ÆSTHETIC
As science of expression and general linguistic
BY
BENEDETTO CROCE
translated, from the Italian by
DOUGLAS AINSLIE
THE NOONDAY PRESS
A division of
FARRAR, STRAUS, AND COMPANY
1920
THE
ÆSTHETIC
IS DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR
TO THE MEMORY OF HIS PARENTS
PASQUALE AND LUISA SIPARI
AND OF HIS SISTER
MARIA
Benedetto Croce's Philosophy of the Spirit, in the English translation by Douglas Ainslie, consists of 4 volumes (which can be read separately):
1. Aesthetic as science of expression and general linguistic. (This is the second augmented edition. A first ed. is also available at Project Gutenberg.)
2. Philosophy of the practical: economic and ethic. (In preparation)
3. Logic as the science of the pure concept.
4. Theory and history of historiography. (In preparation)
Transcriber's note.
[CONTENTS]
EXTRACT FROM INTRODUCTION xix
NOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR xxv
AUTHOR'S PREFACE xxvii
I
THEORY OF ÆSTHETIC
I [1]
INTUITION AND EXPRESSION
Intuitive knowledge—Its independence with respect to intellectual knowledge—Intuition and perception—Intuition and the concepts of space and time—Intuition and sensation—Intuition and association—Intuition and representation—Intuition and expression—Illusion as to their difference—Identity of intuition and expression
II [12]
INTUITION AND ART
Corollaries and explanations—Identity of art and intuitive knowledge—No specific difference—No difference of intensity—The difference is extensive and empirical—Artistic genius—Content and form in Æsthetic—Criticism of the imitation of nature and of the artistic illusion—Criticism of art conceived as a fact of feeling, not a theoretical fact—Æsthetic appearance, and feeling—Criticism of the theory of æsthetic senses—Unity and indivisibility of the work of art—Art as liberator
III [22]
ART AND PHILOSOPHY
Inseparability of intellectual from intuitive knowledge—Criticism of the negations of this thesis—Art and science—Content and form: another meaning—Prose and poetry—The relation of first and second degree—Non-existence of other forms of cognition—Historicity—Its identity with and difference from art—Historical criticism—Historical scepticism—Philosophy as perfect science. The so-called natural sciences, and their limits—The phenomenon and the noumenon
IV [32]
HISTORICISM AND INTELLECTUALISM IN ÆSTHETIC
Criticism of the probable and of naturalism—Criticism of ideas in art, of theses in art, and of the typical—Criticism of the symbol and of the allegory—Criticism of the theory of artistic and literary kinds—Errors derived from this theory in judgements on art—Empirical sense of the divisions of kinds
V [39]
ANALOGOUS ERRORS IN THE THEORY OF HISTORY AND IN LOGIC
Criticism of the philosophy of History—Æsthetic intrusions into Logic—Logic in its essence—Distinction between logical and non-logical judgements—Syllogistic—Logical falsehood and æsthetic truth—Reformed logic—Note to the fourth Italian edition
VI [47]
THE THEORETIC ACTIVITY AND THE PRACTICAL ACTIVITY
The will—The will as an ulterior stage in respect to knowledge—Objections and explanations—Criticism of practical judgements or judgements of value—Exclusion of the practical from the æsthetic—Criticism of the theory of the end of art and of the choice of content—Practical innocence of art—Independence of art—Criticism of the saying: the style is the man—Criticism of the concept of sincerity in art
VII [55]
ANALOGY BETWEEN THE THEORETIC AND THE PRACTICAL
The two forms of the practical activity—The economically useful—Distinction between the useful and the technical—Distinction of the useful from the egoistic—Economic will and moral will—Pure economicity—The economic side of morality—The merely economical and the error of the morally indifferent—Criticism of utilitarianism and the reform of Ethics and of Economics—Phenomenon and noumenon in practical activity
VIII [61]
EXCLUSION OF OTHER SPIRITUAL FORMS
The system of the spirit—The forms of genius—Non-existence of a fifth form of activity—Law; sociability—Religion—Metaphysic—Mental imagination and the intuitive intellect—Mystical Æsthetic—Mortality and immortality of art
IX [67]
INDIVISIBILITY OF EXPRESSION INTO MODES OR DEGREES AND CRITICISM OF RHETORIC
The characters of art—Non-existence of modes of expression—Impossibility of translations—Criticism of the rhetorical categories—Empirical sense of the rhetorical categories—Their use as synonyms of the æsthetic fact—Their use to indicate various æsthetic imperfections—Their use in a sense transcending æsthetic, in the service of science—Rhetoric in the schools—The resemblances of expressions—The relative possibility of translations
X [74]
ÆSTHETIC FEELINGS AND THE DISTINCTION BETWEEN THE BEAUTIFUL AND THE UGLY
Various significations of the word feeling—Feeling as activity —Identification of feeling with economic activity—Criticism of hedonism—Feeling as a concomitant of every form of activity —Meaning of certain ordinary distinctions of feelings—Value and disvalue: the contraries and their union—The beautiful as the value of expression, or expression without qualification—The ugly, and the elements of beauty which compose it—Illusion that there exist expressions neither beautiful nor ugly—True æsthetic feelings and concomitant and accidental feelings—Criticism of apparent feelings
XI [82]
CRITICISM OF ÆSTHETIC HEDONISM
Criticism of the beautiful as that which pleases the higher senses—Criticism of the theory of play—Criticism of the theory of sexuality and of triumph—Criticism of the Æsthetic of the sympathetic: meaning in it of content and form—Æsthetic hedonism and moralism—The rigoristic negation, and the pedagogic justification of art—Criticism of pure beauty
XII [87]
THE ÆSTHETIC OF THE SYMPATHETIC AND PSEUDO-ÆSTHETIC CONCEPTS
Pseudo-æsthetic concepts, and the Æsthetic of the sympathetic—Criticism of the theory of the ugly in art and of the overcoming of it—Pseudo-æsthetic concepts belong to Psychology—Impossibility of rigorous definitions of them—Examples: definitions of the sublime, of the comic, of the humorous—Relation between these concepts and æsthetic concepts
XIII [94]
THE "PHYSICALLY BEAUTIFUL" IN NATURE AND IN ART
Æsthetic activity and physical concepts—Expression in the æsthetic sense, and expression in the naturalistic sense—Representations and memory—The production of aids to memory—Physical beauty—Content and form: another meaning—Natural beauty and artificial beauty—Mixed beauty—Writings—Free and non-free beauty—Criticism of non-free beauty—Stimulants of production
XIV [104]
ERRORS ARISING FROM THE CONFUSION BETWEEN PHYSICS AND ÆSTHETIC
Criticism of æsthetic associationism—Criticism of æsthetic Physics—Criticism of the theory of the beauty of the human body—Criticism of the beauty of geometrical figures—Criticism of another aspect of the imitation of nature—Criticism of the theory of the elementary forms of the beautiful—Criticism of the search for the objective conditions of the beautiful—The astrology of Æsthetic
XV [111]
THE ACTIVITY OF EXTERNALIZATION. TECHNIQUE AND THE THEORY OF THE ARTS
The practical activity of externalization—The technique of externalization—Technical theories of the different arts—Criticism of æsthetic theories of particular arts—Criticism of the classification of the arts—Criticism of the theory of the union of the arts—Relation of the activity of externalization to utility and morality
XVI [118]
TASTE AND THE REPRODUCTION OF ART
Æsthetic judgement: its identity with æsthetic reproduction—Impossibility of divergences—Identity of taste and genius—Analogy with other activities—Criticism of æsthetic absolutism (intellectualism) and relativism—Criticism of relative relativism—Objection founded on the variation of the stimulus and of psychic disposition—Criticism of the distinction of signs into natural and conventional—The surmounting of variety—Restorations and historical interpretation
XVII [128]
THE HISTORY OF LITERATURE AND OF ART
Historical criticism in literature and art: its importance—Literary and artistic history: its distinction from historical criticism and from the æsthetic judgement—The method of artistic and literary history—Criticism of the problem of the origin of art—The criterion of progress and history—Non-existence of a single line of progress in artistic and literary history—Errors committed against this law— Other meanings of the word "progress" in relation to Æsthetic
XVIII [140]
CONCLUSION: IDENTITY OF LINGUISTIC AND ÆSTHETIC
Summary of the study—Identity of Linguistic with Æsthetic—Æsthetic formulation of linguistic problems—Nature of language—Origin of language and its development—Relation between Grammar and Logic—Grammatical kinds or parts of speech—The individuality of speech and the classification of languages—Impossibility of a normative Grammar—Didactic organisms—Elementary linguistic facts, or roots—Æsthetic judgement and the model language—Conclusion
II
HISTORY OF ÆSTHETIC
I [155]
ÆSTHETIC IDEAS IN GRÆCO-ROMAN ANTIQUITY
Point of view of this History of Æsthetic—Mistaken tendencies, and attempts towards an Æsthetic, in Græco-Roman antiquity—Origin of the æsthetic problem in Greece—Plato's rigoristic negation—Æsthetic hedonism and moralism—Mystical æsthetic in antiquity—Investigations as to the Beautiful—Distinction between the theory of Art and the theory of the Beautiful—Fusion of the two by Plotinus—The scientific tendency: Aristotle—The concepts of imitation and of imagination after Aristotle: Philostratus—Speculations on language
II [175]
ÆSTHETIC IDEAS IN THE MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE
Middle Ages. Mysticism: Ideas on the Beautiful—The pedagogic theory of art in the Middle Ages—Hints of an Æsthetic in scholastic philosophy—Renaissance: Philography and philosophical and empirical inquiries concerning the Beautiful—The pedagogic theory of art and the Poetics of Aristotle—The "Poetics of the Renaissance"—Dispute concerning the universal and the probable in art—G. Fracastoro—L. Castelvetro—Piccolomini and Pinciano—Fr. Patrizzi (Patricius)
III [189]
FERMENTS OF THOUGHT IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
New words and new observations in the seventeenth century—Wit—Taste—Various meanings of the word taste—Fancy or imagination—Feeling—Tendency to unite these terms—Difficulties and contradictions in their definition—Wit and intellect—Taste and intellectual judgement—The "je ne sais quoi"—Imagination and sensationalism: the corrective of imagination—Feeling and sensationalism
IV [204]
ÆSTHETIC IDEAS OF THE CARTESIAN AND LEIBNITIAN SCHOOLS, AND THE "ÆSTHETIC" OF BAUMGARTEN
Cartesianism and imagination—Crousaz and André—The English: Locke, Shaftesbury, Hutcheson and the Scottish School—Leibniz: "petites perceptions" and confused knowledge—Intellectualism of Leibniz—Speculations on language—J. C. Wolff—Demand for an organon of inferior knowledge—Alexander Baumgarten: his "Æsthetic"—Æsthetic as science of sensory consciousness—Criticism of judgements passed on Baumgarten—Intellectualism of Baumgarten—New names and old meanings
V [220]
GIAMBATTISTA VICO
Vico as inventor of æsthetic science—Poetry and philosophy: imagination and intellect—Poetry and history—Poetry and language—Inductive and formalistic logic—Vico opposed to all former theories of poetry—Vico's judgements of the grammarians and linguists who preceded him—Influence of seventeenth-century writers on Vico—Æsthetic in the Scienza Nuova—Vico's mistakes—Progress still to be achieved
VI [235]
MINOR ÆSTHETIC DOCTRINES OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
The influence of Vico—Italian writers: A. Conti—Quadrio and Zanotti—M. Cesarotti—Bettinelli and Pagano—German disciples of Baumgarten: G. F. Meier—Confusions of Meier—M. Mendelssohn and other followers of Baumgarten—Vogue of Æsthetic—Eberhard and Eschenburg—J. G. Sulzer—K. H. Heydenreich—J. G. Herder—Philosophy of language
VII [257]
OTHER ÆSTHETIC DOCTRINES OF THE SAME PERIOD
Other writers of the eighteenth century: Batteux—The English: W. Hogarth—E. Burke—H. Home—Eclecticism and sensationalism: E. Platner—Fr. Hemsterhuis—Neo-Platonism and mysticism: Winckelmann—Beauty and lack of significance—Winckelmann's contradictions and compromises—A. R. Mengs—G. E. Lessing—Theorists of ideal Beauty—G. Spalletti and the characteristic—Beauty and the characteristic: Hirt, Meyer, Goethe
VIII [272]
IMMANUEL KANT
I. Kant—Kant and Vico—Identity of the concept of Art in Kant and Baumgarten—Kant's "Lectures"—Art in the Critique of Judgment—Imagination in Kant's system—The forms of intuition and the Transcendental Æsthetic—Theory of Beauty distinguished by Kant from that of Art—Mystical features in Kant's theory of Beauty
IX [283]
THE ÆSTHETIC OF IDEALISM: SCHILLER, SCHELLING, SOLGER, HEGEL
The Critique of Judgment and metaphysical idealism—F. Schiller—Relations between Schiller and Kant—The æsthetic sphere as the sphere of Play—Æsthetic education—Vagueness and lack of precision in Schiller's Æsthetic—Schiller's caution and the rashness of the Romanticists—Ideas on Art: J. P. Richter—Romantic Æsthetic and idealistic Æsthetic—J. G. Fichte—Irony: Schlegel, Tieck, Novalis—F. Schelling—Beauty and character—Art and Philosophy—Ideas and the gods: Art and mythology—K. W. Solger—Fancy and imagination—Art, practice and religion—G. W. F. Hegel—Art in the sphere of absolute spirit—Beauty as sensible appearance of the Idea—Æsthetic in metaphysical idealism and Baumgartenism—Mortality and decay of art in Hegel's system
X [304]
SCHOPENHAUER AND HERBART
Æsthetic mysticism in the opponents of idealism—A. Schopenhauer—Ideas as the object of art—Æsthetic catharsis—Signs of a better theory in Schopenhauer—J. F. Herbart—Pure Beauty and relations of form—Art as sum of content and form—Herbart and Kantian thought
XI [312]
FRIEDRICH SCHLEIERMACHER
Æsthetic of content and Æsthetic of form: meaning of the contrast—Friedrich Schleiermacher—Wrong judgements concerning him—Schleiermacher contrasted with his predecessors—Place assigned to Æsthetic in his Ethics—Æsthetic activity as immanent and individual—Artistic truth and intellectual truth—Difference of artistic consciousness from feeling and religion—Dreams and art: inspiration and deliberation—Art and the typical—Independence of art—Art and language—Schleiermacher's defects—Schleiermacher's services to Æsthetic.
XII [324]
THE PHILOSOPHY OF LANGUAGE: HUMBOLDT AND STEINTHAL
Progress of Linguistic—Linguistic speculation at the beginning of the nineteenth century—Wilhelm von Humboldt: relics of intellectualism—Language as activity: internal form—Language and art in Humboldt—II. Steinthal: the linguistic function independent of the logical—Identity of the problems of the origin and the nature of language—Steinthal's mistaken ideas on art: his failure to unite Linguistic and Æsthetic
XIII [334]
MINOR GERMAN ÆSTHETICIANS
Minor æstheticians in the metaphysical school—Krause, Trahndorff, Weisse and others—Fried. Theodor Vischer—Other tendencies—Theory of the Beautiful in nature, and that of the Modifications of Beauty—Development of the first theory: Herder—Schelling, Solger, Hegel—Schleiermacher—Alexander von Humboldt—Vischer's "Æsthetic Physics"—The theory of the Modifications of Beauty: from antiquity to the eighteenth century—Kant and the post-Kantians—Culmination of the development—Double form of the theory: the overcoming of the ugly: Solger, Weisse and others—Passage from abstract to concrete: Vischer—The "legend of Sir Purebeauty"
XIV [350]
ÆSTHETIC IN FRANCE, ENGLAND AND ITALY DURING THE FIRST HALF OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Æsthetic movement in France: Cousin, Jouffroy—English Æsthetic— Italian Æsthetic—Rosmini and Gioberti—Italian Romantics. Dependence of art
XV [358]
FRANCESCO DE SANCTIS
F. de Sanctis: development of his thought—Influence of Hegelism—Unconscious criticism of Hegelism—Criticisms of German Æsthetic—Final rebellion against metaphysical Æsthetic—De Sanctis' own theory—The concept of form—De Sanctis as art-critic—De Sanctis as philosopher
XVI [370]
ÆSTHETIC OF THE EPIGONI
Revival of Herbartian Æsthetic—Robert Zimmermann—Vischer versus Zimmermann—Hermann Lotze—Efforts to reconcile Æsthetic of form and Æsthetic of content—K. Köstlin—Æsthetic of content. M. Schasler —Eduard von Hartmann—Hartmann and the theory of modifications —Metaphysical Æsthetic in France: C. Levêque—In England: J. Ruskin —Æsthetic in Italy—Antonio Tari and his lectures—Æsthesigraphy
XVII [388]
ÆSTHETIC POSITIVISM AND NATURALISM
Positivism and evolutionism—Æsthetic of H. Spencer—Physiologists of Æsthetic: Grant Allen, Helmholtz and others—Method of the natural sciences in Æsthetic—H. Taine's Æsthetic—Taine's metaphysic and moralism—G. T. Fechner: inductive Æsthetic—Experiments—Trivial nature of his ideas on Beauty and Art—Ernst Grosse: speculative Æsthetic and the Science of Art—Sociological Æsthetic—Proudhon—J. M. Guyau—M. Nordau—Naturalism: C. Lombroso—Decline of linguistic—Signs of revival: H. Paul—The linguistic of Wundt
XVIII [404]
ÆSTHETIC PSYCHOLOGISM AND OTHER RECENT TENDENCIES
Neo-criticism and empiricism—Kirchmann—Metaphysic translated into Psychology: Vischer—Siebeck—M. Diez—Psychological tendency. Teodor Lipps—K. Groos—The modifications of the Beautiful in Groos and Lipps—E. Véron and the double form of Æsthetic—L. Tolstoy—F. Nietzsche —An æsthetician of Music: E. Hanslick—Hanslick's concept of form —Æstheticians of the figurative arts: C. Fiedler—Intuition and expression—Narrow limits of these theories—H. Bergson—Attempts to return to Baumgarten: C. Hermann—Eclecticism: B. Bosanquet —Æsthetic of expression: present state 404
XIX [420]
HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF SOME PARTICULAR DOCTRINES
Result of the history of Æsthetic—History of science and history of the scientific criticism of particular errors
I. RHETORIC: OR THE THEORY OF ORNATE FORM. [422]
Rhetoric in the ancient sense—Criticism from moral point of view—Accumulation without system—Its fortunes in the Middle Ages and Renaissance—Criticisms by Vives, Ramus and Patrizzi—Survival into modern times—Modern signification of Rhetoric: theory of literary form—Concept of ornament—Classes of ornament—The concept of the Fitting—The theory of ornament in the Middle Ages and Renaissance—Reductio ad absurdum in the seventeenth century—Polemic concerning the theory of ornament—Du Marsais and metaphor—Psychological interpretation—Romanticism and Rhetoric: present day
II. HISTORY OF ARTISTIC AND LITERARY KINDS [436]
The kinds in antiquity: Aristotle—In the Middle Ages and Renaissance—The doctrine of the three unities—Poetics of the kinds and rules: Scaliger—Lessing—Compromises and extensions—Rebellion against rules in general—G. Bruno, Guarini—Spanish critics—G. B. Marino—G. V. Gravina—Fr. Montani—Critics of the eighteenth century—Romanticism and the "strict kinds": Berchet, V. Hugo—Their persistence in philosophical theories—Fr. Schelling—E. von Hartmann—The kinds in the schools
III. THE THEORY OF THE LIMITS OF THE ARTS [449]
The limits of the arts in Lessing—Arts of space and arts of time—Limits and classifications of the arts in later philosophy: Herder and Kant—Schelling, Solger—Schopenhauer, Herbart—Weisse, Zeising, Vischer—M. Schasler—E. v. Hartmann—The supreme art: Richard Wagner—Lotze's attack on classifications—Contradictions in Lotze—Doubts in Schleiermacher
IV. OTHER PARTICULAR DOCTRINES [459]
The Æsthetic theory of natural beauty—The theory of æsthetic senses—The theory of kinds of style—The theory of grammatical forms or parts of speech—Theory of æsthetic criticism—Distinction between taste and genius—Concept of artistic and literary history—Conclusion
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL APPENDIX [475]
[EXTRACT FROM INTRODUCTION TO THE FIRST ENGLISH EDITION, 1909]
I can lay no claim to having discovered an America, but I do claim to have discovered a Columbus. His name is Benedetto Croce, and he dwells on the shores of the Mediterranean, at Naples, city of the antique Parthenope.
It was at Naples, in the winter of 1907, that I first saw the Philosopher of Æsthetic. Benedetto Croce, although born in the Abruzzi, Province of Aquila (1866), is essentially a Neapolitan, and rarely remains long absent from the city, on the shore of that magical sea where once Ulysses sailed, and where sometimes yet (near Amalfi) we may hear the Syrens sing their song. But more wonderful than the song of any Syren seems to me the Theory of Æsthetic as the Science of Expression, and that is why I have overcome the obstacles that stood between me and the giving of this theory, which in my belief is the truth, to the English-speaking world.
. . . . . . . . . .
The solution of the problem of Æsthetic is not in the gift of the Muses.
This Philosophy of the Spirit is symptomatic of the happy reaction of the twentieth century against the crude materialism of the second half of the nineteenth. It is the spirit which gives to the work of art its value, not this or that method of arrangement, this or that tint or cadence, which can always be copied by skilful plagiarists: not so the spirit of the creator. In England we hear too much of (natural) science, which has usurped the very name of Philosophy. The natural sciences are very well in their place, but discoveries such as aviation are of infinitely less importance to the race than the smallest addition to the philosophy of the spirit. Empirical science, with the collusion of positivism, has stolen the cloak of philosophy and must be made to give it back.
. . . . . . . . . .
Yet though severe, the editor of La Critica is uncompromisingly just, and would never allow personal dislike or jealousy, or any extrinsic consideration, to stand in the way of fair treatment to the writer concerned. Many superficial English critics might benefit considerably by attention to this quality in one who is in other respects also so immeasurably their superior. A good instance of this impartiality is his critique of Schopenhauer, with whose system he is in complete disagreement, yet affords him full credit for what of truth is contained in his voluminous writings.
. . . . . . . . . .
This thoroughness it is which gives such importance to the literary and philosophical criticisms of La Critica. Croce's method is always historical, and his object in approaching any work of art is to classify the spirit of its author, as expressed in that work. There are, he maintains, but two things to be considered in criticizing a book. These are, firstly, what is its peculiarity, in what way is it singular, how is it differentiated from other works? Secondly, what is its degree of purity?—That is, to what extent has its author kept himself free from all considerations alien to the perfection of the work as an expression, as a lyrical intuition? With the answering of these questions Croce is satisfied. He does not care to know if the author keep a motor-car, like Mæterlinck; or prefer to walk on Putney Heath, like Swinburne. This amounts to saying that all works of art must be judged by their own standard. How far has the author succeeded in doing what he intended?
. . . . . . . . . .
As regards Croce's general philosophical position, it is important to understand that he is not a Hegelian, in the sense of being a close follower of that philosopher. One of his last works is that in which he deals in a masterly manner with the philosophy of Hegel. The title may be translated, "What is living and what is dead of the philosophy of Hegel." Here he explains to us the Hegelian system more clearly than that wondrous edifice was ever before explained, and we realize at the same time that Croce is quite as independent of Hegel as of Kant, of Vico as of Spinoza. Of course he has made use of the best of Hegel, just as every thinker makes use of his predecessors and is in his turn made use of by those that follow him. But it is incorrect to accuse of Hegelianism the author of an anti-hegelian Æsthetic, of a Logic where Hegel is only half accepted, and of a Philosophy of the Practical which contains hardly a trace of Hegel. I give an instance. If the great conquest of Hegel be the dialectic of opposites, his great mistake lies in the confusion of opposites with things which are distinct but not opposite. If, says Croce, we take as an example the application of the Hegelian triad that formulates becoming (affirmation, negation and synthesis), we find it applicable for those opposites which are true and false, good and evil, being and not-being, but not applicable to things which are distinct but not opposite, such as art and philosophy, beauty and truth, the useful and the moral. These confusions led Hegel to talk of the death of art, to conceive as possible a Philosophy of History, and to the application of the natural sciences to the absurd task of constructing a Philosophy of Nature. Croce has cleared away these difficulties by showing that if from the meeting of opposites must arise a superior synthesis, such a synthesis cannot arise from things which are distinct but not opposite, since the former are connected together as superior and inferior, and the inferior can exist without the superior, but not vice versa. Thus we see how philosophy cannot exist without art, while art, occupying the lower place, can and does exist without philosophy. This brief example reveals Croce's independence in dealing with Hegelian problems.
I know of no philosopher more generous than Croce in praise and elucidation of other workers in the same field, past and present. For instance, and apart from Hegel, Kant has to thank him for drawing attention to the marvellous excellence of the Critique of Judgment, generally neglected in favour of the Critiques of Pure Reason and of Practical Judgment; Baumgarten for drawing the attention of the world to his obscure name and for reprinting his Latin thesis in which the word Æsthetic occurs for the first time; and Schleiermacher for the tributes paid to his neglected genius in the History of Æsthetic. La Critica, too, is full of generous appreciation of contemporaries by Croce and by that profound thinker, Gentile.
. . . . . . . . . .
There can be no doubt of the great value of Croce's work as an educative influence, and if we are to judge of a philosophical system by its action on others, then we must place the Philosophy of the Spirit very high. It may be said with perfect truth that since the death of the poet Carducci there has been no influence in Italy to compare with that of Benedetto Croce.
. . . . . . . . . .
Of the popularity that his system and teaching have already attained we may judge by the fact that the Æsthetic, despite the difficulty of the subject, is already in its third edition in Italy, where, owing to its influence, philosophy sells better than fiction; while the French and Germans, not to mention the Czechs, have long had translations of the earlier editions. His Logic is on the point of appearing in its second edition, and I have no doubt that the Philosophy of the Practical will eventually equal these works in popularity. The importance and value of Italian thought have been too long neglected in Great Britain. Where, as in Benedetto Croce, we get the clarity of vision of the Latin, joined to the thoroughness and erudition of the best German tradition, we have a combination of rare power and effectiveness, which can by no means be neglected.
The philosopher feels that he has a great mission, which is nothing less than the leading back of thought to belief in the spirit, deserted by so many for crude empiricism and positivism. His view of philosophy is that it sums up all the higher human activities, including religion, and that in proper hands it is able to solve any problem. But there is no finality about problems: the solution of one leads to the posing of another, and so on. Man is the maker of life, and his spirit ever proceeds from a lower to a higher perfection.
. . . . . . . . . .
I believe that Croce will one day be recognized as one of the very few great teachers of humanity. At present he is not appreciated at nearly his full value. One rises from a study of his philosophy with a sense of having been all the time as it were in personal touch with the truth, which is very far from the case after the perusal of certain other philosophies.
Secure in his strength, Croce will often introduce a joke or some amusing illustration from contemporary life, in the midst of a most profound and serious argument. This spirit of mirth is a sign of superiority. He who is not sure of himself can spare no energy for the making of mirth. Croce loves to laugh at his enemies and with his friends. So the philosopher of Naples sits by the blue gulf and explains the universe to those who have ears to hear. "One can philosophize anywhere," he says—but he remains significantly at Naples.
Thus I conclude these brief remarks upon the author of the Æsthetic, confident that those who give time and attention to its study will be grateful for having placed in their hands this pearl of great price from the diadem of the antique Parthenope.
DOUGLAS AINSLIE.
THE ATHENÆUM, PALL MALL,
May 1909.
[NOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR]
TO THE SECOND ENGLISH EDITION
This second edition of the Æsthetic will be found to contain the complete translation of the historical portion, which I was obliged to summarize in the first edition. I have made a number of alterations and some additions to the theoretical portion, following closely the fourth (definitive) Italian edition, and in so doing have received much advice and assistance of value from Mrs. Salusbury, to whom I beg to tender my best thanks. I trust that this new edition will enable all those desirous of studying the work to get into direct touch with the thought of the author.
THE ATHENÆUM, PALL MALL, S.W.,
November 1920.
[AUTHOR'S PREFACE]
This volume is composed of a theoretical and of a historical part, which form two independent but complementary books.
The nucleus of the theoretical part is a memoir, bearing the title Fundamental Theses of an Æsthetic as Science of Expression and General Linguistic, which was read at the Accademia Pontaniana of Naples during the sessions of February 18 and May 6, 1900, and printed in vol. xxx. of its Acts. The author has added few substantial variations, but not a few additions and amplifications in rewriting it, also following a somewhat different sequence with a view to rendering the exposition more plain and easy. The first five chapters only of the historical portion were inserted in the Neapolitan review Flegrea (April 1901), under the title Giambattista Vico, First Discoverer of Æsthetic Science, and these also reappear amplified and brought into harmony with the rest.
The author has dwelt, especially in the theoretical part, upon general questions which are side-issues in respect to the theme that he has treated. But this will not seem a digression to those who remember that, strictly speaking, there are no particular philosophical sciences, standing by themselves. Philosophy is unity, and when we treat of Æsthetic or of Logic or of Ethics, we treat always of the whole of philosophy, although illustrating for didactic purposes only one side of that inseparable unity. In like manner, owing to this intimate connexion of all the parts of philosophy, the uncertainty and misunderstanding as to the æsthetic activity, the representative and productive imagination, this firstborn of the spiritual activities, mainstay of the others, generates everywhere else misunderstandings, uncertainties and errors: in Psychology as in Logic, in History as in the Philosophy of Practice. If language is the first spiritual manifestation, and if the æsthetic form is language itself, taken in all its true scientific extension, it is hopeless to try to understand clearly the later and more complicated phases of the life of the spirit, when their first and simplest moment is ill known, mutilated and disfigured. From the explanation of the æsthetic activity is also to be expected the correction of several concepts and the solution of certain philosophic problems which generally seem to be almost desperate. Such is precisely the spirit animating the present work. And if the present attempt and the historical illustrations which accompany it may be of use in winning friends to these studies, by levelling obstacles and indicating paths to be followed; if this happen, especially here in Italy, whose æsthetic traditions (as has been demonstrated in its place) are very noble, the author will consider that he has gained his end, and one of his keenest desires will have been satisfied.
NAPLES, December 1901.
In addition to a careful literary revision, (in which, as well as in the revision of the notes, I have received valuable help from my friend Fausto Nicolini) I have in this third edition made certain alterations of theory, especially in Chapters X. and XI. of Part I., suggested by further reflexion and self-criticism.
But I have refrained from introducing corrections or additions of such a kind as to alter the original plan of the book, which was, or was meant to be, a complete but brief æsthetic theory set in the framework of a general sketch of a Philosophy of the Spirit.
The reader who desires a complete statement of the general or collateral doctrines or a more particular exposition of the other parts of philosophy (e.g. the lyrical nature of art) is now referred to the volumes on Logic and the Philosophy of Practice, which together with the present work compose the Philosophy of the Spirit which in the author's opinion exhausts the entire field of Philosophy. The three volumes were not conceived and written simultaneously; if they had been, some details would have been differently arranged. When I wrote the first I had no idea of giving it, as I have now done, two such companions; and I therefore designed it to be, as I say, complete in itself. In the second place, the present state of the study of Æsthetic made it desirable to append to the theoretical exposition a somewhat full history of the science, whereas for the other parts of Philosophy I was able to restrict myself to brief historical notes merely designed to show how, from my point of view, such a history would best be composed. Lastly, there are many things which now, after a systematic exposition of the various philosophical sciences, I see in closer connexions and in a clearer, or at least a different, light; a certain hesitation and even some doctrinal errors visible here and there in the Æsthetic, especially where subjects foreign to Æsthetic itself are being treated, would now no longer be justified. For all these reasons the three volumes, in spite of their substantial unity of spirit and of aim, have each its own physiognomy, and show marks of the different periods of life at which they were written, so as to group themselves, and to demand interpretation, as a progressive series according to their dates of publication.
With what may be called the minor problems of Æsthetic, and the objections which have been or might be brought against my theory, I have dealt and am continuing to deal in special essays, of which I shall shortly publish a first collection which will form a kind of explanatory and polemical appendix to the present volume.
November 1907.
In revising this book once more for a fourth edition, I take the opportunity of announcing that the supplementary volume of essays promised above was published in 1910 under the title Problems of Æsthetic and Contributions to the History of Æsthetic in Italy.
B. C.
May 1911.
I
[THEORY OF ÆSTHETIC]
[I]
INTUITION AND EXPRESSION
Intuitive knowledge.
Knowledge has two forms: it is either intuitive knowledge or logical knowledge; knowledge obtained through the imagination or knowledge obtained through the intellect; knowledge of the individual or knowledge of the universal; of individual things or of the relations between them: it is, in fact, productive either of images or of concepts.
In ordinary life, constant appeal is made to intuitive knowledge. It is said that we cannot give definitions of certain truths; that they are not demonstrable by syllogisms; that they must be learnt intuitively. The politician finds fault with the abstract reasoner, who possesses no lively intuition of actual conditions; the educational theorist insists upon the necessity of developing the intuitive faculty in the pupil before everything else; the critic in judging a work of art makes it a point of honour to set aside theory and abstractions, and to judge it by direct intuition; the practical man professes to live rather by intuition than by reason.
But this ample acknowledgment granted to intuitive knowledge in ordinary life, does not correspond to an equal and adequate acknowledgment in the field of theory and of philosophy. There exists a very ancient science of intellectual knowledge, admitted by all without discussion, namely, Logic; but a science of intuitive knowledge is timidly and with difficulty asserted by but a few. Logical knowledge has appropriated the lion's share; and if she does not slay and devour her companion outright, yet yields to her but grudgingly the humble place of maid-servant or doorkeeper.—What can intuitive knowledge be without the light of intellectual knowledge? It is a servant without a master; and though a master find a servant useful, the master is a necessity to the servant, since he enables him to gain his livelihood. Intuition is blind; intellect lends her eyes.
Its independence with respect to intellectual knowledge.
Now, the first point to be firmly fixed in the mind is that intuitive knowledge has no need of a master, nor to lean upon any one; she does not need to borrow the eyes of others, for she has excellent eyes of her own. Doubtless it is possible to find concepts mingled with intuitions. But in many other intuitions there is no trace of such a mixture, which proves that it is not necessary. The impression of a moonlight scene by a painter; the outline of a country drawn by a cartographer; a musical motive, tender or energetic; the words of a sighing lyric, or those with which we ask, command and lament in ordinary life, may well all be intuitive facts without a shadow of intellectual relation. But, think what one may of these instances, and admitting further the contention that the greater part of the intuitions of civilized man are impregnated with concepts, there yet remains to be observed something more important and more conclusive. Those concepts which are found mingled and fused with the intuitions are no longer concepts, in so far as they are really mingled and fused, for they have lost all independence and autonomy. They have been concepts, but have now become simple elements of intuition. The philosophical maxims placed in the mouth of a personage of tragedy or of comedy, perform there the function, not of concepts, but of characteristics of such personage; in the same way as the red in a painted face does not there represent the red colour of the physicists, but is a characteristic element of the portrait. The whole is that which determines the quality of the parts. A work of art may be full of philosophical concepts; it may contain them in greater abundance and they may there be even more profound than in a philosophical dissertation, which in its turn may be rich to overflowing with descriptions and intuitions. But notwithstanding all these concepts the total effect of the work of art is an intuition; and notwithstanding all those intuitions, the total effect of the philosophical dissertation is a concept. The Promessi Sposi contains copious ethical observations and distinctions, but does not for that reason lose as a whole its character of simple story or intuition. In like manner the anecdotes and satirical effusions to be found in the works of a philosopher like Schopenhauer do not deprive those works of their character of intellectual treatises. The difference between a scientific work and a work of art, that is, between an intellectual fact and an intuitive fact, lies in the difference of the total effect aimed at by their respective authors. This it is that determines and rules over the several parts of each not these parts separated and considered abstractly in themselves.
Intuition and perception.
But to admit the independence of intuition as regards concept does not suffice to give a true and precise idea of intuition. Another error arises among those who recognize this, or who at any rate do not explicitly make intuition dependent upon the intellect, to obscure and confuse the real nature of intuition. By intuition is frequently understood perception, or the knowledge of actual reality, the apprehension of something as real.
Certainly perception is intuition: the perceptions of the room in which I am writing, of the ink-bottle and paper that are before me, of the pen I am using, of the objects that I touch and make use of as instruments of my person, which, if it write, therefore exists;—these are all intuitions. But the image that is now passing through my brain of a me writing in another room, in another town, with different paper, pen and ink, is also an intuition. This means that the distinction between reality and non-reality is extraneous, secondary, to the true nature of intuition. If we imagine a human mind having intuitions for the first time, it would seem that it could have intuitions of actual reality only, that is to say, that it could have perceptions of nothing but the real. But since knowledge of reality is based upon the distinction between real images and unreal images, and since this distinction does not at the first moment exist, these intuitions would in truth not be intuitions either of the real or of the unreal, not perceptions, but pure intuitions. Where all is real, nothing is real. The child, with its difficulty of distinguishing true from false, history from fable, which are all one to childhood, can furnish us with a sort of very vague and only remotely approximate idea of this ingenuous state. Intuition is the undifferentiated unity of the perception of the real and of the simple image of the possible. In our intuitions we do not oppose ourselves as empirical beings to external reality, but we simply objectify our impressions, whatever they be.
Intuition and the concepts of space and time.
Those, therefore, who look upon intuition as sensation formed and arranged simply according to the categories of space and time, would seem to approximate more nearly to the truth. Space and time (they say) are the forms of intuition; to have an intuition is to place it in space and in temporal sequence. Intuitive activity would then consist in this double and concurrent function of spatiality and temporality. But for these two categories must be repeated what was said of intellectual distinctions, when found mingled with intuitions. We have intuitions without space and without time: the colour of a sky, the colour of a feeling, a cry of pain and an effort of will, objectified in consciousness: these are intuitions which we possess, and with their making space and time have nothing to do. In some intuitions, spatiality may be found without temporality, in others, vice versa; and even where both are found, they are perceived by later reflexion: they can be fused with the intuition in like manner with all its other elements: that is, they are in it materialiter and not formaliter, as ingredients and not as arrangement. Who, without an act of reflexion which for a moment breaks in upon his contemplation, can think of space while looking at a drawing or a view? Who is conscious of temporal sequence while listening to a story or a piece of music without breaking into it with a similar act of reflexion? What intuition reveals in a work of art is not space and time, but character, individual physiognomy. The view here maintained is confirmed in several quarters of modern philosophy. Space and time, far from being simple and primitive functions, are nowadays conceived as intellectual constructions of great complexity. And further, even in some of those who do not altogether deny to space and time the quality of formative principles, categories and functions, one observes an effort to unite them and to regard them in a different manner from that in which these categories are generally conceived. Some limit intuition to the sole category of spatiality, maintaining that even time can only be intuited in terms of space. Others abandon the three dimensions of space as not philosophically necessary, and conceive the function of spatiality as void of all particular spatial determination. But what could such a spatial function be, a simple arrangement that should arrange even time? It represents, surely, all that criticism and refutation have left standing—the bare demand for the affirmation of some intuitive activity in general. And is not this activity truly determined, when one single function is attributed to it, not spatializing nor temporalizing, but characterizing? Or rather, when it is conceived as itself a category or function which gives us knowledge of things in their concreteness and individuality?
Intuition and sensation.
Having thus freed intuitive knowledge from any suggestion of intellectualism and from every later and external addition, we must now explain it and determine its limits from another side and defend it from a different kind of invasion and confusion. On the hither side of the lower limit is sensation, formless matter, which the spirit can never apprehend in itself as simple matter. This it can only possess with form and in form, but postulates the notion of it as a mere limit. Matter, in its abstraction, is mechanism, passivity; it is what the spirit of man suffers, but does not produce. Without it no human knowledge or activity is possible; but mere matter produces animality, whatever is brutal and impulsive in man, not the spiritual dominion, which is humanity. How often we strive to understand clearly what is passing within us! We do catch a glimpse of something, but this does not appear to the mind as objectified and formed. It is in such moments as these that we best perceive the profound difference between matter and form. These are not two acts of ours, opposed to one another; but the one is outside us and assaults and sweeps us off our feet, while the other inside us tends to absorb and identify itself with that which is outside. Matter, clothed and conquered by form, produces concrete form. It is the matter, the content, which differentiates one of our intuitions from another: the form is constant: it is spiritual activity, while matter is changeable. Without matter spiritual activity would not forsake its abstractness to become concrete and real activity, this or that spiritual content, this or that definite intuition.
It is a curious fact, characteristic of our times, that this very form, this very activity of the spirit, which is essentially ourselves, is so often ignored or denied. Some confound the spiritual activity of man with the metaphorical and mythological activity of what is called nature, which is mechanism and has no resemblance to human activity, save when we imagine, with Æsop, that "arbores loquuntur non tantum ferae." Some affirm that they have never observed in themselves this "miraculous" activity, as though there were no difference, or only one of quantity, between sweating and thinking, feeling cold and the energy of the will. Others, certainly with greater reason, would unify activity and mechanism in a more general concept, though they are specifically distinct. Let us, however, refrain for the moment from examining if such a final unification be possible, and in what sense, but admitting that the attempt may be made, it is clear that to unify two concepts in a third implies to begin with the admission of a difference between the two first. Here it is this difference that concerns us and we set it in relief.
Intuition and association.
Intuition has sometimes been confused with simple sensation. But since this confusion ends by being offensive to common sense, it has more frequently been attenuated or concealed with a phraseology apparently designed at once to confuse and to distinguish them. Thus, it has been asserted that intuition is sensation, but not so much simple sensation as association of sensations. Here a double meaning is concealed in the word "association." Association is understood, either as memory, mnemonic association, conscious recollection, and in that case the claim to unite in memory elements which are not intuited, distinguished, possessed in some way by the spirit and produced by consciousness, seems inconceivable: or it is understood as association of unconscious elements, in which case we remain in the world of sensation and of nature. But if with certain associationists we speak of an association which is neither memory nor flux of sensations, but a productive association (formative, constructive, distinguishing); then our contention is admitted and only its name is denied to it. For productive association is no longer association in the sense of the sensationalists, but synthesis, that is to say, spiritual activity. Synthesis may be called association; but with the concept of productivity is already posited the distinction between passivity and activity, between sensation and intuition.
Intuition and representation.
Other psychologists are disposed to distinguish from sensation something which is sensation no longer, but is not yet intellectual concept: the representation or image. What is the difference between their representation or image and our intuitive knowledge? Everything and nothing: for "representation" is a very equivocal word. If by representation be understood something cut off and standing out from the psychic basis of the sensations, then representation is intuition. If, on the other hand, it be conceived as complex sensation we are back once more in crude sensation, which does not vary in quality according to its richness or poverty, or according to whether the organism in which it appears is rudimentary or highly developed and full of traces of past sensations. Nor is the ambiguity remedied by defining representation as a psychic product of secondary degree in relation to sensation, defined as occupying the first place. What does secondary degree mean here? Does it mean a qualitative, formal difference? If so, representation is an elaboration of sensation and therefore intuition. Or does it mean greater complexity and complication, a quantitative, material difference? In that case intuition is once more confused with simple sensation.
Intuition and expression.
And yet there is a sure method of distinguishing true intuition, true representation, from that which is inferior to it: the spiritual fact from the mechanical, passive, natural fact. Every true intuition or representation is also expression. That which does not objectify itself in expression is not intuition or representation, but sensation and mere natural fact. The spirit only intuites in making, forming, expressing. He who separates intuition from expression never succeeds in reuniting them.
Intuitive activity possesses intuitions to the extent that it expresses them. Should this proposition sound paradoxical, that is partly because, as a general rule, a too restricted meaning is given to the word "expression." It is generally restricted to what are called verbal expressions alone. But there exist also non-verbal expressions, such as those of line, colour and sound, and to all of these must be extended our affirmation, which embraces therefore every sort of manifestation of the man, as orator, musician, painter, or anything else. But be it pictorial, or verbal, or musical, or in whatever other form it appear, to no intuition can expression in one of its forms be wanting; it is, in fact, an inseparable part of intuition. How can we really possess an intuition of a geometrical figure, unless we possess so accurate an image of it as to be able to trace it immediately upon paper or on the blackboard?
How can we really have an intuition of the contour of a region, for example of the island of Sicily, if we are not able to draw it as it is in all its meanderings? Every one can experience the internal illumination which follows upon his success in formulating to himself his impressions and feelings, but only so far as he is able to formulate them. Feelings or impressions, then, pass by means of words from the obscure region of the soul into the clarity of the contemplative spirit. It is impossible to distinguish intuition from expression in this cognitive process. The one appears with the other at the same instant, because they are not two, but one.
Illusion as to their difference.
The principal reason which makes our view appear paradoxical as we maintain it, is the illusion or prejudice that we possess a more complete intuition of reality than we really do. One often hears people say that they have many great thoughts in their minds, but that they are not able to express them. But if they really had them, they would have coined them into just so many beautiful, sounding words, and thus have expressed them. If these thoughts seem to vanish or to become few and meagre in the act of expressing them, the reason is that they did not exist or really were few and meagre. People think that all of us ordinary men imagine and intuite countries, figures and scenes like painters, and bodies like sculptors; save that painters and sculptors know how to paint and carve such images, while we bear them unexpressed in our souls. They believe that any one could have imagined a Madonna of Raphæl; but that Raphæl was Raphæl owing to his technical ability in putting the Madonna upon canvas. Nothing can be more false than this view. The world which as a rule we intuite is a small thing. It consists of little expressions, which gradually become greater and wider with the increasing spiritual concentration of certain moments. They are the words we say to ourselves, our silent judgments: "Here is a man, here is a horse, this is heavy, this is sharp, this pleases me," etc. It is a medley of light and colour, with no greater pictorial value than would be expressed by a haphazard splash of colours, from among which one could barely make out a few special, distinctive traits. This and nothing else is what we possess in our ordinary life; this is the basis of our ordinary action. It is the index of a book. The labels tied to things (it has been said) take the place of the things themselves. This index and these labels (themselves expressions) suffice for small needs and small actions. From time to time we pass from the index to the book, from the label to the thing, or from the slight to the greater intuitions, and from these to the greatest and most lofty. This passage is sometimes far from easy. It has been observed by those who have best studied the psychology of artists that when, after having given a rapid glance at any one, they attempt to obtain a real intuition of him, in order, for example, to paint his portrait, then this ordinary vision, that seemed so precise, so lively, reveals itself as little better than nothing. What remains is found to be at the most some superficial trait, which would not even suffice for a caricature. The person to be painted stands before the artist like a world to discover. Michæl Angelo said, "One paints, not with the hands, but with the brain." Leonardo shocked the prior of the Convent of the Graces by standing for days together gazing at the "Last Supper," without touching it with the brush. He remarked of this attitude: "The minds of men of lofty genius are most active in invention when they are doing the least external work." The painter is a painter, because he sees what others only feel or catch a glimpse of, but do not see. We think we see a smile, but in reality we have only a vague impression of it, we do not perceive all the characteristic traits of which it is the sum, as the painter discovers them after he has worked upon them and is thus able to fix them on the canvas. We do not intuitively possess more even of our intimate friend, who is with us every day and at all hours, than at most certain traits of physiognomy which enable us to distinguish him from others. The illusion is less easy as regards musical expression; because it would seem strange to every one to say that the composer had added or attached notes to a motive which was already in the mind of him who is not the composer; as if Beethoven's Ninth Symphony were not his own intuition and his intuition the Ninth Symphony. Now, just as one who is deluded as to the amount of his material wealth is confuted by arithmetic, which states its exact amount, so he who nourishes delusions as to the wealth of his own thoughts and images is brought back to reality, when he is obliged to cross the Pons Asinorum of expression. Let us say to the former, count; to the latter, speak; or, here is a pencil, draw, express yourself.
Each of us, as a matter of fact, has in him a little of the poet, of the sculptor, of the musician, of the painter, of the prose writer: but how little, as compared with those who bear those names, just because they possess the most universal dispositions and energies of human nature in so lofty a degree! How little too does a painter possess of the intuitions of a poet! And how little does one painter possess those of another painter! Nevertheless, that little is all our actual patrimony of intuitions or representations. Beyond these are only impressions, sensations, feelings, impulses, emotions, or whatever else one may term what still falls short of the spirit and is not assimilated by man; something postulated for the convenience of exposition, while actually non-existent, since to exist also is a fact of the spirit.
Identity of intuition and expression.
We may thus add this to the various verbal descriptions of intuition, noted at the beginning: intuitive knowledge is expressive knowledge. Independent and autonomous in respect to intellectual function; indifferent to later empirical discriminations, to reality and to unreality, to formations and apperceptions of space and time, which are also later: intuition or representation is distinguished as form from what is felt and suffered, from the flux or wave of sensation, or from psychic matter; and this form, this taking possession, is expression. To intuite is to express; and nothing else (nothing more, but nothing less) than to express.
[II]
INTUITION AND ART
Corollaries and explanations.
Before proceeding further, it may be well to draw certain consequences from what has been established and to add some explanations.
Identity of art and intuitive knowledge.
We have frankly identified intuitive or expressive knowledge with the æsthetic or artistic fact, taking works of art as examples of intuitive knowledge and attributing to them the characteristics of intuition, and vice versa. But our identification is combated by a view held even by many philosophers, who consider art to be an intuition of an altogether special sort. "Let us admit" (they say) "that art is intuition; but intuition is not always art: artistic intuition is a distinct species differing from intuition in general by something more."
No specific difference.
But no one has ever been able to indicate of what this something more consists. It has sometimes been thought that art is not a simple intuition, but an intuition of an intuition, in the same way as the concept of science has been defined, not as the ordinary concept, but as the concept of a concept. Thus man would attain to art by objectifying, not his sensations, as happens with ordinary intuition, but intuition itself. But this process of raising to a second power does not exist; and the comparison of it with the ordinary and scientific concept does not prove what is intended, for the good reason that it is not true that the scientific concept is the concept of a concept. If this comparison proves anything, it proves just the opposite. The ordinary concept, if it be really a concept and not a simple representation, is a perfect concept, however poor and limited. Science substitutes concepts for representations; for those concepts that are poor and limited it substitutes others, larger and more comprehensive; it is ever discovering new relations. But its method does not differ from that by which is formed the smallest universal in the brain of the humblest of men. What is generally called par excellence art, collects intuitions that are wider and more complex than those which we generally experience, but these intuitions are always of sensations and impressions.
Art is expression of impressions, not expression of expression.
No difference of intensity.
For the same reason, it cannot be asserted that the intuition, which is generally called artistic, differs from ordinary intuition as intensive intuition. This would be the case if it were to operate differently on the same matter. But since the artistic function is extended to wider fields, yet does not differ in method from ordinary intuition, the difference between them is not intensive but extensive. The intuition of the simplest popular love-song, which says the same thing, or very nearly, as any declaration of love that issues at every moment from the lips of thousands of ordinary men, may be intensively perfect in its poor simplicity, although it be extensively so much more limited than the complex intuition of a love-song by Leopardi.
The difference is extensive and empirical.
The whole difference, then, is quantitative, and as such is indifferent to philosophy, scientia qualitatum. Certain men have a greater aptitude, a more frequent inclination fully to express certain complex states of the soul. These men are known in ordinary language as artists. Some very complicated and difficult expressions are not often achieved, and these are called works of art. The limits of the expression-intuitions that are called art, as opposed to those that are vulgarly called non-art, are empirical and impossible to define. If an epigram be art, why not a simple word? If a story, why not the news-jottings of the journalist? If a landscape, why not a topographical sketch? The teacher of philosophy in Molière's comedy was right: "whenever we speak, we create prose." But there will always be scholars like Monsieur Jourdain, astonished at having spoken prose for forty years without knowing it, who will have difficulty in persuading themselves that when they call their servant John to bring their slippers, they have spoken nothing less than—prose.
We must hold firmly to our identification, because among the principal reasons which have prevented Æsthetic, the science of art, from revealing the true nature of art, its real roots in human nature, has been its separation from the general spiritual life, the having made of it a sort of special function or aristocratic club. No one is astonished when he learns from physiology that every cell is an organism and every organism a cell or synthesis of cells. No one is astonished at finding in a lofty mountain the same chemical elements that compose a small stone fragment. There is not one physiology of small animals and one of large animals; nor is there a special chemical theory of stones as distinct from mountains. In the same way, there is not a science of lesser intuition as distinct from a science of greater intuition, nor one of ordinary intuition as distinct from artistic intuition. There is but one Æsthetic, the science of intuitive or expressive knowledge, which is the æsthetic or artistic fact. And this Æsthetic is the true analogue of Logic, which includes, as facts of the same nature, the formation of the smallest and most ordinary concept and the most complicated scientific and philosophical system.
Artistic genius.
Nor can we admit that the word genius or artistic genius, as distinct from the non-genius of the ordinary man, possesses more than a quantitative signification. Great artists are said to reveal us to ourselves. But how could this be possible, unless there were identity of nature between their imagination and ours, and unless the difference were only one of quantity? It were better to change poeta nascitur into homo nascitur poeta: some men are born great poets, some small. The cult of the genius with all its attendant superstitions has arisen from this quantitative difference having been taken as a difference of quality. It has been forgotten that genius is not something that has fallen from heaven, but humanity itself. The man of genius who poses or is represented as remote from humanity finds his punishment in becoming or appearing somewhat ridiculous. Examples of this are the genius of the romantic period and the superman of our time.
But it is well to note here, that those who claim unconsciousness as the chief quality of an artistic genius, hurl him from an eminence far above humanity to a position far below it. Intuitive or artistic genius, like every form of human activity, is always conscious; otherwise it would be blind mechanism. The only thing that can be wanting to artistic genius is the reflective consciousness, the superadded consciousness of the historian or critic, which is not essential to it.
Content and form in Æsthetic.
The relation between matter and form, or between content and form, as is generally said, is one of the most disputed questions in Æsthetic. Does the æsthetic fact consist of content alone, or of form alone, or of both together? This question has taken on various meanings, which we shall mention, each in its place. But when these words are taken as signifying what we have above defined, and matter is understood as emotionality not æsthetically elaborated, or impressions, and form as intellectual activity and expression, then our view cannot be in doubt. We must, that is to say, reject both the thesis that makes the æsthetic fact to consist of the content alone (that is, the simple impressions), and the thesis which makes it to consist of a junction between form and content, that is, of impressions plus expressions. In the æsthetic fact, expressive activity is not added to the fact of the impressions, but these latter are formed and elaborated by it. The impressions reappear as it were in expression, like water put into a filter, which reappears the same and yet different on the other side. The æsthetic fact, therefore, is form, and nothing but form.
From this was inferred not that the content is something superfluous (it is, on the contrary, the necessary point of departure for the expressive fact); but that there is no passage from the qualities of the content to those of the form. It has sometimes been thought that the content, in order to be æsthetic, that is to say, transformable into form, should possess some determined or determinable qualities. But were that so, then form and content, expression and impression, would be the same thing. It is true that the content is that which is convertible into form, but it has no determinable qualities until this transformation takes place. We know nothing about it. It does not become æsthetic content before, but only after it has been actually transformed. The æsthetic content has also been defined as the interesting. That is not an untrue statement; it is merely void of meaning. Interesting to what? To the expressive activity? Certainly the expressive activity would not have raised the content to the dignity of form, had it not been interested in it. Being interested is precisely the raising of the content to the dignity of form. But the word "interesting" has also been employed in another and a illegitimate sense, which we shall explain further on.
Criticism of the imitation of nature and of the artistic illusion.
The proposition that art is imitation of nature has also several meanings. Sometimes truths have been expressed or at least shadowed forth in these words, sometimes errors have been promulgated. More frequently, no definite thought has been expressed at all. One of the scientifically legitimate meanings occurs when "imitation" is understood as representation or intuition of nature, a form of knowledge. And when the phrase is used with this intention, and in order to emphasize the spiritual character of the process, another proposition becomes legitimate also: namely, that art is the idealization or idealizing imitation of nature. But if by imitation of nature be understood that art gives mechanical reproductions, more or less perfect duplicates of natural objects, in the presence of which is renewed the same tumult of impressions as that caused by natural objects, then the proposition is evidently false. The coloured waxen effigies that imitate the life, before which we stand astonished in the museums where such things are shown, do not give æsthetic intuitions. Illusion and hallucination have nothing to do with the calm domain of artistic intuition. But on the other hand if an artist paint the interior of a wax-work museum, or if an actor give a burlesque portrait of a man-statue on the stage, we have work of the spirit and artistic intuition. Finally, if photography have in it anything artistic, it will be to the extent that it transmits the intuition of the photographer, his point of view, the pose and grouping which he has striven to attain. And if photography be not quite an art, that is precisely because the element of nature in it remains more or less unconquered and ineradicable. Do we ever, indeed, feel complete satisfaction before even the best of photographs? Would not an artist vary and touch up much or little, remove or add something to all of them?
Criticism of art conceived as a fact of feeling, not a theoretical fact. Æsthetic appearance, and feeling.
The statements repeated so often, that art is not knowledge, that it does not tell the truth, that it does not belong to the world of theory, but to the world of feeling, and so forth, arise from the failure to realize exactly the theoretic character of simple intuition. This simple intuition is quite distinct from intellectual knowledge, as it is distinct from perception of the real; and the statements quoted above arise from the belief that only intellectual cognition is knowledge. We have seen that intuition is knowledge, free from concepts and more simple than the so-called perception of the real. Therefore art is knowledge, form; it does not belong to the world of feeling or to psychic matter. The reason why so many æstheticians have so often insisted that art is appearance (Schein), is precisely that they have felt the necessity of distinguishing it from the more complex fact of perception, by maintaining its pure intuitiveness. And if for the same reason it has been claimed that art is feeling the reason is the same. For if the concept as content of art, and historical reality as such, be excluded from the sphere of art, there remains no other content than reality apprehended in all its ingenuousness and immediacy in the vital impulse, in its feeling, that is to say again, pure intuition.
Criticism of the theory of æsthetic senses.
The theory of the æsthetic senses has also arisen from the failure to establish, or from having lost to view, the character of expression as distinct from impression, of form as distinct from matter.
This theory can be reduced to the error just indicated of wishing to find a passage from the qualities of the content to those of the form. To ask, in fact, what the æsthetic senses are, implies asking what sensible impressions are able to enter into æsthetic expressions, and which must of necessity do so. To this we must at once reply, that all impressions can enter into æsthetic expressions or formations, but that none are bound to do so of necessity. Dante raised to the dignity of form not only the "sweet colour of the oriental sapphire" (visual impressions), but also tactual or thermic impressions, such as the "dense air" and the "fresh rivulets" which "parch the more" the throat of the thirsty. The belief that a picture yields only visual impressions is a curious illusion. The bloom on a cheek, the warmth of a youthful body, the sweetness and freshness of a fruit, the edge of a sharp knife, are not these, too, impressions obtainable from a picture? Are they visual? What would a picture mean to an imaginary man, lacking all or many of his senses, who should in an instant acquire the organ of sight alone? The picture we are looking at and believe we see only with our eyes would seem to his eyes to be little more than an artist's paint-smeared palette.
Some who hold firmly to the æsthetic character of certain groups of impressions (for example, the visual and auditive), and exclude others, are nevertheless ready to admit that if visual and auditive impressions enter directly into the æsthetic fact, those of the other senses also enter into it, but only as associated. But this distinction is altogether arbitrary. Æsthetic expression is synthesis, in which it is impossible to distinguish direct and indirect. All impressions are placed by it on a level, in so far as they are æstheticized. A man who absorbs the subject of a picture or poem does not have it before him as a series of impressions, some of which have prerogatives and precedence over the others. He knows nothing as to what has happened prior to having absorbed it, just as, on the other hand, distinctions made after reflexion have nothing whatever to do with art as such.
The theory of the æsthetic senses has also been presented in another way; as an attempt to establish what physiological organs are necessary for the æsthetic fact. The physiological organ or apparatus is nothing but a group of cells, constituted and disposed in a particular manner; that is to say, it is a merely physical and natural fact or concept. But expression does not know physiological facts. Expression has its point of departure in the impressions, and the physiological path by which these have found their way to the mind is to it altogether indifferent. One way or another comes to the same thing: it suffices that they should be impressions.
It is true that the want of given organs, that is, of certain groups of cells, prevents the formation of certain impressions (when these are not otherwise obtained through a kind of organic compensation). The man born blind cannot intuite and express light. But the impressions are not conditioned solely by the organ, but also by the stimuli which operate upon the organ. One who has never had the impression of the sea will never be able to express it, in the same way as one who has never had the impression of the life of high society or of the political arena will never express either. This, however, does not prove the dependence of the expressive function on the stimulus or on the organ. It merely repeats what we know already: expression presupposes impression, and particular expressions particular impressions. For the rest, every impression excludes other impressions during the moment in which it dominates; and so does every expression.
Unity and indivisibility of the work of art.
Another corollary of the conception of expression as activity is the indivisibility of the work of art. Every expression is a single expression. Activity is a fusion of the impressions in an organic whole. A desire to express this has always prompted the affirmation that the work of art should have unity, or, what amounts to the same thing, unity in variety. Expression is a synthesis of the various, or multiple, in the one.
The fact that we divide a work of art into parts, a poem into scenes, episodes, similes, sentences, or a picture into single figures and objects, background, foreground, etc., may seem opposed to this affirmation. But such division annihilates the work, as dividing the organism into heart, brain, nerves, muscles and so on, turns the living being into a corpse. It is true that there exist organisms in which division gives rise to other living beings, but in such a case we must conclude, maintaining the analogy between the organism and the work of art, that in the latter case too there are numerous germs of life each ready to grow, in a moment, into a single complete expression.
It may be said that expression sometimes arises from other expressions. There are simple and there are compound expressions. One must surely admit some difference between the eureka, with which Archimedes expressed all his joy at his discovery, and the expressive act (indeed all the five acts) of a regular tragedy.—Not in the least: expression always arises directly from impressions. He who conceives a tragedy puts into a crucible a great quantity, so to say, of impressions: expressions themselves, conceived on other occasions, are fused together with the new in a single mass, in the same way as we can cast into a melting furnace formless pieces of bronze and choicest statuettes. Those choicest statuettes must be melted just like the pieces of bronze, before there can be a new statue. The old expressions must descend again to the level of impressions, in order to be synthesized in a new single expression.
Art as liberator.
By elaborating his impressions, man frees himself from them. By objectifying them, he removes them from him and makes himself their superior. The liberating and purifying function of art is another aspect and another formula of its character as activity. Activity is the deliverer, just because it drives away passivity.
This also explains why it is usual to attribute to artists both the maximum of sensibility or passion, and the maximum of insensibility or Olympian serenity. The two characters are compatible, for they do not refer to the same object. The sensibility or passion relates to the rich material which the artist absorbs into his psychic organism; the insensibility or serenity to the form with which he subdues and dominates the tumult of the sensations and passions.
[III]
ART AND PHILOSOPHY
Inseparability of intellectual from intuitive knowledge.
The two forms of knowledge, æsthetic and intellectual or conceptual, are indeed different, but this does not altogether amount to separation and disjunction, as of two forces each pulling in its own direction. If we have shown that the æsthetic form is altogether independent of the intellectual and suffices to itself without external support, we have not said that the intellectual can stand without the æsthetic. To describe the independence as reciprocal would not be true.
What is knowledge by concepts? It is knowledge of the relations of things, and things are intuitions. Concepts are not possible without intuitions, just as intuition is itself impossible without the matter of impressions. Intuitions are: this river, this lake, this brook, this rain, this glass of water; the concept is: water, not this or that appearance and particular example of water, but water in general, in whatever time or place it be realized; the material of infinite intuitions, but of one single constant concept.
But the concept, the universal, if it be no longer intuition in one respect, is intuition in another respect, and cannot fail of being intuition. The man who thinks has impressions and emotions, in so far as he thinks. His impression and emotion will be not love or hate, not the passion of the man who is not a philosopher, not hate or love for certain objects and individuals, but the effort of his thought itself, with the pain and the joy, the love and the hate joined to it. This effort cannot but assume an intuitive form, in becoming objective to the spirit. To speak is not to think logically; but to think logically is also to speak.
Criticism of the negations of this thesis.
That thought cannot exist without speech, is a truth generally admitted. The negations of this thesis are all founded on equivocations and errors.
The first of the equivocations is that of those who observe that one can likewise think with geometrical figures, algebraical numbers, ideographic signs, without any word, even pronounced silently and almost insensibly within one; that there are languages in which the word, the phonetic sign, expresses nothing, unless the written sign also be examined, and so on. But when we said "speak," we intended to employ a synecdoche, by which was to be understood "expression" in general, for we have already remarked that expression is not only so-called verbal expression. It may or may not be true that certain concepts may be thought without phonetic manifestations. But the very examples adduced to show this also prove that those concepts never exist without expressions.
Others point out that animals, or certain animals, think and reason without speaking. Now as to how, whether, and what animals think, whether they be rudimentary men, like savages who refuse to be civilized, rather than physiological machines, as the old spiritualists maintained, are questions that do not concern us here. When the philosopher talks of animal, brutal, impulsive, instinctive nature and the like, he does not base himself on such conjectures as to dogs or cats, lions or ants; but upon observations of what is called animal and brutal in man: of the animal side or basis of what we feel in ourselves. If individual animals, dogs or cats, lions or ants, possess something of the activity of man, so much the better, or so much the worse, for them. This means that in respect to them also we must talk, not of "nature" as a whole, but of its animal basis, as being perhaps larger and stronger in them than the animal basis of man. And if we suppose that animals think and form concepts, what kind of conjecture would justify the assertion that they do so without corresponding expressions? Analogy with man, knowledge of the spirit, human psychology, the instrument of all our conjectures as to animal psychology, would constrain us on the contrary to suppose that if they think in any way, they also somehow speak.
Another objection is derived from human psychology, and indeed literary psychology, to the effect that the concept can exist without the word, for it is certainly true that we all know books well thought and ill written: that is to say, a thought which remains beyond the expression, or notwithstanding faulty expression. But when we talk of books well thought and ill written, we cannot mean anything but that in such books are parts, pages, periods or propositions well thought and well written, and other parts (perhaps the least important) ill thought and ill written, not really thought and so not really expressed. Where Vico's Scienza nuova is really ill written, it is also ill thought. If we pass from the consideration of big books to a short sentence, the error or inaccuracy of such a contention will leap to the eyes. How could a single sentence be clearly thought and confusedly written?
All that can be admitted is that sometimes we possess thoughts (concepts) in an intuitive form, which is an abbreviated or rather peculiar expression, sufficient for us, but not sufficient to communicate it easily to any other given person or persons. Hence it is incorrect to say that we have the thought without the expression; whereas we should rather say that we have, indeed, the expression, but in such a form that it is not easy to communicate it to others. This, however, is a very variable, relative fact. There are always those who catch our thought on the wing, prefer it in this abbreviated form, and would be wearied by the greater development of it required by others. In other words, the thought considered abstractly and logically will be the same; but æsthetically we are dealing with two different intuition-expressions, into which different psychological elements enter. The same argument suffices to destroy, that is, to interpret correctly, the altogether empirical distinctior between an internal and an external language.
Art and science.
The most lofty manifestations, the summits of intellectual and of intuitive knowledge shining from afar, are called, as we know, Art and Science. Art and Science, then, are different and yet linked together; they meet on one side, which is the æsthetic side. Every scientific work is also a work of art. The æsthetic side may remain little noticed when our mind is altogether taken up with the effort to understand the thought of the man of science and to examine its truth. But it is no longer unnoticed when we pass from the activity of understanding to that of contemplation and see that thought either develop itself before us, limpid, exact, well-shaped, without superfluous or insufficient words, with appropriate rhythm and intonation; or confused, broken, embarrassed, tentative. Great thinkers are sometimes called great writers, while other equally great thinkers remain more or less fragmentary writers even if their fragments have the scientific value of harmonious, coherent, and perfect works.
We pardon thinkers and men of science their literary mediocrity. The fragments, the flashes, console us for the whole, because it is far easier to recover the well-arranged composition from the fragmentary work of genius, to liberate the flame latent in the spark, than to achieve the discovery of genius. But how can we pardon mediocre expression in pure artists? "Mediocribus esse poetis non di, non homines, non concessere columnae" The poet or painter who lacks form, lacks everything, because he lacks himself. Poetical material permeates the souls of all: the expression alone, that is to say, the form, makes the poet. And here appears the truth of the view which denies all content to art, just the intellectual concept being understood as content. In this sense, when we take "content" as equal to "concept" it is most true, not only that art does not consist of content, but also that it has no content.
Content and form: another meaning. Prose and poetry.