of Art, there is a third function which, though not absolutely necessary in its imitative stage, becomes in its ideal stage. I mean the function of Expression strictly so called, without which the product of imagination could not be communicated to others. Language, whether it be the Language of sound or form, is the last stage of the esthetic operation, and it does not always bear a due proportion to the inventive faculty. When it is too defective, the sublimest creations may be ranked lower than they deserve, owing to the failure of the poet to communicate his thought completely. Great powers of style may, on the other hand, confer unmerited reputation, which however does not endure. An instance of this is the preference that was given for so long a time to Racine over Corneille.
So long as Art is confined to Imitation, no special language is required; imitation is itself the substitute for language. But as soon as the representation has become idealized by heightening some features and suppressing or altering others, it corresponds to something which exists only in the mind of the composer; and its communication to the world requires additional labour devoted exclusively to Expression.
In this final process so necessary to the complete success of his work, the poet moulds his signs upon his inward type; just as he began at first by adapting them to external facts. So far there is some truth in Grétry’s principle that song is derived from speech by the intermediate stage of declamation. The same principle has been applied to all the special arts; it might also be applied to Poetry, oratory being the link between verse and prose. These views, however, are somewhat modified by the historical spirit of Positive Philosophy. We must invert Grétry’s relation of cause and effect; at least when we are considering those primitive times, when Art and Language first arose together.
The origin of all our faculties of expression is invariably esthetic; for we do not express till after we have felt strongly. Feeling had, in primitive times at all events, far more to do with these faculties than Thought, being a far stronger stimulant to external demonstration.
Even in the most highly wrought languages, where, in consequence of social requirements, reason has to a great extent encroached upon emotion, we see evidence of this truth. There is a musical element in the most ordinary conversation. Listening carefully to a lecture on the most abstruse mathematical problem, we shall hear intonations which proceed obviously from the heart rather than the head, and which are indications of character even in the most unimpassioned speaker.
Biology at once explains this law, by teaching that the stimulus to the muscles used in expression, whether vocal or gesticulatory, comes principally from the affective region of the brain; the specu-region being too inert to produce muscular contraction for which there is no absolute necessity. Accordingly, Sociology regards every language as containing in its primitive elements all that is spontaneous and universal in the esthetic development of Humanity; enough, that is, to satisfy the general need of communicating emotion. In this common field the special arts commence, and they ultimately widen it. But the operation is the same in its nature, whether carried on by popular instinct or by individuals. The final result is always more dependent on feeling than on reason, even in times like these, when the intellect has risen in revolt against the heart. Song, therefore, comes before Speech; Painting before Writing; because the first things we express are those which move our feelings most. Subsequently the necessities of social life oblige us to employ more frequently, and ultimately to develop, those elements in painting or in song, which relate to our practical wants and to our speculative faculties so far as they are required for supplying them; these forming the topics of ordinary communication. Thus the emotion from which the sign had originally proceeded becomes gradually effaced; the practical object is alone thought of, and expression becomes more rapid and less emphatic. The process goes on until at last the sign is supposed to have originated in arbitrary convention; though, if this were the case, its universal and spontaneous adoption would be inexplicable. Such, then, is the sociological theory of Language, on which I shall afterwards dwell more fully. I connect it with the whole class of esthetic functions, from which in the lower animals it is not distinguished. For no animal idealizes its song or gesture so far as to rise to anything that can properly be called Art.
[Classification of the arts on the principle of decreasing generality, and increasing intensity] To complete our examination of the philosophy of Art, statically viewed, we have now only to speak of the order in which the various arts should be classified. Placed as Art is, midway between Theory and Practice, it is classified on the same principle, the principle, that is of decreasing generality, which I have long ago shown to be applicable to all Positive classifications of whatever kind. We have already obtained from it a scale of the Beautiful, answering in most points to that which was first laid down for the True, and which we applied afterwards to the Good. By following it in the present instance, we shall be enabled to range the arts in the order of their conception and succession, as was done in my Treatise on Positive Philosophy for the various branches of Science and Industry.
The arts, then, should be classified by the decreasing generality and the increasing intensity, which involves also increasing technicality, of their modes of expression. In its highest term the esthetic scale connects itself with the scientific scale; and in its lowest with the industrial scale. This is in conformity with the position assigned to Art intermediate between Philosophy and Practical life. Art never becomes disconnected from human interests; but as it becomes less general and more technical, its relation with our higher attributes becomes less intimate, and it is more dependent on inorganic Nature, so that at last the kind of beauty depicted by it is merely material.
[Poetry] On these principles of classification we must give the first place to Poetry properly so called, as being the most general and least technical of the arts, and as being the basis on which all the rest depend. The impressions which it produces are less intense than those of the rest, but its sphere is evidently wider, since it embraces every side of our existence, whether individual, domestic, or social.
Poetry, like the special arts, has a closer relation with actions and impulses than with thoughts. Yet the most abstract conceptions are not excluded from its sphere; for not merely can it improve the language in which they are expressed, but it may add to their intrinsic beauty. It is, on the whole, the most popular of all the arts, both on account of its wider scope, and also because, its instruments of expression being taken directly from ordinary language, it is more generally intelligible than any other. True, in the highest kind of poetry versification is necessary; but this cannot be called a special art. The language of Poetry, although distinct in form, is in reality nothing but the language of common men more perfectly expressed. The only technical element in it, prosody, is easily acquired by a few days’ practice. A proof of the identity of the language of Poetry with that of common life, is the fact that no poet has ever been able to write with effect in a foreign or a dead language. And not only is this noblest of Arts more comprehensive, more spontaneous, more popular than the rest, but it surpasses them in that which is the characteristic feature of all art, Ideality. Poetry is the art which idealizes the most, and imitates the least. For these reasons it has always held the first place among the arts; a view which will be strengthened in proportion as we attach greater importance to idealization and less to mere expression. In expression it is inferior to the other arts, which represent such subjects as fall within their compass with greater intensity. But it is from Poetry that these subjects are usually borrowed.
[Music] The first term of the series being thus determined, the other arts may at once be ranked according to the degree of their affinity with Poetry. Let us begin by distinguishing the different senses to which they appeal; and we shall find that our series proceeds on the principle which biologists, since Gall’s time, have adopted for the classification of the special senses, the principle of decreasing sociability. There are only two senses which can be called esthetic; namely, Sight and Hearing: the others having no power of raising us to Idealization. The sense of smell can, it is true, enable us to associate ideas; but in man it exists too feebly for artistic effects.
Hearing and Sight correspond to the two modes of natural language, voice and gesture. From the first arises the art of Music; the second, which however is less esthetic, includes the three arts of form. These are more technical than Music; their field is not so wide, and moreover they stand at a greater distance from poetry; whereas Music remained for a long time identified with it. Another distinction is that the sense to which music appeals performs its function involuntarily; and this is one reason why the emotions which it calls forth are more spontaneous and more deep, though less definite, than in the case where it depends on the will whether we receive the impression or not.
Again, the difference between them answers to the distinction of Time and Space. The art of sound represents succession; the arts of form, co-existence. On all these grounds music should certainly be ranked before the other special arts, as the second term of the esthetic series. Its technical difficulties are exaggerated by pedants, whose interest it is to do so; in reality, special training is less needed for its appreciation, and even for its composition, than in the case of either painting or sculpture. Hence it is in every respect more popular and more social.
[Painting Sculpture Architecture] Of the three arts which appeal to the voluntary sense of sight, and which present simultaneous impressions, Painting, on the same principle of arrangement, holds the first rank, and Architecture the last; Sculpture being placed between them. Painting alone employs all the methods of visual expression, combining the effects of colour with those of form. Whether in public or private life, its sphere is wider than that of the other two. More technical skill is required in it than in music, and it is harder to obtain; but the difficulty is less than in Sculpture or in Architecture. These latter idealize less, and imitate more. Of the two, Architecture is the less esthetic. It is far more dependent on technical processes; and indeed most of its productions are rather works of industry than works of art. It seldom rises above material beauty: moral beauty it can only represent by artifices, of which the meaning is often ambiguous. But the impressions conveyed by it are so powerful and so permanent, that it will always retain its place among the fine arts, especially in the case of great public buildings, which stand out as the most imposing record of each successive phase of social development. Never has the power of Architecture been displayed to greater effect than in our magnificent cathedrals, in which the spirit of the Middle Ages has been idealized and preserved for posterity. They exhibit in a most striking manner the property which Architecture possesses of bringing all the arts together into a common centre.
[The conditions favourable to Art have never yet been combined] These brief remarks will illustrate the method adopted by the new philosophy in investigating a systematic theory of Art under all its statical aspects. We have now to speak of its action upon social life, whether in the final state of Humanity, or in the transitional movement through which that state is to be reached.
The Positive theory of history shows us at once, in spite of strong prejudices to the contrary, that up to the present time the progress achieved by Art has been, like that of Science and Industry, only preparatory; the conditions essential to its full development never having yet been combined.
[Neither in Polytheism] Too much has been made of the esthetic tendencies of the nations of antiquity, owing to the free scope that was given to Imagination in constructing their doctrines. In fact Polytheism, now that the belief in its principles exists no longer, has been regarded as simply a work of art. But the long duration of its principles would be sufficient proof that they were not created by the poets, but that they emanated from the philosophic genius of Humanity working spontaneously, as explained in my theory of human development, in the only way that was then possible. All that Art did for Polytheism was to perform its proper function of clothing it in a more poetic form. It is quite true that the peculiar character of Polytheistic philosophy gave greater scope for the development of Art than has been afforded by any subsequent system. It is to this portion of the theological period that we must attribute the first steps of esthetic development, whether in society or in the individual. Yet Art was never really incorporated into the ancient order. Its free growth was impossible so long as it remained under the control of Theocracy, which made use of it as an instrument, but which, from the stationary character of its dogmas, shackled its operations. Moreover, the social life of antiquity was highly unfavourable to Art. The sphere of personal feelings and domestic affections was hardly open to it. Public life in ancient times had certainly more vigorous and more permanent features, and here there was a wider field. Yet even in such a case as that of Homer, we feel that he would hardly have spent his extraordinary powers upon descriptions of military life, had there been nobler subjects for his genius. The only grand aspect, viewed socially, that war could offer, the system of incorporation instituted by Rome after a succession of conquests, could not then be foreseen. When that period arrived, ancient history was drawing to a close, and the only poetical tribute to this nobler policy was contained in a few beautiful lines of Virgil’s _Æneid_, ending with the remarkable expression, Pacisque imponere morem, (Impose the law of peace.)
[Nor under the Mediaeval system] Mediaeval society, notwithstanding irrational prejudices to the contrary, would have been far more favourable to the fine arts, could it have continued longer. I do not speak, indeed, of its dogmas; which were so incompatible with Art, as to lead to the strange inconsistency of giving a factitious sanction to Paganism in the midst of Christianity. By holding personal and chimerical objects before us as the end of life, Monotheism discouraged all poetry, except so far as it related to our individual existence. This, however, was idealized by the mystics, whose beautiful compositions penetrated into our inmost emotions, and wanted nothing but greater perfection of form. All that Catholicism effected for Art in other respects was to secure a better position for it, as soon as the priesthood became strong enough to counteract the intellectual and moral defects of Christian doctrine.
But the social life of the Middle Ages was far more esthetic than that of antiquity. War was still the prevailing occupation; but by assuming a defensive character, it had become far more moral, and therefore more poetic. Woman had acquired a due measure of freedom; and the free development of home affections were thus no longer restricted. There was a consciousness of personal dignity hitherto unknown, and yet quite compatible with social devotion, which elevated individual life in all its aspects. All these qualities were summed up in the noble institution of Chivalry; which gave a strong stimulus to Art throughout Western Europe, and diffused it more largely than in any former period.
This movement was in reality, though the fact is not recognized as it should be, the source of modern Art. The reason for its short duration is to be found in the essentially transient and provisional character of mediaeval society under all its aspects. By the time that its language and habits had become sufficiently stable for the esthetic spirit to produce works of permanent value, Catholic Feudalism was already undermined by the growing force of the negative movement. The beliefs and modes of life offered for idealization were seen to be declining: and neither the poet nor his readers could feel those deep convictions which the highest purposes of Art require.
[Much less in modern times] During the decline of Chivalry, Art received indirectly an additional impulse from the movement of social decomposition which has been going on rapidly for the last five centuries. In this movement all mental and social influences gradually participated. Negativism, it is true, is not the proper province of Art; but the dogmas of Christianity were so oppressive to it, that its efforts to shake off the yoke were of great service to the cause of general emancipation. Dante’s incomparable work is a striking illustration of this anomalous combination of two contradictory influences. It was a situation unfavourable for art, because every aspect of life was rapidly changing and losing its character before there was time to idealize it. Consequently the poet had to create his own field artificially from ancient history, which supplied him with those fixed and definite modes of life which he could not find around him. Thus it was that for several centuries the Classical system became the sole source of esthetic culture; the result being that Art lost much of the originality and popularity which had previously belonged to it. That great masterpieces should have been produced at all under such unfavourable circumstances is the best proof of the spontaneous character of our esthetic faculties. The value of the Classical system has been for some time entirely exhausted; and now that the negative movement has reached its extreme limits there only remained one service (a service of great temporary importance) for Art to render, the idealization of Doubt itself. Such a phase of course admitted of but short duration. The best examples of it are the works of Byron and Goethe, the principle value of which has been, that they have initiated Protestant countries into the unrestricted freedom of thought which emanated originally from French philosophy.
Thus history shows that the esthetic development of Humanity has been the result of spontaneous tendencies rather than of systematic guidance. The mental conditions most favourable to it have never been fulfilled simultaneously with its social conditions. At the present time both are alike wanting. Yet there is no evidence that our esthetic faculties are on the decline. Not only has the growth of art proceeded in spite of every obstacle, but it has become more thoroughly incorporated into the life of ordinary men. In ancient times it was cultivated only by a small class. So little was it recognized as a component part of social organization, that it did not even enter into men’s imaginary visions of a future existence. But in the Middle Ages the simplest minds were encouraged to cultivate the sense of beauty as one of the purest delights of human life; and it was held out as the principal occupation of the celestial state. From that time all classes of European society have taken an increasing interest in these elevating pleasures, beginning with poetry, and thence passing to the special arts, especially music, the most social of all. The influence of artists, even when they had no real claim to the title, has been on the increase; until at last the anarchy of the present time has introduced them to political power, for which they are utterly unqualified.
[Under Positivism the conditions will all be favourable. There will be fixed principles, and a nobler moral culture] All this would seem to show that the greatest epoch of Art has yet to come. In this respect, as in every other, the Past has but supplied the necessary materials for future reconstruction. What we have seen as yet is but a spontaneous and immature prelude; but in the manhood of our moral and mental powers, the culture of Art will proceed on principles as systematic as the culture of Science and of Industry, both of which at present are similarly devoid of organization. The regeneration of society will be incomplete until Art has been fully incorporated into the modern order. And to this result all our antecedents have been tending. To renew the esthetic movement so admirably begun in the Middle Ages, but interrupted by classical influences, will form a part of the great work which Positivism has undertaken, the completion and re-establishment of the Mediaeval structure upon a firmer intellectual basis. And when Art is once restored to its proper place, its future progress will be unchecked, because, as I shall now proceed to show, all the influences of the final order, spontaneous or systematic, will be in every respect favourable to it. If this can be made clear, the poetic capabilities of Positive Philosophy will require no further proof.
As being the only rallying point now possible for fixed convictions, without which life can have no definite or permanent character, Positivism is on this ground alone indispensable to all further development of modern Art. If the poet and his readers are alike devoid of such convictions, no idealization of life, whether personal, domestic, or social, is in any true sense possible. No emotions are fit subjects for Art unless they are felt deeply, and unless they come spontaneously to all. When society has no marked intellectual or moral feature, Art, which is its mirror, can have none either. And although the esthetic faculty is so innate in us that it never can remain inactive, yet its culture becomes in this case vague and objectless.
The fact therefore that Positivism terminates the Revolution by initiating the movement of organic growth is of itself enough to prove its beneficial influence upon Art.
Art, indeed, would profit by any method of reorganization, whatever its nature. But the principle on which Positivism proposes to reconstruct is peculiarly favourable to its growth. The opinions and the modes of life to which that principle conducts are precisely those which are most essential to esthetic development.
A more esthetic system cannot be imagined than one which teaches that Feeling is the basis on which the unity of human nature rests; and which assigns as the grand object of man’s existence, progress in every direction, but especially moral progress. It may seem at first as if the tendency of the new philosophy was merely to make us more systematic. And systematization is assuredly indispensable; but the sole object of it is to increase our sympathy and our synergic activity by supplying that fixity of principle which alone can lead to energetic practice. By teaching that the highest happiness is to aid in the happiness of others, Positivism invites the poet to his noblest function, the culture of generous sympathies, a subject far more poetic than the passions of hatred and oppression which hitherto have been his ordinary theme. A system which regards such culture as the highest object cannot fail to incorporate Poetry as one of its essential elements, and to give to it a far higher position than it has ever held before. Science, although it be the source from which the Positive system emanates, will be restricted to its proper function of supplying the objective basis for human prevision; thus giving to Art and Industry, which must always be the principal objects of our attention, the foundation they require. Positivism, substituting in every subject the relative point of view for the absolute, regarding, that is, every subject in its relation to Humanity, would not prosecute the study of the True beyond what is required for the development of the Good and the Beautiful. Beyond this point, scientific culture is a useless expenditure of time, and a diversion from the great end for which Man and Society exist. Subordinate as the ideal must ever be to the real, Art will yet exercise a most salutary influence upon Science, as soon as we cease to study Science in an absolute spirit. In the very simplest phenomena, after reaching the degree of exactness which our wants require, there is always a certain margin of liberty for the imagination; and advantage may very well be taken of this to make our conceptions more beautiful and so far more useful. Still more available is this influence of the Beautiful on the True in the highest subjects, those which directly concern Humanity. Minute accuracy being here more difficult and at the same time less important, more room is left for esthetic considerations. In representing the great historical types, for instance, Art has its place as well as Science. A society which devotes all its powers to making every aspect of life as perfect as possible, will naturally give preference to that kind of intellectual culture which is of all others the best calculated to heighten our sense of perfection.
[Predisposing influence of Education] The tendency of Positivism to favour these the most energetic of our intellectual faculties and the most closely related to our moral nature, is apparent throughout its educational system. The reader will have seen in the third chapter that in Positive education more importance is attached to Art than to Science, as the true theory of human development requires. Science intervenes only to put into systematic shape what Art, operating under the direct influence of affection, has spontaneously begun. As in the history of mankind esthetic development preceded scientific development, so it will be with the individual, whose education on the Positive method is but a reproduction of the education of the race. The only rational principle of our absurd classical system is its supposed tendency to encourage poetical training. The futility, however, of this profession is but too evident: the usual result of the system being to implant erroneous notions of all the fine arts, if not utter distaste for them. A striking illustration of its worthlessness is the idolatry with which for a whole century our French pedants regarded Boileau; a most skilful versifier, but of all our poets perhaps the least gifted with true poetic feeling. Positivist education will effect what classical education has attempted so imperfectly. It will familiarize the humblest working man or woman from childhood with all the beauties of the best poets; not those of his own nation merely, but of all the West. To secure the genuineness and efficiency of esthetic development, attention must first be given to the poets who depict our own modern society. Afterwards, as I have said, the young Positivist will be advised to complete his poetical course, by studying the poets who have idealized antiquity. But his education will not be limited to poetry, it will embrace the special arts of sound and form, by which the principal effects of poetry are reproduced with greater intensity.
Thus the contemplation and meditation suggested by Art, besides their own intrinsic charm, will prepare the way for the exercise of similar faculties in Science. For with the individual, as with the species, the combination of images will assist the combination of signs: signs in their origin being images which have lost their vividness. As the sphere of Art includes every subject of human interest, we shall become familiarized, during the esthetic period of education, with the principal conceptions that are afterwards to be brought before us systematically in the scientific period. Especially will this be true of historical studies. By the time that the pupil enters upon them, he will be already familiar with poetic descriptions of the various social phases, and of the men who played a leading part in them.
[Relation of Art to Religion] And if Art is of such importance in the education of the young, it is no less important in the afterwork of education; the work of recalling men or classes of men to those high feelings and principles which, in the daily business of life, are so apt to be forgotten. In the solemnities, private or public, appointed for this purpose, Positivism will rely far more on impressions such as poetry can inspire, than on scientific explanations. Indeed the preponderance of Art over Science will be still greater than in education properly so called.
The scientific basis of human conduct having been already laid down, it will not be necessary to do more than refer to it. The philosophic priesthood will in this case be less occupied with new conceptions, than with the enforcement of truth already known, which demands esthetic rather than scientific talent.
A vague presentiment of the proper function of Art in regulating public festivals was shown empirically by the Revolutionists. But all their attempts in this direction proved notorious failures; a signal proof that politicians should not usurp the office of spiritual guides.
The intention of a festival is to give public expression to deep and genuine feeling; spontaneousness therefore is its first condition.
Hence it is a matter with which political rulers are incompetent to deal; and even the spiritual power should only act as the systematic organ of impulses which already exist. Since the decline of Catholicism we have had no festivals worthy of the name; nor can we have them until Positivism has become generally accepted. All that governments could do at present is to exhibit unmeaning and undignified shows before discordant crowds, who are themselves the only spectacles worth beholding. Indeed the usurpation of this function by government is in many cases as tyrannical as it is irrational; arbitrary formulas are often imposed, which answer to no pre-existing feeling whatever.
Evidently the direction of festivals is a function which more than any other belongs exclusively to the spiritual power, since it is the spiritual power which regulates the tendencies of which these festivals are the manifestation. Here its work is essentially esthetic. A festival even in private, and still more in public life, is or should be a work of art; its purpose being to express certain feelings by voice or gesture, and to idealize them. It is the most esthetic of all functions, since it involves usually a complete combination of the four special arts, under the presidence of the primary art, Poetry. On this ground governments have in most cases been willing to waive their official authority in this matter, and to be largely guided by artistic counsel, accepting even the advice of painters and sculptors in the default of poets of real merit.
The esthetic tendencies of Positivism, with regard to institutions of this kind, are sufficiently evident in the worship of Woman, spoken of in the preceding chapter, and in the worship of Humanity, of which I shall speak more particularly afterwards. From these, indeed, most Positivist festivals, private or public, will originate. But this subject has been already broached, and will be discussed in the next chapter with as much detail as the limits of this introductory work allow.
While the social value of Art is thus enhanced by the importance of the work assigned to it, new and extensive fields for its operations are opened out by Positivism. Chief amongst these is History, regarded as a continuous whole; a domain at present almost untouched.
[Idealization of historical types] Modern poets, finding little to inspire them in their own times, and driven back into ancient life by the classical system, have already idealized some of the past phases of Humanity. Our great Corneille, for instance, is principally remembered for the series of dramas in which he has so admirably depicted various periods of Roman history. In our own times where the historical spirit has become stronger, novelists, like Scott and Manzoni, have made similar though less perfect attempts to idealize later periods. Such examples, however, are but spontaneous and imperfect indications of the new field which Positivism now offers to the artist; a field which extends over the whole region of the Past and even of the Future. Until this vast domain had been conceived of as a whole by the philosopher, it would have been impossible to bring it within the compass of poetry. Now theological and metaphysical philosophers were prevented by the absolute spirit of their doctrines from understanding history in all its phases, and were totally incapable of idealizing them as they deserved. Positivism, on the contrary, is always relative; and its principal feature is a theory of history which enables us to appreciate and become familiar with every mode in which human society has formed itself. No sincere Monotheist can understand and represent with fairness the life of Polytheists or Fetichists. But the Positivist poet, accustomed to look upon all past historical stages in their proper filiation, will be able so thoroughly to identify himself with all, as to awaken our sympathies for them, and revive the traces which each individual may recognize of corresponding phases in his own history. Thus we shall be able thoroughly to enter into the esthetic beauty of the Pagan creeds of Greece and Rome, without any of the scruples which Christians could not but feel when engaged on the same subject. In the Art of the Future all phases of the Past will be recalled to life with the same distinctness with which some of them have been already idealized by Homer and Corneille. And the value of this new source of inspiration is the greater that, at the same time that it is being opened out to the artist, the public is being prepared for its enjoyment. An almost exhaustless series of beautiful creations in epic or dramatic art may be produced, which, by rendering it more easy to comprehend and to glorify the Past in all its phases, will form an essential element, on the one hand, of our educational system, and on the other, of the worship of Humanity.
[Art requires the highest education; but little special instruction] Lastly, not only will the field for Art become wider, but its organs will be men of a higher stamp. The present system, in which the arts are cultivated by special classes, must be abolished, as being wholly alien to that synthetic spirit which always characterizes the highest poetic genius.
Real talent for Art cannot fail to be called out by the educational