had however to make itself an object, to define itself, and in the process to pass from its own immediate substance to the secular content of the personal consciousness. In the first instance the infinite essence of personality was reposed in honour, love, and fidelity; after that in the particular individuality, the specific character which happened to coalesce with the particular mode of human life in question. This coalescence, together with the specific limitation of content appropriate to such, was finally put an end to by humour, which proved itself capable of dissolving or making pliable to its purpose any or every line of stable definition, and by so doing made it possible for art to transcend its own limitations. In this passing away of Art beyond itself, however, Art is quite as truly the return of man upon himself, a descent into his own soul-depths, by which process art strips off from itself every secure barrier set up by a determinate range of content and conception, and unfolds within our common humanity[327] its new holy of holies, in other words the depths and heights of the human soul simply, the universal shared of all men in joy and suffering, in endeavour, action, and destiny. From this point onwards it is from himself that the artist receives his content, is in truth the Spirit of man assigning to himself his own boundaries, contemplating, experiencing and giving utterance to the infinitude of his emotions and situations, a spirit to which nothing is any more alien which can possibly emanate as life from the human soul. A content of this nature is one which cannot persist under the defined modes of art independent and apart from the activity of the artist.
Rather the definition of content and its elaboration is transferred by it to the caprice of his invention. But, despite of this, it excludes no vital interest, because Art is no longer under constraint to represent that, and only that, which is completely at home in one of its specific grades. Everything is now possible as its subject-matter, in which man, on whatever plane of life he may be, possesses either the need or the capacity of making his abode.
Confronted with a material of such a wide range and multiplicity, it is above all of first importance that in respect to the mode of artistic treatment the Spirit that is now active in our present life should throughout declare itself as such. Our modern artist may no doubt join the company of ancients and elders. It is a fine thing to be one of the Homerides, though we stand last of the line; pictures, too, that reflect for us once again the atmosphere of romantic art in the Middle Ages will have a worth of their own. But this universal sufficiency, depth, and unique suitability of a given material such as we above described is another thing altogether, and equally so its mode of presentation. Neither Homer, Sophocles, Dante, Ariosto, nor Shakespeare can reappear in our times. What has been sung so greatly, what has been expressed with such freedom, has been sung and expressed once for all.
Only the Present blows fresh; all else is faded and more faded. In the matter of history we must fain make it something of a reproach to the French, and we may add to it a criticism on the score of beauty, that they have presented on their stage Greek and Roman heroes, Chinese, and Peruvians as so many French princes and princesses, and moreover have given them the motives and views peculiar to the age of Louis XIV or Louis XV. Yet, after all, had these very motives and opinions only been intrinsically deeper and more beautiful than they are we should have had little fault to find in the fact that the Past is here translated into Art's present life. On the contrary all material whatsoever, it matters not from what age or nation it hails, only retains its truth for art as part of this vital and actual Present, in which it floods the human heart with the reflected image of its own life, and brings truth home to man's senses and mind. It is just this revelation and renewed activity of that humanity which is immortal in all its varied significance and infinite reconstruction, which, in this its receptacle of human situations and emotions, forms the possible no less than the absolute content of the art of our time.
If we now take a glance back, having established in a general way the content which distinguishes the subject-matter of this portion of our inquiry, at that which we finally considered to be the modes of romantic art's dissolution, we may recall the fact that we then defined them under a term applicable to all, as the falling to pieces of Art, a process which, in one of its aspects, was due to an imitation of the objects of Nature in all the detail of their contingent appearance, and in another was referable to humour, that unfettered activity of the individual soul in all its capricious mastery. In conclusion, we may still draw attention to a further way of fixing on our minds that _terminus_ of romantic art without prejudice to our previous remarks upon it. In other words, just as in our advance from symbolism to classical art, we considered the transitional forms of image, simile, and epigram, we have also here in romantic art a form somewhat similar worthy of attention. In those previous modes of conception the important thing was the falling asunder of the spiritual significance and the external form, a severation which in part was cancelled by the activity of the artist's own mind, and in the exceptional case of the epigram could possibly be converted into complete identity.
Romantic art was from the beginning the profounder disunion of that inmost soul-life which finds its satisfaction in its own wealth, which, moreover, for the reason that generally the objective world does not completely satisfy the demand of Spirit essentially as such, persisted in its discordance with or indifference to it. This opposition in the evolution of romantic art finally led us perforce to the point where we found that the interest was exclusively centered on the contingent aspects of externality, or the equally capricious activity of the soul.
When, however, this exclusive attention to either side, whether it be the externality or purely personal presentment, agreeably to the main principle of romantic art, is carried so far that it becomes a real penetration of the soul within the object, and the aspect of humour in its relation to the object and its embodiment within the sphere of its own individual reaction[328] assumes a real importance, in that case we are face to face with what is a coalescence[329] with the object, and is nothing less than an _objective_ humour. Such a coalescence, however, can only be of limited range, and find expression merely, say, within a lyric, or at most in but a portion of a larger composition.
For if its boundaries widened, and it was carried throughout the object-matter in question, it would necessarily become identical with the action and event, become, in short, a completely objective representation. What we have to consider here is rather a sensitive self-abandonment of the artist's soul in his object, which no doubt is unfolded in some kind of process, but nevertheless remains a movement of the imagination and heart indicative rather of _individual_ genius; a caprice in some sort, and yet not entirely capricious or intentional, but rather a sympathetic expansion of the artist's genius, which devotes itself solely to its subject-matter, and makes it exclusively its interest and content.
We may usefully compare with such a spirit the last blooms of the ancient Greek epigram, in which this type appears in its first and simplest features. The mode we have here in our mind is in the first instance apparent when the reference to the object is not a mere statement of fact, is not merely an inscription or transcript which states what the object is, but is associated with a deeper emotion, a sleight of witticism, an ingenious fancy, or a real flash of imaginative power, any or all of which through their poetical grasp give life to and expand the minutest detail. Poems of this description, it matters little what their subject-matter may be, whether a tree, a mill-stream, spring, dead things or alive, are of infinite variety and may be found in the literature of all nations. They are, however, a subordinate grade of poetry, and very readily come off halting. For at least in a country of cultivated speech and reflection there are few objects and conditions, indeed, which will not offer some further link of association to every man. And just as the average man thinks himself qualified to write a letter he will rate his capacity to express such ideas. One is very easily tired of a universal spirit of sing-song such as this, even though a stray novelty of touch may be here and there thrown in. The importance of such a class of composition, therefore, depends almost entirely on the question how far the artist's soul, with its full intensity of life, and with a spiritual and intellectual wealth that is both profound and extensive, has without reserve entered vitally into such conditions, situations, and so forth; has made a home there, and from the object in question created something unseen before, something beautiful, something essentially worth our attention.
To this end the Persians and Arabians pre-eminently in the oriental splendour of their images, in the unfettered enjoyment of their imagination, which enters into the being of its subject-matter in the purest spirit of contemplation, offer, even for present times and our own intensity of spiritual penetration, a glorious exemplar. Both the Spaniards and Italians, too, have done excellent things in the same direction. It is true that Klopstock says of Petrarch: /$ --Laura besang Petrarca in Liedern, Zwar dem Bewunderer schön, aber dem Liebenden nicht[330].
$/ but Klopstock's own love-odes are themselves full of moral reflections, troubled yearning and passion that is for ever writhing after immortality of happiness. What we admire most in Petrarch is the free atmosphere of essentially noble emotion, which, however much it expresses the longing for the beloved, can none the less repose on its own heart. For this kind of longing, indeed sensual desire itself, is far from being absent in the range of the art we now are considering, when the subject is restricted to wine and love, the tavern and the glass; the excessive voluptuousness of the images of Persian writers themselves are in fact an illustration of this; but in this case the imagination, in the interest it possesses for the intelligence, removes the object entirely from the sphere of desire which has a practical aim. It possesses an interest merely in the realm of its own exuberant activity, finding its delight freely in its own countless freaks and fancies, and making joys and griefs alike the subject of its sport Among our modern poets the two who preeminently combine a similar buoyancy of genius with a more intimate and spiritually searching depth of imagination are Goethe in his "Westöstlicher Divan" and Rückert.
The essential contrast between Goethe's poetry in the "Divan" and his more early efforts is quite remarkable. In his "Welcome and Farewell," for instance, the language and description are no doubt fine in their way, true feeling is there. In other respects the situation is commonplace, the climax is poor, and of imagination in the full and free sense there is no further trace. The poem in the "Divan" entitled "Recovery"[331] is composed in a totally different spirit. Love is here wholly absorbed in the imagination, and the movement, happiness, and bliss of the latter are throughout predominant. And, to speak generally of artistic productions of this class, we may affirm that we find in them no personal craving, no indications of enamourment, no mere desire, but a pure delight in the objects delineated, an inexhaustible self-absorption of imagination, an innocent play, a free surrender to the coquettish humours even of rhyme and ingenious versification; and withal an intense jubilation of the soul in its own free movement, a spirit, which, by means of this very exhilaration induced by artistic form[332] lifts the soul high above all its painful perplexity into the ordered limits of the real.
And here we must close our consideration of the particular types according to which the Ideal of art throughout its process is self-differentiated. We have made these several modes the subject of a more extensive inquiry, with a view to unfolding the content of the same, a content from which the proper modes of artistic presentment are themselves also deducible. For in Art, too, as in all other human production, it is the content which is finally decisive. In fact Art, if we consider the true notion of it, has one and only one supreme function. It has to set forth in adequate form, within the grasp of our actual senses, what is itself essential content; and the Philosophy of Art should consequently regard it as its main business to comprehend in Thought what this abundance of content and its beautiful mode of manifestation verily is.
[Footnote 257: _Für andere_, that is for other spiritual beings than the absolute Spirit as such.]
[Footnote 259: _Aus dem Innern exzeugten._] [Footnote 260: _Sich in sich hineinbildend._ That is by continually supplying new modes to the subjective spiritual content--until we arrive at the almost purely spiritual mode of music.]
[Footnote 262: The phenomenal world of Nature.]
[Footnote 264: _Die Abentheuerlichkeit._ Hegel means that it is like the result of an adventure--unforeseen rather than "fantastic."]
[Footnote 266: That which supplies its own justification.]
[Footnote 267: Lit., unenclosed, that is open indefinitely and so undefined, unsounded.]
[Footnote 268: That is, it is open to extraneous causes that cannot be predicted from the mere essential notion of them.]
[Footnote 269: I presume this is the meaning of the expression _das [Footnote 270: _Pralle_--stiff, metallic in its steeply rigidity.]
[Footnote 271: Act I, sc. 5.]
[Footnote 272: _Miserabilität._ One of Hegel's own coinage.]
[Footnote 273: An unknown work to me.]
[Footnote 275: One is reminded of the Mohammedan fatalism. It is Allah.]
[Footnote 276: _In einfacher Gedrungenheit._ Hegel means that it is tightly self-sealed, that and nothing more.]
[Footnote 277: _Hineingelegtseyn._ The reference of the whole being to one object.]
[Footnote 278: This was the representation which took place in Berlin in 1820, with Mademoiselle Erelinger as Juliet.]
[Footnote 279: _List_, usually in depreciatory sense, here otherwise.]
[Footnote 280: With the exception, of course, of her presumed father Prospero.]
[Footnote 281: That is, a poetry based rather on the reflective faculty than the creative imagination.]
[Footnote 282: /$ "He saw it plunge, drink boldly, Then sink in sea-depths lost; And what his eyes saw loosed him, No drop the king drank more."
$/ ] [Footnote 283: _Lebensläufe in aufsteigender Linie._] [Footnote 284: _In sich totales, unbeschränktes Gemüth._ The expressions would appear to contradict one another, but the emphasis is on the unity of a whole which is itself not fully defined.]
[Footnote 285: It is not so much a third type as a way of looking at the previous ones.]
[Footnote 286: It is contingent, of course, to the individual. Hegel does not mean that it is without causality.]
[Footnote 287: The sphere of objective fact.]
[Footnote 288: From Nature, that is.]
[Footnote 289: _Ihres inneren Verlaufs._ I suppose Hegel means action under the aspect in which it forms a part of the individual development--regarded in its relation to will and consciousness.]
[Footnote 290: That is, the Christian community.]
[Footnote 291: _Den Menschen als Menschheit_, that is in his generally secular aspect.]
[Footnote 292: I presume this is the sense of _gebrochen_ here. But lower down it would mean apparently _discordant._] [Footnote 293: By "fantastic" Hegel seems to me to mean that which is based on a fancy or imagination that is wholly personal to the artist, and so adventitious in its results.]
[Footnote 294: _Sicheres Gemüth_--"consistent" both in its literal and metaphorical senses--one that holds together and is thus self-assured.]
[Footnote 295: _Das Romanhafte._ I cannot think of an English expression which exactly corresponds.]
[Footnote 296: _Sich schrauben_, like the winding smoke from a bottle--the corkscrew---ironical of course.]
[Footnote 297: One of the finest illustrations of such a universality of interest may be found in Ruskin's description of Tintoret's "Adoration of the Magi."]
[Footnote 298: _Genialität_ and _genial_ mean a good deal more than our English words geniality and genial--they refer directly to genius.]
[Footnote 299: _Das in sich Nothwendige._ The reference is mainly to the stricter principles of classical art.]
[Footnote 300: _Nach ihrer ganzen Inneren._] [Footnote 301: Lit., "Which possesses for its substantial content think no more is meant than "good sense"] and the morale of daily life (_des Tages_)."]
[Footnote 302: Lit., "That the material, so far as art appropriates it, be immanent and at home in that reality." _Immanent_ must I think refer back to _die vorliegende Werklichkeit._] [Footnote 304: That is it has no interest _quâ_ a natural object.]
[Footnote 305: _Scheinen_ must mean here natural rather than artistic appearance. Natural appearance is not _necessarily_ beautiful.]
[Footnote 306: _Des sick in sich vertiefenden Scheinens._ It is self-deepening in proportion to the _feiner Sinn_ below mentioned.]
[Footnote 307: I think this is the meaning of the expression _das Physikalische der Farbe_--not so much the material constituents of colour as the effect of colour on physical substances. But either interpretation makes sense.]
[Footnote 308: An artist unknown to me.]
[Footnote 309: _Gemüth_. I think Hegel uses the word here in the narrower sense rather than "soul" generally.]
[Footnote 311: Lit., "And arranges them side by side in an alien order." That is, under a principle of co-ordination which does not lie in the subject-matter.]
[Footnote 313: _Die Subjektivität des Kunstlers._ The expression as used here and below implies, of course, not so much the formal personality or character as the individual spirit and its resources.]
[Footnote 314: I presume this is the meaning of _von einem affirmativen Momente._] [Footnote 315: Lit., "Was at first posited as naught."]
[Footnote 316: That is, as an artist for whom it is _wahrhafter Ernst._] [Footnote 317: _Das Absolute_ here is, I think, referable to the subject-matter of art rather than to be taken as "the Absolute" simply.]
[Footnote 318: _Die Seele._ Perhaps "vital principle" would be better.]
[Footnote 319: That is, Spirit or mind.]
[Footnote 320: There is an uncorrected misprint here, _der_ should be _den_ and _tragen_ would be an improvement on _trägt._] [Footnote 321: I am not certain whether the subject is here the artist himself, or his mode of working. The context would suggest the latter, the better sense the former.]
[Footnote 322: Reflection has destroyed the _necessity_ of any particular form.]
[Footnote 323: That is the life of Spirit. _Das Heilige und Ewige._] [Footnote 324: _Bewusstlosen._ His spiritual nature in its unexplored universality is, I presume, the sense.]
[Footnote 325: _Als ihnen gemäss._ As adequate to their completely explicit nature.]
[Footnote 326: _Aber als leibliche unerinnerte Gegenwart._ I am not sure that I know precisely the sense here, unless it amounts to this that the Greek gods were without an historical memory. Their immortality swallowed up in its repose the sense of beings in time, and assumed to be in human bodily shape.]
[Footnote 327: _Zu ihrem neuen Heiligen den Humanus macht_, an uncommon phrase.]
[Footnote 328: _Innerhalt seines subjektiven Reflexes._ That is, the synthetic activity of humour's reflection.]
[Footnote 329: _Verinnigung_, a stronger word than _Vereinigung._] [Footnote 330: "Petrarch sang songs of his Laura. To him who wonders at beautiful songs they are beautiful, to the lover they are not so."]
[Footnote 332: I am not quite sure that _die Heiterkeit des Gestaltens_ does not mean "the buoyancy of the created form."]
END OF VOL. II