\ncontentedness. Contentment is the emotion of the agreement of our\nsingular subjectivity with the condition of that environment which is\ndefined for or given to us or brought about through our own agency.\nNapoleon, for example, never expressed more thorough contentment than\nwhen he happened to obtain some success at the cost of making all\nthe world discontented. For contentment is only the approval of my\nown being, action, and engagements, and the extreme of it is readily\nrecognizable in that state of feeling of the Philistine to which every\nman of practical ability necessarily extends it. This feeling and its\nexpression is, however, no expression appropriate to the prefigured\nimmortal gods. Free and perfected beauty is not satisfied with joining\nthe concordant temper of a particular finite existence; rather its\nindividuality, in its aspect as Spirit no less than in that of form,\nalbeit it is self-defined with characterization, only finds itself\nfully in union with its true nature when it is at the same time free\nuniversality and spirituality in repose upon itself. This universality\nis just that which people are wont to point to as the frigidity of\nthe Greek gods. They are only cold, however, to our modern intimacy\nwith the temporal. Independently regarded they possess warmth and\nlife; that peaceful blessedness, which is reflected in their external\npresentment, is essentially an abstraction from particularity, a\nmode of being indifferent to the Past, a surrender of that which is\nexternal, a giving up which, albeit neither full of trouble nor pain,\nis for all that a giving up of what is earthly and evanescent, just as\ntheir cheerfulness of spirit looks far away and over death, the grave,\nloss and temporality, and for the very reason that it is profound\ninherently contains this negative we are discussing. And the more this\nearnestness and spiritual freedom is prominent in the vision of these\ngodlike figures the more we feel the contrast between this loftiness\nand the determinate corporality in which they are enclosed. The\nblessed gods mourn quite as much over their blessedness as their bodily\nenvironment. In the letters of their form we read the destiny which\nlies before them, and whose development, as actual manifestation of\nthat contradiction between this very loftiness and that particularity,\nspirituality, and sensuous existence classical art itself sets face to\nface with its final overthrow.\n\n(_c_) If we ask ourselves, then, _thirdly_, what is the nature of\nthe external representation, which is adequate to this notion of the\nclassic Ideal we have just indicated, we shall find in this connection,\ntoo, that the essential points of view have already in our general\nconsideration of the Ideal been furnished us with considerable detail.\nWe have consequently here only further to remark, that in the genuine\nclassic Ideal the spiritual individuality of the gods is not conceived\nin their relation to something else, or brought about by virtue of\ntheir particularity in conflict, and battle, but rather is made visible\nin their eternal self-tranquillity, in this painfulness of the godlike\npeace itself. The determinate character is not, therefore, made active\nin the way that it stimulated the gods to the sense of particular\nemotions and passions, or compelled them to adopt specific aims of\nconduct. On the contrary, it is precisely out of that collision and\ndevelopment, nay, out of that very relation to the finite and all that\nis essentially discordant that they are brought back to that condition\nof pure self-absorption. This repose in its most austere severity, not\ninflexible, cold, or dead, but sensitive and immutable, is the highest\nand most adequate form of representation for the classic gods. When\nthey make their appearance consequently in specific situations, it is\nnot necessary that there should be conditions or actions which give\nrise to conflicts, but rather such which, as themselves harmless, so,\ntoo, leave the gods in a like condition. It is, therefore, sculpture\nwhich among the arts is above all adapted to portray the classic Ideal\nin its simple self-possession, in which what is rather the universal\ndivinity receives more obvious emphasis than the particular character.\nChiefly it is the more ancient and more austere type of sculpture which\nmaintains its firm hold of this aspect of the Ideal, and only in the\nlater forms we find a movement towards increased dramatic vividness\nof situations and characterization. Poetry, on the contrary, ranges\nthe gods in vigorous action, that is, in an attitude of negation to\na definite mode of life, and brings them thereby into conflict and\nstrife. The repose of plastic art, where it remains in the sphere which\nis uniquely its own, can only express the aforesaid negative phase of\nspirit face to face with particular facts in that serious strain of\nmelancholy, which we have already attempted to define more nearly.\n\n\n2. THE SPHERE OF THE PARTICULAR GODS\n\nAs individuality in visible form, represented under the mode of\nimmediate existence, and withal both definite and particular, godhead\nnecessarily is divided into a number of figures. In other words,\nPolytheism is unquestionably essential as the principle of classical\nart, and it would be the undertaking of a fool to think of embodying\nthe one God of the Sublime and of Pantheism or the absolute religion,\nwhich comprehends God purely as Spirit and essential personality, in\nthe plastic type of beauty, or to entertain the idea that the classical\nforms could have arisen among the Jews, Mohammedans, or Christians,\nas adapted to the content of their religious beliefs, from their own\noriginal views of the world, as they did in the case of the Greeks.\n\n(_a_) In this multiplicity the divine universe[192] at this stage\nis broken up into a sphere of particular gods, of which each\nindividual stands by himself alone in contrast to all the others.\nThese individualities are not, however, of the kind that they can be\ntaken merely as allegorical presentations of universal qualities, as\nif Apollo, for example, were the god of wisdom, Zeus of dominion.\nZeus is also quite as much wisdom, and in the \"Eumenides\" Apollo, as\nwe have seen, protects Orestes, the son and the royal son to boot,\nwhom he himself has stimulated to an act of vengeance. The sphere\nof the Greek gods is a multiplicity of individuals, of which every\nparticular god, albeit also in the specific character of a particular\nperson, is at the same time a self-exclusive totality, which itself\npossesses essentially also the quality of another god. For every such\npresentment, viewed as divine, is always, too, a whole. It is only by\nthis means that the divine personalities of Greek religion include an\nabundance of traits; and although their blessedness consists in their\nuniversal and spiritual self-repose no less than in their abstraction\nfrom the direct movement which Time is for ever defeating in the sphere\nof the disintegrating manifold of natural fact and condition, yet for\nall that they possess the power in a like degree to assert themselves\nas energetic and active in many of its aspects. They are neither the\nabstract particular nor the abstract universal, but the universal which\nis the source of particularity.\n\n(_b_) On account of this type of individuality, however, Greek\npolytheism is unable to make up an essentially systematic and\nself-integrated totality. At the first glance, it is true, it appears\nimperative to require of the Olympus of the gods, that the numerous\ngods that are there assembled, should, as thus collected together,\nand if their separable unities have real truth in them, and their\ncontent is to be classic in the true sense, also express essentially\nthe totality of the Idea, should exhaust the entire sphere of the\nnecessary forces of Nature and Spirit, and give to themselves therefore\nconstructive completeness, in other words, manifest themselves as\nsubject to a principle of necessity. This demand, however, would be\nliable from the first to the qualification that those forces present\nin the emotions and, generally speaking, assertive in the sphere\nof spiritual life in the absolute significance[193] which becomes\noperative first in the later and higher religion, must remain excluded\nfrom the sphere of the classic gods, so that the range of content, the\nparticular aspects of which succeed in making an appearance in Greek\nmythology, would be already thereby curtailed. Moreover, apart from\nthis, we have also on the one hand, necessarily introduced by virtue of\nthe essentially varied character of this individuality, the accidental\nincidents of a definition, which avoids the rigorous articulation\nof the differences inherent in the notion, and does not suffer\nthese divinities to maintain the abstraction of merely _one_ mode\nof determination. And, on the other hand, the universality, in the\nelemental medium of which the divine personalities secure their blessed\nstate, abolishes any hard and fast particularity, and the loftiness of\nthe eternal powers exalts itself jubilant over the cold seriousness of\nfinite fact, wherein, if this inconsequence did not prevail, the divine\npresences would be evolved through the medium of their limitations.\n\nHowever much, therefore, even the principal forces of the world, as the\ntotality of Nature and Spirit, are reproduced in Greek mythology, this\naggregation, quite as much in the interests of the universal Divine as\nin those of the individuality of particular gods, cannot assert itself\nas a _systematic_ whole. If this were not so, instead of _individual_\ncharacters the gods would approximate rather to allegorical beings,\nand instead of being _divine_ personalities would be characters wholly\nlimited to finite and abstract modes.\n\n(_c_) When we consequently consider the circle of the Greek\ndivinities--that is all within the range of the so-called presiding\ndivinities--more nearly according to their fundamental character,\ninquiring how that character appears firmly delineated by sculpture\nin its most general and at the same time sensuously concrete\npresentment, we find no doubt the essential distinctions and their\ntotality explicitly set before us, but also in their detail also\never again obliterated, and the severity of the execution tempered\nto a result which is inconsistent with either their beauty or their\nindividuality. So for example Zeus bears in his hands the dominion\nover gods and men, without, however, thereby essentially endangering\nthe free independence of the other gods. He is the supreme god; his\npower, however, does not absorb that of the others. We find in the\nconception of him no doubt an association with the heavens, with\nlightning and thunder, and the generative vitality of Nature; but he\nis yet more truly the might of the State, of the order of fact which\nis conformable to law, the binding nexus in contracts, oaths, and\nhospitality, and generally the substantial bond that gives subsistence\nto the human condition, whether in its practical or ethical aspect,\nthe potency, in short, both of knowledge and spirit. The dominion of\nhis brothers is directed toward the sea or the lower world. Apollo is\nknown as the god of knowledge, as the mouthpiece and fair presentment\nof spiritual interests, as the teacher of the Muses. \"Know thyself\"\nis the inscription over his temple at Delphi, a behest which is not\nso much concerned with the failings and defects, as the essential\nimport of spirit, that is with art and the truth of consciousness.\nSubtlety and eloquence, mediation in fact generally as we also find\nit in subordinate spheres, which, albeit immoral elements are therein\ncommingled, nevertheless are appurtenant to the complete range of\nspiritual life--such is the most important province of the activity\nof Hermes, who also leads the shades of the dead to the underworld.\nThe might of war is what mainly distinguishes Ares. Hephaestos is\nconspicuously capable in the technical crafts. The enthusiasm which\nstill carries with it a natural element, the strong emotions which\nwine, sport, and dramatic performances naturally produce are the native\nprovince of Dionysos. The spheres allotted to the feminine divinities\nvery much correspond to the above series. In Here the ethical bond of\nmarriage is the most dominant trait. Ceres is the instructress and\ndeveloper of agriculture, and as such has presented mankind with both\nthose adjuncts to its cultivation, that is to say, first, the care for\nthe nurture of natural products, which satisfy man's immediate wants,\nand, secondly, the spiritual accessories of property, marriage, right,\nthe beginnings of civilization and moral order. In the same way Athene\nis the representative of moderation, good sense[194], legality, the\npower of wisdom, technical capacity in the arts and courageousness, and\ncomprises within her intelligent and warlike maidenhood the concrete\nspirit of the folk, the free and substantive spirit which uniquely\nbelongs to the Athenian state, and places the same before us in\npositive shape as sovereign and godlike power to be revered. Artemis on\nthe contrary, wholly distinct from the Ephesian Diana, possesses the\nmore inflexible independence of maiden modesty for her most essential\ncharacteristic. She loves the chase, and is generally not so much the\nquietly pensive, as the severe and eager-striving maiden. Aphrodite,\ntogether with the charming Cupid, who in his descent from the ancient\nTitan Eros became a boy, is the interpreter of all that the attractions\nand sexual passion effect in our humanity. This, then, is the kind\nof content of the spiritually informed individual gods. In so far\nas we are concerned with their external representation we can only\nrepeat that sculpture is the most important art in this respect, and\nit is carried to the point of this detail of their particularity. If,\nhowever, it is permitted to express that individuality in its more\nspecific determination, it at once passes beyond its primary severe\nloftiness, although even in that case it unites the variety and wealth\nof such individuality under _one_ mode of definition, namely that\nwhich we distinguish as character, and establishes this character in\nits more simple clarity for the envisagement of the senses, in other\nwords for the completest and most final determination of the external\npresentment of these divinities. For the imagination always remains\nrelatively to the external and real existence less distinct, when it\nelaborates, as it also does, as poetry the same content in a number\nof tales, occurrences, and events which concern the gods. For this\nreason sculpture is on the one hand more ideal, while on the other\nit individualizes the character of the gods in perfectly clear human\noutlines, and perfects the anthropomorphism of the classic Ideal. As\nthis presentation of the Ideal in its mode of externality, entirely\nadequate as it unquestionably is to the essentially ideal content it\ndeclares, these figures of Greek sculpture are the Ideals in their\nabsolutely explicit realization; they are the self-subsistent, eternal\nforms, the centre of the plastic beauty of classical art, whose type\npersists as the foundation, even there too, where these figures step\nforth on the planes of definite activity, and appear as affected by the\nrevolutions of particular events.\n\n\n3. THE PARTICULAR INDIVIDUALITY OF THE GODS\n\nIndividuality and its representation is, however, unable to acquiesce\nin that which is still an ever relative and abstract articulation\nof character. A star is exhaustively summarized in the simple laws\nthat control it. A few definite traits may sufficiently characterize\nthe external formation of the world of rocks; but already in the\nvegetable world we are aware of an infinite variety of manifold\nstructure, transition, interfusion, and anomaly. Animal organizations\nare distinguished by a still greater range of difference, and\nconstantly shifting interaction with the external environment to which\nthey are related. And finally, as we rise to the spiritual realm\nand its manifestation, we are conscious of a yet more infinitely\nembracing multiplicity, both of its internal and external existence.\nInasmuch, then, as the classic Ideal does not rest content with purely\nself-possessed individuality, but is further concerned to place the\nsame in motion, to bring the same into relation with something else,\nand to exhibit it as active in such relation--for these reasons the\ncharacter of the gods does not rest stationary in the possession\nof what itself is an essentially still substantive determination,\nbut secures further particular traits of wider extension. The\nself-exclusive movement in the direction of external existence, and\nthe change which is inseparable from it supplies the more intimate\ntraits that constitute the singularity of any particular god, as is\nmeet and fit and withal necessary to complete a living personality. The\naccidental nature of these particular traits is, however, associated\nat the same time with such a type of _singularity_, traits, that is,\nwe are no longer able to refer back to the universal aspect of the\nsubstantive significance. For this reason this particular aspect of\nthe separate divinities approximates to something positive, which can\nconsequently also merely stand about it and continue to resound as an\nexternal accessory.\n\n(_a_) We are therefore at once confronted with the question: \"From\nwhat source is the _material_ secured for this mode of the appearance\nof singularity, and in what manner is this forward process of\nparticularization maintained?\" For the ordinary individual man, for\nhis character out of which he brings his actions to a conclusion, for\nthe events in which he is involved, for the destiny which awaits him,\nthis closest and more positive material is supplied by his external\nconditions, such as the date of his birth, the situation he inherits,\nparents, education, environment, temporal relations, the entire\nprovince, that is, of the conditions of his life as they affect his\nspiritual nature or bodily existence. The present world contains this\nmaterial, and the records of life furnished by different individuals\nare from this point of view characterized by every conceivable\ndifference. It is another matter altogether, however, with the free\nshapes of godlike individuality, which possess no determinate\nexistence in the concrete world of Nature, but have their birth in\nthe cradle of the imagination. For this very reason it is an obvious\nassumption that poets and artists, who, speaking in general terms,\nhave created the Ideal out of their free spiritual bounty, have merely\nborrowed the material for these accidental particular traits from the\ncaprice of their own innate powers of imagination. This assumption is,\nhowever, false. For we assigned in general terms to classical art, the\nposition that its construction in the first instance is, by means of\nthe reaction active in its opposition to the assumptions necessarily\nrequisite to its own peculiar province, carried forward to that which\nas genuine Ideal it is. It is from these presuppositions as their\nsource that the specific traits of particularity are to be looked\nfor, which supply to the gods their closer individual vitality. The\nfundamental features of these assumptions have already been submitted,\nand we have only here to remind our readers shortly of what has been\nalready advanced.\n\n(_\u03b1_) It is the symbolical natural religions which constitute in the\nfirst instance the abundant source which supplies Greek mythology\nwith the primary substratum that we find then modified within it. But\ninasmuch as the traits that are borrowed from such a source have to be\ndistributed among gods that are represented as individuals possessing\nthe life of Spirit, they inevitably lose the essential feature of\ntheir character, in which they passed as symbolical; they have now no\nlonger to retain a significance, which would differ from that which the\nindividual himself presents and makes visible. The previous symbolical\ncontent becomes now, therefore, converted into the content of a divine\nsubject itself, and for the reason that it implies no substantive\nrelation of the god, but is merely an incidental feature, material of\nthis sort falls together into an external tale, some deed or event,\nwhich is ascribed to the gods in this or that particular situation.\nConsequently we find under this head all the symbolical traditions of\nthe earlier sacred poems, which receive, under the modified shape of\nactions proper to a truly self-conscious individuality, the form of\nhuman events and histories, which purport to be accomplished in concert\nwith the gods, and are not merely the inventions of poets as the mood\ndictates. When Homer tells us, for instance, that the gods went off on\na journey to feast for twelve days among the blameless Ethiopians, such\nwould be a poor enough example of inventiveness regarded as the poet's\ninvention alone. It is much the same with the tale of the birth of\nZeus. Kronos, we are told, had devoured all his sons; for this reason\nRhea, his spouse, when she was big with her youngest child Zeus, went\noff to Crete, where she brought forth her son, presenting to Kronos a\nstone to devour instead of her child, whom she swaddled in fur. Later\non Kronos brought up again all his children, his daughters, and along\nwith them Poseidon. This story, regarded as mere invention, would be\nfoolish enough. The remnants of symbolical significance still peer,\nhowever, through it, albeit on account of their having lost their\noriginal character, they come down to us in the guise of external\nhistory. The history of Ceres and Proserpina is on similar lines.\nHere we have the ancient symbolic significance of the disappearance\nand budding forth of the seed of corn. The myth presents this to us\nunder the image as though Proserpina played one day in a valley with\nflowers, and plucked the fragrant narcissus, which from one root opened\nin a hundred blossoms. Then the Earth thunders; Pluto ascends from the\ndepths, lifts the lamenting maiden into his golden car, and bears her\noff to the underworld. Thereon Ceres wandered over the Earth for a\nlong time vainly stricken with a mother's sorrow. Finally Proserpina\nreturned to the upper world; Zeus, however, had only suffered her to do\nthis subject to the command that she must never partake of the food of\nthe gods. Unfortunately she had on one occasion tasted a pomegranate,\nand was therefore only able to remain in the upper world during spring\nand summer. In this tale, too, we find that the symbolical content has\nnot been retained, but has been converted into a human event, which\nsuffers only the more general sense to penetrate through many external\ntraits. In the same way the supplementary names of the gods point\nfrequently to symbolical ground-strata of a similar character, from\nwhich, however, the symbolical form has vanished, and which only serve\nnow to give individuality a more complete characterization.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Local conditions supply a further source for the positive\nparticularities of individual divinities, no less by presenting us with\nthe origin of the conceptions of godhead, than by pointing to the modes\nunder which their services were originally obtained and secured, and\nthe particular places which were in a special sense devoted to their\nworship.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Although, however, the demonstration of the Ideal and its\nuniversal beauty is exalted over the particular locality and its\nunique claims for recognition, and, moreover, has drawn together the\nspecific external aspects in the more general range of the artistic\nimagination into one comprehensive picture which is throughout adequate\nto the substantive significance, yet for all that, when the art of\nsculpture associates the gods, regarded as individuals, with isolated\nrelations and conditions, these particular traits and local colours\ncome frequently also to the fore, in order to reproduce something\nof that individuality, although it is only thus more defined in\nits external aspect. An illustration of this is the way Pausanias\nadduces a mass of ideas, images, pictures, and myths, which he met\nwith in temples, public places, temple treasuries, in any place where\nanything of importance was to be found or otherwise was in the range\nof his experience. In the same way and on the same lines the ancient\ntraditions and local suggestions which have been borrowed from foreign\nsources run along with the home ones in Greek myth; and to all of\nthem more or less a relation has been attached which unites them to\nthe history, creation, and foundations of States, more particularly\nby means of colonization. Forasmuch, however, as this many-sided\nand specific material in the universality of the gods has lost its\noriginal significance, we necessarily come across stories, which\nin their motley and intricate character fail to convey any meaning\nwhatever. As an example we may instance the case where Aeschylus in\nhis \"Prometheus\" presents to us the wanderings of Io in all their\nseverity and external garb without admitting the least suggestion of an\nethical or traditional story, or a natural significance. We find just\nthe same difficulty when we approach the stories of Perseus, Dionysos,\nand others. The most varied and confused kind of material is also run\ninto the tales about Hercules, which forthwith, in such tales, assume\nan entirely human aspect under the guise of chance events, exploits,\npassions, misfortunes, and other untoward occurrences.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) In addition to all this the eternal powers of classical art\nare the universal constituents of the actual embodiment of the\nexistence and actions of Greek _humanity_, from whose national origins\nconsequently in their earliest form, that is, out of the heroic times\nand other traditions, still a very considerable residue of detail\nremains appendant to the gods even in later days. In this way, too,\nmany characteristic features in the intricate tales of their gods\nunquestionably must be referred to historic personages, heroes, older\nfolk-races, natural facts and circumstances attributable to wars,\nbattles, and other matters of a public character. And just as the\nfamily and the distinction of clans is the point of departure of the\nState, the Greeks possessed also their family gods, penates, clan-gods,\nand furthermore the guardian divinities of particular cities and\nstates. In this excessive leaning towards the point of view of history\nthe thesis, however, is apt to be maintained that the origin of the\nGreek gods generally is deducible from such historical facts, heroes,\nand earlier kings. This is a plausible but none the less superficial\nview. Heyne quite in recent times has also given currency to it. In\na way analogous to this a Frenchman, by name Nicholas Fr\u00e9ret, has,\nfor example, accepted the quarrels of different priestly guilds as\nthe general principle underlying the war of the gods. That such a\nhistorical phase in the life of a people may contribute something,\nthat definite clans may have given some effect to their peculiar\nnotions of deity, that likewise different local aspects may have\nafforded further matter in the process of divine individualization--all\nthis may be admitted, no doubt. The real origin of the gods is for\nall that not to be traced to such external material of history, but\nresides in the spiritual potencies of Life, under the guise of which\nthey were conceived. We are consequently only entitled to accept the\nmore extensive play of all that is positive, local, and historical,\nin so far as it makes more definite the formal presentation of each\nparticular individuality.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Inasmuch as, further, the god passes into the sphere of the\nhuman imagination, and, still more important, is represented in real\nbodily shape, into close relations with which again man is placed by\nhis _cultus_ in the activities of divine worship, a fresh material is\nhere, too, presented by such relations for the extension of all that\nis positive and accidental. What animals have to be sacrificed to any\ngod, what vestments the priesthood or the worshipper must appear in,\nwhat particular sequence must be adopted in any ceremonial--by all such\nmatters the most varied and particular incidents are accumulated. For\nevery activity of this kind implies an indefinite number of aspects and\nmodes of arrangement, which may accidentally fall out in this way or\nthat, but which, as appurtenant to a sacred rite, should be something\nsettled, and not fixed by caprice, and which necessarily tend to\npass into the sphere of symbolism. The colour of the vestments is an\nexample of this; in the ritual of Bacchus we have the colour of wine,\nin like manner the doe-skin in which those initiated in the mysteries\nwere enwrapped. The same thing applies to the drapery and attributes\nof the gods, the bow of Pythian Apollo, the whip, the staff, and\nnumberless other accessories. Such things become, however, gradually\na custom and nothing more; no one in the practice of the same thinks\nany longer of their birth history; and all that we now by dint of\nour research point out as their significance, has in the performance\nof them grown to something quite external, which mankind associates\nhimself with on account of the immediate interest, that is, from mere\nsense of fun, delight in the present, devotion, or simply because it\nis just a custom and is so fixed for his active senses, and is done\nin like manner by others. As an example from our own life, when we\nsee our German youth light the Johannis fire in summer time, or play\nantics elsewhere, and throw it at the windows, such is for us a purely\nformal custom, in which the original significance fades as much into\nthe background as at the festal dances of Greek youths and maidens\nthe revolutions of the dance do in their imitative (like the twists\nand turns of some labyrinth) significance of the spiral motions of\nthe planets. Youth does not dance in order to entertain ideas of such\nthings, but the interest limits itself naturally to the dancing and the\ntasteful and graceful festivity of its beautiful motion. The entire\nsignificance, which was created by the original stimulus, and of which\nthe reproduction was for the imagination and sensuous perception of\nsymbolical character, is throughout an imaginative conception, whose\nsingular traits we suffer to pass from us like a fairy story, or as in\nhistorical narrative as external detail relative to Time and Space,\nand of which we can only say: \"It is so,\" or, \"Such is the tale,\" and\nso forth. The interest of art can consequently only consist in this,\nnamely, that it borrow one aspect from the material which has passed\ninto the condition of positive externality, and make the best of\nthis one for an example, which sets the gods before us as concrete,\nliving individuals, merely retaining a distant echo of any profounder\nsignificance.\n\nThis positive aspect is precisely that which endows the Greek gods\nwith the charm of living humanity when the imagination elaborates it\nanew. It is by this latter process that what is otherwise merely of\nsubstantive import, or that of power, is thereby carried into the\nindividual present, which, speaking in general terms, is concentrated\nto a point out of that which is truly explicit or independently actual,\nand which is external and accidental, and thereby the indefinite,\nwhich otherwise is always present in the conception of the gods, is\nlimited in its range and filled out in its content. We are unable to\nattach any additional value to specific tales and particular traits\nof characterization, for this material, which, in its earlier stage\nis, when we look at its primary source, the symbolically significant,\nhas now only remaining the task to perfect the spiritual individuality\nof the gods in their positive sensuous definition in contrast to the\nhuman and to attach to it by virtue of a material which, in respect\nto its content and envisagement, is undivine, the aspect of caprice\nand chance, characteristics inseparable from concrete individuality.\nSculpture, in so far as it presents to our senses the pure ideals of\nthe gods, and is concerned to set before us character and expression\nsolely under the mode of living bodies, can least of all with\nclearness make visible the final result of individualization. It does\nnevertheless give real effect to it within the limits of its own\nprovince, as we may see, for example, in the different treatment of\nheaddress, the mode in which the folds or locks of hair are arranged\nin each particular case; and this is done not merely with a view to\nsymbolical interpretation but in order to individualize. In this way\nHercules has short locks, Zeus an abundant growth which rises above the\nforehead, Diana quite a different folding of the hair to that of Venus.\nPallas, too, is distinguished by the Gorgo on the helmet, and the like\nresult is obtained by means of weapons, girdle, fillets, bracelets, and\nall the variety of other external adornment.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We find as a _third_ and final source of the closer definition\nof divine personality the relation which this occupies to the\nconcrete actual world and its numerous natural phenomena, human\ndeeds and events. For however much we have seen that this spiritual\nindividuality is in part respectively to their universal essence, and\npartly in respect to their particular singularity, the visible result\nof earlier natural foundations which have symbolical significance,\nyet it also persists, if regarded as a spiritually self-subsistent\npersonality, in a relation of continuous, vitality with Nature and\nhuman existence. It is under this point of view, as we have already\nintimated at length, that we have before us the imaginative flow\nof the poet, an ever fertile source of particular tales, traits of\ncharacter and exploits, such as are related us about the gods. The\nartistic aspect of this stage of the process consists in this, that\nthe divine personalities are made to blend in a vital way with human\naffairs, and that the isolated nature of events are without exception\nconceived in association with the universality of the divine, just\nas we ourselves, for example, are wont to say, if in another sense,\nof course, that this or that eventuality comes from God. Even in the\nreality of everyday life, in the natural process of his existence, in\nhis daily wants, fears, and hopes, the Greek took refuge in his gods.\nAt first it was external accidents, which the priesthood accepted as\nomens, and interpreted relatively to his objects and circumstances. If\ndistress and misfortune appeared, the priest had to explain the cause\nof the affliction, to recognize the anger and disposition of the gods,\nand to suggest the means by which the misfortune might be faced. The\npoets proceed yet further in their interpretations for this reason,\nnamely, that they ascribe everything, which is related to a pathos\nuniversal and essential, that is, the moving force in human resolve\nand action, to the gods themselves and their activity; so that the\nactivity of mankind appears likewise as the act of the gods, who fulfil\ntheir own counsels by means of their instrument, man. The material in\nthese poetical expositions is taken from the circumstances of ordinary\nlife, in respect to which the poet lays it down, whether this or that\ngod has expressed his purpose in the event which he is expounding\nand asserted himself actively therein. For this reason poetry to\nan exceptional extent enlarges the range of many specific stories,\nwhich have the gods for their principal subject-matter. We may in\nthis connection recall to our memories several examples which we have\nalready used as illustrations when considering another aspect of our\nsubject, namely, the relation of the universal powers to the practical\npursuits of human personality. Homer places Achilles before us as the\nbravest among the Greeks before Troy. This pre-eminence of his hero he\nexpresses by means of the statement that Achilles is invulnerable in\nevery portion of his body with the single exception of his heel, which\nhis mother was compelled to take hold of when she dipped him in the\nStyx. This tale has its origin in the imagination of the poet who thus\ninterprets the external fact. If we accept this bluntly as though an\nactual fact purported to be expressed therein which the ancients would\nhave believed in the same sense that we believe in any fact on the\nevidence of our senses such a conclusion is a very crude one indeed.\nIt in short amounts to this, that Homer no less than all the Greeks\nand Alexander with them who admired Achilles and praised his fortunes,\nwhich were the main theme of the song of Homer, were simpletons.\nSuch a glorification must inevitably carry such a consequence if\nthe reflection is to hold good that the bravery of Achilles was no\ndifficult matter since he was aware of his invulnerability. But the\nbravery is, in truth, thereby in no way abridged, because he is equally\naware of his early death, and notwithstanding never evades danger,\nhowever it may arise. The like relation is put before us in a very\ndifferent way in the \"Niebelungenlied.\" In that the horned Siegfried\nis likewise invulnerable, but he has also in addition to this his cap\nwhich makes him invisible. When he assists King Gunther thus invisible\nin the fight of the latter with Brunhilde it becomes simply an affair\nof barbaric sorcery which does not enhance very much our opinion either\nof the bravery of Siegfried or King Gunther. No doubt in Homer the gods\nfrequently lend assistance to particular heroes; but the gods merely\nappear on such occasions as the universal concept of that which man\nas an individual himself is and carries out, and to carry out which\nhe must actively employ the entire strength of his heroic endowment.\nIf it had been otherwise the gods would have only found it necessary\nto decimate _en masse_ the Trojan host in battle in order to complete\nat once the triumph of the Greeks. Homer gives us a picture just the\nreverse of this when he describes the main fight as essentially a\ncontest between individuals, and it is only when the press and medley\nin general, when the entire mass of combatants, the collective heart\nof the host clashes in fury, that Ares at length storms over the field\nand gods war against gods. And this is not only generally fine and\nsplendid as an enhancement of the effect, but we may find in it the\nprofounder significance that Homer recognizes the particular heroes in\nwhat is singular and exceptional and the universal potencies and forces\nin the collective effect and the general aspect. In another connection\nHomer permits Apollo to appear on the scene, when the moment arrives\nwhich is fatal to Patroclus who is bearing the invincible armour of\nAchilles[195]. Three times had Patroclus plunged into the crowded host\nof the Trojans, mighty as Ares, and three times he had already slain\nnine men. When he stormed there for the fourth time then it was that\nthe god, enveloped in obscure night, made toward him among the medley\nand smote him on the back and the shoulders, tore away from him his\nhelmet, so that it rolled on the ground, and rang out sharply as it\nstruck the hoofs of the chargers; and the plumes of it were besmirched\nwith blood and dust, which none ever wot of before. Apollo also breaks\nthe brazen spear in his hands, the shield drops from his shoulders, and\nhis armour is loosened on him by the god. This interference of Apollo\nwe may accept as the poetic explanation of the circumstance, that it\nis exhaustion no less than natural death which seizes upon and subdues\nPatroclus in the turmoil and heat of battle at the fourth encounter.\nThen it was that Euphorbus was able to thrust his spear into his\nback between the shoulders. Yet one more time Patroclus endeavoured\nto withdraw from the battle; but Hector had already hastened to meet\nhim, and thrust his spear deep into his side. Then Hector rejoiced and\nmocked the sinking hero. But Patroclus, speaking in low tones, replied\nthat it was Zeus and Apollo who had mastered him, and withal with no\ntrouble, because they had taken his weapons from off his shoulders.\n\"Twenty men such as thou art,\" he exclaims, \"I could have laid low with\nmy spear, but I am slain by fateful necessity and the hand of Apollo.\nThou, Euphorbus, hast but slain me the second time, and thou, Hector,\nbut the third.\" Here, too, we may remark that the appearance of the\ngods simply points to the fact that Patroclus, albeit protected by\nthe armour of Achilles, becomes faint, confounded, and despite of it\nslain. And this is not by any means a superstitious freak or empty play\nof the imagination, or rather a statement which amounts to this[196],\nthat Hector's fame will be detracted from by this interposition of\nApollo, and that even Apollo does not play in the entire affair a\npart which entirely redounds to his honour, since we necessarily take\ninto account the might of the god--speculations of this kind merely\nbetray a superstition of the prosaic mind as destitute of taste as it\nis devoid of reason. For in every case where Homer explains specific\nevents by means of such appearances of the gods the gods use that\nwhich is already immanent in the conscious life of men, the power,\nthat is, of their own passion and observation, or the potentialities\nof the general condition in which the man is placed, the force and the\nfoundation of that which befalls and happens to anyone as a consequence\nof such conditions If it is true that at times traits that are wholly\nexternal and absolutely positive assert themselves in the appearance\nof the gods these in their turn have a comic aspect; as in the case\nwhen the lame Hephaestos goes round as cup-bearer. And generally we may\nsay that Homer never treats the reality of such appearances from first\nto last seriously. At one time we see the gods in action, at another\nthey occupy a station of complete tranquillity. The Greeks were\nfully conscious that it was the poets who were responsible for such\napparitions; and if they believed in them their belief was connected\ndirectly with that spiritual aspect which is equally the possession\nof mankind, forasmuch as it is the universal, the very active and\nmotive principle in the events thus presented. From whatever point of\nview, therefore, we consider the matter it is clear that it is totally\nunnecessary to import superstition either in our own views or in those\nof the Greeks before we can enjoy such poetical representations of\ntheir gods.\n\n(_b_) Such, then, is the general character of the classical Ideal,\nwhose broader development we shall have to consider more succinctly\nwhen we examine the particular arts. Here we have only to add the\nobservation that to whatever extent either gods or men are carried\nin their positive opposition to the particular and external, yet in\nclassical art the affirmative ethical substratum must assert itself\nas maintained. The subjectivity remains throughout in union with the\nsubstantive content of its powers. Just as in Greek art the natural\nelement is preserved in harmony with the spiritual and is likewise\nsubordinated to the ideal content, though it be as adequate existence,\nthe inward heart of our humanity ever presents itself also in a\nthorough identity with the genuine objectivity of Spirit, in other\nwords, with the essential content of what is moral and true. Regarded\nfrom this point of view, the classic Ideal is unaware of the separation\nof ideality from external presentment and of the rending of the\nsubjective and consequently abstract individual caprice in its various\nobjects and passions, and it is no less so, on the other hand, of the\nabstract universal as thereby created. The foundations of character\nmust, consequently, always be the substantive, and what is bad, sinful\nand evil in the self-housed dwelling of subjectivity is excluded\nfrom classical representations. And above all else the harshness,\nwickedness, meanness, and hideousness which finds a place in romantic\nart, will be wholly alien to it. It is true, we find many instances\nof transgression, matricide, patricide and other crimes against the\nlove of family and piety treated as the subject-matter of Greek art;\nbut they are not here regarded simply as atrocities, or, as a little\nwhile since it was the fashion among ourselves, as brought about by\nthe inscrutability of a so-called fatality which imports the appearance\nof a necessary result. Rather, if such transgressions are committed\nby mankind and in part ordered and defended by the gods themselves,\nsuch actions are on every occasion presented to us from some point of\nview at least in a light which declares a certain justification truly\narising out of the subject-matter itself.\n\n(_c_) Despite this substantive foundation we have seen the general\nelaboration of the gods of classical art manifest itself out of the\nrepose of the Ideal within the variety of the individual and external\nembodiment, in all the detail of events, occurrences, and actions,\nwhich become ever and ever more human. By this means classical art\nfinally, if we consider its content, carries yet further the process\nof _articulating_ the accidental individualization, when we consider\nit as a mode of making the same _pleasurable_ and attractive. In other\nwords that which pleases is the elaboration of the particular aspect of\nthe external phenomenon at every point of the same; by this means the\nwork of art no longer arrests the spectator merely in its connection\nwith his own concrete soul-life, but also contains many affiliating\nlinks with the finite aspect of his subjectivity. For it is precisely\nin the finiteness of the art-creation that the closer association\nsubsists with that aspect of the individual which is itself finite, and\nwhich rediscovers itself once more with satisfaction in every respect\nas mobile and stable existence in the art-product. The seriousness of\nthe gods becomes a grace, which does not agitate with violence or lift\na man over his ordinary existence, but suffers him to persist there\ntranquil, and simply claims to bring him content. Just as we generally\nfind that the imagination when it masters religious conceptions, and\nendows them with a form appropriate to its notions of beauty, has a\ntendency to make the earnest character of devotion disappear, and in\nthis respect destroys religion strictly as religion; so, too, this very\nprocess moves forward at the stage we are discussing for the most part\nby the addition of that which is agreeable and pleases. For it is not\nby any means the substantial aspect, the significance of the gods, or\ntheir universal character, which is evolved by virtue of what delights.\nRather it is the finite side, their sensuous existence and subjective\ninward life, which purports to awake interest and provide satisfaction.\nThe more, therefore, the charm of the existence reproduced is the\ndominant factor in its beauty to that extent the gracefulness is\ndisentwined from the embrace of the universal and removed from the\ncontent, through which alone the profounder penetration could rest\nsatisfied.\n\nThe transition to another province of the forms of art is closely\nunited with this externality and articulate definition. For under the\nmode of externality reposes the manifold of the finite condition; a\nmanifold which, so soon as it secures a free field, asserts itself\nfinally in opposition to the spiritual Idea, its universality and\ntruth, and begins to rouse up the dissatisfaction of thought in a\nreality which is no longer adequate to express it.\n\n[Footnote 180: Chapter XLIX.]\n\n[Footnote 181: I presume this is the sense of that difficult word _des\nInneren_ here.]\n\n[Footnote 182: By \"absolute\" I presume Hegel means here absolute in\nthe sense of predominant, masterful--activity such as the Greek artist\npossessed.]\n\n[Footnote 183: \"Iliad,\" I, vv. 9-12.]\n\n[Footnote 184: _Ibid._ vv. 94-100.]\n\n[Footnote 185: \"Odyssey,\" XXIV, vv. 41-63.]\n\n[Footnote 186: That is, Thetis.]\n\n[Footnote 187: _Bestimmte sittliche Substanz._]\n\n[Footnote 188: _Das reine Insichseyn._]\n\n[Footnote 189: _Ein ewiger Ernst._]\n\n[Footnote 190: I presume this refers to some drapery or curtains round\nthe bust as exhibited.]\n\n[Footnote 191: This is the meaning of _Heiterkeit_ here rather than\n\"cheerfulness,\" though _Seligkeit_ is the usual word.]\n\n[Footnote 192: _G\u00f6ttliche Universum._ A rather curious expression for,\nI presume, the ideal totality of the Divine Being.]\n\n[Footnote 193: _Der geistigen absoluten Innerlichkeit._ Lit., \"the\nspiritual and absolute mode of the inward life.\" He refers, of course,\nto Christianity, with its life of the pure in heart and the pure\nreason.]\n\n[Footnote 194: _Besonnenheit._]\n\n[Footnote 195: \"Iliad,\" XVI, vv. 783-849.]\n\n[Footnote 196: I very much doubt whether the words _Sondern das Gerede\nallein_ can have this meaning, but the obvious meaning, \"but only the\ngossip,\" hardly makes sense. I think the sentence requires revision.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE DISSOLUTION OF THE CLASSICAL TYPE OF ART\n\nThe gods of classical art contain in themselves the germ of their\noverthrow; consequently, when this fatal defect which they include is\nbrought to consciousness through the elaboration of art itself, they\nbring about the dissolution of the classical Ideal at the same time.\nWe established as the principle of this, so far as we have here to\ndeal with it, that kind of spiritual individuality which secures in\nevery respect an adequate expression in bodily or external existence\nimmediate to our senses. This individuality was enclosed within a\ncomplex of divine personalities, whose definition is not essentially\nand withal from the first given up to the contingent condition in which\nthe everlasting gods receive the appearance of dissolution for man's\nconscious life no less than for his artistic creation.\n\n1. FATE OR DESTINY\n\nIt is true that sculpture in its complete plastic perfection accepts\nthe gods as substantive potencies, and endows them with a form in whose\nbeauty they in the first instance repose in security, for the reason\nthat the accidental character, of their external envisagement is to\nthe least extent emphasized. Their _multiplicity_ and _distinction_\ndoes in fact, however, constitute this element of contingency, and\nthought annuls this in the determinate conception of _one_ divinity,\nthrough whose inevitable power they are mutually at war with and to\nthe detriment of each other. For however universal the power of every\nparticular god is conceived as specific individuality, such is of a\nrestricted range. Add to this the fact that the gods do not continue\nin their eternal repose; they are self-determined relatively to\nparticular aims in actual movement through their being drawn hither\nand thither by the pre-existing conditions and collisions of concrete\nreality, in order at one time to afford assistance and at another\nto obstruct or destroy. These isolated relations in which the gods\nas active individuals participate contain within them an element of\ncontingency, which impairs the substantive nature of the divine,\nhowever much the same may persist as the predominant substratum, and\ninvolves the gods in the contradictions and conflicts of a limited\nfinitude. By reason of this finiteness immanent in the gods themselves\nthey fall into contradiction with the loftiness, worth, and beauty of\ntheir existence, through which, too, they are eventually brought down\nto the level of mere caprice and chance. The genuine Ideal evades the\ncomplete appearance of this contradiction simply and in so far as--this\nis preeminently the case in true sculpture and its particular creations\nas we find them in temples--the divine personalities are represented as\nexplicitly alone in the repose of blessedness, yet retain, as we have\nalready above indicated, a certain aspect of lifelessness, somewhat\naloof from all emotion, and withal that quiet characteristic of\npathetic lament. It is just this mournfulness which exposes their fate\nby demonstrating that something of higher import stands above them, and\nthe passage from the particularities of form to their comprehending\nunity is a necessary one. If, however, we fix our attention on the type\nand configuration of this loftier unity we shall find that it is, as\ncontrasted with the individuality and relative determination of the\ngods, the essentially abstract and formless--the necessity, the fate,\nwhich under this mode of abstraction the higher can only in general\nterms be, and which constrains both gods and men, while remaining in\nitself incomprehensible and inconceivable. Fate is not as yet absolute\nand self-subsistent end, and thereby at the same time subjective,\npersonal, divine purpose, but merely the one and universal Power which\ntranscends the particularity of the different gods, and consequently is\nunable to be presented itself as individual entity; because otherwise\nit would simply appear as one among many individuals, and would stand\nabove them. For this reason it remains without form and individuality,\nand is in this abstraction merely necessity and nothing more; with\nwhich gods no less than men, when they differentiate themselves as\nseparate from one another, contend. And thus they give effect to their\nindividual power condemned though it be to limitations, and would fain\nexalt themselves over the bounds and warrant of Fate, though they\nare, in fact, its subjects, and are forced to hearken to all that\nunalterably befalls them.\n\n\n2. THE DISSOLUTION OF THE GODS THROUGH THEIR ANTHROPOMORPHISM\n\nFor the reason, then, that the principle of self-determinate\nNecessity[197] does not appertain to the particular gods, does not\nsupply in other words the content of their self-determination, and\nonly floats over them as an undefined abstraction, the aspect of their\ninsularity as individuals has consequently free play and is unable to\nescape from Destiny, is moreover at liberty to branch out into the\nexternal fabric of the human condition, into the finite consistency of\nanthropomorphism, possibilities which convert the gods into the reverse\nof that condition which truly constitutes the notion of what they are\nessentially and in virtue of their divine nature. The overthrow of\nthese gods of beauty is consequently quite inevitably brought about for\nart through their own nature. The human consciousness is at last quite\nunable to find repose in them, and is fain compelled to take leave of\nthem. And, moreover, if we look more closely we shall find that the\nmode and type of Greek anthropomorphism supplies us with a general\nexample of how the gods vanish away from the faiths of religion no less\nthan those of poetry.\n\n(_a_) Spiritual individuality here makes its appearance in the human\nform, it is true, as Ideal; but for all that it is in the immediately\nvisible, that is, the bodily presence, not within humanity in all its\nessential explication, under the mode in which it is conscious of\nitself in its own self-conscious world as distinct from God, while in\nthe same breath it annuls the distinction, and is, by its own act, as\none with God, essentially infinite and absolute self-consciousness.\n\n(_\u03b1_) For this reason the plastic Ideal is unable to present itself\nas infinite self-conscious spirituality. These plastic shapes of\nbeauty are not merely stone and bronze, but also the infinite form of\nsubjective life vanishes from them in their content and expression.\nWe may become as enthusiastic as we please over their beauty and art,\nbut for all that our _enthusiasm_ is and remains something native\nto our own souls; it is not really at home in the objects which it\nthus contemplates, that is in the gods themselves. To complete the\ntrue totality a real reciprocity is required on this side also of the\nsubjective, self-knowing unity and infinity; it is this, and only this,\nthat unfolds our conception of a living God of knowledge, and of men\nwho thus apprehend Him. If this totality is not also essentially and\nwith adequacy conformable to the content and nature of the Absolute,\nthen the Absolute will itself appear not as truly a subject of\nspiritual being, and its presentment will confront us merely in its\nobjective form without the possession of self-conscious Spirit. It is\nquite true, no doubt, that the individuality of the gods retains the\ncontent of subjectivity, but merely under modes that are contingent,\nand in a process of development,' which moves independently outside\nthat substantive repose and blessedness of the gods.\n\n(_\u03b2_) On the other hand, the subjectivity which is opposed to the\ngods of plastic art is also not the form of conscious life which is\nessentially eternal and true. In other words, this latter is--as we\nshall see for ourselves more clearly in our consideration of the third\ntype of art, the romantic--that which has before it the objectivity to\nwhich it is conformable under the mode of an essentially infinite and\nself-knowing God. Inasmuch, however, as the knowing subject, at the\nstage we are now discussing, does not consciously conceive itself as\npresent in the perfections of these godlike figures, nor even in its\ncontemplation of such objects is aware of itself as circumstantially\nobjective, it is still wholly distinct and separate from its absolute\nobject, and is consequently a purely contingent and finite subjectivity.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We might possibly suppose that the passage into a higher sphere\nof reality would have been emphasized by the imagination and art as a\nfurther war among the gods, in a way analogous, in fact, to the first\ntransition from the symbolism of the gods of Nature to the spiritual\nIdeals of classical art. This is by no means the case. On the contrary,\nthis translation is carried forward in a wholly different field, as a\nconflict brought home to consciousness between absolute reality and\nthe present world. For this reason art, in its relation to the higher\ncontent, which it has to seize under new modes, occupies an entirely\naltered position. This new configuration does not assert its importance\nas revelation by means of Art, but is made manifest independently\nwithout it, and appears on the prosaic ground of controversial and\nrational discussion, and from thence is within the soul and its\nreligious emotions, mainly by means of miracle, martyrdoms, and so\non, carried into the world of subjective knowledge, together with a\nconsciousness of the contradiction between all that is finite and\nthe Absolute, which unfolds itself in actual history as the process\nof events toward a Present which is not merely imagined, but is the\n_fact_ we have before us. The Divine, God Himself, becomes flesh, is\nborn, lives, suffers, dies, and rises from the dead. This is a content\nwhich heart did not discover, but which, quite apart from it, was a\npresent fact, and which consequently it has not borrowed from its own\ndomain, but merely supplies a form to it. That old transition and war\nof the gods, on the contrary, discovered its origins in the artistic\nor imaginative view of the world simply, which created its wisdom and\nplastic shapes from its inner life, and gave to astonished mankind his\nnew gods. For this reason the classic gods also have only received\ntheir existence through the fiat of the imagination, and merely exist\nas such in stone and bronze, or in the world open to the senses,\nnot, however, in flesh and blood, or in very and actual Spirit. The\nanthropomorphism of the Greek gods is therefore without real human\nexistence, that of body no less than that of Spirit. It is Christianity\nwhich first introduces us to this reality in flesh and blood as the\ndeterminate existence, life, and activity of God Himself. Consequently\nthis bodily form, this flesh, however much also the purely natural and\nsensuous is recognized as a negation therein, receives its due and\nhonour, and that which partakes of anthropomorphism here is sanctified.\nEven as man originally was made in the image of God, God is an image\nof man; whoso beholdeth the Son beholdeth the Father, and whoso loveth\nthe Son loveth the Father. In a word, God is acknowledged as present\nin the actual world. This new content, then, is not brought home to\nconsciousness by means of the conceptions of art, but is presented from\nan exterior source as an actual occurrence, as the history of the God\nwho became flesh. A transition such as this could not take its point of\ndeparture from Art; the contrast between the old and the new would have\nbeen too disparate. The God of revealed religion, in respect to content\nand form, is very God in truth, in contrast with whom all rivals would\nbecome mere creations of the imagination, whom it would be quite\nimpossible to compare with Him on equal terms. The old and new gods of\nclassical art, on the contrary, originate in both cases independently\nfrom the ground of the imagination. They have only such reality from\nthe finite Spirit as enables them to be conceived and represented as\npotencies of Nature and Spirit; the contradiction and conflict they\ndeclare, is taken seriously. If, however, the transition from the Greek\ngods to the God of Christendom were portrayed in the first instance by\nArt, the representation of such a war of gods could not in this direct\nform be enforced in all seriousness.\n\n(_b_) Consequently this strife and transition becomes also, in more\nrecent times, primarily an accidental, isolated subject-matter of art,\nwhich can claim to create no true epoch, and has been able in this form\nto embody no fundamental phase in the line of the entire development\nof art. We will recall here in this connection, if incidentally, a\nfew of the more famous examples of this nature. We frequently hear\nin more recent times the lament over the submergence of Greek art,\nand a yearning towards Greek gods and heroes is not infrequently the\ntheme of our poets[198]. This lamentation is expressed emphatically\nas in direct opposition to Christendom; and though it is, no doubt,\ngenerally granted that it contains the higher truth, the qualification\nis added that, so far as art is concerned, the transition is only\nto be regretted. This is the theme of Schiller's \"Gods of Greece\";\nand it is worth our while, even in the present inquiry, to consider\nthis poem, not merely as poetry in the beauty of its exposition, its\nmusical rhythm, its vivid pictures, or in the charm of its regretful\nmood, which was the motive force in its creation, but also in order to\nexamine the content. Schiller's pathos is always true, no less than\npoignant, and the result of profound reflection.\n\nIt is perfectly true that the Christian religion contains, and may\njustly claim to accentuate, a certain phase of art; but in the due\ncourse of its development, at the time of the Aufkl\u00e4rung[199], it\nhas also reached a point where we find that thought, or rather the\nUnderstanding[200], has driven into the background that element,\nwhich art pre-eminently requires, the actual human envisagement and\nrevelation of God. For the human form and all that it expresses and\ndeclares, human events, actions, feeling, is the form under which art\nis forced to conceive and represent the content of Spirit. Inasmuch as\nthe Understanding has converted God into a mere fact of thought, no\nlonger crediting the appearance of His Spirit in concrete reality, and\nthus has alienated the God of Thought from all actual existence, this\ntype of religious Illumination has necessarily accepted conceptions\nand requirements which are intolerable to Art. When, however, the\nUnderstanding is raised once more from the region of these abstractions\ninto that of Reason, the need at once asserts itself for something\nmore concrete, and withal for that kind of concreteness which Art\nitself unfolds. The period of the illuminating Understanding has, no\ndoubt, possessed an art of its own, but only of very prosaic type,\nas we may even find it in Schiller, whose point of departure was\nprecisely that of such a period of criticism; later on, however,\nowing to his realization how little reason, imagination, and passion\nwere satisfied by the critical Understanding, he experienced a deep\nlonging for art, in the fullest sense of the term, and primarily for\nthe classical art of the Greeks and their gods, and general views of\nthe world. It is from this kind of yearning, a reaction, in short,\nfrom the mere abstractions of the mind, that the poem referred to\noriginated. According to the original draft of the poem, Schiller's\nattitude to Christianity is entirely polemical; afterwards he modified\nit considerably, no doubt realizing that its _animus_ was only directed\nagainst the critical aspect of the Illumination, which at a later time\nitself began to lose its importance. In the first instance he praises\nthe Greek point of view as fortunate in that the whole of Nature was a\nthing of Life to it, and full of divinities. After that he reviews the\nPresent and its prosaic conception of natural law, and the position man\nhere takes relatively to God:\n\n/$\n                  Diese traur'ge Stille\n     K\u00fcndigt sie mir meinen Sch\u00f6pfer an?\n     Finster wie er selbst ist seine H\u00fclle,\n     Mein _Entsagen_, was ihn feiern kann[201].\n$/\n\nNo doubt resignation is an essential characteristic in the evolution\nof the Christian life; but it is only in the monkish conception of it\nthat it requires he should cut off from himself his soul, his emotions,\nthe so-called impulses of his Nature, and should not incorporate his\nlife in the moral, rational, actual world, the family and the State;\nand it does so precisely as the Illumination and its Deism, which\npresupposes that God is unknowable, imposes on mankind the extremest\nform of resignation, namely, that of abandoning all effort either to\nknow or conceive Him. In any true exposition of Christian doctrine,\nresignation is, on the contrary, merely a phasal moment of mediation, a\npoint of transition, in which that which is purely natural, sensuous,\nand in general terms finite, strips off this its incompatible nature in\norder to permit Spirit to attain the loftier freedom and reconciliation\nof its own possessions, a freedom and blessedness which was unknown\nto the Greeks. In Christianity as thus understood we are not entitled\nto speak of the celebration of the one God, of the bare seclusion of\nHimself, and the cutting ourselves adrift from an ungodly world, for it\nis precisely in this spiritual freedom and reconciliation of Spirit\nthat God is immanent, and from this point of view the famous lines of\nSchiller:\n\n/$\n     Da die G\u00f6ttes menschlicher noch waren,\n     Waren Menschen g\u00f6ttlicher[202].\n$/\n\nis absolutely false. We must for this very reason emphasize the later\nalteration made in the concluding lines which refer thus to the Greek\ngods:\n\n/$\n     Aus der Zeitfluh weggerissen schweben\n     Sie gerettet auf des Pindus H\u00f6hn;\n     Was unsterblich im Gesang soll leben,\n     Muss im Leben untergehn[203].\n$/\n\nThese words support entirely the assertion we have made above that\nthe Greek gods could only be localized in the mental conception and\nimagination; they were neither able to affirm such a position in the\nreality of life, nor satisfy in the long run finite spirit.\n\nOf another sort is the opposition of Parny to Christianity--a poet\nnamed the French Tibullus on account of his successful elegies--which\nis conspicuous in a prolix poem of ten cantos, a kind of epic poem\nentitled \"La Guerre des Dieux,\" as an attempt made to bring ridicule\nupon Christian conceptions in the interests of jest and comedy carried\nout in a tone of unrestrained frivolity, yet withal marked by good\nhumour and considerable talent. The sallies of wit here are not,\nhowever, carried beyond the point of levity; we have few traces of\nthe wanton disregard of things that are sacred and of the highest\nexcellence such as marks the period of Frederick von Schlegel's\n\"Lucinde.\" The Virgin Mary no doubt is treated very badly in this poem.\nThe monks, Dominicans and Franciscans, yield to the seductions of wine\nand Bacchanals, and the nuns do much the same with Fauns, and the\nresult is sufficiently shocking. Finally, however, the gods of the old\nworld are vanquished and withdraw from Olympus to Parnassus.\n\nAs a concluding illustration Goethe in his \"Bride of Corinth\" has\nmore profoundly depicted in a vivacious picture the banishment of\nlove, not so much as the result of any true principle of Christianity\nas the misconceived interpretation of resignation and sacrifice. The\npoet here contrasts that false asceticism which seeks to condemn the\ndetermination of a woman to be wife and rates that enforced celibacy\nas something more holy than marriage with the natural feelings of\nmankind. Just as we find in Schiller the opposition between the Greek\nimagination and the critical abstractions of our modern Enlightenment,\nso we may detect here the Hellenistic ethical and sensuous\njustifications in the matter of love and marriage, placed in direct\ncontrast to ideas which can only claim to belong to the Christian\nreligion when regarded from a wholly one-sided and therefore incorrect\npoint of view. With the greatest art a really horrible tone dominates\nthe entire work; and the principal reason is this, that it remains\nquite uncertain whether the action has reference to a real maiden, or\na dead one, a living reality or a ghost; and in the metre of the verse\nitself in an equally masterly way the threads of light foolery and\nseriousness are so interwoven as to make the uncanniness still more\neffective.\n\n(_c_) Before, however, we attempt to gauge in its profundity the new\ntype of art, whose opposition to the old does not come into the course\nof Art's development, so far, at least, as we here have undertaken to\nfollow it along its fundamental lines, we must in the first instance\nmake clear for ourselves that other transition in its earliest form,\nwhich attaches to antique art itself. The principle of this transition\nconsists in this, that the Spirit whose individuality hitherto has been\ncontemplated as in harmony with the true subsistency of Nature and\nhuman life, and which, in respect to its own life, volition, and acts,\nwas consciously at home in that accord, begins now to withdraw itself\ninto the infinite subjectivity of its essence, but instead of the true\ninfinity is only able to secure a purely formal and indeed still finite\nreturn upon itself.\n\nIf we look more closely at the concrete conditions which correspond to\nthe principle indicated, we shall see, we have already done so, that\nthe Greek gods possess as their content the substantive _materiae_ of\nreal human life and action. Over and above the vision of the gods we\nhave now the highest mode of determination, the universal interest and\nthe end in determinate life, that is to say, presented at the same\ntime as an existing fact. Just as it was essential to the spiritual\nconfiguration of Greek art to appear both as external and real, so,\ntoo, the spiritual growth of mankind in its absolute significance\nhas elaborated itself in a reality that both externally appears and\nis real, with whose substance and universality the individual has\nput forward a claim to be in accordant fusion. This highest end was\nin Greece the life of the State, the collective body of citizens and\ntheir morality and living patriotism. Outside this supreme interest\nthere was no other more lofty or true. The life of the State, however,\nas an external phenomenon of the world, fades into the Past, as do\nthe conditions of the entire reality of the outside world. It is not\ndifficult to demonstrate that a State under the type of such a freedom,\nso immediately identical with all its citizens, which as such already\npossess in their grasp the highest activity in all public transactions,\nis inevitably small and weak, and in part must prove suicidal to\nitself, in part fall into ruins in the natural course of the history\nof nations. In other words, by reason of this immediate coalescence of\nindividual life with the universality of State-life, on the one hand\nwe find that the peculiar idiosyncrasies of spiritual experience and\nits particular aspects as private life do not receive their full dues,\nnor do they receive sufficient opportunity for a development innocuous\nto society at large. Rather, as distinct from the concrete substance,\ninto which it has not been accepted, such a nature remains simply the\nlimited and natural egoism, which goes on its own way independently,\npursues its interests however much they are alien to the true interest\nof the whole, and, consequently, is an instrument to the ruin of\nthe State, against which, in the last resort, it strains to oppose\nits individual forces. On the other hand within the circle of this\nfreedom itself the need of a higher personal liberty is roused, which\nnot merely in the State, as the substantive totality, nor merely in\nthe accepted code of morals and law, but in the very soul of the man\nhimself asserts its claim to exist, in so far as he is ready to give\nlife to goodness and rectitude out of the wealth of his own nature and\nin the light of his own personal knowledge, and to recognize the same\nat its real worth. The individual subject demands of consciousness that\nit should be, in virtue of its claim as self-identity, a substantive\nwhole. Consequently there arises in this freedom a new breach between\nthe end of the State and that of the man's own personal welfare as\nessentially free himself. Such a conflict as this had already begun in\nthe time of Socrates, while on the other side the vanity, self-seeking\nand unbridled character of democracy and demagogy corrupted the true\nState to such a degree that men like Plato and Xenophon experienced a\nloathing for the internal condition of their mother-city, where the\ndirection of all public transactions lay in the hands of those who were\neither frivolous, or those who sought nothing but personal aims.\n\nThe spirit of this transition, therefore, depends in the first\ninstance on the general line of severation between Spirit in its\nunfolded self-subsistency and external existence. The spiritual in\nthis separation from its reality, in which it no longer finds itself\nreflected, is then the abstract mode of Spirit; it is not, however, the\none Oriental god, but on the contrary the actual self-knowing conscious\nsubject, which brings to the fore and retains within the clasp of\nits ideal subjectivity all that is universal in thought, truth,\ngoodness, and morality, and possesses therein not so much the knowledge\nof a pre-existing reality as simply the content of its thoughts\nand convictions. This relation, in so far as it persists in this\nopposition, and sets up the two aspects of the same as purely opposites\nto one another, would be of an entirely prosaic character. We do not,\nhowever, at this stage as yet arrive at this point of bare prose. In\nother words it is true that on the one hand we have a consciousness\npresent, which as self-secure, wills the Good, the fulfilment of its\ndesires, conceives the reality of its notion in the virtue of its\nemotional life, much as we find it thus imaged in the ancient gods,\nmorals, and laws. At the same time, however, this consciousness is\nsplit up in opposition to its existence as part of existing Life, in\nother words the actual political life of the time, the dissolution\nof the old modes of conception, the former type of patriotism and\npolitical wisdom, and adheres thereby unquestionably to that opposition\nbetween the inward life of soul and the real environment outside it.\nAnd the reason of this hesitancy is this that the bare conceptions\nof genuine ethical truth which it derives from its own inner world\nare unable to fully satisfy it; it consequently faces that which is\nexterior to this, to which it relates itself in a negative and hostile\nspirit with the object of changing it. This consciousness is, as\nalready stated, on the one hand no doubt an inward and present content,\nwhich, self-determined and at the same time deliberately articulate,\nis concerned with a world that confronts it, to which this content is\nopposed, and which receives the task to depict this same reality in\nthe semblance of the very traits of the corruption peculiar to that\nworld, and which form such a contrast with its own ideas of goodness\nand truth. From another point of view this very contrast is cancelled\nby art itself. In other words, another type of art arises, in which the\nconflict of this opposition is not emphasized through the medium of\nmere thoughts, remaining thus in its disunion; but this reality in the\nvery folly of its corruption is itself submitted to a mode of artistic\npresentation, which exposes it as self-destructive, and exposes it in\nsuch a way that it is precisely in and through this self-destructive\nprocess of what is of no weight that truth is enabled to assert itself\nupon this mirror as the secure and endurable power, and thereby all the\nforce of a direct opposition to what is essentially true is removed\nfrom that side represented by folly and unreasonableness. This art is\ncomedy, of the type Aristophanes dramatized for his fellow-citizens,\nconnecting it closely with all that was essential in the world around\nhim, and doing so with equanimity[204], in a mood of pure and hearty\njoviality.\n\n\n3. SATIRE\n\nWe may, however, observe that this resolution of art, despite its\nadequacy, tends to disappear to this extent, that the contradictory\nantithesis persists in the form of its _opposition_, and, consequently,\ninstead of the poetic reconciliation a prosaic relation is imported,\nby means of which the classical type of art appears to be annulled, and\nthe gods of plastic shape no less than the entire world of human beauty\nvanish with it. We have, then, now to look about us for a form of art,\nwhich is able to reclothe itself from the ruins of this overthrow in\na loftier configuration and to extract the real significance which it\nimplies. We discovered as the terminating point of symbolic art in\nthe same way that the separation of pure form from its significance\nwas emphasized in a variety of modes such as simile, fable, parable,\nriddle, and the like. Inasmuch as the severation above adverted to is\ncausally responsible for the dissolution of that art-type, in a similar\nway the question arises what is the nature of the distinction between\nour present example of transition as contrasted with the previous one.\nThe distinction is as follows:\n\n(_a_) In the truly symbolic and comparative type of art the form and\nsignificance are from the very first, despite the affinity of their\nrelationship, alien to one another; they are placed, however, in no\nmere negative, but rather in amicable relationship; for it is precisely\nthe qualities and traits which are identical to or resemble each other\non the two sides which assert themselves as the causal basis of their\nconjunction and comparison. Their persistent separation and hostility\nis consequently within the bounds of this union neither, relatively to\nthe separated aspects, of a _hostile_ character, nor is a blending of\nthe same, within essentially narrow limits, thereby removed from them.\nThe Ideal of classical art, on the contrary, proceeds from the perfect\ninterfusion of significance and form, the ideal individuality of spirit\nand its external conformation; and when the composite aspects which\nhave been brought together in such a consummated unity are disrupted,\nthis disruption takes place simply because they are unable any longer\nto cohere one with the other, and are absolutely compelled to start\nforth from their peaceful state of harmony in disunion and hostility.\n\n(_b_) Together with this way of looking at the relation in contrast\nto that of symbolic art we may add that the _content_ of both sides\nis altered, as they now stand in opposition. To put it thus we may\nsay that, in the symbolic type of art, it is abstractions more or\nless, general thoughts, or at least definite phrases in the form of\ngeneralities peculiar to reflective thought, which, by means of the\nsymbolic type of art, receive a sensuous embodiment replete with\nsuggestion. In the form, however, which makes itself predominant in\nthis transition to romantic art the content, it is true, is made up\nof a similar abstraction of general thoughts, opinions, and maxims of\nreflective reason, but in this case it is not these abstractions in\nthemselves, but rather their presence in the _individual's_ mind and\nhis self-subsistent identity which furnish the content for one side of\nthe opposition. For the primary requirement of this mediating stage\nconsists in this, that the spiritual which has attained the Ideal,\nshall stand forth in its entire independence. Already in classical\nart we found that spiritual individuality was of chief importance,\nalbeit on the side of its realization it remained reconciled with a\ndeterminate existence as immediately presented. What is of importance\nnow is to declare a mode of subjectivity which strives to acquire the\nmastery over the form that is no longer adequate to it, in a word, over\nexternal reality. In this way the world of Spirit becomes liberated as\nindependent. It recovers itself from bondage to the sensuous material\nand manifests itself thereby through this return upon its own resources\nas the subject of a self-consciousness which only finds contentment\nin the secret wealth of its own domain. This subject, however, which\nrepels externality from itself, is not in respect to its ideal aspect\nyet the truly concrete totality which encloses as content the Absolute\nunder the mode of self-conscious spiritual life; rather it is, as still\nfettered by its opposition to reality, a purely abstract, finite,\nand unsatisfied form of subjectivity. In opposition to this we have\nconfronting it an equally finite mode of reality, which on its part is\nalso independent, but just for that very reason--forasmuch, that is,\nas the truth of Spirit has withdrawn from it into its own ideality and\nhenceforward neither will nor can identity itself with it, appears as\na reality void of all gods and an existence fallen into rottenness. In\nthis manner and at this point art brings forward a Spirit that thinks,\nthat is, to repeat our former analysis, the individual consciousness\nof our humanity, which, supporting itself on its own possession of the\nabstract knowledge and volition of goodness and virtue, confronts\nwith hostility therewith the corruption of its present environment.\nThat aspect of this opposition which remains unresolved, and in which\nthe ideal and external modes of its antithesis persist in their\ndisruption, constitutes the element of prose in the mutual relation of\nthe two sides. A noble mind or a virtuous soul to whom the realization\nof self-conscious life is denied in a world of vice and folly, turns\naway from the existence which thus confronts him with passionate\nindignation, or more subtle wit and more frosty bitterness, and either\nis wroth with or scorns a world which gives the lie direct to his\nabstract notions of virtue and truth.\n\nThe type of art which accepts this sudden outburst of opposition\nbetween a subjectivity still finite in its mode and a degenerate world\noutside it as its matter is the _Satire_, the ordinary theories as to\nwhich have little to commend them, for the simple reason that they\nbreak down precisely where we look for their assistance. Satire has\nnothing to do with epic poetry, and it has just as little affinity\nwith lyric. In the Satire it is not the life of the emotional nature\nwhich is expressed; rather the general conception of goodness and what\nis essentially needful, which it no doubt blends with the particular\naspect of soul-life[205], appears as the virtuousness of this or that\nindividual; but this does not suffer itself to be enjoyed in the open\nand unhampered beauty of imaginative conception or let that enjoyment\nissue freely. Rather with discontent it retains the existing discord\nbetween the writer's own state of mind and its abstract principles\nand the empirical reality which mocks them. To this extent satire\nis neither a genuine creation of the poet nor a real work of art.\nFor these reasons the point of view of the satirical poem can never\nbe reached satisfactorily through those other types of poetry just\nmentioned; it must be apprehended in a more general way as the example\nof this very transitional form we referred to from the classic Ideal.\n\n(_c_) Inasmuch, then, as it is, relatively to its ideal content, the\nprosaic resolution of the Ideal, which asserts itself mainly in\nsatire, we do not find that Greece, which is pre-eminently the native\nland of Beauty, is the place where we must look for it. Satirical\npoems of the nature above described are the characteristic possession\nof Rome. The spirit of the Roman world is the sovereignty of the\nabstract Ideal, the law that is dead, the shipwreck of beauty and of\nthe joyousness of civic life, the suppression of the family in the\nsense that it is the immediate and most natural form of morality, and\ngenerally the sacrifice of individuality, which surrenders itself\nwholly to the State, and in obedience to the abstract law is satisfied\nwith the frost-like sense of political worth and critical satisfaction\nwhich it supplies. The principle of this civic virtue, the cold-blooded\nharshness of which subjects to its pleasure all alien peoples, while\nthe formal rectitude of the personal life is elaborated to the furthest\npoint of consistency on equally rigid lines, is wholly inconsonant\nwith genuine art. We find, therefore, even in Rome no art that is at\nonce conspicuous in its beauty, freedom, and greatness. It is from\nthe Greeks that the Romans borrowed all that they mastered whether\nin sculpture or painting, epic, lyric, or dramatic poetry. It is a\nremarkable fact that all that we can point to as the native product of\nLatin art is comic farces, whereas the more cultivated types of comedy,\nnot excluding those of Plautus and Terence, are borrowed from Greece,\nand are rather an affair of imitation than independent production.\nEven Ennius first exhausted the sources of Greek poetry before he\nmade mythology prosaic. That type of art is alone native to the Latin\ngenius, which was essentially itself prosaic, the didactic poem, for\nexample, more particularly when it contains an ethical content, and\nendows its general reflections with the purely exterior adornment of\nmetre, images, similes, and a rhetorically beautiful diction. But above\nall other forms thus excepted we place the satire. Here we find it is\nthe mood of virtuous exasperation over the surrounding world which\nstrives to air itself in what is, in some measure, hollow declamations.\nWe can only call this essentially prosaic type of art poetical in so\nfar as it brings before the vision the corrupted nature of real life\nin such a way that this corruption practically falls to pieces as the\nresult of its own folly. Just as Horace, who as a lyric poet entirely\nidentified himself by study with the artistic type and manner of\nGreece, in his epistles and satires--where we have his originality\nmore emphasized--traces for us a living picture of the morals of his\nage, by depicting follies which are self-destructive by virtue of the\nstupidity, that carries them into effect. Nevertheless, even this\nexample only presents us with a kind of merriment that for all its keen\nand educated sense can barely be classed as poetry, the object in the\nmain being to make ridicule out of that which is bad. Among others, on\nthe contrary, we find that the abstract conception of rectitude and\nvirtue is deliberately contrasted with vice; and in this case it is\nexasperation, anger, hate, and scorn, which in some measure expatiate\nin formal eloquence over virtue and wisdom, and in part give full rein\nto the indignation of a soul of more nobility against the dissolution\nand servility of the times, or hold up before the vices of the day the\nmirror of the old morality, the former liberty, the virtues of a state\nof the world which has passed away, without any genuine hope and belief\nin their recovery; or rather one which has nothing to oppose to the\ntottering gait, the dilemmas, the need and danger of an ignominious\npresent, save a stoical equanimity and the unshakable conscience of a\nvirtuous soul. Roman history and philosophy not unfrequently receive\nsomething of the same tone from a mood of this kind. Sallust must\nneeds express himself strongly against the corruptions of morals,\nbeing himself very considerably affected by them. Livy, despite his\nrhetorical elegance, seeks for comfort and satisfaction in his picture\nof the good old days. Above all we have Tacitus, who, with a severe\nmelancholy as grand in its scope as it was profound, without the\nbaldness of declamation, indignantly exposes in the clearest relief\nthe evils of his time. Among the satirists Persius is remarkable for\nhis acerbity, with a bitter edge more keen than that of Juvenal. Later\non we find bringing up the rear the Greek Syrian Lucian giving free\nvent to his witticisms and pleasantry against all things, whether\nheroes, philosophers, or gods; and with exceptional prominence passing\nin review the ancient gods of Greece on the score of their humanity\nand individuality. However, only too often he goes no further in his\ntittle-tattle than the mere external aspect of these godlike figures\nand their actions, and is for that reason wearisome to modern readers.\nFor, on the one hand, so far as our convictions are concerned, we have\nalready disposed of all that he would destroy, and on the other we are\naware that, despite all his jests and mockery, these characteristic\ntraits of Greek divinities, when contemplated under the aspect of\nbeauty, still retain their eternal significance.\n\nNowadays satirical poems are not likely to prove a success. Cotta and\nGoethe have proposed competitions in this form of composition, but no\npoems of note are forthcoming. Certain fixed principles are bound up\nwith it, with which the present age is not in harmony; a wisdom which\nis devoid of content, a virtue which adheres with inflexible obstinacy\nto its own resources and nothing beyond, may very possibly contrast\nitself with the actual world, but is quite unable to bring about the\ntruly poetical resolution of what is false and repugnant, and effect\nthe genuine reconciliation in the truth.\n\nIn one word, Art is unable to persist in this breach between the\nabstract conceptions of the inward life and the objective world\naround, without proving itself false to its own principle. The\nsubjective realm of the soul must be conceived as that which is itself\nan essentially infinite and independent existence, which, albeit it\nis unable to suffer the finite reality to subsist as Truth itself,\nnevertheless does not merely assert itself negatively toward the same\nin a bare contradiction, but proceeds all the while on the path of\nreconciliation, and for the first time, in its opposition to the ideal\nindividualities of the classical art-form, declares this very activity,\nbeing in fact the presentment of the absolute mode of self-conscious\nlife.\n\n[Footnote 197: Lit. \"the essentially-and-for-itself-necessary.\"]\n\n[Footnote 198: H\u00f6lderlin, and of course Goethe no less than Schiller,\nwould be included. With our moderns such as Swinburne the admission is\nless obvious than the qualification.]\n\n[Footnote 199: _Die Aufkl\u00e4rung._ That is, the end of the eighteenth\ncentury; usually translated as illumination or enlightenment.]\n\n[Footnote 200: _Verstand_, the faculty of science and common sense.]\n\n[Footnote 201:\n\n/$\n     What! doth this same stillness tell me sadly\n     All I know of Him who voiced creation?\n     Dark as e'en the veil that hides Him from me\n     Is my heart's salute of resignation.\n$/\n]\n\n[Footnote 202:\n\n/$\n     Since the gods were then more human\n     Men were more in image godlike.\n$/\n]\n\n[Footnote 203:\n\n/$\n     Wrested from the flood of Time's abysses\n       Saved they float above high Pindus now;\n     All that was immortal life within them\n       Lives in song, all other life must go.\n$/\n]\n\n[Footnote 204: _Zornlos_ lit., without anger.]\n\n[Footnote 205: I think this is the meaning of the words _mit\nsubjectiver Besonderheit_, but the interpretation \"with other material\npeculiar to the writer\" is not impossible.]\n\n\n\n\nSUBSECTION III\n\nTHE ROMANTIC TYPE OF ART\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nOF THE ROMANTIC GENERALLY\n\nThe type of romantic art receives its definition, as we have hitherto\nthroughout the present inquiry seen was always the case, from the ideal\nnotion of the content, which it is the function of art to declare.\nWe must consequently in the first place attempt to elucidate the\ndistinctive principle of the new content, a content which now, in its\nsignificance as the absolute content of truth, opens up to our minds a\nnew vision of the world no less than a novel configuration of art.\n\nIn the _first_ stage of our inquiry, the entrance chamber of art,\nthe impulse of imagination consisted in the struggle from Nature to\nspiritual expression. In this strain Spirit never reached beyond\nwhat was still only an effort to find, an effort which, in so far as\nit was not yet able to supply a genuine content for art, could only\nmaintain its position as an external embodiment of the significant\naspects of Nature, or those abstractions of the ideal inwardness\nof substance which were destitute of a subjective character in the\nstrict sense, and in which this type of art found its real centre. The\n_reverse_ of this point of view we discovered in classical art. Here\nit is spirituality--albeit it is only by virtue of the abrogation of\nthe significances of Nature that it is enabled to struggle forth in\nits independent self-identity--which is the basis and principle of\nthe content, with the natural phenomenon in the bodily or sensuous\nmaterial for its external form. This embodiment, however, did not,\nas was the case in the first stage, remain superficial, indefinite,\nand unsuffused by its content; but the perfection of art attained\nits culminating point by precisely this means, namely, that Spirit\ncompletely transpierced its exterior appearance, idealized the shell\nof Nature in this union of beauty, and drew round itself a reality\nadequate to its own nature as mind under the mode of substantive\nindividuality. By this means classical art was a presentation of the\nIdeal which completely satisfied its notion, the consummation of the\nrealm of beauty. More beautiful art than this can neither exist now nor\nhereafter.\n\nBut for all that we may have an art that is more lofty in its aim than\nthis lovely revelation of Spirit in its immediate sensuous form, if\nat the same time one that is created by the mind as adequate to its\nown nature. For this coalition, which perfects itself in the medium of\nwhat is external, and thereby makes sensible reality its adequate and\ndeterminate existence, necessarily runs counter to the true notion of\nSpirit, and drives it forth from its reconciliation in the bodily shape\nupon its own essential substance to seek further reconciliation in that\nalone. The simple and unriven totality of the Ideal is dissolved, and\nbreaks up into one of twofold aspect, namely, that of the essentially\nsubjective life and its exterior semblance, in order to enable mind,\nby means of this severation, to win the profounder reconciliation\nin its own most proper element. In one word, Spirit, which has for\nits principle the mode of entire self-sufficiency, the union of its\nnotion with its reality--is only able to discover an existence that\nwholly corresponds to such a principle in its own spiritual world of\nemotion, soul, that is to say, in the inward life where it feels at\nhome. The human spirit becomes aware that it must possess its Other,\nits _existence_, as Spirit, which it appropriates as its own and what\nit verily is, and by doing so at length enjoys its own infinity and\nfreedom.\n\n1. This elevation of Spirit to its _own substance_, through which it\nattains its objectivity--which it would otherwise be obliged to seek\nfor in the external environment of its existence within its own self\nand in this union with itself both feels and knows itself--is what\nconstitutes the fundamental principle of romantic art. With this truth\nwe may join as a corollary thereto that for this concluding stage the\nbeauty of the classic Ideal, or in other words beauty in its most\nuniquely consonant form and its most conformable content, is no longer\nregarded as ultimate. For in arriving at the point of romantic art,\nSpirit[206] becomes aware that its truth is not fully attained by a\nself-absorption in the material of sense. On the contrary, it only\ncomes fully to the knowledge of that truth by withdrawing itself out\nof that medium into the inward being of its own substance, whereby it\ndeliberately affirms the inadequacy of external reality as a mode of\nits existence. It is owing to this that when this new content is set\nthe essential task of making itself an object of beauty, the beauty, in\nthe meaning of the terms under which we have met with it before, only\npersists as a subordinate mode, and the new conception of it becomes\nthe _spiritual_ beauty of what is its own ideality made fully explicit,\nin other words, the subjectivity of Spirit essentially infinite in its\nmode.\n\nIn order, however, that mind may attain the infinity which belongs\nto it it must transcend at the same time purely formal and _finite_\npersonality and rise into the measure of the _Absolute._ That is to\nsay, Spirit must declare itself as fulfilled with that which is out\nand out substantive, and in doing so proclaim itself as a self-knowing\nand self-willing subject. Conversely, therefore, what is substantive\nand true is no longer to be apprehended as a mere \"beyond\" relatively\nto our humanity, and the anthropomorphism of the Greek view of things\ncan be struck out; and in the place of this we have humanity as very\nand real subjectivity affirmed as the principle, and by virtue of this\nchange, as we have already seen, anthropomorphism for the first time\nreflects a truth of complete and final validity.\n\n2. We have now in a general way to develop the range of subject-matter,\nno less than its form, from the earliest phases in the evolution of\nthis principle, whose configuration, as it thus changes, is conditioned\nby the new content of romantic art.\n\nThe true principle of the romantic content is absolute inwardness[207],\nand the form which corresponds to it, the subjectivity of mind, meaning\nby this the comprehension of its self-subsistence and freedom. This\nintrinsically infinite principle and explicitly enunciated universal\nis the absolute negation of all particularity[208]; it is simple\nunity at home with itself, which consumes all that is separable, all\nprocesses of Nature and its succession of birth, passing away, and\nreappearance, all the limitations of spiritual existence, and dissolves\nall particular gods in its pure and infinite self-identity. In this\nPantheon all gods are dethroned; the flame of the subjective essence\nhas destroyed them; instead of the plastic polytheism art recognizes\nnow _one_ God only, _one_ Spirit, _one_ absolute self-subsistence,\nwhich as the absolute knowledge and volition of itself remains in\nfree union with it, and no longer falls to pieces in the particular\ncharacters and functions we have reviewed above, whose single unit of\ncohesion was the force of an obscure Necessity. Absolute subjectivity,\nhowever, in its purity would escape from art altogether, and only be\npresent in the apprehension of Thought, unless it could enter into\nexternal existence in order that it might be a subjectivity which was\n_actual_ if also conformable to its notion, and further could recollect\nitself in its own province from out of this reality. And, what is\nmore, this moment of reality is pertinent to the Absolute, because\nthe Absolute, as infinite negativity, contains this self-relation--as\nsimple unity of knowledge at home with itself, and therewith as\n_immediacy_--for the final consummation of its activity. On account\nalso of this its immediate existence, which is rooted in the Absolute\nitself, the Absolute declares itself not as the one jealous God, who\nmerely annuls the aspect of Nature and finite human existence, without\nrevealing itself verily therein under the mode of actual divine\nsubjectivity; rather the very Absolute unfolds itself, and takes to\nitself an aspect, relatively to which it is also within the grasp and\npresentation of art.\n\nThe determinate existence of God, however, is not the natural and\nsensuous in its simplicity, but the sensuous as brought home to that\nwhich is not sensuous, in other words to the subjectivity of mind\nwhich, instead of losing the certainty of its own presence as the\nAbsolute, in its external envisagement, for the first time, and by no\nother means than this its reality, is made aware of its actual presence\nas such. God in His Truth is consequently no mere Ideal begotten of the\nimagination, but He declares Himself in the heart of finite condition\nand the external mode of contingent existence, and is, moreover, made\nknown to Himself therein as divine subjective life, which maintains\nitself there as essentially infinite and creating this infinity for\nitself. Inasmuch, then, as the actual subject[209] is the manifestation\nof God, Art for the first time secures the superior right to apply\nthe human figure and its mode of externality generally as a means to\nexpress the Absolute, although the new function of art can only consist\nin making the external form not a means whereby the ideality of man's\ninward condition is absorbed in exterior bodily shape, but rather\nconversely to make the consciousness of the Divine mind visible in the\nsubject of consciousness. The distinguishable phases, which combine to\nmake up the totality of this apprehension of the world-condition as,\nthat is to say, the concrete totality of truth, are consequently made\nmanifest to mankind from this point onwards under such a mode that\nit is neither the Natural in its simplicity, such as sun, heavens,\nstars, and so forth, nor the Greek conclave of the gods of beauty, nor\nthe heroes and practical exploits in the field of the family cultus\nand political life--it is neither one nor any of these which supplies\nus with either content or form. Rather it is the actual and isolated\nindividual subject who receives in the inward[210] substance of his\nliving experience this infinite worth, for it is in him alone that the\neternal characters of absolute Truth--which is made actual only as\nSpirit--expand out of their fulness within, and are concentrated to the\npoint of determinate existence.\n\nIf we contrast this definition of romantic art with that which\nwas proposed to the classical--that is to say, as Greek sculpture\ncompleted the latter under the mode most conformable to it--it is\nobvious that the plastic figure of the god does not express the\nmotion and activity of Spirit, in so far as the same has retired from\nits actual bodily shape, and has penetrated to the inner shrine of\nindependent self-identity. That which is mutable and contingent in\nthe empirical aspect of individuality is no doubt removed from those\nlofty, godlike figures: what, however, fails them is the actualization\nof the subjective condition in its self-subsistent being as shown in\nself-knowledge and self-volition. This defect makes itself felt on the\nexterior side in the notable fact that the direct expression of soul in\nits simplicity, the light of the eye, is absent from the sculptured\nfigure. The most exalted works of beautiful sculpture are sightless.\nThe inward life does not look forth from them as self-conscious\ninwardness such as this concentration of Spirit to the point of light\nmade visible in the human eye offers us. This light of the soul falls\noutside of them, and is the possession of the beholder alone: he is\nunable to look through these figures as soul direct to soul, and eye\nto eye. The God of romantic art, however, is made known with sight,\nthat is, self-knowing, subjective on the side of soul, and that soul or\ndivine intimacy disclosing itself to soul. For the infinite negativity,\nthe withdrawal of the spiritual into itself, cancels its discharge\nin the bodily frame. This subjectivity is the light of Spirit, which\nreveals itself in its own domain, in the place which was previously\nobscure, whereas the natural light can only give light on the face of\nan object, is in fact this _terrain_ and object, upon which it appears,\nand which it is aware of as itself[211]. Inasmuch as, however, this\nabsolute intimacy of the soul expresses itself at the same time as\nthe mode of human envisagement in its actual existing shape, and our\nhumanity is bound up with the entire natural world, we shall find\nthat there is no less a wide field of variety in the contents of the\nsubjective world of mind than there is in that external appearance, to\nwhich Spirit is related as to its own dwelling-place.\n\nThe reality of absolute subjectivity, as above described, in the mode\nof its visible manifestation, possesses the following modes of content\nand appearance.\n\n(_a_) Our first point of departure we must deduce from the Absolute\nitself, which as very and actual mind endows itself with determinate\nexistence, is self-knowing in its thought and activity. Here we find\nthe human form so represented that it is known immediately as the\nwholly self-possessed Divine. Man does not appear as man in his solely\nhuman character, in the constraint of his passions, finite aims,\nand achievements, or as merely conscious of God, but rather as the\nself-knowing one and only universal God Himself, in whose life and\nsufferings, birth, death, and resurrection He reveals openly also to\nfinite consciousness, what Spirit, what the Eternal and Infinite in\ntheir veritable truth are[212]. Romantic art presents this content\nin the history of Christ, his mother, and his disciples, with all\nthe rest of those in whom the Holy Spirit and the perfected Divine\nis manifested. For in so far as God, who is above all the essential\nUniversal, exists in the manifestation of human existence, this\nreality is not, in the Divine figure of Christ, limited to isolate and\nimmediate existence, but unfolds itself throughout the entire range\nof that humanity, in which the Spirit of God is made present, and in\nthis actuality continues in unity with itself. The diffusion of this\nself-contemplation, this essential self-possession of mind[213], is\npeace, in other words the reconciled state of Spirit with its own\ndominion in the mode of its objective presence--a divine world, a\nkingdom of God, in which the Divine, which has for its substantive\nnotion from the first reconciliation with itself, consummates this\nresult in such a condition, and thereby secures its freedom.\n\n(_b_) However much, we must fain add, this identification asserts\nitself as grounded in the essence of the Absolute itself, as spiritual\nfreedom and infinity it is no reconciliation which immediately is\nvisible from the first in either the real worlds of Nature or Spirit;\non the contrary, it is only accomplished as the elevation of Spirit\nfrom the finitude of its immediate existence to its truth. As a\ncorollary of this it follows that Spirit, in order to secure its\ntotality and freedom, must effect an act of self-severation, and set\nup on the one side itself as the finitude of Nature and Spirit to\nits opposed self on the other as that which is essentially infinite.\nConversely with this act of disruption the necessity is conjoined\nthat from out of this retirement from its unity--within the bounds of\nwhich the finite and purely natural, the immediacy of existence, the\n\"natural\" heart in the sense of the negative, evil and bad, one and\nall are defined--a way is at last found by virtue of the subjugation\nof all that has no substantive worth within the kingdom of truth and\nconsolation. In this wise the reconcilement of Spirit can only be\nconceived as an activity, a movement of the same, can only be presented\nas a process, in whose course arise both strain and conflict, and\nthe appearance and reappearance, as an essential feature of it, of\npain, death, the mournful sense of non-reality, the agony of the\nsoul and its bodily tenement. For just as God in the first instance\ndisparts finite reality from Himself, so, too, finite man, who starts\non his journey outside the divine kingdom, receives the task to exalt\nhimself to God, to let loose from him the finite, to do away with the\nnothing-worth, and by means of this decease of his immediate reality\nto become that which God in His manifestation as man accomplished as\nvery truth in the actual world. The infinite pain of this sacrifice of\nthe most personal subjectivity, sufferings, and death, which for the\nmost part were excluded from the representation of classical art, or\nrather only are presented there as natural suffering, receive their\nadequate treatment necessarily for the first time in romantic art.\nIt is, for example, impossible to affirm that among the Greeks death\nwas ever conceived in its full and essential significance. Neither\nthat which was purely natural, nor the immediacy of Spirit in its\nunion with the bodily presence, was held by the Greeks as something\nin itself essentially negative. Death was consequently to them purely\nan abstract passing over, unaccompanied by horror or fearsomeness, a\ncessation without further immeasurable consequences for the deceased.\nIf, however, conscious life in its spiritual self-possession is of\ninfinite worth then the negation, which death enfolds, is a negation\nof this exaltation and worth, and it is consequently fearful, a death\nof the soul, which is in the position of finding itself thereby\nas itself now this negative in explicit appearance, excluded for\nevermore from happiness, absolutely unhappy, delivered over to eternal\ndamnation[214]. Greek individuality, on the contrary, does not,\nregarded as spiritual self-consciousness, attach this worth to itself;\nit is able, consequently, to surround death with more cheerful images.\nMan only fears the loss of that which is of great worth to him[215].\nLife possesses, however, only this infinite worth for mind if the\nsubject thereof, as spiritual and self-conscious, is reality in its\nabsolute unity, and is compelled with an apprehension, in this way\njustified, to image itself as doomed to negation by death. From another\npoint of view, however, death also fails to secure from classical\nart the _positive_ significance which it receives from romantic art.\nThe Greeks never treated with real seriousness what we understand\nby immortality. It was only in later times that the doctrine of\nimmortality received at the hands of Socrates a profounder significance\nfor the introspective reflection of human intelligence. When, for\nexample, Odysseus[216] praises the happiness of Achilles in the lower\nworld as one excelling that of all others who were before or came after\nhim on the ground that he, once revered as a god, is now greatest chief\namong the dead, Achilles in the well-known words rates this fortune\nat a very low rank indeed, and makes answer that Odysseus had better\nutter no word of comfort to him on the score of death; nay, he would\nrather be a mere serf of the soil, and poor enough serve a poor man\nfor wage, than rule as lord over all the ghosts of the dead who have\nvanished to Hades. In romantic art, on the contrary, death is merely\na decease of the natural soul and finite consciousness, a decease,\nwhich only proclaims itself as negative as against that which is itself\nessentially negative and abolishes what has no real substance, and is\nconsequently the deliverance of Spirit from its finitude and division,\nmediating at the same time the spiritual reconciliation of the\nindividual subject with the Absolute[217]. Among the Greeks life in its\nunion with the existence of Nature and the external world was the only\nlife about which you could affirm anything, and death was consequently\npure negation, the dissolution of immediate reality. In the romantic\nview of the world, however, death receives the significance due to\nits negativity, in other words the negation of the negative[218],\nand returns back to us thereby equally as the affirmative, as the\nresurrection of Spirit from the bare husk of Nature and the finiteness\nwhich it has outgrown. The pain and death of the extinguished light of\nindividual being awakes again in its return upon itself in fruition,\nblessedness, and in short that reconciled existence which Spirit is\nunable to attain to save through the dying of its negative state, in\nwhich it is shut off from its most veritable truth and life. This\nfundamental principle does not therefore merely affect the fact of\ndeath as it approaches man in his relation to the world of Nature, but\nit is bound up with a process, which Spirit has to sustain in itself,\nquite independently of this external aspect of negation, if life and\ntruth are to join hands.\n\n(_c_) The _third_ presentment of this absolute world of Spirit is\nco-ordinated by man, in so far as he neither makes manifest the\nAbsolute and Divine in its immediate and essential mode as such\n_Divine_, nor declares positively the process in which he is exalted\nto the Supreme Being, and reconciled with Him, but rather continues\nwithin the ordinary sphere of his human life. Here it is the purely\n_finite_ aspect of that existence which constitutes the content,\nwhether we regard it in the light of its spiritual purposes, its\nworldly interests, passions, collisions, suffering, and enjoyments,\nor from that point of view which is wholly external, that of Nature,\nits kingdom, and all its detailed phenomena. In order to apprehend\nthis content with adequacy, however, we must take up two distinct\npositions relatively to it. In other words, it is true that Spirit,\nfor the reason that it has secured the principle of self-affirmation,\nexpatiates in this province, as one on which it has a just claim, and\none which, as native to it, provides satisfaction, an element from\nwhich it merely extracts this positive character[219], and is permitted\nthereby itself to be reflected in its positive satisfaction and\nintimacy; yet, on the other hand, we have the fact that this content\nis brought down to the level of pure contingency, a contingency which\nis unable to claim any independent validity, for the reason that mind\ncannot discover therein it veritable existence, and consequently only\npreserves its substantial unity by independently on its own account\nbreaking up again this finite aspect of Spirit and Nature as a thing of\nfinitude and negation.\n\n3. In conclusion, then, so far as the relation of this content in its\nentirety to its mode of presentation is concerned, it would appear,\nin the first place, agreeably to what we have above stated, that the\ncontent of romantic art, relatively to the Divine, at any rate, is very\n_limited._\n\n(_a_) For, first, as we have already indicated, Nature is divested of\nthe Divine principle; in other words, the sea and mountains, valleys,\nTime, and Night, briefly all the general processes of Nature, have\nhere lost the worth which they carry when related to the presentation\nand content of the Absolute. The images of Nature receive no further\nexpansion in a symbolic significance. The thesis that their shapes and\nactivities might possibly sustain traits of Divine import is taken away\nfrom them. For all the mighty questions in regard to the origin of the\nworld, in regard to the Whence, Wherefore, and Whither, of created\nNature and humanity, and all the symbolical and plastic experiments\nin the resolution and exposition of these problems disappear at once\nin the revelation of God in Spirit; and we may add that also in the\nspiritual sphere the world of variety and colour, with the characters,\nactions, and events, as they were envisaged by classical art, are now\nconcentrated in _one_ single _light-focus_ of the Absolute and its\neternal history of redemption. The whole content meets, therefore, at\nthis single point of the Inmost of Spirit[220]--that is, of feeling,\nimagination, soul--all that strains after a union with truth, that\nseeks and wrestles to bring to birth the Divine in consciousness, and\nto maintain it; and, furthermore, is constrained to execute the world's\naims and undertakings, not so much for the _world's_ sake as to further\nthe unique and essential undertaking of its heart by means of the\nspiritual conflict of man's inward nature and his reconciliation with\nGod, presenting personality and its conservation no less than all that\npaves the way to them for this object, and this alone. The heroism,\nwhich makes its appearance as the result of such aspirations, is not\nthe kind of heroism which prescribes laws by its own fiat, establishes\nnew systems, creates and informs circumstances, but rather a heroism\nof submission, which accepts everything as predetermined and ordered\nabove it, and whose energies are now wholly restricted to the task of\nregulating temporal events in line with such direction, and making\nthat which is in keeping with the higher order and of independent\nstability a valid factor in the world as if is and in the Time-process.\nFor the reason, however, that this absolute content appears as\nconcentrated to a focus in the inward _life of the soul_, and the\nentire process is imported into the life of mankind, the range of this\ncontent is thereby also infinitely extended. It _expands_, in fact,\nto a manifold variety practically without limit. For although every\nobjective history supplies what is substantive in that self-concrete\nsoul-life, yet for all that the subject of the same reviews it in all\nits aspects, presents isolated features taken from it, or unfolds it\nas it appears in continually novel human traits by way of addition,\nand may very well into the bargain both import the entire expanse of\nNature, as environment and _locale_ of Spirit, and divert them to the\none single object referred to. By this means the history of soul-life\nis infinitely rich, and can adapt its form to ever shifting conditions\nand situations in every possible way. And, further, if the individual\nat last steps forth from this absolute sphere and actively engages in\nworldly affairs, the range of interests, objects, and emotions will\nbe difficult to count on the score in proportion as the spiritual\nself-possession is profound, agreeably to the principle in its fullest\napplication; man is consequently distracted by an infinitely multiplied\nprofusion of interior and exterior collisions, revolutions, and\ngradations of passion, and the most manifold degrees of satisfaction.\nThe Absolute in its unqualified and essential universality, in so far,\nthat is, as it is unfolded in the conscious life of the human soul,\nconstitutes the spiritual content of romantic art; and for this reason\nhis collective humanity, no less than its entire evolution, becomes its\ninexhaustible material.\n\n(_b_) Romantic art does not, however, _as art_ educe this content\nin the way we found was the case for the most part in symbolic art,\nand, above all, in the classical type and its ideal gods. Romantic\nart, as we have seen already, is not, in its _specific_ capacity, the\ninstructive _revelation_, which, merely in the form of art, makes\nthe content of truth visible to the senses. The content is already\npresent in the conceptive mind, and the emotions independently and\noutside the sphere of art. _Religion_, as the consciousness of truth\nin its universality, is here an essential _premiss_ of art to a degree\ntotally different from what it was in the previous cases; and, even\nif we look at the position in its wholly exterior aspect for the\nconsciousness that is actual in the reality of the material world, it\nlies before us as the prosaic fact of the very present. That is to say,\ninasmuch as the content of revelation to mind is the eternal absolute\nnature of _mind_[221] itself, which breaks itself loose from Nature\nin its bareness and _subordinates_ the same, its manifestation in the\nimmediacy of present life is such that the external material, in so far\nas it consists and is existent, only continues as a contingent world,\nout of which the Absolute recollects itself in the secret wealth of\nSpirit, and only by such means attains independence and truth. The\nexternal show receives thus the imprimatur of an indifferent medium,\nin which Spirit can repose no ultimate trust, and in which it can find\nno dwelling-place. The more it conceives the conformation of external\nreality as unworthy of its fulness the less it becomes able to seek\nconsolation therein, or to discover its task of self-reconcilement\nconsummated by a union therewith.\n\n(_c_) The manner in which, therefore, romantic art gives to itself\na real embodiment agreeably to the spirit of the principle above\nindicated, and on the side of its external appearance, is not one\nwhich essentially overleaps the ordinary presentment of reality: it\nis by no means averse to accept as cover for itself real existence in\nits finite defects and definition. That beauty therefore disappears\nfrom it, which tended to raise the outside envisagement above the\nsoilure of Time, and the traces that unite it with a Past, in order\nto declare the beauty of existence in its blossom in the room of what\nhad otherwise been a dismantled image. Romantic art has no longer for\nits aim the freedom and life of existence in its infinite tranquillity\nand absorption of the soul in the bodily presence; no more a life\nsuch as _this_ arrests it. It turns its back on this pinnacle of\nbeauty. It interweaves the threads of its soul experience with the\ncontingent material of Nature's workshop, and gives unfettered play\nto the emphatic features of ugliness itself. We have, in short, two\nworlds included in the Romantic, a spiritual realm essentially complete\nin itself, the soul-kingdom, which finds reconciliation in its own\nsphere, and therewith the otherwise straightforward repetition of\nbirth, death, and resurrection now for the first time perfected in\nthe true circular orbit, doubled back in the return upon itself, the\ngenuine Phoenix life of Spirit. On the other hand, there is the realm\nof external Nature simply as such, which, released as it is from its\nsecure association and union with Spirit, becomes now a completely\nempirical reality, concerning the form of which the soul cares little\nor nothing. In classical art Spirit controlled the empirical phenomenon\nand transpierced it through and through, because it was the very thing\nwhich it had to accept as its completed reality. But now the ideal\nkingdom is indifferent to the mode of configuration in the world of\nimmediate sense, because this immediacy is beneath the sphere of the\nblessedness of essential soul-life. The external phenomenon is no\nlonger able to express this inward life; and if any call is made upon\nit for this purpose, it merely is utilized to make plain that the\nexternal show is an existence which does not satisfy, and is forced\nto point back by suggestion to the spiritual content, the soul and\nits emotions, as the truly essential medium. Precisely for the same\nreason romantic art suffers externality on its own part to go on\nits way freely; and in this respect permits all and every material,\nflowers, trees, and so on, down to the most ordinary domestic utensils,\nto appear in its productions just as they are, and as the chance of\nnatural circumstance may arrange them. Such a content as this, however,\ncarries at the same time with it the result, that as purely exterior\nmatter, its worth is of no validity and insignificant; it only receives\nits genuine worth when the soul has made itself a home in it, and it is\ntaken to express not merely the ideal, but _spiritual inwardness_[222]\nitself, which, instead of blending itself with the exterior thing,\nappears simply to have attained its own reconciliation with itself. The\nideality thus brought home to a point is that mode of expression which\nis without externality, invisibly declaring itself, and only itself,\nin other words, a tone of music simply, which is neither an object nor\npossesses form, a wavelet over waters[223], a ringing sound over a\nworld, which, in sounds such as this, and the varied phenomena which\nare united with it, can only receive and reflect one reverberation of\nthis self-absorption of the soul.\n\nTo sum up, then, in a word, this relation of content and form in the\nromantic type, where it remains true to its distinctive character, we\nmay affirm that the fundamental note of the same, for this very reason\nthat its principle constitutes an ever expanding universality and the\nrestlessly active depths of heart and mind, is that of _music_, and\nwhen combined with the definite content of imagination, lyrical. This\n_lyrical_ aspect is likewise the primary characteristic of romantic\nart, a tone which gives the key-note also to the epic poem and drama,\nand which is wafted as a breath of soul even around the works of the\nplastic arts, since here, too, spirit and soul are desirous of speaking\nby means of the plastic shape to soul and mind.\n\nAs regards the _division_ of our subject, which we must now in\nconclusion determine for the examination of this our third extensive\ndomain of artistic production on the lines of its development, we\nshall find that the basic notion of the romantic relatively to\nits substantive and progressive articulation is comprised most\nconveniently in three branches of division we may define as follows.\n\nThe _first_ sphere is the province of _religion_ strictly, in which\nthe redemption history, the life, death, and resurrection of Christ\nconstitute the central interest. The principle which is emphasized as\nall-important here is that self-involution which mind accomplishes by\nnegating its immediacy and finitude, overcoming the same, and by means\nof this liberation secures its own self-possessed infinity and absolute\nself-subsistence in its own kingdom.\n\nThis self-subsistence passes, then, in the _second_ place from the\nDivine dwelling of essential Spirit, surrenders its pure exaltation\nof finite man to God, in order to enter the _temporal world._ Here it\nis, in the first instance, the subject of consciousness simply, which\nhas become self-affirmative, and which possesses as the substantive\nmaterial of its content, no less than as the interest of its existence,\nthe virtues of this positive subjectivity, such as honour, love,\nfidelity, and bravery, the aims and obligations, in short, of romantic\nchivalry.\n\nThe content and form of the _third_ chapter may be generally\nindicated as the _formal consistency of character._ In other words,\nif the subjective life has been so far concentrated, that spiritual\nindependence is its essential characteristic, it follows also that the\n_particular_ content, with which such independence is associated as\nwith what is strictly its own, will also partake of such a character;\nthis self-subsistence, however, inasmuch as it does not, as was the\ncase in the sphere appertinent to essential and explicit religious\ntruth, repose in the substantive core of its life, is only able\nto reach a formal type. Conversely the configuration of external\nconditions, situations, and events is now also independently free, and\nis involved consequently in every sort of capricious adventure. For\nthis reason we find, to put it in general terms, as the termination of\nthe romantic, the contingency of the exterior condition and internal\nlife, and a falling asunder of the two aspects, by reason of which Art\ncommits an act of suicide, and betrays the fact that conscious life\nmust now secure forms of loftier significance, than Art alone is able\nto offer, in which to grasp and retain truth.\n\n[Footnote 206: Throughout, of course, the German word translated in\nthese paragraphs as mind or spirit is _Geist._]\n\n[Footnote 207: Absolute ideality may perhaps interpret the text more\nintelligibly.]\n\n[Footnote 208: It is so because as self-identity it distinguishes\nitself from everything to which it is related.]\n\n[Footnote 209: _Das wirkliche Subjekt_, Hegel means, of course,\nindividual man.]\n\n[Footnote 210: \"Most intimate\" would perhaps express the meaning more\nclearly.]\n\n[Footnote 211: Hegel here gives expression to what is perhaps not\nwholly defensible logic, though it may be truly poetic mysticism.]\n\n[Footnote 212: I would refer any reader who is inclined to gasp at\nthis interpretation of Christian revelation to some useful remarks of\nProfessor Bosanquet in his Preface to his translation, p. XXVIII.]\n\n[Footnote 213: _Die Ausbreitung dieses Selbstanschauens,\nIn-sich-und-Bei-sich-seyns_ _des Geistes ist der Frieden._ One of\nHegel's terrors for the translator, though the sense is obvious enough.]\n\n[Footnote 214: The analysis no doubt has its interest. But among\nother difficulties it is not easy to see how the argument, based\nas it is on rational grounds, makes for anything but annihilation.\nDeath is a negation--it, according to the argument, puts an end to\nthe \"process\"--what remains then is apparently the evanescence of the\nfinite spirit. This reference to \"happiness\" assumes that conscious\nindividual life continues, which is a mere _pelitio principii._ If it\ncontinues the former dual aspect would seem to be implied in it. The\nanalysis of the actual significance of death for Christendom and Greek\npaganism retains, of course, its validity.]\n\n[Footnote 215: But surely in a sense personal life, if only limited\nto Earth's existence, may be, I do not say necessarily is, all the\nmore valuable. This is an important aspect of the matter which is not\nhere adequately answered, and it suggests a real grievance against\nthe extravagant follies of a certain type of Christendom. The present\nfeeling of the wisest minds of our own time will be inclined to\nregard a good deal of Hegel's remarks here as insufficient or lacking\ndirectness. One recalls those significant lines of a great writer but\nrecently taken from us:\n\n/$\n     Sensation is a gracious gift\n       But were it cramped in station,\n     The prayer to have it cast adrift\n       Would spout from all sensation.\n$/\n\nHegel's point of view seems neither to be that of mysticism nor mere\nabsorption.]\n\n[Footnote 216: \"Odyssey,\" XI, vv. 481-91. But this illustration is at\nleast evidence of the high value a Greek attached to life on Earth.]\n\n[Footnote 217: True enough as an analysis of the Christian\nconsciousness; but the difficulty above pointed out remains so far as\nthe writer refers to a future life, which he sometimes appears to do,\nsometimes not. Conditions are assumed for human personality of which we\ncan form no conception.]\n\n[Footnote 218: He means it is the negation of that which is itself\na negation, finite existence. The conclusion is of course, as above\nsuggested, replete with difficulty.]\n\n[Footnote 219: That is, I presume, the positive character of natural\nconditions; but it may mean its own \"affirmative\" relation.]\n\n[Footnote 220: _Auf die Innerlichkeit des Geistes._]\n\n[Footnote 221: Reason or Spirit are perhaps preferable.]\n\n[Footnote 222: The German words are _das Innerliche_ and _die\nInnigkeit._]\n\n[Footnote 223: This is obviously not wholly independent of form.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE RELIGIOUS DOMAIN OF ROMANTIC ART\n\nInasmuch as romantic art, in the representation of the consciousness\nof absolute subjectivity, understanding this as the comprehension of\nall truth, the coalescence of mind with its essence--receives its\nsubstantive content in the satisfaction of soul-life, in other words\nthe reconciliation of God with the world and therein with Himself, it\nfollows that at this stage the Ideal for the first time is completely\nat home. For it was blessedness and self-subsistency, contentment,\nrepose, and freedom which we declared as most fundamentally defining\nthe Ideal. Of course, we cannot therefore on this account deduce\nthe Ideal simply from the notion and reality of romantic art; but\nrelatively to the classic Ideal the form it receives is entirely\naltered. This relation, already in general terms indicated, we must now\nbefore everything else establish in its fully concrete significance,\nin order to elucidate the fundamental type of the romantic mode of\npresentation. In the classical Ideal the Divine is in one aspect of\nit restricted to pure individuality; in another aspect the soul and\nspiritual blessedness of particular gods find their exclusive discharge\nthrough the physical medium; and as a third characteristic, for the\nreason that the inseparable unity of each individual both essentially\nand in its exterior form supplies the principle of the same, the\nnegativity of the dismemberment implied in human life, that is the\npain of both body and soul, sacrifice, and resignation are unable to\nappear as essentially pertinent to these godlike figures. The Divine\nof classical art falls, it is true, into an aggregation of gods,\nbut there is no organic and essential self-division, no universally\nproclaimed essence such as we find in the particular presentment of\nman whether in form and spirit, whether empirically or subjectively\nconsidered; and just as little has it confronting it, as being itself\nthe Absolute in invisible form, a world of evil, sin, and ignorance,\ntogether with the task of resolving such contradictions in harmony, and\nonly by thus growing on level terms with the very truth and divine out\nof this reconciliation. In the notion of the absolute subjectivity,\non the contrary, this opposition between substantive universality and\npersonality is inherent, an opposition, whose consummated mediation\nthe subjective ideality perfects with its substance, exalting thereby\nthe substantive presence to the articulate and absolute subject of\nself-knowledge and volition. But there is, _secondly_, appertinent\nto the reality of the subjective condition conceived as mind the\nprofounder contradiction of a finite world, through whose abrogation\nas finite, and by whose resultant reconciliation with the Absolute\nthe Infinite by virtue of its own absolute activity makes its proper\nbeing self-subsistent, and so for the first time exists as absolute\nSpirit. The appearance of this actuality on the _terrain_, and in the\nconfiguration of the human spirit receives consequently, in respect to\nits _beauty_, a totally different mode of relation to that presented\nby classical art. Greek beauty unfolds the inward aspect of spiritual\nindividuality solely as it is envisaged by means of its bodily shape,\nactions, and events, wholly expressed in what is exterior, and living\nwholly therein. For romantic art, on the contrary, it is absolutely\nnecessary that the soul, albeit envisaged in the exterior medium,\nshould at the same time demonstrate its capacity of self-withdrawal\nfrom the tenement of the body and self-substantive life. The bodily\nframe can therefore now only express the inwardness of mind, in so far\nas it makes it plain that it is not in this material existence, but\nin itself, that the soul discovers its congruent reality. On account\nof this beauty is now no longer an idealization in respect to the\nobjective form, but rather the ideal and essential configuration of the\nsoul itself; it is in short a beauty of spiritual ideality, that is\nthe specific mode of such, as every content is informed and elaborated\nwithin the temple of the subjective world, and without retaining the\nexternal medium in this its permeation with Spirit. For the reason,\nthen, that by this means the interest disappears, which consists in\nclarifying real existence to the point of our classical unity, and\nis concentrated in the contrary direction of wafting a new breath of\nbeauty through the unseen content of the spiritual itself, art ceases\nto retain the old solicitude for what is exterior at all. It accepts\nthe same directly as it may chance to find it, leaving it to take\nwhatever form may happen to please it. The reconciliation with the\nAbsolute is in the Romantic an act of the inward life, which no doubt\nis embodied externally, but which does not retain that exterior in\nits material realization as its essential content and object. We may\nobserve that in close association with this indifference towards the\nidealizing union of soul and body, and in its relation to the external\ntreatment of the more predominant individuality of a sitter, we find\nthe art of _portraiture_, which does not entirely erase particular\ntraits and lines, as they are found in Nature, and her inevitable\ndeficiencies--defects inseparable from finite effects--in order to\nreplace them with something more adequate. Generally speaking even\nhere there is a certain limit to the licence given to Nature in this\nrespect; but to the general aspect of form in the first instance it is\nquite indifferent; and no attempt is made to exclude wholly from it the\naccidental impurities of finite and sensuous existence.\n\nWe may adjoin a further quite sufficient reason for the imperative\ncharacter of this radical definition of romantic art from another point\nof view. The classic Ideal, where we find it at the culminating point\nof its very truth, is self-exclusive, self-subsistent, retiring and not\nsusceptible[224] in its nature, an orbed individual totality, which\nrepels all else from itself. Its conformation is uniquely its own; its\nlife is bound up in that and that exclusively, and it will harbour\nno affinity with what is purely empirical and contingent. Whoever,\ntherefore, approaches an ideal such as this as spectator, is unable\nto appropriate its existence as an embodiment strictly akin to that\nof his own presence. The figures of the eternal gods, albeit human,\ndo not belong to our mortality, for these gods have not themselves\nexperienced the infirmities of finite existence, but are directly\nexalted above them. Their affinity with what is empirical and relative\nis interrupted. The infinite subjectivity, what we call the Absolute\nof romantic art, is on the contrary not absorbed in its presentment;\nit is rather carried into its _own_ domain, and for this very reason\nretains such external aspect as it possesses not so much _for itself_\nas for the contemplation of others, as, in short, an exterior presence\nwhich is freely offered for this purpose. This externality must further\nappear in the form of common fact, the human as our senses perceive\nit, since it is through that that God Himself descends to the level\nof finite and temporal existence, in order to mediate and reconcile\nthe absolute antithesis, which is inherent in the notion of the\nAbsolute. For this reason our empirical humanity also contains in its\nbodily presence an aspect, which unfolds to man a bond of affinity and\nkinship, by virtue whereof he is able to contemplate even his direct\nnatural presence with assurance; and he can do so because the Divine\nincarnation does not, with the severity of the classical type, thrust\non one side the particular and contingent, but presents to his vision\nthat which he himself possesses, or that which he recognizes and loves\nin others around him. It is just this homeliness incidental to what we\nordinarily meet with which attracts and enables romantic art to entrust\nitself to the external aspect of reality. Inasmuch, then, as the\nexternality which is turned adrift is called upon, through this very\nabandonment, to suggest the beauty of soul, the lofty pretension of its\nspirituality and the sacred colour of the emotional life, so, too, at\nthe same time, it is a condition of its doing so that it be absorbed\nitself within the ideal realm of mind and its absolute content, and\nthat it appropriate the same.\n\nTo sum up finally what is implied in this act of surrender we may\nassert that it consists in the general conception, that in romantic art\nthe infinite subjectivity does not abide in solitary self-sufficiency,\nas the Greek god did, living in the full perfection and blessedness\nof his self-exclusion; rather it moves out of itself in relation to\nsomewhat else, which, however, is its own substance, in which it\ndiscovers itself again and continues all the time in union with itself.\nThis condition of self-unity in some other that is yet its own is the\nreal form of beauty appropriate to romantic art, the Ideal of the same,\nwhich receives for its mode and envisagement what is, in its essence,\nsubjective ideality or inwardness, soul-life and its attendant\nemotions. The romantic Ideal expresses, therefore, the relation to\nanother spiritual correlative, which is so closely associated with\nthe ideal possessions of the first one, that it is only by virtue of\nthis further one that the soul lives in the complete wealth of its own\nkingdom. This essential life of the soul in another is, when expressed\nin terms of emotion, the inwardness of love.\n\nWe may consequently affirm _lave_ to be the general content of the\nromantic, so far as the sphere of religion is concerned. Love, however,\nonly receives its truly ideal configuration when it expresses the\n_positive_ reconcilement of Spirit in its immediacy. Before, however,\nwe shall be in a position to examine this stage of the fairest and\nmost ideal spiritual satisfaction, we must first pass in review _the\nprocess of negation_, which the absolute Subject enters in overcoming\nthe finiteness and immediacy of its human envisagement, a process which\nis divulged in the life, death, and suffering of God for the world and\nhumanity, and its possible reconcilement with God. And, secondly, we\nhave on the other side, humanity, which is called upon conversely on\nits own account to pass through the very same process in order to make\nactual the reconciliation which is implicitly contained in its nature.\nMidway within the steps of this process, in which the _negative_ aspect\nof the sensuous and spiritual passage 011 to death and the grave\nconstitutes the central act of achievement, we shall find that the\nexpression of _affirmative_ blessedness is conspicuous, which in this\nsphere characterizes art's most beautiful creations. For the better\ndivision of this first chapter we may examine its subject-matter as it\nfalls into three distinct heads of inquiry.\n\n_First_, we have the redemption-history of Christ; the phasal moments\nof absolute Spirit presented in the person of God Himself, in so far as\nHe becomes man, and takes to Himself an actual existence in the world\nof finitude and its concrete conditions, and in this to start with\nisolated existence gives visible shape to the Absolute itself.\n\n_Secondly_, we shall consider love in its positive presentment as the\nfeeling of reconciliation between the human and the Divine; in other\nwords the Holy Family, the maternal love of Mary, the love of Christ\nand that of his disciples.\n\n_Thirdly_, we have the community before us. Here it is the Spirit\nof God as present by virtue of the conversion of soul and the\nmortification of the natural and finite sense, in short, the return of\nman to God, a return in which penances and pains mediate in the first\ninstance this union of God and man.\n\n1. THE REDEMPTION-HISTORY OF CHRIST\n\nThe reconciliation of God with His own substance, history in its\nabsolute significance, or, in one word, the process of realization, is\nmade visible to our senses and assured to our minds by the revelation\nof God in the world. The content of this reconcilement as expressed\nin the most direct way is the coalescence in unity of the absolute\nessence of reality with the individual subject of human consciousness.\nAn individual man is God and God is an individual man. In this truth\nis implied the fact that the human spirit _intrinsically_, that is,\nrelatively to its notion and essence, is Spirit in truth; and every\nparticular individual in virtue of the humanity he connotes possesses\nthe infinite vocation no less than the infinite significance of being\nan object of God and in union with God. But along with this and of\na like importance the obligation is imposed on man to realize this\nnotion, which, in the first instance, he merely possesses under the\nimplication of his nature. In other words, he has to place before\nhimself and attain to this union with God as the seal of his existence.\nOnly when he has thus consummated his proper destiny does he become\nessentially free and infinite Spirit. This he can only do in so far as\nthat unity is itself the origination, the eternal ground-root of the\nhuman and Divine nature. The goal is here the explicit beginning of the\nprocess, namely, the presupposition for the religious consciousness\nexhibited in romantic art, that God is Himself man and flesh, that He\nhas become this particular human individual, in whom the reconciliation\nconsequently no longer remains as only implicit, so that it is merely\nto be inferred from its _notional_ existence, but asserts itself in\n_objective_ existence also before the perception of human sense as this\nparticular and actually existing man. The importance of this aspect of\n_particularity_ consists in this that it enables all other individuals\nto find in the same the picture of his own reconcilement with God;\nit is now no longer a mere possibility, but a fact which has on this\nvery account appeared as really accomplished in this one person.\nInasmuch, however, as this unity, conceived as the ideal reconciliation\nof opposed factors of one process, is no immediately unified mode of\nbeing, it is inevitable, in the _second_ place, that the process of\nSpirit as exemplified in this _one_ individual--the process, that\nis, by means of which consciousness is for the first time Spirit in\nTruth--should receive the form of its existence in the history of this\nvery person. This history of Spirit attaining its consummation in one\npersonal life consists simply in all that we have already adverted to;\nthat is to say, the particular man casts on one side his singularity\nboth in its bodily and spiritual presence, in other words he suffers\nand dies, but furthermore through the agony of death rises again out of\ndeath and ascends as glorified God, very and real Spirit, who now, it\nis true, has entered actual existence as this particular person, yet is\nwith equal truth only very God as Spirit in His community.\n\n(_a_) This history furnishes the fundamental material for the romantic\nart of the religious consciousness, in its attitude to which, however,\nart, taken simply as Art, is to some extent a superfluity. For the\nmain thing here is spiritual conviction, the feeling and conception\nof this eternal truth, and _the faith_ which is essential evidence to\nitself of the truth, and becomes in consequence a vital possession of\nthe ideality of that conception. In other words, faith in its developed\ncondition consists in the immediate conviction that it has confronting\nsoul, in the organic movement of this history, the _truth_ itself. If,\nhowever, the consciousness of truth is the main point of importance it\nfollows that the _beauty_ of the artistic reflection and presentation\nis of incidental value to which we may be comparatively indifferent,\nfor the truth is present to mind quite independently of art.\n\n(_b_) From another point of view, however, the religious content\ncomprises at the same time within its compass a certain aspect of\nthis process, by virtue of which it not merely admits of artistic\ntreatment, but, in a specific relation, admits of it as _necessary._ In\nthe religious conception of romantic art, as we have more than once\nexplained it, it is an inseparable concomitant of the content that\nit carries anthropomorphism to the verge of an extreme; and this is\nso because it is precisely this content which possesses for its main\n_centrum_ the complete coalescence of the Absolute and Divine with the\nhuman consciousness as a visible part of sensuous reality, in other\nwords, as envisaged in the external bodily frame of man, and further,\nis compelled to represent the Divine in the form of individuality such\nas is associated with the deficiencies of Nature and the mode of finite\nphenomena. In this respect Art supplies to the consciousness which\nseeks to envisage the Divine manifestation, the definite presence of\nan individual and real human figure, a concrete image, moreover, of\nthe exterior traits of events, in which the birth, life, sufferings,\ndeath, resurrection and ascension of Christ are more widely circulated\nto the glory of God; so that it is exclusively by Art that the real\nand visible presence of the Divine is for ever renewed over again in a\npermanent form.\n\n(_c_) In so far as, in this Divine manifestation, an emphasis is laid\non this, namely, that God is essentially a particular individual to\nthe exclusion of others, and does not merely present to us the union\nof Divine and human consciousness in its universal significance, but\nrather as that of this _particular_ man, to that extent, the very\nnature of the content makes it inevitable that all the features of\ncontingency and particularity incidental to finite existence assert\nthemselves, from which the beauty which characterized the consummation\nof the classic Ideal had purified itself. That which the free notion\nof beauty had removed from itself as unfitting, in other words, the\nnon-ideal, is in the present case accepted as a necessary aspect,\nwhich actually originates in the movement of the content itself and is\nconsequently made explicit.\n\n(_\u03b1_) And it follows from this that when the person of Christ is\nselected for the object of art, as so frequently occurs, artists, no\nmatter when or where, have taken the very worst course of all who\ncreate in their presentment of Christ an Ideal in the meaning and mode\nof the classical Ideal. Such heads or figures of Christ may no doubt\ndisplay earnestness, repose, and ethical worth: but the true Christ\npresentment should rather possess on the one hand soul-intensity\nand pre-eminently spirituality in its _widest_ comprehension, on the\nother, intimate personality and _individual_ distinction. Both these\ncontrasted aspects are inconsistent with that blissful repose in the\nsensuous environment of our humanity. To combine these two _termini_\nof artistic reproduction, expression and form, as above defined, is a\nmatter of the greatest difficulty, and painters especially have almost\nalways got themselves into difficulties when they diverged from the\ntraditional type[225].\n\nEarnestness and depth of consciousness should no doubt be prominent\nin the expression of such heads, but the specific features and lines\nboth of countenance and figure ought as little to be of a simply\nideal beauty as they are entitled to fall short in the direction of\nthe commonplace and the ugly, or erroneously to aspire after the\nbare pretensions of the Sublime. The truest success in respect to\nthe external figure will be found in a mean between the directness\nof Nature's detail and the ideal of beauty. Rightly to hit on this\njust mean is difficult. It is pre-eminently in this that the ability,\ntaste, and genius of an artist will assert itself. And in general we\nmay assert that in all artistic execution of this character--putting\non one side entirely the different nature of the content, which is\ninseparable from religious faith--there is more scope offered for the\nexercise of the artist's private judgment than is the case when dealing\nwith the classic Ideal. In classical art the artist seeks to present\nthe spiritual and Divine immediately in the lines of the bodily shape\nitself, in the organism of the human figure; the lines of the human\nform, therefore, in this ideal divergence from what is ordinarily met\nwith in finite existence, are fundamentally necessary to the interest.\nIn the kind of art we are now discussing the configuration remains that\nof ordinary experience; its specific lines are up to a certain point\nunessential, detail, in short, that may indifferently be treated in\ndivers ways and with greater artistic licence. The supreme interest,\ntherefore, is concentrated, on the one hand, in the mode and manner\nwhereby our artist makes that which is spiritual and ideal within the\ncontent under the mode of Spirit itself shine forth through this\nenvisagement of ordinary experience; and, on the other hand, in the\nindividual discretion exercised in the execution, the technical means\nand shifts employed, by virtue of which he is able to impart to his\ncreations the breath of spiritual life and to bring home this finer\nessence to our hearts and senses.\n\n(_\u03b2_) With regard to the further aspect of the content we have already\npointed out that it is referable to the history of the Absolute under\nthe mode that the same is deducible from the notion of Spirit itself;\na history which makes objective in the real world bodily and spiritual\nsingularity as infused with its own essential and universal nature.\nFor the reconciliation of our individual consciousness with God\ndoes not immediately appear as an original harmony, but rather as a\nharmony which only is modulated from infinite pain, from resignation,\nsacrifice, and the mortification of the finite, sensuous, and\nparticular. We see here the finite and the infinite brought into unity;\nand this reconciliation only asserts itself in its true profundity,\nintimacy, and power by means of the grossness and severity of the\ncontradiction which yearns for resolution. We may therefore without\nfear assert that the entire asperity and dissonance of the suffering,\ntorture, and agony, which such a contradiction brings in its train,\nis inseparable from the very nature of spiritual life, whose final\nconsolation constitutes here the content.\n\nThis process of Spirit is, if accepted frankly for all it implies and\nunfolds, the essence, the notion of Spirit absolutely. It consequently\ndetermines for conscious life that _universal history_[226] which is\nfor ever repeated in every individual consciousness. For it is nothing\nless or more than this consciousness as the universal mind or Spirit\nis explicated in the multiplicity of individual life, reality and\nexistence. In the first instance, however, for the reason that the\nessential significance of the spiritual process is concentrated in that\nmode of reality which is purely individual, this universal history\ncomes before us itself merely in the form of _one_ person, to which it\nis conjoined as its own, as the history, that is, of his birth, his\nsuffering, death, and return from death; at the same time there is the\nfurther significance attached to this personal history, namely, that it\nis the history of universal and absolute Spirit itself.\n\nThe supreme turning-point of this life of God is the putting aside of\nindividual existence as the life of a _particular_ man simply--the\nstory of the Passion, the suffering on the Cross, the Calvary of\nSpirit, the agony of death. In so far as the content here comprises\nthe fact that the external and bodily form--immediate existence in\nits personal mode--is, in the pain of its inherent contradiction,\npropounded in this aspect of negation in order that Spirit may secure\nits truth and its blessedness by the sacrifice of the sensuous and its\nindividual singularity, to that extent we reach the extreme line of\ndivision between it as an artistic creation and the classic or plastic\nIdeal. From one point of view no doubt the earthly body and the frailty\nof human Nature is expressly exalted and honoured in the fact that\nit is God Himself who is made manifest within it. On the other hand,\nhowever, it is just this human and bodily side which is posited as\nnegative, and declares itself in its pain. In the classic Ideal the\nundisturbed harmony in no way vanishes before the co-essential Spirit.\nThe main incidents of that Passion, the mocking of Christ, the crowning\nwith thorns, the carrying of the cross, the final death on the same in\nthe agony of a torturing and tedious death, are wholly incompatible\nwith the presentment of the Greek type of beauty. The lofty aspect in\nsuch situations as these is the essential holiness implied in them, the\ndepth of the Spirit's inmost, the eternal significance of the agony in\nits relation to the spiritual process, the endurance and Divine repose.\n\nThe personal environment of this sublime figure is in part composed\nof friends and in part of enemies. The friends are throughout no\nideal creations, but relatively to the notion[227], particular\nindividualities typical of ordinary men, which the impulse of Spirit\nattaches to Christ: the enemies, on the other hand, by virtue of the\nfact that they place themselves in hostility to God, judge, mock,\nput to torture, and crucify Him, are presented to us as spiritually\nevil, and this conception of their wickedness of heart and enmity\nto God brings in its train on its exterior side ugliness, grossness,\nbarbarity, the rage and distortion of Spirit. In all these respects,\nin contrast with the classical beauty we have before us in such\nrepresentations the non-beautiful as an inevitable concomitant.\n\n(_\u03b3_) The process of death, however, in the Divine nature is only\nto be regarded as a point of transition, by means of which the\nself-reconcilement of Spirit is effected; and the aspects of the Divine\nand human, the out and out universal and the phenomenal individuality,\nto mediate the division of which is the main object in view, are\npositively suffered to coalesce. This positive affirmation, which is\nthe underlying root and origination of the process, is consequently\nalso forced to exhibit itself in a like positive way. As emphatic\nsituations in the Christ-history the resurrection and ascension supply\nconspicuously the very means to put that affirmation in the clearest\nlight. In more isolated fashion we have over and above this for the\nsame purpose those occasions in which Christ appears to His own as\nteacher. Here, however, plastic art is confronted with an exceptional\nsituation of difficulty. For in a measure it is Spirit in its purity,\nwhich is to be presented in this very impalpable ideality, and in a\nmeasure, too, it is nothing less than absolute Spirit, which in the\nfull pregnancy of its infinitude and universality is affirmatively\npropounded in union with an individual consciousness and exalted above\nimmediate existence; and yet notwithstanding such preconceptions it has\nundertaken the task to envisage for sense in the bodily configuration\nof this person the entire expression of the infinite and innermost\nspiritual profundity which it refers to him[228].\n\n\n2. RELIGIOUS LOVE\n\nMind in its ultimate and most complete explication as reason is, as\nsuch, not the immediate object of art. Its highest and most essentially\nrealized reconciliation can only find such satisfied consummation in\nthe intellectual medium as such, that is to say, the ideal medium which\nis withdrawn from the reach of artistic expression; for absolute Truth\nstands on a higher level than the show of beauty, which is unable\nto break away from the sensuous and phenomenal. If, then, Spirit is\nto receive an existence as _Spirit_ in its positive reconciliation\nthrough the medium of art, an existence which is apprehended not merely\nas ideal, in other words, as pure thought, but can be _felt_ and\n_envisaged_, it follows that the only mode left to us, which supplies\nthis two-fold condition of spirituality on the one hand and of its\ncapability of being conceived and presented by art on the other, is\nthat of the inner realm of Spirit itself, what we understand by the\nsoul and its emotional experience. And the condition of that kingdom\nwhich alone fully answers to the notion of free Spirit brought into\npeace and joy with itself is _Love._\n\n(_a_) In other words, if we look at the content, we shall see that its\narticulation is in its important features similar to the fundamental\nnotion of absolute Spirit, the return of a reconciled presence from\nits Other to itself. This Other in the sense of the Other, in which\nSpirit continues by itself, can only be itself something spiritual,\nor rather a spiritual personality. The true essence of love consists\nin the surrender of the self-consciousness, in the forgetting oneself\nin another self, yet for all that to have and possess oneself for the\nfirst time in this very act of surrender and oblivion. This mediation\nof Spirit with itself and surcharge of its own to the unit of totality\nis the Absolute, not, however, of course, under the mode in which the\nAbsolute coalesces with itself as merely singular and thereby finite\nindividuality in another finite subject; rather the content of the\nspiritual individuality which is here self-mediated in another is the\nAbsolute itself. It is, in short, Spirit which is only the knowledge\nand volition of its own substance as the Absolute by being in another,\nand which receives therewith the fruition of such knowledge.\n\n(_b_) More closely regarded this content as love has the form of\nself-concentrated emotion, which, instead of making its content more\nexplicit, that is to say, presenting it to consciousness in its\ndefinite terms and universality, rather converges the infinite breadth\nof the same directly to one focus in the clear profundity of the soul,\nwithout further unfolding in other directions for the imagination the\nwealth which it essentially includes. By this means a content of equal\nsignificance, which would be inconformable to artistic presentation,\nis fresh from the mint of its pure and ideal universality, is none the\nless capable of being the subject-matter of art in this individual\nexistence of subjective emotion; for while under a mode such as this it\nis not on the one hand compelled to accept an articulation of perfect\nclarity by reason of its still undisclosed depth, which is the obvious\ncharacteristic of soul-life, yet on the other hand it receives under\nthis mode a medium that it is possible for art to make use of. For\nsoul-life, heart, feeling, however self-contained and spiritual they\nmay remain, have none the less a bond of affiliation with the sensuous\nand material, so that they are able also on the outside show of things\nthrough the bodily members themselves, through a look, the facial\nexpression, or in a still more spiritual way through the voice tones\nor a word to disclose the inmost life and existence of Spirit. But\nthis exterior medium is in such a case only acceptable in so far as it\nstrictly expresses this most intimate life of soul in ways that reflect\nthe inward nature of the soul itself.\n\n(_c_) We defined the notion of the Ideal to be the reconciliation of\nthe inward life with its reality; we may now in like manner point\nto the emotion of love as _the Ideal_ of romantic art in the sphere\nof the religious consciousness. It is _spiritual_ beauty in its\npure emanation. The classic Ideal also exhibited the mediation and\nreconcilement of Spirit with its Other. But here the opposing factor\nof Spirit was the exterior medium suffused with that Spirit, it was\nits bodily organism. In love, on the contrary, the opposing presence\nof that which is spiritual is not the phenomenon of Nature, but a\nspiritual consciousness itself, another subject of such; and the\nrealization of Spirit is consequently effected by Spirit itself in its\nown kingdom, in that medium which is uniquely its own. It follows from\nthis that love in this its positive self-fruition and essentially\ntranquillized and blessed realization is ideal, but before everything\nelse _spiritual_ beauty, which can only be expressed for the sake of\nthe ideal virtue it possesses and further only in and as a part of\nthe inmost shrine of the soul. For that Spirit, which is present in\n_spirit_ to itself and is immediately aware of its own, which withal\npossesses what is spiritual for the substance and bottom of its very\nexistence, abides in intimacy with itself, and, best definition of all,\nis the inward being of Love.\n\n(_\u03b1_) God is Love; and consequently it is this most profound essence\nwhich, in this form native to artistic presentation, is thus\napprehended and presented in the person of Christ. Christ is, however,\n_Divine love_ in the sense that from one aspect of it declares God\nHimself as its object, that is, God in the mode of His invisible\nessence, and from another it as truly reveals humanity under the seal\nof its redemption; and for this reason it is not so much in Him[229]\nthat the passage of one individual into another particular individual\nis made manifest in His love, as the fact that we have here the _idea_\nof Love itself in its universality, in other words, the Absolute,\nthe spirit of Truth in the medium and mode of emotion. With the\nuniversality of its object the expression of Love is also universalized\nin pursuance of which the purely individual concentration of heart and\nsoul is not made the important point, just as among the Greeks in the\nancient Titan Eros and Venus Urania we find, though, of course, in an\nentirely different connection, that it is the universal idea rather\nthan the individual side of personal form and feeling which is the\nfactor emphasized. Only when Christ is, in the presentation of romantic\nart, rather conceived as at the same time the isolate self-absorbed\npersonality himself, is the expression of love clothed in the form of\nindividual inwardness, and even then it is, of course, always exalted\nand uplifted by the universality of the content.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The kind of love, however, which in this sphere of art is most\nwithin its reach and is generally the most successful object of the\nromantic and religious imagination, is the love of Mary, the mother's\nlove. It stands closest to Nature's reality, is very human, and yet\nentirely spiritual, without either the interest or the egotism of\nsensual desire, not sensuous and yet present inward bliss in its\nabsolute condition of fruition. It is a love that has no longing\nin it, not friendship, for friendship, albeit also so rich in soul\nquality, requires a substantive content, an essential material as the\nassociating object. A mother's love, on the contrary, possesses without\nany mutuality[230] of aim or interests an immediate basis in the\nnatural maternal bond. But in this particular case the mother's love\nis just as little restricted to the purely natural affiliation. Mary\npossesses in the child which she has carried under her heart and borne\nwith travail the perfected knowledge and feeling of her very self, and\nthis selfsame child, the blood of her blood, is also in equal degree\nexalted above her, and yet for all that she is conscious that this\nhigher belongs to herself, and is precisely that she gains in her act\nof self-oblivion and possession. The natural intimacy of the mother's\nlove is absolutely spiritualized, it receives for its very embodiment\nthe Divine; but this spiritual coherence remains lowly and unaware,\npermeated in a wonderful manner with the unity of Nature and the\nemotion of womanhood. It is the _blessed_ mother's love, and pertains\nonly to the _one_ mother, who first was recipient of its joy[231]. It\nis quite true that even this love is not without its pain, but the pain\nis merely the grief of loss, the lament over the suffering, dying, and\ndead son, and, as we shall find it at a later stage[232], has nothing\nto do with the injustice and torture suffered from a force without, or\nwith the infinite conflict with sin, still less with agonies and pangs\nthat arise in the soul. The inwardness of soul such as we have analysed\nis the beauty of Spirit, the Ideal, the human identification of man\nwith God, with Spirit, with Truth; oblivion in its pure selflessness,\nthe surrender of the ego, which, however, in this surrender, is from\nbeginning to end at unity with that in which it is absorbed, and it is\nin this coalescence that the feeling of blessedness is consummated.\n\nUnder such a fair aspect we have maternal love embodied in romantic\nart, and it is at the same time a picture of Spirit itself, because\nSpirit is only apprehensible by art in the form of feeling; and the\nfeeling of that union of the individual with God in its most original,\nmost real, and most vivid form is only present in the mother's love of\nthe Madonna. It must inevitably form the subject-matter of art, if in\nthe representation of this, the sphere of the religious imagination,\nthe Ideal, the affirmative reconciliation in its joy is not to\nfall short of its aim. There has consequently been a time when the\nmaternal love of the Blessed Virgin has been placed as the highest\nand holiest of Earth's possessions, and as such has been revered and\npresented to mankind. When, however, Spirit is brought before the human\nconsciousness in its own native element, separated, that is, from all\nunderlying emotion, the free mediation of Spirit that is built up on\nsuch a foundation can alone be regarded as the free road to Truth;\nand consequently we find that in Protestantism, as contrasted to this\nworship of Mary whether in art or belief, it is the Holy Spirit, and\nthe inmost mediation of Spirit which has become the loftier truth.\n\n(_\u03b3_) _Thirdly_, and in conclusion, the positive reconciliation of\nspiritual life is embodied in the feelings of Christ's own disciples,\nthe women and friends who follow him. Such are for the most part\ncharacters who have personally taken on themselves the severity of the\nidea of Christianity, hand iii hand with their Divine friend, by virtue\nof the friendship, teaching, and sermons of Christ, without passing\nthrough the external and inward pangs of spiritual conversion, who have\ncarried it forward, made themselves masters both of it and themselves,\nand in the depth of their hearts remain strong in the same. From such,\nno doubt, the immediate unity and intimacy of that mother's love in a\nmeasure vanishes; but they still possess as the bond which unites them\nthe presence of Christ, the common service to a great life which they\nshare, and the direct impulse of Spirit[233].\n\n\n3. THE SPIRIT OF THE COMMUNITY\n\nIn making our passage over to a concluding stage of the subject under\ndiscussion we can hardly do better than associate it with that which we\nhave already touched upon in connection with the history of Christ.\nThe immediate existence of Christ, as this particular man, who is God,\nis assumed to be wiped out, in other words, the truth itself asserts\nitself that in the manifestation of God as man, the true reality of\nGod thus envisaged is not immediate sensuous existence but Spirit.\nThe reality of the Absolute regarded as infinite subjectivity[234] is\nsimply Spirit itself; God is in knowledge, in the element of the inner\nlife, and only there. This absolute existence of God, as absolutely\nideal to the same extent as it is subjective[235] _universality_, does\nnot therefore admit of the limitations of this particular individual,\nwho has in the story of his life made manifest the reconciliation\nbetween the Divine and human self-consciousness, but on the contrary\nis enlarged to the full measure of the human consciousness which is\nreconciled to God, that is, in general terms to our _humanity_, which\nexists as an aggregate of many individuals. In his independence,\nhowever, taken, that is, as a specific personality, man is not under\nany immediate mode the Divine, but on the contrary finite and human,\nwhich only in so far as it really propounds itself as a negation, which\nit essentially is, and thereby annuls itself in this negative aspect,\ncan attain to the reconcilement with God. It is only by virtue of this\ndeliverance from the frailty of finitude that our humanity declares\nitself as the vehicle of the existence of the absolute Spirit, as the\nspirit of the community, in which the union of the human and Divine\nSpirit within the bounds of human reality itself, in the sense of its\nrealized mediation, carries into fulfilment what essentially, if we\nlook at it in the light of the notion of Spirit, it is from the first\nin that very union.\n\nThe principal modes which are of importance in respect to this new\ncontent of romantic art may be distinguished as follows:\n\nThe individual, who in his separation from God lives in a condition\nof sinfulness and conflict with the immediacy and frailty of finite\nexistence, possesses the eternal destiny to come into reconciliation\nwith himself and God. Inasmuch, however, as we find that in the\nredemption-history of Christ the negative relation of immediate\nsingularity is affirmed and declared an essential feature in the\nspiritual process, so, too, every particular individual is only through\na conversion from the natural state and his finite personality uplifted\nto the free condition and into the peace of God.\n\nThis abrogation of finitude asserts itself in a threefold manner as\nfollows:\n\n_First_, as the repetition in _actual life_ of the history of the\nPassion, a repetition of real bodily suffering--martyrdom.\n\n_Secondly_, the above conversion is removed to the _inmost_ life of\nsoul, as spiritual mediation by means of repentance, penance, and\nconversion.\n\n_Thirdly_, and finally the manifestation of the Divine is so conceived\nin the world of Nature's reality that the ordinary course of Nature\nand the natural mode of occurrences as they otherwise take place is\narrested, in order to display the might and presence of the Divine.\nWonder or miracle is consequently the form of presentation.\n\n\n(_a_) _The Martyrs_\n\nThe earliest mode under which the spirit of the community makes itself\nactively present in the human consciousness is effected when man forms\na mirror in himself of the Divine process and so makes himself a new\nform of existence for the eternal Life[236] of God. Here we find once\nmore that the expression of that immediate and positive reconciliation\ndisappears, inasmuch as man can only attain to this by abrogating his\nfinite existence. Everything, therefore, that was of central importance\nin the first stage returns to us again here only in an aggravated\ndegree, because the incompatibility and unworthiness of our humanity\nis here presupposed, and to remedy this defect is assumed to be man's\nsupreme and unique duty.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The specific content of this phase is consequently the endurance\nof torments, and along with such the individual's willing renunciation,\nsacrifice, and self-imposed renunciation with the express aim of\narousing sufferings, tortures, and anguish of every kind in order that\nSpirit may reveal itself therein, and feel itself in union with the\nfruition and blessedness of its heaven[237]. The negative aspect of\npain is an object in itself for the true martyr, and the greatness of\nthe revelation is such that it can treat with indifference the awful\naspect of that which man has thus suffered, and the dreadful nature of\nthat to which he submits himself. The first thing, then, which will\nbe brought beneath the ruthless mace of negation in order that the\nindividual who still experiences this drought of the soul may wean\nhimself from the world and become sanctified, will be his _natural_\nexistence, his life, the satisfaction of the most essential necessaries\nof his bodily existence. The main subject-matter therefore of the\ntype we are now dealing with will be torments of the body, sufferings\nwhich have been perpetrated on the believer either by his enemies and\npersecutors out of hatred and persecution, or have been deliberately\naccepted by himself on principle by way of expiation. In both cases\nthe individual accepts them in the full fanaticism of his readiness\nto endure, not, that is to say, as an injustice to himself, but as a\nblessing through which alone he is enabled to break down the walls of\nwhat he feels to be his sinful flesh, heart, and soul, and so obtain\nreconcilement with his God.\n\nIn so far, however, as this conversion of the soul can only manifest\nitself in such situations, in atrocities and awful treatment of the\nbodily frame the beauty of the presentation of such subjects may be\nvery readily impaired; and, in fact, we may say that the treatment\nof all subjects of this kind is a perilous undertaking for art. For,\non the one hand, it is obvious that individuals here, impressed as\nthey are wholly with the hall-mark of finite existence, and its\ninevitable blemishes and defects, will have to be represented in an\nentirely different atmosphere from that we claimed for the history of\nChrist's Passion; and, from a further point of view, we unfortunately\nmeet with unheard of agonies and horrors in such cases, distortion,\nand dislocation of limbs, bodily torments, scaffolds, decapitation,\nburning or roasting in oil, flaying alive, and every other sort of\nfrightful, repugnant, and loathsome abuse of the body, such as lie\nmuch too remote from beauty for any sane art to think of selecting\nthem for its subject-matter. The artistic dexterity of the artist may,\nin such cases, no doubt, so far as execution is concerned, be of the\nhighest class; but, at best, such manual dexterity will merely possess\na personal interest, we may indeed find before us the technique of an\nadmirable painter; but it will be equally obvious that all his efforts\nhave been unable to produce out of such material a harmonious work of\nart.\n\n(_\u03b2_) For these reasons it will be necessary that the artistic\npresentation of this negative process should emphasize another aspect\nof it, which stands out thereby above this agony of the body and soul,\nand establishes in relief the positive presence of reconciliation.\nThis is just that essential reconcilement of Spirit which is finally\nwon as the result sought for of the pain suffered. Under an aspect\nsuch as this the martyrs may be depicted as the guardians of the\nDivine in conflict with the grossness of material force and barbarism\nof unbelief. For the sake of their heavenly treasure they endure pain\nand death, and this courage, steadfastness, endurance, and consolation\nmust consequently, with equal truth, appear upon them. And yet for all\nthat this intimate possession of their faith and love in its spiritual\nbeauty is no sanity of soul which brings to them a sense of the sanity\nof their body; rather it is a sense of inward life, which has worked\nits way through their pain itself, or at least is made manifest in\ntheir suffering, and which, even in the moment of their ecstasy,\nretains the experience of pain as an essential condition of their\nbeatitude. The art of painting has, in particular, made this attitude\nof saintly humiliation the object of its efforts. What this art mainly\nshould strive after here is to delineate the bliss of such torments in\nthe pure and simple lines of the countenance and its expression, as\ncontrasted with the offensive laceration of the flesh; and to present\nsuch an ecstasy as may reflect the surrender and victory over pain,\nthe fruition, in short, of the Divine Presence in the temple of the\nsoul. If, on the contrary, the art of sculpture seeks to give a visible\nform to such a content, it will inevitably find itself less qualified\nto depict this ecstasy of soul-life at this strain of its intensity\nwith such a concentrated power, and will consequently be compelled to\nemphasize that aspect of pain and laceration in so far as it declares\nitself in its full force on the bodily frame.\n\n(_\u03b3_) _Thirdly_, it is to be observed that in the kind of examples\nwith which we are now dealing it is not merely the existence of Nature\nand immediate finite conditions which is affected by this attitude\nof self-abnegation and endurance, but the impulse of the soul is\ntransported by such feelings to an extreme point of this heavenly\nrapture to such an extent, in fact, that what is merely human and of\nthe world, even when it is essentially beyond reproach on ethical or\nrational grounds, is none the less thrust behind and scorned. In other\nwords, just in proportion as the Spirit, which here makes vivid to\nitself the idea of its conversion, is in the first instance deficient\nin an educated sense, to that extent it will with so much the more\nuncontrollable and logical frenzy--the entire force of its piety being\nconcentrated on this one object--turn its back on everything which\nas finite opposes this bare and abstract infinitude of its religious\nfanaticism, that is to say, on every definite human emotion, all\nthe manifold ethical impulses, relations, and obligations of the\nheart. For the moral life of the family, the bonds of friendship, of\nblood, of love, of the State, and a man's calling, every one of them\nbelong to the things of the world; and all that is of the world, in\nso far as it is not as yet suffused with the absolute conceptions of\nfaith and developed in unity and harmony with the same, appears to\nthis form of abstract spiritual intensity of the soul of faith so\nfar from being something acceptable to its emotional life and sense\nof obligation, that it is, on the contrary, a thing of no worth at\nall, and therefore both hostile and hurtful to its religious state.\nThe moral organism of the human world is consequently not as yet\nrespected, because its significant features and duties are not as\nyet recognized as necessary, integrated members in the concatenation\nof an essentially rational reality, in which nothing, it is true,\nought to assert itself in a one-sided and independent isolation, yet,\nnone the less, as an essential factor in the organic process, must\nbe maintained as such and not be sacrificed. In this respect the\nreligious reconciliation remains itself _one-sided_, and declares\nitself in the truly simple heart as an intensity of belief which\nis deficient in comprehensiveness, that is, as the piety of the\nself-secluded soul, which has not yet attained in its growth to the\nfully expanded self-reliance of maturity, and to conviction based on\ngenuine insight and circumspection. When the force of a soul deficient\nin these qualities maintains its opposition to the world which is\nthus treated in a purely negative way, and forcefully breaks loose\nfrom all human ties, even though they may originally be the very\nclosest, we can only characterize such conduct as the rawness of Spirit\nand a barbaric result of the power of abstraction, which is simply\nrepulsive. So we may say that though from the point of view of the\nreligious consciousness, as we find it to-day, it is indeed possible\nto honour, and to honour highly, this opening germ of religiosity in\nsuch representations, if, however, such a pious tendency proceeds to\nsuch lengths that we find it advancing to lay siege to what is both\nessentially rational and moral, then, so far from sympathizing with\nsuch a fanaticism of sanctity, we can only protest that a kind of\nabnegation such as this, which casts off from itself, shatters and\ntreads upon that which is independently justifiable, and even sacred,\nappears to us both immoral in itself and subversive of the very type\nof religion it represents. There are many legends, tales, and poems\nwhich deal with this extreme form of the pious craze. We have, for\nexample, the tale of a man who, though full of tenderness for his wife\nand family, and, moreover, beloved by all his friends, leaves his home\nand makes a pilgrimage. When at last he returns home in the guise of\na beggar he refuses to disclose his identity. Alms are given him,\nand out of compassion a permanent lodging provided under the stairs.\nIn this plight he lives for twenty years; he sees the grief of his\nfamily on his account, and only declares who he is on his death-bed.\nThis kind of thing, which we are asked to revere as sanctity, is, of\ncourse, merely the egotism of a fanatic which revolts us. This long\nendurance of renunciation may remind us of the distrait nature of\nthose penances, which the Hindoos voluntarily impose on themselves\non religious grounds. But the endurance of the Hindoo has a very\ndifferent significance. In that case a man deliberately places himself\nin a condition of vacuum and unconsciousness; in the case which we\nare now considering the _pain_, and the deliberate consciousness and\nfeeling of the same is the real object, which it is assumed will be\nattained with just so much more purity as the suffering is associated\nwith the consciousness of the value of and devotion to the severities\nwhich are accepted, and is, moreover, united with a vision for ever\nconcentrated on the renunciation thus made. The richer the heart which\ntakes on itself the burden of such ordeals, the nobler the content\nof its own possessions, and yet withal believes that it is bound to\ncondemn them as of no merit, just so much the more difficult grows the\ntask of reconciliation, and the more prone it is to bring about the\nmost terrible convulsions and the most raving distraction. Indeed, to\nour vision, it is clear enough that a soul such as this, which is only\nat home in a world which, however full of ideas, is not the world of\ncommon experience, and which consequently only feels its grasp slipping\nfrom the stable and paramount centres of activity and aims of this our\nactual world, ay, and although it be with heart and soul held in and\nassociated with that world, yet regards all that is moral there simply\nas something which contradicts its absolute destination--we can only\nsay that such a soul, both in its self-inflicted sufferings and its\nrenunciations, is from the rational point of view simply mad, so mad\nthat we can neither feel any profound compassion for it, nor propose\nany means of liberation. What is lamentably lacking to a mode of life\nof this kind is an object of real substance and valid significance;\nwhat it proposes to secure is an aim wholly personal, an object sought\nfor by the individual for himself alone, for the salvation of his own\nsoul, for his own blessedness. Few are likely to concern themselves\nvery deeply whether an individual, at any rate one of this type, is or\never will be happy[238].\n\n(_b_) _The inward Penance and Conversion_\n\nThe kind of representation, in the same general class of cases which\nwe shall now contrast with the one above examined, turns aside from\nthe extremity of merely bodily suffering, as it is also from a further\npoint of view more indifferent to the purely negative impulse directed\nagainst what is essentially just and right in the actual conditions of\nthe world; the material of such representations consequently, both in\nrespect to its content and its form, opens up a ground which is more\nconformable with ideal art. And this ground is the conversion of the\n_inner_ life of the soul, which only here seeks to express itself in\nits _spiritual_ pain, and its change of heart. Here, therefore, we\nfind in the first place that we have no more of those ever repeated\nhorrors and barbarities of pain inflicted on man's poor body: and,\nsecondly, that which we have referred to as the barbarian religiosity\nof the soul no longer holds fast to its antagonism as against the\npurely ethical aspects of humanity in order to trample under iron foot\nin the abstraction of its purely conceptive satisfaction[239], and\nin the pain of an absolute renunciation that other kind of sensuous\nenjoyment; for the most part its attention is now solely directed\nagainst what is in fact sinful, criminal, and evil in human Nature.\nWe find here a lofty assurance that faith, this spiritual impulse\ntowards God, is capable of converting the past action, even though it\nbe a sin or a crime, into something alien to the man who perpetrated\nit, washing it away in fact. This withdrawal out of evil, that wholly\nnegative condition, which is realized in the individual by the\nsubjective volition and spirit at once scorning and confounding itself\nunder its former state of evil--this return to the positive which\nis now self-established as the only real in contrast to the former\nstate of sinfulness, is the truly infinite content of religious love,\nthe presence and actuality of absolute Spirit in the individual soul\nitself. The feeling of the stability and endurability of the personal\nexistence, which through God, to which it addresses itself, triumphs\nover evil, and in so far as it is thus mediated with Him is aware\nof itself as one with Him, produces as its effect the fruition and\nblessedness of contemplating God, it is true, in the first instance\nas the absolute Other in His opposition to the sin inherent in finite\nexistence, but further of knowing this Infinite Presence as identical\nwith me as this particular person, of knowing, in short, that I carry\nthis self-consciousness of God, as the seat of my own personality,\nthat is to say, my own self-consciousness, as certainly as I carry\nthe sense of my own self-identity. Such a revolution takes place no\ndoubt entirely within the shrine of the soul, and belongs, therefore,\nrather to religion than art: for the reason, however, that it is the\nintimate movement of the soul, which pre-eminently makes itself master\nof this act of conversion, and also is able to throw a gleam of light\nthrough the external embodiment, a plastic art such as painting can\nalso claim to make visible the history of such conversions. If it\nattempts, however, to depict the entire course of events which belong\nto such a transition, much that is very far from being beautiful may\nreadily appear in the result, because in such a case both that which is\nsinful and repulsive requires to be depicted, as, for example, in the\nstory of the prodigal son. Painting, therefore, achieves its greatest\nsuccess when it concentrates the act of conversion into _one_ picture\nwhere that is the prevailing motive, and pays little or no attention\nto the previous course of events. The ordinary presentations of Mary\nMagdelene may be noted as an admirable example of this kind of work,\nand particularly in the hands of the old Italian masters has been\ntreated in a way both excellent in itself and throughout consistently\nwith fine Art. She is depicted here both in the characterization of her\nsoul and her external presence as the _fair sinner_, in whom the sin no\nless than the sanctity is intended to exercise a sort of fascination\non the spectator. But at the same time neither sin nor sanctity are\ntreated with any great intensity. She is forgiven much because she has\nloved much, and her forgiveness is in a measure the portion both of her\nlove and her beauty. And what affects us most of all in this picture\nis this, that she makes for herself a conscience as it were out of\nher love, and robed in the beauty of her sensitive soul pours forth\nher sorrow in a flood of tears. We are not led to feel that the fact\nthat she has loved so much is her error, but rather that her fair and\nfascinating folly is this, namely, that she _believes_ herself to be a\nsinner,[240] for her exquisitely sensitive beauty only leaves us the\nimpression that in her love she is both noble and profound.\n\n(_c_) _Miracles and Legends_\n\nThe final aspect, which is closely associated with the two above\nconsidered, and is frequently asserted as a concomitant of both, is\nthat of miracle. It plays in fact an important part throughout this\nstage of our inquiry. In this connection we may define miracle as the\nconversion-history of the immediate existence of Nature. Such reality\nlies before us as a commonplace, contingent existence. This finite\nsubstance is touched by the hand of God, which, in so far as it strikes\nupon what is purely external and particular, breaks it up, transmutes\nit into something entirely different, interrupting what in ordinary\nparlance we call the natural course of things. To bring before us the\nsoul arrested by such inexplicable phenomena, in which it imagines it\nrecognizes the presence of the Divine, vanquished, in short, in its\nordinary view of finite events, this is the main subject-matter of\na host of legends. In fact, however, the Divine can only touch and\ndominate Nature as Reason, that is, in the unalterable laws of Nature\nherself, as implanted therein by God, and the Divine has no occasion\nto exploit Himself in the supreme sense of this term in particular\ncircumstances and modes of causation which run contrary to these\nlaws of Nature, for it is only the eternal laws and determinations\nof reason which apply in any real sense to Nature. From another\npoint of view legends frequently carry with them quite unnecessarily\nan amount of matter which is abstruse, out of taste, senseless, and\nridiculous, inasmuch as the intention is that both intellect and heart\nshould be stimulated to believe in the presence and activity of God\nby precisely those things which are essentially irrational, false,\nand heathenish. The consequent emotion, piety, and conversion of the\nsoul may even then awake our interest, but in that case it is only\non the _one_ side, namely, that of the soul: so soon as that enters\ninto relation with somewhat else outside it, and the idea is that this\nexternal correlative shall effect the conversion of the heart, then we\ninevitably require that such should not be wholly a meaningless and\nirrational sequence of events.\n\nSuch, then, would be the fundamental divisions of the substantive\ncontent at this particular stage of our inquiry, regarding that content\nas the self-subsistent Nature of God, or in its aspect as a spiritual\nprocess, through which and in which He is Spirit. We have here the\nabsolute object, which art neither creates nor reveals out of itself,\nbut which it has received from religion which it approaches with the\nconviction that it is _essentially_ true that it may express and\nrepresent the same conformably to its modes. It is the content of the\nbelieving, yearning soul, which is intrinsically the infinite totality\nitself, so that for it the external medium remains to a more or less\ndegree outside it, or a matter of indifference, and is unable to be\nbrought completely into harmony with that inner life. And for this\nreason it frequently presents a repellent material which art finds\nitself unable wholly to subdue to its aims.\n\n[Footnote 224: _Nicht aufnehmend._ Not ready to absorb extraneous\nmatter.]\n\n[Footnote 225: This of course is an opinion which may be strongly\ncontested in its application to particular artists.]\n\n[Footnote 226: Hegel means not so much the history in which the whole\ntotality of events is comprised as that aspect of human history which\ndeclares its universal significance as infinite spirit.]\n\n[Footnote 227: That is, of self-consciousness in all that it\nimplies--the personality of Christ, for example.]\n\n[Footnote 228: Hegel does not further dwell upon this relativity. But\nthe next paragraph explains what is really in his mind. The important\nquestion, however, how far such events are worthy of credence as\nobjective history, to say nothing of the inadequacy of their artistic\npresentation, one cannot but feel is deliberately evaded. What Hegel\nwould say no doubt was that the bare historical aspect was only of\nrelative importance. The main question was their significance in the\nspiritual process. It is in this direction that much of our noblest\nmodern thought finds a certain indissoluble unreality of statement.]\n\n[Footnote 229: That is in Christ.]\n\n[Footnote 230: _Gleichkeit._ Equality, reciprocity.]\n\n[Footnote 231: We are reminded of our treasures in Christian art such\nas the Virgin and Child in Tintoret's \"Flight into Egypt,\" Rafael's\nSan, Sisto Madonna and the rest.]\n\n[Footnote 232: In other words as regarded at a later date by the\nChurch.]\n\n[Footnote 233: This statement hardly does justice to the profound\nidealism of the epistles of St. Paul.]\n\n[Footnote 234: Perhaps \"the infinite form of subjectivity\" is better.\nHe means \"the infinite form of individual self-consciousness.\"]\n\n[Footnote 235: That is, characterized by personality.]\n\n[Footnote 236: _Geschichte._ Life as an evolved Process.]\n\n[Footnote 237: Compare the poem of Meredith, \"Theodolinda,\" in his\nballads of the Tragic Life. It is, in another aspect, that iron crown\nwhich that thoughtful contemporary writer, Mr. H. W. Nevinson, refers\nto in his Essays on Rebellion.]\n\n[Footnote 238: The elimination even of sympathy with such fanaticism\nwhere it is quite sincere, a rare case no doubt, seems severe. The\nbest illustration in modern literature I know of the principle \"all\nor nothing,\" is Ibsen's great drama \"Brandt.\" Readers of Carlyle will\ndoubtless recall from \"Past and Present\" and elsewhere that prophet's\nrepeated denunciations of the craze for personal happiness.]\n\n[Footnote 239: By _intellectuellen Befriedigung_ Hegel does not mean\n\"intellectual\" in a good sense, but merely that the man imagines his\nhappiness in his mind rather than feels it through the senses. The\npsychology of religious ecstasy, however, is a rather involved problem.]\n\n[Footnote 240: This analysis is rather surprising. Did Hegel, the\nrobust Swabian, really think the above the finest type of art's\npresentations of the Magdalene? Does it not lean very closely to that\nsoft sentimentalism which a Carlo Dolci gives us in its decadence? At\nany rate the idea that the Magdalene was not really a sinner flatly\ncontradicts the original references to her in the gospels, and to\nmy mind at any rate seems from the artistic point of view also to\ndestroy half the rare beauty of her repentance. The principle of\nsuch an interpretation is surely the entirely pagan one, whether\nGreek or French, that a great passion is its own justification\nquite irrespective of moral considerations. She is the historical\nimpersonation of the frailty of a love too dependent on the senses,\nnot of one in which either nobility of bearing or extreme selflessness\nis conspicuous. Hegel's analysis may be true enough of certain\npictures--but do they really present us the ideal; most assuredly not.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nCHIVALRY\n\nThe principle of the essentially infinite subjective consciousness\npossesses for the content of faith and art in the first instance, as\nwe have already discovered, the Absolute itself, in other words the\nSpirit of God as it is mediated and reconciled with the conscious\nspirit of man and thereby is first itself independently free. This\nromantic mysticism in its self-limitation to the sense of blessedness\nin the Absolute Presence remains a mode of spiritual inwardness which\nis abstract, because it confronts the things of the world in opposition\nand rejects the same. Faith is, in an abstraction of this kind,\nalienated from life, from the concrete reality of human existence,\nremoved from the positive relations of mankind to one another, who only\nknow and love each other in faith, and for the sake of their belief\nas completely bound together in yet a third association, namely, the\nspirit of the Christ community. This association is alone the clear\nspring in which the image of that blessedness is reflected, without\nit being necessary for man to look his brother first in the face, to\nenter into any direct relation with another, or to experience the\nunity of love, of trust, of confidence, of mutual aims and actions\nin contact with the living concrete presence. That which constitutes\nthe hope and yearning of the inner life man here, in this sense of\nexclusive religious intimacy, can only discover as actual life in the\nkingdom of God, in the society of the Church. He has not as yet[241]\nwithdrawn this single identity in a third factor from his conscious\nlife in order that he may possess all that he is really himself in\nhis entire spiritual concreteness no less before his eyes directly\nin the knowledge and volition of that other whole. The collective\nreligious content, it is true, assumes the mode of real existence, but\nit is still an existence which is located in the ideal world of an\nimagination which consumes the expanding boundaries of actual life. It\nis still far away from attempting to satisfy its own life also in that\nabundance which it receives from the world and its realization in the\nworld as the higher demand in the medium of life itself.\n\nIt follows that the soul which found its initial consummation in the\nsimple feeling of Divine blessedness must step forth from this heavenly\nkingdom peculiar to the _religious_ sphere, must undertake the effort\nof self-introspection and assimilate a content which is, as vitally\npresent, adequate to the demands of the individual consciousness in\nits fullest extension. And in this process that which was before a\n_religious_ coalescence of soul is changed to one of _secular_ type.\nChrist indeed said; \"Ye must leave father and mother, and follow Me.\"\nAnd in the like spirit: \"Brother shall hate brother; men shall crucify\nyou and persecute you.\" But as soon as the kingdom of God has secured\na foothold in the world, and is actively employed in transfusing with\nits spirit and illumining the aims and interests of that world; when\nfather, mother, and brother are already numbered in the community,\nthen the things of the world on their side commence to assert their\njust claim to recognition and furtherance. If this claim is not merely\nfought for but vindicated then also the negative attitude of the\nreligious spirit, which was at first exclusively hostile to all that\nwas merely human, vanishes; the spirit of man enlarges, it explores\nthe full scope of its actual presence, and unfolds its heart in the\nentire world of reality[242]. The fundamental principle suffers no\nalteration; the substantive and infinite self-consciousness merely\ndirects its attention to another province of its own kingdom. We may\nperhaps define this transition in the statement that the individual\nsingularity is now as such singularity independent of its mediation\nwith God and self-subsistently free. For precisely in that mediation,\nwhereby it divested itself of its purely finite limitation and natural\nlife, it has passed over the path of mere negation, and reappears\nafter having thus secured an essentially _affirmative_ position,\nin the condition of a consciousness that is free and as such makes\nthe demand that it shall, in virtue of its own infinitude, though\nthe infinitude is here only in the first instance one of pure form,\nsecure complete recognition both for itself and others. In this the\nreligious mode of the individual consciousness is reposed the entire\nspiritual wealth of the infinite soul, which it has hitherto filled\nup with God. If we, however, made the inquiry, of what material the\nheart of man is suffused in this its inward repletion, such a content\nmerely concerns the infinite relation of the subjective consciousness\nin its active self-relation; it is simply replete with its own\nformal medium, that is, as essentially infinite singularity without\nfurther and more concrete expansion and significance as a content of\ninterests, aims, and actions which is itself essentially objective\nand substantive[243]. If we further examine the matter, however, more\nclosely we shall see there are in the main _three_ emotions, which\nin their independence rise up in the individual soul to the level of\nthis infinite mode, namely personal _honour, love_, and _fidelity._\nThey are not so much moral qualities and virtues as simply modes which\ninform the intimate presence of the individual soul when fulfilled\nwith its own self-relation as such is recognized by romance. For the\npersonal self-subsistency for which _honour_ contends does not assert\nitself as intrepitude on behalf of a communal weal, and the repute\nof thoroughness in relation to it and integrity of private life.\nOn the contrary it contends simply for the recognition and formal\ninviolability of the individual person. The same principle applies to\n_love_, which forms the central subject-matter of this sphere. It is\nmerely the adventitious passion of one individual for another; and\nhowever much it may expand under the wand of imagination or may be\ndeepened by excess of emotion, it is for all that neither the ethical\nrelation of marriage or family. _Fidelity_ possesses no doubt more\nthe appearance of a moral character, inasmuch as it does not merely\nwill its own but holds fast to something higher, something shared\nwith itself, surrenders itself to another's will, whether it be the\nwish or behest of a master, and thereby renounces the personal desire\nand independence of its own particular volition. But the feeling of\nloyalty does not concern the objective interest of the social weal\nin its independent form, that is, in the concrete freedom of the\ndeveloped state life, but associates itself merely with the _person_\nof a master, who, in his own fashion, acts with independence, or\nconcentrates himself in more general relations and is active on their\nbehalf[244]. These three modes of feeling taken together and as they\nreciprocally affect one another constitute with the exception of the\nreligious relation, which also has its part to play here, the principal\ncontent of _chivalry_, and furnish the necessary steps of advance\nfrom the principle of purely religious enthusiasm to the entrance of\nthe individual soul into the concrete social life of the world, in\nthe kingdom of which romantic art now secures a platform on which it\ncan from its own resources work out its independence, and at the same\ntime embody a freer type of beauty. It stands here, so to speak, in\nthe free room midway between the absolute content of the independently\nstable religious conceptions and the varied particularity and\nrestricted boundaries of the finite world. Among the various arts it is\npre-eminently poetry which has shown itself most qualified to master\nsuch a material, its modes of expression being directed to the life of\nthe soul as wholly occupied with its own domain and as realized in its\naims and events.\n\nInasmuch as we now have before us a material which man takes possession\nof in his own spiritual life, or rather, from the world of his pure\nhumanity, we might at first suppose that romantic art occupied the\nsame ground as that of classic art. This, therefore, is an excellent\nopportunity for placing them together both in comparison and\ncontrast. We have already defined classical art the Ideal of humanity\ncertified as true in its objective self-subsistence. Its imaginative\nvitality requires as its core a content which is substantive in type\nand excludes an ethical pathos. The Homeric poems, the tragedies of\nSophocles and Aeschylus, are in the main concerned with interests\nof an absolutely factual content, an austere treatment of the\npassions reflected therein, a solid style of speech and execution in\nconformity with the nature of the ideas expressed, and above this\ndomain of heroes and other figures which alone are in their individual\nself-concentration at home in such an atmosphere of pathos we have\nthe realm of the gods at a still more advanced stage of objective\npresentment. Even in the case where art, in more introspective fashion,\nis occupied with the infinite experiments of sculpture, bas-reliefs and\nsimilar forms, or the later elegies, epigrams, and other diversions\nof lyrical poetry, we still have the same type before us, that is to\nsay, the type which portrays the object more or less as it finds it,\nand obedient to the claim that it already has secured its constructive\npresentment. We have, in short, represented figures of the imagination\nalready established and defined in their characterization such as\nVenus, Bacchus, or the Muses. It is just the same with the later\nepigrams, where we get the description of a material already to hand\nor, as in the case of Meleager, a posy of well-known flowers, bound\ntogether with the cords of exquisite feeling and taste. It is, in\nshort, an exhilarating mode of activity carried on in a wealthily\nfurnished house overflowing in its stores with every kind of bounty,\nimage and provision for every conceivable object. The poet and the\nartist is simply the magician, who wafts them into use, collects and\ngroups them.\n\nIt is wholly different in romantic poetry. In so far as it is of the\nworld worldly, and is not directly associated with the story of our\nLord, the virtues and objects of its heroism are not those of the\nGreek heroes, whose type of morality Christendom in its early days\nsimply regarded as a brilliant enormity. Greek morality presupposes\nthe presence of humanity in its complete configuration, in which\nthe volition then and there as it ought to act conformably to its\nessential notion of independence has received a definite content and\nthe actual conditions of freedom imperatively valid such as belong to\nthat content. Such are the relations of parents and children, married\npersons, or of citizens of city or State in the realized liberty of\nsuch. Now inasmuch as this objective content of human affairs belongs\nto the _evolution_ of man's spirit on the basis of Nature cognized\nand insured as actual fact, it is unable any longer to satisfy that\nself-absorbed introspection of the religious life, which seeks to\ndestroy the natural aspect of human life, and must deviate considerably\nfrom the virtue of humility which opposes it, and the surrender of\nhuman freedom and its staunch self-dependence. The virtues of Christian\npiety simply prove the death of such a world-attitude if held in their\nextreme of abstraction, and only make the individual free, when he\nabsolutely denies the human part of him. The individual freedom of our\npresent sphere is no doubt no longer conditioned by mere endurance\nand self-sacrifice but essentially positive in the world arena; that\ninfinite self-relation of the individual has, however, as we have\nalready discovered, the inward realm of the soul as its content and\nonly that, the subjective soul, that is, whose movement is in its own\npeculiar medium, as the secular ground of its own domain. In this\nconnection poetry does not draw from any objective material already\npresented it, no mythology, for instance, no imaginative pictures\nand embodiments, which already lie ready waiting for its expression.\nIt stands there wholly free, without any extraneous matter, purely\ncreative and productive. It is free as a bird that sings straight\nfrom its breast. It follows, then, if this subjective activity\nproceeds also from a noble will and a profound soul, we shall merely\nhave in its workings and relations and existence the evidence of\ncaprice and contingency, for the reason that freedom and its aims\nproceed, relatively to a content which is throughout immaterial, from\ninternal self-reflection. And, consequently, we do not find so much in\nindividuals a particular pathos in the Greek conception of the term\nand a vital self-subsistency of character associated with it by the\nclosest bonds, as that which is simply a grade of heroic conception in\nits connection with love, honour, bravery, and fidelity; a grade into\nwhich it is mainly the nobility or depravity of soul which imports the\ndistinguishing features. The characteristic trait, however, which the\nheroes of the Middle Ages possess in common with those of antiquity\nis that of _bravery._ Yet even this receives a totally different\ncomplexion. It is not so much a natural courage, which reposes on the\ncharacter that is sane and sound, and flows forth from the growth of\nan unimpaired robustness of body and will, assisting the execution of\nobjective interests. Rather it is the outcome of the secret wealth of\nthe soul, its honour and chivalry, and is in the main a creation of\nthe phantasy, which undertakes adventures that have their origin in\nindividual caprice and the chance intricacies of external circumstance\nor the impulses of mystical piety, and we may add generally the\npersonal attitude of the individual.\n\nThis romantic type of art finds a home, then, in two hemispheres, in\nthe Western world as this penetration into the more intimate shrine of\nSpirit, in the Eastern this its first expansion of the self-absorbed\nconsciousness as it frees itself from the finite environment. In the\nWest poetry reposes on a soul which is withdrawn upon its resources,\nwhich has become the centre of its activity, yet possesses this flavour\nof secularly merely as one part of its complexion, as one aspect, over\nwhich is superposed a yet loftier world of belief. In the East it is\nthe Arab above all, who as a solitary,[245] who in the first instance\nhas nothing before his eyes but his dried-up desert and his heavens,\nstands forth in the full strength of life as the proclaimer of the\nsplendour and primary extension of the world of Nature, and thereby\nstill preserves at the same time the freedom of his soul. And generally\nwe may say that in the Orient it is the Mohammedan religion, which\nhas cleared the ground, made an end of all idolatry in the service\nof finite things or the imagination, and given the soul at the same\ntime the personal freedom, which wholly floods the same, so that the\nsecularity does not here only constitute another province, but runs\nbeyond it into the universal licence, where heart and mind, without\nascribing any objective reality to God, find their reconciliation in\nthe jubilant lust of living just like beggars by throwing the glory\nof their fancy on the objects around them: enjoy their loves and are\nhappy, blessed, and contented.\n\n\n1. HONOUR\n\nThe motive of honour was unknown to ancient classic art. In the \"Iliad\"\nit is quite true that the wrath of Achilles constitutes both the\ncontent and the motive principle, so that the entire series of events\nis dependent upon it; but what we moderns understand by the term honour\nis not grasped here at all. Achilles believes himself to be insulted\nto all intents and purposes only in the fact that the share in the\nbooty which he considers justly to belong to him and the reward of\nhis personal merits, his _\u03b3\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2_, has been taken away by Agamemnon.\nThe insult here has a direct reference to something actual, a bounty,\nin which no doubt a privilege, a recognition of fame and bravery was\nreposed, and Achilles is enraged because Agamemnon meets him unworthily\nand lets the Greeks know that they are not to pay any attention to\nhim. An insult of this kind is not driven home to the real centre\nof personality in its abstract purity; in fact Achilles expresses\nhimself satisfied with the restitution of the abducted slave and the\naddition of other goods and bounties, and Agamemnon finally makes this\nreparation although from our point of view they have both insulted one\nanother in the grossest fashion. Maledictions of this kind, however,\nhave only made them angry; and, after all, the particular insult, which\nhas reference to a matter of fact, is done away with in the same matter\nof fact fashion.\n\n(_a_) The honour of romance is, on the contrary, of another kind.\nInsult has no reference here to the factual values of real things,\nproperty, status, obligation, etc., but to personality simply, and\nits idea of its own importance, the work which the individual claims\nas his right. This worth is in the cases we are now discussing of\nan infinite significance equal to that of personality itself. In\nhonour, therefore, man possesses the earliest positive consciousness\nof his infinite spiritual medium, independent of the content. What\nthe individual has, what in him something peculiar creates, after\nthe loss of which it may yet subsist precisely as it did before--in\nthis elusive something the absolute validity of the entire subjective\nlife is reposed and apprehended in it both for itself and others.\nThe determining measure of honour therefore does not depend on what\nthe individual really is, but on what is contained in this personal\nself-regard. This regard, however, raises all particularity to the\nlevel of the universal conception that the personal core in its full\nsignificance resides in this particularity which it claims as its own.\nHonour is merely an outward show it is sometimes said. No doubt this is\nso: but from our present point of view we must, if we look at it more\nnarrowly, accept it as the appearance and reappearance of the personal\nmedium self-reflected, which as the semblance of an entity essentially\ninfinite is itself infinite. And through this infinitude it is just\nthis show or semblance of honour which is the real existence of the\nindividual, its highest actuality; and every particular quality, into\nwhich honour is reflected and appropriates as its own is by virtue of\nthis show exalted itself to an infinite worth. This type of honour\nconstitutes a fundamental determinant in the romantic world, and\npresupposes that man has not merely passed beyond the limits of purely\nreligious conception and inward life, but actually entered the arena\nof the great world and makes itself vital in the material of the same\nsimply by virtue of the pure medium of its personal self-subsistence\nand absolute intension[246].\n\nThe _content_ of honour may be of the most varied kind. For everything\nthat I am, do, or is done to me by others affects my honour. We may\nconsequently reckon within its boundaries the out and out substantive\nitself, loyalty towards princes, fatherland, a man's profession,\nfulfilment of obligations, marital fidelity, integrity in business\naffairs and conscientiousness in scientific research. For the point\nof view of honour, however, all these essentially valid and veritable\nrelations are neither sanctioned nor recognized in and through\nthemselves, but only so far as the individual reposes in them his\npersonal relation and makes them thereby matters affecting his honour.\nA man of honour consequently always thinks first of all about himself,\nand the question for him is not if anything is on principle right\nor not, but whether it is the right thing for him to do, whether it\nbecomes him then as a man of honour to make himself master in it and to\nstand by it. And consequently he may also perpetrate the worst actions\nand still be a man of honour. He creates at the same time objects at\nwill, imagines himself of a specific character, and appropriates to\nhimself, both as he sees himself and is seen by others, that which\nin the natural order of things has nothing to do with him at all.\nEven then it is not the natural fact, but the personal view of it\nwhich places difficulties and devolutions in the path, because it has\nbecome an affair of honour to maintain that character. So, to take\nan example, Donna Diana conceives it to be derogatory to her honour\nto confess in any way the love she feels, because she has pledged\nherself not to listen to love. In general we may say, then, that the\ncontent of love is at the mercy of accident, because its validity\ndepends purely on the personal attitude, and is not directed by that\nwhich is the essential mode of the inner life itself. For this reason\nwe may observe that in romantic representations on the one hand that\nwhich is on principle justifiable is expressed as the _law_ of honour,\nthe individual associating with the consciousness of right at the\nsame time the infinite self-conscious unit of his personality. What\nis then expressed by the statement that honour makes such and such a\ndemand, or forbids it, is this that the entire personal attitude of\nconsciousness implants itself within the content of such a demand or\nprohibition so that no trespass in any transaction can fail to attract\nits attention without a repair and restoration being effected; and\nwe may add the individual is unable to attend to any other content.\nConversely, however, honour may resolve itself into something wholly\nformal and contentless, in so far as it contains nothing but the shell\nof the Ego, which is formally infinite, or only accepts an entirely\nbad content as obligatory upon it. In this case, more particularly\nin dramatic representations, honour remains but a wholly frosty and\nunvitalized object: its aims express no longer an essential content\nbut simply an abstract form of consciousness. But it is only an\nessentially substantive content which possesses the contingency of law,\nand is capable of explication in its multifold environment, and can be\napprehended in its imperative sequence of consequences. This defect\nin profound content especially rises to the surface when casuistry of\nreflection includes within the embrace of honour matter which is purely\naccidental and insignificant which the individual comes in contact\nwith. There is never a lack of material, because this casuistical\ntendency analyses with great subtlety in its modes of distinction,\nand many aspects may be elicited and made the subject of honour which\nin themselves are quite unimportant Above all the Spaniards have\nelaborated this casuistry of reflection over matters of honour in their\ndramatic poetry, and made their particular heroes of honour deduce all\ntheir consequences in their speeches. In this way the fidelity of the\nmarried woman may form a subject of investigation into the minutest\ndetails, and the mere suspicion of another, nay, the possibility of\nsuch even when the husband is aware that the suspicion is false may\nbe an affair of honour. If this leads to collisions we can derive no\nreal satisfaction from the process, because we have nothing of material\nmoment to arrest us, and consequently instead of the resolution of an\nantagonism which is causally inevitable we can only extract from it a\npainfully contracted feeling. Also in French plays we frequently find\nthat it is an honour which is barren, that is entirely abstract, which\nis made the essential fulcrum of interest Still more extreme is this\nessentially frostlike and lifeless type of it apparent in the drama\n\"Alarcos\" of Herr Friedrich von Schlegel. The hero here murders his\nnoble and loving wife. And we ask why. Simply for honour's sake; and\nthis honour consists in this that he may marry the king's daughter, for\nwhom he entertains no affection, and thus become the king's son-in-law.\nSuch a pattern is of course contemptible and an ignoble conception\nwhich merely prides itself as something lofty and of infinite intension.\n\n(_b_) Inasmuch, then, as honour is not only a semblance in me myself,\nbut must also exist in the mind and recognition of _another_, which\nagain on its part makes a claim to a similar honourable recognition,\nhonour is the extreme embodiment of _vulnerability._ For it is purely\na matter of personal caprice how far I choose to extend the claim\nand to what material I care to relate it. The smallest offence may\nbe in this respect of significance; and inasmuch as man is placed\nrelatively to concrete reality in the most manifold relations with a\nthousand things, and is able to extend practically without limit the\nsphere of that which he conceives to affect him, and to which he\nis placed in the relation of honour it follows that when we come to\ndeal with the independence of mankind and the obstinate isolation of\ntheir units, aspects for which the principle of honour is in the main\nresponsible, there is no end to the strife and contention to which\nthey give rise. Moreover, in the case of insult also no less than in\nthat of honour generally, the important matter is not the content, in\nwhich I necessarily feel myself insulted; for that which is negated\nhas reference to the personality which has appropriated such a content\nas its own, and now conceives itself as this ideal centrum of infinity\nattacked.\n\n(_c_) For such reasons every insult to honour is regarded as\nessentially of an infinite significance. It can consequently only\nbe repaired by means which possess that character. No doubt we may\nhave many degrees of insult, and as many modes of satisfaction; what\nhowever at the stage we are now considering any man may take as an\ninsult, how far he will feel himself as insulted and claim satisfaction\ntherefore, such considerations depend once more wholly on the personal\ncaprice of the particular person, which is justified in pursuing its\nobject to the utmost point of scrupulosity and outraged feeling. In\nthis process of satisfaction, which is here claimed, it is essential\nthat the man who delivers the insult no less than he who receives it\nshould be recognized as a man of honour. For the latter requires the\nfree recognition of his honour from the former; but in order to have\nhonour in his eyes and through his action that man must appear to\nthe recipient of insult as a man of honour, in other words he must\nsubstantiate by virtue of his personality the infinite character of the\ninsult which he has laid upon the outraged man and despite his personal\nenmity that is thereby directed against him.\n\nIt is, then, a fundamental determinant in the general principle of\nhonour that no one through his actions can give to any one a right over\nhimself; and consequently all that he has done and may have initiated\nwill be regarded both previous to its commencement and after its\nconclusion as unalterably affiliated to infinity, and will be accepted\nand treated under such a qualitative relation.\n\nMoreover, since honour, in its conflicts and its satisfaction in this\nrespect, depends on personal independence, which is conscious of\nitself as subject to no limitation, but acts directly from its own\nresources, we find a fact recur to our attention, which we previously\nobserved fundamentally characterized the heroic figures of the Ideal,\nnamely the self-subsistence of individuality. In honour, however, we\nhave not merely the secure self-dependence and action from personal\nresources, but this self-subsistence is in this case united with _the\nidea of itself_; and it is just this preconception which constitutes\nthe real content of honour in the sense that it perceives what is its\nown in that which is presented exterior to it, and envisages itself\ntherein to the full extent of its personal life. Honour is consequently\na self-subsistence, which is a _self reflection_, and possesses in such\na reflection its exclusive essence, and moreover leaves it wholly to\naccident whether its content be that which is essentially moral and\nnecessary, or contingent and insignificant.\n\n\n2. LOVE\n\nThe second emotional source which plays a predominant part in the\nproductions of romantic art is _love._\n\n(_a_) We have found in honour that the individual conscious life,\nas it prefigures itself in its absolute _independence_, forms the\nfundamental determinant; in a similar way the highest attitude of\nlove is the _surrender_ of the personal life to some object of the\nopposed sex, a sacrifice of its independent consciousness and its\npersonal isolation, which for the first time in the consciousness of\nanother, is aware emotionally that it has thoroughly brought home to\nitself its own self-knowledge. In this respect we may contrast love\nand honour. Conversely, however, we are entitled to regard love as the\n_realization_ of that which was already inherent in honour, in so far\nas honour claims recognition[247] that it should be received in another\nas the infinite significance of personality. This recognition is only\ntrue and complete when it is not merely my personality in the abstract,\nor in a concrete and consequently restricted case, is respected by\nanother, but when I, in the' entire significance of my personal\nresources, with everything this either emphasizes or includes, as this\nparticular person in all my past, present, and future relations, both\npenetrate the conscious life of another, and, in fact, constitute the\nobject of his real volition and knowledge, his effort and his property.\nIn this respect it is this same inward infinitude of the individual\nwhich makes love of such importance to romantic art, an importance\nwhich is materially enhanced by the exalted character of the wealth\nwhich the notion of love itself carries.\n\nMore closely, then, love does not subsist, as may frequently happen\nin the case of honour, upon the subject-matter of the mind and the\ncasuistry of reflection, but originates in the emotions, and for the\nreason that here the distinctions of sex play an important part,\npossesses at the same time for its basis natural conditions as already\nrelated to spirit life. This basis is, however, only present in the\nsense that the individual comes into relation with such conditions by\nway of his soul-life, that essentially infinite aspect of himself.\n\nThis state of a man's losing his own consciousness in another, this\nappearance of disinterestedness and unselfishness, by virtue of which\na man first really finds himself and comes to himself--this oblivion\nof his own, so that the lover no longer exists, or is careful for\nhimself, but discovers the roots of that life in another, and yet\nonly comes into the full enjoyment of himself in that other is what\ngives us the infinite relation of love; and we must look for beauty\nmainly in so far as this feeling does not persist as mere impulse\nand emotion, but through the imagination makes its world conform to\nsuch a condition, exalts everything which otherwise belongs by virtue\nof its interest, circumstances, and objects to real existence and\nlife, into an adornment of this feeling, bears away all else into the\ncharmed circle, and only attaches a value to it in this relation.\nMore particularly it is in female characters that love appears in\nmost beautiful guise because this sacrifice, this surrender, is with\nthem as the culmination of everything else. It is these qualities, in\nfact, which concentrate and extend life in its spiritual breadth and\nreality to the wealth of this emotion, which alone discover within\nit a stay for existence, and if any misfortune sweeps across the\npath, vanish like a light which is extinguished by the first rude\nbreath[248]. In this personal and intimate sense of feeling love is\nnot presented in classical art, and only appears as a feature of quite\nsecondary importance for the representation, or is only conspicuous\nunder its aspect of physical enjoyment. In Homer, either we find it is\nnot emphasized at all, or love appears in its most respected type as\nwedded love in the sphere of the domestic state, exemplified in the\nfigure of Penelope, or as solicitude of wife and mother, exemplified\nin the case of Andromache, or in other ethical relations of a similar\ncharacter. The tie, on the other hand, which unites Paris to Helen is\nrecognized as immoral, and the cause of the horror and fatal course of\nthe Trojan war. The love, too, of Achilles for Briseis has little depth\nof sentiment or spiritual flavour, for Briseis is a slave entirely at\nhis disposition. In the odes of Sappho it is true that the language\nof love receives the dramatic emphasis of lyrical enthusiasm; yet it\nis rather the insinuating and devouring flame of the blood which is\nhere expressed than the profound emotion of the singer's heart and\nsoul. From another aspect we find in the short and charming odes of\nAnacreon a wider and more jovial sense of enjoyment, which sports with\ndelight on the immediate sense of enjoyment as over something to be\nsimply accepted as it falls without troubling itself with infinite\nheartaches, without this overmastering of the entire life or the pious\nsubmission of a burdened, yearning, and yielding soul; in this type\nthe point of infinite importance whether it is precisely this or that\ngirl which you possess is as absolutely disregarded as the monkish\nnotion that you should shun maidenhood altogether. The lofty tragedy\nof the ancients does not recognize the passion of love in its romantic\nsignificance. Pre-eminently in the case of both Aeschylus and Sophocles\nwe find that it makes no pretension to contribute to the main interest\nof the drama. For although Antigone is the accepted lover of Haemon,\nand Haemon claims her before his father, nay, goes to the length of\ncommitting suicide because he is unable to deliver her, yet it is the\nexternal aspects of the case rather than the power of his own personal\npassion, which, we may also note, is not that of a modern lover, which\nhe emphasizes before Creon. As a more essential type of pathos love\nis treated by Euripides in the \"Phaedra.\" But here, too, it rather\nmakes itself felt as a criminal aberration of the blood, as a passion\nof the senses, initiated by Aphrodite, who is desirous of slaying\nHippolytus, because he refuses to sacrifice to her. In the same way we\nhave, no doubt, in the Medicean Aphrodite a plastic figure of love,\nwhose exquisite pose and lovely elaboration of bodily form is quite\nconsummate; but any profound expression of soul-life such as romantic\nart demands is wholly absent. On the other hand, the immortality of\nPetrarca, although he himself treated his sonnets in the light of\nrecreation, and it was rather through his Latin poems and other works\nthat he appealed to posterity, is due to this very love of the fancy\nwhich, under an Italian sky, joined sisterly hands with religion in\nthe medium of a somewhat artificial outpouring of the heart. Dante's\nexaltation, too, originated in his love for Beatrice, which was\ntransfigured in his soul to the white fervour of religious ecstasy,\nwhile the courage and boldness of his genius created energetically\na religious outlook on the world, in which he dared, an attempt\nimpossible without such gifts, to constitute himself the judge of\nmankind, and to apportion to individuals hell, purgatory, or paradise.\nIn contrast to an exaltation of this kind love is placed before us by\nBoccaccio in those romances of his, in which he brings before our eyes\nthe morals and life of his country, partly in all its impetuosity of\npassion, partly, too, in the spirit of frivolity without any ethical\naim whatever. In the songs of the German Minnesingers we find a type\nof love, sensitive, tender, without much generosity of imagination,\nsportive, melancholy, and monotonous. Among the Spaniards it is copious\nin imaginative expression, chivalrous, somewhat casuistical in its\ndiscovery and defence of rights and duties, so far as they relate to\nprivate affairs of honour; and in this respect also possesses all the\nrichest splendour of enthusiasm. In contrast to this among Frenchmen\nof more modern times love is more an affair of gallantry with a\ndistinct bias toward vanity, an artificial state of feeling converted\nto the uses of poetry with a kind of sophistry of the senses often\nmarked with the finest wit, at one time expressing a kind of sensuous\nenjoyment which is devoid of passion, at another a passion that brings\nwith it no enjoyment, a sublimated condition of feeling and sensibility\nwhich feeds upon the maxims of reflection. But I must here break off\nthese general indications which our subject does not permit me now to\ncarry further.\n\n(_b_) More closely looked at the secular interest may be treated\nunder two general divisions. We have on the one side secularity as\nactually organized, such as family life, the tie of citizenship and\npolitics, law, justice, morality, and the rest; and in opposition to\nthis[249] independent and assured existence love springs up in noble\nand impetuous spirits; this world-religion of hearts, which at one\ntime we find joining hands with religion in every respect, while at\nanother it supersedes it, forgets it, and by constituting itself the\nsingle essential, or rather the unique and supreme condition of life,\nis not only prepared to renounce all else, and to fly for refuge to a\ndesert with the beloved, but proceeds in this extremity of its passion,\nwhich we can only exclude from the domain of beauty, to sacrifice all\nthe worth of humanity in a manner at once servile, degrading, and\ndespicable. An example of this we have in \"K\u00e4tchen von Heilbronn.\" On\naccount of this cataclysm of life's essential interests the objects\nof love cannot be realized without _collisions_ in the theatre of the\nworld. For despite of love the general conditions of life make their\ndemand and assert their claims and the despotism of love's passion is\nunable to maintain itself against them with impunity.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The first and most frequently exemplified type of collision we\nmay draw attention to is that between _honour_ and _love._ In other\nwords, honour possesses just as love possesses in its own right this\ninfinitude of claim, and may accept a content, which may confront love\nas a positive obstacle in its path. The obligations of honour may\nrequire the sacrifice of love. From a certain point of view it would\nbe, for example, dishonourable for a man of high rank to wed one of the\nlower classes. The distinction between class and class is a necessary\nfact of natural condition as ordinarily presented[250]. And so long\nas our secular life has not been emancipated through the infinite\nnotion of true freedom, whatever may be the class or profession from\nwhich that life in the particular individual and his free choice takes\nits rise, to that extent it will always be Nature, that is, the birth\ncondition, which to a greater or less degree will, on the one hand,\ndetermine the social position; and, on the other, these distinctions\nof status, as they thus originate, and quite independently of general\ngrounds of honour, in so far as social position is made an affair of\nhonour, will maintain themselves as of absolute and infinite stability.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Quite apart, however, from questions of honour we must add as\na further example of collision that the eternal and _substantive_\npowers themselves, the interests of the State, love of country, family\nobligations, and the rest, come into conflict with love and preclude\nits realization. Particularly in modern representations, in which the\nobjective conditions of life have been already elaborated in all their\navailable stringency, this is a favourite type of collision. Love is in\nsuch cases, as itself an important right of the personal soul, either\nset forth in opposition to other rights and duties, or despite of its\nown recognition of such it enters upon a conflict with them reliant\nupon itself and with the power of its private passion. The \"Maid of\nOrleans\"[251] is an example of a drama which rests upon a collision of\nthis kind.\n\n(_\u03b3_) And in the _third_ case we may find in a general way that\n_external_ condition and its impediments oppose obstacles in the path\nof love. Such are the ordinary course of events, the prose of ordinary\nexistence, misfortunes, passion, prejudice, follies, the selfishness\nof others, occurrences of every conceivable complexity and kind. Much\nwill here present itself that is hateful, terrible, and mean, for\nit is mainly the evil, ruthless, and savage aspects of other forms\nof human passion which work contrary to the tender spiritual beauty\nof love. More particularly in later times we frequently come across\nexternal collisions of this sort in dramas, narratives, and romances,\nworks whose main interest centres in a sympathy for the sufferings,\nexpectations, and ruined prospects of unhappy lovers and affect or\nsatisfy us by means of their bad or happy endings, or merely provide\nentertainment. This type of conflict, however, on the ground that it\nmerely depends upon accidental matters, is a subordinate one.\n\n(_c_) No doubt love, from whatever of these points of view you choose\nto regard it, possesses a lofty quality, in so far as it does not\nmerely remain an impulse of sex-attraction, but emphasizes the bounty\nof a really rich, beautiful, and noble soul, and is a living, active,\ncourageous, and disinterested bond of union between one person and\nanother. But romantic love is also not without its _limitation._\nThat which disappears from its content is the essentially realized\n_universality._[252] It is merely the _personal_ feeling of one\nparticular individual, which does not attest itself as fulfilled\nwith interest of eternal import and the actual content of organic\nhuman life, as made up of family, political aims, one's own country,\nobligations of profession, status, freedom, and religion, but merely\nwith the personal consideration which is intent upon receiving again\nsuch private feeling as reflected back from some one else. Such\na content of what is itself still but a formal mode of spiritual\nlife does not correspond in full truth to the totality, which the\nessentially complete personality[253] ought to be. In the family,\nmarriage, duty, and the State the personal feeling simply as such and\nthe unity which issues from it with some particular person and no other\nis not the main point of interest. In the love of romance, however,\nall centres in the fact that this man or woman loves that woman or man\nand _no one else._ Yet it is precisely this fact that it is only this\nor that person, which is solely based upon personal idiosyncracy, in\nother words, the contingency of caprice. There is no lover who does\nnot think his beloved, no maiden who does not fancy her lover, as the\nfairest and most supreme, to the exclusion of all others, although\nthey may appear very ordinary mortals in the eyes of other folk. But\nin just this fact that all the world or, let us say, a large number,\nact thus exclusively, and will not make an exception in favour of the\nunique Aphrodite herself, but rather possess an Aphrodite of their\nown, and very easily somewhat more than Aphrodite, we can only very\nobviously conclude that there are many who pass for the same fairy\nPrincess, as no doubt every one knows well enough, that there are a\nwhole bevy of pretty or good and excellent girls in the world, all\nof whom, or let us hope the majority, will secure their own lovers,\nadorers, and husbands, to whom they doubtless appear as gifted in like\nmanner with all the beauty and virtue of Christendom. To bestow in\nevery case our preference on one, and only one, is obviously a wholly\nprivate affair of the heart and of the separate individuality of each\nperson, and the incommensurable obstinacy in discovering as though by\na law of necessity one's life and supremest sense of such in just that\none individual is proof that it is a caprice no less infinite in its\nsignificance than it is inevitable. We have without question in this\nattitude the loftier freedom of the personal life and its absolute\npower of choice recognized, the power to be, not merely as we find\nin the \"Phaedra\" of Euripides, under the constraint of a pathos, a\ndivinity; but in regard to the absolutely individual volition, from\nwhich such a liberty proceeds, such a choice appears at the same time\nto be a mere idiosyncrasy, an inflexibility of that which is wholly\nself-exclusive.\n\nFor this reason the collisions of love, more particularly when it is\nset in hostile opposition to substantive interests, retain an aspect of\ncontingency and lack of authorization, because it is the personal life\nas such which confronts in opposition with a demand not independently\njustifiable that which for its own essential sake has a claim to\nrecognition. The personalities in the lofty tragedy of the ancients\nsuch as Agamemnon, Clytemnestra, Orestes, Oedipus, Antigone, and\nCreon have, it is true, among other things a personal object; but the\nsubstantive thing, the pathos, which as the content of their action is\nthe compelling force behind them, is of absolute authority, and for\nthis very reason, is also itself essentially of universal interest.\nThe destiny which affects them on account of their action does not\ntherefore move us on the ground that it is a fate of misfortune,\nbut because it is a misfortune which affects or redounds to their\nhonour. In other words the pathos, which will not rest until it is\nsatisfied, possesses an essentially necessary content. When the guilt\nof Clytemnestra, in this concrete case of it, receives no punishment,\nwhen the insult which Antigone receives as sister[254] is not removed,\nin both cases we have a substantial wrong. These sufferings of love,\nhowever, these shattered hopes, this being in love generally, these\ninfinite pains experienced by lovers, this measureless happiness and\nbliss which such imagine, are no such essential interest but rather\nsomething that merely affects themselves. All men, it is true, should\nbe sensitive to love and may claim satisfaction in this respect. But\nwhen a man fails to secure that object in some particular place, in\nprecisely this or that association, under just these circumstances\nand in respect to one unique maiden we can admit no absolute wrong.\nThere is nothing essentially inevitable in the fact that a man should\ncapriciously select any particular young woman, and that we should\ninterest ourselves consequently for that which is in the highest degree\naccidental, a caprice of his own conscious life, which carries with it\nno impersonal expansion or universal significance. We have here the\nsource of that tendency to cool which we cannot help feeling in the\nrepresentation of the passion of romantic love however that passion may\nbe emphasized.\n\n\n3. FIDELITY\n\nThe third type of soul-life which is of importance to the romantic\nconsciousness on the field of its activity in the world is _fidelity._\nBy fidelity in the sense we are now using it we do not mean either\nthe permanent adherence to the avowal of love once given, nor yet the\nstability of friendship in the beautiful image of the same such as we\nhave left us by the ancients in that of Achilles and Patroclus, or with\nyet more intimacy, that of Orestes and Pylades. Youth is pre-eminently\nboth the soil and the occasion from which friendship of this\nlatter type originates. Every man has to construct his path of life\nindependently, to work out and sustain a given mode of realization. The\ntime of youth, when individuals still live in an undefined atmosphere\nof external relations which they share, is the one in which they\nassociate closely, and are bound together so nearly in _one_ mode of\nthought, volition, and activity, that everything that any one of them\nundertakes becomes at the same time the undertaking of another. When\nmen attain maturity this is no longer the case. The circumstantial\nlife of the grown man pursues its independent course and will not\nadmit of so close an affiliation with that of another that we can\naffirm of it that one cannot accomplish it without the other. Men make\nacquaintances and then separate; their interests and business are at\none time disjoined, at another they coalesce; friendship, intimacy of\nmutual opinions, of principles, and the general trend of their life may\nremain; but this is not the friendship of youth, in which no individual\nunit either makes a decision or carries it into effect without\ninevitably making it a matter in which another is concerned. It is an\nessential principle at the very root of our life that in general every\nman must look after himself, must, in other words, prove by himself his\ncapacity to confront the reality which affects him.\n\n(_a_) Fidelity in friendship and love, then, subsists solely between\nequals. The fidelity which we have now to consider is relative to a\nsuperior, one more highly placed, a _master._ A fidelity of this type\nis to be found even among the ancients in that of servants to the\nfamily, the house of their lord. The most beautiful example of such a\nrelation is supplied us by the swine-herd of Odysseus, who sweats by\nnight and through tempest in order that he may look after his swine;\nwho is full of anxiety on his master's account, to whom he finally\ngives loyal assistance against the suitors. Shakespeare offers us a\npicture of fidelity no less moving, though it is here shown entirely\non the side of the feelings, in his \"King Lear.\"[255] Lear asks Kent,\n\"Dost thou know me, fellow?\" And Kent replies: \"No, sir; but you have\nthat in your countenance which I would fain call master.\" This borders\nas close as possible on that which we would make clear as romantic\nfidelity. Fidelity at this stage is not the loyalty of slaves and\nchurls, however true and pathetic such unquestionably may be, which is\nnone the less devoid of the free independence of individuality and its\nunrestricted aims and actions, and is consequently of subordinate rank.\nWhat we, in short, have before us is the liege-service of chivalry, in\nwhich each vassal preserves intact his own free self-dependence as an\nessential element in the attitude of subordination to one of higher\nrank, whether lord, king, or emperor. This type of fidelity, however,\nis a principle of supreme importance in chivalry for the reason that it\nforms the fundamental bond of union in a common society and its social\nco-ordination at least in the original form of its appearance.\n\n(_b_) The object which thus receives a fuller content and is made\napparent in this new type of association between individuals is not,\nhowever, by any means patriotism regarding that as an objective and\nuniversal interest, but a bond merely with one person, the lord, and\nfor this reason conditioned by private honour, personal advantage\nand opinion. In its fullest brilliancy we find fidelity of this kind\nin a surrounding world that is unregulated and uncouth, beyond the\ncontrol of right and law. Within a lawless reality of this kind the\nmost powerful and commanding spirits stand out as fixed points of\nattraction, as leaders and nobles, and the rest rally round them of\ntheir own free will. Such a condition is later on elaborated into a\nlegalized co-ordination of fealty, in which every vassal has his own\nclaim to rights and privilege. The fundamental principle, however, upon\nwhich the entire system reposes is in its primary origins free choice,\nno less in relation to the dependent vassal than to the conditions\nunder which he remains faithful to his vassalage. For this reason the\nfidelity of chivalry is quite prepared to maintain property, right, and\npersonal independence and honour, and is on this account not simply\nrecognized as an _obligation_ which may be enforced to the entire\ndisregard of the private inclinations of the vassal however they may\narise. Quite the contrary. Every subordinate unit only continues there\nand helps to establish the general social order so long as the same\nfalls in with his own wishes, inclinations, and opinions.\n\n(_c_) On this account fidelity and obedience to the feudal lord can\nvery readily clash with private feelings, an exasperated sense of\nhonour, sensitiveness to insult, love, and many other chance incidents\nof the personal or external life. It is consequently of a highly\nprecarious character. A knight, for example, is loyal to his lord,\nbut a friend of his happens to quarrel with him. He has now to choose\nbetween the two objects of his fidelity, and, chief of all, he has to\nconsider himself, the claims of his personal honour and advantage.\nThe most beautiful example of such a conflict we have in the \"Cid.\"\nHe remains as true to himself as he is to his king. If the king acts\nwisely he assists him with his arm's strength; if his feudal lord acts\nwrongly or the Cid feels touched on the point of honour this powerful\nsupport is withdrawn. The paladins of Charles the Great exhibit\nmuch the same attitude. It is a tie of chieftainship and obedience\nnot unlike that which we have already observed between Zeus and the\nother gods. The superior lord commands, blusters, and scolds, but the\nindependent and powerful individualities resist him precisely when and\nas they please. We find the most consistent and charming picture of the\nconditional and easy terms under which this bond is maintained in the\n\"Reinecke Fuchs.\" Just as the magnates in this kingdom are most really\ntrue to their own aims and independence, we find that the German barons\nand knights in the Middle Ages were not at home when called upon to\nact for the sake of the general weal and their emperor; and it really\nlooks as though our chief praise of the Middle Ages must consist in\nthis that no man is in such a period justified in his own eyes or a man\nof honour, except in so far as he runs after his own inclinations, in\nother words, does precisely that which he is not suffered to do in a\nState which is organized on a rational basis.\n\nIn all these three stages of honour, love, and fidelity, we shall find\nthe soil on which the self-subsistency of personality, the soul, is\nsupported, an independence which, however, constantly unfolds in a\nwider and more affluent content, remaining in the same self-reconciled.\nHere stretches before us in romantic art the fairest strip of country\nwhich we can find anywhere outside the enclosure of religion in its\nstrict sense, Its objects are concerned with that which is simply\nhuman, a relation with which we can at least from one aspect of it,\nnamely, that of personal freedom, absolutely sympathize, and we do\nnot find here, as we do now and again in the religious field, both\na material and modes of representation which clash with our modern\nnotions. But at the same time we must add that our present subject\nmatter may very frequently be brought into direct relation to religion\nso that religious interests are interwoven with those of the world\nof chivalry; as, for example, was the case in the adventures of the\nknights of the round table in their quest of the Holy Grail. In this\ninterfusion we find not only much that is mystical and fantastical,\nbut also much that is allegorical added to the poetry of chivalry. And\nconversely this secular sphere of the interests of love, honour, and\nfidelity may also be totally unconnected with the deepening of their\ncontent with religious aims and opinions, and only bring to view the\nearliest movement of soul-life in the secular aspect of its spiritual\nintensity. That which, however, drops away from the present levels is\nthe repletion of this inner life with the concrete content of human\nconditions, characters, passions, and realized existence generally. In\ncontrast to this variety the essentially infinite soul still remains\nabstract and formal, and has therefore in front of it the task, to\naccept as part of its own this further material with what it held\nbefore, and to exhibit the same in the forms congenial to artistic\ncomposition.\n\n[Footnote 241: He has not in this exclusive sense of religiosity\nidentified himself with the spirit of the Christian community. _Der\nAnderen_ refers to _Gemeinschaft._ Such appears to me the sense.]\n\n[Footnote 242: _Zur Wirklichkeit entfaltetes Leben._]\n\n[Footnote 243: Put more simply we may say in popular terminology that\nit is filled up or amplified by virtue of the sense of individual\npersonality. This Hegel himself further elucidates below. Falstaff\nundoubtedly possessed a strong personality, but in his famous soliloquy\non honour he deliberately emptied himself of any sense of it by\nrefusing to view himself under the self-relation, that is self-respect.]\n\n[Footnote 244: I fail to appreciate this distinction, except in a very\nqualified form. Even in the Middle Ages when the feudal relation was in\nfull force, the relation between the master and the servant was surely\none of the institutions of the State, though no doubt the rights of the\ndependent were not always very readily enforced. Even in the case of\nslavery in the Southern States of America the relation between master\nand slave carried with it quite definite ethical obligations--there was\nin general at least quite a distinct social if not actually political\nstatus.]\n\n[Footnote 245: I suppose Hegel means by _ein Punkt_ a centre or point\nof life. The expression is rather unusual.]\n\n[Footnote 246: _Absoluten Geltung_, that is its absolute validity in\nits ideal character.]\n\n[Footnote 247: The punctuation in text is defective.]\n\n[Footnote 248: So runs the text. It comes from such a writer with a\nshock. Why such qualities should vanish (_schwinden_) in the presence\nof unhappiness it is not easy to see. It would rather appear that such\nwas the condition to evoke them. What is meant is, I suppose, that the\nfailure of _reciprocity_, especially in the love of women, often brings\ncomplete collapse. We may illustrate it in several of Meredith's novels\nsuch as \"Diana\" and \"Sandra Belloni.\"]\n\n[Footnote 249: The two sides would appear to be the secularity of the\nsocial organism and \"free\" love.]\n\n[Footnote 250: This I think is the meaning. Until the full notion of\nliberty is apprehended the divisions of class will have the appearance\nof natural necessity.]\n\n[Footnote 251: Schiller's drama of that name.]\n\n[Footnote 252: _Die an und f\u00fcr sich seyende Allgemeinheit._ The\nuniversal notion as explicitly made actual in life.]\n\n[Footnote 253: _Ein in sich konkretes Individuum._ The whole of this\nanalysis appears to me a rather abstract and professorial consideration\nof romantic attachment, separating love from its reality of association\nand relation in actual life. In so far as it is true it is purely\nabstract truth, and must be regarded as such. In actual life it is no\nmore true that even in the average case misfortune blights the blossom\nthan it is true that the love of the individual concentrates itself\nsolely on the mere attachment between two persons. It is bound up with\nthe idea of family and continuation of the race, and so indirectly with\nthe State.]\n\n[Footnote 254: As sister of her violated brother Polyneices.]\n\n[Footnote 255: Act I, sc. 4.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE FORMAL SELF-SUBSISTENCY OF INDIVIDUAL PARTICULARITIES\n\nIf we take a glance back on the territory we have passed through, we\nsee in the first instance that the object of our investigation was\nthe life of the soul[256] in its most absolute capacity, in other\nwords, consciousness in its mediation with God, the universal process\nof the self-reconciling spirit. The abstraction of this point of view\nconsisted in this that the soul by an effort of abnegation withdrew\nitself from all that was secular, purely natural and human--even\nwhen the same had ethical features, and for this reason possessed a\nclaim upon us--into its own distinctive domain in order to satisfy\nits yearning for the pure heaven of spirit. _Secondly_, we found\nourselves able, it is true, to bring into view the human consciousness\nwithout this factor of abstract negation which was included in that\nmediation, in other words, positively in its independence and as\nrelated to others[257], but the content of this secular infinitude as\nsuch was none the less only the personal self-subsistency of honour,\nthe intensiveness[258] of love and the vassalage of fidelity, a\ncontent which, no doubt, may appear before us in many relations, in a\nmany-folded variety and many gradations of feeling and passion, subject\nto the most extensive changes of external condition, yet for all that\nonly propounds just this personal independence and inwardness within\nsuch examples. The _third_ aspect, then, which we have now left us to\nexamine is the mode and manner in which that further material of human\nexistence, both on the side of its inward and its external life, that\nis to say, Nature and its apprehension and significance for soul-life,\nis able to enter into the romantic type of art. We have here to deal\nwith the world of particular objects, determinate existence generally,\nregarded in its unfettered independence, and which, in so far as it\ndoes not appear transparent to religion and spiritual synthesis,\nbringing it into unity with the Absolute, asserts itself on its own\nfoothold and declares its self-subsistence in its own kingdom.\n\nIn this third province of the romantic type of art consequently the\npurely religious material and chivalry with those lofty views and aims\nthat we found it brings to birth from its spiritual womb[259], but\nwhich were not directly concordant with anything visible in the reality\nof the existing world, have vanished. The new object of satisfaction\nis a thirst for this actual presence itself, a delight in the facts of\nexistence, a contentment of the soul with the dwelling that confronts\nit, with the finitude of our humanity, and what is finite, particular,\nand the true counterfeit of such generally. Man is intent to recreate\nfor his own world the world as he actually finds it, although such\nmay imply a sacrifice of the Beauty and ideality of the content and\nmanifestation will reflect it as it stands before him endowed with\nlife in his art, will have that present life before his eyes as the\nwork of his own mind. The religion of Christianity as we have already\nseen has not sprung up from the soil of the imagination as was the\ncase with the divinities of the East and Greece, whether we consider\nthem relatively to form or content. It is the imagination which\nfashions the vital significance out of its own resources in order to\npromote the unity between the reality of soul life with the perfected\nembodiment of the same. In classical art this complete coalescence is\nactually attained. In the Christian religion, on the other hand, the\nsecular aspect in its exclusive character is from the first accepted\nfor just that which it really is as an essential factor of the Ideal;\nand the soul of man finds satisfaction in the ordinary and contingent\npresence of the external world without the necessary interposition of\nbeauty. But man is nevertheless in the first instance reconciled to\nGod only by implication, and as a possible result. All men are called\nto the blessed condition, but few are chosen; and the soul for which\nboth the kingdom of heaven and that of this world still remain as a\n\"beyond\" is constrained to renounce both that which is spiritual in the\nexternal world and its own presence therein. The point of departure is\nfrom a distance infinitely remote from that world; and to make this\nreality, which in the first instance is simply surrendered, a positive\nconstituent of that which is man's own, in other words to bring about\nthis rediscovery of himself and his volition in his own present life,\nfrom which all takes its rise, this it is which supplies us first with\na terminating point in the elaboration of romantic art, and is the\nfinal outlook to which the spiritual penetration of man is carried and\non which it is concentrated.\n\nIn so far as the form of this new content is concerned we have already\nobserved that romantic art from its first initiation was infected\nwith the contradiction that the essentially infinite mode of the\nself-conscious life is, in its independence, incapable of being united\nwith the external material, and is bound to remain in such separation.\nThis independent opposition of both aspects and the withdrawal of the\ninwardness of spirit into its own domain is that which constitutes the\ncontent of romance. These two aspects are continually separated anew\nby self-rehabilitation[260], until at length they fall entirely apart,\nand thereby demonstrate that we must search for some _other field_ than\n_Art_ to secure their absolute union. And by this falling apart we find\nthat these aspects in their relation to art are _formal_; in other\nwords they fail to appear as a totality in that complete type of unity\nwhich was secured to them by the Classic Ideal. Classical art is placed\nin a region of stable figures, that is in the midst of a mythology\nand its irresoluble types perfected by art. The resolution of the\nclassical form is consequently brought about--as we found in discussing\nits transition to the romantic form--leaving out of our present\nconsideration the generally more restricted territory of the comic and\nsatyric modes--by an over-elaboration in the direction of all that\npleases the senses or an imitation which loses itself in the deadly\nfrost of a pedantic learning, till it at length entirely degenerates\ninto a negligent and inferior technique. The objects of art remain,\nhowever, the same throughout the process, and merely play truant to\nthe earlier intelligent mode of production with a presentation that is\nincreasingly more spiritless and a purely traditional and mechanical\ntechnique. The progress and conclusion of romantic art on the contrary\nis the resolution of the material of art within its own boundaries[261]\naltogether, a material which falls apart into its elements, an\nincrease of freedom in the several parts, along with which process and\nin contrast to the previous case, the individual craftsmanship and\nartistic mode of presentment is enhanced; and in proportion as the\nsubstantive content tends to break up to that extent attains a fuller\nperfection.\n\nWe may now attempt a more specific subdivision of this the final\nchapter of this part of our subject in the following terms.\n\nIn the first place we have before us _the self-subsistency of\ncharacter_, which is, however, a particular one, that is, a definite\nindividual self-absorbed in its world, its specific qualities and aims.\n\nIn opposition to this formal particularity of character we have the\nexternal conformation of situations, events, and actions. For the\nreason, moreover, that the inward spirituality of romance stands\ngenerally in an indifferent relation to that which is external the\nactual phenomenon[262] appears in the present case independently free,\nthat is as neither permeated by the spiritual content of human aims and\nactions nor clothed in modes adequate to retain them. By reason of its\nunrelated and loose mode of manifestation it therefore enforces the\ncontingency of natural processes[263], circumstances, the sequence of\nevents, and manner of its realization as _the unexpected._[264]\n\nIn the _third_ place, and finally, the severation of the two factors\nasserts itself, the complete identity of which supplies us with\nthe real notion of art. This is consequently the dismemberment and\ndissolution of art itself. On the one hand we find that art passes to\na representation of wholly commonplace reality, to the reflection of\nobjects precisely as they appear in their contingent isolation and its\nequally singular characteristics. Its interest is now wholly absorbed\nin reproducing this objective existence by means of the technical\nability of the artist. On the other hand we have, in what is a mode\nof conception and representation entirely dependent on the accidental\nidiosyncracy of the artist himself, that is in humour, a complete\nreversal of the pictorial style above mentioned. For in _humour_ we\nmeet with the perversion and overthrow of all that is objectively solid\nin reality; it works through the wit and play of wholly personal points\nof view, and if carried to an extreme amounts to the triumph of the\ncreative power of the artist's soul over every content and every form.\n\n\n1. THE SELF-SUBSISTENCY OR INDEPENDENCE OF INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER\n\nThe fundamental determinant of our present subject-matter is once again\nthat infinitude implied in the very nature of the human consciousness\nwhich was our point of departure in the romantic type of art. The new\naccretions we have now, however, to add to our conception of this mode\nof self-subsistent infinity consist partly in the _particularity_\nof content, which constitutes the world of the individual mind, as\nto a further aspect of it in the immediate coalescence of the ego\nwith this its particularity, its wishes and objects, and thirdly,\nin the living individuality, in which the substantive character is\nself-determined. We are not, therefore, entitled to understand under\nthe expression \"character\" as now employed that which the Italians\nrepresented in their masks. The Italian masks are also no doubt\ndefinite characters, but this definition is only presented by them\nin its abstraction and generality, without a personal individuality.\nThe characters, on the other hand, of the type under discussion are\neach of them a character unique in itself, an independent whole, an\nindividual person[265]. If we have, therefore, occasion here to refer\nto the formalism and abstraction of character, such an expression is\nentirely relative to the fact that the fundamental content, the world\nof such a character appears, on the one hand, as restricted and to that\nextent abstract, and, on the other, as qualified by accidental causes.\nWhat the individual is is not carried or sustained by virtue of what\nis substantive or essentially self-accredited[266] in its content,\nbut through the naked personality asserted by the character, which\nconsequently reposes formally on its own individual self-subsistency\nrather than on its content and its independently secured pathos.\n\nWithin the limits of this formalism we may now observe _two_ main lines\nof distinction.\n\nOn the one hand we have the stability of character in the energy of its\n_executive_ power, which restricts its line of action to specific aims,\nand entrusts the concentrated force of individuality thus restricted to\nthe realization of such objects. On the other hand we have character\nunder the aspect of a totality that is _personal_, which, however,\npersists not wholly articulated throughout the content of that inward\nlife and in the unsounded[267] depths of the soul, and is unable to\nunravel itself wholly, or express itself with absolute clarity.\n\n(_a_) What we have therefore before us, in the first instance, is the\nparticular character which wills to be that its immediate presence\nproposes, Just as animals differ from each other and discover\nthemselves as independent creatures in this difference, so, too, here\nwe have different characters whose range and idiosyncracy remains\nsubject to the element of contingency[268], and is not to be accurately\ndetermined by the mere notion.\n\n(_\u03b1_) An individuality of this kind built up entirely on itself\nconsequently has no ready thought-out opinions and objects, which\nit has associated with any universal principle of pathos: all that\nit-possesses, does, and accomplishes it creates right away with no\nfurther reflection out of its own specific nature; which is just\nwhat it happens to be, and has no wish to be rooted in anything more\nexalted, to be resolved in that and to find its justification in\nsomething substantive. Rather it reposes unyielding and unmalleable\non itself, and in this stability either goes on its way or goes to\nground. A self-subsistency of character of this kind is only able to\nappear, where the secular or natural man[269], in other words, humanity\nin its particularity has secured its fullest claim. Pre-eminently the\ncharacters of Shakespeare are of this type. It is just this iron[270]\nsteadfastness and exclusiveness which constitutes the aspect of them\nwhich most excites our wonder. We have no word here of religion for\nreligion's sake, or action as the embodiment of human reconciliation,\nin the unqualified religious sense, or of morality pure and simple.\nOn the contrary we are presented with individuals, conceived as\ndependent solely on themselves, possessed with aims that are their\nown exclusively, exclusively deducible from their individuality, and\nwhich they carry through as best satisfies them with the unmitigated\nconsequences of passion, and with no incidental reflection on the\nprinciples involved. In particular the tragedies, such as \"Macbeth,\"\n\"Othello,\" \"Richard III\" and others contain one character of this type\nfor their main interest surrounded by others less pre-eminent for such\nelemental energy. Macbeth is forced by his character, for example, into\nthe fetters of his ambitious passion. At first he hesitates, then he\nstretches his hand to seize the crown; he commits a murder in order\nto secure it, and in order to maintain it storms on through the tale\nof horror. This regardless tenacity, this identity of the man with\nhimself, and the object which his own personality brings to birth is\nthe source to him of an abiding interest. Nothing makes him budge,\nneither the respect for the sacredness of kingship, nor the madness of\nhis wife, nor the rout of his vassals, nor destruction as it rushes\nupon him, neither divine nor human claims--he withdraws from them\nall into himself and persists. Lady Macbeth is a character of the\nsame mould, and it is merely the chatter of our latter-day tasteless\ncriticism which can find in her the least flavour of affection. At\nher very first entrance, on reading Macbeth's letter reporting his\nmeeting with the witches and their prophecy in the words[271]: \"Hail to\nthee, thane of Cawdor! Hail to thee king that shall be!\" she exclaims,\n\"Glamis thou art and Cawdor; and shall be what thou art promised. Yet\ndo I fear thy nature; it is too full o' the milk of human kindness, to\ncatch the nearest way.\" She shows no affectionate trait, no joy over\nthe happiness of her husband, no moral emotion, no sympathy, no pity\nof a noble soul; she simply fears lest the character of her husband\nwill stand in the path of his ambition. She regards him simply as a\nmeans. With her there is no recoil, no uncertainty, no consideration,\nno retreating, as we find is at first the case with Macbeth, no\nrepentance, but the pure abstraction and rigour of character, which\nperpetrates that which falls in with it, until it finally breaks.\nThis collapse which comes in a tempest on Macbeth from the outside as\nhe executes his object, becomes madness of the mind in Lady Macbeth.\nOf the same type is Richard III, Othello, the old Margaret and many\nanother also. We have its opposite in the wretched coherence[272] of\nmodern characters, such as those of Kotzebue, which are outwardly noble\nin the highest degree, great and excellent, yet in their soul-force\nare all rags and tatters. Later writers have done no better in other\nrelations, despite their supreme contempt for Kotzebue. Heinrich von\nKleish is an example with his K\u00e4tchen and Prince von Homburg[273],\ncharacters in which, in contrast to the alert condition of real causal\neffect, magnetism, somnambulism, and sleep-walking are depicted as\nthat which is of highest and most effective moment. This Prince von\nHomburg is a most pitiable exhibition of a general; he is distracted\nwhen he makes his military dispositions, writes out his orders in a\nway none can decipher them, is engaged in the night previous to the\nbattle with morbid forebodings, and acts on the day of battle like a\nfool. And despite such duality, raggedness, and lack of harmony in\ntheir characters these writers imagine that they tread in the footsteps\nof Shakespeare. Wide indeed is the distance which separates them, for\nthe characters of Shakespeare are essentially consequent in what they\ndo; they remain staunch to their master passion; in what they are and\nin what confronts them, nothing makes them veer round but what is in\nstrict accord with their rigidly determinate character.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The more particular, then, the character is, which relies purely\non itself, and consequently readily approaches evil, to that extent\nit is forced in the concrete world of reality to maintain itself, not\nmerely against the obstacles which lie in its path and prevent the\nrealization of life's aims, but so much more by this very realization\nsuch is driven headlong to its downfall. In other words, on account\nof the fact that it achieves its object, the fate that has its origin\nin the specific nature of its character itself, deals it a blow in a\nmode of destruction it has itself prepared. The development of this\nfatality is, however, not merely a development from the _action_ of the\nparticular personality, but quite as much a growth of the soul[274],\na development of the _character_ itself in its headlong movement,\nits running wild, its shattering in pieces or exhaustion. Among the\nGreeks, for whom pathos, the substantive content of action, rather\nthan the personal character, is the important feature, a destiny\naffects the character that is thus sharply defined to a less degree for\nthis reason, that it is not further evolved within the sphere of its\nactivities, but remains at their conclusion what it was at the start.\nIn the compass of our present subject-matter, however, by the carrying\nthrough of the action itself, the inner life of the personality is\nevolved quite as much as the progress of the action; the advance is\nnot simply on the outside. The action of Macbeth appears at the same\ntime a descent of the soul into savagery, accompanied by a result\nwhich, when all irresolution is thrown to the winds, and the dice is\ncast, leaves nothing further able to restrain it. His wife is from the\nvery first decided: development is shown here merely as the anxiety\nof the soul, which is carried to the point of physical and spiritual\nruin, the madness, in short, which strikes her down. And this is the\nkind of process which we can follow in the majority of Shakespeare's\ncharacters, whether important or unimportant. The characters of ancient\ndrama assert themselves, no doubt, also on fixed lines, and we find\nthem even face to face with opposed forces, relief from which is no\nlonger possible except through the advent of a _deus ex machina._ Yet\nthis stability, as in the case of Philoctetes, is united to a content,\nand, on the whole, penetrated with a pathos which may be vindicated on\nethical grounds.\n\n(_\u03b3_) In the sphere of presentation we are now considering, owing to\nthe contingent nature of all that the characters which belong to it\nseize upon as their aim and the independence of their individuality,\nno _objective reconciliation_ is possible. The environment of all that\nthey are, and what opposes their progress, is in part without defined\nlines, but also in part we see that there is neither a \"Whence\" nor a\n\"Whither\" unriddled for themselves. Here we have once more presented\nto us that Fate which is the most abstract form of Necessity. The only\nreconciliation of the individual issues from the infinite mode of his\nsoul-life, his own steadfastness, in which he stands supreme over his\npassion and his destiny. \"Thus it came to pass,\"[275] whatever falls\nin his way, whether it be due to a controlling destiny, necessity or\naccident, there is his \"Wherefore\"; he accepts it at once without\nfurther reflection. It is fact, and man adjusts himself thereto, and\ntries to make himself as stone toward its authority.\n\n(_b_) In absolute contrast to the above, however, there is a further\nor _second_ mode in which the formal aspect of character may find its\nseat within the _innermost_ of soul-life, and in which the individual\nmay remain fixed without being able to extend its range or execute its\neffects.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Such are those spiritual natures of intrinsic substance, who,\nwhile self-absorbed in a complex whole, are only able in the simplicity\nof their compactness[276] to perfect that profound activity within the\nshrine of the soul without further development or explication in the\nworld around them. The formalism which we have hitherto been examining\nwas relative to the defined character of the content, the entire\nself-concentration[277] of the individual upon one object, which it\nmakes to appear in all its unrelieved severity, a concentration which\nexpressed itself, was carried out, and in which, just as circumstances\nfell out, either collapsed or held on to the end. This further mode\nof formalism is emphasized in a converse way by its undisclosed and\nformless character, and by its defect of expression and expository\npower. A soul of this type is like some precious jewel, which is only\nvisible at certain points, a manifestation which is that of a lightning\nflash.\n\n(_\u03b2_) And the reason that such state of self-seclusion should still be\nof worth and interest to us is due to the fact that it presupposes a\nsecret wealth of the soul, which, however, only permits its infinite\ndepth and fulness, and precisely, by means of this silence, to show\nitself in a few and so to speak half-muted ways of expression. Such\nsimple natures, unconscious of what they possess, and without speech,\nmay exercise an extraordinary fascination. But that this may be so\ntheir silence must be like the unruffled stillness of the sea upon\nits surface, over its unsounded depths, not the silence of all that\nis shallow, hollow, and stupid. It is quite possible sometimes for\nthe dullest fellow to succeed by means of an external demeanour that\nmanages very little to expose itself, and merely presents now and\nagain something that is but half intelligible, to awake in others\nthe opinion that it is the veil of a profound wisdom and spiritual\ndepth, so that people wonder what in the world lies hidden in such a\nheart and soul, where we find in the end there is just nothing. The\ninfinite content and profundity of _silent_ souls of the genuine type\nis made clear to us--and to declare it makes the greatest demand on\nthe intuitive powers and executive ability of the artist--by means of\nisolated, unrelated, na\u00efve, and involuntary expressions of soul-life,\nwhich quite unintentionally make it plain to all who can grasp their\nsignificance that such a soul has seized upon the substantial import\nof all that confronts it with the richest quality of spiritual\ninsight, that its reflective capacity, however, is not carried further\nby positive expansion into the general environment of particular\ninterests, motives, and finite aims, but rather preserves its original\npurity that the fact it refuses to have its powers dissipated by the\ncommonplace excitements of the heart and the serious quests and modes\nof sympathy which are thus inevitable, may remain unknown to the world.\n\n(_\u03b3_) A time must, however, arrive for a soul of this type in which\nit becomes uniquely affected at one definite point of attachment in\nthat inward worlds it concentrates the whole of its undivided powers\nin one supreme form of emotion that dominates its life-current; it\nadheres to this with a force that refuses to be diverted, and secures\nhappiness therein, or goes to ground from lack of support. To retain\na hold on life a man requires a constantly expanding breadth of\nethical sustenance, which alone supplies an objective stability. To\nthis type of character belong some of the most fascinating figures in\nromantic art, whose full perfection of beauty we shall find among the\ncreations of Shakespeare. As an illustration we may take the Juliet\nin his \"Romeo and Juliet.\" It is possible at this moment to see a\nreproduction of this play in this city[278]. It is well worth going\nto. The picture we have given us there of this character is a moving,\nlifelike, passionate, talented, highly finished and noble one. But for\nall that it is possible to entertain a somewhat different conception\nof the part. In other words, we may figure for ourselves a maiden in\nthe first instance simple as a child, of only fourteen or fifteen years\nof age, who, it is quite clear, has as yet no self-knowledge or world\nwisdom, no emotional activity, no strong inclination or wishes of the\nheart, but has rather glanced into the motley show of the world as into\nsome _laterna magica_ without learning anything from it, or reflecting\nupon what is seen there. All in a twinkling we behold the development\nof the entire strength of this soul, of its artfulness[279], its\ncircumspection, its force; it is prepared to sacrifice everything and\nto submit itself to the severest ordeals, so that in its entirety it\nnow suddenly appears to be the first breaking forth of the full rose\nin all its petals and folds, an infinite outburst of the innermost\npurity which gushes from the spring source of the soul, in which it\nhad held itself back previously as yet undiscerned, unmoulded and\nundeveloped; which moreover, as the now existing creation of _one_\nawakened interest, betrays itself unpremeditated in the fulness and\nstrength of its beauty from the previous seclusion of spirit. It is\na brand which one spark has kindled, a bud which at the first bare\ntouch of love breaks unawares before us in full bloom. And yet the\nfaster it unfolds the more rapidly it also sinks, and its petals\nfall from it. An impetuous progress is still more conspicuous in the\ncase of Miranda. Brought up in seclusion we have her portrayed for\nus by Shakespeare at the critical moment when she first makes the\nacquaintance of manhood[280]. He depicts her in a few scenes, but in\nthose we get a picture that is complete and unforgettable. We may\nalso include Schiller's Thecla under the same type, despite the fact\nthat it is rather the creation of a reflective kind of poetry[281].\nThough placed in the midst of a life of such amplitude and richness she\nremains unaffected by it; she remains within it without vanity, without\nreflection, purely absorbed by the one interest which alone dominates\nher soul. And as a general rule it is chiefly the beautiful and noble\nnatures of women, in which the world and their own heart-life blossoms\nfor the first time in love, so that it is as though their spiritual\nbirth here takes its rise.\n\nUnder the same type of spiritual intensity, which is unable fully to\nunfold itself, we may for the most part classify those folksongs, more\nparticularly our German ones, which, in the copious compactness of the\nsoul-life therein reflected, and however much such is displayed to\nus as carried away by any one absorbing interest, are yet unable to\nexpress the same except in broken flashes, and thereby fully reveal\njust this very depth. It is a mode of artistic presentment, which in\nits reserve is apt to fall back on the effects of symbolism. What it\noffers us is not so much the open, transparent display of the entire\ninward life as it is purely a _sign_ and indication of that life.\nBut we do not get, however, from it a symbol, the significance of\nwhich, as was the case previously, remains a general abstraction, but\nan expression the inward content of which is nothing more nor less\nthan this personal, living, and actual soul. In times like our own,\ndominated by a critical reflectiveness, which lies so far removed from\na self-absorbed _na\u00efvet\u00e9_ of this kind, such presentations are of the\ngreatest difficulty, and if successful, are a sure proof of an original\ncreative genius. We have already seen that Goethe, more particularly in\nhis lyrics, has shown himself a master in this respect, namely, that he\ncan depict and unfold to us in a symbolical way, in other words with a\nfew simple, apparently external and insignificant traits, the entire\ntruth and infinite wealth of a soul. His poem, \"The King of Thule,\" one\nof his most lovely bits of poetical work, is of this class. The king\nhere makes us aware of his love by just one thing only, namely, the\ndrinking cup which the old man preserved as a gift of his beloved. The\nold carouser stands up there on the point of death in his lofty palace\nhall; his knights, his kingdom, his possessions are around him; and\nhe bequeaths them all to his heir, but the goblet he flings into the\nwaves; no one shall have that.\n\n/$\n     Er sah ihn st\u00fcrzen, trinken,\n     Und sinken tief in's Meer,\n     Die Augen th\u00e4ten ihm sinken,\n     Trank nie ein Tropfen mehr[282].\n$/\n\nA soul, however profound and still of this kind, which retains its\nenergy of spirit pent up like the spark in the flint, unopened to\nform, which does not elaborate its existence and reflection beyond its\nown boundaries, has also failed to free itself by such expansion. It\nremains exposed to the remorseless contradiction that, if the false\nnote of unhappiness ring through its life, it possesses no remedial\naptitude, no bridge as a way of passage between the heart and reality;\nit is equally unable to ward off external conditions from itself, and\nby so doing to preserve an independent ground of vantage in its own\nself-reliance. When the collision comes therefore it is helpless; it\nacts hastily and without circumspection, or bows passively to the\nmovement of events. So, for example, we have in Hamlet a beautiful\nand noble soul; one not so much spiritually weak, but one that\nwanders astray without a strong grasp of life's realities, moving in\nan atmosphere of dejection, a sombre and half articulate melancholy.\nGifted with a finely intuitive sense he feels that all is not well with\nhim, that things are not as they should be though he has no external\nsign, no single ground for suspicion; nevertheless he surmises the\natrocious deed that has been perpetrated. The ghost of his father\ngives yet closer embodiment to his feelings. He is at once ready in\nspirit to revenge, his sense of duty is always before him reflecting\nthe innermost craving of his heart, but he is not carried away with\nthe flood, as Macbeth; he cannot either kill, rage, or strike with the\ndirectness of a Laertes; he persists in the inactivity of a beautiful,\nintrospective soul, which can neither realize its aims nor make itself\nat home in the conditions of actual life. He dallies, seeks for more\npositive certainty buoyed up by the fair integrity of his soul; he\ncan, however, come to no firm decision, much as he has sought it,\nand permits himself to follow the course of external events. In this\natmosphere of unreality he goes yet further astray in matters that lie\ndirectly in his path; he kills the old Polonius instead of the king;\nhe acts in a hurry where he should have been more circumspect, yet\npersists in his self absorption, where decided action is essential;\nuntil at length, without any action on his part, the fated _d\u00e9nouement_\nof the entire drama, including that of his own persistently\nself-retiring personality, has unravelled itself on the broad highway\nof Life's external incidents and accidents.\n\nWe are particularly presented with this attitude in modern times\namong men of the lower levels of life, who are without an education\nwhich extends to aims of universal significance, or are devoid of the\nvariety of objective interests. Consequently when some _particular_\naim of their life fails they are unable to secure any further stay of\ntheir spiritual forces and a centre of control for their activities.\nThis lack of education tends to make reserved natures, in proportion\nas it is undeveloped, adhere with the more rigidness and obstinacy to\nthat which, through its appeal to their entire individuality, makes\na claim upon them however limited in its range it may be. We find\npre-eminently such a monotonous attitude incidental to this class\nof self-absorbed and speechless men among German characters, who\nfor this reason appear in their seclusion inclined to stubbornness,\nready to bristle up, crabbed, inaccessible, and in their dealings and\nexpressions wholly unreliable and contradictory. As a master in the\ndelineation and exposition of such obtuse characters of the poorer\nclasses we will mention but one example, Hippel, the author of \"Life's\nCareers in the Line of Ascent,\"[283] one of our few German works\nstamped with original humour. He keeps himself wholly removed from\nJean Paul's sentimentality and want of taste in plot construction,\nand possesses moreover an astonishing individuality, freshness, and\nvitality. He understands, in quite an exceptional way, and one that\nseizes on our interest at once, how to depict the thickset type of\npeople who are unable to breathe freely and who consequently, when\nthey do give themselves the rein, do so with a violence that is\nsimply fearful. They put an end of their own accord to the infinite\ncontradiction of their spiritual life and the unhappy circumstances\nin which they are involved in an appalling manner; and bring about by\nsuch means that which is otherwise the result of an external fate, as\nwe find, for instance, in \"Romeo and Juliet,\" where external accidents\nmar all the wise and able offices of the holy father's intervention and\ncause the death of the lovers.\n\n(_c_) We find, then, that characters of this formal quality generally\neither expose merely the infinite volitional force of the individual's\npersonality, which asserts itself frankly just as it is and storms\nahead in the bare impulse of the will; or, to take the further\naspect, present to us an essential self-contained[284], if not wholly\narticulate soul, which, affected as it becomes by one specific aspect\nof its spiritual experience, concentrates the entire breadth and\ndepth of its personality on this point, yet, owing to the fact of its\npossessing no development externally, is unable to find its proper\nplace or to act with practical sense when it comes into collision\nwith that world. We have yet a _third_ point[285] to mention, which\nconsists in this, that when characters of this type, wholly one-sided\nand restricted as they are in respect to their aims if at the same time\nfully developed in mental power, awake in us not merely a _formal_,\nbut also a _substantial_ interest, we cannot fail to receive the\nimpression that this limitation of their personal life is itself only\na condition that is inevitable; in other words it is a result which\ngrows out of the particular way in which their character is defined\nalong with the profounder content of their personal life. Shakespeare\nin fact enables us to see this depth and wealth in such characters.\nHe presents them to us as men of imaginative power and genius by\nshowing how their reflective faculty commands them and lifts them\nabove that which their condition and definite purpose would make them,\nso that they are all the while as it were forced by the misfortune\nof circumstances and the obstacles of their position into doing that\nwhich they accomplish. At the same time we do not mean this to the\nextent of asserting, for example, that the bad witches were to blame\nfor all that Macbeth dared after consulting them. These witches are\nrather to be looked at as the reflex of his own obstinate will. All\nthat the characters of Shakespeare execute, that is the particular\npurpose they propose, originates and finds the taproot of its force in\ntheir own personality. But along with this they maintain in one and\nthe same individuality a loftiness, which brushes aside that which\nthey actually are, so far as their aims, interests, and actions are\nconcerned, and which amplifies them and exalts them above themselves.\nIn like manner Shakespeare's more vulgar characters, such as Stephano,\nTrinculo, Pistol, and that hero among them all, Falstaff, though\nsaturated with their own debasement, assert themselves as fellows of\nintelligence, whose genial quality is able to take in everything,\nto possess a large and open atmosphere of its own, and in short\nmakes them all that great men are. In the tragedies of the French on\nthe contrary even the greatest and most worthy characters only too\nfrequently, if viewed critically, assert themselves as so many evil\noffshoots of the brute creation, whose only intelligence consists in\nthis that it can furnish dialectical arguments in its vindication.\nIn Shakespeare we find neither vindication nor damnation, but merely\na review of the general condition of destiny, which inevitably places\nsuch characters uncomplaining and unrepentant where they are, and from\nthe starting-point of which they see everything, themselves included;\nand yet as independent spectators of themselves decline and fall.\n\nIn all these respects the realm which is peopled by such individual\ncharacters is an infinitely rich one, a kingdom, however, which very\neasily collapses in hollowness and dulness, so that only quite a few\nmasters have received the gifts of poetical and intuitional power\nsufficient to enable them to reveal its truth.\n\n\n2. THE SPIRIT OF ADVENTURE\n\nNow that we have examined the aspect of the inward soul-life, which\nmay, at this stage of our inquiry, be presented by art, we must direct\nour attention to that which lies without it, to the particularity\nof circumstances and situations which affect character, also to the\ncollisions in which its development proceeds, and finally review the\nentire collective form, which this inward life assumes within the\nboundaries of concrete reality.\n\nIt is, as we have more than once pointed out, a fundamental determinant\nof romantic art, that the spiritual sense, in other words, the soul\nin its aspect of self-reflection, should constitute a whole, and\nrelates itself for this reason to the external world, not, in its own\nreality, inter-penetrated by this world, but as though related to\nsomething purely external and separated from it, which goes on its way\nindependently disjoined from Spirit, is thus evolved, and thus disposes\nof itself as a finite and continuously fluid, changing, and complicate\nobject of contingent causality[286]. To the self-absorbed soul it is\nas wholly a matter of indifference what particular circumstances it\nconfronts, as it is an affair of chance what those circumstances are\nwhich appear before it. For in its action it is less a matter of\nimportance that it should carry out a work whose essential basis is\nrooted in itself and owes its subsistency to its own character than\nthat it should generally make itself effective in action.\n\n(_a_) We have, in short, before us here a process which we may from\none point of view describe as the rejection of the Divine from\nNature. Spirit has here withdrawn itself from the externality of\nphenomena, which, for the reason that the inward life no longer sees\nitself reflected in this sphere[287], is now independently clothed\non its part under a relation of indifference exterior to the subject\nof consciousness. Relatively to its truth Spirit is, no doubt, in\nits own medium mediated and reconciled with the Absolute: but in so\nfar as we now take up our position on the ground of self-subsistent\nindividuality, which proceeds from itself as it discovers itself in\nits immediacy, this divesting of the Divine[288] affects character in\nits active capacity. It moves forward, that is to say, with its own\ncontingent aims into a world equally subject to chance, with which\nit fails to unite itself in an essentially harmonious whole. This\nrelative character of purpose in an environment which is relative,\nwhose determination and development does not subsist in the individual\nmind, but is defined externally and contingently and is responsible for\ncollisions equally adventitious, which appear as offshoots that are\nunexpectedly interwoven with it, creates that to which we give the name\nof \"the adventurous,\" which supplies the _fundamental type_ of romance\nfor the mode of its events and actions.\n\nIt is necessary that the action and dramatic event in so far as they\napply strictly to the Ideal and classic art, should be referable\nto an essentially true or, in other words, independently explicit\nand necessary end, in whose conformation that which is also the\ndeterminating factor for the external form, for the particular type and\nmode of execution, is an object of real existence. In the case of the\nacts and events of romantic art this is not the case. For, although\nessentially universal and substantive ends are also presented in their\nmanner of realization by this type, the definition of the action which\nis referable to such ends, and the principle of co-ordination and\narticulation which appears in its progress on its spiritual side[289]\nis not the direct result of those ends themselves; this aspect of\nrealization is inevitably left independent and subject to the operation\nof contingency.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The romantic world had one and only _one absolute_ work to\naccomplish, namely, the extension of Christendom, and the bringing into\nmanifest performance the spirit of the community[290]. Situated in the\nmidst of a hostile world consisting in part of the unbelieving ancient\n_r\u00e9gime_, and in part of a human life which was barbarous and coarse,\nthe character of its actual accomplishment, in so far as it passed\nfrom mere theory to deeds, was, in the main, the passive endurance of\npain and torture, the sacrifice of its own temporal existence for the\neternal salvation of the soul. A further product of its energies, which\nis equally a portion of the same essential content, is, in the Middle\nAges, that carried out by Christian Chivalry, the driving forth of the\nMoors, Arabs, and Mohammedans generally from Christian countries, and,\nabove all, along with it, the conquest of the Holy Sepulchre in the\nCrusades. This, however, was not an object which affected man simply as\nhuman[291], but one which a mere collection of isolated individuals had\nto accomplish under conditions in which the individuals which composed\nit streamed together at their own free will and pleasure as such. From\nsuch a point of view we may call the Crusades the collective adventure\nof the Christian Middle Ages; an adventure, which was essentially\nsubject to lapses[292], and fantastical, of a spiritual tendency, and\nyet devoid of a truly spiritual aim, and in its relation to action and\ncharacter delusive. For in its relation to the processes of religion,\nthe supreme object of the Crusades is in the highest degree empty and\nexternal. Christianity purported to secure its salvation solely in\nSpirit, in Christ, who is raised to the right hand of God; it finds\nits living reality and stay in Spirit, not in the grave of Spirit, or\nin the sensuous, immediately present localities of its former temporal\nabiding-place. The impulse and religious yearning of the Middle\nAges, however, was centred on the spot, the external locality of the\nPassion and the Holy Sepulchre. In just the same direct contradiction\nwith the religious object we find that wholly worldly one which was\nbound up with conquest; a possession, which in its relation to the\nsecular world, carried a totally different character to that of a truly\nreligious purpose. Men would fain win for themselves what was spiritual\nand health to their souls, and they set before them as an aim a purely\nmaterial locality, from which Spirit had vanished; they strained after\na gain that was temporal, and united this which was of the world to the\npure substance of religion. It is this distraction which gives us the\ndiscordant and fantastic note in such enterprises in which we find that\nwhich is of the world confound the life of soul, or the latter prove\nthe confounding of the former instead of a harmony which is the result\nof both. And for the same reason much that is contradictory appears in\nthe execution unresolved. Piety is carried to the point of rawness and\nbarbarous cruelty. And this rawness permits every kind of selfishness\nand passion to break forth, or casts itself conversely once more upon\nthe eternal depths which either move or bruise the human spirit, and\nwhich are, in truth, the heart and substance of the matter. In the\nmedley of elements so discrepant, there is also an absence of all unity\nin the object proposed by the exploits and events themselves, or in\nthe consequential power of authority. The host of men is diverted and\nsplit up in single adventures, victories, defeats, and a variety of\naccidents; and the outcome of it all fails to correspond to the means\nand enormous preparations which were involved. Nay, the object itself\nis stultified in the execution. For the Crusades would once again bring\ntruth to the sentence: \"Thou couldst not leave him in peace in the\ngrave, thou didst not suffer thy holy one to see corruption.\" But it\nis precisely this longing to find Christ and spiritual content in such\nplaces and spaces, even the grave itself, the place of death, which\nis itself, whatever essential worth even a Chateaubriand may make out\nof it, a corruption of Spirit, out of which Christianity must rise in\nresurrection in order to return once more to the fresh and abundant\nlife of the concrete world.\n\nAn object of much the same kind, mystical from one point of view,\nequally fantastical from another, and adventurous in its undertaking,\nis the search of the Holy Grail.\n\n(_\u03b2_) A more exalted emprise is that which every man has to go through\nin his own domain, his life, in the course of which he determines\nhis eternal destiny. It is this object which Dante has, consistently\nwith the catholic standpoint, seized upon in his \"Divine Comedy\" as\nhe conducts us in turn through hell, purgatory, and paradise. In this\npoem, too, despite the strenuous co-ordination of the whole, we have\nabundant evidence of conceptions which are fantastic[293], aspects that\nare suffused with the spirit of adventure, in so far, at any rate, as\nthis work in its blessing and cursing is not carried through merely in\nthe explicit form of universal statement, but as referable to an almost\ninnumerable company of distinct personalities, not to mention the fact\nthat the _poet_ takes upon himself the _fiat_ of his church, seizes\nthe keys of heaven in his hand, adjudicates both bliss and damnation,\nand so constitutes himself the judge of the v world, who places the\nbest known individuals both of the ancient and Christian eras, whether\npoets, citizens, cardinals, or popes, respectively in hell, purgatory,\nor paradise.\n\n(_\u03b3_) The remaining material, on the basis of the _worldly_ life, which\nleads up to action and event, consists in the infinitely manifold\nand venturesome experiments of imaginative idea, all that element of\nchance in what arises either without or within the soul from love,\nhonour, and fidelity. At one time we may see men thus affected box\nthe compass for their own reputation's sake, at another leap to help\npersecuted innocence, carry out amazing exploits in defence of the\nhonour of their lady, or vindicate some right that is invaded with the\nstrength of their own arm, and the able use of their own weapons; and\nthis albeit the innocence which is delivered prove only a company of\nknaves. In the majority of such cases there is absolutely no condition,\nno situation, no conflict before us in virtue of which we can assert\nthat action follows as a _necessary_ result. The soul simply wills it\nand _intentionally_ looks out for adventure. The exploits of love,\nfor instance, in such cases have for the most part, if we look at\ntheir more specific content, no other real principle of determination\nbeyond the effort to give proof of the steadfastness, fidelity, and\nconstancy of love, to testify that all the surrounding world, together\nwith the entire complexus of its relations, is merely of value as so\nmuch material in which love may be brought to light. For this reason\nthe specific act of such manifestation, since the only thing that\nmatters is the proof, is not determined by its own course, but is left\ndependent on a freak of chance, the mood of the lady, the caprice of\nexternal accidents. The same principle holds where the objects are\nhonour or bravery. They are proper to an individual who holds himself\nfar aloof from all further content of a more substantive character, who\nis perfectly able to enter into any and every content as it may chance\nto occur, to find himself the object of insult therein, or to look for\nan opportunity in which he may display his courage and shrewdness.\nAs we have here absolutely no criterion as to what should or what\nshould not form part of this content, in the same way also we have no\nprinciple in accordance with which we can fix what in each case is\nreally an attack upon honour or the true subject-matter of bravery. It\nis just the same with the treatment of _right_, which is likewise an\nobject of chivalry. In other words, right and law are here not as yet\nasserted as a condition and object which is of essentially independent\nstability, or as a system which is continuously made more perfect in\naccordance with law and its necessary content, but as themselves purely\nthe product of individual caprice, so that their interposition, no\nless than the judgment passed upon that which in every particular case\nis held to be right or wrong, is throughout relegated to the entirely\nhaphazard criteria of individual judgment.\n\n(_b_) What we have before us generally, more particularly on the\nsecular field, in chivalry and the formalism of character above\nindicated, is not merely, to a more or less degree, the contingency of\nthe circumstantial conditions of human action, but also that of the\nsoul in its attitude of volition. For individuals of this one-sided\ncharacterization are capable of accepting as the substance of their\nlife that which is wholly contingent, conduct that is only sustained\nby virtue of the energy of their character, and is carried out, or\nfails in its contact with the inevitable collisions which the condition\nof the world opposes to it. The same thing is true of the chivalry\nwhich receives in honour, love, and fidelity a more lofty ground of\njustification, and one entitled to rank with a truly ethical basis. On\nthe one hand, it is still emphatically a matter of chance on account of\nthe particular aspect of the circumstances on which it reacts; we find\nthat here the object is to carry out aims peculiar to some particular\nperson, instead of some work of general significance, and the modes\nof its attachment with the rest of life fail to possess independent\nstability. On the other hand, precisely at the point where we consider\nsuch action as part of the personal life of individuals, we are aware\nof the presence of caprice and illusion in respect to all that it\neither projects, originates, or undertakes. The net result of such a\nspirit of enterprise consequently, through all that it performs or\nenters upon, no less than in its ultimate effects, is no other than a\nworld of events and fatalities which is self-dissolvent, a world of\ncomedy for this very reason.\n\nThis self-dissolution of Chivalry we find set before us and\nartistically reproduced, pre-eminently and with unsurpassed adequacy,\nby Ariosto and Cervantes, and, so far as it affects the fate of\nsuch highly individual characters as those above described in their\nisolation, by Shakespeare.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In Ariosto, more particularly, an attempt is made to delight the\nreader with the infinitely varied developments of personal destiny and\naims, the fabulous complexity of fantastic relations and ludicrous\nsituations over which the adventurous fancy of the poet plays to\nthe point of absolute frivolity. The heroes of these dramas are\nseriously engaged in what is often unadulterated folly and the wildest\neccentricity. And, to note especial points, love is frequently degraded\nfrom the Divine love of a Dante, or the romantic tenderness of a\nPetrarca, to sensual tales and ludicrous collisions; or heroism appears\nto be screwed up to a pitch that is so incredible it ceases to amaze,\nand merely excites a smile over the fabulousness of such exploits. By\nvirtue, however, of this indifference in respect to the particular\nmanner in which dramatic situations are brought about, astonishing\ncomplications and conflicts are introduced, broken off and once more\ninterwoven, chopped about, and finally resolved in a surprising way;\nyet, despite his ludicrous treatment of chivalry, Ariosto is as able\nto secure and display to us the true nobility and greatness which we\nmay find in chivalry, or the exhibition of courage, love, honour, and\nbravery, as he can on occasion excellently depict other passions,\ncunning, subtlety, presence of mind, and much else.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Just as Ariosto inclines more to the _fabulous_ element in this\nspirit of adventure, Cervantes develops that aspect of it which is\nappropriate to _romantic_ fiction. We find in his Don Quixote a noble\nnature in whose adventures chivalry goes mad, the substance of such\nadventures being placed as the centre of a stable and well-defined\nstate of things whose external character is copied with exactness\nfrom nature. This produces the humorous contradiction of a rationally\nconstituted world on the one hand, and an isolated soul on the other,\nwhich seeks to create the same order and stability entirely through\nhis own exertions and the knight-errantry which could only destroy\nit. Despite, however, this ludicrous confusion we have still in Don\nQuixote that which we have already eulogized in Shakespeare. Cervantes\nhas created in his hero an original figure of noble nature endowed\nwith varied spiritual qualities, and one which at the same time\nthroughout retains our full interest. In all the madness of his mind\nand his enterprise he is a completely consistent[294] soul, or rather\nhis madness lies in this, that he is and remains securely rooted in\nhimself and his enterprise. Without this unreflecting equanimity\nrespectively to the content and result of his actions he would fail\nto be a truly romantic figure; and this self-assuredness, if we look\nat the substantive character of his opinions, is throughout great and\nindicative of his genius, adorned as it is with the finest traits of\ncharacter. And, further, the entire work is a satire upon the chivalry\nof romance, ironical from beginning to end in the truest sense. In\nAriosto this genius of adventure is merely the butt of frivolous jest.\nFrom another point of view, however, the exploits of Don Quixote are\nmerely the central thread around which a succession of genuinely\nromantic tales are intertwined in the most charming way, in order\nto unfold the true worth of that which the romance in other respects\nscatters to the winds with the genius of comedy.\n\n(_\u03b3_) In somewhat the same way as we thus have seen chivalry, even\nin respect to its most momentous interests, overturned in comedy,\nShakespeare, too, either places the characters and scenes of comedy in\njuxtaposition to his downright and stable individualities, and tragic\nsituations and conflicts, or exalts the essential figures of his drama\nthrough a profound humour above themselves and their uncouth, limited,\nand false purposes. Falstaff, the fool in \"Lear,\" the musician scene in\n\"Romeo and Juliet,\" will sufficiently illustrate the first alternative,\nand Richard III the second.\n\n(_c_) The dissolution of romance, in the sense we have hitherto\nregarded it, introduces us finally and in the third place to the\nspirit of the _novel_[295], in our modern sense of the term, which\nhistorically the knight-errantry and pastoral romances precede. This\nspirit of modern fiction is, in fact, that of chivalry, once more\ntaken seriously and receiving a true content. The contingent character\nof external existence has changed to a stable, secure order of civic\nsociety and state-life, so that now police administration, tribunals\nof justice, the army and political government generally take the place\nof those chimerical objects which the knight of chivalry proposed to\nhimself. For this reason the knightly character of the heroes who\nplay their parts in our modern novels is altered. Confronted by the\nexisting order and the ordinary prose of life they appear before us as\nindividuals with personal aims of love, honour, ambition, and ideals of\nworld reform, ideals in the path of which that order presents obstacles\non every side. The result is that personal desires and demands unroll\nthemselves[296] before this opposition to unfathomable heights. Every\nman finds himself face to face with an enchanted world that is by no\nmeans all that he asks for, which he must contend with for the reason\nthat it contends with himself, and in its tenacious stability refuses\nto give way before his passions, but interposes as an obstacle the\nwill of some one else whoever it may be, his father's, his aunt's, or\nsocial conditions generally. For the most part such a knighthood will\nconsist of young people, who feel it incumbent upon them to hew their\nway through a world which makes for its own realization rather than\nthat of their ideals, and who hold it a misfortune that there should\nbe family ties, civic society, state laws, professions, and all the\nrest of such things at all, because conditions of such solidity and so\ninevitably restricted are so cruelly opposed to their ideal dreams and\nthe infinite claims of their souls. The main object now is to drive a\nbreach through this wall of facts, to change, to improve, or at least\ncarve for themselves in despite of it some little heaven on earth such\nas they seek for, their ideal maiden, discover her, win her from the\nclutches of her wicked relations or her evil circumstances, carry her\noff and lay the balm of love on her wounds. Conflicts of this kind,\nhowever, in our modern world are the apprentice years, the education of\nindividuality in the actual world; they have no further significance,\nbut the significance has, nevertheless, a real value. The object\nand consummation of such apprenticeship consists in this, that the\nindividual drops his horns and finds his own place, together with his\nwishes and opinions in social conditions as they are and the rational\norder which belongs to them, that he enters, in short, upon the varied\nfield of life, and secures that position within it which is appropriate\nto his powers. However soundly he may have rated the world and have\nbeen shoved on one side, the day comes at last with the most of us\nwhen the maiden is discovered and some kind of place in the world, he\nmarries, and is as much a Philistine as the rest of his neighbours. His\nwife takes charge of his domestic arrangements; children do not fail to\nput in an appearance; the adorable wife who was so unique, an angel,\nacts very much as other wives do; the profession supplies its toils\nand vexations, the married tie its domestic sorrows, and, in short, we\nhave the entire process of marital caterwauling once more illustrated.\nIn this history we may see the same old type of the adventurous spirit\nwith this distinction, that here that spirit discovers its real\nsignificance, and all that is wholly fantastic in it receives its\nnecessary correction.\n\n\n3. THE DISSOLUTION OF THE ROMANTIC TYPE OF ART\n\nThe last point which we have to establish still more closely is\nthat relatively to which the romantic spirit, for the reason that\nit already is _intrinsically_ the principle of the dissolution of\nthe classic Ideal, manifests, in fact, this _dissolution_ clearly as\nsuch a process. In this connection it is of the first importance to\nconsider the ultimately complete contingent and external character\nof the material, which the activity of the artist seizes on and\ninforms. In the plastic material of the plastic arts the spiritual\nconception is so related to the external medium that this external\nshow is the embodiment which uniquely belongs to that spiritual\nsignificance itself, and possesses no real independence apart from\nit. In romantic art, on the contrary, in which we find the inwardness\nof Spirit withdraws within its own domain, the entire content of the\n_external_ world secures the freedom of unfettered independence and the\nassured subsistency of its own peculiar character and particularity.\nConversely, as we have seen, if the personal life of soul forms the\nessential feature in the artistic product, it is a question of similar\nindifference with what specific content of external reality and the\nspiritual world the soul is vitally connected. The romantic Idea can\ntherefore assert itself through _every_ sort of condition; can embrace\nevery conceivable position, circumstance, relation, aberration,\nconfusion, conflict, and means of satisfaction; it is simply its own\npersonal and self-subsistent mode of conformation, the expression and\nreceptive form of the soul rather than any objective independently\nvalid form which is the object of search and is made good. In the\nrepresentation of romantic art therefore everything has its due place,\nall the departments and phenomena of life, the greatest and the least,\nthe highest and most insignificant, what is moral with that which\nis immoral and evil. And we may further note in particular that the\nmore secular the art becomes, the more it amasses the finite wealth\nof the world, the more it takes to it with, delight, bestows upon\nit a validity that is without reserve and exists for the artist in\nsuch a world under the sole condition that it is reproduced in its\nnaked reality, so much the more is art at home with itself. Thus we\nmay observe in Shakespeare, on account of the fact that with him the\naction as a rule runs its course in the most realistic association\nwith objective life, and is isolated and broken up in a mass of purely\naccidental relations, and conditions of every kind, the least important\nand most incidental no less than the most sovereign flights and most\nweighty interests of poetry are each and all substantiated. So in\n\"Hamlet\" we have the sentry on watch no less than the royal court;\nin \"Romeo and Juliet\" the domestic _m\u00e9nage_; in other pieces, not to\nmention clowns, swashbucklers, and all the vulgarities of ordinary\nlife, we have pot-houses, carriers, chamber-pots and fleas, much as\nin the representations by romantic art of the birth of Christ and the\nadoration of the kings we do not fail to find oxen and asses, mangers\nand straw[297]. And this is the kind of thing throughout, that the\nscriptural text may receive its fulfilment, too, in art, \"they that are\nof low estate shall be exalted.\" It is from out this contingent sphere\nof its subject-matter, which in a measure asserts itself as merely the\nenvironment of a content intrinsically more important and in part also\nin absolute independence, that the _downfall_ of romantic art issues,\nto which we have already above adverted. In other words we have, on the\none hand, objective reality placed before us in what is from the point\nof view of the Ideal its _prosaic objectivity_, that is, the content of\neveryday life, which is not grasped in the substantive form in which\nit adumbrates what is both moral and divine, but rather in that which\nis for ever changing and which as temporal passes away. And, in the\nfurther aspect of it, it is also the _subjective condition_, which,\nwith its emotion and insight, with the principle and authority of its\nwit or humour, is able to exalt itself in mastery over the entire world\nof the real, a mastery which leaves nothing in the ordinary connections\nand significance where the commonsense consciousness finds it, and\nis not fully satisfied until it has proved that everything which is\na part of that world is, by virtue of the form and relative position\nwhich it receives from the view of it, mood and supreme gifts of the\nartist[298], itself intrinsically capable of being broken up, and, as\nsuch, is for the artistic vision and feeling dissolved. We have now, in\nthis connection, first, to add a few words on the principle contained\nin those very varied works of art whose level of representation\napproximates closely to the ordinary appearance of objective or\nexternal reality, what in common parlance is called the imitation of\nNature.\n\n_Secondly_, we shall have to discuss humour as a personal quality\nin the artist. It plays a very considerable part in modern art, and\nis that which in the case of many poets distinctively supplies the\nfundamental character of their work.\n\n_Thirdly_, it remains for us to offer a few suggestions, in conclusion,\non the point of view from which it is still possible for the art of\nto-day to find a field for its activities.\n\n\n(_a_) _The Artistic Imitation of what is Immediately presented by\nNature_\n\nThe realm of subjects which may be included in this sphere v of\nartistic activity may be extended indefinitely for the reason that Art\ntakes for its content here not that which is by its own inherent law\nnecessary[299], the range of which is essentially self-contained, but\nthe contingent phenomena of reality in their unlimited modifications\nof form and relation, Nature and her kaleidoscopic play of separate\npictures, the everyday action and affairs of man in his dependence\non natural conditions and their means of his satisfaction, in his\naccidental habits also, attitudes, activities of family life, his\nbusiness as a citizen, and, generally, the incalculable variety of\nall that shifts and changes in the world around us. And for this\nreason this art is not merely, in the broad sense that applies more\nor less to the romantic spirit in all its manifestations, a type\nof portraiture: rather it tends to lose itself completely in the\nmode of its portrayal, whether it be in sculpture, painting, or in\nthe descriptions of poetry. The tendency is to return to the exact\nimitation of Nature, in other words, to the intentional approach to\nthe contingent aspects of what is immediately before the vision and\nindependently thus presented, prosaic existence in all its ugliness no\nless than its beauty. The question, therefore, at once suggests itself\nwhether productions of this character have any right to be called art\nat all. No doubt, if we simply fix before our attention the notion of\nartistic work which fully corresponds to the Ideal, work which from one\npoint of view it is of the first importance that their content shall\nnot be thus intrinsically accidental or evanescent, and from another\npoint of view that their mode of presentation must be adequate in all\nrespects to such a content, then such artistic productions as we are\nnow considering will unquestionably appear to fall short. On the other\nhand, there is another fundamental aspect of art which assumes here\nan exceptional importance. This is the conception and execution of a\nwork of art which are personal to the artist, the aspect, that is, of\nan individual talent, which is able to remain true to the inherently\nsubstantive life of Nature no less than the embodiments of spiritual\nexperience though carried to the very limits of contingent condition\nwith which they may be involved, and which is further competent through\nthe vividness of its truth to import a significance into that which\nis by itself insignificant, no less than by the amazing ability of\nthe technical execution itself. We have consequently to consider here\nthe degree in which the soul, that is, the genius and vitality of the\nartist, is able to enter into the very being of such objects--whether\nwe consider their dominant idea[300], or the purely external form\nof their appearance--and thus makes them visible in his art to our\neyes. And if we look at it from this point of view it will be found\nimpossible to deny that such creations have a genuine claim to the name\nof art-products.\n\nIf we approach such more closely we shall find that among the\nparticular arts poetry and painting are the ones which are most\noccupied with their subject-matter. For, on the one hand, we see here\nthat it is that which is itself essentially particular which supplies\ntheir content, and on the other hand it is the accidental though in\nthis type of art the genuine peculiarities of the objective appearance\nwhich is sought for as the mode of the reproduction. Neither the arts\nof architecture, sculpture, or music are adapted to the fulfilment of\nsuch a task.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In poetry it is ordinary domestic life--the main source, that is,\nof the probity, commonsense spirit, and the morality of everyday[301]\nlife--which is presented by art in the usual developments of civic\nlife, in scenes and characters selected from the middle and lower\nclasses. Among the French Diderot stands out conspicuous for the way\nin which he has thus insisted on natural effects and the imitation\nof the bluntness of fact. Among Germans it was Goethe and Schiller\nwho, with more lofty aim, struck out a path somewhat similar in their\nyouth, but rather, within this naturalness of life itself and its\nparticular detail, sought after a profounder content and conflicts\nof essential significance. And in contrast to them we have Kotzebue\nand Iffland, both of whom, in their several ways, the first with a\nsuperficial rapidity of conception and execution, the second with a\nmore conscientious accuracy of detail and a homely kind of morality,\ngave us the counterfeit of the daily life of their time in the prosaic\npicture of its more limited aspects, with but a limited sense, either\nof them, for genuine poetry. And generally, we may say, that it is\nGerman art more than any other, and particularly that of our own times,\nwhich has fastened with delight on this kind of treatment till it has\nreached a sort of. virtuosity in it. In fact for a long period back Art\nwas more or less something of a stranger and a guest in our country,\nnot the child of our own loins.\n\nFurther, we may observe that in this attraction to the reality that\nlies actually before us it is essential that the material assimilated\nby such an art be cognate with such reality and at home in it[302];\nit must be the national life of the poet and his immediate public.\nIt is on this very point of the kind of appropriation suited to an\nart such as our own, which carried the purpose both in its content\nand its methods of representation of making us feel at home in it,\neven to the extent of sacrificing both beauty and ideality, that the\nimpulse originated which led to such a type of artistic production.\nOther nations have been inclined to reject such material with scorn,\nor only in more recent times have taken a more vital interest in such\nopportunities as the ordinary course of human life offers.\n\n(_\u03b2_) If we desire, however, to see what is most worthy of our\nadmiration in such productions, we must turn our attention to the later\ngenre-painting of the Dutch. We have already in the first part of this\nwork, when examining the intrinsic character of the Ideal, indicated,\nso far as the general spirit of it is concerned, what we take to be\nthe substantial basis of such work[303]. That contentment in life\nunder its presentment of direct experience down to the most ordinary\nand most insignificant detail is mainly due to the fact that this\npeople was obliged to work out for itself only after severe struggles\nand hard labour that which Nature supplies with far less reserve to\nother peoples. Further, circumscribed as it is by local conditions,\nit has become great in this very concern for and appreciation of the\nleast things. From another point of view it is a people of fishermen,\nsailors, citizens, and peasants, and for this reason is forced from\nthe start to rate highly all that may be useful and necessary both in\nmatters of greatest and least importance which it knows how to secure\nwith the most assiduous industry. As a further essential feature of its\ndevelopment the religion of this Dutch folk was Protestantism, and it\nis an exclusive characteristic of this form of religion that it seeks\nto find a home in the prose of life and suffers the same to remain\njust as it is by itself, and independently of religious associations,\nand to retain its forms of growth in unrestricted freedom. It would\nbe quite impossible for any other nation, situated in other external\nconditions, to create works of art of such pre-eminent quality from\nthe kind of material which we have placed before us in the Dutch\nschool of painting. And, moreover, despite the peculiar nature of this\nartistic interest, the Dutch have not by any means discovered their\nwhole life-in what was necessitous or barren in the conditions of their\nexistence and what tended to oppress their vitality: on the contrary,\nthey have reformed their church itself, have overcome a religious\ndespotism precisely as they overcame the world-power and majesty of\nSpain, and have finally through their exertions, their industry, their\nbravery and thrift secured for themselves, in the consciousness of\ntheir self-attained liberty, prosperity, comfort, rectitude, courage,\njoviality, nay, even a superabundant sense of the joys of ordinary\nexistence. Herein lies the vindication of the typical subject-matter of\ntheir art. The material of such an art will not, however, satisfy that\nprofounder significance which is due to a content that is essentially\ntrue. If, however, neither our emotional nor our critical faculties\nare wholly content with it the more we consider it closely the more\nwe shall feel reconciled to such defects. It is an essential part of\nthe art of painting and the man who paints that they should please and\ncarry us away with that sense of pleasure. And, to put it bluntly, if\nwe would really know what painting is, in looking at any particular\ncanvas we must be, at least, able to say of the master in question:\n\"Ah, this man can paint.\" The main point, therefore, does not turn on\nthe question how far the artist in his work is able to give us an exact\ntranscription of the object he presents before us. We have already the\ncompletest vision of grapes, flowers, stags, sand-hills, sea, sun,\nsky, the finery and decoration of ordinary life, horses, warriors,\npeasants, smokers, teeth-extraction, and every kind of domestic scene.\nWe have only to go to Nature for such things and others like them. What\nought to captivate us is not the content in its bare reality. Rather\nit is the appearance, which in comparison with the object is wholly\nwithout interest[304]. This appearance is, moreover, by itself fixed\nindependently of the beautiful[305], and art consists in the mastery\nof its reproduction of all the mysteries of the ever self-deepening\nappearance of external phenomena[306]. And, above all, the function of\nart consists in this that, armed with an exceptionally fine sense for\nsuch things, it lies in ambush for the momentary and wholly transient\ntraits which it finds upon the surrounding world observed in its\nindividual aspects of life, aspects which, however, completely coincide\nwith the universal laws that dominate the appearance, and can retain\ntrue and secure the most fading apparition. A tree, a landscape, is\nsomething of independent and permanent stability. But to seize upon the\nflash of a metal, the gleam of light through the grape, a vanishing\nglance of the moon or the sun, a smile, the expressions of spiritual\nlife which are no sooner seen than they vanish, or ludicrous movements,\nsituations, and attitudes, to master such evanescent material as this\nis the difficult task of this type of work. If classic art in its\nIdeal has essentially confined its embodiment to that which is purely\nsubstantive so here we have opened to our vision the changes of Nature\nin their fleeting forms of expression, a stream of water, a waterfall,\nwaves of foam on the sea, still life with the accidental flashes of\nglass, plate, and things of like nature, the outward appearance of man\nin the most exceptional situations, a wife, for instance, threading her\nneedle by candle-light, a halt of robbers suddenly surprised, the most\ninstantaneous fraction of some human posture, the smile or sneer of a\npeasant, all the things, in fact, in which men like Ostade, Teniers,\nor Steen are masters. It is the triumph of art over the Past, in which\nthe substantive is likewise filched of its power over that which is\naccidental and transitory.\n\nAnd just as the appearance simply as such reflects the real content\nof objects, so we may say that Art, in giving a permanent form to\nthe evanescent show of things, goes a step further. In other words,\nquite apart from the objective realization, the means adopted in the\nreproduction are themselves independently an end, in the sense that\nthe individual ability of the artist, and his use of the means his\nart supplies, may itself rank as one of the objects aimed at by the\nart product. In quite the early days of the school the artists of the\nNetherlands studied profoundly the qualities of colour in its relation\nto material substances[307]. Van Eyck, Hemling, and Schoreel[308] were\nall of them capable of imitating in the most realistic way the sheen\nof gold and silver, the varied light effects of jewels, silk, velvet,\nand fur-stuffs. A mastery of this kind which, by the magic of colour\nand the mysteries of its enchantment, is able to bring about artistic\nresults so entirely surprising requires no further vindication; it\njustifies itself. As Spirit in thought and in its grasp of the world\nby means of ideas and thoughts reproduces itself, so what is most\nimportant here is the individual recreation of the external world,\nindependently of the bare object itself, in the sensuous medium, of\ncolours under effects of light and shade. It is in fact a kind of\nobjective music, a system of colour tones. In music the single tone is\nof no value and only produces the musical effect in its relation to\nsome other, in its opposition, concord, modulation, and unison. It is\nprecisely the same thing with the music of colour. If we consider the\nappearance of painted colour closely such as the gleam of gold or the\nflash from the steel of battle we shall only see a number of white or\nyellow dashes, points, coloured surfaces. The single colour alone does\nnot possess this gleam which we gather from the picture. It is only\nby its association with other tints that we get the effect of glitter\nand flash. Take for example the Atlas of Terburg; every individual\nstrip of colour here alone is simply a dull gray, more or less whitish,\nbluish, or inclining to yellow: only when we take in the entire effect\nfrom a distance, which gives us the relative contrast of each part to\nthe rest, dawns upon us the beautiful soft sheen which is true of the\ngenuine Atlas. And it is just the same with our velvet effect, play\nof light, exhalation of cloud and so on through all pictorial effect\nwhatsoever. It is not so much the reflex of the artist's mood[309],\nwhich, as is no doubt frequently the case with landscape, transfers\nitself to the objects delineated, as it is the entire ability of the\nartist, which seeks to make itself felt in this objective way as the\nuse of the means at his disposal in such a vital interaction that they\nthemselves straightway of their own cunning bring to birth a world of\nobjects.\n\n(_\u03b3_) And consequently the interest in the objects delineated tends to\nrevert to the fact that it is the unique powers of the artist himself\nwhich are thus consciously displayed, and for which the embodiment of\na work of art, independently complete and self-composed, is not of so\nmuch importance as a production in which the creative artist unveils\nto us simply his genius. In so far as this _personal_ aspect is no\nlonger concerned with the external means of presentation but affects\nthe _content_ itself of the work, the art becomes thereby the art of\ncaprice and humour.\n\n\n(_b_) _The Humour of Personality_[310]\n\nIn humour it is the personality of the artist, which so reproduces\nitself both in its particular idiosyncrasies and profounder content,\nthat the main thing of importance is the spiritual value of this\npersonality.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Inasmuch as humour does not so much propose to itself the task\nof unfolding and informing an objective content according to its own\nessential character, and, by artistic means, of articulating and\nrounding it off in such a self-evolved process, as it consists in the\nartist's own self-manifestation in the material, he will be mainly\nconcerned to let everything which tends to become an object and to\nsecure the rigid lines of reality, or which appears in the external\nworld, fall away and dissolve under the powerful solvent of his own\nfancies, flashes of thought and arresting modes of conception. By this\nmeans every appearance of self-subsistency in such a content, the\nembodiment of which is secured in its coalescence through means of a\ngiven fact, is entirely destroyed, and the product is now simply a play\nwith certain objects, a derangement or a turning upside down of a given\nmaterial, the enterprise of a rover throughout such, the interwoven\nwoof of the artist's own expression; views and moods, through which\nhe gives free scope to himself quite as much as to his immediate\nsubject-matter.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The illusion which readily springs from such a type of art\nconsists in this, that though it is a very easy matter to make either\noneself or the object given the butt of drollery and wit, and for this\nreason the form of humorous composition is that frequently adopted,\nyet quite as often as not we find that the humour is dull enough when\nour artist gives free rein to any chance conceits or jest which may\noccur, which in their loose and patchy connections range to excess\nbeyond all reasonable limits, and with intentional eccentricity bind\nup frequently together the most alien matter. Some nations have\nproved themselves indulgent to such artistic experiments, others are\nmore severe. Among the French such attempts at humorous composition\nhave not as a rule been successful; we Germans have done better, and\nwe are more tolerant to the defects of such a style. Jean Paul, for\ninstance, is a much admired humourist among us; and yet it would be\ndifficult to point to any writer who is more eccentric in the way he\nbrings to the common fund what is most remote from his subject, and\npatches together an incredibly motley assemblage of subjects, whose\nsole bond of relationship is one of the artist's own fancy. The story,\nthe matter and progress of events are the features of least interest\nin his romances. The main attraction throughout is the sportive\nprocession of his humour which uses everything in its course as a means\nto establish his own triumph as a humourist. In this subordination\nto itself and concatenation of every conceivable stuff that can be\nraked out of the four quarters of the world, or the realm of the real,\nthe material of humour approximates once more to that of symbolism,\nwherein significance and conformity likewise are disjoined, with this\ndifference, however, that in the former it is purely the personality\nof the poet which commands the material no less than the significance,\nco-ordinating them according to his own caprice[311]. Such a series\nof freaks and fancies soon tires us, more particularly when we are\nexpected to live as best we can in the not unfrequently barely\ndecipherable combinations which have passed somehow or another in the\nclouds of the poet's brain. With Jean Paul, as with scarce another, one\nmetaphor, sally of wit, drollery, or simile proves the death of its\nneighbour. Nothing grows; there is an explosion, that is all. A plot,\nhowever, which purports to have a _d\u00e9nouement_ must first be unfolded\nand prepared for such solution. From another point of view, when the\nartist in question is essentially devoid of the solid core and support\nof a mind and heart overflowing with the real actualities of existence,\nhis humour very readily lapses into what is sentimental and morbid.\nAnd in this respect Jean Paul is no less an example.\n\n(_\u03b3_) In a humour of the best kind, which keeps itself aloof from\nsuch excrescences, we must therefore have a genuinely spiritual\ndepth and wealth, able to exalt that which issues as the emanation\nof a personality to the rank of real expression, and capable of\nmaking that which is truly substantive arise from that which the\nchance suggestions, the mere caprices of the artist, dictate. The\nself-abandonment of the poet in the course of his exposition must\nbe, as it is with humourists such as Sterne or Hippel, a wholly\nunembarrassed, easy-going, scarce perceptible kind of saunter[312],\nwhich, insignificant though it appear, manages precisely by that means\nto strike at the root of the main idea; and, for the reason that what\nthus bubbles up in haphazard fashion are matters of detail, it is\nessential that the conception, which binds the whole ideally together,\nshould have the deeper foundation, and that such detail should simply\nflash forth the focal spark of genius.\n\nWe have now arrived at the point where romantic art itself for the\npresent terminates. It is the standpoint of our most modern outlook,\nwhose distinctive characteristic we shall find to be mainly this, that\nthe individual personality[313] of the artist stands supreme above both\nthe material he informs and his creation. He is no longer dominated by\nthe conditions of an essentially restricted sphere, in which he must\naccept as given both the content and form of his work; it now lies in\nhis power to choose either as he wills, and to retain both on similar\nterms.\n\n(_c_) _The End of the Romantic Type of Art_\n\nArt, in so far as it has hitherto been the subject of our inquiry, had\nfor its fundamental basis the unity of significance and form, and, as a\nfurther type of it, the unity of the personality of the artist with the\nwork he embodies and creates[313]. More closely defined we may say that\nit was the specific type of this union, which supplied the content and\nits appropriate artistic presentment with the substantive and directive\nprinciple running through all the images therein.\n\nWe found at the commencement of our inquiry with reference to the\norigins of art that in the Eastern world Spirit was not as yet\nindependently free. It still sought that which it conceived to be the\nAbsolute in the domain of Nature, and apprehended the natural as itself\nessentially Divine. At a further stage the outlook of classical art\nset before itself the vision of the Greek Pantheon as unconstrained\nand inspired beings, but still in all essential features formed as our\nhumanity, as individuals charged with a positive physical process[314].\nFinally it was romantic art which first permitted Spirit to penetrate\nthe depths of its own world, in contrast to which flesh, the external\nreality and frame of this world generally, albeit the fact that the\nspiritual and absolute could alone manifest itself in this world, in\nthe first instance was divested of all claim to reality[315], but for\nall that afterwards asserted such a positive claim with increasing\nstrength and urgency.\n\n(_\u03b1_) These distinctive views of the world process constitute religion,\nthe substantive Spirit or genius of peoples and eras; they not merely\ninfluence art, but are threads of life which permeate every other\ndomain or province of the living present to which they belong. As\nevery man, in every sphere of activity, whether it be on the field of\npolitics, religion, art, or science, is a child of his own age, and\nreceives the task to elaborate the essential content and consequently\nthe inevitable plastic form of that age, so, too, the aim that\ndetermines the content of art is no other than that of finding in its\nown medium and resources some adequate expression for the spirit of a\nnation. So long as the artist is in immediate identity and unshaken\nfaith inextricably one with the determinate content of such a view of\nthe world and the religion where it culminates, to that extent this\ncontent and the mode of its presentation will call forth his most\n_serious_ powers; in other words this content remains for him the\ninfinite substance and truth of his own consciousness, a content,\nwith which he lives, down to the inmost recesses of his spiritual\nnature, in original unity; and, moreover, the embodied presence in\nwhich he reveals the same is for him as such an artist[316] the final,\nnecessary, and highest type of such a form, namely that of bringing\nbefore the aesthetic sense the absolute being[317] and the ideal\nsignificance[318] of the subject-matter of his art. It is through\nthat aspect of his material which is no other than his own immanent\nsubstance[319] that he finds that which binds him to the specific\nmode of his exposition. For the material, and with it the form that\nappertains to it, carries the artist directly into himself[320], as\nbeing the real essence of his determinate being, which he does not\nimagine but rather actually is, and consequently has only to make this\nessential part of him an objective fact to himself, to conceive and\nelaborate such in a vital form from his own resources. Only under such\nconditions is the enthusiasm of the artist fully awakened for either\nthe content or manifestation of his art; only thus his creations become\nno mere product of caprice, but spring up within him, out of him,\nout of this living field of his substance, this spiritual capital,\nwhose content never ceases to be active, until, through the efforts\nof the master, it has attained a defined form adequate to its own\nideal notion. When, however, we of to-day would seek to make a Greek\ngod or, as our own Protestants try to do, a Virgin Mary the object of\na piece of sculpture or a picture, it is impossible for us to treat\nsuch a material with entire seriousness. It is the faith of our inmost\nheart which fails us here, albeit even in ages of absolute belief the\nartist was by no means necessarily what is commonly understood as a\npious mart, any more than at any time artists generally come in an\nexceptional sense under that category. The demand is rather simply\nthis that in the view of the artist his content should be no other\nthan the substantive significance, the most spiritual truth of its\nown conscious life, and that it should unfold the necessary laws of\nits mode of presentation. For an artist is, in his creative activity,\na child of Nature; his ability is in one aspect a talent he receives\nfrom _her._ His method of working is not the pure activity of rational\napprehension, which places itself in direct opposition to its material,\nand unites with it in the medium of free thoughts and pure thinking.\nRather, as one not yet released from the natural aspect, it[321]\ncoalesces immediately with the object, in full faith, and is identical\nwith it heart and soul. The artistic personality reposes frankly in the\nobject, the work of art proceeds in like manner absolutely from the\nunimpaired spiritual depth and power of genius; the product is _ferme_,\nunwavering, and its entire intensive effect preserved. And this it is\nwhich supplies the fundamental condition of the final demand that Art\nbe presented us in its flawless totality.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The situation, however, has entirely changed in view of the\nposition we have been forced to indicate as that occupied by Art in\nthis its final stage of evolution. We have, however, no reason to\nregard this simply as a misfortune which the chance of events has\nmade inevitable, one, that is to say, by which art has been overtaken\nthrough the pressure of the times, the prosaic outlook and the dearth\nof genuine interests. Rather it is the realization and progress of art\nitself, which, by envisaging for present life the material in which\nit actually dwells, itself materially assists on this very path, in\neach step of its advance, to make itself free of the content that\nis presented. In the very fact that we have an object set before\nour ocular or spiritual vision, whether it be by Art or the medium\nof Thought, with a completeness which practically exhausts it, so\nthat we have emptied it, and nothing further remains for our eyes to\ndiscover or our souls to explore, in that alone the vital interest\ndisappears. Our interest only continues where our faculties are kept\nfresh and alive. Spirit only concerns itself actively with objects so\nlong as there is still a mystery unsolved, a something unrevealed.\nAnd this is so so long as the material remains identical with our\nown substance. A time comes, however, when Art has displayed, in all\ntheir many aspects, these fundamental views of the world, which are\ninvolved in its own notion, no less than every province of the content\nthat is bound up with such world-views: when that time arrives such\nart is necessarily cast loose of that which has been its previous\nspecific content for any particular people or age; in such a case the\nrenewed craving for material to work upon only fully awakes when it\nis accepted as inevitable that we must first bid farewell to all that\nits activity has previously substantiated: just as in Greece, for\nexample, Aristophanes opposed a resolute face to his age, and Lucian to\nthe entire historical Past of his country; or in Italy and Spain, in\nthe decline of the Middle Ages, both Ariosto and Cervantes opened the\nattack on Chivalry.\n\nIn opposition to the age, then, in which the artist, by virtue of\nthe concrete content of his nationality and times, stands within\na definite outlook upon the world and its modes of embodiment, we\nbecome aware of a point of view diametrically antagonistic, which, so\nfar as its complete enunciation is concerned, has only in the most\nmodern times received its due significance. It is only in our own days\nthat we find the artist no less than the man of science among pretty\nnearly all civilized nations, has mastered the cultivation of his\nreflective faculty, the art of criticism, and among us Germans the\nabsolute freedom of thought, and has made this critical apparatus,\nboth relatively to the material and the form of its production, having\nalready run through all the necessary phases or types of romantic art,\na kind of _tabula rasa._[322] The specific mode of association for any\nparticular context, and a manner of presentment exclusively pertinent\nto that and no other material, are things which the artist of to-day\nlooks upon as obsolete. Art has become a free instrument which is\nqualified to exercise itself relatively to every content, no matter\nwhat kind it may be, agreeably to the principles or criteria of the\nartist's own peculiar craftsmanship. The artist stands superior to all\nspecific modes and conformations, however much hallowed in the usage,\nand moves forward free and independent, untrammelled by either form or\npresentment such as previously have brought before man's vision and\nmind the one holy and eternal substance. No content, no form is any\nlonger identical directly with the inmost soul of the artist[323],\nhis nature, his unaware[324] and substantive essence; every material\nhe may treat with indifference, if he only keep true to the formal\nprinciple that he make his work consonant with beauty and a really\nartistic execution. There is, in short, no material nowadays which we\ncan place on its own independent merits as superior to this law of\nrelativity; and even if there is one thus sublimely placed beyond it\nthere is at least no absolute necessity that it should be the object\nof _artistic_ presentation. For these reasons the artist is situated\nrelatively to the content of his work much as the dramatist who places\nbefore us and develops other and alien characters. It is quite true\nthat even our poet of to-day interposes the atmosphere of his genius\nwithin his delineations, and the warp that he weaves is in fact that\nof his own substance; but this only applies to what is universal there\nor wholly accidental. The closer traits of individualization are not\nhis own, but rather he makes use of in this respect his stores of\nimages, modes of metaphor, earlier types of art, which by themselves he\ndoes not care for, and whose significance is exclusively dependent on\nthe fact that they turn out to be the most suitable for this or that\nmatter in hand. In most of the arts, and particularly in the plastic\ntypes, the subject-matter is, apart from this, supplied from outside\nto the artist. He works to order, and when occupied with whatever\ntales, scenes, and portraits thus come in his way, whether sacred or\nprofane, has merely to look to it that he can make something out of\nthem. For, however much he leaves the impress of his genius on a given\ncontent, it remains throughout for all that a material which is not\nitself directly the substance of his own conscious life. Nor is it of\nany real assistance to him, that he further appropriates, so to speak,\nwith his soul and substance views of the world that belong to the Past,\nin other words, tries to root himself in one of such, and, let us say,\nturns Roman Catholic, as not a few have done in recent times for Art's\nsake, in order to give their soul some secure foundation, and enable\nthe definite lines of their artistic product to become themselves\nsomething which shall appear to have an independently valid growth. It\nis not a prime condition of the artistic state that the artist should\ncome completely to terms with his own soul, or should be obliged to\nlook after his own salvation. What is important is that his soul in\nits greatness and freedom should from the first, before it thinks of\ncreating, both know and possess that whereof it is, should stand fast\nby it and reliant within it; and, above all, is it indispensable that\nthe spirit and mind of the great artist of to-day should have a liberal\neducation, one in which every kind of superstition and belief which\nremains limited to circumscribed forms of outlook and presentment,\nshould receive their proper subordination as merely aspects or phasal\nmoments of a larger process; aspects which the free human spirit has\nalready mastered when it once for all sees that they can furnish\nit with no conditions of exposition and creative effort which are,\nindependently for their own sake, sacrosanct; and only ascribes to them\nvalue in virtue of the loftier content, which itself, as creator and\nworker, he reposes in them, making them thus what they ought to be[325].\n\nIt is somewhat in this way nowadays that any and every form and\nmaterial may prove of service to and under the control of the artist\nwhose executive talents and genius have been liberated in their\nindependence from the former limitation to a specific mode of artistic\nwork.\n\n(_\u03b3_) If we ask, then, in conclusion what are the content and the\nmodes which may be considered _peculiar_ to the present sphere of our\ninquiry, the result will be approximately as follows.\n\nThe universal types of art were pre-eminently related to the absolute\ntruth to which Art attains, and they discovered the source of their\ndifferentiation in the specific grasp they respectively supplied of\nthat which passed for the Absolute in the human consciousness, and\nwhich itself carried the principle of its manner of embodiment. In\nthis respect we have already seen in symbolism Nature's significances\npass before us as content, and her facts and human personification as\nthe mode of presentation; similarly in the classical type, we have\npassed in review spiritual individuality, but as bodily presence which\ncarried no memory with it[326], and over which the abstract necessity\nof Fate stood paramount. In the romantic the intellectual being of the\npersonal consciousness was asserted inherent in its own substance, and\nfor the inmost content of which the external form remained entirely\ncontingent. In this concluding type as in the earlier ones the object\nof art was the Divine in its explicitly unfolded nature. This Divine\nhad however to make itself an object, to define itself, and in the\nprocess to pass from its own immediate substance to the secular content\nof the personal consciousness. In the first instance the infinite\nessence of personality was reposed in honour, love, and fidelity;\nafter that in the particular individuality, the specific character\nwhich happened to coalesce with the particular mode of human life in\nquestion. This coalescence, together with the specific limitation of\ncontent appropriate to such, was finally put an end to by humour,\nwhich proved itself capable of dissolving or making pliable to its\npurpose any or every line of stable definition, and by so doing made\nit possible for art to transcend its own limitations. In this passing\naway of Art beyond itself, however, Art is quite as truly the return\nof man upon himself, a descent into his own soul-depths, by which\nprocess art strips off from itself every secure barrier set up by a\ndeterminate range of content and conception, and unfolds within our\ncommon humanity[327] its new holy of holies, in other words the depths\nand heights of the human soul simply, the universal shared of all men\nin joy and suffering, in endeavour, action, and destiny. From this\npoint onwards it is from himself that the artist receives his content,\nis in truth the Spirit of man assigning to himself his own boundaries,\ncontemplating, experiencing and giving utterance to the infinitude of\nhis emotions and situations, a spirit to which nothing is any more\nalien which can possibly emanate as life from the human soul. A\ncontent of this nature is one which cannot persist under the defined\nmodes of art independent and apart from the activity of the artist.\nRather the definition of content and its elaboration is transferred by\nit to the caprice of his invention. But, despite of this, it excludes\nno vital interest, because Art is no longer under constraint to\nrepresent that, and only that, which is completely at home in one of\nits specific grades. Everything is now possible as its subject-matter,\nin which man, on whatever plane of life he may be, possesses either the\nneed or the capacity of making his abode.\n\nConfronted with a material of such a wide range and multiplicity, it is\nabove all of first importance that in respect to the mode of artistic\ntreatment the Spirit that is now active in our present life should\nthroughout declare itself as such. Our modern artist may no doubt join\nthe company of ancients and elders. It is a fine thing to be one of\nthe Homerides, though we stand last of the line; pictures, too, that\nreflect for us once again the atmosphere of romantic art in the Middle\nAges will have a worth of their own. But this universal sufficiency,\ndepth, and unique suitability of a given material such as we above\ndescribed is another thing altogether, and equally so its mode of\npresentation. Neither Homer, Sophocles, Dante, Ariosto, nor Shakespeare\ncan reappear in our times. What has been sung so greatly, what has been\nexpressed with such freedom, has been sung and expressed once for all.\nOnly the Present blows fresh; all else is faded and more faded. In the\nmatter of history we must fain make it something of a reproach to the\nFrench, and we may add to it a criticism on the score of beauty, that\nthey have presented on their stage Greek and Roman heroes, Chinese, and\nPeruvians as so many French princes and princesses, and moreover have\ngiven them the motives and views peculiar to the age of Louis XIV or\nLouis XV. Yet, after all, had these very motives and opinions only been\nintrinsically deeper and more beautiful than they are we should have\nhad little fault to find in the fact that the Past is here translated\ninto Art's present life. On the contrary all material whatsoever, it\nmatters not from what age or nation it hails, only retains its truth\nfor art as part of this vital and actual Present, in which it floods\nthe human heart with the reflected image of its own life, and brings\ntruth home to man's senses and mind. It is just this revelation and\nrenewed activity of that humanity which is immortal in all its varied\nsignificance and infinite reconstruction, which, in this its receptacle\nof human situations and emotions, forms the possible no less than the\nabsolute content of the art of our time.\n\nIf we now take a glance back, having established in a general way the\ncontent which distinguishes the subject-matter of this portion of\nour inquiry, at that which we finally considered to be the modes of\nromantic art's dissolution, we may recall the fact that we then defined\nthem under a term applicable to all, as the falling to pieces of Art,\na process which, in one of its aspects, was due to an imitation of the\nobjects of Nature in all the detail of their contingent appearance,\nand in another was referable to humour, that unfettered activity of\nthe individual soul in all its capricious mastery. In conclusion,\nwe may still draw attention to a further way of fixing on our minds\nthat _terminus_ of romantic art without prejudice to our previous\nremarks upon it. In other words, just as in our advance from symbolism\nto classical art, we considered the transitional forms of image,\nsimile, and epigram, we have also here in romantic art a form somewhat\nsimilar worthy of attention. In those previous modes of conception the\nimportant thing was the falling asunder of the spiritual significance\nand the external form, a severation which in part was cancelled by\nthe activity of the artist's own mind, and in the exceptional case\nof the epigram could possibly be converted into complete identity.\nRomantic art was from the beginning the profounder disunion of that\ninmost soul-life which finds its satisfaction in its own wealth, which,\nmoreover, for the reason that generally the objective world does not\ncompletely satisfy the demand of Spirit essentially as such, persisted\nin its discordance with or indifference to it. This opposition in the\nevolution of romantic art finally led us perforce to the point where\nwe found that the interest was exclusively centered on the contingent\naspects of externality, or the equally capricious activity of the soul.\nWhen, however, this exclusive attention to either side, whether it be\nthe externality or purely personal presentment, agreeably to the main\nprinciple of romantic art, is carried so far that it becomes a real\npenetration of the soul within the object, and the aspect of humour in\nits relation to the object and its embodiment within the sphere of its\nown individual reaction[328] assumes a real importance, in that case\nwe are face to face with what is a coalescence[329] with the object,\nand is nothing less than an _objective_ humour. Such a coalescence,\nhowever, can only be of limited range, and find expression merely, say,\nwithin a lyric, or at most in but a portion of a larger composition.\nFor if its boundaries widened, and it was carried throughout the\nobject-matter in question, it would necessarily become identical\nwith the action and event, become, in short, a completely objective\nrepresentation. What we have to consider here is rather a sensitive\nself-abandonment of the artist's soul in his object, which no doubt is\nunfolded in some kind of process, but nevertheless remains a movement\nof the imagination and heart indicative rather of _individual_ genius;\na caprice in some sort, and yet not entirely capricious or intentional,\nbut rather a sympathetic expansion of the artist's genius, which\ndevotes itself solely to its subject-matter, and makes it exclusively\nits interest and content.\n\nWe may usefully compare with such a spirit the last blooms of the\nancient Greek epigram, in which this type appears in its first and\nsimplest features. The mode we have here in our mind is in the first\ninstance apparent when the reference to the object is not a mere\nstatement of fact, is not merely an inscription or transcript which\nstates what the object is, but is associated with a deeper emotion,\na sleight of witticism, an ingenious fancy, or a real flash of\nimaginative power, any or all of which through their poetical grasp\ngive life to and expand the minutest detail. Poems of this description,\nit matters little what their subject-matter may be, whether a tree, a\nmill-stream, spring, dead things or alive, are of infinite variety and\nmay be found in the literature of all nations. They are, however, a\nsubordinate grade of poetry, and very readily come off halting. For at\nleast in a country of cultivated speech and reflection there are few\nobjects and conditions, indeed, which will not offer some further link\nof association to every man. And just as the average man thinks himself\nqualified to write a letter he will rate his capacity to express such\nideas. One is very easily tired of a universal spirit of sing-song such\nas this, even though a stray novelty of touch may be here and there\nthrown in. The importance of such a class of composition, therefore,\ndepends almost entirely on the question how far the artist's soul,\nwith its full intensity of life, and with a spiritual and intellectual\nwealth that is both profound and extensive, has without reserve entered\nvitally into such conditions, situations, and so forth; has made a home\nthere, and from the object in question created something unseen before,\nsomething beautiful, something essentially worth our attention.\n\nTo this end the Persians and Arabians pre-eminently in the oriental\nsplendour of their images, in the unfettered enjoyment of their\nimagination, which enters into the being of its subject-matter in the\npurest spirit of contemplation, offer, even for present times and our\nown intensity of spiritual penetration, a glorious exemplar. Both the\nSpaniards and Italians, too, have done excellent things in the same\ndirection. It is true that Klopstock says of Petrarch:\n\n/$\n                   --Laura besang Petrarca in Liedern,\n     Zwar dem Bewunderer sch\u00f6n, aber dem Liebenden nicht[330].\n$/\n\nbut Klopstock's own love-odes are themselves full of moral reflections,\ntroubled yearning and passion that is for ever writhing after\nimmortality of happiness. What we admire most in Petrarch is the\nfree atmosphere of essentially noble emotion, which, however much it\nexpresses the longing for the beloved, can none the less repose on its\nown heart. For this kind of longing, indeed sensual desire itself, is\nfar from being absent in the range of the art we now are considering,\nwhen the subject is restricted to wine and love, the tavern and the\nglass; the excessive voluptuousness of the images of Persian writers\nthemselves are in fact an illustration of this; but in this case the\nimagination, in the interest it possesses for the intelligence, removes\nthe object entirely from the sphere of desire which has a practical\naim. It possesses an interest merely in the realm of its own exuberant\nactivity, finding its delight freely in its own countless freaks and\nfancies, and making joys and griefs alike the subject of its sport\nAmong our modern poets the two who preeminently combine a similar\nbuoyancy of genius with a more intimate and spiritually searching depth\nof imagination are Goethe in his \"West\u00f6stlicher Divan\" and R\u00fcckert.\nThe essential contrast between Goethe's poetry in the \"Divan\" and his\nmore early efforts is quite remarkable. In his \"Welcome and Farewell,\"\nfor instance, the language and description are no doubt fine in\ntheir way, true feeling is there. In other respects the situation is\ncommonplace, the climax is poor, and of imagination in the full and\nfree sense there is no further trace. The poem in the \"Divan\" entitled\n\"Recovery\"[331] is composed in a totally different spirit. Love is here\nwholly absorbed in the imagination, and the movement, happiness, and\nbliss of the latter are throughout predominant. And, to speak generally\nof artistic productions of this class, we may affirm that we find\nin them no personal craving, no indications of enamourment, no mere\ndesire, but a pure delight in the objects delineated, an inexhaustible\nself-absorption of imagination, an innocent play, a free surrender to\nthe coquettish humours even of rhyme and ingenious versification; and\nwithal an intense jubilation of the soul in its own free movement, a\nspirit, which, by means of this very exhilaration induced by artistic\nform[332] lifts the soul high above all its painful perplexity into the\nordered limits of the real.\n\nAnd here we must close our consideration of the particular types\naccording to which the Ideal of art throughout its process is\nself-differentiated. We have made these several modes the subject of\na more extensive inquiry, with a view to unfolding the content of the\nsame, a content from which the proper modes of artistic presentment\nare themselves also deducible. For in Art, too, as in all other human\nproduction, it is the content which is finally decisive. In fact Art,\nif we consider the true notion of it, has one and only one supreme\nfunction. It has to set forth in adequate form, within the grasp of our\nactual senses, what is itself essential content; and the Philosophy of\nArt should consequently regard it as its main business to comprehend\nin Thought what this abundance of content and its beautiful mode of\nmanifestation verily is.\n\n[Footnote 256: _Subjektivit\u00e4t._]\n\n[Footnote 257: _F\u00fcr andere_, that is for other spiritual beings than\nthe absolute Spirit as such.]\n\n[Footnote 258: _Die Innigkeit._]\n\n[Footnote 259: _Aus dem Innern exzeugten._]\n\n[Footnote 260: _Sich in sich hineinbildend._ That is by continually\nsupplying new modes to the subjective spiritual content--until we\narrive at the almost purely spiritual mode of music.]\n\n[Footnote 261: _Die innere Aufl\u00f6sung._]\n\n[Footnote 262: The phenomenal world of Nature.]\n\n[Footnote 263: _Die Verwickelungen._]\n\n[Footnote 264: _Die Abentheuerlichkeit._ Hegel means that it is like\nthe result of an adventure--unforeseen rather than \"fantastic.\"]\n\n[Footnote 265: _Ein individuelles Subjekt._]\n\n[Footnote 266: That which supplies its own justification.]\n\n[Footnote 267: Lit., unenclosed, that is open indefinitely and so\nundefined, unsounded.]\n\n[Footnote 268: That is, it is open to extraneous causes that cannot be\npredicted from the mere essential notion of them.]\n\n[Footnote 269: I presume this is the meaning of the expression _das\nAusserg\u00f6ttliche_ and _das partikul\u00e4r Menschliche._]\n\n[Footnote 270: _Pralle_--stiff, metallic in its steeply rigidity.]\n\n[Footnote 271: Act I, sc. 5.]\n\n[Footnote 272: _Miserabilit\u00e4t._ One of Hegel's own coinage.]\n\n[Footnote 273: An unknown work to me.]\n\n[Footnote 274: _Ein inneres Werden._]\n\n[Footnote 275: One is reminded of the Mohammedan fatalism. It is Allah.]\n\n[Footnote 276: _In einfacher Gedrungenheit._ Hegel means that it is\ntightly self-sealed, that and nothing more.]\n\n[Footnote 277: _Hineingelegtseyn._ The reference of the whole being to\none object.]\n\n[Footnote 278: This was the representation which took place in Berlin\nin 1820, with Mademoiselle Erelinger as Juliet.]\n\n[Footnote 279: _List_, usually in depreciatory sense, here otherwise.]\n\n[Footnote 280: With the exception, of course, of her presumed father\nProspero.]\n\n[Footnote 281: That is, a poetry based rather on the reflective faculty\nthan the creative imagination.]\n\n[Footnote 282:\n\n/$\n     \"He saw it plunge, drink boldly,\n     Then sink in sea-depths lost;\n     And what his eyes saw loosed him,\n     No drop the king drank more.\"\n$/\n]\n\n[Footnote 283: _Lebensl\u00e4ufe in aufsteigender Linie._]\n\n[Footnote 284: _In sich totales, unbeschr\u00e4nktes Gem\u00fcth._ The\nexpressions would appear to contradict one another, but the emphasis is\non the unity of a whole which is itself not fully defined.]\n\n[Footnote 285: It is not so much a third type as a way of looking at\nthe previous ones.]\n\n[Footnote 286: It is contingent, of course, to the individual. Hegel\ndoes not mean that it is without causality.]\n\n[Footnote 287: The sphere of objective fact.]\n\n[Footnote 288: From Nature, that is.]\n\n[Footnote 289: _Ihres inneren Verlaufs._ I suppose Hegel means\naction under the aspect in which it forms a part of the individual\ndevelopment--regarded in its relation to will and consciousness.]\n\n[Footnote 290: That is, the Christian community.]\n\n[Footnote 291: _Den Menschen als Menschheit_, that is in his generally\nsecular aspect.]\n\n[Footnote 292: I presume this is the sense of _gebrochen_ here. But\nlower down it would mean apparently _discordant._]\n\n[Footnote 293: By \"fantastic\" Hegel seems to me to mean that which is\nbased on a fancy or imagination that is wholly personal to the artist,\nand so adventitious in its results.]\n\n[Footnote 294: _Sicheres Gem\u00fcth_--\"consistent\" both in its literal and\nmetaphorical senses--one that holds together and is thus self-assured.]\n\n[Footnote 295: _Das Romanhafte._ I cannot think of an English\nexpression which exactly corresponds.]\n\n[Footnote 296: _Sich schrauben_, like the winding smoke from a\nbottle--the corkscrew---ironical of course.]\n\n[Footnote 297: One of the finest illustrations of such a universality\nof interest may be found in Ruskin's description of Tintoret's\n\"Adoration of the Magi.\"]\n\n[Footnote 298: _Genialit\u00e4t_ and _genial_ mean a good deal more than our\nEnglish words geniality and genial--they refer directly to genius.]\n\n[Footnote 299: _Das in sich Nothwendige._ The reference is mainly to\nthe stricter principles of classical art.]\n\n[Footnote 300: _Nach ihrer ganzen Inneren._]\n\n[Footnote 301: Lit., \"Which possesses for its substantial content\n(_Substanz_) the integrity (_Rechtschaffenheit_), world-wisdom [here I\nthink no more is meant than \"good sense\"] and the morale of daily life\n(_des Tages_).\"]\n\n[Footnote 302: Lit., \"That the material, so far as art appropriates it,\nbe immanent and at home in that reality.\" _Immanent_ must I think refer\nback to _die vorliegende Werklichkeit._]\n\n[Footnote 303: Vol. I, pp. 229, 230.]\n\n[Footnote 304: That is it has no interest _qu\u00e2_ a natural object.]\n\n[Footnote 305: _Scheinen_ must mean here natural rather than artistic\nappearance. Natural appearance is not _necessarily_ beautiful.]\n\n[Footnote 306: _Des sick in sich vertiefenden Scheinens._ It is\nself-deepening in proportion to the _feiner Sinn_ below mentioned.]\n\n[Footnote 307: I think this is the meaning of the expression _das\nPhysikalische der Farbe_--not so much the material constituents of\ncolour as the effect of colour on physical substances. But either\ninterpretation makes sense.]\n\n[Footnote 308: An artist unknown to me.]\n\n[Footnote 309: _Gem\u00fcth_. I think Hegel uses the word here in the\nnarrower sense rather than \"soul\" generally.]\n\n[Footnote 310: _Der subjektive Humor._]\n\n[Footnote 311: Lit., \"And arranges them side by side in an alien\norder.\" That is, under a principle of co-ordination which does not lie\nin the subject-matter.]\n\n[Footnote 312: _Unscheinbares Fortschlendern._]\n\n[Footnote 313: _Die Subjektivit\u00e4t des Kunstlers._ The expression\nas used here and below implies, of course, not so much the formal\npersonality or character as the individual spirit and its resources.]\n\n[Footnote 314: I presume this is the meaning of _von einem affirmativen\nMomente._]\n\n[Footnote 315: Lit., \"Was at first posited as naught.\"]\n\n[Footnote 316: That is, as an artist for whom it is _wahrhafter Ernst._]\n\n[Footnote 317: _Das Absolute_ here is, I think, referable to the\nsubject-matter of art rather than to be taken as \"the Absolute\" simply.]\n\n[Footnote 318: _Die Seele._ Perhaps \"vital principle\" would be better.]\n\n[Footnote 319: That is, Spirit or mind.]\n\n[Footnote 320: There is an uncorrected misprint here, _der_ should be\n_den_ and _tragen_ would be an improvement on _tr\u00e4gt._]\n\n[Footnote 321: I am not certain whether the subject is here the artist\nhimself, or his mode of working. The context would suggest the latter,\nthe better sense the former.]\n\n[Footnote 322: Reflection has destroyed the _necessity_ of any\nparticular form.]\n\n[Footnote 323: That is the life of Spirit. _Das Heilige und Ewige._]\n\n[Footnote 324: _Bewusstlosen._ His spiritual nature in its unexplored\nuniversality is, I presume, the sense.]\n\n[Footnote 325: _Als ihnen gem\u00e4ss._ As adequate to their completely\nexplicit nature.]\n\n[Footnote 326: _Aber als leibliche unerinnerte Gegenwart._ I am not\nsure that I know precisely the sense here, unless it amounts to\nthis that the Greek gods were without an historical memory. Their\nimmortality swallowed up in its repose the sense of beings in time, and\nassumed to be in human bodily shape.]\n\n[Footnote 327: _Zu ihrem neuen Heiligen den Humanus macht_, an uncommon\nphrase.]\n\n[Footnote 328: _Innerhalt seines subjektiven Reflexes._ That is, the\nsynthetic activity of humour's reflection.]\n\n[Footnote 329: _Verinnigung_, a stronger word than _Vereinigung._]\n\n[Footnote 330: \"Petrarch sang songs of his Laura. To him who wonders at\nbeautiful songs they are beautiful, to the lover they are not so.\"]\n\n[Footnote 331: \"_Wiederfinden_.\"]\n\n[Footnote 332: I am not quite sure that _die Heiterkeit des Gestaltens_\ndoes not mean \"the buoyancy of the created form.\"]\n\n\nEND OF VOL. II","title":"The Philosophy of Fine Art, volume 2 (of 4): Hegel's Aesthetik","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":156943}