CHAPTER XOBJECTIONS AND ANSWERS
If the preceding discussion has been to any degree convincing, the reader may perhaps have put to himself a question which has often presented itself to the author—why no complete æsthetic system has been based on the psychology of feeling. In recent times some attempts have indeed been made to deduce the æsthetic value of art-works from their emotional content.[166]But we do not know of any comprehensive theory in which all the distinctive features of art had been consistently explained by reference to an emotionalistic principle. This fact is so much the more remarkable as the importance of feeling has been at least accidentally acknowledged by some of the greatest writers on æsthetic, such as, for instance, Taine and Ruskin.[167]It cannot have been without some reason that these authors have refrained from basing their art-theories on the notion of a craving for expression,—which would have provided a clear line of demarcation between æsthetic and non-æsthetic activities,—and have instead explained art as an intellectual function, which appears confused alternately with scientific, philosophic, and ethical activity. An attempt to trace the causes of this attitude will contribute to a further elucidation of the emotionalistic theory of art.
It may be contended with some appearance of truth that as soon as authors, who are themselves artists, have pronounced their opinion on the purposes of their own art, those who are not artists have no call to continue the discussion. But this would be to overlook the fact that the pure artist, as well as the purely artistic activity, must be considered as an abstraction. The bent of Goethe’s genius, for example, was perhaps by nature quite as much towards science, particularly philosophy, as towards art. Thus, although an artist may himself lay the chief stress on the intellectual or ethical elements in his work, his opinion should not induce us to give up the purely æsthetic criteria which we need for the theoretical definition of art-production as an activity to itself.
It is again only natural that intellectualistic elements should occupy the foremost place in the practical art-ideals which artists place before themselves and each other. Technical perfection is the only quality which can be consciously and intentionally aimed at. In works, therefore, which, like Herr Hirth’sPhysiologie der Kunst, are written from the point of view of the executive artist, this quality has received special attention.[168]For those who teach it or learn it, art must unavoidably appear as being chiefly a power and a skill. But for the theoretical observer it is evident that no kind of technical accomplishment, however wonderful it may be in itself, can impart to a work that purely æsthetic merit, art-value. The differences in the opinions of artists and theorists may therefore to a great extent have their ground in the different aspects of art, differently emphasised by either side to suit its own purposes.
It may, however, be objected that in the case of many artists and æstheticians it has been more than a negative cause which has deterred them from the emotionalistic interpretation. Goethe’s zealous championship of the intellectualistic elements in art was no doubt part of his crusade against prevailing sentimentalism.[169]There are many expressions in the æsthetic writings of Schiller which in their exaggeration would appear quite incomprehensible if we did not take into account the polemic position which he maintained towards the romantic currents in art.[170]In more recent times the reaction against the sentimental ideals has given rise to theories which are still more intellectualistic than the maxims of German classicism. By their dislike of that art which exhibits all the personal and most intimate emotions of the artist, the French Parnassians have been led to deny completely the part of feeling in all genuine art; and the mere existence of such a poetic school may be thought to prove the inadequacy of the interpretation of art which has been put forward in the preceding chapters.
The noblest expression of the personal pride that compels the artist to conceive his production as a purely intellectual function may be found in Leconte de Lisle’s sonnet “Les Montreurs,” where the poetrefuses to be a beggar for the gross pity or laughter of the crowd.
Dans mon orgueil muet, dans ma tombe sans gloire,Dussé-je m’engloutir pour l’éternité noire,Je ne te vendrai pas mon ivresse ou mon mal,Je ne livrerai pas ma vie à tes huées,Je ne danserai pas sur ton tréteau banalAvec tes histrions et tes prostituées.[171]
Dans mon orgueil muet, dans ma tombe sans gloire,Dussé-je m’engloutir pour l’éternité noire,Je ne te vendrai pas mon ivresse ou mon mal,Je ne livrerai pas ma vie à tes huées,Je ne danserai pas sur ton tréteau banalAvec tes histrions et tes prostituées.[171]
Dans mon orgueil muet, dans ma tombe sans gloire,Dussé-je m’engloutir pour l’éternité noire,Je ne te vendrai pas mon ivresse ou mon mal,Je ne livrerai pas ma vie à tes huées,Je ne danserai pas sur ton tréteau banalAvec tes histrions et tes prostituées.[171]
Dans mon orgueil muet, dans ma tombe sans gloire,
Dussé-je m’engloutir pour l’éternité noire,
Je ne te vendrai pas mon ivresse ou mon mal,
Je ne livrerai pas ma vie à tes huées,
Je ne danserai pas sur ton tréteau banal
Avec tes histrions et tes prostituées.[171]
Nothing could indeed be further from our intentions than to enter the lists against the so-called Parnassian ideas. At a time when intimate confessions seem to be the most sought-for things in literature, we have reason to value every appeal to the dignity of the artist. But it is only a confusion of ideas which can lead any one to think that this dignity would be in any way infringed by the adoption of an emotionalistic art-theory. We have been especially anxious not to be misunderstood on this point, and this is the only reason why in the preceding chapters we have taken so much pains to disentangle the psychology of feeling, especially the relation between simple feeling and emotions. The word feeling, as it is used colloquially, generally involves only the fully formed emotions, especially those which are painful. Owing to this narrow and inadequate usage, every one who speaks of the importance of feeling for art exposes himself to the accusation of sentimentalism. But it is sufficient to point out, with regard to such misconceptions, that even pride, joy, elation, and all the other pleasurable states, may be quite as emotional as any sorrow or melancholy. The poem of Leconte de Lisle, quoted above, may therefore, in spite of all that the author himself may have objected against such an interpretation, be considered as an expression offeeling. And we can in the same way point out that in every one of the most orthodox Parnassian poems some emotional state has been expressed by the poet and conveyed to the reader. It is only by virtue of this element that the poems of this school have attained to their high poetical quality.
Within the department of the pictorial arts want of precision in the use of terms has given rise to a confusion which is even greater than that which prevails with regard to poetry. It has been a natural result of intellectualistic views that in every painting the subject, the situation represented, has been considered as the most important element. As the endeavour to give an explanatory representation of external things and events has been assumed as essential to the artistic craving, so the essence of the artistic work, its real content, has been looked for in the things and events depicted. Especially when paintings are designated by a descriptive title, spectators will be apt to turn their attention solely to those situations or impressions which can be subsumed under the title. If they cannot find any emotional element in the subject, they declare the whole painting to be devoid of feeling. And for this misconception they may even find support in the utterances of the artists; for there are many painters who, fearing lest they might be confused with the melodramatic sensation-mongers, have emphatically pronounced their abhorrence of all emotional suggestion. For the unbiassed observer, however, it is evident that the painter’s joy over a colour or a nuance, or the melancholy which can be expressed, without any anthropomorphic element, by a mere relation between light and shadow, may be as emotional states as those which are embodied in the humorous or sentimentalsubjects of genre-painting. Every artistic representation, whether landscape, figure, or still-life, always conveys to us some emotional mood of the painter. If this feeling element has been conveyed in some pictures with greater distinctness than in others, this fact must not prevent us from acknowledging that it enters into every kind of art. We do not say, therefore, with Professor van Dyke, “Art to Phidias was a matter of form; to Titian a matter of colour; to Corot a matter of feeling;”[172]but we say, Art to Phidias was a matter of feeling expressed by form; to Titian a matter of feeling expressed by colour; and to Corot a matter of feeling expressed by lights.
In the essential unity of all feeling we may thus find the point in which all forms of art, notwithstanding their different subjects and materials, have their unity. By laying the chief stress on the emotional mood which in every work is conveyed from creator to spectator, we save the trouble of dividing the works into different classes. We need not then assume any peculiar principle of admiration for technical skill to explain the enjoyment of Dutch painting or of Greek sculpture. Nor need we put ourselves to the pains of deciding whether the subject or the execution is to be considered more important. The problem of content and form, so much debated throughout intellectualistic æsthetic, does not exist for the emotionalistic interpretation, which sees the essence of art in the feeling embodied, sometimes in a great and important subject, sometimes in some insignificant feature of nature or life. And the element of technical perfection becomes acknowledged in its proper light when interpreted as the indispensable condition for effectually achieving such an embodiment.
It would be impossible, however, to explain as merely a confusion of standpoints the fact that certain schools of art have been considered entirely unemotional. To some extent, no doubt, the deficient appreciation of purely pictorial art is the result of the disastrous influence which has, especially in England, been exercised by prevailing currents of criticism. By systematically diverting the attention of the public from the essential element in painting, the leaders of taste may, no doubt, accomplish great things in deadening the art-sense of nations. But it is scarcely probable that, even if he knew better than to look for a “story” and literary interest in a work of pure painting, the general spectator would be able to enjoy theétat d’âmewhich is expressed in anintérieurof Ver Meer or a landscape of Whistler. To him a painting the whole subject of which is sunshine, and the figures of which have no mission but that of absorbing or reflecting the light, would appear inane and cold. “Pictorial ideas,” which may represent such a wealth of feeling for the initiated, are thus to the artistically uneducated devoid of any emotional content.
Though emphasising as much as possible the unity of art, we are compelled to admit that the feelings which are conveyed in its higher and lower forms may be essentially different. While meeting in the “lower” art of our own and earlier times with an expression of the most general emotions and instincts which, by the very vehemence of their pathos, may awaken the aversion of the refined critic, we partake, in the higher art-forms, of feelings that can be derived only from a dispassionate contemplation of nature. This difference between higher and lower manifestations, though especially marked in painting, can be observed in all forms of art. We have no wish to deny the necessity of discriminatingbetween these “æsthetic feelings” of the higher art-forms and the elementary affections, which form the content of the sentimental, or, as the German philosophers would say, pathological art. The moods of æsthetic contemplation are, on the contrary, of so great significance that we can easily understand why they have been made the basis of so many systems of art-philosophy. From the point of view of the present work, which does not pretend to lay down a detailed criterion of perfection in art, but which only aims at explaining the most general social and psychological aspects of art-activity, it is necessary to adhere to the element which is common to all art, higher as well as lower, primitive or barbaric as well as civilised. And we can only, in passing, indicate the direction in which we believe an explanation is to be sought for the development of æsthetic attention and refined art-sense—those great problems which could be properly treated only in a separate work.
It has been pointed out by several authors on æsthetic, and even emphasised to excess, that a certain independence of the struggle for life is a condition for the appearance of a higher art. It is indeed a current fallacy that art must be the growth of culture and prosperity. But it is nevertheless incontestable, that the peculiar art-sense, the artistic intuitionpar excellence, can be developed only in nations and individuals who—be it by success in the struggle for life, by advantageous circumstances, or simply by a natural lightheartedness of their own—have grown superior to care for life’s necessities. This factor, however, is only a negative condition. By itself mere independence of wants could never have taught any one to derive an ever deeper and stronger pleasure from a thing which standsin no immediate relation to the primary emotions or the primary desires of the beholder or the artist. The æsthetic education of mankind, its growth in artistic refinement, could not have been accomplished without the influence of more positive factors.
In looking for such factors we unavoidably come to that datum which has been carefully excluded from the present part of our research, namely, the concrete work of art. Whatever may have been the conditions of their origin,—whether utilitarian or not,—poems, paintings, and sculptures must all have occasioned exercise of that interest and attention which is independent of the most immediate utilitarian interests. Even if poems, for instance, were written with a purpose primarily historical, they must have afforded both to the poet and to his audience the opportunity to consider them as pure works of art. Just as moral feelings have been gradually developed under the influence of actions which may originally have been quite non-ethical, so the refinement of æsthetic sense has been promoted by works of art, which may themselves have served entirely non-æsthetic purposes.