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Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.07/27/01*END* + + + + + +This Project Gutenberg Etext prepared by Tony Adam +Anthony-adam@tamu.edu + + + + + +The Psychology of Beauty + +by Ethel D. Puffer + + + + +PREFACE + +THE human being who thrills to the experience of beauty in +nature and in art does not forever rest with that experience +unquestioned. The day comes when he yearns to pierce the +secret of his emotion, to discover what it is, and why, that +has so stung him--to defend and to justify his transport to +himself and to others. He seeks a reason for the faith that +is in him. And so have arisen the speculative theories of +the nature of beauty, on the one hand, and the studies of +concrete beauty and our feelings about it, on the other. +Speculative theory has taken its own way, however, as a +part of philosophy, in relating the Beautiful to the other +great concepts of the True and the Good; building up an +architectonic of abstract ideas, far from the immediate +facts and problems of the enjoyment of beauty. There has +grown up, on the other hand, in the last years, a great +literature of special studies in the facts of aesthetic +production and enjoyment. Experiments with the aesthetic +elements; investigations into the physiological psychology +of aesthetic reactions; studies in the genesis and development +of art forms, have multiplied apace. But these are still +mere groups of facts for psychology; they have not been taken +up into a single authoritative principle. Psychology cannot +do justice to the imperative of beauty, by virtue of which, +when we say "this is beautiful," we have a right to imply +that the universe must agree with us. A synthesis of these +tendencies in the study of beauty is needed, in which the +results of modern psychology shall help to make intelligible +a philosophical theory of beauty. The chief purpose of this +book is to seek to effect such a union. + +A way of defining Beauty which grounds it in general principles, +while allowing it to reach the concrete case, is set forth in +the essay on the Nature of Beauty. The following chapters aim +to expand, to test, and to confirm this central theory, by +showing, partly by the aid of the aforesaid special studies, +how it accounts for our pleasure in pictures, music, and +literature. + +The whole field of beauty is thus brought under discussion; +and therefore, though it nowhere seeks to be exhaustive in +treatment, the book may fairly claim to be a more or less +consistent and complete aesthetic theory, and hence to +address itself to the student of aesthetics as well as to the +general reader. The chapter on the Nature of Beauty, indeed, +will doubtless be found by the latter somewhat technical, and +should be omitted by all who definitely object to professional +phraseology. The general conclusions of the book are +sufficiently stated in the less abstract papers. + +Of the essays which compose the following volume, the first, +third, and last are reprinted, in more or less revised form, +from the "Atlantic Monthly" and the "International Monthly." +Although written as independent papers, it is thought that +they do not unduly repeat each other, but that they serve to +verify, in each of the several realms of beauty, the truth +of the central theory of the book. + +The various influences which have served to shape a work of +this kind become evident in the reading; but I cannot refrain +from a word of thanks to the teachers whose inspiration and +encouragement first made it possible. I owe much gratitude +to Professor Mary A. Jordan and Professor H. Norman Gardiner +of Smith College, who in literature and in philosophy first +set me in the way of aesthetic interest and inquiry, and to +Professor Hugo Munsterberg of Harvard University, whose +philosophical theories and scientific guidance have largely +influenced my thought. + +WELLESLEY COLLEGE, April 24, 1905. + + + +CONTENTS + PAGE +I. CRITICISM AND AESTHETICS.............................1 +II. THE NATURE OF BEAUTY................................27 +III. THE AESTHETIC REPOSE................................57 +IV. THE BEAUTY OF FINE ART..............................89 + A. THE BEAUTY OF VISUAL FORM.....................91 + B. SPACE COMPOSITION AMONG THE OLD MASTERS......128 +V. THE BEAUTY OF MUSIC................................149 +VI. THE BEAUTY OF LITERATURE...........................203 +VII. THE NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS OF THE DRAMA............229 +VIII. THE BEAUTY OF IDEAS................................263 + + + +I +CRITICISM AND AESTHETICS + + + +THE PSYCHOLOGY OF BEAUTY + +I +CRITICISM AND AESTHETICS + +IT is not so long ago that the field of literary criticism +was divided into two opposing camps. France being the only +country in the world where criticism is a serious matter, +the battle waged most fiercely there, and doubtless greatly +served to bring about the present general interest and +understanding of the theoretical questions at issue. The +combatants were, of course, the impressionistic and scientific +schools of criticism, and particularly enlightening were the +more or less recent controversies between MM. Anatole France +and Jules Lemaitre as representatives of the first, and M. +Brunetiere as the chief exponent of the second. They have +planted their standards; and we see that they stand for +tendencies in the critical activity of every nation. The +ideal of the impressionist is to bring a new piece of +literature into being in some exquisitely happy characterization,-- +to create a lyric of criticism out of the unique pleasure of +an aesthetic hour. The stronghold of the scientist, on the +other hand, is the doctrine of literary evolution, and his +aim is to show the history of literature as the history of +a process, and the work of literature as a product; to explain +it from its preceding causes, and to detect thereby the general +laws of literary metamorphosis. + +Such are the two great lines of modern criticism; their purposes +and ideals stand diametrically opposed. Of late, however, there +have not been wanting signs of a spirit of reconciliation, and +of a tendency to concede the value, each in its own sphere, of +different but complementary activities. Now and again the +lion and the lamb have lain down together; one might almost say, +on reading a delightful paper of Mr. Lewis E. Gates on +Impressionism and Appreciation,<1> that the lamb had assimilated +the lion. For the heir of all literary studies, according to +Professor Gates, is the appreciative critic; and he it is who +shall fulfill the true function of criticism. He is to +consider the work of art in its historical setting and its +psychological origin, "as a characteristic moment in the +development of human spirit, and as a delicately transparent +illustration of aesthetic law." But, "in regarding the work +of art under all these aspects, his aim is, primarily, not to +explain, and not to judge or dogmatize, but to enjoy; to +realize the manifold charms the work of art has gathered unto +itself from all sources, and to interpret this charm imaginatively +to the men of his own day and generation." + +<1> Atlantic Monthly, July, 1900. + +Thus it would seem that if the report of his personal reactions +to a work of literary art is the intention of the impressionist, +and its explanation that of the scientist, the purpose of the +appreciative critic is fairly named as the illuminating and +interpreting reproduction of that work, from material furnished +by those other forms of critical activity. Must, then, the +method of appreciation, as combining and reconciling the two +opposed views, forthwith claim our adherence? To put to use +all the devices of science and all the treasures of scholarship +for the single end of imaginative interpretation, for the sake +of giving with the original melody all the harmonies of subtle +association and profound meaning the ages have added, is, indeed, +a great undertaking. But is it as valuable as it is vast? M. +Brunetiere has poured out his irony upon the critics who believe +that their own reactions upon literature are anything to us in +the presence of the works to which they have thrilled. May it +not also be asked of the interpreter if its function is a +necessary one? Do we require so much enlightenment, only to +enjoy? Appreciative criticism is a salt to give the dull +palate its full savor; but what literary epicure, what real +boo-lover, will acknowledge his own need of it? If the whole +aim of appreciative criticism is to reproduce in other +arrangement the contents, expressed and implied, and the +emotional value, original and derived, of a piece of literature, +the value of the end, at least to the intelligent reader, is +out of all proportion to the laboriousness of the means. Sing, +reading's a joy! For me, I read. + +But a feeling of this kind is, after all, not a reason to be +urged against the method. The real weakness of appreciative +criticism lies elsewhere. It teaches us to enjoy; but are we +to enjoy everything? Since its only aim is to reveal the +"intricate implications" of a work of art; since it offers, +and professes to offer, no literary judgments,--having indeed +no explicit standard of literary value,--it must, at least +on its own theory, take its objects of appreciation ready-made, +so to speak, by popular acclaim. It possesses no criterion; +it likes whate'er it looks on; and it can never tell us what +we are not to like. That is unsatisfactory; and it is worse,-- +it is self-destructive. For, not being able to reject, +appreciation cannot, in logic, choose the objects of its +attention. But a method which cannot limit on its own principles +the field within which it is to work is condemned from the +beginning; it bears a fallacy at its core. In order to make +criticism theoretically possible at all, the power to choose +and reject, and so the pronouncing of judgment, must be an +integral part of it. + +To such a task the critic may lend himself without arousing +our antagonism. We have no pressing need to know the latent +possibilities of emotion for us in a book or a poem; but whether +it is excellent or the reverse, whether "we were right in being +moved by it," we are indeed willing to hear, for we desire to +justify the faith that is in us. + +If, then, the office of the judge be an essential part of the +critical function, the appreciative critic, whatever his other +merits,--and we shall examine them later,--fails at least of +perfection. His scheme is not the ideal one; and we may turn +back, in our search for it, to a closer view of those which +his was to supersede. Impressionism, however, is at once out +of the running; it has always vigorously repudiated the notion +of the standard, and we know, therefore, that no more than +appreciation can it choose its material and stand alone. But +scientific criticism professes, at least, the true faith M. +Brunetiere holds that his own method is the only one by which +an impersonal and stable judgment can be rendered. + +The doctrine of the evolution of literary species is more or +less explained in naming it. Literary species, M. Brunetiere +maintains, do exist. They develop and are transformed into +others in a way more or less analogous to the evolution of +natural types. It remains to see on what basis an objective +judgment can be given. Although M. Brunetiere seems to make +classification the disposal of a work in the hierarchy of +species, and judgment the disposal of it in relation to others +of its own species, he has never sharply distinguished between +them; so that we shall not be wrong in taking his three +principles of classification, scientific, moral, and aesthetic, +as three principles by which he estimates the excellence of a +work. His own examples, indeed, prove that to him a thing is +already judged in being classified. The work of art is judged, +then, by its relation to the type. Is this position tenable? +I hold that, on the contrary, it precludes the possibility of +a critical judgment; for the judgment of anything always means +judgment with reference to the end for which is exists. A bad +king is not the less a bad king for being a good father; and +if his kingship is his essential function, he must be judged +with reference to that alone. Now a piece of literature is, +with reference to its end, first of all a work of art. It +represents life and it enjoins morality, but it is only as a +work of art that it attains consideration; that, in the words +of M. Lemaitre, it "exists" for us at all. Its aim is beauty, +and beauty is its excuse for being. + +The type belongs to natural history. The one principle at the +basis of scientific criticism is, as we have seen, the +conception of literary history as a process, and of the work +of art as a product. The work of art is, then, a moment in a +necessary succession, governed by laws of change and adaptation +like those of natural evolution. But how can the conception of +values enter here? Excellence can be attributed only to that +which attains an ideal end; and a necessary succession has no +end in itself. The "type," in this sense, is perfectly hollow. +To say that the modern chrysanthemum is better than that of +our forbears because it is more chrysanthemum-like is true only +if we make the latter form the arbitrary standard of the +chrysanthemum. If the horse of the Eocene age is inferior to +the horse of to-day, it is because, on M. Brunetiere's principle, +he is less horse-like. But who shall decide which is more like +a horse, the original or the latter development? No species +which is constituted by its own history can be said to have +an end in itself, and can, therefore, have an excellence to +which it shall attain. In short, good and bad can be applied +to the moments in a necessary evolution only by imputing a +fictitious superiority to the last term; and so one type cannot +logically be preferred to another. As for the individual +specimens, since the conception of the type does not admit the +principle of excellence, conformity thereto means nothing. + +The work of art, on the other hand, as a thing of beauty, is +an attainment of an ideal, not a product, and, from this point +of view, is related not at all to the other terms of a succession, +its causes and its effects, but only to the abstract principles +of that beauty at which it aims. Strangely enough, the whole +principle of this contention has been admitted by M. Brunetiere +in a casual sentence, of which he does not appear to recognize +the full significance. "We acknowledge, of course," he says, +"that there is in criticism a certain difference from natural +history, since we cannot eliminate the subjective element if +the capacity works of art have of producing impressions on us +makes a part of their definition. It is not in order to be +eaten that the tree produces its fruit." But this is giving +away his whole position! As little as the conformity of the +fruit to its species has to do with our pleasure in eating it, +just so little has the conformity of a literary work to its +genre to do with the quality by virtue of which it is defined +as art. + +The Greek temple is a product of Greek religion applied to +geographical conditions. To comprehend it as a type, we must +know that it was an adaptation of the open hilltop to the +purpose of the worship of images of the gods. But the most +penetrating study of the slow moulding of this type will never +reveal how and why just those proportions were chosen which +make the joy and the despair of all beholders. Early Italian +art was purely ecclesiastical in its origin. The exigencies +of adaptation to altars, convent walls, or cathedral domes +explain the choice of subjects, the composition, even perhaps +the color schemes (as of frescoes, for instance); and yet all +that makes a Giotto greater than a Pictor Ignotus is quite +unaccounted for by these considerations. + +The quality of beauty is not evolved. All that comes under +the category of material and practical purpose, of idea or of +moral attitude, belongs to the succession, the evolution, the +type But the defining characters of the work of art are +independent of time. The temple, the fresco, and the symphony, +in the moment they become objects of the critical judgment, +become also qualities of beauty and transparent examples of +its laws. + +If the true critical judgment, then, belongs to an order of +ideas of which natural science can take no cognizance, the +self-styled scientific criticism must show the strange paradox +of ignoring the very qualities by virtue of which a given work +has any value, or can come at all to be the object of aesthetic +judgment. In two words, the world of beauty and the world of +natural processes are incommensurable, and scientific criticism +of literary art is a logical impossibility. + +But the citadel of scientific criticism has yet one more +stronghold. Granted that beauty, as an abstract quality, is +timeless; granted that, in the judgment of a piece of literary +art, the standard of value is the canon of beauty, not the +type; yet the old order changeth. Primitive and civilized man, +the Hottentot and the Laplander, the Oriental and the Slav, +have desired differing beauties. May it, then, still be said +that although a given embodiment of beauty is to be judged +with reference to the idea of beauty alone, yet the concrete +ideal of beauty must wear the manacles of space and time,-- +that the metamorphoses of taste preclude the notion of an +objective beauty? And if this is true, are we not thrown +back again on questions of genesis and development, and a +study of the evolution, not of particular types of art, but +of general aesthetic feeling; and, in consequence, upon a +form of criticism which is scientific in the sense of being +based on succession, and not on absolute value? + +It is indeed true that the very possibility of a criticism +which shall judge of aesthetic excellence must stand or fall +with this other question of a beauty in itself, as an objective +foundation for criticism. If there is an absolute beauty, it +must be possible to work out a system of principles which shall +embody its laws,--an aesthetic, in other words; and on the basis +of that aesthetic to deliver a well-founded critical judgment. +Is there, then, a beauty in itself? And if so, in what does +it consist? + +We can approach such an aesthetic canon in two ways: from the +standpoint of philosophy, which develops the idea of beauty as +a factor in the system of our absolute values, side by side +with the ideas of truth and of morality, or from the standpoint +of empirical science. For our present purpose, we may confine +ourselves to the empirical facts of psychology and physiology. + +When I feel the rhythm of poetry, or of perfect prose, which +is, of course, in its own way, no less rhythmical, every +sensation of sound sends through me a diffusive wave of nervous +energy. I am the rhythm because I imitate it in myself. I +march to noble music in all my veins, even though I may be +sitting decorously by my own hearthstone; and when I sweep with +my eyes the outlines of a great picture, the curve of a Greek +vase, the arches of a cathedral, every line is lived over again +in my own frame. And when rhythm and melody and forms and +colors give me pleasure, it is because the imitating impulses +and movements that have arisen in me are such as suit, help, +heighten my physical organization in general and in particular. +It may seem somewhat trivial to say that a curved line is +pleasing because the eye is so hung as to move best in it; +but we may take it as one instance of the numberless conditions +for healthy action which a beautiful form fulfills. A well- +composed picture calls up in the spectator just such a balanced +relation of impulses of attention and incipient movements as +suits an organism which is also balanced--bilateral--in its +own impulses to movement, and at the same time stable; and it +is the correspondence of the suggested impulses with the +natural movement that makes the composition good. Besides the +pleasure from the tone relations,--which doubtless can be +eventually reduced to something of the same kind,--it is the +balance of nervous and muscular tensions and relaxations, of +yearnings and satisfactions, which are the subjective side of +the beauty of a strain of music. The basis, in short, of any +aesthetic experience--poetry, music, painting, and the rest-- +is beautiful through its harmony with the conditions offered +by our senses, primarily of sight and hearing, and through +the harmony of the suggestions and impulses it arouses with +the whole organism. + +But the sensuous beauty of art does not exhaust the aesthetic +experience. What of the special emotions--the gayety or +triumph, the sadness or peace or agitation--that hang about +the work of art, and make, for many, the greater part of their +delight in it? Those among these special emotions which belong +to the subject-matter of a work--like our horror at the picture +of an execution--need not here be discussed. To understand the +rest we may venture for a moment into the realm of pure +psychology. We are told by psychology that emotion is dependent +on the organic excitations of any given idea. Thus fear at the +sight of a bear is only the reverberation in consciousness of +all nervous and vascular changes set up instinctively as a +preparation for flight. Think away our bodily feelings, and +we think away fear, too. And set up the bodily changes and the +feeling of them, and we have the emotion that belongs to them +even without the idea, as we may see in the unmotived panics +that sometimes accompany certain heart disturbances. The same +thing, on another level, is a familiar experience. A glass of +wine makes merriment, simply by bringing about those organic +states which are felt emotionally as cheerfulness. Now the +application of all this to aesthetics is clear. All these +tensions, relaxations,--bodily "imitations" of the form,--have +each the emotional tone which belongs to it. And so if the +music of a Strauss waltz makes us gay, and Handel's Largo +serious, it is not because we are reminded of the ballroom or +of the cathedral, but because the physical response to the +stimulus of the music is itself the basis of the emotion. +What makes the sense of peace in the atmosphere of the Low +Countries? Only the tendency, on following those level lines +of landscape, to assume ourselves the horizontal, and the +restfulness which belongs to that posture. If the crimson of +a picture by Bocklin, or the golden glow of a Giorgione, or +the fantastic gleam of a Rembrandt speaks to me like a human +voice, it is not because it expresses to me an idea, but +because it impresses that sensibility which is deeper than +ideas,--the region of the emotional response to color and to +light. What is the beauty of the "Ulalume," or "Kubla Khan," +or "Ueber allen Gipfeln"? It is the way in which the form +in its exquisite fitness to our senses, and the emotion +belonging to that particular form as organic reverberation +therefrom, in its exquisite fitness to thought, create in us +a delight quite unaccounted for by the ideas which they +express. This is the essence of beauty,--the possession of +a quality which excites the human organism to functioning +harmonious with its own nature. + +We can see in this definition the possibility of an aesthetic +which shall have objective validity because founded in the +eternal properties of human nature, while it yet allows us to +understand that in the limits within which, by education and +environment, the empirical man changes, his norms of beauty +must vary, too. Ideas can change in interest and in value, +but these energies lie much deeper than the idea, in the +original constitution of mankind. They belong to the +instinctive, involuntary part of our nature. They are +changeless, just as the "eternal man" is changeless; and as +the basis of aesthetic feeling they can be gathered into a +system of laws which shall be subject to no essential +metamorphosis. So long as we laugh when we are joyful, and +weep when we are sick and sorry; so long as we flush with +anger, or grow pale with fear, so long shall we thrill to a +golden sunset, the cadence of an air, or the gloomy spaces +of a cathedral. + +The study of these forms of harmonious functioning of the +human organism has its roots, of course, in the science of +psychology, but comes, nevertheless, to a different flower, +because of the grafting on of the element of aesthetic value. +It is the study of the disinterested human pleasures, and, +although as yet scarcely well begun, capable of a most +detailed and definitive treatment. + +This is not the character of those studies so casually alluded +to by the author of "Impressionism and Appreciation," when he +enjoins on the appreciative critic not to neglect the literature +of aesthetics: "The characteristics of his [the artist's] +temperament have been noted with the nicest loyalty; and +particularly the play of his special faculty, the imagination, +as this faculty through the use of sensations and images and +moods and ideas creates a work of art, has been followed out +with the utmost delicacy of observation." But these are not +properly studies in aesthetics at all. To find out what is +beautiful, and the reason for its being beautiful, is the +aesthetic task; to analyze the workings of the poet's mind, +as his conception grows and ramifies and brightens, is no part +of it, because such a study takes no account of the aesthetic +value of the process, but only of the process itself. The +same fallacy lurks here, indeed, as in the confusion of the +scientific critic between literary evolution and poetic +achievement, and the test of the fallacy is this single fact: +the psychological process in the development of a dramatic +idea, for instance, is, and quite properly should be, from +the point of view of such analysis, exactly the same for a +Shakespeare and for the Hoyt of our American farces. + +The cause of the production of a work of art may indeed by +found by tracing back the stream of thought; but the cause +of its beauty is the desire and the sense of beauty in the +human heart. If a given combination of lines and colors is +beautiful, then the anticipation of the combination as +beautiful is what has brought about its incarnation. The +artist's attitude toward his vision of beauty, and the art +lover's toward that vision realized, are the same. The only +legitimate aesthetic analysis is, then, that of the relation +between the aesthetic object and the lover of beauty, and all +the studies in the psychology of invention--be it literary, +scientific, or practical invention--have no right to the +other name. + +Aesthetics, then, is the science of beauty. It will be +developed as a system of laws expressing the relation between +the object and aesthetic pleasure in it; or as a system of +conditions to which the object, in order to be beautiful, +must conform. It is hard to say where the task of the +aesthetician ends, and that of the critic begins; and for +the present, at least, they must often be commingled. But +they are defined by their purposes: the end and aim of one +is a system of principles; of the other, the disposal of a +given work with reference to those principles; and when the +science of aesthetics shall have taken shape, criticism will +confine itself to the analysis of the work into its aesthetic +elements, to the explanation (by means of the laws already +formulated) of its especial power in the realm of beauty, +and to the judgment of its comparative aesthetic value. + +The other forms of critical activity will then find their +true place as preliminaries or supplements to the essential +function of criticism. The study of historical conditions, +of authors' personal relations, of the literary "moment," +will be means to show the work of art "as in itself it really +is." Shall we then say that the method of appreciation, being +an unusually exhaustive presentment of the object as in itself +it really is, is therefore an indispensable preparation for +the critical judgment? The modern appreciator, after the +model limned by Professor Gates, was to strive to get, as it +were, the aerial perspective of a masterpiece,--to present it +as it looks across the blue depths of the years. This is +without doubt a fascinating study; but it may be questioned +if it does not darken the more important issue. For it is +not the object as in itself it really is that we at last +behold, but the object disguised in new and strange trappings. +Such appreciation is to aesthetic criticism as the sentimental +to the naive poet in Schiller's famous antithesis. The virtue +of the sentimental genius is to complete by the elements which +it derives from itself an otherwise defective object. So the +aesthetic critic takes his natural need of beauty from the +object; the appreciative critic seeks a further beauty outside +of the object, in his own reflections and fancies about it. +But if we care greatly for the associations of literature, we +Are in danger of disregarding its quality. A vast deal of +pretty sentiment may hang about and all but transmute the most +prosaic object. A sedan chair, an old screen, a sundial,--to +quote only Austin Dobson,--need not be lovely in themselves to +serve as pegs to hang a poem on; and all the atmosphere of the +eighteenth century may be wafted from a jar of potpourri. Read +a lyric instead of a rose jar, and the rule holds as well. The +man of feeling cannot but find all Ranelagh and Vauxhall in +some icily regular effusion of the eighteenth century, and will +take a deeper retrospective thrill from an old playbill than +from the play itself. And since this is so,--since the interest +in the overtones, the added value given by time, the value for +us, is not necessarily related to the value as literature of the +fundamental note,--to make the study of the overtones an +essential part of criticism is to be guilty of the Pathetic +Fallacy; that is, the falsification of the object by the +intrusion of ourselves,--the typical sentimental crime. + +It seems to me, indeed, that instead of courting a sense for +the aromatic in literature, the critic should rather guard +himself against its insidious approaches. Disporting himself +in such pleasures of the fancy, he finds it easy to believe, +and to make us believe, that a piece of literature gains in +intrinsic value from its power to stimulate his historical +sense. The modern appreciative critic, in short, is too likely +to be the dupe of his "sophisticated reverie,"--like an epicure +who should not taste the meat for the sauces. A master work, +once beautiful according to the great and general laws, never +becomes, properly speaking, either more or less so. If a piece +of art can take us with its own beauty, there is no point in +superimposing upon it shades of sentiment; if it cannot so +charm, all the rose-colored lights of this kind of appreciative +criticism are unavailing. + +The "literary" treatment of art, as the "emotional" treatment of literature,--for that is what "appreciation" and "interpretation" +really are,--can completely justify itself only as the crowning +touch of a detailed aesthetic analysis of those "order of +impression distinct in kind" which are the primary elements in +our pleasure in the beautiful. It is the absence--and not only +the absence, but the ignoring of the possibility--of such +analysis which tempts one to rebel against such phrases as those +of Professor Gates: "the splendid and victorious womanhood of +Titian's Madonnas," "the gentle and terrestrial grace of +motherhood in those of Andrea del Sarto," the "sweetly ordered +comeliness of Van Dyck's." One is moved to ask if the only +difference between a Madonna of Titian and one of Andrea is a +difference of temper, and if the important matter for the +critic of art is the moral conception rather than the visible +beauty. + +I cannot think of anything for which I would exchange the +enchanting volumes of Walter Pater, and yet even he is not the +ideal aesthetic critic whose duties he made clear. What he has +done is to give us the most exquisite and delicate of +interpretations. He has not failed to "disengage" the subtle +and peculiar pleasure that each picture, each poem or +personality, has in store for us; but of analysis and explanation +of this pleasure--of which he speaks in the Introduction to "The +Renaissance"--there is no more. In the first lines of his paper +on Botticelli, the author asks, "What is the peculiar sensation +which his work has the property of exciting in us?" And to +what does he finally come? "The peculiar character of Botticelli +is the result of a blending in him of a sympathy for humanity +in its uncertain conditions...with his consciousness of the +shadow upon it of the great things from which it sinks." But +this is not aesthetic analysis! It is not even the record of +a "peculiar sensation," but a complex intellectual interpretation. +Where is the pleasure in the irrepressible outline, fascinating +in its falseness,--in the strange color, like the taste of +olives, of the Spring and the Pallas? So, also, his great +passage on the Mona Lisa, his "Winckelmann," even his "Giorgione" +itself, are merely wonderful delineations of the mood of +response to the creations of the art in question. Such +interpretation as we have from Pater is a priceless treasure, +but it is none the less the final cornice, and not the corner +stone of aesthetic criticism. + +The tendency to interpretation without any basis in aesthetic +explanation is especially seen in the subject of our original +discussion,--literature. It is indeed remarkable how scanty +is the space given in contemporary criticism to the study of +an author's means to those results which we ourselves +experience. Does no one really care how it is done? Or are +they all in the secret, and interested only in the temperament +expressed or the aspect of life envisaged in a given work? +One would have thought that as the painter turned critic in +Fromentin at least to a certain extent sought out and dealt +with the hidden workings of his art, so the romancer or the +poet-critic might also have told off for us "the very pulse +of the machine." The last word has not been said on the +mysteries of the writer's art. We know, it may be, how the +links of Shakespeare's magic chain of words are forged, but +the same cannot be said of any other poet. We have studied +Dante's philosophy and his ideal of love; but have we found +out the secrets of his "inventive handling of rhythmical +language"? If Flaubert is univerally acknowledged to have +created a masterpiece in "Madame Bovary," should there not +be an interest for criticism in following out, chapter by +chapter, paragraph by paragraph, word by word, the meaning +of what it is to be a masterpiece? But such seems not to +be the case. Taine reconstructs the English temperament out +of Fielding and Dickens; Matthew Arnold, although he deals +more than others in first principles, never carries his +analysis beyond the widest generalizations, like the +requirement for "profound truth" and "high seriousness," +for great poetry. And as we run the gamut of contemporary +criticism, we find ever preoccupation with the personality +of the writers and the ideas of their books. I recall only +one example--the critical essays of Henry James--where the +craftsman has dropped some hints on the ideals of the +literary art; and even that, if I maybe allowed the bull, +in his novels rather than in his essays, for in critical +theory he is the most ardent of impressionists. Whatever +the cause, we cannot but allow the dearth of knowledge of, +and interest in, the peculiar subject-matter of criticism,-- +the elements of beauty in a work of literature. + +But although the present body of criticism consists rather +of preliminaries and supplements to what should be its real +accomplishment, these should not therefore receive the less +regard. The impressionist has set himself a definite task, +and he has succeeded. If not the true critic, he is an +artist in his own right, and he has something to say to the +world. The scientific critic has taken all knowledge for his +province; and although we hold that it has rushed in upon and +swamped his distinctly critical function, so long as we may +call him by his other name of natural historian of literature, +we can only acknowledge his great achievements. For the +appreciative critic we have less sympathy as yet, but the +"development of the luxurious intricacy and the manifold +implications of our enjoyment" may fully crown the edifice of +aesthetic explanation and appraisal of the art of every age. +But all these, we feel, do not fulfill the essential function; +the Idea of Criticism is not here. What the idea of criticism +is we have tried to work out: a judgment of a work of art on +the basis of the laws of beauty. That such laws there are, +that they exist directly in the relation between the material +form and the suggested physical reactions, and that they are +practically changeless, even as the human instincts are +changeless, we have sought to show. And if there can be a +science of the beautiful, then an objective judgment on the +basis of the laws of the beautiful can be rendered. The true +end of criticism, therefore, is to tell us whence and why the +charm of a work of art: to disengage, to explain, to measure, +and to certify it. And this explanation of charm, and this +stamping it with the seal of approval, is possible by the help, +and only by the help, of the science of aesthetics,--a science +now only in its beginning, but greatly to be desired in its +full development. + +How greatly to be desired we realize in divining that the +present dearth of constructive and destructive criticism, of +all, indeed, except interpretations and reports, is responsible +for the modern mountains of machine-made literature. Will not +the aesthetic critic be for us a new Hercules, to clear away +the ever growing heap of formless things in book covers? If +he will teach us only what great art means in literature; if +he will give us never so little discussion of the first +principles of beauty, and point the moral with some "selling +books," he will at least have turned the flood. There are +stories nowadays, but few novels, and plenty of spectacles, +but no plays; and how should we know the difference, never +having heard what a novel ought to be? But let the aesthetic +critic give us a firm foundation for criticism, a real +understanding of the conditions of literary art; let him teach +us to know a novel or a play when we see it, and we shall not +always mingle the wheat and the chaff. + + +II +THE NATURE OF BEAUTY + + +II +THE NATURE OF BEAUTY + +EVERY introduction to the problems of aesthetics begins by +acknowledging the existence and claims of two methods of +attack,--the general, philosophical, deductive, which starts +from a complete metaphysics and installs beauty in its place +among the other great concepts; and the empirical, or inductive, +which seeks to disengage a general principle of beauty from +the objects of aesthetic experience and the facts of aesthetic +enjoyment: Fechner's "aesthetics from above and from below." + +The first was the method of aesthetics par excellence. It was +indeed only through the desire of an eighteenth-century +philosopher, Baumgarten, to round out his "architectonic" of +metaphysics that the science received its name, as designating +the theory of knowledge in the form of feeling, parallel to +that of "clear," logical thought. Kant, Schelling, and Hegel, +again, made use of the concept of the Beautiful as a kind of +keystone or cornice for their respective philosophical edifices. +Aesthetics, then, came into being as the philosophy of the +Beautiful, and it may be asked why this philosophical aesthetics +does not suffice--why beauty should need for its understanding +also an aesthetics "von unten." + +The answer is not that no system of philosophy is universally +accepted, but that the general aesthetic theories have not, as +yet at least, succeeded in answering the plain questions of +"the plain man" in regard to concrete beauty. Kant, indeed, +frankly denied that the explanation of concrete beauty, or +"Doctrine of Taste," as he called it, was possible, while the +various definers of beauty as "the union of the Real and the +Ideal" "the expression of the Ideal to Sense," have done no +more than he. No one of these aesthetic systems, in spite of +volumes of so-called application of their principles to works +of art, has been able to furnish a criterion of beauty. The +criticism of the generations is summed up in the mild remark +of Fechner, in his "Vorschule der Aesthetik," to the effect +that the philosophical path leaves one in conceptions that, +by reason of their generality, do not well fit the particular +cases. And so it was that empirical aesthetics arose, which +does not seek to answer those plain questions as to the +enjoyment of concrete beauty down to its simplest forms, to +which philosophical aesthetics had been inadequate. + +But it is clear that neither has empirical aesthetics said +the last word concerning beauty. Criticism is still in a +chaotic state that would be impossible if aesthetic theory +were firmly grounded. This situation appears to me to be +due to the inherent inadequacy and inconclusiveness of +empirical aesthetics when it stands alone; the grounds of +this inadequacy I shall seek to establish in the following. + +Granting that the aim of every aesthetics is to determine +the Nature of Beauty, and to explain our feelings about it, +we may say that the empirical treatments propose to do this +either by describing the aesthetic object and extracting the +essential elements of Beauty, or by describing the aesthetic +experience and extracting the essential elements of aesthetic +feeling, thereby indicating the elements of Beauty as those +which effect this feeling. + +Now the bare description and analysis of beautiful objects +cannot, logically, yield any result; for the selection of +cases would have to be arbitrary, and would be at the mercy +of any objection. To any one who should say, But this is +not beautiful, and should not be included in your inventory, +answer could be made only by showing that it had such and +such qualities, the very, by hypothesis, unknown qualities +that were to be sought. Moreover, the field of beauty +contains so many and so heterogeneous objects , that the +retreat to their only common ground, aesthetic feeling, +appears inevitable. A statue and a symphony can be reduced +to a common denominator most easily if the states of mind +which they induce are compared. Thus the analysis of objects +passes naturally over to the analysis of mental states--the +point of view of psychology. + +There is, however, a method subsidiary to the preceding, which +seeks the elements of Beauty in a study of the genesis and the +development of art forms. But this leaves the essential +phenomenon absolutely untouched. The general types of aesthetic +expression may indeed have been shaped by social forces,-- +religious, commercial, domestic,--but as social products, not +as aesthetic phenomena. Such studies reveal to us, as it were, +the excuse for the fact of music, poetry, painting--but they +tell us nothing of the reason why beautiful rather than ugly +forms were chosen, as who should show that the bird sings to +attract its mate, ignoring the relation and sequence of the +notes. The decorative art of most savage tribes, for instance, +is nearly all of totemic origin, and the decayed and degraded +forms of snake, bird, bear, fish, may be traced in the most +apparently empty geometric patterns;--but what does this +discovery tell us of the essentially decorative quality of such +patterns or of the nature of beauty of form? The study of the +Gothic cathedral reveals the source of its general plan and of +its whole scheme of ornament in detailed religious symbolism. +Yet a complete knowledge of the character of the religious +feeling which impelled to this monumental expression, and of +the genesis of every element of structure, fails to account +for the essential beauty of rhythm and proportion in the +finished work. These researches, in short, explain the +reason for the existence, but not for the quality, of works +of art. + +Thus it is in psychology that empirical aesthetics finds its +last resort. And indeed, our plain man might say, the +aesthetic experience itself is inescapable and undeniable. +You know that the sight or the hearing of this thing gives +you a thrill of pleasure. You may not be able to defend the +beauty of the object, but the fact of the experience you have. +The psychologist, seeking to analyze the vivid and unmistakable +Aesthetic experience, would therefore proceed somewhat as +follows. He would select the salient characteristics of his +mental state in presence of a given work of art. He would then +study, by experiment and introspection, how the particular +sense-stimulations of the work of art in question could become +the psychological conditions of these salient characteristics. +Thus, supposing the aesthetic experience to have been described +as "the conscious happiness in which one is absorbed, and, as +it were, immersed in the sense-object,"<1> the further special +aim, in connection with a picture, for instance, would be to +show how the sensations and associated ideas from color, line, +composition, and all the other elements of a picture may, on +general psychological principles, bring about this state of +happy absorption. Such elements as can be shown to have a +direct relation to the aesthetic experience are then counted +as elements of the beauty of the aesthetic object, and such +as are invariable in all art forms would belong to the general +formula or concept of Beauty. + +<1> M.W. Calkins: An Introduction to Psychology, 1902, p. 278. + +This, it seems to me, is as favorable a way as possible of +stating the possibilities of an independent aesthetic psychology. + +Yet this method, as it works out, does not exhaust the problem +the solution of which was affirmed to be the aim of every +aesthetics. The aesthetic experience is very complex, and the +theoretical consequences of emphasizing this or that element +very great. Thus, if it were held that the characteristics of +the aesthetic experience could be given by the complete analysis +of a single well-marked case,--say, our impressions before a +Doric column, or the Cathedral of Chartres, or the Giorgione +Venus,--it could be objected that for such a psychological +experience the essential elements are hard to isolate. The +cathedral is stone rather than staff; it is three hundred +rather than fifty feet high. Our reaction upon these facts +may or may not be essentials to the aesthetic moment, and we +can know whether they are essentials only by comparison and +exclusion. It might be said, therefore, that the analysis of +a single, though typical, aesthetic experience is insufficient; +a wide induction is necessary. Based on the experience of many +people, in face of the same object? But to many there would +be no aesthetic experience. On that of one person, over an +extensive field of objects? How, then, determine the limits +of this field? Half of the dispute of modern aesthetics is +over the right to include in the material for this induction +various kinds of enjoyment which are vivid, not directly +utilitarian, but traditionally excluded from the field. Guyan, +for instance, in a charming passage of his "Problemes de +l'Esthetique Contemporaine," argues for the aesthetic quality +of the moment when, exhausted by a long mountain tramp, he +quaffed, among the slopes of the Pyrenees, a bowl of foaming +milk. The same dispute appears, in more complicated form, in +the conflicting dicta of the critics. + +If we do not know what part of our feeling is aesthetic feeling, +how can wee go farther? If the introspecting subject cannot +say, This is aesthetic feeling, it is logically impossible to +make his state of mind the basis for further advance. It is +clear that the great question is of what one has a right to +include in the aesthetic experience. But that one should have +such a "right" implies that there is an imperative element in +the situation, an absolute standard somewhere. + +It seems to me that the secret of the difficulty lies in the +nature of the situation, with which an empirical treatment +must necessarily fail to deal. What we have called "the +aesthetic experience" is really a positive toning of the +general aesthetic attitude. This positive toning corresponds +to aesthetic excellence in the object. But wherever the +concept of excellence enters, there is always the implication +of a standard, value, judgment. But where there is a standard +there is always an implicit a priori,--a philosophical foundation. + +If, then, a philosophical method is the last resort and the +first condition of a true aesthetics, what is the secret of its +failure? For that it has failed seems to be still the consensus +of opinion. Simply, I believe and maintain, the unreasonable +and illogical demand which, for instance, Fechner makes in the +words I have quoted, for just this immediate application of a +philosophical definition to concrete cases. Who but an Hegelian +philosopher, cries Professor James, ever pretended that reason +in action was per se a sufficient explanation of the political +changes in Europe? Who but an Hegelian philosopher, he might +add, ever pretended that "the expression of the Idea to Sense" +was a sufficient explanation of the Sistine Madonna? But I +think the Hegelian--or other--philosopher might answer that he +had no need so to pretend. Such a philosophical definition, +as I hope to show, cannot possibly apply to particular cases, +and should not be expected to do so. + +Beauty is an excellence, a standard, a value. But value is +in its nature teleological; is of the nature of purpose. +Anything ha value because it fulfills an end, because it is +good for something in the world. A thing is not beautiful +because it has value,--other things have that,--it has value +because it is beautiful, because it fulfills the end of Beauty. +Thus the metaphysical definition of Beauty must set forth what +this end of Beauty is,--what it serves in the universe. + +But to determine what anything does, or fulfills, or exemplifies, +is not the same as to determine what it is in itself. The most +that can be said is that the end, or function, shapes the means +or constitution. The end is a logical imperative. Beauty does, +and must do, such things. To ask how, is at once to indicate +an ultimate departure from the philosophical point of view; for +the means to an end are different, and to be empirically +determined. + +Now the constitution of Beauty can be only the means to the +end of Beauty,--that combination of qualities in the object +which will bring about the end fixed by philosophical definition. +The end is general; the means may be different kinds. Evidently, +then, the philosophical definition cannot be applied directly to +the object until the possibilities, conditions, and limitations +of that object's fitness for the purpose assigned are known. We +cannot ask, Does the Sistine Madonna express the Idea of Sense? +until we know all possibilities and conditions of the visual for +attaining that expression. But, indeed, the consideration of +causes and effects suggests at once that natural science must +guide further investigation. Philosophy must lay down what +Beauty has to do, but since it is in our experience of Beauty +that its end is accomplished, since the analysis of such +experience and the study of its contributing elements is a work +of the natural science of such experience--it would follow that psychology must deal with the various means through which this +end is to be reached. + +Thus we see that Fechner's reproach is unjustified. Those concepts +which are too general to apply to particular cases are not meant +to do so. If a general concept expresses, as it should, the place +of Beauty in the hierarchy of metaphysical values, it is for the +psychologist of aesthetics to develop the means by which that end +can be reached in the various realms in which works of art are +found. + +Nor can we agree with Santayana's dictum<1> that philosophical +aesthetics confuses the import of an experience with the +explanation of its cause. It need not. The aesthetic experience +is indeed caused by the beautiful object, but the beautiful object +itself is caused by the possibility of the aesthetic experience,-- +beauty as an end under the conditions of human perception. Thus +the Nature of Beauty is related to its import, or meaning, or +end, as means to that end; and therefore the import of an +experience may well point out to us the constitution of the cause +of that experience. A work of art, a piece of nature, is judged +by its degree of attainment to that end; the explanation of its +beauty--of its degree of attainment, that is--is found in the +effect of its elements, according to psychological laws, on the +aesthetic subject. + +<1> The Sense of Beauty, 1898. Intro. + +Such a psychological study of the means by which the end of +Beauty is attained is the only method by which we can come to +an explanation of the wealth of concrete beauty. The concept +of explanation, indeed, is valid only within the realm of +causes and effects. The aim of aesthetics being conceded, as +above, to be the determination of the Nature of Beauty and the +explanation of our feelings about it, it is evident at this +point that the Nature of Beauty must be determined by philosophy; +but the general definition having been fixed, the meaning of the +work of art having been made clear, the only possible explanation +of our feelings about it--the aesthetic experience, in other +words--must be gained from psychology. This method is not open +to the logical objections against the preceding. No longer need +we ask what has a right to be included in the aesthetic experience. +That has been fixed by the definition of Beauty. But how the +beautiful object brings about the aesthetic experience, the +boundaries of which are already known, is clearly matter for +psychology. + +The first step must then be to win the philosophical definition +of Beauty. It was Kant, says Hegel, who spoke the first rational +word concerning Beauty. The study of his successors will reveal, +I believe, that the aesthetic of the great system of idealism +forms, on the whole, one identical doctrine. It is worth while +to dwell somewhat on this point, because the traditional view of +the relation of the aesthetic of Kant, Schiller, Schelling, and +Hegel is otherwise. Kant's starting-point was the discovery of +the normative, "over-individual" nature of Beauty, which we have +just found to be the secret of the contradictions of empirical +aesthetics. Yet he came to it at the bidding of quite other +motives. + +Kant's aesthetics was meant to serve as the keystone of the +arch between sense and reason. The discovery of all that is +implicit in the experience of the senses had led him to deny +the possibility of knowledge beyond the matter of this experience. +Yet the reason has an inevitable tendency to press beyond this +limit, to seek all-embracing, absolute unities,--to conceive +an unconditioned totality. Thus the reason presents us with +the ideas--beyond all possibility of knowledge--of the Soul, +the World, and God. In the words of Kant, the Ideas of Reason +lead the understanding to the consideration of Nature according +to a principle of completeness, although it can never attain +to this. Can there be a bridge across this abyss between sense +and reason? then asks Kant; which bridge he believes himself +to have found in the aesthetic faculty. For on inquiring what +is involved in the judgment, "This is beautiful," he discovers +that such a judgment is "universal" and "necessary," inasmuch +as it implies that every normal spectator must acknowledge its +validity, that it is "disinterested" because it rests on the +"appearance of the object without demanding its actual +existence," and that it is "immediate" or "free," as it +acknowledges the object as beautiful without definite purpose, +as of adaptation to use. But how does this judgment constitute +the desired bond between sense and reason? Simply in that, +though applied to an object of the senses, it has yet all the +marks of the Idea of Reason,--it is universal, necessary, free, +unconditioned; it is judged as if it were perfect, and so +fulfills those demands of reason which elsewhere in the world +of sense are unsatisfied. + +The two important factors, then, of Kant's aesthetics are its +reconciliation of sense and reason in beauty, and its reference +of the "purposiveness" of beauty to the cognitive faculty. + +Schiller has been given the credit of transcending Kant's +"subjective" aesthetic through his emphasis on the significance +of the beautiful object. It is not bound by a conception to +which it must attain, so that it is perceived as if it were +free. Nor do we desire the reality of it to use for ourselves +or for others; so that we are free in relation to it. It, the +object, is thus "the vindication of freedom in the world of +phenomena," that world which is otherwise a binding necessity. +But it would seem that this had been already taught by Kant +himself, and that Schiller has but enlivened the subject by +his two illuminating phrases, "aesthetic semblance" and the +"play-impulse," to denote the real object of the aesthetic +desire and the true nature of that desire; form instead of +material existence, and a free attitude instead of serious +purpose. Still, his insistence on Beauty as the realization +of freedom may be said to have paved the way for Schelling's +theory, in which the aesthetic reaches its maximum of +importance. + +The central thought of the Absolute Idealism of Schelling is +the underlying identity of Nature and the Self. In Nature, +from matter up to the organism, the objective factor +predominates, or, in Schelling's phrase, the conscious self +is determined by the unconscious. In morality, science, the +subjective factor predominates, or the unconscious is +determined by the conscious. But the work of art is a natural +appearance and so unconscious, and is yet the product of a +conscious activity. It gives, then, the equilibrium of the +real and ideal factors,--just that repose of reconciliation +or "indifference" which alone can show the Absolute. But-- +and this is of immense importance for our theory--in order +to explain the identity of subject and object, the Ego must +have an intuition, through which, in one and the same +appearance, it is in itself at once conscious and unconscious, +and this condition is given in the aesthetic experience. The +beautiful is thus the solution of the riddle of the universe, +for it is the possibility of the explicit consciousness of +the unity of Nature and the Self--or the Absolute. + +So Beauty is again the pivot on which a system turns. Its +place is not essentially different from that which it held +in the systems of Kant and Schiller. As the objective +possibility for the bridge between sense and reason, as the +vindication of freedom in the phenomenal world, and as +vindication of the possible unity of the real and the ideal, +or nature and self, the world-elements, its philosophical +significance is nearly the same. + +With Hegel Beauty loses little of its commanding position. +The universe is in its nature rational; Thought and Being +are one. The world-process is a logical process; and nature +and history, in which spirit of the world realizes itself, +are but applied logic. The completely fulfilled or expressed +Truth is then the concrete world-system; at the same time the +life or self of the universe; the Absolute. This Hegel calls +the Idea, and he defines Beauty as the expression of the Idea +to sense. + +This definition would seem to be as to the letter in accord +with the general tendency as have already outlined. It might +be said that it is but another phrasing of Schelling's thought +of the Absolute as presented to the Ego in Beauty. But not +so. For Schelling, the aesthetic is a schema or form,--that +is, the form of balance, equilibrium, reconciliation of the +rational ideal,--not a content. But Hegel's Beauty expresses +the Idea by the way of information or association. That this +is true any one of his traditional examples makes evident. +Correggio's Madonna of the St. Sebastian is found by him +inferior to the Sistine Madonna. Why? "In the first picture +we have the dearest and loveliest of human relations consecrated +by contrast with what is Divine. In the second picture we have +the Divine relation itself, showing itself under the limitations +of the human."<1> Dutch painting, he tells us, ought not to +be despised; "for it is this fresh and wakeful freedom and +vitality of mind in apprehension and presentation that forms +the highest aspect of these pictures." And a commentator adds, +"The spontaneous joy of the perfect life is figured to this +lower sphere." His whole treatment of Art as a symbol confirms +this view, as do all his criticisms. Art or Beauty shall +reveal to our understanding the eternal Ideal. + +<1> Kedney's Hegel's _Aesthetics_, 1892, p. 158. + +On comparing this with what we have won from Kant, Schiller, +and Schelling, the divergence becomes apparent. I have tried +to show that there is no essential difference between these +three either in their general view of the aesthetic experience, +or in the degree of objectivity of their doctrine of Beauty. +They do not contradict one another. They merely emphasize +now the unity, now the reconciliation of opposites, in the +aesthetic experience. The experience of the beautiful +constitutes a reconciliation of the warring elements of +experience, in a world in which the demands of Reason seem +to conflict with the logic of events, and the beautiful object +is such that it constitutes the permanent possibility for this +reconciliation. + +But the attempt to include Hegel within this circle reveals +at once the need of further delimitation. The beautiful is +to reveal, and to vindicate in revealing, the union of the +world-elements, that is, the spirit of the world. On Hegel's +own principles, the Idea should be "expressed to sense." Now +if this expression is not, after all, directly to sense, but +the sense gives merely the occasion for passing over to the +thought of the Divine, it would seem that the Beauty is not +after all in the work of art, but out of it. The Infinite, +or the Idea, or the fusion of real and ideal, must be shown +to sense. + +Is there any way in which this is conceivable? We cannot +completely express to sense Niagara Falls or the Jungfrau, +for they are infinitely beyond the possibilities of imitation. +Yet the particular contour of the Jungfrau is never mistaken +in the smallest picture. In making a model of Niagara we +should have to reproduce the relation between body of water, +width of stream, and height of fall, and we might succeed in +getting the peculiar effect of voluminousness which marks +that wonder of Nature. The soaring of a lark is not like +the pointing upward of a slender Gothic spire, yet there is +a likeness in the attitudes with which we follow them. All +these cases have certain form-qualities in common, by virtue +of which they resemble each other. Now it is these very +form-qualities which Kant is using when he takes the aesthetic +judgment as representative of reason in the world of sense +because it shows the qualities of the ideas of reason,--that +is, unconditional totality or freedom. And we might, indeed, +hope to "express the Idea to sense" if we could find for it +a form-quality, or subjectively, in the phrase of Kant, a +form of reflection. + +What is the form of reflection for the Absolute, the Idea? +It would appear to be a combination of Unity and Totality-- +self-completeness. An object, then, which should be self- +complete from all possible points of view, to which could +be applied the "form of reflection" for the Absolute, would, +therefore, alone truly express it, and so alone fulfill the +end of Beauty. The Idea would be there in its form; it +would be shown to sense, and so first full expressed. + +With this important modification of Hegel's definition of +Beauty, which brings it into line with the point of view +already won, I believe the way is at last opened from the +traditional philosophy of aesthetics to a healthy and concrete +psychological theory. + +But must every self-complete object give rise to the aesthetic +experience? An object is absolutely self-complete only for +the perceiving subject; it is so, in other words, only when +it produces a self-complete experience for that subject. If +reconciliation of the warring elements of the universe is the +end of Beauty it must take place not for, but in, the human +personality; it must not be understood, but immediately, +completely experienced; it should be realized in the subject +of the aesthetic experience, the lover of beauty. The +beautiful object would be not that which should show in +outline form, or remind of, this Unity of the World, but +which should create for the subject the moment of self- +completeness; which should inform the aesthetic subject with +that unity and self-completeness which are the "forms of +reflection" of the Infinite. The subject should be not a +mirror of perfection, but a state of perfection. Only in +this sense does the concept of reconciliation come to its +full meaning. Not because I see freedom, but because I am +free; not because I think of God, or the Infinite, or the +one, but because I am for the moment complete, at the +highest point of energy and unity, does the aesthetic +experience constitute such a reconciliation. + +Not because I behold the Infinite, but because I have, myself, +a moment of perfection. Herein it is that our theory constitutes +a complete contradiction to all "expression" or "significant" +theories of the Beautiful, and does away with the necessity those +theories are under of reading sermons into stones. The yellow +primrose needs not to remind us of the harmony of the universe, +or to have ulterior significance whatever, if it gives by its +own direct simple stimulation a moment of Unity and Self- +completeness. That immediate experience indeed contains in +itself the "form of reflection" of the Absolute, and it is +through this that we so often pass, in the enjoyment of Beauty, +to the thought of the divine. But that thought is a corollary, +a secondary effect, not an essential part of the aesthetic +moment. There is a wonderful bit of unconscious aesthetics in +the following passage from Senancour, touching the "secret of +relation" we have just analyzed. + +"It was dark and rather cold. I was gloomy, and walked because +I had nothing to do. I passed by some flowers placed breast- +high upon a wall. A jonquil in bloom was there. It is the +strongest expression of desire: it was the first perfume of +the year. I felt all the happiness destined for man. This +unutterable harmony of souls, the phantom of the ideal world, +arose in me complete. I never felt anything so great or so +instantaneous. I know not what shape, what analogy, what +secret of relation it was that made me see in this flower a +limitless beauty.... I shall never inclose in a conception this +power, this immensity that nothing will express; this form that +nothing will contain; this ideal of a better world which one +feels, but which it would seem that nature has not made."<1> + +<1> Translation by Carleton Noyes: _The Enjoyment of Art_, 1903, +p. 65. + +Our philosophical definition of Beauty has thus taken final +shape. The beautiful object possesses those qualities which +bring the personality into a state of unity and self-completeness. +Lightly to case aside such a definition as abstract, vague, +Empty, is no less short sighted than to treat the idea of the +Absolute Will, of the Transcendental Reason, of the Eternal +Love, as mere intellectual factors in the aesthetic experience. +It should not be criticised as giving "no objective account of +the nature and origin of Beauty." The nature of Beauty is +indicated in the definition; the origin of Beauty may be studied +in its historical development; its reason for being is simply +the desire of the human heart for the perfect moment. + +Beauty is to bring unity and self-completeness into the +personality. By what means? What causes can bring about this +effect? When we enter the realm of causes and effects, however, +we have already left the ground of philosophy, and it is fitting +that the concepts which we have to use should be adapted to the +empirical point of view. The personality, as dealt with in +psychology, is but the psychophysical organism; and we need to +know only how to translate unity and self-completeness into +psychological terms. + +The psychological organism is in a state of unity either when +it is in a state of virtual congealment or emptiness, as in a +trance or ecstasy; or when it is in a state of repose, without +tendency to change. Secondly, the organism is self-complete when +it is at the highest possible point of tone, of functional +efficiency, of enhanced life. Then a combination of favorable +stimulation and repose would characterize the aesthetic feeling. + +But it may be said that stimulation and repose are contradictory +concepts, and we must indeed admit that the absolute repose of +the hypnotic trance is not aesthetic, because empty of stimulus. +The only aesthetic repose is that in which stimulation resulting +in impulse to movement or action is checked or compensated for +by its antagonistic impulse; inhibition of action, or action +returning upon itself, combined with heightening of tone. But +this is TENSION, EQUILIBRIUM, or BALANCE OF FORCES, which is thus +seen to be A GENERAL CONDITION OF ALL AESTHETIC EXPERIENCE. The +concept is familiar in pictorial composition and to some extent +also in music and poetry, but here first appears as grounded in +the very demand for the union of repose with activity. + +Moreover, this requirement, which we have derived from the +logical concepts of unity and totality, as translated into +psychological terms, receives confirmation from the nature of +organic life. It was the perfect moment that we sought, and we +found it in the immediate experience of unity and self-completeness; +and unity for a living being CAN only be equilibrium. Now it +appears that an authoritative definition of the general nature of +an organism makes it "so built, whether on mechanical principles +or not, that every deviation from the equilibrium point sets up +a tendency to return to it."<1> Equilibrium, in greater or less +excursions from the centre, is thus the ultimate nature of +organic life. The perfect equilibrium, that is, equilibrium with +heightened tone, will then give the perfect moment. + +<1> L.T. Hobhouse, _Mind in Evolution_. + +The further steps of aesthetics are then toward analysis of the +psychological effect of all the elements which enter into a +work of art, with reference to their effect in producing +stimulation or repose. What colors, forms, tones, emotions, +ideas, favorably stimulate? What combinations of these bring +to repose? All the modern studies in so-called physiological +aesthetics, into the emotional and other--especially motor-- +effects of color, tone-sensation, melodic sequence, simple +forms, etc., find here there proper place. + +A further important question, as to the fitting psychological +designation of the aesthetic state, is now suggested. Some +authorities speak of the aesthetic attitude or activity, +describing it as "sympathetic imitation" or "absorption;" +others of the aesthetic pleasure. But, according to our +definition of the aesthetic experience as a combination of +favorable stimulation with repose, this state, as involving +"a distinctive feeling-tone and a characteristic trend of +activity aroused by a certain situation,"<1> can be no other +than an emotion. This view is confirmed by introspection; we +speak of aesthetic activity and aesthetic pleasure, but we +are conscious of a complete arrest, and sometimes of a very +distinct divergence from pure pleasure. The experience is +unique, it seems to defy description, to be intense, vivid, +and yet--like itself alone. Any attempt to disengage special, +already known emotions, even at the play or in hearing music, +is often in vain, in just those moments when our excitement is +most intense. But the hypothesis of a unique emotion, parallel +to those of joy, fear, etc., and with a psychological basis as +outlined, would account for these facts. The positive toning +of the experience--what we call aesthetic pleasure--is due not +only to the favorable stimulation, but also to the fact that +the very antagonism of impulses which constitutes repose +heightens tone while it inhibits action. Thus the conditions +of both factors of aesthetic emotion tend to induct pleasure. + +<1> Baldwin's _Dict. Of Phil. And Psychol._ Art. "Emotion." + +It is, then, clear that no specific aesthetic pleasure need be +sought. The very phrase, indeed, is a misnomer, since all +pleasure is qualitatively the same, and differentiated only +by the specific activities which it accompanies. It is also +to be noted that those writers on aesthetics who have dwelt +most on aesthetic pleasure have come in conclusion only to +specific activities, like the "imitation" of Groos, for instance. +In the light of the just-won definition of aesthetic emotion, +it is interesting to examine some of the well-known modern +aesthetic theories. + +Lipps defines the aesthetic experience as a "thrill of sympathetic +feeling," Groos as "sympathetic imitation," evidently assuming +that pleasure accompanies this. But there are many feelings of +sympathy, and joyful ones, which do not belong to the aesthetic +realm. In the same way, not all "imitation" is accompanied by +pleasure, and not all of that falls within the generally accepted +aesthetic field. If these definitions were accepted as they +stand, all our rejoicings with friends, all our inspiration from +a healthy, magnetic presence must be included in it. It is clear +that further limitation is necessary; but if to this sympathetic +imitation, this living through in sympathy, we add the demand +for repose, the necessary limitation is made. Physical exercise +in general, or the instinctive imitation of energetic, or easy +(in general FAVORABLE) movements, is pleasurable, indeed, but +the experience is not aesthetic,--as is quite clear, indeed, to +common sense,--and it is not aesthetic because it is the +contradiction of repose. A particular case of the transformation +of pleasurable physical exercise into an aesthetic activity is +seen in the experience of symmetrical or balanced form; any +moderate, smooth exercise of the eye is pleasurable, but this +alone induces a state of the whole organism combining repose with +stimulation. + +The theories of Kulpe and Santayana, while they definitely mark +out the ground, seem to me in need of addition. "Absorption in +the object in respect to its bare quality and conformation" does +not, of course, give the needed information, for objective beauty, +of the character of this conformation or form. But yet, it might +be said that the content of beauty might conceivably be deduced +from the psychological conditions of absorption. In the same +way, Santayana's "Beauty as objectified pleasure," or pleasure as +the quality of a thing, is neither a determination of objective +beauty nor a sufficient description of the psychological state. +Yet analysis of those qualities in the thing that cause us to +make our pleasure a quality of it would supplement the definition +sufficiently and completely in the sense of our own formula. Why +do we regard pleasure as the quality of a thing? Because there +is something in the thing that makes us spread, as it were, our +pleasure upon it. This is that which fixates us, arrests us, +upon it,--which can be only the elements that make for repose. + +Guyau, however, comes nearest to our point of view. "The beautiful +is a perception or an action which stimulates life within us under +its three forms simultaneously (i.e., sensibility, intelligence, +and will) and produces pleasure by the swift consciousness of this +general stimulation."<1> It is from this general stimulation that +Guyau explains the aesthetic effect of his famous drink of milk +among mountain scenes. But such general stimulation might +accompany successful action of any kind, and thus the moral and +the aesthetic would fall together. That M. Guyau is so successful +in his analysis is due rather to the fact that just this diffused +stimulation is likely to come from such exercise as is +characterized by the mutual checking of antagonistic impulses +producing an equilibrium. The diffusion of stimulation would be +our formula for the aesthetic state only if interpreted as +stimulation arresting action. + +<1> _Problemes de l'Esthetique Contemporaine_ 1902, p. 77. + +The diffusion of stimulation, the equilibrium of impulses, life- +enhancement through repose!--this is the aesthetic experience. +But how, then, it will be asked, are we to interpret the temporal +arts? A picture or a statue maybe understood through this formula, +but hardly a drama or a symphony. If the form of the one is +symmetry, hidden or not, would not the form of the other be +represented by a straight line? That which has beginning, middle, +and end is not static but dynamic. + +Let us consider once more the concept of equilibrium. Inhibition +of action through antagonistic impulses, or action returning upon +itself, we have defined it; and the line cannot be drawn sharply +between these types. The visual analogue for equilibrium may be +either symmetrical figure or circle; the excursion from the +centre may be either the swing of the pendulum or the sweep of +the planet. The RETURN is the essential. Now it is a commonplace +of criticism--though the significance of the dictum has never been +sufficiently seen--that the great drama, novel, or symphony does +return upon itself. The excursion is merely longer, of a different +order of impulses from that of the picture. The last note is the +only possible answer to the first; it contains the first. The +last scene has meaning only as the satisfaction of the first. The +measure of the perfection of a work of temporal art is thus its +IMPLICIT character. The end is contained in the beginning--that +is the meaning of "inevitableness." + +That the constraining power of drama or symphony is just this +sense of urgency, of compulsion, from one point to another, is +but confirmation of this view. The temporal art tries ever to +pass from first to last, which is first. It yearns for unity. +The dynamic movement of the temporal arts is cyclic, which is +ultimately static, of the nature of equilibrium. It is only in +the wideness of the sweep that the dynamic repose of poetry and +music differs from the static activity of picture and statue. + +Thus the Nature of Beauty is in the relation of means to an end; +the means, the possibilities of stimulation in the motor, visual, +auditory, and purely ideal fields; the end, a moment of perfection, +of self-complete unity of experience, of favorable stimulation +with repose. Beauty is not perfection; but the beauty of an +object lies in its permanent possibility of creating the perfect +moment. The experience of this moment, the union of stimulation +and repose, constitutes the unique aesthetic emotion. + + +III +THE AESTHETIC REPOSE + + +III +THE AESTHETIC REPOSE + +THE popular interest in scientific truth has always had its +hidden spring in a desire for the marvelous. The search for +the philosopher's stone has done as much for chemistry as the +legend of the elixir of life for exploration and geographical +discovery. From the excitements of these suggestions of the +occult, the world settled down into a reasonable understanding +of the facts of which they were but the enlarged and grotesque +shadows. + +So it has been with physics and physiology, and so also, +preeminently, with the science of mental life. Mesmerism, +hypnotism, the facts of the alteration, the multiplicity, and +the annihilation of personality have each brought us their +moments of pleasurable terror, and passed thus into the field +of general interest. But science can accept no broken chains. +For all the thrill of mystery, we may not forget that the +hypnotic state is but highly strung attention,--at the last +turn of the screw,--and that the alternation of personality is +after all no more than the highest power of variability of +mood. In regard to the annihilation of the sense of personality, +it may be said that no connection with daily experience is at +first apparent. Scientists, as well as the world at large, +have been inclined to look on the loss of the sense of personality +as pathological; and yet it may be maintained that it is +nevertheless the typical form of those experiences we ourselves +regard as the most valuable. + +The loss of personality! In that dread thought there lies, to +most of us, all the sting of death and the victory of the grave. +It seems, with such a fate in store, that immortality were +futile, and life itself a mockery. Yet the idea, when dwelt +upon, assumes an aspect of strange familiarity; it is an old +friend, after all. Can we deny that all our sweetest hours are +those of self-forgetfulness? The language of emotion, religious, +aesthetic, intellectually creative, testifies clearly to the +fading of the consciousness of self as feeling nears the white +heat. Not only in the speechless, stark immobility of the +pathological "case," but in all the stages of religious ecstasy, +aesthetic pleasure, and creative inspiration, is to be traced +what we know as the loss of the feeling of self. Bernard of +Clairvaux dwells on "that ecstasy of deification in which the +individual disappears in the eternal essence as the drop of +water in a cask of wine." Says Meister Eckhart, "Thou shalt +sink away from they selfhood, though shalt flow into His self- +possession, the very thought of Thine shall melt into His Mine;" +and St. Teresa, "The soul, in thus searching for its God, +feels with a very lively and very sweet pleasure that is is +fainting almost quiet away." + +Still more striking is the language of aesthetic emotion. +Philosopher and poet have but one expression for the universal +experience. Says Keats in the "Ode to a Nightingale:"-- + + "My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains + My sense as though of hemlock I had drunk, + Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains + One minute past, and Lethewards had sunk: + 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, + But being too happy in thy happiness." + +And in Schopenhauer we read that he who contemplates the +beautiful "forgets even his individuality, his will, and only +continues to exist as the pure subject, the clear mirror of +the object." + +But not only the religious enthusiast and the worshiper of +beauty "lose themselves" in ecstasy. The "fine frenzy" of the +thinker is typical. From Archimedes, whose life paid the +forfeit of his impersonal absorption; from Socrates, musing in +one spot from dawn to dawn, to Newton and Goethe, there is but +one form of the highest effort to penetrate and to create. +Emerson is right in saying of the genius, "His greatness +consists in the fullness in which an ecstatic state is realized +in him." + +The temporary evaporation of the consciousness of one's own +Personality is then decidedly not a pathological experience. +It seems the condition, indeed, and recognized as such in +popular judgment, of the deepest feeling and the highest +achievement. Perhaps it is the very assumption of this condition +in our daily thoughts that has veiled the psychological problem +it presents. We opine, easily enough, that great deeds are done +in forgetfulness of self. But why should we forget ourselves +in doing great deeds? Why not as well feel in every act its +reverberation on the self,--the renewed assurance that it is +I who can? Why not, in each aesthetic thrill, awake anew to +the consciousness of myself as ruler in a realm of beauty? Why +not, in the rush of intellectual production, glory that "my +mind to me a kingdom is"? And yet the facts are otherwise: +in proportion to the intensity and value of the experience is +its approach to the objective, the impersonal, the ecstatic +state. Then how explain this anomaly? Why should religious, +aesthetic, and intellectual emotion be accompanied in varying +degrees by the loss of self-consciousness? Why should the +sense of personality play us so strange a trick as to vanish, +at the moment of seemingly greatest power, in the very shadow +of its own glory? + +If now we put the most obvious question, and ask, in explanation +of its escapades, what the true nature of this personality is, +we shall find ourselves quite out of our reckoning on the vast +sea of metaphysics. To know what personality IS, "root and all, +and all in all," is to "know what God and man is." Fortunately, +our problem is much more simple. It is not the personality, +its reality, its meaning, that vanishes; no, nor even the +psychological system of dispositions. We remain, in such a +moment of ecstasy, as persons, what we were before. It is the +FEELING of personality that has faded; and to find out in what +this will-o'-the-wisp feeling of personality resides is a task +wholly within the powers of psychological analysis. Let no one +object that the depth and value of experience seem to disintegrate +under the psychologist's microscope. The place of the full-orbed +personality in a world of noble ends is not affected by the +possibility that the centre of its conscious crystallization may +be found in a single sensation. + +The explanation, then, of this apparent inconsistency--the fading +away of self in the midst of certain most important experiences-- +must lie in the nature of the feeling of personality. What is +that feeling? On what is it based? How can it be described? +The difficulties of introspection have led many to deny the +possibility of such self-fixation. The fleeting moment passes, +and we grasp only an idea or a feeling; the Ego has slipped away +like a drop of mercury under the fingers. Like the hero of the +German poet, who wanted his queue in front, + + "Then round and round, and out and in, + All day that puzzled sage did spin; + In vain; it mattered not a pin; + The pigtail hung behind him," + +when I turn round upon myself to catch myself in the act of +thinking, I can never lay hold on anything but a sensation. I +may peel off, like the leaves of an artichoke, my social self,-- +my possessions and positions, my friends, my relatives; my +active self,--my books and implements of work; my clothes; even +my flesh, and sit in my bones, like Sydney Smith,--the I in me +retreating ever to an inner citadel; but I must stop with the +feeling that something moves in there. That is not what my +self IS, but what the elusive sprite feels like when I have got +my finger on him. In daily experience, however, it is +unnecessary to proceed to such extremities. The self, at a +given moment of consciousness, is felt as one group of elements +which form a foreground. The second group is, we say, before +the attention, and is not at that moment felt as self; while +the first group is vague, undifferentiated, not attended to, +but felt. Any element in this background can detach itself +and come into the foreground of attention. I become conscious +at this moment, for instance, of the weight of my shoulders +as they rest on the back of my chair: that sensation, however, +belongs to my self no more than does the sensation of the +smoothness of the paper on which my hand rests. I know I am a +self, because I can pass, so to speak, between the foreground +and the background of my consciousness. It is the feeling of +transition that gives me the negative and positive of my +circuit; and this feeling of transition, hunted to its lair, +reveals itself as nothing more nor less than a motor sensation +felt in the sense organs which adapt themselves to the new +conditions. I look on that picture and on this, and know that +they are two, because the change in the adaptation of my sense +organs to their objects has been felt. I close my eyes and +think of near and far, and it is the change in the sensations +from my eye muscles that tells me I have passed between the +two; or, to express it otherwise, that it is in me the two +have succeeded each other. While the self in its widest sense, +therefore, is co-extensive with consciousness, the distinctive +feeling of self as opposed to the elements in consciousness +which represent the outer world is based on those bodily +sensations which are connected with the relations of objects. +My world--the foreground of my consciousness--would fall in on +me and crush me, if I could not hold it off by just this power +to feel it different from my background; and it is felt as +different through the motor sensations involved in the change +of my sense organs in passing from one to the other. The +condition of the feeling of transition, and hence of the +feeling of personality, is then the presence in consciousness +of at least two possible objects of attention; and the formal +consciousness of self might be schematized as a straight line +connecting two points, in which one point represents the +foreground, and the other the background, of consciousness. + +If we now accept this view, and ask under what conditions the +sense of self may be lost, the answer is at once suggested. +It will happen when the "twoness" disappears, so that the line +connecting and separating the two objects in our scheme drops +out or is indefinitely decreased. When background or foreground +tends to disappear or to merge either into the other, or when +background or foreground makes an indissoluble unity or +unbreakable circle, the content of consciousness approaches +absolute unity. There is no "relating" to be done, no +"transition" to be made. The condition, then, for the feeling +of personality is no longer present, and there results a +feeling of complete unity with the object of attention; and if +this object of attention is itself without parts or differences, +there results an empty void, Nirvana. + +Suppose that I gaze, motionless, at a single bright light until +all my bodily sensations have faded. Then one of the "points" +in our scheme has dropped out. In my mind there reigns but one +thought. The transition feeling goes, for there is nothing to +be "related." Now "it is one blaze, about me and within me;" +I am that light, and myself no longer. My consciousness is a +unit or a blank, as you please. If you say that I am self- +hypnotized, I may reply that I have simply ceased to feel +myself different from the content of my consciousness, because +that content has ceased to allow a transition between its terms. + +This is, however, not the only possible form of the disappearance +of our "twoness," and the resulting loss of the self-feeling. +When the sequence of objects in consciousness is so rapid that +the feeling of transition, expressed in motor terms, drops below +the threshold of sensation, the feeling of self again fades. +Think, for instance, of the Bacchanal orgies. The votary of +Dionysus, dancing, shrieking, tearing at his hair and at his +garments, lost in the lightning change of his sensations all +power of relating them. His mind was ringed in a whirling +circle, every point of which merged into the next without +possibility of differentiation. And since he could feel no +transition periods, he could feel HIMSELF no longer; he was +one with the content of his consciousness, which consciousness +was no less a unit than our bright light aforesaid, just as a +circle is as truly a unit as a point. The priest of Dionysus +must have felt himself only a dancing, shouting thing, one +with the world without, "whirled round in earth's diurnal course +with rocks and stones and trees." And how perfectly the ancient +belief fits our psychophysical analysis! The Bacchic enthusiast +believed himself possessed with the very ecstasy of the spirit +of nature. His inspired madness was the presence of the god +who descended upon him,--the god of the vine, of spring; the +rising sap, the rushing stream, the bursting leaf, the rippling +song, all the life of flowing things, they were he! "Autika ga +pasa zoreusei," was the cry,--"soon the whole earth will dance +and sing!" + +Yes, this breaking down of barriers, this melting of the +personality into its surroundings, this strange and sweet self- +abandonment must have its source in just the disappearance of +the sensation of adjustment, on which the feeling of personality +is based. But how can it be, we have to ask, that a principle +so barren of emotional significance should account for the +ecstasy of religious emotion, of aesthetic delight, of creative +inspiration? It is not, however, religion or beauty or genius +that is the object of our inquiry at this moment, but simply +the common element in the experience of each of these which +we know as the disappearance of self-feeling. How the +circumstances peculiar to religious worship, aesthetic appreciation, +and intellectual creation bring about the formal conditions of +the loss of personal feeling must be sought in a more detailed +analysis, and we shall then be able to trace the source of the +intensity of emotion in these experiences. What, then, first +of all, are the steps by which priest and poet and thinker have +passed into the exaltation of selfless emotion? Fortunately, +the passionate pilgrims of all three realms of deep experience +have been ever prodigal of their confessions. The religious +ecstasy, however, embodies the most complete case, and allows +the clearest insight into the nature of the experience; and will +therefore be dealt with at greatest length. + +The typical religious enthusiast is the mystic. From Plotinus +to Buddha, from Meister Eckhart to Emerson, the same doctrine +has brought the same fruits of religious rapture. There is one +God, and in contemplation of Him the soul becomes of his +essence. Whether it is held, as by the Neoplatonists, that +Being and Knowledge are one, that the procedure of the world +out of God is a process of self-revelation, and the return of +things into God a process of higher and higher intuition, and +so the mystic experience an apprehension of the highest rather +than a form of worship; or whether it is expressed as by the +humble Beguine, Mechthild,--"My soul swims in the Being of God +as a fish in water,'--the kernel of the mystic's creed is the +same. In ecstatic contemplation of God, and, in the higher +states, in ecstatic union with Him, in sinking the individuality +in the divine Being, is the only true life. Not all, it is +true, who hold the doctrine have had the experience; not all can +say with Eckhart or with Madame Guyon, "I have seen God in my +own soul," or "I have become one with God." It is from the +narratives and the counsels of perfection of these, the chosen, +the initiate, who have passed beyond the veil, that light may +be thrown on the psychological conditions of mystic ecstasy. + +The most illuminating account of her actual mystical experiences +is given by Madame Guyon, the first of the sect or school of the +Quietists. This gentle Frenchwoman had a gift for psychological +observation, and though her style is neither poetic nor +philosophical, I may be pardoned for quoting at some length her +naive and lucid revelations. The following passages, beginning +with an early religious experience, are taken almost at random +from the pages of her autobiography:-- + +"These sermons made such an impression on my mind, and absorbed +me so strongly in God, that I could not open my eyes nor hear +what was said." "To hear Thy name, O my God, could put me into +a profound prayer....I could not see any longer the saints nor +the Holy Virgin outside of God; but I saw them all in Him, +scarcely being able to distinguish them from Him....I could +not hear God nor our Lord Jesus Christ spoken of without being, +as it were, outside of myself [hors de moi]....Love seized me +so strongly that I remained absorbed, in a profound silence and +a peace that I cannot describe. I made ever new efforts, and +I passed my life in beginning my prayers without being able to +carry them through....I could ask nothing for myself nor for +another, nor wish anything but this divine will....I do not +believe that there could be in the world anything more simple +and more unified....It is a state of which one can say nothing +more, because it evades all expression,--a state in which the +creature is lost, engulfed. All is God, and the soul perceives +only God. It has to strive no more for perfection, for growth, +for approach to Him, for union. All is consummated in the unity, +but in a manner so free, so natural, so easy, that the soul +lives from the air which it breathes....The spirit is empty, no +more traversed by thoughts; nothing fills the void, which is no +longer painful, and the soul finds in itself an immense capacity +that nothing can either limit or destroy." + +Can we fail to trace in these simple words the shadow of all +religious exaltation that is based on faith alone? Madame Guyon +is strung to a higher key than most of this dull and relaxed +world; but she has struck the eternal note of contemplative +worship. Such is the sense of union with the divine Spirit. +Such are the thoughts and even the words of Dante, Eckhart, St. +Teresa, the countless mystics of the Middle Age, and of the +followers of Buddhism in its various shades, from the Ganges to +the Charles. Two characteristics disengage themselves to view: +the insistence on the unity of God--IN whom alone the Holy +Virgin and the saints are seen--from a psychological point of +view only; and the mind's emptiness of thought in a state of +religious ecstasy. But without further analysis, we may ask, +as the disciples of the mystics have always done, how this +state of blissful union is to be reached. They have always +been minute in their prescriptions, and it is possible to +derive therefrom what may be called the technique of the mystic +procedure. + +"The word mystic," to quote Walter Pater, "has been derived from +a Greek word which signifies to shut, as if one shut one's lips, +brooding on what cannot be uttered; but the Platonists themselves +derive it rather from the act of shutting the eyes, that one may +see the more, inwardly." Of such is the counsel of St. Luis de +Granada, "Imitate the sportsman who hoods the falcon that it be +made subservient to his rule;" and of another Spanish mystic, +Pedro de Alcantara: "In meditation, let the person rouse himself +from things temporal, and let him collect himself within himself +....Here let him hearken to the voice of God...as though there +were no other in the world save God and himself." St. Teresa +found happiness only in "shutting herself up within herself." +Vocal prayer could not satisfy her, and she adopted mental +prayer. The four stages of her experience--which she named +"recollectedness," "quietude" (listening rather than speaking), +"union" (blissful sleep with the faculties of the mind still), +"ecstasy or rapture"--are but progressive steps in the sealing +of the senses. The yoga of the Brahmins, which is the same as +the "union" of the Cabalists, is made to depend upon the same +conditions,--passivity, perseverance, solitude. The novice +must arrest his breathing, and may meditate on mystic symbols +alone, by way of reaching the formless, ineffable Buddha. But +it is useless to heap up evidence; the inference is sufficiently +clear. + +The body is first brought into a state either of nervous +instability or irritability by ascetic practices, or of nervous +insensibility by the persistent withdrawal of all outer +disturbance; and the mind is fixed upon a single object,--the +one God, the God eternal, absolute, indivisible. Recalling our +former scheme for the conditions of the sense of personality, +we shall see that we have here the two poles of consciousness. +Then, as the tension is sharpened, what happens? Under the +artificial conditions of weakened nerves, of blank surroundings, +the self-background drops. The feeling of transition disappears +with the absence of related terms; and the remaining, the +positive pole of consciousness, is an undifferentiated Unity, +with which the person must feel himself one. The feeling of +personality is gone with that on which it rests, and its loss +is joined with an overwhelming sense of union with the One, the +Absolute, God! + +The object of mystic contemplation is the One indivisible. But +we can also think the One as the unity of all differences, the +Circle of the Universe. Those natures also which, like Amiel's, +are "bedazzled with the Infinite" and thirst for "totality" +attain in their reveries to the same impersonal ecstasy. Amiel +writes of a "night on the sandy shore of the North Sea, stretched +at full length upon the beach, my eyes wandering over the Milky +Way. Will they ever return to me, those grandiose, immortal, +cosmogonic dreams, in which one seems to carry the world in one's +breast, to touch the stars, to possess the Infinite!" The +reverie of Senancour, on the bank of the Lake of Bienne, quoted +by Matthew Arnold, reveals the same emotion: "Vast consciousness +of a nature everywhere greater than we are, and everywhere +impenetrable; all-embracing passion, ripened wisdom, delicious +self-abandonment." In the coincidence of outer circumstance-- +the lake, the North Sea, night, the attitude of repose--may we +not trace a dissolution of the self-background, similar to that +of the mystic worshiper? And in the Infinite, no less than in +the One, must the soul sink and melt into union with it, because +within it there is no determination, no pause, and no change. + +The contemplation of the One, however, is not the only type of +mystic ecstasy. That intoxication of emotion which seizes upon +the negro camp meeting of to-day, as it did upon the Delphic +priestesses two thousand years ago, seems at first glance to +have nothing in common psychologically with the blessed +nothingness of Gautama and Meister Eckhart. But the loss of +the feeling of personality and the sense of possession by a +divine spirit are the same. How, then, is this state reached? +By means, I believe, which recall the general formula for the +Disappearance of self-feeling. To repeat the monosyllable OM +(Brahm) ten thousand times; to circle interminably, chanting +the while, about a sacred ire; to listen to the monotonous +magic drum; to whirl the body about; to rock to and fro on the +knees, vociferating prayers, are methods which enable the +members of the respective sects in which they are practiced +either to enter, as they say, into the Eternal Being, or to +become informed with it through the negation of the self. The +sense of personality, at any rate, is more or less completely +lost, and the ecstasy takes a form more or less passionate, +according as the worshiper depends on the rapidity rather than +on the monotony of his excitations. Here, again, the self- +background drops, inasmuch as every rhythmical movement tends +to become automatic, and then unconscious. Thus what we are +wont to call the inspired madness of the Delphic priestesses +was less the expression of ecstasy than the means of its +excitation. Perpetual motion, as well as eternal rest, may +bring about the engulfment of the self in the object. The +most diverse types of religious emotions, IN SO FAR AS THEY +PRESENT VARIATIONS IN THE DEGREE OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS, are +thus seen to be reducible to the same psychological basis. +The circle, no less than the point, is the symbol of the One, +and the "devouring unity" that lays hold on consciousness +from the loss of the feeling of transition comes in the +unrest of enthusiasm no less than in the blissful nothing of +Nirvana. + +At this point, I am sure, the reader will interpose a protest. +Is, then, the mystery of self-abandonment to the highest to +be shared with the meanest of fanatics? Are the rapture of +Dante and the trance of the Omphalopsychi sprung from the +same root? There is no occasion, however, for the revolt of +sentiment because we fail to emphasize here the important +differences in the emotional character and value of the states +in question. What interests us is only one aspect which they +have in common, the surrender of the sense of personality. +That is based on formal relations of the elements of +consciousness, and the explanation of its disappearance +applies as well to the whirling dervish as to the converts +of a revivalist preacher. + +The mystic, then, need only shut his senses to the world, and +contemplate the One. Subject fuses with object, and he feels +himself melt into the Infinite. But each experience is not +the exclusive property of the religious enthusiast. The +worshiper of beauty has given evidence of the same feelings. +And yet, in his aesthetic rapture, the latter dwells with +deliberation on his delights, and while luxuriating in the +infinite labyrinths of beauty can scarcely be described as +musing on an undifferentiated Unity. So far, at least, it +does not appear that our formula applies to aesthetic feeling. + +Aesthetic feeling arises in the contemplation of a beautiful +object. But what makes an object beautiful? To go still +further back, just what, psychologically, does contemplation +mean? To contemplate an object is to dwell on the idea or +image of it, and to dwell upon an idea means to carry it out +incipiently. We may go even further, and say it is the +carrying out by virtue of which we grasp the idea. How do +we think of a tall pine-tree? By sweeping our eyes up and +down its length, and out to the ends of its branches; and if +we are forbidden to use our eye muscles even infinitesimally, +then we cannot think of the visual image. In short, we +perceive an object in space by carrying out its motor +suggestions; more technically expressed, by virtue of a +complex of motor impulses aroused by it; more briefly, by +incipiently imitating it. Contemplation is inner imitation. + +Now a beautiful object is first of all a unified object; why +this must be so has been considered in the preceding chapter. +In it all impulses of soul and sense are bound to react upon +one another, and to lead back to one another. And all the +elements, which in contemplation we reproduce in the form of +motor impulses, are bound to make a closed circle of these +suggested energies. The symmetrical picture calls out a set +of motor impulses which "balance,"--a system of energies +reacting on one centre; the sonnet takes us out on one wave +of rhythm and of thought, to bring us back on another to the +same point; the sonata does the same in melody. In the +"whirling circle" of the drama, not a word or an act that is +not indissolubly linked with before and after. Thus the unity +of a work of art makes of the system of suggested energies +which form the foreground of attention an impregnable, an +invulnerable circle. + +Not only, however, are we held in equilibrium in the object +of attention; we cannot connect with it our self-background, +for the will cannot act on the object of aesthetic feeling. +We cannot eat the grapes of Apelles or embrace the Galatea of +Pygmalion; we cannot rescue Ophelia or enlighten Juliet; and +of impulse to interfere, to connect the scene with ourselves, +we have none. But this is a less important factor in the +situation. That the house is dark, the audience silent, and +all motor impulses outside of the aesthetic circle stifled, is, +too, only a superficial, and, so to speak, a negative condition. +The real ground of the possibility of a momentary self- +annihilation lies in the fact that all incitements to motor +impulse--except those which belong to the indissoluble ring +of the object itself--have been shut out by the perfection of +unity to which the aesthetic object (here the drama) has been +brought. The background fades; the foreground satisfies, +incites no movement; and with the disappearance of the +possibility of action which would connect the two, fades also +that which dwells in this feeling of transition,--the sense +of personality. The depth of aesthetic feeling lies not in +the worthy countryman who interrupts the play with cries for +justice on the villain, but in him who creates the drama again +with the poet, who lives over again in himself each of the +thrills of emotion passing before him, and loses himself in +their web. The object is a unity or our whirling circle of +impulses, as you like to phrase it. At any rate, out of that +unity the soul does not return upon itself; it remains one +with it in the truest sense. + +The loss of the sense of personality is an integral part of +the aesthetic experience; and we have seen how it is a +necessary psychological effect of the unity of the object. +From another point of view it may be said that the unity of +the object is constituted just by the inhibition of all +tendency to movement through the balance or centrality of +impulses suggested by it. In other words, the balance of +impulses makes us feel the object a unity. And this balance +of impulses, this inhibition of movement, corresponding to +unity, is what we know as aesthetic repose. Thus the conditions +of aesthetic repose and of the loss of self-feeling are the +same. In fact, it might be said that, within this realm, +the two conceptions are identical. The true aesthetic repose +is just that perfect rest in the beautiful object which is +the essence of the loss of the sense of personality. + +Subtler and rarer, again, than the raptures of mysticism and +of beauty worship is the ecstasy of intellectual production; +yet the "clean, clear joy of creation," as Kipling names it, +is not less to be grouped with those precious experiences in +which the self is sloughed away, and the soul at one with its +content. I speak, of course, of intellectual production in +full swing, in the momentum of success. The travail of soul +over apparently hopeless difficulties or in the working out +of indifferent details takes place not only in full self- +consciousness, but in self-disgust; there we can take Carlyle +to witness. But in the higher stages the fixation of truth +and the appreciation of beauty are accompanied by the same +extinction of the feeling of individuality. Of testimony we +have enough and to spare. I need not fill these pages with +confessions and anecdotes of the ecstatical state in which +all great deeds of art and science are done. The question is +rather to understand and explain it on the basis of the formal +scheme to which we have found the religious and the aesthetic +attitudes to conform. + +Jean Paul says somewhere that, however laborious the completion +of a great work, its conception came as a whole,--in one flash. +We remember the dreams of Schiller in front of his red curtain +and the resulting musikalische Stimmung,--formless, undirected, +out of which his poem shaped itself; the half-somnambulic +state of Goethe and his frantic haste in fixation of the vision, +in which he dared not even stop to put his paper straight, but +wrote over the corners quite ruthlessly. Henner once said to +a painter who mourned that he had done nothing on his picture +for the Salon, though he saw it before him, "What! You see +your picture! Then it is done. You can paint it in an hour." +If all these traditions be true, they are significant; and +the necessary conditions of such composition seem to be highly +analogous to those of the aesthetic emotion. We have, first +of all, a lack of outward stimulation, and therefore possible +disappearance of the background. How much better have most +poets written in a garret than in a boudoir! Goethe's bare +little room in the garden house at Weimar testifies to the +severe conditions his genius found necessary. Tranquillity +of the background is the condition of self-absorption, or-- +and this point seems to me worth emphasizing--a closed circle +of outer activities. I have never believed, for instance, in +the case of the old tale of Walter Scott and the button, that +it was the surprise of his loss that tied the tongue of the +future author's rival. The poor head scholar had simply made +for himself a transitionless experience with that twirling +button, and could then sink his consciousness in its object,-- +at that moment the master's questions. It is with many of +us a familiar experience, that of not being able to think +unless in constant motion. Translated into our psychological +scheme, the efficiency of these movements would be explained +thus: Given the "whirling circles,"--the background of +continuous movement sensations, which finally dropped out of +consciousness, and the foreground of continuous thought,--the +first protected, so to speak, the second, since they were +mutually exclusive, and what broke the one destroyed the other. + +But to return from this digression, a background fading into +nothingness, either as rest or as a closed circle of automatic +movements, is the first condition of the ecstasy of mental +production. The second is given in the character of its +object. The object of high intellectual creation is a unity,-- +a perfect whole, revealed, as Jean Paul says, in a single +movement of genius. Within the enchanted circle of his +creation, the thinker is absorbed, because here too all his +impulses are turned to one end, in relation to which nothing +else exists. + +I am aware that many will see a sharp distinction here between +the work of the creator or discoverer in science and the artist. +They may maintain, in Schopenhauer's phrase, that the aim and +end of science is just the connection of objects in the service +of the will of the individual, and hence transition between the +various terms is constant; while art, on the other hand, indeed +isolates its object, and so drops transitions. But I think +where we speak of "connection" thus, we mean the larger sweep +of law. If the thinker looks beyond his special problem at +all, it is, like Buddha, to "fix his eyes upon the chain of +causation." The scientist of imagination sees his work under +the form of eternity, as one link of that endless chain, one +atom in that vortex of almighty purposes, which science will +need all time to reveal. For him it is either one question, +closed within itself by its own answer, or it is the Infinite +Law of the Universe,--the point or the circle. From all points +of view, then, the object of creation in art or science is a +girdle of impulses from which the mind may not stray. The two +conditions of our formal scheme are given: a term which +disappears, and one which is a perfect whole. Transition +between background and foreground has dropped. Between the +objects of attention in the foreground it has no meaning, +because the foreground is an indissoluble unity. With that +object the self must feel itself one, since the distinctive +self-feeling has disappeared with the opportunity for transition. + +We have thus swung around the circle of mystical, aesthetic, +and creative emotion, and we have found a single formula to +apply, and a single explanation to avail for the loss of +personality. The conditions of such experiences bring about +the disappearance of one term, and the impregnable unity of +the other. Without transition between two terms in consciousness, +two objects of attention, the loss of the feeling of personality +takes place according to natural psychological laws. It is no +longer a mystery that in intense experience the feeling of +personality dissolves. + +One point, however, does remain still unexplained,--the bliss +of self-abandonment. Whence are the definiteness and intensity +of the religious and aesthetic emotions? The surrender of the +sense of personality, it seems, is based on purely formal +relations of the elements of consciousness, common to all three +groups of the analyzed emotions. Yet it is precisely with a +fading of self-feeling that intensity and definiteness deepen. +But how can different and emotionally significant feelings +arise from a single formal process? How can the worship of +God become ecstatic joy through the loss of personality? The +solution of this apparent paradox is demanded not only in +logic, but also by those who would wish to see the religious +trance distinguished also in its origin from those of baser +content. + +But it is, after all, the formal nature of the phenomenon that +gives us light. If variation in the degree of self-feeling is +the common factor, and the disappearance of the transition- +feeling its cause, then the lowest member of the scale, in +which the loss of self-feeling takes place with mathematical +completeness, must be included. That is the hypnotic trance. +It is not necessary at this place to emphasize the fact that +our theory, if accepted, would constitute a theory and a +definition also of hypnotism. Of interest to our inquiry is +merely a characteristic mark of the hypnotic state,--its +tremendous suggestibility. Why is this? Our theory would +answer that all impulses are held in equilibrium, and that an +external suggestion has thus no rivals. Whatever the cause, +this last is at any rate the fact. All suggestions seem to +double in emotional value. Tell the hypnotic subject that +he is sailing up the Rhine, and the most vivid admiration is +in his aspect; he gazes in heart-felt devotion if it is a +pretty girl he is bid to look at; he quaffs a glass of water +with livelier delight than he would show for the draught of +Chateau Yquem of which he is led to think. + +Now in religious and aesthetic experience there is brought +about the same equilibrium or unity of impulses, resulting +in analogous loss of self-feeling. But it is a most +interesting fact that the FORM of the contemplated object +is the cause of this arrest and repose. God, the circle of +the Infinite, the Eternal One, enter into play as "unity" +alone. What, then, of the content? After the analogy of +the extreme case, the content--that is, emotional value +and definite emotional tone--takes the place of the external +suggestion. Under just the conditions of the religious +trance, the element of reverence, of joyous sentiment, is +able suddenly to take on a more vivid aspect. It may not +be that the emotion itself is greater, but it now holds the +field. It may not be that it is more intense, but the +intensity of concentration which takes on its color makes +it seem so. The "rapture" is just the sense of being caught +up into union with the highest; the joy of the rapture is +the joy of every thought of God, here left free to brighten +into ecstasy; and its "revelation-value" is again the sense +of immediate union with a Being the intellectual concept of +whom is immensely vivified. + +So may be analyzed the aesthetic ecstasy. The tension of +those mutually antagonistic impulses which make balance, and +so unity, and so the conditions for loss of sense of self, +clears the way for tasting the full savor of pleasure in +bright color, flowing line, exquisite tone-sequence, moving +thought. Many a commonplace experience, says M. Souriau, +suddenly takes on a charm when seen in the arrested aesthetic +vision. "Every one can have observed that an object in itself +agreeable to look on, like a bouquet of flowers, or the fresh +face of a young girl, takes on a sort of magic and supernatural +beauty if we regard it mechanically while listening to music."<1> +The intensity of concentration caused by the unity of form +fuses with this suggested vividness of feeling from content +and material, and the whole is felt as intensity of aesthetic +emotion. The Sistine Madonna would not strike so deep in +feeling were it less crystalline in its unity, less trance-like +in its repose, and so less enchanting in its suggestion. + +<1> P. Souriau, _La Suggestion en l'Art._ + +So it is not only the man of achievement who sees but one thing +at a time. To enter intensely into any ideal experience means +to be blind to all others. One must lose one's own soul to +gain the world, and none who enter and return from the paradise +of selfless ecstasy will question that it is gained. It may +be that personality is a hindrance and a barrier, and that we +are only truly in harmony with the secret of our own existence +when we cease to set ourselves over against the world. +Nevertheless, the sense of individuality is a possession for +which the most of mankind would pay the price, if it must be +paid, even of eternal suffering. The delicious hour of fusion +with the universe is precious, so it seems to us now, just +because we can return from it to our own nest, and, close and +warm there, count up our happiness. The fragmentariness and +multiplicity of life are, then, the saving of the sense of +selfhood, and we must indeed + + "Rejoice that man is hurled + From change to change unceasingly, + His soul's wings never furled." + + +IV +THE BEAUTY OF FINE ART + + +IV +A. THE BEAUTY OF VISUAL FORM + +I + +IN what consists the Beauty of Visual Form? The older writers +on what we now know as the science of art did not ask themselves +this question. Although we are accustomed to hear that order, +symmetry, unity in variety, was the Greek, and in particular +the Platonic, formula for beauty, we observe, on examining the +passages cited in evidence, that it is rather the moral quality +appertaining to these characteristics that determines them as +beautiful; symmetry is beautiful, because harmonious, and +inducing order and self-restraint. Aristotle's single +pronouncement in the sense of our question is the dictum: there +is no beauty without a certain magnitude. Lessing, in his +"Laocoon," really the first modern treatise in aesthetics, +discusses the excellences of painting and poetry, but deals +with visible beauty as if it were a fixed quality, understood +when referred to, like color. This is undoubtedly due to his +unconscious reference of beauty to the human form alone; a +reference which he would have denied, but which influences his +whole aesthetic theory. In speaking of a beautiful picture, for +instance, he would have meant first of all the representation +of beautiful persons in it, hardly at all that essential beauty +of the picture as painting, to which every inch of the canvas +is alike precious. It is clear to us now, however, that the +beauty of the human form is the most obscure of all possible +cases, complex in itself, and overlaid and involved as it is +with innumerable interests and motives of extra-aesthetic +character. Beauty in simple forms must be our first study; +and great credit is due to Hogarth for having propounded in +his "Analysis of Beauty" the simple question,--what makes the +quality of beauty to the eye? + +But in visible beauty, the aesthetic value of pure form is +not the only element involved: or at least is must be +settled whether or not it is the only element involved. If +in a work of art, as we believe, what belongs to its excellence +belongs to its beauty, we may not applaud one painter, for +instance, for his marvelous color-schemes, another for his +expression of emotion, another for his delineation of +character, without acknowledging that expression of character +and emotion come within our concept of visible beauty. Franz +von Lenbach was once asked what he thought likely to be the +fate of his own work. "As for that," he replied, "I think I +may possibly have a chance of living; but ONLY if +Individualization or Characterization be deemed to constitute +a quality of permanent value in a picture. This, however, I +shall never know, for it can only be adjudged by posterity. +If that verdict should prove unfavorable, then my work, too, +will perish with the rest,--for it cannot compare on their +lines with the great masters of the past." That this is +indeed an issue is shown by the contrasting opinion of the +critic who exclaimed before a portrait, "Think away the +head and face, and you will have a wonderful effect of color!" +The analysis of visible beauty accordingly resolves itself +into the explanation of the beauty of form (including shape +and color) and the fixing in relation thereto of other +factors. + +The most difficult part of our task is indeed behind us. We +have already defined Beauty in general: we have outlined +in a preceding essay the abstract aesthetic demands, and we +have now only to ask through what psychological means these +demands can be and are in fact met. In other words we have +to show that what we intensely feel as Beauty can and does +exemplify these principles, and through them is explained and +accounted for. Beauty has been defined as that combination +of qualities in the object which brings about a union of +stimulation and repose in the enjoyer. How must this be +interpreted with reference to the particular facts of visual +form? + +The most immediate reference is naturally to the sense organ +itself; and the first question is therefore as to the +favorable stimulations of the eye. What, in general, does +the eye demand of its object? + + +II + +The simplest element of visual experience is of course found +in light and color, the sensation of the eye as such. Yet +there is no branch of aesthetic which is so incomplete. We +know that the sensation of light or color, if not too weak +or too violent, is in itself pleasing. The bright, the +glittering, shining object, so long as it is not painful, +is pleasantly stimulating. Gems, tinsel, lacquer, polish, +testify to this taste, from the most primitive to the most +civilized man. Color, too, if distinct, not over-bright, +nor too much extended in field, is in itself pleasing. The +single colors have been the object of comparatively little +study. Experiment seems to show that the colors containing +most brightness--white, red, and yellow--are preferred. +Baldwin, in his "dynamogenic" experiments,<1> based on "the +view that the infant's hand movements in reaching or +grasping are the best index of the kind and intensity of +its sensory experiences," finds that the colors range +themselves in order of attractiveness, blue, white, red, +green, brown. Further corrections lay more emphasis upon +the white. Yellow was not included in the experiments. +Cohn's results, which show a relative dislike of yellow, +are contradicted by other observers, notably Major and +Baker,<2> and (unpublished) experiments of my own, including +the aesthetic preferences of seven or eight different sets +of students at Radcliffe and Wellesley colleges. Experiments +of this kind are particularly difficult, inasmuch as the +material, usually colored paper, varies considerably from +the spectral color, and differences in saturation, hue, and +brightness make great differences in the results, while the +feeling-tone of association, individual or racial, very +often intrudes. But other things being equal, the bright, +the clear, the saturated color is relatively more pleasing, +and white, red, and yellow seem especially preferred. + +<1> _Mental Development in the Child and the Race_, 1895, +pp. 39, 50, ff. +<2> E. S. Baker, _Univ. of Toronto Studies, Psychol. Series_, +No. 4; J. Cohn, _Philos. Studien_, vol. X; Major, _Amer. Jour. +of Psychol._, vol. vii. + +Now, according to the Hering theory of color, white, red, and +yellow are the so-called "dissimilating" colors in the three +pairs, white-black, red-green, and yellow-blue, corresponding +to three hypothetical visual substances in the retina. These +substances, that is, in undergoing a kind of chemical +disintegration under the action of light-rays, are supposed to +give the sensations white, red, or yellow respectively, and in +renewing themselves again to give the sensations of black, +green, and blue. The dissimilating process seems to bring +about stronger reactions on the physiological side, as if it +were a more exciting process. Thus it is found<1> that as +measured by the increase in strength of the hand grip under +the stimulation of the respective colors, red has particularly +exciting qualities, but the other colors have an analogous +effect, lessening, however, with the descent from red to +violet. The pleasure in bright red, or yellow, for instance, +may thus well be the feeling-tone arising in the purely +physiological effect of the color. If red works like a trumpet +call, while blue calms and cools, and if red is preferred to +blue, it is because a sharp stimulation is so felt, and so +preferred. + +<1> Ch. Fere, _Sensation et Mouvement_, 1887, p. 80. + +The question of the demands of the eye in color combination is +still more complicated. It has been traditional to consider +the complementaries black-white, red-green, blue-yellow, and +the other pairs resulting from the mixtures of these as the +best combinations. The physiological explanation is of course +found in the relief and refreshment to the organs in successive +alternation of the processes of assimilation and dissimilation, +and objectively in the reinforcement, through this stronger +functioning of the retina, of the complementary colors +themselves. This tendency to mutual aid is shown in the +familiar experiment of fixating for some moments a colored +object, say red, and then transferring the gaze to a white or +gray expanse. The image of the object appears thereon in the +complementary green. Per contra, the most complete lack of +contrast makes the most unpleasing combination, because instead +of a refreshing alternation of processes in the retina, a +fatiguing repetition results. Red and orange (red-yellow), or +red and purple (red-blue), successively stimulate the red- +process with most evil effect. + +This contrast theory should, however, not be interpreted too +narrowly. There are pairs of so-called complementaries which +make a very crude, harsh, even painful impression. The theory +is happily supplemented by showing<1> that the ideal combination +involves all three contrast factors, hue, saturation, and +brightness. Contrast of saturation or brightness within the +same hue is also pleasant. For any two qualities of the color +circle, in fact, there can be found degrees of saturation and +brightness in which they will form an agreeable combination, +and this pleasing effect will be based on some form of contrast. +But the absolute and relative extension and the space-form of +the components have also a great influence on the pleasurableness +of combinations. + +<1> A. Kirschmann, "Die psychol.-aesthet. Bedeutung des Licht +und Farbencontrastes," _Philos. Studien_, vol. vii. + +Further rules can hardly be given; but the results of various +observers<1> seem to show that the best combinations lie, as +already said, among the complementaries, or among those pairs +nearer together in the color circle than complementaries, which +are "warmer." The reason for this last is that, in Chevreul's +phraseology, combinations of cold colors change each other's +peculiar hue the most, and of warm colors the least; because +the complementaries of these cold colors are "warm," i.e. +bright, and each, appearing on the field of the neighboring +cold color, seems to fade it out; while the complementaries +of the juxtaposed warm colors are not bright, and do not have +sufficient strength to affect their neighbors at all. With a +combination of blue and green for instance, a yellow shade +would appear in the green and a red in the blue. Such a +result fails to satisfy the demand, already touched on, for +purity and homogeneity of color,--that is, for unimpeded seeing +of color. + +<1> Chevreul, _De la Loi du Contraste Simultane des Couleurs_. +E.S. Banker, op. Cit. + +What significance have these abstract principles of beauty in +the combination of colors for representative art? In the +choice of objects with a definite local color, of course, these +laws will be found operative. A scheme of blues and yellows +is likely to be more effective than one of reds and violets. +If we analyze the masterpiece of coloring, we shall find that +what we at first supposed to be the wonderful single effects of +color is really the result of juxtapositions which bring out +each color to its highest power. + + +III + +While all this may be true, however, the most important question +has not yet been asked. Is truth of color in representative art +the same thing as beauty of color? It might be said that the +whole procedure of the so-called Impressionist school, in fact +the whole trend of the modern treatment of color, took their +identity for granted. Yet we must discriminate. Truth of color +may be truth to the local color of the given objects, alone or +together; in this case we should have to say that beauty did or +did not exist in the picture, according as it did or did not +exist in the original combination. A red hat on a purple chair +would set one's teeth on edge, in model or picture. Secondly, +truth of color may be truth to the modifications of the +enveloping light, and in this case truth would make for beauty. +For the colors of any given scene are in general not colors +which the objects themselves, if isolated, would have, but the +colors which the eye itself is forced to see. The bluish +shadow of an object in bright sunlight (yellowish light) is only +an expression of the law that in the neighborhood of a colored +object we see its complementary color. If such an effect is +reproduced in a picture, it gives the same relief to the eye +which the original effect showed the need of. The eye fatigued +with yellow sees blue; so if the blue is really supplied in the +picture, it is not only true, but on the road to beauty, because +meting the eye's demand. The older methods of painting gave the +local color of an object, with an admixture of white for the +lights, and a warm dark for the shadows; the modern--which had +been touched on, indeed, sporadically, by Perugino and Vermeer, +for instance,--gives in the shadow the complementary color of +the object combined with that of the light falling upon it--all +conditions of favorable stimulation. + +Further favorable stimulation of the eye is given in the method +of the Impressionists in treating "values," that is, comparative +relations of light and shade. The real tones of objects +including the sky, light, etc., can never be reproduced. The +older schools, conscious of this, were satisfied to paint in a +scale of correspondence, in which the relative values were +fairly kept. But even by that means, the great differences of +intensity could not be given, for the brightest spot of any +painting is never more than sixty-six times brighter than the +darkest, while the gray sky on a dull rainy day is four hundred +and twenty times brighter than a white painted cross-bar of a +window seen against the sky as background.<1> There were +various ways of combating this difficulty. Rembrandt, for +instance, as Kirschmann tells us, chose the sombre brown tone, +"not out of caprice or an inclination for mystic dreaming +(Fromentin), but because the yellow and orange side of the +color-manifold admits of the greatest number of intervals +between full saturation and the darkest shade." The precursors +of the Impressionists, on the other hand, succeeded in painting +absolute values, confining themselves to a very limited gamut; +for this reason the first landscapes of the school were all +gray-green, dull, cloudy. But Monet did not stop there. He +painted the ABSOLUTE VALUES of objects IN SHADE on a sunny day, +which of course demands the brightest possibilities of the +palette, and got the lighted objects themselves as nearly as +he could,--thus destroying the relative values, but getting an +extraordinary joyous and glowing effect; and one, too, of +unexpected verisimilitude, for it would seem that in a sunlit +scene we are really attentive to the shaded objects alone, and +what becomes of the others does not so much matter. This effect +was made still more possible by the so-called dissociation of +colors,--i.e. the juxtaposing of tints, the blending of which +by the eye gives the desired color, without the loss of +brightness which a mixing of pigments would involve. Thus by +putting touches of black and white side by side, for instance, +a gray results much brighter than could have been otherwise +reached by mixing; or blue and red spots are blended by the +eye to an extraordinarily vivid purple. Thus, by these +methods, using the truth of color in the sense of following +the nature of retinal functioning, Monet and his followers +raised the color scale many degrees in brightness. Now we +have seen that the eye loves light, warmth, strong color-effects, +related to each other in the way that the eye must see them. +Impressionism, as the name of the method just described, makes +it more possible than it had been before to meet the demands +of the eye for light and color, to recover "the innocence of +the eye," in Ruskin's phrase. Truth to the local color of +objects is relatively indifferent, unless that color is +beautiful in itself; truth to the reciprocal relations and +changes of hue is beauty, because it allows for the eye's own +adaptations of its surroundings in the interest of its own +functioning. Thus in this case, and to sum up, truth is +synonymous with beauty, in so far as beauty is constituted by +favorable stimulation of an organ. The further question, how +far this vivid treatment of light is of importance for the +realization of depth and distance, is not here entered on. + +<1> Kirschmann, _Univ. of Toronto Studies, Psychol. Series_ No. +4, p. 20. + + +IV + +The moment we touch upon line-form we are already, in strictness, +beyond the elements. For with form enters the motor factor, +which cannot be separated from the motor innervations of the +whole body. It is possible, however, to abstract for the moment +from the form as a unit, and to consider here only what may be +called the quality of line. A line may be straight or broken, +and if curved, curving continuously or brokenly, etc. That +this quality of line is distinct from form may be shown by the +simple experiment of turning a spiral--a logarithmic spiral, +let us say--in different ways about its focus. The aesthetic +effect of the figure is absolutely different in the different +positions, and yet the feeling about the character of the line +itself seems to remain the same. In what sense, and for what +reasons, does this curved line satisfy the demands of the eye? +The discussion of this question precipitates us at once into +one of the burning controversies of aesthetics, which may +perhaps best be dealt with at this point. + +An early answer to the question would have been, that the eye +is so hung in its muscles as to move most easily in curved +lines, and this easy action in following the curve is felt as +favorable stimulation. But recent experiment<1> has shown +that the eye in fact moves by most irregular, angular leaps +from point to point of the figure. The theory is therefore +remodeled by substituting for the movement sensations of the +eye, the tendencies corresponding to those early movements of +touching imitative of the form, by which we learned to know a +form for what it is, and the reproduction of feeling-tones +belonging to the character of such movement. The movements +of touching and feeling for a smooth continuous curved object +are themselves pleasant. This complex of psychical factors +makes a pleasurably stimulating experience. The greater the +tendency to complete reproduction of these movements, that is, +the stronger the "bodily resonance," the more vivid the pleasure. +Whether we (with Groos) designate this as sympathetic reproduction, +or (with Lipps) attribute to the figure the movements and the +feelings which resound in us after this fashion, or even (with +Witasek) insist on the purely ideal character of the reproduction, +seems to me not essential to the explanation of the pleasing +character of the experience, and hence of the beauty of the +object. Not THAT we sympathetically reproduce ("Miterleben"), +or "feel ourselves into" a form ("Einfuhlen"), but HOW we do so, +is the question. + +<1> G.M. Stratton, _Philos. Studies_, xx. + +All that Hogarth says of the beauty of the serpentine line, as +"leading the eye a kind of chase," is fully in harmony with this +view, if we add to the exploiting movements of the eyes those +other more important motor innervations of the body. But we +should still have to ask, WHAT kind of chase? Sharp, broken, +starting lines might be the basis of a much more vivid experience, +--but it would be aesthetically negative. "The complete sensuous +experience of the spatial" is not enough, unless that experience +is positively, that is, favorably toned. Clear or vivid seeing +made possible by the form of the object is not enough. Only as +FAVORABLY stimulating, that is, only as calling up ideal +reproductions, or physical imitations, of movements which in +themselves were suited to the functions of the organs involved, +can forms be found positively aesthetic, that is, beautiful. + +Moreover, we have to note here, and to emphasize, that the +organs involved are more than the eye, as has already been made +plain. We cannot separate eye innvervations from bodily +innervations in general. And therefore "the demands of the eye" +can never alone decide the question of the beauty of visual +form. If it were not so, the favorable stimulation combined +with repose of the eye would alone make the conditions of +beauty. The "demands of the eye" must be interpreted as the +demands of the eye plus the demands of the motor system,--the +whole psychophysical personality, in short. + +It is in these two principles,--"bodily resonance," and favorable +as opposed to energetic functioning,--and these alone, that we +have a complete refutation of the claim made by many artists +to-day, that the phrase "demands of the eye" embodies a complete +aesthetic theory. The sculptor Adolph Hildebrand, in his +"Problem of Form in the Plastic Art" first set it forth as the +task of the artist "to find a form which appears to have arisen +only from the demands of the eye;"<1> and this doctrine is +to-day so widely held, that it must here be considered at some +length. + +<1> _Das Proablem der form in d. bildenden Kunst_, 1897. + +It is the space-form, all that is seen, and not the object itself, +that is the object of vision. Now in viewing a plastic object +near at hand, the focus of the eye must be constantly changed +between the nearer and further points. In a more distant view, +on the other hand (Hildebrand's "Fernbild"), the contour is +denoted by differences of light and shadow, but it is nevertheless +perceived in a single act of accommodation. Moreover, being +distant, the muscles of accommodation are relaxed; the eye acts +at rest. The "Fernbild" thus gives the only unified picture of +the three-dimensional complex, and hence the only unity of space- +values. In the perception of this unity, the author holds, +consists the essential pleasure which the work of art gives us. +Hildebrand's treatment is difficult, and lends itself to varying +interpretations, which have laid stress now on unity as the +essential of art,<1> now on "the joy in the complete sensuous +experience of the spatial."<2> The latter seems in harmony with +the passage in which Hildebrand says "all pleasure in Form is +pleasure in our not being obliged to create this clearness for +ourselves, in its being created for us, nay, even forced upon +us, by the form itself." + +<1> A. Riehl, _Vierteljahrschr. f. wissenensch. Philos._, xxi, +xxii. +<2> K. Groos, _Der Aesthetische Genuss_, 1902, p. 17. + +But supposing the first interpretation correct: supposing +space-unity, conditioned by the unified and reposeful act of +seeing, to be the beauty we seek--it is at once clear that the +reduction of three dimensions to two does not constitute unity +even for the eye alone; how much less for the motor system of +the whole body, which we have seen must be involved. Hildebrand's +"demands of the eye" resolves itself into the stimulation plus +repose of the ciliary muscle,--the organ of accommodation. A +real unity even for the eye alone would have to include not +only space relations in the third dimension, but relations of +line and mass and color in the flat. As for the "complete +sensuous experience of the spatial" (which would seem to be +equivalent to Berenson's "tactile values"), the "clearness" of +Hildebrand's sentence above quoted, it is evident that +completeness of the experience does not necessarily involve +the positive or pleasurable toning of the experience. The +distinction is that between a beautiful and a completely +realistic picture. + +A further extension or restatement of this theory, in a recent +article,<1> seems to me to express it in the most favorable +way. Beauty is again connected with the functioning of our +organs of perception (Auffassungorgane). "We wish to be put +into a fresh, lively, energetic and yet at the same time +effortless activity.... The pleasure in form is a pleasure +in this, that the conformation of the object makes possible +or rather compels a natural purposeful functioning of our +apprehending organs." But purposeful for what? For visual +form, evidently to the end of seeing clearly. The element of +repose, of unity, hinted at in the "effortless" of the first +sentence, disappears in the second. The organs of apprehension +are evidently limited to the eye alone. It is not the perfect +moment of stimulation and repose for the whole organism which +is aimed at, but the complete sensuous experience of the +spatial, again. + +<1> Th. A. Meyer, "Das Formprinzip des Schouen," _Archiv. f. +Phil._, Bd. x. + +Hildebrand, to return to the more famous theorist, was writing +primarily of sculpture, and would naturally confine himself to +consideration of the plastic, which is an additional reason +against making this interesting brochure, as some have done, +the foundation of an aesthetics. It is rather the foundation +of the sculptor's, perhaps even of the painter's technique, +with reference to plastic elements alone. What it contains +of universal significance, the demand for space-unity, based +on the state of the eye in a union of rest and action, ignores +all but one of the possible sources of rest and action for +the eye, that of accommodation, and all the allied activities +completely. + +On the basis of the favorable stimulations of all these +activities taken together, must we judge as pleasing the so- +called quality of line. But it is clear that we cannot really +separate the question of quality of line from that of form, +figure, and arrangement in space. The motor innervations +enter with the first, and the moment we have form at all, we +have space-composition also. But space-composition means +unity, and unity is the objective quality which must be +translated, in our investigations, into aesthetic repose. It +is thus with the study of composition that we pass from the +study of the elements as favorably stimulating, to the study +of the beauty of visual form. + + +V + +We may begin by asking what, as a matter of fact, has been the +arrangement of spaces to give aesthetic pleasure. The primitive +art of all nations shows that it has taken the direction of +symmetry about a vertical line. It might be said that this is +the result of non-aesthetic influences, such as convenience of +construction, technique, etc. <1>It is clear that much of the +symmetry appearing in primitive art is due (1) to the conditions +of construction, as in the form of dwellings, binding patterns, +weaving and textile patterns generally; (2) to convenience in +use, as in the shapes of spears, arrows, knives, two-handled +baskets or jars; (3) to the imitation of animal forms, as in +the shapes of pottery, etc. On the other hand, (1) a very +great deal of symmetrical ornament maintains itself AGAINST the +suggestions of the shape to which it is applied, as the +ornaments of baskets, pottery, and all rounded objects; and +(2) all distortion, disintegration, degradation of pattern- +motives, often so marked as all but to destroy their meaning, +is in the direction of geometrical symmetry. The early art of +all civilized nations shows the same characteristic. Now it +might be said that, as there exists an instinctive tendency to +imitate visual forms by motor impulses, the impulses suggested +by the symmetrical form are in harmony with the system of +energies of our bilateral organism, which is a system of double +motor innervations, and thus fulfill our demand for a set of +reactions corresponding to the organism as a whole. But we +should then expect that all space arrangements which deviate +from complete symmetry, and thus suggest motor impulses which +do not correspond to the natural bilateral type, would fail to +give aesthetic pleasure. Such, however, is not the case. Non-symmetrical arrangements of space are often extremely pleasing. + +<1> The following is adapted from the author's _Studies in +Symmetry, Harvard Psych. Studies_, vol i, 1902. + +This contradiction disappears if we are able to show that the +apparently non-symmetrical arrangement contains a hidden +symmetry, and that all the elements of that arrangement +contribute to bring about just that bilateral type of motor +impulses which is characteristic of geometrical symmetry. + +A series of experiments was arranged, in which one of two +unequal lines of white on a black background being fixed in +an upright position a certain distance from the centre, the +other was shifted until the arrangement was felt to be pleasing. +It was found that when two lines of different sizes were opposed, +their relative positions corresponded to the relation of the +arms of a balance, that is, a small line far from the centre +was opposed by a large one near the centre. A line pointing +out from the centre fitted this formula if taken as "heavy," +and pointing in, if taken as "light." Similarly, objects of +intrinsic interest and objects suggesting depth in the third +dimension were "heavy" in the same interpretation. All this, +however, did not go beyond the proof that all pleasing space- +arrangements can be described in terms of mechanical balance. +But what was this mechanical balance? A metaphor explains +nothing, and no one will maintain that the visual representation +of a long line weights more than a short one. Moreover, the +elements in the balance were so far heterogeneous. The +movement suggested by an idea had been treated as if equivalent +to the movement actually made by the eye in following a long +line; the intrinsic interest--that is, the ideal interest--of +an object insignificant in form was equated to the attractive +power of a perspective, which has, presumably, a merely +physiological effect on the visual mechanism. + +I believe, however, that the justification of this apparent +heterogeneity, and the basis for explanation, is given in the +reduction of all elements to their lowest term,--as objects +for the expenditure of attention. A large object and an +"interesting" object are "heavy" for the same reason, because +they call out the attention. And expenditure of effort is +expenditure of attention; thus, if an object on the outskirts +of the field of vision requires a wide sweep of the eye to take +it in, it demands the expenditure of attention, and so is felt +as "heavy." But what is "the expenditure of attention" in +physiological terms? It is nothing more than the measure of +the motor impulses directed to the object of attention. And +whether the motor impulse appears as the tendency to follow +out the suggestions of motion in the object, all reduces to +the same physiological basis. + +It may here be objected that our motor impulses are, nevertheless, +still heterogeneous, inasmuch as some are toward the object of +interest, and some along the line of movement. But it must be +said, first, that these are not felt in the body, but transferred +as values of weight to points in the picture,--it is the amount +and not the direction of excitement that is counted; and secondly, +that even if it were not so, the suggested movement along a line +is felt as "weight" at a particular point. + +From this point of view the justification of the metaphor of +mechanical balance is quite clear. Given two lines, the most +pleasing arrangement makes the larger nearer the centre, and +the smaller far from it. This is balanced because the spontaneous +impulse of attention to the near, large line equals in amount +the involuntary expenditure to apprehend the small, farther one. + +We may thus think of a space to be composed as a kind of target, +in which certain spots or territories count more or less, both +according to their distance from the centre and according to what +fills them. Every element of a picture, in whatever way it gains +power to excite motor impulses, is felt as expressing that power +in the flat pattern. A noble vista is understood and enjoyed as +a vista, but it is COUNTED in the motor equation, our "balance," +as a spot of so much intrinsic value at such and such a distance +from the centre. The skillful artist will fill his target in the +way to give the maximum of motor impulses with the perfection of +balance between them. + +It is thus in a kind of substitutional symmetry, or balance, that +we have the objective condition or counterpart of aesthetic +repose, or unity. From this point of view it is clearly seen in +what respect the unity of Hildebrand fails. He demands in the +statue, especially, but also in the picture, the flat surface as +a unity for the three dimensions. But it is only with the flat +space, won, if you will, by Hildebrand's method, that the problem +begins. Every point in the third dimension counts, as has been +said, in the flat. The Fernbild is the beginning of beauty, but +within the Fernbild favorable stimulation and repose must still +be sought. And repose or unity is given by symmetry, subjectively +the balance of attention, inasmuch as this balance is a tension +of antagonistic impulses, an equilibrium, and thus an inhibition +of movement. + +From this point of view, we are in a position to refute Souriau's +interesting analysis<1> of form as the condition for the +appreciation of content. He says that form, in a picture for +instance, has its value in its power to produce (through its +fixation and concentration of the eye) a mild hypnosis, in which, +as is well known, all suggestions come to us with bewildering +vividness. This is, then, just the state in which the contents +of the picture can most vividly impress themselves. Form, then, +as the means to content, by giving the conditions for suggestion, +is Sourieau's account of it. In so far as form--in the sense +of unity--gives, through balance and equilibrium of impulses, +the arrest of the personality, it may indeed be compared with +hypnotism. But this arrest is not only a means, but an end in +itself; that aesthetic repose, which, as the unity of the +personality, is an essential element of the aesthetic emotion +as we have described it. + +<1> _La Suggestion en l'Art_. + + +VI + +There is no point of light or color, no contour, no line, no +depth, that does not contribute to the infinite complex which +gives the maximum of experience with the minimum of effort and +which we call beauty of form. But yet there is another way of +viewing the beautiful object, on which we touched in the +introduction to this chapter. So far, what we see is only +another name for HOW we see; and the way of seeing has proved +to contain enough to bring to stimulation and repose the +psychophysical mechanism. But now we must ask, what relation +has meaning to beauty? Is it an element, coordinate with others, +or something superposed? or is it an end in itself, the supreme +end? What relation to the beauty of form has that quality of +their works by virtue of which Rembrandt is called a dreamer, +and Rodin a poet in stone? What do we mean when we speak of +Sargent as a psychologist? Is it a virtue to be a poet in +stone? If it is, we must somehow include in our concept of +Beauty the element of expression, by showing how it serves the +infinite complex. Or is it not an aesthetic virtue, and Rodin +is great artist and poet combined, and not great artist because +poet, as some would say? What is the relation of the objective +content to beauty of form? In short, what place has the idea +in Beauty? + +In the preceding the place of separate objects which have only +an ideal importance has been made clear. The gold-embroidered +gauntlet in a picture counts as a patch of light, a trend of +line, in a certain spot; but it counts more there, because it +is of interest for itself, and by thus counting more, the idea +has entered into the spatial balance,--the idea has become +itself form. Now it is the question whether all "idea," which +seems so heterogeneous in its relation to form, does not undergo +this transmutation. It is at least of interest to see whether +the facts can be so interpreted. + +We have spoken of ideas a parts of an aesthetic whole. What of +the idea of the whole? Corot used to say he painted a dream, +and it is the dream of an autumn morning we see in his pictures. +Millet portrays the sad majesty and sweetness of the life near +the soil. How must we relate these facts to the views already +won? + +It has often been said that the view which makes the element of +form for the eye alone, in the strictest sense, is erroneous, +because there is no form for the eye alone. The very process +of apprehending a line involves not only motor memories and +impulses, but numberless ideal associations, and these +associations constitute the line as truly as do the others. The +impression of the line involves expression, a meaning which we +cannot escape. The forms of things constitute a kind of dialect +of life,--and thus it is that the theory of Einfuhlung in its +deepest sense is grounded. The Doric column causes in us, no +doubt, motor impulses, but it means, and must mean, to us, the +expression of internal energy through those very impulses it +causes. "We ourselves are contracting our muscles, but we +feel as if the lines were pulling and piercing, bending and +lifting, pressing down and pushing up; in short, as soon as the +visual impression is really isolated, and all other ideas really +excluded, then the motor impulses do not awake actions which are +taken as actions of ourselves, but feelings of energy which are +taken as energies of the visual forms and lines."<1> So the +idea belonging to the object, and the psychophysical effect of +the object are only obverse and inverse of the same phenomenon. +And our pleasure in the form of the column is rather our +appreciation of energy than our feeling of favorable stimulation. +Admitting this reasoning, the meaning of a picture would be the +same as its beauty, it is said. The heroic art of J.-F. Millet, +for example, would be beautiful because it is the perfect +expression of the simplicity and suffering of labor. + +<1> H. Munsterberg, _The Principles of Art Education_, p. 87. + +Let us examine this apparently reasonable theory. It is true +that every visual element is understood as expression too. It +is not true, however, that expression and impression are parallel +and mutually corresponding beyond the elements. Suppose a +concourse of columns covered by a roof,--the Parthenon. Those +psychophysical changes induced by the sight now mutually check +and modify each other. Can we say that there is a "meaning," +like the energy of the column, corresponding to that complex? +It is at least not energy itself. Ask the same as regards the +lines and masses of a picture by Corot. In the sense in which +we have taken "meaning," the only psychologically possible one, +our reactions could be interpreted only by some mood. If the +column means energy because it makes us tower, then the picture +must mean what it makes us do. That is, a combination of +feathery fronds and horizontal lines of water, bathed in a gray- +green silvery mist, can "mean" only a repose lightened by a +grave yet cheerful spirit. In short, this theory of +expressiveness cannot go beyond the mood or moral quality. In +the sense of INFORMATION, the theory of Einfuhlung contributes +nothing. Now, in this limited sense, we have indeed no reason +to contradict it, but simply to point out that it holds only +in this extremely limited sense. When we see broad sweeping +lines we interpret them by sympathetic reproduction as strength, +energy. When those sweeping lines are made part of a Titan's +frame, we get the same effect plus the associations which belong +to distinctively muscular energy. Those same lines might define +the sweep of a drapery, or the curve of an infant's limbs. Now +all that part of the meaning which belongs to the lines +themselves remains constant under whatever circumstances; and +it is quite true that a certain feeling-tone, a certain moral +quality, as it were, belongs, say, to Raphael's pictures, in +which this kind of outline is to be found. But as belonging to +a Titan, the additional elements of understanding are not due +to sympathetic reproduction. They are not parallel with the +motor suggestions; they are simply an associational addition, +due to our information about the power of men with muscles +like that. That there are secondary motor elements as a +reverberation of these ideal elements need not be denied. But +they are not directly due to the form. Now such part of our +response to a picture as is directly induced by the form, we +have a right to include in the aesthetic experience. It will, +however, in every work of art of even the least complexity, +be expressible only as a mood, very indefinite, often +indescribable. To make this "meaning," then, the essential +aim of a picture seems unreasonable. + +It is evident that in experience we do not, as a matter of +fact, separate the mood which is due to sympathy from the +ideal content of the picture. Corot paint a summer dawn. +We cannot separate our pleasure in the sight from our pleasure +in the understanding; yet it is the visual complex that gives +us the mood, and the meaning of the scene is due to factors +of association. The "serene and happy dream," the "conviction +of a solemn and radiant Arcadia," are not "expression" in that +inevitable sense in which we agreed to take it, but the result +of a most extended upbuilding of ideal (that is, associational) +elements. + +The "idea," then, as we have propounded it, is not, as was +thought possible, an integral and essential part, but an +addition to the visual form, and we have still to ask what is +its value. But in so far as it is an addition, its effect +may be in conflict with what we may call the feeling-tone +produced by sympathetic reproduction. In that case, one must +yield to the other. Now it is not probably that even the most +convinced adherents of the expression theory would hold that +if expression or beauty MUST go, expression should be kept. +They only say that expression IS beauty. But the moment it is +admitted that there is a beauty of form independent of the +ideal element, this theory can no longer stand. If there is +a conflict, the palm must be given to the direct, rather than +the indirect, factor. Indeed, when there is such a conflict, +the primacy must always be with the medium suited to the organ, +the sensuous factor. For if it were not so, and expression +WERE beauty, then that would have to be most beautiful which +was most expressive. And even if we disregard the extraordinary +conclusions to which this would lead,--the story pictures +preferred to those without a story, the photographic reproductions +preferred to the symphonies of color and form,--we should be +obliged to admit something still more incendiary. Expression +is always of an ideal content, is of something to express; and +it is unquestioned that in words, and in words alone, can we +get nearest to the inexpressible. Then literature, as being +the most expressive, would be the highest art, and we should be +confronted with a hierarchy of arts, from that down. + +Now, in truth, the real lover of beauty knows that no one art +is superior to another. "Each in his separate star," they reign +alone. In order to be equal, they must depend on their material, +not on that common quality of imaginative thought which each has +in a differing degree, and all less than literature. + +The idea, we conclude, is then indeed subordinate,--a by-product, +unless by chance it can enter into, melt into, the form. This +case we have clearest in the example, already referred to, of +the gold-embroidered gauntlet, or the jeweled chalice,--say the +Holy Grail in Abbey's pictures,--which counts more or less, in +the spatial balance, according to its intrinsic interest. + +We have seen that through sympathetic reproduction a certain +mood is produced, which becomes a kind of emotional envelope +for the picture,--a favorable stimulation of the whole, a +raising of the whole harmony one tone, as it were. Now the +further ideal content of the picture may so closely belong to +this basis that it helps it along. Thus all that we know about +dawn--not only of a summer morning--helps us to see, and seeing +to rejoice, in Corot's silvery mist or Monet's iridescent +shimmers. All that we know and feel about the patient majesty +of labor in the fields, next the earth, helps us to get the +slow, large rhythm, the rich gloom of Millet's pictures. But +it is the rhythm and the gloom that are the beauty, and the +idea reinforces our consciousness thereof. The idea is a +sounding-board for the beauty, and so can be truly said to +enter into the form. + +But there are still some lions in the path of our theory. The +greatest of modern sculptors is reputed to have reached his +present altitude by the passionate pursuance of Nature, and of +the expressions of Nature. And few can see Rodin's work +without being at once in the grip of the emotion or fact he +has chosen to depict. A great deal of contemporary criticism +on modern tendencies in art rests on the intention of +expression, and expression alone, attributed to him. It is +said of him: "The solicitude for ardent expression overmasters +every aesthetic consideration.... He is a poet with stone as +his instrument of expression. He makes it express emotions +that are never found save in music or in psychological and +lyric literature."<1> + +<1> C. Mauclair, "The Decorative Sculpture of August Rodin," +_International Monthly_, vol iii. + +Now while the last is undoubtedly true, I believe that the +first is not only not true, but that it is proved to be so by +Rodin's own procedure and utterances, and that, if we understand +his case aright, it is for beauty alone that he lives. He has +related his search for the secret of Michael Angelo's design, +and how he found it in the rhythm of two planes rather than four, +the Greek composition. This system of tormented form is one way +of referring the body to the geometry of an imagined rectangular +block inclosing the whole. + +<1>"The ordinary Greek composition of the body, he puts it, +depends on a rhythm of four lines, four volumes, four planes. +If the line of the shoulders and pectorals slopes from right +to left (the man resting on his right leg) the line across the +hips takes the reverse slope, and is followed by that of the +knees, while the line of the first echoes that of the shoulders. +Thus we get the rhythm ABBA, and the balancing volumes set up +a corresponding play of planes. Michael Angelo so turns the +body on itself that he reduces the four to two big planes, one +facing, the other swept round to the side of the block." That +is, he gets geometrical enveloping lines for his design. And, +in fact, there is no sculpture which is more wonderful in +design than Rodin's. I quote Mr. MacColl again. "It has been +said that the 'Bourgeois de Calais' is a group of single +figures, possessing no unity of design, or at best affording +only a single point of view. Those who say so have never +examined it with attention. The way in which these figures +move among themselves, as the spectator walks round, so as to +produce from every fresh angle sweeping commanding lines, each +of them thus playing a dozen parts at once, is surely one of +the most astounding feats of the genius of design. Nothing in +the history of art is exactly comparable with it." + +<1> D. S. MacColl, _Nineteenth Century Art_, 1902, p. 101. + +In short, it is the design, for all his words, that Rodin cares +for. He calls it Nature, because he sees, and can see Nature +only that way. But as he said to some one who suggested that +there might be a danger in too close devotion to Nature, "Yes, +for a mediocre artist!" It is for the sake of the strange new +beauty, "the unedited poses," "the odd beautiful huddle<1> of +lines," in a stopping or squatting form, that all these wild +and subtle moments are portrayed. The limbs must be adjusted +or surprised in some pattern beyond their own. The ideas are +the occasion and the excuse for new outlines,--that is all. + +<1> Said of Degas. MacColl. + +This is all scarcely less true of Millet, whom we have known +above all as the painter who has shown the simple common lot +of labor as divine. But he, too, is artist for the sake of +beauty first. He sees two peasant women, one laden with grass, +the other with fagots. "From far off, they are superb, they +balance their shoulders under the weight of fatigue, the +twilight swallows their forms. It is beautiful, it is great +as a myster."<1> + +<1> Sensier, _Vie et Oeuvre de J.-F. Millet_. + +The idea is, as I said, from this point of view, a means to +new beauty; and the stranger and subtler the idea, the more +original the forms. The more unrestrained the expression of +emotion in the figures, the more chance to surprise them in +some new lovely pattern. It is thus, I believe, that we may +interpret the seeming trend of modern sculpture, and so much, +indeed, of all modern art, to the "expressive beauty" path. +"The mediocre artist" will lose beauty in seeking expression, +the great artist will pursue his idea for the sake of the +new beauty it will yield. + +Thus it seems that the stumbling blocks in the way of our +theory are not insurmountable after all. From every point +of view, it is seen to be possible to transmute the idea into +a helpmeet to the form. Visual beauty is first beauty to the +eye and to the frame, and the mind cherishes and enriches +this beauty with all its own stored treasures. The stimulation +and repose of the psychophysical organism alone can make one +thrill to visual form; but the thrill is deeper and more +satisfying if it engage the whole man, and be reinforced from +all sources. + + +VII + +But we ought to note a borderland in which the concern is +professedly not with beauty, but with ideas of life. Aristotle's +lover of knowledge, who rejoiced to say of a picture "This is +that man," is the inspirer of drawing as opposed to the art of +visual form. + +It is not beauty we seek from the Rembrandt and Durer of the +etchings and woodcuts, from Hogarth, Goya, Klinger, down to +Leech and Keene and Du Maurier; it is not beauty, but ideas,-- +information, irony, satire, life-philosophy. Where there is +a conflict, beauty, as we have defined it, goes to the wall. +We may trace, perhaps, the ground of this in the highly increased +amount of symbolic, associative power given, and required, in +the black and white. Even to understand such a picture demands +such an enormous amount of unconscious mental supplementation +that it is natural to find the aesthetic centre of gravity in +that element. + +The first conditions of the work, that is, determine its trend +and aim. The part played by imagination in our vision of an +etching is and must be so important, that it is, after all, the +imaginative part which outweighs the given. Nor do we desire the +given to infringe upon the ideal field. Thus do we understand +that for most drawings a background vague and formless is the +desideratum. "Such a tone is the foil for psychological +moments, as they are handled by Goya, for instance, with +barbarically magnificent nakedness. On a background which is +scarcely indicated, with few strokes, which barely suggest +space, he impales like a butterfly the human type, mostly in a +moment of folly or wickedness.... The least definition of +surrounding would blunt his (the artist's) keenness, and make +his vehemence absurd."<1> + +<1> Max Klinger, _Malerei u. Zeichnung_, 1903, p. 42. + +This theory of the aim of black and white is confirmed by the +fact that while a painting is composed for the size in which it +is painted, and becomes another picture if reproduced in another +measure, the size of drawings is relatively indifferent; reduced +or enlarged, the effect is approximately the same, because what +is given to the eye is such a small proportion of the whole +experience. The picture is only the cue for a complete structure +of ideas. + +Here is a true case of Anders-Streben, that "partial alienation +from its own limitations, by which the arts are able, not indeed +to supply the place of each other, but reciprocally to lend each +other new forces."<1> It is by its success as representation +that the art of the burin and needle--Griffelkunst, as Klinger +names it--ought first to be judged. This is not saying that it +may not also possess beauty of form to a high degree,--only that +this beauty of form is not its characteristic excellence. + +<1> W. Pater, _The Renaissance: Essay on Giorgione_. + +In what consists the beauty of visual form? If this question +could be answered in a sentence our whole discussion of the +abstract formula for beauty would have been unnecessary. But +since we know what the elements of visual form must do to bring +about the aesthetic experience, it has been the aim of the +preceding pages to show how those elements must be determined +and related. The eye, the psychophysical organism, must be +favorably stimulated; these, and such colors, combinations, +lines as we have described, are fitted to do it. It must be +brought to repose; these, and such relations between lines and +colors as we have set forth, are fitted to do it, for reasons +we have given. It is to the eye and all that waits upon it +that the first and the last appeal of fine art must be made; +and in so far as the emotion or the idea belonging to a +picture or a statue waits upon the eye, in so far does it +enter into the characteristic excellence, that is, the beauty +of visual form. + + +B. SPACE COMPOSITION AMONG THE OLD MASTERS + +I + +THE preceding pages have set forth the concrete facts of +visible beauty, and the explanation of our feelings about it. +It is also interesting, however, to see how these principles +are illustrated and confirmed in the masterpieces of art. A +statistical study, undertaken some years ago with the purpose +of dealing thus with the hypothesis of substitutional symmetry +in pictorial composition, has given abundance of material, +which I shall set forth, at otherwise disproportionate length, +as to a certain extent illustrative of the methods of such +study. It is clear that this is but one of many possible +investigations in which the preceding psychological theories +may be further illuminated. The text confines itself to +pictures; but the functions of the elements of visual form +are valid as well for all visual art destined to fill a bounded +area. The discussion will then be seen to be only ostensibly +limited in its reference. For picture might always be read +space arrangement within a frame. + +In the original experimental study of space arrangements, the +results of which were given at length on page 111, the elements +of form in a picture were reduced to SIZE or MASS, DEPTH in the +third dimension, DIRECTION, and INTEREST. Direction was further +analyzed into direction of MOTION or ATTENTION (of persons or +objects in the picture), an ideal element, that is; and direction +of LINE. For the statistical study, a given picture was then +divided in half by an imaginary vertical line, and the elements +appearing on each side of this line were set off against each +other to see how far they lent themselves to description by +substitutional symmetry. Thus: in B. van der Helst's "Portrait +of Paul Potter," the head of the subject is entirely to left +of the central line, as also his full face and frontward glance. +His easel is right, his body turned sharply to right, and both +hands, one holding palette and brushes, are stretched down to +right. Thus the greater mass is to the left, and the general +direction of line is to the right; elements of interest in the +head, left; in implements, right. This may be schematized in +the equation (Lt.)M.+I.=(Rt.)I.+L. + +Pieter de Hooch, "The Card-Players," in Buckingham Palace, +portrays a group completely on the right of the central line, +all facing in to the table between them. Directly behind them +is a high light window, screened, and high on the wall to the +extreme right are a picture and hanging cloaks. All goes to +emphasize the height, mass, and interest of the right side. +On the left, which is otherwise empty, is a door half the +height of the window, giving on a brightly lighted courtyard, +from which is entering a woman, also in light clothing. The +light streams in diagonally across the floor. Thus, with all +the "weight" on the right, the effect of this deep vista on +the left and of its brightness is to give a complete balance, +while the suggestion of line from doorway and light makes, +together with the central figure, a roughly outlined V, which +serves to bind together all the elements. Equation, (Lt.)V.+I. +=(Rt.)M.+I. + +The thousand pictures on which the study was based<1> were +classified for convenience into groups,--Religious, Portrait, +Genre, and Landscape. It was found on analysis that the +functions of the elements came out clearly, somewhat as follows. + +<1> One thousand reproductions of old masters from F. Bruckmann's +_Classischer Bilderschatz_, Munich, omitting frescoes and +pictures of which less than the whole was given. + +Of the religious pictures, only the "Madonnas Enthroned" and +other altar-pieces are considered at this point as presenting a +simple type, in which it is easy to show the variations from +symmetry. In all these pictures the balance comes in between +the interest in the Infant Christ, sometimes together with +direction of attention to him, on one side, and other elements +on the other. When the first side is especially "heavy" the +number of opposing elements increases, and especially takes +the form of vista and line, which have been experimentally +found to be powerful in attracting attention. Where there are +no surrounding worshipers, we notice remarkable frequency in +the use of vista and line, and, in general, balance is brought +about through the disposition of form rather than of interests. +The reason for this would appear to be that the lack of +accessories in the persons of saints, worshipers, etc., and +the consequent increase in the size of Madonna and Child in +the picture, heightens the effect of any given outline, and so +makes the variations from symmetry greater. This being the +case, the compensations would be stronger; and as we have +learned that vista and line are of this character, we see why +they are needed. + +The portrait class is an especially interesting object for +study, inasmuch as while its general type is very simple and +constant, for this very reason the slightest variations are +sharply felt, and have their very strongest characteristic +effect. The general type of the portrait composition is, of +course, the triangle with the head at the apex, and this point +is also generally in the central line; nevertheless, great +richness of effect is brought about by emphasizing variations. +For instance, the body and head are, in the great majority of +cases, turned in the same way, giving the strongest possible +emphasis to the direction of attention,--especially powerful, +of course, where all the interest is in the personality. But +it is to be observed that the very strongest suggestion of +direction is given by the direction of the glance; and in no +case, when most of the other elements are directed in one way, +does the glance fail to come backward. With the head on one +side of the central line, of course the greatest interest is +removed to one side, and the element of direction is brought +in to balance. Again, with this decrease in symmetry, we see +a significant increase in the use of the especially effective +elements, vista and line. In fact, the use of the small deep +vista is almost confined to the class with heads not in the +middle. The direction of the glance also plays an important +part. Very often the direction of movement alone is not +sufficient to balance the powerful M.+I. of the other side, +and the eye has to be attracted by a definite object of interest. +This is usually the hand, with or without an implement,--like +the palette, etc., of our first examples,--or a jewel, vase, +or bit of embroidery. This is very characteristic of the +portraits of Rembrandt and Van Dyck. + +In general, it may be said that (1) portraits with the head in +the centre of the frame show a balance between the direction +of suggested movement on one side, and mass or direction of +attention, or both together, on the other; while (2) portraits +with the head not in the centre show a balance between mass +and interest on one side, and direction of attention, or of +line, or vista, or combinations of these, on the other. + +Still more unsymmetrical in their framework than portraits, in +fact the most unfettered type of all, are the genre pictures. +As these are pictures with a human interest, and full of action +and particular points of interest, it was to be expected that +interest would be the element most frequently appearing. In +compositions showing great variations from geometrical symmetry, +it was also to be expected that vista and line, elements which +have been noted comparatively seldom up to this point, should +suddenly appear strongly; for, as being the most strikingly +"heavy" of the elements, they serve to compensate for other +variations combined. + +The landscape is another type of unfettered composition. It +was of course to be expected that in pictures without action +there should be little suggestion of attention or of direction +of movement. But the most remarkable point is the presence +of vista in practically every example. It is, of course, +natural that somewhere in almost every picture there should +be a break to show the horizon line, for the sake of variety, +if for nothing else; but what is significant is the part played +by this break in the balancing of the picture. In about two +thirds of the examples the vista is inclosed by lines, or +masses, and when near the centre, as being at the same time the +"heaviest" part of the picture, it serves as a fulcrum or centre +to bind the parts--always harder to bring together than in the +other types of pictures--into a close unity. The most frequent +form of this arrangement is a diagonal, which just saves itself +by turning up at its far end. Thus the mass, and hence usually +the special interest of the picture, is on the one side, on +the other the vista and the sloping line of the diagonal. In +very few cases is the vista behind an attractive or noticeable +part of the picture, the fact showing that it acts in opposition +to the latter, leading the eye away from it, and thus serving at +once the variety and richness of the picture, and its unity. A +complete diagonal would have line and vista both working at the +extreme outer edge of the picture, and thus too strongly,-- +unless, indeed, balanced by very striking elements near the +outer edge. + +This function of the vista as a unifying element is of interest +in connection with the theory of Hildebrand,<1> that the landscape +should have a narrow foreground and wide background, since that +is most in conformity with our experience. He adduces Titian's +"Sacred and Profane Love" as an example. But of the general +principle it may be said that not the reproduction of nature, +but the production of beauty, is the aim of composition, and that +this aim is best reached by focusing the eye by a narrow background, +i.e. vista. No matter how much it wanders, it returns to that +central spot and is held there, keeping hold on all the other +elements. Of Hildebrand's example it may be said that the +pyramidal composition, with the dark and tall tree in the centre, +effectually accomplishes the binding together of the two figures, +so that a vista is not needed. A wide background without that +tree would leave them rather disjointed. + +<1> Op cit., p. 55. + +In general, it may be said that balance in landscape is effected +between mass and interest on one side and vista and line on the +other; and that union is given especially by the use of vista. + + +II + +The experimental treatment of the isolated elements detected +the particular function of each in distributing attention in +the field of view. But while all are possibly operative in a +given picture, some are given, as we have seen, much more +importance than others, and in pictures of different types +different elements predominate. In those classes with a +general symmetrical framework, such as the altar and Madonna +pieces, the elements of interest and direction of attention +determine the balance, for they appear as variations in a +symmetry which has already, so to speak, disposed of mass and +line. They give what action there is, and where they are very +strongly operative, they are opposed by salient lines and deep +vistas, which act more strongly on the attention than does mass. +Interest keeps its predominance throughout the types, except in +the portraits, where the head is usually in the central line. +But even among the portraits it has a respectable representation, +as jewels, embroideries, beautiful hands, etc., count largely +too in composition. + +The direction of attention is most operative among the portraits. +Since these pictures represent no action, it must be given by +those elements which move and distribute the attention; in +accordance with which principle we find line also unusually +influential. As remarked above, altar-pieces and Madonna pictures, +also largely without action, depend largely for it on the direction +of attention. + +The vista, as said above, rivets and confines the attention. We +can, therefore, understand how it is that in the genre pictures it +appears very numerous. The active character of these pictures +naturally requires to be modified, and the vista introduces a +powerful balancing element, which is yet quiet; or, it might be +said, inasmuch as energy is certainly expended in plunging down +the third dimension, the vista introduces an element of action +of counterbalancing character. In the landscape it introduces +the principal element of variety. It is always to be found in +those parts of the picture which are opposed to other powerful +elements, and the "heavier" the other side, the deeper the vista. +Also in pictures with two groups it serves as a kind of fulcrum, +or unifying element, inasmuch as it rivets the attention between +the two detached sides. + +The direction of suggestion by means of the indication of a line, +quite naturally is more frequent in the Madonna picture and +portrait classes. Both these types are of large simple outline, +so that line would be expected to tell. In a decided majority +of cases, combined with vista--the shape being more or less a +diagonal slope--it is clear that it acts as a kind of bond +between the two sides, carrying the attention without a break +from one to the other. + +The element of mass requires less comment. It appears in +greatest number in those pictures which have little action, i.e. portraits and landscapes, and which are not yet symmetrical,-- +in which last case mass is, of course, already balanced. In +fact, it must of necessity exert a certain influence in every +unsymmetrical picture, and so its percentage, even for genre +pictures, is large. + +Thus we may regard the elements as both attracting attention to +a certain spot and dispersing it over a field. Those types +which are of a static character (landscapes, altar-pieces) +abound in elements which disperse the attention; those which +are of a dynamic character (genre picture), in those which make +it stable. The ideal composition seems to combine the dynamic +and static elements,--to animate, in short, the whole field of +view, but in a generally bilateral fashion. The elements, in +substitutional symmetry, are then simply means of introducing +variety and action. As a dance in which there are complicated +steps gives the actor and beholder a varied and thus vivified +"balance," and is thus more beautiful than the simple walk, so +a picture composed in substitutional symmetry is more rich in +its suggestions of motor impulse, and thus more beautiful, than +an example of geometrical symmetry. + + +III + +The particular functions of the elements which are substituted +for geometrical symmetry have been made clear; their presence +lends variety and richness to the balance of motor impulses. +But this quality of repose, or unity, given by balance, is also +enriched by a unity for intuition,--a large outline in which all +the elements are held together. Now this way of holding together +varies; and I believe that it bears a very close relation to the +subject and purpose of the picture. + +Examples of these types of composition may best be found by +analyzing a few well-known pictures. We may begin with the class +first studied, the Altar-piece, choosing a picture by Botticelli, +in the Florence Academy. Under an arch is draped a canopy held +up by angels; under this, again, sits the Madonna with the Child +on her lap, on a throne, at the foot of which, on each side, +stand three saints. The outline of the whole is markedly +pyramidal; in fact, there are, broadly speaking, three pyramids, +--of the arch, the canopy, and the grouping. A second, much +less symmetrical example of this type, is given by another +Botticelli in the Academy,--"Spring." Here the central female +figure, topped by the floating Cupid, is slightly raised above +the others, which, however, bend slightly inward, so that a +triangle, or pyramid with very obtuse angle at the apex, is +suggested; and the whole, which at first glance seems a little +scattered, is at once felt, when this is grasped, as closely +bound together. + +Closely allied to this is the type of the Holbein "Madonna of +Burgomaster Meyer," in the Grand Ducal Castle, Darmstadt. It +is true that the same pyramid is given by the head of the +Madonna against the shell-like background, and her spreading +cloak which envelops the kneeling donors. But still more +salient is the diamond form given by the descending rows of +these worshiping figures, especially against the dark background +of the Madonna's dress. A second example, without the pyramid +backing, is found in Rubens's "Rape of the Daughters of +Leucippus," in the Alte Pinakothek at Munich. Here the diamond +shape formed by the horses and struggling figures is most +remarkable,--an effect of lightness which will be discussed +later in interpreting the types. + +A third type, the diagonal, is given in an "Evening Landscape" +by Cuyp, in the Buckingham Palace, London. High trees and +cliffs, horsemen and others, occupy one side, and the mountains +in the background, the ground and the clouds, all slope +gradually down to the other side. + +It is a natural transition from this type to the V-shape of the +landscapes by Aart van der Neer, "Dutch Villages," in the London +National Gallery and in the Rudolphinum at Prague, respectively. +Here are trees and houses on each side, gradually sloping to +the centre to show an open sky and deep vista. Other examples, +of course, show the opening not exactly in the centre. + +In the "Concert" by Giorgione, in the Pitti Gallery, Florence, +is seen the less frequent type of the square. The three +figures turned toward each other with heads on the same level +make almost a square space-shape, although it might be said +that the central player gives a pyramidal foundation. This +last may also be said of Verrocchio's "Tobias and the +Archangels" in the Florence Academy, for the square, or other +rectangle, is again lengthened by the pyramidal shape of the +two central figures. The unrelieved square, it may here be +interpolated, is not often found except in somewhat primitive +examples. Still less often observed is the oval type of +"Samson's Wedding Feast," Rembrandt, in the Royal Gallery, +Dresden. Here one might, by pressing the interpretation, see +an obtuse-angled double-pyramid with the figure of Delilah for +an apex, but a few very irregular pictures seem to fall best +under the given classification. + +Last of all, it must be remarked that the great majority of +pictures show a combination of two or even three types; but +these are usually subordinated to one dominant type. Such, +for instance, is the case with many portraits, which are +markedly pyramidal, with the double-pyramid suggested by the +position of the arms, and the inverted pyramid, or V, in the +landscape background. The diagonal sometimes just passes over +into the V-shape, or into the pyramid; or the square is +combined with both. + +What types are characteristic of the different kinds of pictures? +In order to answer this question we must ask first, What are the +different kinds of pictures? One answer, at least, is at once +suggested to the student on a comparison of the pictures with +their groupings according to subjects. All those which represent +the Madonna enthroned, with all variations, with or without +saints, shepherds, or Holy Family, are very quiet in their action; +that is, it is not really an action at all which they represent, +but an attitude,--the attitude of contemplation. This is no +less true of the pictures we may call "Adorations," in which, +indeed, the contemplative attitude is still more marked. On the +other hand, such pictures as the "Descents," the "Annunciations," +and very many of the miscellaneous religious, allegorical, and +genre pictures, portray a definite action or event. Now the +pyramid type is characteristic of the "contemplative" pictures +in a much higher degree. A class which might be supposed to +suggest the same treatment in composition is that of the portraits, +--absolute lack of action being the rule. And we find, indeed, +that no single type is represented within it except the pyramid +and double-pyramid, with eighty-six per cent. of the former. +Thus it is evident that for the type of picture which expresses +the highest degree of quietude, contemplation, concentration, +the pyramid is the characteristic type of composition. Among +the so-called "active" pictures, the diagonal and V-shaped types +are most numerous. + +The landscape picture presents a somewhat different problem. It +cannot be described as either "active" or "passive," inasmuch as +it does not express either an attitude or an event. There is no +definite idea to be set forth, no point of concentration, as +with the altar-pieces and the portraits, for instance; and yet +a unity is demanded. An examination of the proportions of the +types shows at once the characteristic type to be here also the +diagonal and V-shaped. + +It is now necessary to ask what must be the interpretation of +the use of these types of composition. Must we consider the +pyramid the expression of passivity, the diagonal or V-shape, of +activity? But the greatly predominating use of the second for +landscapes would remain unexplained, for at least nothing can +be more reposeful than the latter. It may aid the solution of +the problem to remember that the composition taken as a whole +has to meet the demand for unity, at the same time that it +allows free play to the natural expression of the subject. The +altar-piece has to bring about a concentration of attention to +express or induce a feeling of reverence. This is evidently +accomplished by the suggestion of the converging lines to the +fixation of the high point in the picture,--the small area +occupied by the Madonna and Child,--and by the subordination +of the free play of other elements. The contrast between the +broad base and the apex gives a feeling of solidity, of repose; +and it seems not unreasonable to suppose that the tendency to +rest the eyes above the centre of the picture directly induces +the associated mood of reverence or worship. Thus the +pyramidal form serves two ends; primarily that of giving unity, +and secondarily, by the peculiarity of its shape, that of +inducing the feeling-tone appropriate to the subject of the +picture. + +Applying this principle to the so-called "active" pictures, we +see that the natural movement of attention between the different +"actors" in the picture must be allowed for, while yet unity is +secured. And it is clear that the diagonal type is just fitted +for this. The attention sweeps down from the high side to the +low, from which it returns through some backward suggestion of +lines or interest in the objects of the high side. Action and +reaction--movement and return of attention--is inevitable under +the conditions of this type; and this it is which allows the +free play,--which, indeed, CONSTITUTES and expresses the activity +belonging to the subject, just as the fixation of the pyramid +constitutes the quietude of the religious picture. Thus it is +that the diagonal composition is particularly suited to portray +scenes of grandeur, and to induce a feeling of awe in the +spectator, because only here can the eye rove in one large sweep +from side to side of the picture, recalled by the mass and +interest of the side from which it moves. The swing of the +pendulum is here widest, so to speak, and all the feeling-tones +which belong to wide, free movement are called into play. If, +at the same time, the element of the deep vista is introduced, +we have the extreme of concentration combined with the extreme +of movement; and the result is a picture in the "grand style" +--comparable to high tragedy--in which all the feeling-tones +which wait on motor impulses are, as it were, while yet in the +same reciprocal relation, tuned to the highest pitch. Such a +picture is the "Finding of the Ring," Paris Bordone, in the +Venice Academy. All the mass and the interest and the suggestion +of the downward lines and of the magnificent perspective toward +the left, and the effect of the whole space composition is of +superb largeness of life and feeling. Compare Titian's +"Presentation of the Virgin," also the two great compositions +by Veronese, "Martyrdom of St. Mark," etc., in the Doge's Palace, +Venice, and "Esther before Ahaseurus," in the Uffizi, Florence. +In these last two, the mass, direction of interest, movement, +and attention are toward the left, while all the lines tend +diagonally to the right, where a vista is also suggested,--the +diagonal making a V just at the end. Here, too, the effect is +of magnificence and vigor. + +If, then, the pyramid belongs to contemplation, the diagonal +to action, what ca be said of landscape? It is without action, +it is true, and yet does not express that positive quality, that +WILL not to act, of the rapt contemplation. The landscape +uncomposed is negative, and it demands unity. Its type of +composition, then, must give it something positive besides +unity. It lacks both concentration and action; but it can gain +them both from a space composition which shall combine unity +with a tendency to movement. And this is given by the diagonal +and V-shaped type. This type merely allows free play to the +natural tendency of the "active" picture; but it constrains the +neutral, inanimate landscape. The shape itself imparts motion +to the picture: the sweep of line, the concentration of the +vista, the unifying power of the inverted triangle between two +masses, act, as it were, externally to the suggestion of the +object itself. There is always enough quiet in a landscape,-- +the overwhelming suggestion of the horizontal suffices for +that; it is movement that is needed for richness of effect, and, +as I have shown, no type imparts the feeling of movement so +strongly as the diagonal and V-shaped type of composition. +Landscapes need energy to produce "stimulation," not repression, +and so the diagonal type is proportionately more numerous. + +The rigid square is found only at an early stage in the +development of composition. Moreover, all the examples are +"story" pictures, for the most part scenes from the lives of +the saints, etc. Many of them are double-centre,--square, that +is, with a slight break in the middle, the grouping purely +logical, to bring out the relations of the characters. Thus, +in the "Dream of Saint Martin," Simone Martini, a fresco at +Assisi, the saint lies straight across the picture with his +head in one corner. Behind him on one side stand the Christ +and angels, grouped closely together, their heads on the same +level. These are all, of course, in one sense symmetrical,-- +in the weight of interest, at least,--but they are completely +amorphous from an aesthetic point of view. The forms, that is, +do not count at all,--only the meanings. The story is told by +a clear separation of the parts, and as, in most stories, there +are two principal actors, it merely happens that they fall into +the two sides of the picture. On the other hand, a rigid +geometrical symmetry is also characteristic of early composition, +and these two facts seem to contradict each other. But it is +to be noted, first, that the rigid geometrical symmetry belongs +only to the "Madonna Enthroned," and general "Adoration" pieces; +and secondly, that this very rigidity of symmetry in details +can coexist with variations which destroy balance. Thus, in a +"Madonna Enthroned" of Giotto, where absolute symmetry in detail +is kept, the Child sits far out on the right knee of the Madonna. + +It would seem that the symmetry of these early pictures was not +dictated by a conscious demand for symmetrical arrangement, or +rather for real balance, else such failures would hardly occur. +The presence of geometrical symmetry is more easily explained +as the product, in large part, of technical conditions: of the +fact that these pictures were painted as altar-pieces to fill +a space definitely symmetrical in character--often, indeed, +with architectural elements intruding into it. We may even +connect the Madonna pictures with the temple images of the +classic period, to explain why it was natural to paint the +object of worship seated exactly facing the worshiper. Thus +we may separate the two classes of pictures, the one giving an +object of worship, and thus taking naturally, as has been said, +the pyramidal, symmetrical shape, and being moulded to symmetry +by all other suggestions of technique; the other aiming at +nothing except logical clearness. This antithesis of the +symbol and the story has a most interesting parallel in the two +great classes of primitive art--the one symbolic, merely suggestive, +shaped by the space it had to fill, and so degenerating into the +slavishly symmetrical; the other descriptive, "story-telling," and +without a trace of space composition. On neither side is there +evidence of direct aesthetic feeling. Only in the course of +artistic development do we find the rigid, yet often unbalanced, +symmetry relaxing into a free substitutional symmetry, and the +formless narrative crystallizing into a really unified and +balanced space-form. The two antitheses approach each other in +the "balance" of the masterpieces of civilized art--in which, for +the first time, a real feeling for space composition makes itself +felt. + + + +V +THE BEAUTY OF MUSIC + + +V +THE BEAUTY OF MUSIC + +I + +THERE is a story, in Max Muller's amusing reminiscences, of +how Mendelssohn and David once played, in his hearing, Beethoven's +later sonatas for piano and violin, and of how they shrugged +their shoulders, and opined the old man had not been quite +himself when he wrote them. In the history of music it seems +to be a rule almost without exceptions, that the works of genius +are greeted with contumely. The same is no doubt true, though +to a much less degree, of other arts, but in music it seems that +the critics proposed also excellent reasons for their vehemence. +And it is instructive to observe that the objections, and the +reasons for the objections, recur, after the original object of +wrath has passed into acceptance, nay, into dominance of the +musical world. One may also descry one basic controversy running +through all these utterances, even when not explicitly set forth. + +It was made a reproach to Beethoven, as it has been made a +reproach to Richard Strauss, that he sacrificed the beauty of +form to expression; and it was rejoined, perhaps less in the old +time than now, that expression was itself the end and meaning of +music. Now the works of genius, as we have seen, after all take +care of themselves. But it is of greatest significance for the +theory of music, as of all art, that in the circle of the years, +the same contrasting views, grown to ever sharper opposition, +still greet the appearance of new work. It was with Wagner, as +all the world knows, that the question came first to complete +formulation. His invention of the music-drama rested on his +famous theory of music as the heightened medium of expression, +glorified speech, which accordingly demands freedom to follow +all the varying nuances of feeling and emotion. Music has +always been called the language of the emotions, but Wagner +based his views not only on the popular notion, but on the +metaphysical theories of Schopenhauer; in particular, on the +view that music is the objectification of the will. Herbert +Spencer followed with the thesis that music has its essential +source in the cadences of emotional speech. In opposition +primarily to Wagner, the so-called formalists were represented +by Hanslick, who wrote his well-known "The Beautiful in Music" +to show that though music ha a limited capacity of expression, +its aim is formal or logical perfection alone. The expressionist +school could not contradict the undoubted fact that chords and +intervals which are harmonious show certain definite physical +and mathematical relationships, that, in other words, our +musical preferences appear to be closely related to, if not +determined by, these relationships. Thus each school seemed +to be backed by science. The emotional-speech theory has been +held in a vague way, indeed, by most of those theorists whose +natural conservatism would have drawn them in the other +direction, and is doubtless responsible for the attempts at +mediation, first made by Ambros,<1> and now met in almost all +musical literature. Music may be, and is, expressive, it is +said, so long as each detail allows itself to be entirely +derived from and justified by the mere formal element. The +"centre of gravity" lies in the formal relations. + +<1> _The Boundaries of Music and Poetry._ + +To this, after all, Hanslick himself might subscribe. Other +writers seek to balance form and expression, insisting on +"the dual nature of music," while resting ultimately on the +emotional-speech theory. "The most universal composers, +recognizing the interdependence of the two elements, produce +the highest type of pure music, music in which beauty is based +upon expression, and expression transfigured by beauty."<1> + +<1> D.G. Mason, _From Grieg to Brahms_, 1902, p. 30. + +This usual type of reconciliation, however, is a perfectly +mechanical binding together of two possibly conflicting +aesthetic demands. The question is of the essential nature +of music, not whether music may be, but whether it must be, +expressive; not whether is has expressive power, but whether +it is, in its essence, expression,--a question which is only +obscured by insisting on the interdependence of the two +elements. If music has its essential source in the cadences +of speech, then it must develop and must be judged accordingly. +Herbert Spencer is perfectly logical in saying "It may be +shown that music is but an idealization of the natural +language of emotion, and that, consequently, music must be +good or bad according as it conforms to the laws of this +natural language."<1> But what, then, of music which, +according to Ambros, is justified by its formal relations? +Is music good because it is very expressive, and bad because +it is too little expressive? or is its goodness and badness +independent of its expressiveness? Such a question is not +to be answered by recognizing two kinds of goodness. Only +by an attempt to decide the fundamental nature of the musical +experience, and an adjustment of the other factors in strict +subordination to it, can the general principle be settled. + +<1> _On Educaiton_, p. 41. + +The excuse for this artificial yoking together of two opposing +principles is apparent when it is seen that form and expression +are taken as addressing themselves to two different mental +faculties. It seems to be the view of most musical theorists +that the experience of musical form is a perception, while the +experience of musical expression, disregarding for the moment +the suggestion of facts and ideas, is an emotion. Thus Mr. +Mason: "In music we are capable of learning, and knowledge +of the principles of musical effect can help us to learn, that +the balance and proportion and symmetry of the whole is far +more essential than any poignancy, however great, in the parts. +He best appreciates music...who understands it intellectually +as well as feels it emotionally;"<1> and again, "We feel in +the music of Haydn its lack of emotional depth, and its lack +of intellectual subtlety." + +<1> Op. Cit., p. 6. + +It is just this contrast and parallelism of structure as +balance, proportion, symmetry, addressed to the mind, with +expression as emotional content, that a true view of the +aesthetic experience would lead us to challenge. If there +is one thing that our study of the general nature of aesthetic +experience has shown, it is that aesthetic emotion is unique-- +neither a perception nor an intellectual grasp of relations, +nor an emotion within the accepted rubric--joy, desire, +triumph, etc. Whether or not music is an exception to this +principle, remains to be seen; but the presumption is at +least in favor of a direct, immediate, unique emotion aroused +by the true beauty of music, whatever that may prove to be. + +With a great literature in the form of special studies, we +must yet, on the whole, admit that we possess no general +formula in the philosophy or psychology of music which covers +the whole ground. Schopenhauer has said that music is the +objectification of the will--not a copy or a picture of it, +but the will itself; a doctrine which however illuminating +when it is modified in various ways is obviously no explanation +of our experience. Hanslick has but shown what music is not; +Edmund Gurney's eloquent book, "The Power of Sound," is +completely agnostic in its conclusion that music is a unique, +indefinable, indescribable phenomenon, which possesses, indeed, +certain analogues with other physical and psychical facts, but +is coextensive with none. Spencer's theory of music as +glorified speech is not only in a yet unexplained conflict +with many facts, but has never been formulated so that it could +apply to concrete cases. The same is true of Wagner's "music +as the utterance of feeling." + +But there is a body of scientific facts respecting the elements +of music, in which we may well seek for clues. As facts alone +they are of no value. They must be explained as completely as +possible; and it is probable that if we are able to reach the +ultimate nature and origin of these elements of music they +will prove significant, and a way will be opened to a theory +of the whole musical experience. The need of such intensive +understanding must excuse the more or less technical discussions +in the following pages, without which no firm foundation for a +theory of music could be attained. + + +II + +The two great factors of music are rhythm and tone-sensation, +of which rhythm appears to be the more fundamental. + +Rhythm is defined in general as a repeating series of time +intervals. Events which occur in such a series are said to +have rhythm. In aesthetics, it is the periodic recurrence of +stress, emphasis, or accent in the movements of dancing, the +sounds of music, the language of poetry. Subjectively it is +the quality of stimulation due to a succession of impressions +(tactual and auditory are most favorable) which vary regularly +in objective intensity. We desire to understand the nature, +and the source of the pleasing quality, of this phenomenon. + +It is only by a complete psychological description, however, +even a physiological explanation, that we can hope to fathom +the tremendous significance of rhythm in music and poetry. +Those treatments which expose its development in the dance and +song really beg the question; they assume the very fact for +which we have to find the ground, namely, the natural impulse +to rhythm. Even those theories which explain it as a helpful +social phenomenon, as regulating work, etc., fail to account +for its peculiar psychological character--that compelling, +intimate force, the "Zwang" of which Nietszche speaks, which +we all feel, and which makes it helpful. This compelling +quality of rhythm would lead us to look behind the sociological +influences, for the explanation in some fundamental condition +of consciousness, some "demand" of the organism. For this +reason we must find superficial the views which connect rhythm +with the symmetry of the body as making rhythmical gesture +necessary; or more particularly with the conditions of work, +which, if it is skilled and well carried out, proceeds in +equal recurring periods, like the swinging of a hammer or an +axe. But it appears that primitive effort is not carried on +in this way, and proceeds, not from regularity to rhythm, but +rather, through, by means of rhythm, which is made a help, to +regularity. Again, it is said that work can be well carried +out by a large number of people, only in unison, only by +simultaneous action, and that rhythm is a condition of this. +The work in the cotton fields, the work of sailors, etc. +requires something to give notice of the moment for beginning +action. Rhythm would then have arisen as a social function. +Against this it may be said that signals of this kind might +assist common action without recurring at regular intervals, +while periodicity is the fundamental quality of rhythm. Thus +this theory would explain a natural tendency by its effect. + +Looking then, in accordance with the principle stated above, +for deeper conditions, we find rhythm explained in connection +with such rhythmical events as the heart beat and pulse, the +double rhythm of the breath; but these are, for the most part, +unfelt; and moreover, they would hardly explain the predominance +of rhythms quite other than the physiological ones. Another +theory, closely allied, connects rhythm with the conditions +of activity in general, but attaches itself rather to the +effect of rhythm than to its cause. Thus we are reminded of +the "heightened sense of expansion, or life, connected with +the augmentation of muscular movements induced by the more +extensive nervous discharges following rhythmic stimulation."<1> +But why should it be just rhythmic stimulation that produces +this effect? We are finally thrown back on physiology for the +answer that in rhythmical stimulation there are involved +recurrent activities of organs refreshed by immediately +preceding periods of repose. Here again, however, we must ask, +why on this hypothesis the periods themselves must be exactly +equal. For within the periods the greatest variety obtains. +One measure of a single note may be succeeded by another +containing eight; within the periods, that is, the minor +moments of activity and repose are quite unequal. + +<1> H.R. Marshall, _Pain, Pleasure, and Aesthetics._ + +Last of all, we must note the view of rhythm as a phenomenon +of expectation (Wundt). But while we can undoubtedly describe +rhythm in terms of expectation and its satisfaction, rhythm is +rhythm just through its difference from other kinds of expectation. + +All these explanations seem either merely to describe the facts +we seek to explain, or to fail to notice the peculiar intimate +nature of the rhythmical experience. But if it could be shown +not only that in all stimulation there must be involved an +alternation of activity and repose, but also that an equality +of such periods was highly favorable to the organism, we should +have the conditions for a physiological theory of rhythm. Now +the important psychological facts of so-called subjective +rhythmizing seem to supply just this need. + +It has been shown<1> that we can neither receive objectively +equal sense-stimuli, nor produce regular movements, without +injecting into these a rhythmical element. A series of objectively +equal sound-stimuli--the ticking of a clock, for instance--is +heard in groups, within each of which one element is of greater +intensity. A series of movements are never objectively equal, +but grouped in the same way. Now this subjective rhythm, sensory +and motor, is explained as follows from the general physiological +basis of attention. + +<1> T.L. Bolton, _Amer. Jour. Of Psychol._, vol. vi. The classical +historical study of theories of rhythm remains that of Meumann, +_Phil. Studien_, vol. x. + +Attention itself is ultimately a motor phenomenon. Thus: the +sensory aspect of attention is vividness, and vividness is +explained physiologically as a brain-state of readiness for motor +discharge;<1> in the case of a visual stimulus, for instance, a +state of readiness to carry out movements of adjustment to the +object; in short, the motor path is open. Now attention, or +vividness, is found to fluctuate periodically, so that in a +series of objectively equal stimuli, certain ones, regularly +recurring, would be more vividly sensed. This is exemplified +in the well-known facts of the fluctuation of the threshold of +sensation, of the so-called retinal rivalry, and of the subjective +rhythmizing of auditory stimuli, already mentioned. There is a +natural rhythm of vividness. Here, therefore, in the very +conditions of consciousness itself, we have the conditions of +rhythm too. The case of subjective motor rhythm would be still +clearer, since vividness is only the psychical side of readiness +for motor discharge; in other words, increased readiness for +motor discharge occurs periodically, giving motor rhythm. + +<1> Munsterberg, _Grundzuge d. Psychologie_, 1902,. P. 525. + +It has been said<1> that this periodicity of the brain-wave +cannot furnish the necessary condition for rhythm, inasmuch as +it is itself a constant, and could at most be applied to a series +which was adapted to its own time. But this objection does not +fit the facts. The "brain-wave," or "vividness," or attention +period, is not a constant, but attaches itself to the contents +of consciousness. In other words, it does not function without +material. It is itself conditioned by its occasion. In the +case of a regularly repeated stimulus, it is simply adjusted +to what is there, and out of the series chooses, as it were, +one at regular periods.<2> + +<1> J.B. Miner, "Motor, Visual, and Applied Rhythms," _Psychol. +Rev., Mon. Suppl._, No. 21. +<2> Facts, too technical for reproduction here, quoted by R.H. +Stetson (_Harvard Psychol. Studies_, vol. i, 1902) from Cleghorn's +and Hofbauer's experiments seem to be in harmony with this view. + +Closely connected with these facts, perhaps only a somewhat +different aspect of them, is the phenomenon of motor mechanization. +Any movement repeated tends to become a circular reaction, as it +is called; that is, the end of one repetition serves as a cue +for the beginning of the next. Now, in regularly recurring +stimuli, giving rise, as will be later shown, to motor reactions, +which are differentiated through the natural periodicity of the +attention (physiologically the tendency to motor discharge), we +have the best condition for this mechanization. In other words, +a rhythmical grouping once set up naturally tends to persist. +The organism prepares itself for shocks at definite times, and +shocks coming at those times are pleasant because they fulfill +a need. Moreover, every further stimulus reinforces the original +activity; so that rhythmical grouping tends not only to persist, +but to grow more distinct,--as, indeed, all the facts of +introspection show. + +All this, however, is true of the repetition of objectively +equal stimuli. It shows how an impulse to rhythm would arise +and persist subjectively, but does not of itself explain the +pleasure in the experience of objective rhythm. It may be said +in general, however, that changes which would occur naturally +in an objectively undifferentiated content give direct pleasure +when they are artificially introduced,--when, that is, the +natural disposition is satisfied. This we have seen to be true +in the of color contrast; and it is perhaps even more valid in +the realm of motor activity. Whatever in sense stimulation +gives the condition for, helps, furthers, enhances the natural +function, is felt both as pleasing and as furthering the particular +activity in question. Now, the objective stress in rhythm is but +emphasis on a stress that would be in any case to some degree +subjectively supplied. Rhythm in music, abstracting from all +other pleasure-giving factors, is then pleasurable because it +is in every sense a favorable stimulation. + +In accordance with the principle that complete explanation of +psychical facts is possible only through the physiological +substrate, we have so far kept rather to that field in dealing +with the foundations of our pleasure in rhythm. But further +description of the rhythmical experience is most natural in +psychological terms. There seems, indeed, on principle no +ground for the current antithesis, so much emphasized of late, +of "psychical" and "motor" theories of rhythm. Attention and +expectation are not "psychical" as opposed to "motor." Granting, +as no doubt most psychologists would grant, that attention is +the psychical analogue of the physiological tendency to motor +discharge, then a motor automatism of which one is fully +conscious could be described as expectation and its satisfaction. +Indeed, the impossibility of a sharp distinction between ideas +of movement and movement sensations confirms this view. When +expectation has reference to an experience with a movement +element in it, the expectation itself contains movement +sensations of the kind in question.<1> To say, then, that +rhythm is expectation based on the natural functioning of the +attention period, is simply to clothe our physiological +explanation in terms of psychological description. The usual +motor theory is merely one which neglects the primary disposition +to rhythm through attention variations, in favor of the +sensations of muscular tension (kinaesthetic sensations) which +arise IN rhythm, but do not cause it. To say that the impression +of rhythm arises only in kinaesthetic sensations begs the +question in the way previously noted. Undoubtedly, the period +once established, the rhythmic group is held together, felt as +a unit, by means of the coordinated movement sensations; but +the main problem, the possibility of this first establishment, +is not solved by such a motor theory. In other words, the +attention theory is the real motor theory. + +<1> C.M. Hitchcock, "The Psychol. Of Expectation," _Psychol. +Rev., Mon. Suppl._, No. 20. + +Expectation is the "set" of the attention. Automatism is the +set of the motor centres. Now as attention is parallel to the +condition of the motor centres, we are able to equate expectation +and automatic movement. Rhythm is literally embodied expectation, +fulfilled. It is therefore easily to be understood that whatever +other emotions connect themselves with satisfied expectation are +at their ideal poignance in the case of rhythm. + +It is from this point of view that we must understand the +helpfulness of rhythm in work. That all definite stimulus, and +especially sound stimulus, rhythmical or not, sets up a diffusive +wave of energy, increasing blood circulation, dynamogenic +phenomena, etc., is another matter, which has later to be +discussed. But the essential is that this additional stimulus +is rhythmical, and therefore a reinforcement of the nervous +activity, and therefore a lightening and favorable condition of +work itself. So it is, too, that we can understand the tremendous +influence of rhythm just among primitive peoples, and those of a +low degree of culture. Work is hard for savages, not because +bodily effort is hard, but because the necessary concentration +of attention is for them almost impossible; and the more, that +in work they are unskilled, and without good tools, so that +generally every movement has to be especially attended to. Now +rhythm in work is especially directed to lighten that effort which +they feel as hardest; it rests, renews, and frees the attention. +Rhythm is helpful not primarily because it enables many to work +together by making effort simultaneous, but rhythm rests and +encourages the individual, and working together is most naturally +carried out in rhythm. + +To this explanation all the other facts of life-enhancement, etc., +can be attached. Rhythm is undoubtedly favorable stimulation. +Can it be brought under the full aesthetic formula of favorable +stimulation with repose? A rhythm once established has both +retrospective and prospective reference. It looks before and +after, it binds together the first and the last moments of +activity, and can therefore truly be said to return upon itself, +so as to give a sense of equilibrium and repose. + +But when we turn from the fundamental facts of simple rhythm +to the phenomena of art we find straightway many other problems. +It is safe to say that no single phrase of music or line of +poetry is without variation; more, that a rhythm without variation +would be highly disagreeable. How must we understand these +facts? It is impossible within the natural limitations of this +chapter to do more than glance at a few of them. + +First of all, then, the most striking thing about the rhythmical +experience is that the period, or group, is felt as a unit. +"Of the number and relation of individual beats constituting a +rhythmical sequence there is no awareness whatever on the part +of the aesthetic subject....Even the quality of the organic +units may lapse from distinct consciousness, and only a feeling +of the form of the whole sequence remains."<1> Yet the slightest +deviation from its form is remarked. Secondly, every variation +creates not only a change in its own unit, but a wave of +disturbance all along the line. Also, every variation from +the type indicates a point of accentual stress; the syncopated +measure, for instance, is always strongly accented. All these +facts would seem to be connected with the view of the importance +of movement sensations in building up the group feeling. The +end of each rhythm period gives the cue for the beginning of +the next, and the muscle tensions are coordinated within each +group; so that each group is really continuous, and would +naturally be "felt" as one,--but being automatic, would not be +perceived in its separate elements. On the other hand, it is +just automatic reaction, a deviation from which is felt most +strongly. The syncopated measure has to maintain itself +against pressure, as it were, and thus by making its presence +in consciousness felt more strongly, it emphasizes the +fundamental rhythm form. + +<1> R. MacDougall, "The Structure of Simple Rhythm Forms," +_Harv. Psychol. Studies_, vol. i, p. 332. + +This is well shown in the following passage from a technical +treatise on expression in the playing of music. "The efforts +which feeling makes to hold to...the shape of the first rhythm, +the force which it is necessary to use to make it lose its +desires and its habits, and to impose others on it, are +naturally expressed by an agitation, that is, by a crescendo +or greater intensity of sound, by an acceleration in movement."<1> +If a purely technical expression may be pardoned here, it could +be said that the motor image,<2> that is, the coordinated +muscular tensions which make the group feeling of the fundamental +rhythm, is always latent, and becomes conscious whenever anything +conflicts with it. Thus it is that we can understand the +tremendous rhythmical consciousness in that music which seems +most to contradict the fundamental rhythm, as in negro melodies, +and rag-time generally; and in general, the livening effect of +variation. The motor tension, the "set" becomes felt the +moment there is objective interference--just as we feel the +rhythm of our going downstairs only when we fail to get the +sensation we expect. + +<1> M. Lussy, _Traite de l'Expression Musicale_, Paris, 1874, p. 7. +<2> _Gestaltsqualitat_, literally form-quality. + +This principle of the motor image is of tremendous significance, +as we shall see, for the whole theory of music. Let it be +sufficient to note here that expression, in the form of +Gestaltsqualitat, or motor image, is, as a principle, sufficient +for the explanation of the most important factors in the experience +of rhythm. + + +III + +But we have dwelt too long on the general characteristics. +Although our examples have been drawn mostly from the field of +music, the preceding principles apply to all kinds of rhythm, +tactual and visual as well as auditory. It is time to show why +the rhythm out of all comparison the strongest, most compelling, +most full of emotional quality, is the rhythm of music. + +It has long been known that there is especially close connection +between sounds and motor innervations. All sorts of sensorial +stimuli produce reflex contractions, but the auditory, apparently, +to a much higher degree. Animals are excited to all sorts of +outbreaks by noise; children are less alarmed by visual than by +auditory impressions. The fact that we dance to sound rather +than to the waving of a baton, or rhythmical flashes of light +for instance--the fact that this second proposition is felt at +once to be absurd, shows how intimately the two are bound +together. The irresistible effects of dance, martial music, +etc., are trite commonplaces; and I shall therefore not heap +up instances which can be supplied by every reader from his +own experience. Now all this is not hard to understand, +biologically. The eye mediated the information of what was +far enough away to be fled from, or prepared for; the ear what +was likely to be nearer, unseen, and so more ominous. As more +ominous, it would have to be responded to in action more +quickly. So that if any sense was to be in especially close +connection with the motor centres, it would naturally be +hearing. + +The development of the auditory functions points to the same +close connection of sound and movement. Sounds affect us as +tone, and as impulse. The primitive sensation was one of +impulse alone, mediated by the "shake-organs." These shake- +organs at first only gave information about the attitude and +movements of the body, and were connected with motor centres +so as to be able to reestablish equilibrium by means of +reflexes. The original "shake-organ" developed into the +organs of hearing and of equilibrium (that is, the cochlea +and the semicircular canals respectively), but these were +still side by side in the inner ear, and the close connection +with the motor centres was not lost. Anatomically, the +auditory nerve not only goes to those parts of the brain +whence the motor innervation emanates, and to the reflex +centres in the cerebellum, but passes close by the vagus or +pneumogastric nerve, which rules the heart and the vasomotor +functions. We have then multiplied reasons for the singular +effect of sound on motor reactions, and on the other organic +functions which have so much to do with feeling and emotion. + +Every sound-stimulus is then much more than sound-sensation. +It causes reflex contractions in the whole muscular system; +it sets up some sort of cardiac and vascular excitation. +This reaction is in general in the direction of increased +amplitude of respiration, but diminution of the pulse, +depending on a peripheral vaso-constriction. Moreover, this +vasomotor reaction is given in a melody or piece of music, +not by its continuity, but for every one of the variations +of rhythm, key, or intensity,--which is of interest in the +light of what has been said of the latent motor image. The +obstacle in syncopated rhythm is physiologically translated +as vaso-constriction. In general, music induces cardiac +acceleration. + +All this is of value in showing how completely the attention- +motor theory of rhythm applies to the rhythm of sounds. Since +sound is much more than sound, but sound-sensation, movement, +and visceral change together, we can see that the rhythmical +experience of music is, even more literally and completely +than at first appeared, an EMBODIED expectation. No sensorial +rhythm could be so completely induced in the psychological +organism as the sound-rhythm. In listening to music, we see +how it is that we ourselves, body and soul, seem to be IN the +rhythm. We make it, and we wait to make it. The satisfaction +of our expectation is like the satisfaction of a bodily desire +or need; no, not like it, it IS that. The conditions and +causes of rhythm and our pleasure in it are more deeply seated +than language, custom, even instinct; they are in the most +fundamental functions of life. This element of music, at least, +seems not to have arisen as a "natural language." + + +IV + +The facts of the relations of tones, the elements, that is, +of melody and harmony, are as follows. We cannot avoid the +observation that certain tones "go together," as the phrase +is, while others do not. This peculiar impression of belonging +together is known as consonance, or harmony. The intervals of +the octave, the fifth, the third, for instance, that is, C-C', +C-G, C-E, in the diatonic scale, are harmonious; while the +interval of the second, C-D, is said to be dissonant. +Consonance, however, is not identical with pleasingness, for +different combinations are sometimes pleasing, sometimes +displeasing. In the history of music we know that the octave +was to the Greeks the most pleasing combination, to medieval +musicians the fifth, while to us, the third, which was once +a forbidden chord, is perhaps most delightful. Yet we should +never doubt that the octave is the most consonant, the fifth +and the third the lesser consonant of combinations. We see, +thus, that consonance, whatever its nature, is independent +of history; and we must seek for its explanation in the nature +of the auditory process. + +Various theories have been proposed. That of Helmholtz has +held the field so long that, although weighty objections have +been raised to it, it must still be treated with respect. In +introducing it a short review of the familiar facts of the +physics and physiology of hearing may not be out of place. + +The vibration rates per second of the vibrating bodies, strings, +steel rods, etc., which produce those musical tones which are +consonant, are in definite and small mathematical ratios to +each other. Thus the rates of C-C' are as 1:2; of C-G, C-E, +as 2:3, 4:5. In general, the simpler the fraction, the +greater the consonance. + +But no sonorous body vibrates in one single rate; a taut +string vibrates as a whole, which gives its fundamental tone, +but also in halves, in fourths, etc., each giving out a +weaker partial tone, in harmony with the fundamental. And +according to the different ways in which a sonorous body +divides, that is, according to the different combination of +partial tones peculiar to it, is its especial quality of tone, +or timbre. The whole complex of fundamental and partial tones +is what we popularly speak of as a tone,--more technically a +clang. These physical agitations or vibrations are transmitted +to the air. Omitting the account of the anatomical path by +which they reach the inner ear, we find them at last setting +up vibrations in a many-fibred membrane, the basilar membrane, +which is in direct connection with the ends of the auditory +nerve. It is supposed that to every possible rate of +vibration, that is, every possible tone, or partial tone, there +corresponds a fibre of the basilar membrane fitted by its +length to vibrate synchronously with the original wave-elements. +The complex wave is thus analyzed into its constituents. Now +when two tones, which we will for clearness suppose to be +simple, unaccompanied by partial tones, sounding together, +have vibration rates in simple ratios to each other, the air- +waves set in motion do not interfere with each other, but +combine into a complex but homogeneous wave. If they have +to each other a complicated ratio, such as 500:504, the air- +waves will not only not coalesce, but four times in the second +the through of one wave will meet the crest of the other, thus +making the algebraic sum zero, and producing the sensation of +a momentary stoppage of the sound. When these stoppages, or +beats, as they are called, are too numerous to be heard +separately, as in the interval, say, 500:547, the effect is +of a disagreeable roughness of tone, and this we call discord. +In other words, any tones which do not produce beats are +harmonious, or harmony is the absence of discord. In the +words of Helmholtz,<1> consonance is a continuous, dissonance +an intermittent, tone-sensation. + +<1> _Lehre v.d. Tonempfindungen_, p. 370, in 4th edition. + +Aside from the fact that consonance, as a psychological fact, +seems positive, while this determination is negative, two very +important facts can be set up in opposition. As a result of +experimental investigation, we know that the impression of +consonance can accompany the intermittent or rough sound- +sensations we know as beating tones; and, conversely, tones +can be dissonant when the possibility of beats is removed. +Briefly, it is possible to make beats without dissonance, +and dissonance without beats. + +The other explanation makes consonance due to the identity +of partial tones. When two tones have one or more partial +tones in common they are said to be related; the amount +of identity gives the degree of relationship. Physiologically, +one or more basilar membrane fibres are excited by both, and +this fact gives the positive feeling of relationship or +consonance. Of course the obvious objection to this view +is that the two tones should be felt as differently consonant +when struck on instruments which give different partial tones, +such as organ and piano, while in fact they are not so felt. + +But it is not after all essential to the aesthetics of music +that the physiological basis of harmony should be fully +understood. The point is that certain tones do indeed seem to +be "preordained to congruity," preordained either in their +physical constitution or their physiological relations, and not +to have achieved congruity by use or custom. Consonance is an +immediate and fundamental impression,--psychologically an +ultimate fact. That it is ultimate is emphasized by Stumpf<1> +in his theory of Fusion. Consonance is fusion, that is, unitary +impression. Fusion is not identical with inability to distinguish +two tones from each other in a chord, although this may be used +as a measure of fusion. Consonance is the feeling of unity, and +fusion is the mutual relation of tones which gives that feeling. + +<1> _Beitrage zur Akustik u. Musikwissenschaft_, Heft I, +Konsonanz u. Dissonanz, 1898. + +The striking fact of modern music is the principle of tonality. +Tonality is said to be present in a piece of music when every +element in it is referred to, gets its significance from its +relation to, a fundamental tone, the tonic. The tonic is the +beginning and lowest note in the scale in question, and all +notes and chords are understood according to their place in +that scale. But the conception of the scale of course does not +cover the ground, it merely furnishes the point of departure,-- +the essential is in the reference of every element to the +fundamental tone. The tonic is the centre of gravity of a +melody. + +The feeling of tonality grew up as follows. Every one was +referred to a fundamental, whether or not it made with it an +harmonious interval. The fundamental was imaged TOGETHER WITH +every other note, and when a group of such references often +appeared together, the feelings bound up with the single +reference (interval-feelings) fused into a single feeling,-- +the tonality-feeling. When this point is once reached, it is +clear that every tone is heard not as itself alone, but in its +relations; it is not that we judge of tonality, it is a direct +impression, based on a psychological principle that we have +already touched on in the theory of rhythm. The tonality- +feeling is a feeling of form, or motor image, just as the +shape of objects is a motor image. We do not now need to go +through all possible experiences in relation to these objects, +we POSSESS their form in a system of motor images, which are +themselves only motor cues for coordinated movements. So +every tone is felt as something at a certain distance from, +with a certain relation to, another tone which is dimly +imagined. In following a melody, the notes are able to belong +together for us by virtue of the background of the tone to +which they are related, and in terms of which they are heard. +The tonality is indeed literally a "funded content,"--that is, +a funded capital of relation. + +These are the general facts of tonality. But what is its +meaning for the nature of music? Why should all notes be +referred to one? Is this, too, an ultimate psychological fact? +In answer there may be pointed out the original basic quality +of certain tones, and the desire we have to return to them. +Of two successive tones, it is always the one which is, in the +ratio of their vibration rates, a power of two, with which we +wish to end.<1> When neither of two successive tones contains +a power of two, we have no preference as to the ending. Thus +denoting any tone by 1, it is always to 1 or 2, or 2n that we +wish to return, from any other possible tone; while 3 and 5, 5 +and 7, leave us indifferent as to their succession. In general, +when two tones are related, as 2n:3, 5, 7, 9, 15--in which 2n +denotes every power of two, including 2o=1, with the progression +from the first to the second, there is bound up a tendency to +return to the first. Thus the fundamental fact of melodic +sequence may be said to be the primacy of 2 in vibration rates. +But 2n, in a scale containing 3, 5, etc., is always what we +know as the tonic. The tonic, then, gives a sense of +equilibrium, of rest, of finality, while to end on another tone +gives a feeling of restlessness or striving. + +Now tone-relationship alone, it is clear, would not of itself +involve this immediate impulse to end a sequence of notes on +one rather than on another. Nor is tonality, in the all- +pervasive sense in which we understand it, a characteristic of +ancient, or of mediaeval music, while the tendency to end on a +certain tone, which we should to-day call the tonic, was always +felt. Thus, since complete tonality was developed late in the +history of music, while the closing on the tonic was certainly +prior to it, the finality of the tonic would seem to be the +primary fact, out of which the other has been developed. + +We speak to-day, for instance, of dissonant chords, which call +for a resolution--and are inclined to interpret them as +dissonant just because they do so call. But the desire for +resolution is historically much later than the distinction +between consonance and dissonance.... "What we call resolution +is not change from dissonant to consonant IN GENERAL, but the +transition of definite tones of a dissonant interval into +DEFINITE TONES of a consonant."<1> The dissonance comes from +the device of getting variety, in polyphonic music, by letting +some parts lag behind, and the discords which arose while they +were catching up were resolved in the final coming together; +but the STEPS were all PREDETERMINED.<2> Resolution was +inevitably implied by the very principle on which the device +is founded. That is, the understanding of a chord as something +TO BE RESOLVED, is indeed part of the feeling of tonality; but +the ending on the tonic was that out of which this resolution- +feeling grew. + +<1> Stumpf, op. Cit., p. 33. +<2> Grove, _Dict. Of Music and Musicians_. Art. "Resolution." + +Must we, then, say that the finality of the tonic is a unique, inexplicable phenomenon? giving up the nature of melody as a +problem if not insoluble, at least unsolved? + +The feeling of finality in the return to 2n is explained by +Lipps and his followers, from the fact that the two-division +is most natural, and so tones of 2n vibrations would have the +character of rest and equilibrium. This explanation might hold +if we were ever conscious of the two-division as such, in tones +--which we are not; so that it would seem to depend on the +restful character of a perception which by hypothesis is never +present to the mind at all. + +The experience is, on the contrary, immediate,--an impression, +not a perception; and this immediacy points to the one ultimate +fact in musical feeling we have so far discovered. The whole +development of the scale, and the complex feeling of tonality, +is an expression of the desire for consonance. Every change +and correction in the scale has gone to make every note more +consonant with its neighbors. And naturally the tonic is the +tone with which all other tones have the most unity. Now this +"return" phenomenon is a simpler case of the desire for the +feeling of unity. The tonic is the epitome of all the most +perfect feelings of consonance or unity which are possible in +any particular sequence of tones, and is therefore the goal +or resting-place after an excursion. The undoubted feeling +of equilibrium or repose which we have in ending on the tonic +is thus explained. Not that consonance itself, the feeling of +unity, is explained. But at any rate consonance is the root +of the "return," and of its development into complete tonality. + +The history of music is then the explicit development of +acoustic laws implicit in every stage of musical feeling. That +feeling covers an ever wider field. When Mr. Hadow says that +the terms concord and discord are wholly relative to the ear +of the listener,<1> and that the distinction between them is +not to be explained on any mathematical basis, or by any a +priori law of acoustics,--that it is not because a minor +second is ugly that we dislike it, for it will be a concord +some day,--he is only partly right. The minor second may be +a "concord," that is, we may like it, some day; but that will +be because w have extended our feeling of tonality to include +the minor second. When that day comes the minor second will +be so closely linked with other fully consonant combinations +that we shall hear it in terms of them, just as to-day we +hear the chord of the dominant seventh in terms of its +resolution. But the basis will not be convention or custom, +except in so far as custom is the unfolding of natural law. +The course of music, like that of every other art, is away +from arbitrary--though simple--convention, to a complexity +which satisfies the natural demands of the organism. The +"natural persuasion" of the ear is omnipotent. + +<1> W.H. Hadow, _Studies in Modern Music_, 1893. + + +V + +It has been said that the feeling of tonality is a motor image +or "form-quality" and that the image of the tonic persists +throughout every sequence of tones in a melody. Now these are +not only felt as having a certain relation to the tonic; that +relation is an active one. It was said that we had a positive +desire to end on a certain tone, and that a tendency to pass +to that tone was bound up with the hearing of another tone. +The degree of this tendency is determined by their relation. +The key, the tonality, is determined by the consensus of +intervals which have been felt as more or less consonant. +Then steps in this scale which come near to the great salient +points--that is, the points of greatest consonance, which is +unity, which is rest--are felt as suggesting them. This is +the reason why a semitone progression is felt as so compelling. +In taking the scale upward, C to C', that element in the tone- +Space already clearly foreshadowed by the previous tones is C'; +B is so near that it is almost C'--it seems to cry aloud to be +completed by C'. Then the tendency to move from B to C' is +especially strong. In the same way a chromatic note suggests +most strongly the salient point in the scheme to which it is +nearest--and "tends" to it as to a point of comparative rest. +The difference between the major and minor scales may be found +in the lesser definiteness<1> with which the tendency to +progression, in the latter, is felt--"a condition of hovering, +a kind of ambiguity, of doubt, to which side the movement +shall proceed." We may then understand a melody as ever tending +with various degrees of urgency, of strain, to its centre of +gravity, the tonic. + +<1> F. Weinmann, _Zeitschr. f. Psychol._, Bd. 35, p. 360. + +It is from this point of view that we can see the cogency of +Gurney's remark, that when music seems to be yearning for +unutterable things, it is really yearning only for the next +note. "In this step from the state of rest into movement and +return, the coming again to rest; on what circuitous ways, +with what reluctances and hesitations; whether quick and +decisively or gradually and unnoticed--therein consists the +nature of melody."<1> + +<1> Weinmann, op. cit. + +Or in Gurney's more eloquent description, "The melody may begin +by pressing its way through a sweetly yielding resistance to a +gradually foreseen climax; whence again fresh expectation is +bred, perhaps for another excursion, as it were, round the same +centre but with a bolder and freer sweep,...to a point where +again the motive is suspended on another temporary goal; till +after a certain number of such involutions and evolutions, and +of delicately poised leanings and reluctances and yieldings, +the forces so accurately measured just suffice to bring it home, +and the sense of potential and coming integration which has +underlain all our provisional adjustments of expectation is +triumphantly justified."<1> + +<1> Op. cit., p. 165. + +This should not be taken as a more or less poetical account +under the metaphor of motion. These "leanings" are literal +in the sense that one note does imply another as its natural +complement and satisfaction and we seek to reach or make it. +The striving is an intrinsic element, not a by-product for our +understanding. + +There is another point to note. The "sense of potential and +coming integration" is a strong factor of melody. If it cannot +be said that the first note implies the last, it is at least +true that from point to point the next step is dimly foreseen, +and this effect is cumulative. If melody is an ever-hindered +striving for the goal, at least the hindrances themselves are +stations on the way, each one as overcome adding to the final +momentum with which the goal is reached. It is like an +accumulation of evidence, a constellation of associations. AB +foretells C; but ABCDEF rushes yet more strongly upon G. So +it is that the irresistibleness, the "unalterable rightness" +of a piece of music increases from beginning to end. + +The significance of this essential internal necessity of +progression cannot be overestimated. The unalterable rightness +of music is founded on natural acoustic laws, and this +"rightness" is fundamental. A melody is not right because it +is beautiful, it is beautiful because it is right. The natural +tendencies point out different paths to the goal; and thus +different ways of being beautiful; but the nature of the +relation between point and point, the nature of the progression, +that is, the nature of melody, is the same. + +Up to this point we have consistently abstracted from the +element of rhythm in melody. Strictly speaking, however, it +is impossible to do so. The individuality of a melody is +absolutely dependent on its rhythm, that is, on the relative +time-value of its tones. Gurney has devoted some amusing pages +to showing the trivial, dragging, lustreless tunes that result +from ever so slight a change in the rhythm of noble themes, or +even in the distribution of rhythmical elements within the bar. +The reason for this is evident. The nature of melody in the +sense of sequence consists in the varied answers to the demands +of the ear as felt at each successive point. Now it is clear +that such "answer" can be emphasized, given indifferently, held +in suspense, in short, subjected to all kinds of variation as +well by the rhythmical form into which it is cast, as by the +different choice of possibilities for the tone itself. The +rhythm helps out the melody not only by adding to it an +independently pleasing element, but, and this is indeed the +essential, by reinforcing the intrinsic relations of the notes +themselves. Thus it is in the highest degree true that in +melody and rhythm we do not have content and form, but that, +strictly speaking, the melody is tone-sequence in rhythm. + +The intimate bondage of tone-sequence and rhythm is grounded +in the identity of their inner nature; both are varieties of +the objective conditions of embodied expectation. It is not +of the essence of music to satisfy explicit and conscious +expectation--to satisfy the understanding. It meets on the +contrary a subconscious, automatic need which becomes conscious +only in the moment of its contenting. Every moment of progress +in a beautiful melody is hailed like an instinctive action +performed for the first time. Rhythm is the ideal satisfaction +of attention in general with all its bodily concomitants and +expressions. Tone-sequence is the satisfaction of attention +directed to auditory demands. But the form-quality of rhythm, +the form-quality of tonality, is an all but subconscious +possession. Together, reinforcing each other in melody, they +furnish the ideal arrangement of the most poignant of sense- +stimulations. + + +VI + +It is strange that those who would accept the general facts of +musical logic as outlined above do not perceive that they have +thereby cut away the ground from under the feet of the "natural +language" argument. If the principle of choice in the progress +of a melody is tone-relationship, the principle of choice cannot +also be the cadences of the speaking voice. That musical +intervals often RECALL the speaking voice is another matter, as +we have said, and to this it may be added that they much more +often do not. The question here is only of the primacy of the +principle. Thus it would seem that the facts of musical structure +constitute in themselves a refutation of the view we have disputed. +To say that music arose in "heightened speech" is irrelevant; for +the occasion of an aesthetic phenomenon is never its cause. It +might as well be said that music arose in economic conditions,-- +as indeed Grosse, in his "Anfange der Kunst," conclusively shows, +without attempting to make this social occasion intrude into the +nature of the phenomenon. Primitive decorative art arose in the +imitation of the totemic or clan symbols, mostly animal forms; +but we have seen that the aesthetic quality of the decoration is +due to the demands of the eye, and appears fully only in the +comparative degradation of the representative form. In exactly +the same way might we consider the "degradation" of speech +cadences into real music,--supposing this were really the origin +of music. As a matter of fact, however, the best authorities +seem to be agreed that the primitive "dance-song" was rather a +monotonous, meaningless chant, and that the original pitch- +elements were mechanically supplied by the first musical +instruments; these being at first merely for noise, and becoming +truly vibrating, sonorous bodies because they were more easily +struck if they were hard or taut. The musical tones which these +hard vibrating bodies gave out were the first determinations of +pitch, and of the elements of the scale, which correspond to the +natural partial vibrations of such bodies. "The human voice," +Wallaschek<1> tells us, "equally admits of any pentatonic or +heptatonic intervals, and very likely we should never have got +regular scales if we had depended upon the ear and voice only. +The first unique cause to settle the type of a regular scale is +the instrument." To this material we have to apply only that +"natural persuasion of the ear" which we have already explained, +to account for the full development of music. + +<1> _Primitive Music_, 1893, p. 156. + +The beauty of music, in so far as beauty is identical with +pleasantness, consists in its satisfaction of the demands of +the ear, and of the whole psychophysical organism as connected +with the ear. It is now time to return to a thread dropped at +the beginning. It was said that a common way of settling the +musical experience was to make musical beauty the object of +perception, and musical expression the object, or source, of +emotion. This view seems to attach itself to all shades of +theory. Hanslick always contrasts intellectual activity as +attaching to the form, and emotion as attaching to the sensuous +material (that is, the physical effects of motion, loud or +soft sound, tempo, etc.). He speaks of the aesthetic criterion +of INTELLIGENT gratification. "The truly musical listener" has +"his attention absorbed by the particular form and character of +the composition," "the unique position which the INTELLECTUAL +ELEMENT in music occupies in relation to FORMS and SUBSTANCE +(subject)." M. Dauriac in the same way separates the emotion +of music<1> as a product of nervous excitations, from the +appreciation of it as beautiful. "It is probably that the +pleasure caused by rhythm and color prevails with a pretty +large number, with the greatest number, over the pleasure in +the musical form, pleasure too exclusively PSYCHOLOGICAL for +one to be content with it alone....The musical sense implies +the intelligence....The theory...applies to a great number of +sonorous sensations, and not at all to any musical perceptions." +Mr. W.H. Hadow<2> tells us that it is the duty of the musician +not to flatter the sense with an empty compliment of sound, +but to reach through sensation to the mental faculties within. +And again we read "the art of the composer is in a sense the +discovery and exposition of the INTELLIGIBLE relations in the +multifarious material at his command."<3> + +<1> "Le Plaisir et l'Emotion Musicale," _Rev. Philos._, Tome +42, No. 7. +<2> Op. cit., p. 47. +<3> Grove's _Dict._ Art. "Relationship." + +Now it is not hard to see how this antithesis has come about. +But that the work of a master is always capable of logical +analysis does not prove that our apprehension of it is a +logical act. And the preceding discussion has wholly failed +to make its point, if it is not now clear that the musical +experience is an impression and not a judgment; that the feeling +of tonality is not a judgment of tonality, and that though the +aesthetic enjoyment of music extends only to those limits within +which the feeling of tonality is active, that feeling is more +likely than not to be quite unintelligible to the listener. +Indeed, if it were not so, we should have to restrict, by +hypothesis, the enjoyment of music to those able to give a +technical report of what they hear,--which is notoriously at +odds with the facts. That psychologist is quite right who +holds<1> that psychology, in laying down a principle explaining +the actual effect of a musical piece, is not justified in +confining itself to skilled musicians and taking no notice of +more than nine tenths of those who listen to the piece. But on +the understanding that the tonality-feeling acts subconsciously, +that our satisfaction with the progression of notes is unexplained +by the laws of acoustics and association, we are enabled to bring +within the circle of those who have the musical experience even +those nine tenths whose intellects are not actively participant. + +<1> Lazarus, _Das Leben der Seele_, ii, p. 323. + +The fact is that musical form, in the sense of structure, balance, +symmetry, and proportion in the arrangement of phrases, and in +the contrasting of harmonies and keys, is different from the +musical form which is felt intimately, intrinsically, as the +desired, the demanded progress from one note to another. Structure +is indeed perceived, understood, enjoyed as an orderly unified +arrangement. Form is felt as an immediate joy. Structure it is +which many critics have in mind when they speak of form, and it +is the confusion between the two which makes such an antithesis +of musical beauty and sensuous material possible. The real +musical beauty, it is clear, is in the melodic idea; in the +sequence of tones which are indissolubly one, which are felt +together, one of which cannot exist without the other. Musical +beauty is in the intrinsic musical form. And yet here, too, we +must admit, that, in the last analysis, structure and form need +not be different. The perfect structure will be such a unity +that it, too, will be FELT as one--not only "the orderly +distribution of harmonies and keys in such a manner that the +mind can realize the concatenation as a complete and distinct +work of art." The ideal musical consciousness would have an +ideally great range; it would not only realize the concatenation, +but it would take it in as one takes in a single phrase, a simple +tune, retaining it from first not to last. The ordinary musical +consciousness has merely a much shorter breath. It can "feel" +an air, a movement; it cannot "feel" a symphony, it can only +perceive the relation of keys and harmonies therein. With +repeated hearing, study, experience, this span of beauty may be +indefinitely extended--in the individual, as in the race. But +no one will deny that the direct experience of beauty, the +single aesthetic thrill, is measured exactly by the length of +this span. It is only genius--hearer or composer--who can +operate "a longue haleine." + +So it is that we must understand the development in musical +form from the cut and dried sonata form to the wayward yet +infinitely greater beauty of Beethoven; and thence to the +"free forms" of modern music. "Infinite melody" is a +contradiction in terms, because when the first term cannot +be present in consciousness with the last there is nothing to +control and direct the progression; and our musical memory is +limited. Yet we can conceive, theoretically, the possibility +of an indefinite widening of the memory. + +It was on some such grounds as these that Poe laid down his +famous "Poetic Principle,"--that a long poem does not exist; +that "a long poem" is simply a flat contradiction in terms. +He says, indeed, that because "elevating excitement," the end +of a poem, is "through a psychical necessity" transient, +therefore no poem should be longer than the natural term of +such excitement. It is clearly possible to substitute for +"elevating excitement," immediate musical feeling of the +individual. What is the meaning of "feeling," "impression," +here? It is the power of entering into a Gestaltsqualitat-- +a motor group, a scheme in which every element is the +mechanical cue to the following. Beauty ceases for the hearer +where this carrying power, the "funded capital" of tone- +linkings ceases. In just the same way, if rhythm were a +perception rather than an impression, we ought to be able to +apprehend a rhythm of which the unit periods were hours. Yet +we may so bridge over the moments of beauty in experience that +we are enabled, without stretching to a breaking-point, to +speak of a symphony or an opera as a single beautiful work of +art. + + +VII + +But what of the difficulties which such a theory must meet? +The most obvious one is the short life of musical works. If +musical beauty is founded in natural laws, why does music so +quickly grow old? The answer is that music is a phenomenon +of expectation as founded on these natural laws. It is the +tendency of one note to progress to another which is the basis +of the vividness of our experience. We expect, indeed, what +belongs objectively to the development of a melody, but only +that particular variety of progression to which we have become +accustomed. So it is that music which presents only the old, +simple progressions gives the greatest sense of ease, but the +least sense of effort--the ideal motion not being hindered on +its way. Intensity, vividness, would be felt where the +progression is less obvious, but felt as "fitting in" when it +is once made; and where it is not obvious at all--where the +link is not felt, a sense of dissatisfaction and restlessness +arises. So it is with music which we know by heart. It is +not that we know each note, and so expect it, but that it is +felt as necessarily issuing out of the preceding. A piece of +poor music, really heterogeneous and unconnected, might be +thoroughly familiar, and yet never, in this sense, felt as +SATISFYING expectation. In the same way, music in which the +progressions were germane to the existing tonality-feeling, +while still not absolutely obvious, would not be less quickening +to the musical sense, even if learned by heart. It is clear +that there is an external and an internal expectation--one, +imposed by memory, for the particular piece; the other constituted +partly by intrinsic internal relations, partly by the degree to +which these internal relations have been exploited. That is, +the possibility of musical expectation, and pleasure in its +satisfaction, is conditioned by the possession of a tonality- +feeling which covers the constituents of the piece of music, but +which has not become absolutely mechanical in its action. Just +as rhythm needs an obstacle to make the structure felt, so +melody needs some variation from the obvious set of relations +already won and possessed. If that possession is too complete, +the melody becomes as stale and uninteresting as would a 3-4 +rhythm without a change or a break. + +The test of genius in music, of the width and depth of mastery, +is to be able to become familiar without ceasing to be strange. +On the other hand, if in music to be great is always to be +misunderstood, it is no less true, here as elsewhere, that to +be misunderstood is not always to be great. And music may be +merely strange, and pass into oblivion, without ever having +passed that stage of surprised and delighted acceptance which +is the test of its truth to fundamental laws. + +But how shall music advance? How shall it set out to win new +relations? It is at least conceivable that it takes the method +of another art which we have just studied. To get new beauties, +it does not say,--Go to, I will add to the beauties I already +have! It makes new occasions, and by way of these finds the +impulse it seeks. Renoir paints the baigneuse of Montmartre, +and finds "the odd, beautiful huddle of lines" in so doing; +Rodin portrays ever new subtleties of situation and mood, and +by way of these comes most naturally to "the unedited poses." +So a musician, we may imagine, comes to new and strange +utterances by way of a new and strange motion or cry that he +imitates. Out of the various bents and impulses that these +give him he chooses the ones that chance to be beautiful. And +in time these new beauties have become worn away like the trite +metaphors that are now no longer metaphors, but part of the +"funded capital." That was a ridiculous device of Schumann's, +who found a motif for one of his loveliest things by using the +letters of his temporary fair one's name--A B E G G; but it +may not be so utterly unlike the procedure by which music grows. + + +VIII + +But what provision must be made for the emotions of music? It +cannot be that the majority of musicians, who are strangely +enough the very ones to insist that music is merely the +language of emotion, are utterly and essentially wrong. Nor +has it been attempted to prove them so. The beauty of music, +we have sought to show, grows and flowers out of tone-relations +alone, consists in tone-sequences alone. But it has not been +said that music did not arouse emotion, nor that it might not +on occasion even express it. + +It is in fact now rather a commonplace in musical theory, to +show the emotional means which music has at its command; and +I shall therefore be very brief in my reference to them. They +may be shortly classed as expressive by association and by +direct induction. Expressive by association are passages of +direct imitation: the tolling of bells, the clash of arms, the +roar of wind, the hum of spinning wheels, even to the bleating +of sheep and the whirr of windmills; the cadence of the voice +in pleading, laughter, love; from such imitations we are +REMINDED of a fact or an emotion. More intimate is the +expression by induction; emotion is aroused by activities +which themselves form part of the emotions in question. Thus +the differences in tempo, reproduced in nervous response, call +up the gayety, sadness, hesitation, firmness, haste, growing +excitement, etc., of which whole experiences these movement +types form a part. + +These emotions, as has often been shown, are absolutely +general and indefinite in their character, and are, on the +whole, even in their intensity, no measure of the beauty of +the music which arouses them. Indeed, we can get intense +emotion from sound which is entirely unmusical. So, too, +loudness, softness, crescendo, diminuendo, volume, piercingness, +have their emotional accompaniments. It is to Hanslick that +we owe the general summing up of these possibilities of +expression as "the dynamic figures of occurrences." How +this dynamic skeleton is filled out through association, or +that special form of association which we know as direct +induction, is not hard to understand on psychological grounds. +It is not necessary to repeat here the reasons for the literally +"moving" appeal of sound-stimulations, which have been already +detailed under the subject of rhythm. + +Yet there still remains a residue of emotion not entirely +accounted for. It has been said that these, the emotions +expressed, or aroused, are more or less independent of the +intrinsic musical beauty. But it cannot be denied that there +is an intense emotion which grows with the measure of the +beauty of a piece of music, and which music lovers are yet +loth to identify with the so-called general aesthetic emotion, +or with the "satisfaction of expectation," different varieties +of which, in fusion, we have tried to show as the basis of the +musical experience. The aesthetic emotion from a picture is +not like this, they say, and a mere satisfaction of expectation +is unutterably tame. This is unique, aesthetic, individual! + +I believe that the clue to this objection in the natural impulse +of mankind to confuse the intensity of an experience with a +difference in kind. But first of all, there must be added to +our list of definite emotions from music, those which attach +themselves to the internal relations of the notes. Gurney has +said that when we feel ourselves yearning for the next +unutterable, we are really yearning for the next note. That +is the secret! Each one of those tendencies, demands, leanings, +strivings, returns, as between tone and tone in a melody, is +necessarily accompanied by the feeling-tone which belongs to +such an attitude. And it is to be noted that all the more +poignant emotions we get from music are always stated in terms +of urgency, of strain, of effort. That is because these +emotions, and these alone, are inescapable in music since they +are founded on the intrinsic relations of the notes themselves. +It is just for this reason, too, that music, just in proportion +to its beauty, is felt, as some one says, like vinegar on a +wound, by those in grief or anxiety. + + "I shall loathe sweet tunes, where a note grown strong + Relents and recoils, and climbs and closes." + +It is the yearning that is felt most strongly, the more vividly +are the real musical relations of the notes brought out. + +Music expresses and causes tension, strain, yearning, through +its inner, its "absolute" nature. But it does more; it satisfies +these yearnings. It not only creates an expectation to satisfy +it, but the expectation itself is of a poignant, emotional, +personal character. What is the emotion that is aroused by such +a satisfaction? + +The answer to this question takes us back again to that old +picturesque theory of Schopenhauer--that music is the +objectification of the will. Schopenhauer meant this in a +metaphysical, and to us an inadmissible sense; but I believe +that the psychological analysis of the musical experience which +we have just completed shows that there is another sense in +which it is absolutely true. + +The best psychological theory of the experience of volition +makes it the imaging of a movement or action, followed by +feelings of strain, and then of the movement carried out. +The anticipation is the essential. Without anticipation, as +in the reflex, winking, the action appears involuntary. +Without the feeling of effort or strain, as in simply raising +the empty hand, the self-feeling is weaker. When all these +three elements, IMAGE, EFFORT, SUCCESS, are present most +vividly, the feeling is of triumphant volition. Now my thesis +is--the thesis toward which every though of the preceding has +pointed--that the fundamental facts of the musical experience +are supremely fitted to bring about the illusion and the +exaltation of the triumphant will. + +The image, dimly foreshadowed, is given in the half-consciousness +of each note as it appears, and in that sense of coming +integration already recognized. The proof is the shock and +disappointment when the wrong note is sounded; if we had not +some anticipation of the right, the wrong one would not shock. +The strain we have in the effort of the organism to reach the +note, the tendency to which is implicit in the preceding. The +success is given in the coming of the note itself. + +All this is no less true of rhythm--but there the expectation +is more mechanical, less conscious, as has been fully shown. +The more beautiful, that is, the more inevitably, irresistibly +right the music, the more powerful the influence to this illusion +of the triumphant will. The exaltation of musical emotion is +thus the direct measure of the perfection of the relations--the +beauty of the music. This, then, is the only intimate, immediate, +intrinsic emotion of music--the illusion of the triumphant will! + +One word more on the interpretation of music in general aesthetic +terms. All that has been said goes to show that music possesses +to the very highest degree the power of stimulation. Can we +attribute to it repose in any other sense than that of satisfying +a desire that it arouses? We can do so in pointing out that +music ever returns upon itself--that its motion is cyclic. Music +is the art of auditory implications; but more than this, its +last note returns to its first. It is as truly a unity as if +it were static. We may say that the beauty of a picture is only +entered into when the eye has roved over the whole canvas, and +holds all the elements indirectly while it is fixated upon one +point. In exactly the same way music is not beauty unless it +is ALL there; at every point a fusion of the heard tone with +the once heard tones in the order of their hearing. The melody, +as a set of implications, is as ESSENTIALLY timeless as the +picture. By melody too, then, is given the perfect moment, the +moment of unity and completeness, of stimulation and repose. + +The aesthetic emotion for music is then the favorable stimulation +of the sense of hearing and those other senses that are bound up +with it, together with the repose of perfect unity. It has a +richer color, a more intense exaltation in the illusion of the +triumphant will, which is indeed the peculiar moment for the +self in action. + + + +VI +THE BEAUTY OF LITERATURE + +VI +THE BEAUTY OF LITERATURE + +I + +THAT in the practice and pleasure of art for art's sake there +lurks an unworthy element, is a superstition that recurs in +every generation of critics. A most accomplished and modern +disciple of the gay science but yesterday made it a reproach +to the greatest living English novelist, that he, too, was +all for beauty, all for art, and had no great informing +purpose. "Art for art's sake" is clearly, to this critic's +mind, compatible with the lack of something all desirable for +novels. Yet if there is indeed a characteristic excellence +of the novel, if there is something the lack of which in a +novel is rightly deplored, then the real art for art's sake +is bound to include this characteristic excellence. If an +informing purpose is needed, no true artist can dispense +with it. Otherwise art for art's sake is a contradiction +in terms. + +The critic I have quoted merely voices the lingering Puritan +distrust of beauty as an end in itself, and so repudiates +the conception of beauty as containing all the excellences +of a work of art. He thinks of beauty as cut up into small +snips and shreds of momentary sensations; as the sweet sound +of melodious words and cadences; or as something abstract, +pattern-like, imposed from without,--a Procrustes-bed of +symmetry and proportion; or as a view of life Circe-like, +insidious, a golden languor, made of "the selfish serenities +of wild-wood and dream-palace." All these, apart or +together, are thought of as the "beauty," at which the +artist "for art's sake" aims, and to that is opposed the +nobler informing purpose. But the truer view of beauty +makes it simply the epitome of all which a work of art ought +to be, and thus the only end and aim of every work of art. +The beauty of literature receives into itself all the +precepts of literature: there is no "ought" beyond it. +And art for art's sake is but art conscious of its aim, the +production of that all-embracing beauty. + +What, then, is the beauty of literature? How may we know +its characteristic excellences? It is strange how, in all +serious discussion, to the confounding of some current ideas +of criticism, we are thrown back, inevitably, on this concept +of excellence! The most ardent of impressionists wakes up +sooner or later to the idea that he has been talking values +all his life. The excellences of literature! They must +lie within the general formula for beauty, yet they must be +conditioned by the possibilities of the special medium of +literature. The general formula, abstract and metaphysical +as it must be, may not be applied directly; for abstract +thought will fit only that art which can convey it; hence +the struggle of theorists with painting, music, and +architecture, and the failure of Hegel, for instance, to +show how beauty as "the expression of the Idea" resides in +these arts. But if the general formula is always translated +relatively to the sense-medium through which beauty must +reach the human being, it may be preserved, while yet +affirming all the special demands of the particular art. +Beauty is a constant function of the varying medium. The +end of Beauty is always the same, the perfect moment of +unity and self-completeness, of repose in excitement. But +this end is attained by different means furnished by +different media: through vision and its accompanying +activities; through hearing and its accompanying activities; +and for literature, through hearing in the special sense +of communication by word. It is the nature of this medium +that we must further discover. + + +II + +Now the word is nothing in itself; it is not sound primarily, +but thought. The word is but a sign, a negligible quantity +in human intercourse--a counter in which the coins are ideas +and emotions--merely legal tender, of no value save in +exchange. What we really experience in the sound of a +sentence, in the sight of a printed page, is a complex +sequence of visual and other images, ideas, emotions, feelings, +logical relations, swept along in the stream of consciousness, +--differing, indeed, in certain ways from daily experience, +but yet primarily of the web of life itself. The words in +their nuances, march, tempo, melody add certain elements to +this flood--hasten, retard, undulate, or calm it; but it is +the THOUGHT, the understood experience, that is the stuff of +literature. + +Words are first of all meanings, and meanings are to be +understood and lived through. We can hardly even speak of +the meaning of a word, but rather of what it is, directly, +in the mental state that is called up by it. Every definition +of a word is but a feeble and distant approximation of the +unique flash of experience belonging to that word. It is not +the sound sensation nor the visual image evoked by the word +which counts, but the whole of the mental experience, to +which the word is but an occasion and a cue. Therefore, since +literature is the art of words, it is the stream of thought +itself that we must consider as the material of literature. +In short, literature is the dialect of life--as Stevenson +said; it is by literature that the business of life is +carried on. Some one, however, may here demur: visual signs, +too, are the dialect of life. We understand by what we see, +and we live by what we understand. The curve of a line, the +crescendo of a note, serve also for wordless messages. Why +are not, then, painting and music the vehicles of experience, +and to be judged first as evocation of life, and only +afterward as sight and hearing? This conceded, we are thrown +back on that view of art as "the fixed quantity of imaginative +thought supplemented by certain technical qualities,--of +color in painting, of sound in music, of rhythmical words in +poetry," from which is has been the one aim of the preceding +arguments of this book to free us. + +The holders of this view, however, ignore the history and +significance of language. Our sight and hearing are given +to us prior to our understanding or use of them. In a way, +we submit to them--they are always with us. We dwell in +them through passive states, through seasons of indifference; +moreover when we see to understand, we do not SEE, and when +we hear to understand we do not hear. Only shreds of +sensation, caught up in our flight from one action to another, +serve as signals for the meanings which concern us. In +proportion as action is prompt and effective, does the cue +as such tend to disappear, until, in all matters of skill, +piano-playing, fencing, billiard-playing, the sight or sound +which serves as cue drops almost together out of consciousness. +So far as it is vehicle of information, it is no longer sight +or sound as such--interest has devoured it. But language +came into being to supplement the lacks of sight and sound. +It was created by ourselves, to embody all active outreaching +mental experience, and it comes into particular existence to +meet an insistent emergency--a literally crying need. In +short, it is CONSTITUTED by meanings--its essence is +communication. Sight and sound have a relatively independent +existence, and may hence claim a realm of art that is largely +independent of meanings. Not so the art of words, which can +be but the art of meanings, of human experience alone. + +And yet again, were the evocation of life the means and +material of all art, that art in which the level of imaginative +thought was low, the range of human experience narrow, would +take a low place in the scale. What, then, of music and +architecture? Inferior arts, they could not challenge +comparison with the poignant, profound, all-embracing art of +literature. But this is patently not the fact. There is no +hierarchy of the arts. We may not rank St. Paul's Cathedral +below "Paradise Lost." Yet is the material of all experience +is the material of all art, they must not only be compared, +but "Paradise Lost" must be admitted incomparably the +greater. No--we may not admit that all the arts alike deal +with the material of expression. The excellence of music +and architecture, whatever it may be, cannot depend on this +material. Yet by hypothesis it must be through the use of +its material that the end of beauty is reached by every art. +A picture has lines and masses and colors, wherewith to play +with the faculty of vision, to weave a spell for the whole man. +Beauty is the power to enchant him through the eye and all +that waits upon it, into a moment of perfection. Literature +has "all thoughts, all passions, all delights"--the treasury +of life--to play with, to weave a spell for the whole man. +Beauty in literature is the power to enchant him, through +the mind and heart, across the dialect of life, into a moment +of perfection. + + +III + +The art of letters, then, is the art whose material is life +itself. Such, indeed, is the implication of the approval +theories of style. Words, phrases, sentences, chapters, are +excellent in so far as they are identical with thought in +all its shades of feeling. "Economy of attention," Spencer's +familiar phrase for the philosophy of style, his explanation +of even the most ornate and extravagant forms, is but another +name for this desired lucidity of the medium. Pater, himself, +an artist in the overlaying of phrases, has the same teaching. +"All the laws of good writing aim at a similar unity or +identity of the mind in all the processes by which the word is +associated to its import. The term is right, and has its +essential beauty, when it becomes, in a manner, what it +signifies, as with the names of simple sensations."<1> He +quotes therewith De Maupassant on Flaubert: "Among all the +expressions in the world, all forms and turns of expression, +there is but ONE--one form, one mode--to express what I want +to say." And adds, "The one word for the one thing, the one +thought, amid the multitude of words, terms, that might just +do: the problem of style was there!--the unique word, phrase, +sentence, paragraph, essay, or song, absolutely proper to the +single mental presentation or vision within."... + +<1> _Appreciations: An Essay on Style._ + +Thought in words is the matter of literature; and words exist +but for thought, and get their excellence as thought; yet, as +Flaubert says, the idea only exists by virtue of the form. +The form, or the word, IS the idea; that is, it carries along +with it the fringe of suggestion which crystallizes the floating +possibility in the stream of thought. A glance at the history +of language shows how this must have been so. Words in their +first formation were doubtless constituted by their imitative +power. As Taine has said,<1> at the first they arose in contact +with the objects; they imitated them by the grimaces of mouth +and nose which accompanied their sound, by the roughness, +smoothness, length, or shortness of this sound, by the rattle +or whistle of the throat, by the inflation or contraction of +the chest. + +<1> H. Taine, _La Fontaine et ses Fables_, p. 288. + +This primitive imitative power of the word survives in the +so-called onomatapoetic words, which aim simply at reproducing +the sounds of nature. A second order of imitation arises through +the associations of sensations. The different sensations, +auditory, visual, olfactory, tactile, motor, and organic have +common qualities, which they share with other more complex +experiences; of form, as force or feebleness; of feeling, as +harshness, sweetness, and so on. It is, indeed, another case +of the form-qualities to which we recurred so often in the +chapter on music. Clear and smooth vowels will give the +impression of volatility and delicacy; open, broad ones of +elevation or extension (airy, flee; large, far). The consonants +which are hard to pronounce will give the impression of effort, +of shock, of violence, of difficulty, of heaviness,--"the round +squat turret, black as the fool's heart;" those which are easy +of pronunciation express ease, smoothness, fluidity, calm, +lightness, (facile, suave, roulade);--"lucent syrops, tinct with +cinnamon," a line like honey on the tongue, of which physical +organ, indeed, one becomes, with the word "tinct," definitely +conscious. + +In fact, the main point to notice in the enumeration of the +expressive qualities of sounds, is that it is the movement in +utterance which characterizes them. That movement tends to +reproduce itself in the hearer, and carries with it its feeling- +tone of ease or difficulty, explosiveness or sweetness long +drawn out. It is thus by a kind of sympathetic induction rather +than by external imitation that these words of the second type +become expressive. + +Finally, the two moments may be combined, as in such a word as +"roaring," which is directly imitative of a sound, and by the +muscular activity it calls into play suggests the extended +energy of the action itself. + +The stage in which the word becomes a mere colorless, algebraic +sign of object or process never occurs, practically, for in any +case it has accumulated in its history and vicissitudes a fringe +of suggestiveness, as a ship accumulates barnacles. "Words carry +with them all the meanings they have worn," says Walter Raleigh +in his "Essay on Style." "A slight technical implication, a +faint tinge of archaism in the common turn of speech that you +employ, and in a moment you have shaken off the mob that scours +the rutted highway, and are addressing a select audience of +ticket-holders with closed doors." Manifold may be the +implications and suggestions of even a single letter. Thus a +charming anonymous essay on the word "Grey." "Gray is a quiet +color for daylight things, but there is a touch of difference, +of romance, even, about things that are grey. Gray is a color +for fur, and Quaker gowns, and breasts of doves, and a gray +day, and a gentlewoman's hair; and horses must be gray....Now +grey is for eyes, the eyes of a witch, with green lights in +them and much wickedness. Gray eyes would be as tender and +yielding and true as blue ones; a coquette must have eyes of +grey." + +Words do not have meanings, they ARE meanings through their +power of direct suggestion and induction. They may become +what they signify. Nor is this power confined to words alone; +on its possession by the phrase, sentence, or verse rests the +whole theory of style. The short, sharp staccato, the bellowing +turbulent, the swimming melodious circling sentence ARE truly +what they mean, in their form as in the objective sense of +their words. The sound-values of rhythm and pace have been in +other chapters fully dwelt upon; the expressive power of breaks +and variations is worth noting also. Of the irresistible +significance of rhythm, even against content, we have an +example amusingly commented on by Mr. G.K. Chesterton in his +"Twelve Types." "He (Byron) may arraign existence on the most +deadly charges, he may condemn it with the most desolating +verdict, but he cannot alter the fact that on some walk in a +spring morning when all the limbs are swinging and all the +blood alive in the body, the lips may be caught repeating: + +'Oh, there's not a joy the world can give like that it takes + away, +When the glow of early youth declines in beauty's dull + decay.' + +That automatic recitation is the answer to the whole pessimism +of Byron." + + +IV + +Such, then, are some of the means by which language becomes +identical with thought, and most truly the dialect of life. +The genius will have ways, to which these briefly outlined +ones will seem crude and obvious, but they will be none the +less of the same nature. Shall we then conclude that the +beauty of literature is here? that, in the words of Pater, +from the essay I have quoted, "In that perfect justice (of +the unique word)...omnipresent in good work, in function at +every point, from single epithets to the rhythm of a whole +book, lay the specific, indispensable, very intellectual +beauty of literature, the possibility of which constitutes +it a fine art." + +In its last analysis, such a conception of literature amounts +to the unimpeded intercourse of mind with mind. Literature +would be a language which dispenses with gesture, facial +expression, tone of voice; which is, in its halts, accelerations +and retardations, emphases and concessions, the apotheosis +of conversation. But this clearness,--in the sublime sense, +including the ornate and the subtle,--this luminous lucidity,-- +is it not quite indeterminate? Clearness is said of a medium. +WHAT is it that shines through? + +Were this clearness the beauty we are seeking, whatever in +the world that wanted to get itself said, would, if it were +perfectly said, become a final achievement of literature. All +that the plain man looks for, we must think rightly, in poetry +and prose, might be absent, and yet we should have to +acknowledge its excellence. Let us then consider this quality +by which the words become what they signify as the specific +beauty rather of style than of literature; the mere refining +of the gold from which the work of art has yet to be made. +Language is the dialect of life; and the most perfect language +can be no more than the most perfect truth of intercourse. It +must then be through the treatment of life, or the sense of +life itself, that we are somehow to attain the perfect moment +of beauty. + +The sense of life! In what meaning are these words to be +taken? Not the completest sense of all, because the essence +of life is in personal responsibility to a situation, and this +is exactly what in our experience of literature disappears. +First of all, then, before asking how the moment of beauty is +to be attained, we must see how it is psychologically possible +to have a sense of life that is yet purged of the will to live. + +All experience of life is a complication of ideas, emotions, +and attitudes or impulses to action in varying proportions. +The sentiment of reality is constituted by our tendency to +interfere, to "take a hand." Sometimes the stage of our +consciousness is so fully occupied by the images of others +that our own reaction is less vivid. Finally, all conditions +and possibilities of reaction may be so minimized that the +only attitude possible is our acceptance or rejection of a +world in which such things can be. What does it "matter" to +me whether or not "the old, unhappy, far-off things" really +happened? The worlds of the Borgias, of Don Juan, and of the +Russian war stand on the same level of reality. Aucassin and +Nicolette are as near to me as Abelard and Heloise. For in +relation to these persons my impulse is NIL. I submit to +them, I cannot change or help them; and because I have no +impulse to interfere, they are not vividly real to me. And, +in general, in so far as I am led to contemplate or to dwell +on anything in idea, in so far does my personal attitude tend +to parallel this impersonal one toward real persons temporally +or geographically out of reach. + +Now in literature all conditions tend to the enormous +preponderance of the ideal element in experience. My mind +in reading is completely filled with ideas of the appearance, +ways, manners, and situation of the people concerned. I leave +them a clear field. My emotions are enlisted only as the +inevitable fringe of association belonging to vivid ideas-- +the ideas of their emotions. So far as all the possibilities +of understanding are fulfilled for me, so far as I am in +possession of all the conditions, so far do I "realize" the +characters, but realize them as ideas tinged with feeling. + +Here there will be asseverations to the contrary. What! feel +no real emotion over Little Nell, or Colonel Newcome? no +emotion in that great scene of passion and despair, the parting +of Richard Feverel and Lucy,--a scene which none can read save +with tight throat and burning eyes! Even so. It is not real +emotion. You have the vivid ideas, so vivid that a fringe of +emotional association accompanies them, as you might shudder +remembering a bad dream. But the real emotion arises only +from the real impulse, the real responsibility. + +The sense of life that literature gives might be described as +life in its aspect as idea. That this fact is the cause of +the peace and painlessness of literature--since it is by his +actions, as Aristotle says, that man is happy or the reverse-- +need not concern us here. For the beauty of literature, and +our joy in it, lie not primarily in its lack of power to hurt +us. The point is that literature gives none the less truly a +sense of life because it happens to be one extreme aspect of +life. The literary way is only one of the ways in which life +can be met. + +To give the sense of life perfectly--to create the illusion +of life--is this, then, the beauty of literature? But we are +seeking for the perfect moment of stimulation and repose. Why +should the perfect illusion of life give this, any more than +life itself does? So the "vision" of a picture might be +intensely clear, and yet the picture itself unbeautiful. Such +a complete "sense of life," such clear "vision," would show +the artist's mastery of technique, but not his power to create +beauty. In the art of literature, as in the art of painting, +the normal function is but the first condition, the state of +perfection is the end at which to aim. + +It is just this distinction that we can properly make between +the characteristic or typical in the sense of differentiated, +and the great or excellent in literature. In the theory of +some writers, perfect fidelity to the type is the only +originality. To paint the Russian peasant or the French +bourgeois as he is, to catch the exact shade of exquisite +soullessness in Oriental loves, to reproduce the Berserker +rage or the dull horror of battle, is indeed to give the +perfect sense of life. But the perfect, or the complete, +sense of life is not the moment of perfect life. + +Yet to this assertion two answers might be made. The authors +of "Bel-Ami," or "Madame Chrysantheme," or "The Triumph of +Death," might claim to be saved by their form. The march of +events, the rounding climax, the crystal-clear unity of the +finished work, they might say, gives the indispensable union, +for the perfect moment of stimulation and repose. No syllable +in the slow unfolding of exquisite cadences but is supremely +placed from the first page to the last. As note calls to +note, so thought calls to thought, and feeling to feeling, +and the last word is an answer to the first of the inevitable +procession. A writer's donnee, they would say, is his own. +The reader may only bed--Make me something fine after your +own fashion! + +And they would have to be acknowledged partly in the right. +In that inevitable unity of form there is indeed a necessary +element of the perfect moment; but it is not a perfect unity. +For the matter of their art should be, in the last analysis, +life itself; and the unity of life itself, the one basic +unity of all, they have missed. It is a hollow sphere they +present, and nothing solid. Henry James has spent the whole +of a remarkable essay on D'Annunzio's creations in determining +the meaning of "the fact that their total beauty somehow +extraordinarily fails to march with their beauty of parts, +and that something is all the while at work undermining that +bulwark against ugliness which it is their obvious theory of +their own office to throw up." The secret is, he avers, that +the themes, the "anecdotes," could find their extension and +consummation only in the rest of life. Shut out, as they are, +from the rest of life, shut out from all fruition and +assimilation, and so from all hope of dignity, they lose +absolutely their power to sway us. + +It might be simpler to say that these works lack the first +beauty which literature as the dialect of life can have--they +lack the repose of centrality; they have no identity with the +meaning of life as a whole. It could not be said of them, as +Bagehot said of Shakespeare: "He puts things together, he +refers things to a principle; rather, they group themselves +in his intelligence insensibly around a principle;...a cool +oneness, a poised personality, pervades him." But in these +men there is no cool oneness, no reasonable soul, and so they +miss the central unity of life, which can give unity to +literature. Even the apparent structural unity fails when +looked at closely; the actions of the characters are seen to +be mechanical--their meaning is not inevitable. + +The second answer to our assertion that the "sense of life" is +not the beauty of literature might call attention to the fact +that SENSE of life may be taken as understanding of life. A +complete sense of life must include the conditions of life, and +the conditions of life involve this very "energetic identity" +on which we have insisted. And this contention we must admit. +So long as the sense of life is taken as the illusion of life, +our words hold good. But if to that is added understanding of +life, the door is open to the profoundest excellences of +literature. Henry James has glimpsed this truth in saying that +no good novel will ever proceed from a superficial mind. +Stevenson has gone further. "But the truth is when books are +conceived under a great stress, with a soul of ninefold power, +nine time heated and electrified by effort, the conditions +of our being seized with such an ample grasp, that even should +the main design be trivial or base, some truth and beauty +cannot fail to be expressed." + + +V + +The conditions of our being! If we accept, affirm, profoundly +rest in what is presented to us, we have the first condition of +that repose which is the essence of the aesthetic experience. +And from this highest demand can be viewed the hierarchy of the +lesser perfections which go to make up the "perfect moment" of +literature. Instead of reaching this point by successive +eliminations, we might indeed have reached it in one stride. +The perfect moment across the dialect of life, the moment of +perfect life, must be in truth that in which we touch the +confines of our being, look upon our world, all in all, as +revealed in some great moment, and see that it is good--that +we grasp it, possess it, that it is akin to us, that it is +identical with our deepest wills. The work that grasps the +conditions of our being gives ourselves back to us completed. + +In the conditions of our being in a less profound sense may +be found the further means to the perfect moment. Thus the +progress of events, the development of feelings, must be in +harmony with our natural processes. The development, the +rise, complication, expectation, gratification, the suspense, +climax, and drop of the great novel, correspond to the natural +functioning of our mental processes. It is an experience that +we seek, multiplied, perfected, expanded--the life moment of +a man greater than we. This, too, is the ultimate meaning of +the demands of style. Lucidity, indeed, there must be,-- +identity with the thought; but besides the value of the thought +in its approximation to the conditions of our being, we seek +the vividness of that thought,--the perfect moment of +apprehension, as well as of experience. It is the beauty of +style to be lucid; but the beauty of lucidity is to reinforce +the springs of thought. + +Even to the minor elements of style, the tone-coloring, the +rhythm, the melody,--the essence of beauty, that is, of the +perfect moment, is given by the perfecting of the experience. +The beauty of liquids is their ease and happiness of utterance. +The beauty of rhythm is its aiding and compelling power, on +utterance and thought. There is a sensuous pleasure in a +great style; we love to mouth it, for it is made to mouth. +As Flaubert says somewhat brutally, "Je ne said qu'une phrase +est bonne qu'apres l'avoir fait passer par mon gueuloir." + +In the end it might be said that literature gives us the +moment of perfection, and is thus possessed of beauty, when +it reveals ourselves to ourselves in a better world of +experience; in the conditions of our moral being, in the +conditions of our utterance and our breathing;--all these, +concentric circles, in which the centre of repose is given +by the underlying identity of ourselves with this world. +Because it goes to the roots of experience, and seeks to give +the conditions of our being as they really are, literature +may be truly called a criticism of life. Yet the end of +literature is not the criticism of life; rather the +appreciation of life--the full savour of life in its entirety. +The final definition of literature is the art of experience. + + +VI + +But then literature would give only the perfect moments of +existence, would ignore the tragedies, ironies, pettiness of +life! Such an interpretation is a quite mistaken one. As +the great painting uses the vivid reproduction of an ugly +face, a squalid hovel, to create a beautiful picture, beautiful +because all the conditions of seeing are made to contribute to +our being made whole in seeing; so great literature can attain +through any given set of facts to the deeper harmony of life, +can touch the one poised, unconquerable soul, and can reinforce +the moment of self-completeness by every parallel device of +stimulation and concentration. And because it is most often +in the tragedies that the conditions of our being are laid +bare, and the strings which reverberate to the emotions most +easily played upon, it is likely that the greatest books of all +will be the tragedies themselves. The art of experience needs +contrasts no less than does the visual or auditory art. + +This beauty of literature, because it is a hierarchy of beauties +more and less essential, exists in all varieties and in all +shades. If the old comparison and contrast of idealism and +realism is referred to here, it is because that ancient +controversy seems not even yet entirely outworn. If realism +means close observation of facts and neglect of ideas, and +idealism, neglect of prosaic facts and devotion to ideas, then +we must admit that realism and idealism are the names of two +defective types. Strictly speaking, whatever goes deep enough +to the truth of things, gets nearer reality, is realism; yet +to get nearer reality is to attain true ideas, and that is +idealism too. The great work of literature is realistic +because it does not lose sight of the ideal. Our popular use +of idealistic refers, indeed, to the world seen through rose- +colored glasses; but for that possible variety of literary +effort it is better to use the word Romance. Romance is the +world of our youthful dreams of things, not as they do happen, +but as, without any special deeper meaning, we should wish them +to happen. That is the world of the gold-haired maiden, "the +lover with the red-roan steed of steeds," the purse of +Fortunatus, the treasure-trove, the villain confronted with +his guilt. "Never the time and the place and the loved one +all together!" But in Romance they come together. The total +depravity of inanimate things has become the stars in their +courses fighting for us. Stevenson calls it the poetry of +circumstance--for the dreams of youth are properly healthy +and material. The salvage from the wreck in "Robinson Crusoe," +he tells us, satisfies the mind like things to eat. Romance +gives us the perfect moment of the material and human--with +the divine left out. + +It has sometimes been made a reproach to critics--more often, +I fear, by those who hold, like myself, that beauty and +excellence in art are identical--that they discourse too little +of form in literature, and too much of content. But all our +taking thought will have been vain, if it is not now patent +that the first beauty of literature is, and must be, its +identity with the central flame of life,--the primal conditions +of our being. Thus it is that the critic is justified in +asking first of all, How does this man look on life? Has he +revealed a new--or better--the eternal old meaning? The +Weltanschauung is the critic's first consideration, and after +that he may properly take up that secondary grasp of the +conditions of our being in mental processes, revealed in the +structure, march of incidents, suspense, and climaxes, and the +beauty or idiosyncracy of style. It is then literally false +that it does not matter what a man says, but only how he says +it. What he says is all that matters, for it will not be great +thought without some greatness in the saying. Art for art's +sake in literature is then art for life's sake, and the +"informing purpose," in so far as that means the vision of our +deepest selves, is its first condition. + +And because the Beauty of Literature is constituted by its +quality as life itself, we may defer detailed consideration +of the species and varieties of literature. Prose and poetry, +drama and novel, have each their own special excellences +springing from the respective situations they had, and have, +to meet. Yet these but add elements to the one great power +they all must have as literature,--the power to give the +perfect experience of life in its fullness and vividness, and +in its identity with the central meanings of existence,--unity +and self-completeness together,--in a form which offers to our +mental functions the perfect moment of stimulation and repose. + + + +VII + +THE NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS OF THE DRAMA + + +VII + +THE NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS OF THE DRAMA + +I + +THAT psychologist who, writing on the problems of dramatic +art, called his brochure "The Dispute over Tragedy," gave +the right name to a singular situation. Of all the riddles +of aesthetic experi8ence, none has been so early propounded, +so indefatigably attempted, so variously and unsatisfactorily +solved, as this. What is dramatic? What constitutes a +tragedy? How can we take pleasure in painful experiences? +These questions are like Banquo's ghost, and will not down. + +The ingenious Bernays has said that it was all the fault of +Aristotle. The last phrase of the famous definition in the +"Poetics," which should relate the nature, end, and aim of +tragedy, is left, in his works as we have them, probably +through the suppression or loss of context, without elucidating +commentary. And the writers on tragedy have ever since so +striven to guess his meaning, and to make their answers square +with contemporary drama, that they have given comparatively +slight attention to the immediate, unbiased investigation of +the phenomenon itself. Aristotle's definition is as follows:<1> +"Tragedy, then, is an imitation of an action that is serious, +complete, and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished +with each kind of artistic ornament, the several kinds being +found in separate parts of the play: in the form of action, +not of narrative; through pity and fear effecting the proper +purgation of these emotions." In what follows, he takes up +and explains this definition, phrase by phrase, until the very +last. What is meant by the Purgation (Katharsis) through pity +and fear? It is at least what tragedy "effects," and is thus +evidently the function of tragedy. But a thing is determined, +constructed, judged, according to its function; the function +is, so to speak, its genetic formula. With a clear view of +that, the rest of the definition could conceivably have been +constructed without further explanation; without it, the key +to the whole fails. "Purgation of these emotions;" did it +mean purification of the emotions, or purgation of the soul +FROM the emotions? And what emotions? Pity and fear, or +"these and suchlike," thus including all emotions that tragedy +could bring to expression? + +<1> S.H. Butcher, _Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and Fine Art_, +1895. + +Our knowledge of the severely moral bent of the explicit art +criticism of the Greeks has inclined many to accept the first +interpretation; and modern interests impel in the same direction. +It is natural to think of the generally elevating and softening +effects of great art as a kind of moral clarifying, and the +question how this should be effected just by pity and fear was +not pressed. So Lessing in the "Hamburgische Dramaturgie" takes +Katharsis as the conversion of the emotions in general into +virtuous dispositions. + +Before we ask ourselves seriously how far this represents our +experience of the drama, we must question its fidelity to the +thought of Aristotle; and that question seems to have received +a final answer in the exhaustive discussion of Bernays.<1> +Without going into his arguments, suffice it to say that +Aristotle, scientist and physician's son as he was, had in +mind in using this striking metaphor of the Katharsis of the +emotions, a perfectly definite procedure, familiar in the +treatment, by exciting music, of persons overcome by the ecstasy +or "enthusiasm" characteristic of certain religious rites. +Bernays quotes Milton's preface to "Samson Agonistes:" "Tragedy +is said by Aristotle to be of power, by raising pity and fear, +or terror, to purge the mind of those and such like passions; +that is, to temper and reduce them to just measure with a kind +of delight, stirred by reading or seeing those passions well +imitated. Nor is Nature wanting in her own effects to make +good his assertion; for so in physic, things of melancholic +hue and quality are used against melancholy, sour against +sour, salt to remove salt humours," adding "the homoeopathic +comparison shows how near he was to the correct notion." +Bernays concludes that by Katharsis is denoted the "alleviating discharge" of the emotions themselves. In other words, pity +and fear are bad, and it is a good thing to get rid of them +in a harmless way, as it is better to be vaccinated than to +have small pox. + +<1> _Zwei adhandlungen uber d. Aristotelische Theories d. +Drama_, 1880. + +Now this alleviating discharge is pleasurable (meth hedones), +and the pleasure seems, from allied passages, to arise not in +the accomplished relief from oppression, but in the process +itself. This becomes intelligible from the point of view of +Aristotle's definition of pleasure as an ecstatic condition of +the soul. For every emotion contains, according to Aristotle, +be it ever so painful, an ecstatic degree would effect, at the +same time with an alleviating discharge, a pleasure also. Pity +and fear are aroused to be allayed, and to give pleasure in the +arousing and the relief. + +Such, approximately, is Aristotle's view of the Tragic Emotion, +or Katharsis. Is it also our own? To clear the field for this +inquiry, it will be well first of all to insist on a distinction +which is mostly discounted in significance because taken for +granted. We speak o Aristotle's Katharsis as the Tragic Emotion, +forgetting that to-day Tragedy and the Tragic are no longer +identical. Aristotle conceives himself to be dealing with the +peculiar emotion aroused by a certain dramatic form, the name +of which ha nothing to do with its content. For Tragedy is +literally goat-song, perhaps from the goat-skins worn by the +first performers of tragedy disguised as satyrs. Since then +we have borrowed the name of that dramatic form to apply to +events which have the same type or issue as in that form. In +popular speech to-day the word tragic attaches itself rather +to the catastrophe than to the struggle, and therefore, I cannot +but think, modern discussion of "the tragic" is wrong in +attempting to combine the Aristotelian and the modern shades +of meaning, and to embody them both in a single definition. +Aristotle is dealing with the whole effect of the dramatic +representation of what we should call a tragic occurrence. It +is really the theory of the dramatic experience and not of the +tragic, in our sense, which occupies him. Therefore, as I say, +we must not assume, with many modern critics, than an analysis +of the tragic in experience will solve the problem of the +Katharsis. Our "tragic event," it is true, is of the kind +which dramatically treated helped to bring about this peculiar +effect. But the question of Aristotle and our problem of +Katharsis is the problem of the emotion aroused by the Tragic +Drama. What, then, is the nature of dramatic emotion? + + +II + +The analogy of Aristotle's conception of the emotion of +tragedy with certain modern views is evident. To feel pain +is to live intensely, it is said; to be absorbed in great, +even though overwhelming, events is to make us realize our +own pulsing life. The criticism to be made on this theory +is, however, no less simple: it consists merely in denying +the fact. It does not give us pleasure to have painful +emotions or to see other people's sorrows, in spite of the +remains of the "gorille feroce" in us, to which Taine and +M. Faguet attribute this imputed pleasure. And if we feel +pleasure, excitement, elevation in the representation of +the tragic, it must be due to some other element in the +experience than the mere self-realization involved in +suffering. It is indeed our first impulse to say that the +painful quality vanishes when the exciting events are known +to be unreal; pity and fear are painful because too intense, +and in the drama are just sufficiently moderated. The +rejoinder is easy, that pity and fear are never anything, +but painful down to the vanishing point. The slight pity +for a child's bruised finger is not more pleasurable because +less keen; while our feeling, whatever it is, for Ophelia +or Gretchen, becomes more pleasurable in proportion to its +intensity. + +It is clear that the matter is not so simple as Aristotle's +psychology would make it. Pity and fear do not in themselves +produce pleasure, relief, and repose. These emotions as +aroused by tragedy are either not what we know as pity and +fear in real life, or the manner of their undergoing brings +in an entirely new element, on which Aristotle has not +touched. In some way or other the pity and fear of tragedy +are not like the pity and fear of real life, and in this +distinction lies the whole mystery of the dramatic Katharsis. + +But there is an extension of Aristotle's theory, lineally +descended from that of Lessing, which professes to elucidate +this difference and must be taken account of, inasmuch as it +represents the modern popular view. Professor Butcher, in +his edition of the "Poetics," concludes, on the basis of a +reference in the "Politics" implying that the Katharsis of +enthusiasm is not identical with the Katharsis of pity and +fear, that the word is to be taken less literally, as an +expulsion of the morbid elements in the emotions,--and these +he takes to be the selfish elements which cling to them in +real life. Thus "the spectator, who is brought face to face +with grander sufferings than his own, experiences a +sympathetic ecstasy, a listing out of himself. It is +precisely in this transport of feeling, which carries a man +outside his individual self, that the distinctive tragic +pleasure resides. Pity and fear are purged of the impure +element which clings to them in life. In the glow of tragic +excitement these feelings are so transformed that the net +result is a noble emotional satisfaction." + +In spite of our feeling that the literal and naive reading +of the analogy was probably after all nearer Aristotle's +meaning, we may accept the words of Professor Butcher as its +modern formulation. They sound, indeed, all but a truism: +yet they are seen on examination to glide lightly over some +psychological difficulties. Firstly, the step is a long +one from the pity and fear felt by the Greek toward or about +the actors, to a sharing of their emotion. The one is a +definite external relation, limited to two emotions; the +other, the "sympathetic ecstasy," opens the door to all +conceivable emotions, and needs at least to be justified. +But, secondly, even suppose the step taken; suppose the +"sympathetic imitation" conceded as a fact: the objections +to Aristotle's interpretation are equally applicable to +this. Why should this "transport of sympathetic feeling" +not take the form of a transport of pain? Why should the +net result be "a noble emotional satisfaction?" If pity +and fear remain pity and fear, whether selfish or unselfish, +it doth not yet appear why they are emotionally satisfactory. +The "so transformed" of the passage quoted assumes the point +at issue and begs the question. That is, if this transformation +of feeling does indeed take place, there is at least nothing +in the nature of the situation, as yet explained, to account +for it. But explanation there must be. To this, the lost +passage on the Katharsis must have been devoted; this, every +thorough-going study of the theory of the drama must make +an indispensable preliminary. What there is in the nature +of tragic art capable of transforming painful to pleasurable +emotion must be made clear. Before we can accept Professor +Butcher's view of the function of Tragedy, its possibility +as a psychological experience must be demonstrated. For the +immediately pleasurable aesthetic effect of Tragedy, a certain +kind of pity and fear, operating in a special way, are required. +It must be thus only in the peculiar character of the emotions +aroused that the distinctive nature of the tragic experience +consists. What is this peculiar character? + + +III + +A necessary step to the explanation of our pleasure in +supposedly painful emotions is to make clear how we can feel +any emotion at all in watching what we know to be unreal, and +to show how this emotion is sympathetic, that is, imitative, +rather than of an objective reference. In brief, why do we +feel WITH, rather than toward or about, the actors? + +The answer to this question requires a reference to the current +theory of emotion. According to modern psychologists, emotion +is constituted by the instinctive response to a situation; it +is the feeling accompanying very complicated physical reactions, +which have their roots in actions once useful in the history +of mankind. Thus the familiar "expression" of anger, the +flushed face, dilated nostril, clenched fist, are remains or +marks of reactions serviceable in mortal combat. But these, +the "coarser" bodily changes proper to anger, are accompanied +by numberless organic reactions, the "feel" of all of which +together is an indispensable element of the emotion of anger. +The point to be noted in all this is that these reactions are +ACTIONS, called up by something with which we literally HAVE +TO DO. + +A person involved in real experience does not reproduce the +emotions about him, for in real life he must respond to the +situation, take an attitude of help, consolation, warning; +and the character of these reactions determines for him an +emotion of his own. Even though he really do nothing, the +multitudinous minor impulses to action going to make up his +attitude appreciably interfere with the reproduction of the +reactions of the object of his interest. In an exactly +opposite way the artificial conditions of the spectator at a +play, which reinforce the vivid reproduction of ideas, and +check action, stifle those emotions directed toward the players, +the objective emotions of which we have spoken. The spectator +is completely cut off from all possibilities of influence on +events. Between his world and that across the footlights an +inexpressible gulf is fixed. He cannot take an "attitude," +he can have nothing to do in this galere. Since he may not +act, even those beginnings of action which make the basis of +emotion are inhibited in him. The spectator at a play experiences +much more clearly and sharply than the sympathetic observer; +only the proportions of his mental contents are different. +This, I say, accounts for the absence of the real pity and +fear, which were supposed to be directed toward the persons +in the play. But so far as yet appears there is every reason +to expect the sympathetic reproduction of the emotions of the +persons themselves. + +Let us briefly recall the situation. The house is darkened +and quiet; all lines converge to the stage, which is brightly +lighted, and heightened in visual effect by every device known +to art. The onlooker's mind is emptied of its content; all +feeling of self is pushed down to its very lowest level. He +has before him a situation which he understands through sight +and hearing, and in which he follows the action not only by +comprehension, but by instinctive imitation. This is the great +vehicle of suggestion. We cannot see tears rise without moisture +in our own eyes; we reproduce a yawn even against our will; the +sudden or the regular movement of a companion we are forced to +follow, at least incipiently. Now the expression which we +imitate brings up in us to a certain extent the whole complex +of ideas and feeling-tones belonging to that expression. +Moreover, the more closely we attend to it, the more explicitly +do we imitate it, by an evident psychological principle. Thus +in the artificially contrived situation of the spectator at a +play, he is forced, not only to understand intellectually, but +also to FOLLOW, quite literally, the emotional movements of +the actors. The process of understanding, raised to the highest +pitch, involves by its very nature also reproduction of what is +understood. The complex of the ideas and associations of the +persons of the play is ideally reproduced. Are not the organic +reactions belonging to these set up too?--not directly, in +response to a situation in which the spectator may act, but +directly, by reproduction of the mental contents of one who +may act, the person of the drama. The final answer to this +question contains, to my mind, the whole kernel of the dramatic +mystery, and the starting-point for an aesthetic theory of +tragedy. + + +IV + +Every play contains at least two actors. The suggestion of +states of mind does not come from the hero alone, but is given +by two persons, or groups of persons, at once. These persons +are, normally, in conflict. Othello menaces, Desdemona shrinks; +Nora asserts her right, Hilmar his claim; L'Aiglon vaunts his +inherited personality, Metternich--holds the candle to the +mirror! But what of the spectator? He cannot at once shrink +and menace, assert and deny, as the conditions of sympathetic +reproduction would seem to demand. Real emotion implies a +definite set of reactions of the nature of movements; and two +opposed movements cannot take place at the same time. Ideas, +however, can dwell together in amity. The spectator has a +vivid picture of Othello and Desdemona together; but his +reactions have neutralized each other, and his emotions, lacking +their organic conditions, are in abeyance. + +This is the typical dramatic moment, for it is the one which +is alone characteristic of the drama. Only in the simultaneous +realization of two opposing forces is the full mutual checking +of emotional impulses possible, and it is only in this +simultaneous realization that the drama differs from all other +forms of art. When the two antagonistic purposes are actually +presented to the onlooker in the same moment of time, then alone +can be felt the vividness of realization, the tension of conflict, +the balance of emotion, the "alleviation" of the true Katharsis! + +But what is this? No emotion after all, when the very traditional +test of our enjoyment of a play is the amount of feeling it +arouses!--when hearts beat, hands clench, tears flow! Emotion +there is, it may not be denied; but not the sympathetic emotions +of the traditional theory. + +What emotion? The mutual checking of impulses in a balance, a +tension, a conflict which is yet a bond; and this it is which +is the clue to the excitement or exaltation which in the dramatic +experience usurps the place of definite feeling. We have met +this phenomenon before. Aesthetic emotion in general, we have +heard, consists just in the union of a kind of stimulation or +enhanced life, with repose; a heightening of the vital energies +unaccompanied by any tendency to movement,--in short, that +gathering of forces which we connect with action, and which is +felt the more because action is checked. Just such a repose +through equilibrium of impulses is given by the dramatic conflict. +Introspection makes assurance doubly sure. The tense exaltation +of the typical aesthetic experience, undirected, unlimited, pure +of personal or particular reference, is reproduced in this +nameless ecstasy of the tragic drama. The mysterious Katharsis, +the emotion of tragedy, is, then, a special type of the unique +aesthetic emotion. + +And it is the singular peculiar characteristic of the drama-- +the face to face confrontation of forces--which furnishes these +conditions. As we might have foreseen, the peculiar Katharsis, +or pleasurable disappearance or alleviation of emotion in +tragedy, is based on just those elements in which the drama +differs from other forms of art. Confrontation, and not action, +as the dramatic principle, is the important deduction from our +theory;--is, indeed, but the objective aspect of it. + +The view of confrontation as the dramatic principle is confirmed +by dramatic literature. We emphasize in our study of Greek plays +their simplicity of plot, their absence of intrigue, their +sculptural, bas-relief quality. The Greek drama makes of a poem +a crisis, says M. Faguet. A tragedy is a well-composed group, +a fine contrast, a beautiful effect of imposing symmetry--as +in the "Antigone," "on one side civil law in all its blind +rigor, on the other moral law in all its splendor." The only +element in common with the modern type is found in the conflict +of wills. Could such a play as the "Suppliants" of Euripedes +find any aesthetic justification, save that it has the one +dramatic essential--confrontation, balance of emotions? The +very scenes of short speeches, of objurgation or sententious +repartee, which cannot but have for us an element of the +grotesque, must have been as pleasing as they were to the Greek +audience, from the fact that they brought to sharpest vision +the confrontation of the two antagonists. The mediaeval drama, +which has become popularly known in "Everyman," is nothing but +a succession of duels, material or spiritual. It is indeed the +two profiles confronting one another, our sympathy balanced, +and suspended, as it were, between them, which characterize our +recollections of this whole great field. The modern critics and +comparers of English and French drama are fond of contrasting +the full, rich, even prodigal characterization, rhetorical and +lyrical beauty of the Shakespearean drama with the cold, clear, +logical, but resistless movement of the French. Yet the contrast +is not quite that between characterization and form; the essential +form is common to both. In the first place, Elizabethan drama +was platform drama--that is, by the testimony of contemporaries, +little concerned with anything but the succession of more or less +unconnected scenes between two or three persons. And we see +clearly that the great dramatic power of "Hamlet," for instance, +must lie, not in the movement of a wavering purpose, but in the +separate scenes of his struggle, each one wonderfully rich, vivid, +balanced, but almost a unit in itself. On the theory that the +true dramatic form is logical progress, dramatic--as contrasted +with literary--power would have to be denied to "Hamlet." The +aesthetic meaning of "Lear" is not in the terrible retribution +of pride and self-will, but in the cruel confrontation of father +and daughters. + +This is no less true of the first great French plays. It is +certainly not the resistless movement of the intrigue which +makes the "Misanthrope," "Tartufe," the "Precieuses Ridicules," +masterpieces of comedy as well as of literature. Their dramatic +value lies in their piquancy of confrontation. The tug-of-war +between Alceste and Celimene, between Rodrigue and Chimene in +"Le Cid," is what we think of as dramatic; and it is this same +element which is found as well in the complicated and overflowing +English plays. And in modern French drama, for all its "logic," +the dominating factor is the "scene a faire,"--what I have called +the scene of confrontation. The notoriously successful scene in +the English drama of to-day, the duel of Sophy and Lord Quex-- +tolerably empty of real feeling or significance though it is-- +becomes successful merely through the consummate handling of +the face-to-face element. Only by admitting this aesthetic +moment of arrest can we allow dramatic value to such a play as +"Les Affaires sont les Affaires"--a truly static drama. The +hero of this is, in the words of a reviewer, "essentially the +same force in magnitude and direction from the rise to the fall +of the curtain. It does not move; it is we who are taken around +it so that we may see its various facets. It is not moulded by +the successive incidents of the play, but only disclosed by +them; sibi constat." Yet we cannot deny to the play dramatic +power; and the reason for this is, as I believe, because it +does, after all, possess the dramatic essential--not action, but +tension. + + +V + +It will be demanded, however, what place there is then for a +temporal factor, if the typical dramatic experience depends upon +the great scene? It cannot be denied that the drama is a work +of art developed in time, like music and poetry. It comes to a +climax and a resolution; it evolves its harmonies like the +symphony, in irrevocable order. We cannot afford to neglect, +in such an aesthetic analysis, what is an undoubted element in +dramatic effect, the so-called inevitable march of events. In +answer to this objection we may hold that the temporal factor +is a corollary of the primary demand for confrontation. It is +necessary that the confrontation or conflict should be vividly +imagined, with all possible associative reinforcements--that +it should be brought up to the turn of the screw, as it were. +For this, then, motivation is absolutely necessary. An attitude +is only clearly "realized" when it is made to seem inevitable. +It takes complete possession of our minds only when it inhibits +all other possibilities. At any given scene, the power of a +part to reproduce itself in us is measured by the convincing +quality given it by motivation, and for this there must be a +full body of associations to draw on, to round out and complete +understanding. The villain of the play is, for instance, less +completely "suggested" to us, because our associations are +supposedly less rich for such characters; as a beggar hypnotized +and made to feel himself a king has meagre mental equipment for +the part. Now, this inner possession can come about only +through the compelling force of a long course of preparation. +In providing such an accumulation of impulses, none was greater +than the younger Dumas--and none had to be greater! To make +his audience accept--that is, identify itself with--the action +of the hero in "Denise," or the mother's decision in "Les Idees +de Mms. Aubray," so subversive of general social feeling, and +thereby to experience fully the great dramatic moment in each +play, there had to go the effect of innumerable small impulses. +And to realize some situations is even beyond the scope of a +play's development. It is an acute remark of Mr. G.K. +Chesterton's, that many plays nowadays turn on problems of +marriage: which subject is one for slow years of adjustment, +patience, adaptation, endeavor; while the drama requires quick +decisions, bouleversements, etc., and would do wisely to +confine itself to fields in which such bouleversements can be +made credible. At any rate, motivation is desirable for the +dramatic confrontation, and time--the working-out--is an +essential condition of motivation. To make the dramatic +conflict ever sharper and deeper, until it either melts into +harmony, or ceases through the destruction of one element, is +the whole duty of the development, and makes it necessary. +That development is temporal, is, dramatically, only a device +for damming the flood that it may break at last with greater +force. + +This, too, is an answer to the objection that if confrontation +is the dramatic essential, bare opposition, because the clearest +confrontation, would be the greatest drama, and the "Suppliants" +of Euripedes be indeed an example of it. Bare opposition is +never real confrontation in our sense, for that must be an +arrest, a mutual antagonism of all impulses of soul and sense. +It must possess the whole man. It needs to take in "all +thoughts, all passions, all delights," to be complete, and the +measure of its completeness is the measure of its aesthetic +value. + +In the same way, the demand for profound truth and significance +in the drama is clearly to be reached from the purely dramatic +need. Inner "possession," the condition for our dramatic +tension, depends not alone on the cumulation of suggestions-- +suggestion in its, so to speak, quantitative aspect. The +attitude of a character must be necessary in itself: that is, +it must be true to the great and general laws of life. If it +is fundamentally false, even with the longest and completest +preparation, it rings hollow. We cannot completely enter +into it. Thus we see that the one central requirement, the +dramatic germ, leads to the most far-reaching demands for +logic, sanity, and morality in the ideas of a play. + +This should not be interpreted as exhausting the aesthetic +value of logic and morality in the drama. The drama is a +species of literature: and these qualities, apart from the +fact that they are necessary to the full dramatic moment, +have also an aesthetic effect proper to themselves. Thus +the development ha the beauty which lies in a necessary +progress; but this beauty is common to the epic, the novel, +and the symphony, while the unity given by the confrontation +and tension of simultaneous forces belongs to the drama alone. +It is therefore development as serving the dramatic end that +I have deduced. + +Yet we may well recall here the other aspect of the experience. +Analogous to the pleasure in rhythm and in music, in which the +awaited beat or tone slips, as it were, into a place already +prepared for it, with the satisfaction of harmonious nervous +adjustment, is the pleasure in an inevitable and irrevocable +progress. For it is not felt as inevitable unless the whole +crystallization of the situation makes such, and only such, +an action or thought necessary at a certain point in the +structure, makes it to a certain extent anticipated, and so +recognized with acclaim on its appearance. We will an event +in anticipating and accepting it; and we realize it as it +comes. Nothing more is to be found in the psychological +analysis of the will itself--theoretically, the two states +are nearly identical. Thus this continual anticipation and +"coming true" takes on the feeling-tone of all volition; and +so in music, as I have shown at length, and in drama, and to +a degree in all forms of literature, we have the illusion of +the triumphant will. This is the secret of that creative joy +felt by the spectator at a drama, which has been so often +noted. It is this illusion of the triumphant will, too, which +enters largely into our acceptance of the tragic end. Much +has been said, in the "dispute over tragedy," of the so-called +"Resignation" of the tragic hero, and of the audience in relation +to his fate. But I believe that these writers are wrong in +connecting this resignation primarily with a moral attitude. +What is foreseen as perfectly inevitable, is sufficiently +"accepted" in the psychological sense--that is, vividly imagined +and awaited,--to contribute to this illusion of volition. Hence +arise, for the catastrophe of drama, that exaltation and stern +joy which are indissolubly connected with the experience of +will in real life. + + +VI + +We have spoken of the dramatic, and have desired to show that +its peculiar aesthetic experience arises out of the tension or +balance of emotion in the confrontation of opposing forces. If +this is a fruitful theory, it should throw light on the +distinction between the different forms of the drama, and on +the principal issues of that "Dispute over Tragedy" which is +always with us. + +The possible results of a meeting of two forces are these. +Both forces, or one force, may be destroyed; or, short of +destruction, the two may melt into harmony, or one may give +way before the other. I think it may be said that these +alternatives represent the distinctions of Tragedy and Comedy. +When two aims are absolutely irreconcilable, and when the forces +tending to them are important,--that is, powerful,--there must +be somewhere destruction, and we have tragedy. When they are +reconcilable, if they are important, we have serious comedy; +when not important, or not envisaged as important, we have +light comedy. Thus Tragedy and Comedy are closely related,-- +more closely than we are prone to think. In the words of the +late Professor Everett, in "Poetry, Comedy, and Duty:" "The +tragic is, like the comic, simply the incongruous. The great +Tragedy of Nature, which is called the Struggle for Existence, +results simply from a greater or less incongruousness between +any form of life and its surroundings....The comic is found +in an incongruous relation considered merely as to its FORM, +while the tragic is found in an incongruous relation taken as +to its reality." For this word incongruity I would substitute +collision or conflict. When there is no way out, we have +Tragedy; when there is a way out, we have Comedy. And when +things are taken superficially enough, there always is a way +out, for we can at least always agree to disagree. In any case, +the end of the conflict is a period, repose, unity. This seems +to be borne out by immediate introspection. The feelings with +which we come from a great tragedy or a great comedy are indeed +almost identical. The excitement, tension, sunk into repose, +are common to both; the satisfaction with a good ending is +strangely paralleled by our resignation to a bad one,-- +significant of our real indifference to the fact, so long as +the Aesthetic Unity is reached. + +In George Meredith's wonderful little essay on the Comic Spirit, +this view is rather remarkably confirmed. He has defined +Comedy as the contrast of the middle way, the way of common +sense, with our human vagaries, "Comme un point fixe fait +remarquer l'emportement des autres." Comedy, he says, teaches +the world to understand what ails it...."Comedy is the fountain +of sound sense," and again, "the use of the true comedy is to +awaken thoughtful laughter." "Men's future upon earth does +not attract it; their honesty and shapeliness in the present +does; and whenever they wax out of proportion, overblown, +affected, pretentious, bombastical, hypocritical, pedantic, +fantastically delicate; whenever it sees them self-deceived or +hoodwinked, given to run riot in idolatries, drifting into +vanities, congregating in absurdities, planning shortsightedly, +plotting dementedly; whenever they are at variance with their +professions, and violate the unwritten but perceptible laws +binding them in consideration one to another; whenever they +offend sound reason, fair justice; are false in humility or +moved with conceit, individually or in the bulk--the Spirit +overhead will look humorously malign and cast an oblique light +on them, followed by volleys of silvery laughter. That is +the Comic Spirit." The Comic Spirit is the just common sense, +the subconscious wisdom of the ages. There IS a golden mean, +the Comic Spirit shows it to us in the light of our flashing +laughter at the deviation therefrom. And because there is, +even the unreconciled--reconcilable--difference or conflict +is not serious. That is why true Comedy seems to find its +best field in a developed social life. The incongruities of +human nature hurt is they are pressed too deep, because they +are irreconcilable; they too quickly edge the tragic gulf. +But the incongruities of the conventional life do not hurt +when pressed. To change our metaphor, adjustment to the +middle way is here so easily credible and possible, that it +is the very hunting-ground for the Comic Spirit. + +The reputed masterpiece of Moliere shows us Alceste and Celimene +in the end still at odds. But light-heartedness and sincerity +are not to common sense incompatible, and thus we are rightly +led up to the impasse by paths of laughter. Wherever the +middle way is divined, there is the possible entrance of the +Spirit of Comedy. It is certainly a detriment to the purely +Tragic effect of Pinero's greatest play, that the middle way, +the possibility of reconciliation, is shadowed forth in the +last word,--the cry of the stepdaughter of the Second Mrs. +Tanqueray, "If I had only been more merciful!" Dumas fils +would never have allowed that. He would have written his play +around that thought, and made it indeed a reconciling drama-- +or he would have suppressed the cry. The end of Romeo and +Juliet--date I confess it?--has always hovered for me close +to that border which is not sublime. For the hapless lovers +missed all for want of a little common sense. There was naught +inevitable in their plight. I see the Comic Spirit leaning +across to stay the hand of the impetuous Romeo. Why not take +a moment's sober thought? she murmurs. + +Tragedy ensues when there is no way out. It is not that ruin +or death for those in whom these forces are embodied is of the +essence of the situation; only that in the complete destruction +of a force or purpose when it has been embodied in a strong +desperate character, the death of that character is usually +involved. There is no solution but to cut the knot. The +tragic has been defined as "that quality of experience whereby, +in and through some serious collision, followed by fatal +catastrophe or inner ruin, something valuable in personality +becomes manifest, either as sublime or admirable in the hero, +or as triumph of an idea." But "Lear," "Macbeth," "Hamlet," +"Oedipus King," "Othello," exist to contravene this view. No, +the tragic (in its first sense, in the sense derived from the +dramatic form from which it is named) is in the collision +itself; it is the profound and, to our vision, the irreconcilable +antagonism of different elements in life. And in life we +accept it because we must; we transcend it because, as moral +beings, we may. The sublime in actual tragic experience is the +reaction of the unconquerable Soul. In tragic literature +another appears. We are helped in transcending the essential +contradictions of life presented to us, because the conditions +of literature in "preparing" an event create for us the illusion +of volition, the acceptance of fate. And in the tragic drama, +to all these elements of the complex experience, there is added +the exaltation of the aesthetic "arrest," the tension of +confrontations. + +The question of the "highest" or "most tragic" form of tragedy +seems to have been settled by general agreement. It has been +held that the tragic of the justified opposing force is the +more full of meaning and importance, for the reason that more +interesting and complex feelings are called into play on each +side than in the case of the unjustified opposing force. But +the definition of the tragic drama we have won seems further +to illuminate our undoubted preference for this type. We +demand aesthetically all that will make the confrontation, +the dramatic tension, more clearly felt; and we cannot realize +fully a side which should be unjustified. In such a play as +Maeterlinck's "Aglavaine and Selysette" there is no movement, +and even the conflict is subterranean; yet, as all the +characters are in their way noble, and in their way justified, +we find it among the most poignant of his plays. Nay, more, +in any situation the more nearly the conflict is shown to be +absolutely inevitable, arising out of the very nature of life +as we know it,--completely justified, or at least FELT as +inevitable on both sides,--the more are we shaken by the +distinctive tragic emotion. The conflict of duties to one's +self and to the world is the sharpest of tragedies. Luther, +as Freytag well shows, is a really tragic figure from the +moment when we conceive of the inner connection of his +intolerance with all that is good and great in his nature. +As the expression of such a conflict of impulses good in +themselves, "Magda" is a great tragedy than the "Joy of +Living;" "Ghosts" than "Hedda Gabler;" the story of "Francesca +Da Rimini" (I do not mean D'Annunzio's play) than "La Citta +Morta." + +What, then, shall be said of the so-called tragic "Guilt," in +which the hero rushes on impiously to his doom? It is clear +that this question is closely related to the much-debated +"Greatness" of the tragic hero. If there is guilt, there must +be also greatness, to impress that side of the canvas on our +vision. It is, indeed, almost a quantitative problem. +Strength, energy, depth of passion, breadth of vision, power +and place, ravish our attention and our unconscious imitation. +What is lacking in extensity of associative reproduction must +be added in intensity. And, in fact, we find that it is the +giants who bear the tragic "Schuld." Hamlet is not guilty; +rather "one like ourselves," in Aristotle's phrase, and +therefore he need not be great. I agree with Volkelt's view +that even the traditional tremendous will of the tragic hero +may be dispensed with. No doubt it is most often strength +of will which brings out the original conflict. But that +conflict once given, as it is given, for example, in "Hamlet," +the main point is to increase the weight of each side, which +can indeed be done by other elements of greatness. On the +other hand, I disagree with Volkelt's reason for thus +exempting will, which is, that the contrast feeling of "how +great a fall was there" may be given by other qualities in +the hero than that of will. As I have urged, it is not the +catastrophe which is of the tragic essence, and therefore +not for the sake of the catastrophe that we should marshal +our elements. The climax of tragedy and of our feeling is +in the deadlock of forces, and whatever is not absolutely +essential thereto may be done without. + + +VII + +The phenomenon of our aesthetic reaction on the so-called +painful experiences of the drama has then been discussed at +length and accounted for. There is an undoubted emotional +experience of great intensity; and yet that emotion turns +out to be not the emotion IN the drama, but rather the +emotion FROM the drama,--a unique independent emotion of +tension, otherwise a form of the characteristic aesthetic +emotion with which we have been before engaged. The playwright +who scornfully rejects the spectator supposed to be aesthetic, +ideally contemplative and emotionally indifferent, is +vindicated. There must be a vivid emotional effect, but it +is the spectator's very own, and not a copy of the hero's +emotion, because it is the product of the essential form of +the drama itself, the confrontation of forces. + +Secondly, that confrontation of forces has revealed itself +as indeed essential. This is not the time-honored view of +tragedy as collision, which has been arrived at simply by +observing that great tragic dramas are mostly collisions, +making the drama a picture thereof, but not explaining why +it must be such. I have tried, on the contrary, to show that confrontation is a necessary product of the bare form of +dramatic representation,--two people face to face. But if +this bare form or scheme of confrontation is understood and +interpreted as profoundly as possible, then all the other characteristics of the tragic drama are seen to flow from it; +and thus for the first time to be really explained by being +accounted for. The tragic drama not only is, but must be, +collision, because confrontation, understood as richly as +possible, must be collision. It must be "inevitable," and +it must have movement, because only so is the confrontation +reinforced. + +In brief, others have said that the drama, or tragedy, is +conflict, the perfect opposition of two forces. We should +rather say that the drama is first of all picture, living +representation of colloquy; as such, it is balance, +confrontation; and confrontation to its ideal degree of +intensity is conflict. No drama can dispense with picture; +and so no drama is free from the obligation to add unto itself +these other qualities also. The acting play is the play of +confrontations. + + + +VIII +THE BEAUTY OF IDEAS + +VIII +THE BEAUTY OF IDEAS + +I + +THE Idea of Beauty has been greatly widened since the age of +Plato. Then, it was only in order, proportion, unity in +variety, that beauty was admitted to consist; to-day we hold +that the moderns have caught a profounder beauty, the beauty +of meanings, and we make it matter for rejoicing that nothing +is too small, too strange, or too ugly to enter, through its +power of suggestion, the realm of the aesthetically valuable; +and that the definition of beauty should have been extended +to include, under the name of Romantic, Symbolic, Expressive, +or Ideal Beauty, all of the elements of aesthetic experience, +all that emotionally stirs us in representation. But while +this view is a natural development, it is not of necessity +unassailable; and it is open to question whether the addition +of an independent element of expression to the older definition +of beauty can be justified by its consequences for art. + +Such an inquiry, however, cannot stop with the relation of the +deeper meanings of modern art to the conception of beauty. It +must go further and find out what elements, the sensuous form +or the ideas that are bound up with it, in a work of art, of +the classical as well as of the idealistic type, really +constitute its aesthetic value. What is it that makes the +beauty of the "Venus of Milo"? Is it the pose and the modeling, +or the idea of the eternal feminine that it expresses to us? +What is it that makes the beauty of St. Mark's or of Giotto's +tower? the relation of the lines and masses or the sacred +significance of the edifices they go to form? What is it that +makes the beauty of the Ninth Symphony? the perfection of the +melodic sequence, or the Hymn of Joy, the message from the +Infinite which they are meant to utter? + +The antithesis between these two points of view is, of course, +not the same as that other antithesis between "art for art's +sake" and art in the light of its moral meanings and effects. +What we now call romantic or expressive art can certainly be +made the more fruitful in moral suggestions; but this fact +bears not at all on the question of what belongs fundamentally +to the nature of beauty. We know, moreover, that on this +matter the camps of the formalists and the romanticists are +divided. The Greeks, the lovers of formal beauty, were so +alive to the moral effects of art that their theories were in +danger of being quite overwhelmed by this view. On the other +hand, the lovers of ideas in art, the natural enemies, as one +would have thought, of art for art's sake, have been most often +impatient of any consideration of its moral elements or effects. +This second question, then, of art as pleasure or as moral +influence can be once for all excluded from the discussion. So +far as yet appears, the issue is between form and expression. + +There is, perhaps, some point of common agreement from which +to survey and distinguish more exactly these two diverging +tendencies. Such a coign of vantage is offered by the nature +of the aesthetic attitude,--for since Kant there has been among +aestheticians no essential difference of opinion on this point. +The aesthetic attitude, all agree, is disinterested. We care +for the image or appearance of the object, for the way its +form affects us, and not for the actual existence of the object +itself. If I delight aesthetically in a cluster of grapes, I +do not want to eat them, but only to enjoy their image, and my +feeling of pleasure, as aesthetic, would not be changed if +before me were only a mirage, an hallucination, or a picture. +It is just the pleasure in perception that appeals to me,-- +therein both schools agree,--and the only matter at issue is +the question of what this disinterested pleasure of perception +includes. Is that pleasure bound up with the mechanisms of +perception itself, or does it come from the end of the process +and the ease with which it is reached,--from the IDEA, in the +contemplation of which we delight? + +One school asserts that the real pleasure in perception comes +only from form. The given object is beautiful, through its +original qualities of line, color, or sound, which strike the +special senses in a way that is pleasing to them; and through +its combinations of these qualities, which affect the whole +human organism in a directly pleasurable way. What is outside +of the given object of art--is meant, suggested, or recalled +by it--belongs, it is said, to absolutely unaesthetic processes, +as is shown by the fact that many things, which we are the first +to acknowledge as ugly, are the exciting cause of great thoughts +and delightful associations. The opposed school maintains that +the meanings of a work of art are all that it exists for. The +presentation of an idea, by whatever sensuous means, so only +that they be transparent, and the joy of the soul in contemplating +this idea, must be the object and the end of art. The later +idealists admit value to the form only in so far a it may +express, convey, symbolize, or suggest the content, whether as +pure idea, or as a shadowing forth of the Divine World-Meaning. + +These theories are certainly intelligible; but the results of +applying them with logical consistency are rather terrifying. +Andrew Lang says somewhere that the logical consequence of the +formal theory of art in all its nakedness would make Tennyson +the youth, Swinburne, and Edgar Poe the greatest poets of the +world, and those delicious effusions of Edward Lear, "The +Jumblies" and "On the Coast of Coromandel," masterpieces. Yet +if we allow the idealists to pass sentence, what shall become +of our treasures in "Kubla Khan," or "Ueber allen Gipfeln," or +"La Nuit de Decembre"? The results of such a judgment day +would be even more appalling to the true lover of poetry. +Moreover, if the idea, the end of art, need not reside in the +object itself, but may arise therefrom by subtle suggestion, +the complications of poetry or painting are unnecessary. A +geometric figure may remind us of the constitution of the +world of space, a sundial, of the transitoriness of human +existence, and with a "chorus-ending from Euripedes," the whole +sweep of the cosmic meanings is upon us. In the words of Fra +Lippo Lippi:-- + + "Why, for this, + What need of art at all? A skull and bones, + Two bits of stick nailed crosswise, or what's best, + A bell to chime the hours with, does as well." + + +II + +In spite of this, however, a place for ideas must clearly be +found in our definition of beauty; and yet it must be so +limited and bound to the beautiful form that corollaries such +as we have just drawn will be impossible. An interesting +attempt to reconcile these two points of view--to establish +an organic relation between form and idea--is found in "The +Sense of Beauty" by Professor George Santayana. The central +point of this writer's theory is his definition of beauty as +the objectification of pleasure. Aesthetic experience, he +says, is based partly on form, partly on expression, but the +pleasure felt is always projected into the object, and is +felt as a quality of it. All kinds of external associations +may connect themselves with the work of art, but so long as +they remain external, and keep, so to speak, their values +for themselves, they cannot be said to add beauty to the +object. But when they are present only in their effect,-- +a diffused feeling of pleasure,--that diffused feeling is +attributed directly to the object, is felt as if it inheres +therein, and so the object becomes more beautiful, for beauty +is objectified pleasure. Professor Santayana designates form +as beauty in the first term, and expression as beauty in the +second term. Beauty in the first term can exist alone,--not +so beauty in the second term. It must have a little beauty +of the first term to graft itself upon. "A map, for instance, +is not usually thought of as an aesthetic object, and yet, +let the tints of it be a little subtle, let the lines be a +little delicate, and the masses of land and sea somewhat +balanced, and we really have a beautiful thing, the charm of +which consists almost entirely in its meaning. + +Now here, it seems to me, is a weak point in Professor +Santanaya's armor. If such wonderful elements of beauty can +be projected into a fairly colorless object by virtue of its +fringe of suggestiveness, why should not beauty of the second +term be felt in objects without that little bit of intrinsic +worth of form? Is not such indeed the fact? What else is +the meaning of the story of "Beauty and the Beast"? The squat +and hideous Indian idol, the scarabaeus, the bit of Aztec +pottery, become attractive and desired for themselves by virtue +of their halo of pleasure from dim associations. And all these +values are felt as completely OBJECTIFIED, and so fulfill the +requirements for "beauty in the second term." That small +amount of intrinsic beauty on which to graft the beauty of the +second term is, therefore, not a necessary condition, so that +we are left, on Professor Santayana's theory, with the strange +paradox of so-called beautiful objects which are, nevertheless, +confessedly ugly. + +What, then, is the flaw in this definition? While we concede +the objectification of pleasure in all these cases, we cannot, +it would seem, admit a corresponding change from non-aesthetic +to aesthetic feelings. The personal attitude towards an object, +based on sentiments objectified in it, and the aesthetic +attitude are two different things. The truth is, that all this +objectified tone-feeling is directly dependent on the original +real existence of the object that calls it up, and on our +practical personal relation to it, and is thus, by universal +agreement, definitely non-aesthetic. I enjoy the cast of the +great Venus very nearly as much as the original,--but who cares +for casts of the Aztec gods, or of the prehistoric carvings of +the reindeer period? Who wants an imitation scarabaeus? To +have the real thing, to see it, to touch it, to know that it +has had real experiences that would fill me with wonder and with +awe, "to love it for the danger it has passed,"--to feel that +I myself am through it actually linked with its mysterious +history,--that is the value it has for me; not a pleasure of +perception at all, but a very definite, practical interest in +my own personality. If the pleasure lay only in disinterested +perception, any representation of the object ought to have the +same value. + +What, then, the author of "The Sense of Beauty" calls "the +beauty of the second term,"--the power to suggest feeling +through the medium of associated ideas,--we may deny to impart +any aesthetic character whatever. Professor Santayana has, +indeed, mediated between the formalists and the idealists; +but his theory would lead us to attributions of beauty from +which common sense revolts; and we have seen the secret of its +deficiency to lie in the confusion of the personal with the +aesthetic attitude. If now we amend his definition, "Beauty +is objectified pleasure," to "Beauty is objectified aesthetic +pleasure," we are advanced no further. + + +III + +The problem stands, then: how to provide for the presence of +ideas in the work of art, and the definite emotions aroused by +it, either by bringing them somehow into the definition of beauty +in itself, or by showing how their presence is related to the +full aesthetic experience. But, first of all, we have to ask +how the aesthetic pleasure even in formal beauty is constituted, +and to what extent expression belongs to the beauty of pure +form. Form is impressive, or directly beautiful, through its +harmony with the conditions offered by our senses, primarily of +sight and hearing, and through the harmony of its combinations +of suggestions and impulses with the entire organism. I enjoy +a well-composed picture like Titian's "Sacred and Profane Love," +because the good composition means such a balanced relation of +impulses of attention, of incipient movements, as harmonizes +with such an organism as mine, tending to move toward both +sides, and yet unified and stable; and because the combination +of colors is at once stimulating and soothing to my eyes. So +much for IMPRESSION, beauty of the first term. But it is not +only that harmonious state of my visual and motor functions +that I get out of the form of a picture. No, I have, besides +all this pleasure, a real exhilaration or emotion, a definite +mood of repose or gayety or triumph, without any fringe of +association, which yet certainly contributes to my feeling of +the beauty of the experience, and so of the work of art. How +did it come out of the form? + +Well, this very harmonious excitation of the organism has +brought with it just such an organic reverberation as, the +current theory of emotion asserts, must be at the bottom of +all our emotional states. A certain sequence of nervous shocks +and of vasomotor changes, certain stimulations and relations +and contractions of the internal organs have been set up as the +"diffusive wave" from the sense-stimulations, and a particular +emotional tinge is the result. That is a direct impression, +but an expression too. Take the same case on a much lower +level. A glass of wine makes me cheerful, not because it +arouses cheerful ideas directly, but because the organic changes +it sets up are such as belong to the MOTIVATED expression of +joy, and have the same effect. A deep, slow movement played by +an orchestra can affect me in two ways. It may be that I have +usually connected that sort of music with religious experiences, +and all the profound and inspiring feelings belonging thereto; +and so I transfer those feelings to the music and give it those +adjectives. Or the slowness of the rhythmic pulse that is set +up in me, the largeness, the volume, the depth of sound, all +bring about in me the kind of nervous state that belongs to a +reposeful and yet deeply moved feeling. The second experience +is expression through impression, through the inward changes +that the form itself sets up. The first is expression through +the medium of something external,--an idea which brings with it +a feeling,--something that does not belong to the music itself, +but to my own individual experiences. + +This distinction between internal and external expressiveness +is perfectly clear for music, and also for architecture. In +painting, too, it can easily be traced. We know the effect +that is produced by broken lines, by upward moving ones,--like +the "always aspiring" of the Gothic cathedral. The low-lying, +wide expanses of some of the old Dutch landscapists give us +repose, not because they remind us of the peaceful happiness +of the land, but because we cannot melt ourselves into all +those horizontal lines without that restful feeling which +accompanies such relaxation; and our emotion is read into the +picture as AESTHETIC pleasure, because it came out of the +abstract forms,--the PAINTING in the picture. + +The beauty of form is thus seen to be inseparably allied with +a certain degree of emotional expressiveness in a way that +does not distract, like the association of ideas, from the +pure aesthetic experience. This quality of expressiveness +should not, however, become a part of the definition of beauty, +so that it should be said that the greater the emotional +expressiveness, the more beautiful the object. For if that +were true, such music, for instance, as all acknowledge quite +mediocre, would be felt as most beautiful by those who find in +it a strong and definite emotion; and a Strauss waltz, which +makes us more merry than one by Mendelssohn, should be in so +far more beautiful. This, of course, we are not ready to +concede; and it seems, therefore, most logical to regard the +special emotional effects of formal beauty rather as a corollary +to, than as a part of, the essential aesthetic mood. But if we +give the name emotion to that perfectly vague but unmistakable +excitement with which we respond to purely formal beauty,--that +indescribable exaltation with which we listen to "absolute" +music,--then we must say that that emotion is but another name +for aesthetic pleasure. Objectively, we have formal beauty; +subjectively, on the physiological side, a harmonious action +of the organism, and on the mental side the undefined exaltation +which is known as aesthetic pleasure. + + +IV + +Up to this point, however, we have considered only the relation +between purely formal beauty and the various shades of emotional +response to it; now we may turn to the original question which +we set ourselves, how to provide, in our definition of beauty, +for the presence of ideas in the work of art. No one will deny +that the full aesthetic experience cannot be dismissed with the +treatment of formal beauty; and, although Professor Santayana's +"beauty in the second term" may be rejected as a pure individual, +arbitrary, interested, and hence unaesthetic element, the +explicit content of a work of art cannot be ignored. The +suggested ideas aroused by an old rose garden may be no addition +to its beauty, but the same cannot be said of the great ideas +contained directly in Shakespeare's poetry. Yet great ideas +alone do not make great art, else we must count Aristotle and +Spinoza and Kant great poets too. Must we then be satisfied to +rest in the dualism of those who maintain that great creations +of art are the expression of great truths under the laws of +poetic form? Is the aesthetic expression indeed the recognition +of truth plus the feeling of beauty of form, or is it a fusion +of these into a third undivided pulse of aesthetic emotion? Is +there no way of overcoming, for those arts which do express +ideas, this dualism of form and content in our theory of the +beautiful? + +Let us analyze a little more closely this notion of the content. +Music and architecture cannot properly be said to have any +content, although they have a meaning according to their uses, +like a funeral dirge and a hymn of joy, a prison and a temple. +But this meaning is extraneous. It is given by the work itself +only in so far as the form induces the emotion which belongs to +the idea,--as the dirge, sadness; the temple, awe. The idea of +burial or of worship is nowhere to be found in the work of art. +In the hierarchy of arts, paining and sculpture show the first +trace of a content. This content, however, is at once seen to +be susceptible of farther analysis. The "Sistine Madonna" +pictures a mother and child worshiped, which may be called the +subject,--but this does not exhaust the content. The real +meaning of the picture, to which may be given the name of THEME, +is the divine element in maternal love. The subjects of +Donatello's "John the Baptist" and "Saint George," of Michael +Angelo's "David" and "Moses," can be described only as men of +Different types in different attitudes; their themes, however, +are moral ideas, expressing the moral significance of each +personality. The subject of "The Angelus" is given in its +name; its theme is humble piety. From the infinite number of +possible examples one more will suffice,--the well-known "War" +by Franz Stuck, in the Neue Pinacothek,--the subject a youth, +under a lurid sky, trampling under his horse's feet the bodies +of the slain. The theme is again a moral idea,--the horrors of +war. + +If we now ask whether we can attribute beauty to the ideas of +painting and sculpture, a negative answer is at once suggested. +It is manifestly impossible to establish an order of aesthetic +excellence between these subjects. The idea of peasants telling +their beads is more beautiful than the idea of a ruthless +destroyer only in so far as it is morally higher; and this +distinction, therefore, has reference to the theme and not to +the subject. How far, however, moral and aesthetic excellence +are coincident is a question for which we are not yet ready. +At this point we care only to point out that the mere idea of +a picture is neither aesthetic nor the reverse. + +But, it may be objected, is not our first thought in stopping +before a picture like the "War," "What a wonderful idea"? It +is the idea and not the form which strikes us, it may be said, +even though we may be quite unimpressed by the value of its +moral significance. Nevertheless, this view of our own mental +processes may be held to the illusory. What really strikes us +is the UNITY of the conception. The lurid sky, the dark, livid +faces of the dead--the whole color scheme, in short, is so +contrived as to impress directly, as previously explained, +without the medium of an idea, with that particular tinge of +emotional tone which ought to be also the accompaniment of the +idea of the horrors of war. The emotion is thus the enveloping +unity which binds the subject and theme and the pictorial form +together. In this sense, when we say, "What a wonderful idea!" +we really mean, what a wonderful fitness of form to idea,-- +which is the same as saying, what a wonderful form, or more +technically, what a wonderful unity. That part of the effect +of beauty in a picture which is due to the idea is thus the +fundamental but merely abstract element of unity, contributing +to the complex aesthetic state only the simplest condition. + +The case of literature presents an entirely new problem, for +the material of literature is itself, first of all, idea. +Literature deals with words, and words exist only by virtue of +their meanings. Even the sound of words is of importance +primarily for the additional meanings which it suggests, as the +word liquid first means a fluid substance, and then by its +sound suggests ease and smoothness, and only last of all is +noted as melodious. Thus since meanings, ideas, are the +material of literature, we can speak of the beauty of ideas +in literature only by an artificial sundering of elements that +are properly in fusion. Yet as we may speak of a motive or +musical idea and its working out, although strictly the idea +involves its own working out, so we may conceive of the central +thought of a literary work, and of its development. But the +relation here is not of content and form, like the content and +form of a picture; rather that of concentrated and diluted +form. So, too, as in music, we may distinguish form and +structure. Structure is offered to the intellect--it clears +and vivifies understanding; it is not felt, it is perceived. +Anything which is made up of parts--beginning, middle, and end, +climax and resolution--possesses structure. But form in the +intimate sense is the intrinsic, inevitable relation of cause +and effect; in this sense, it is seen to be truly content also. +In literature, as to structure, it is the relation of parts: +as to form, it is the succession of events, the movement, +combination and resolution of separate ideas and emotions, +which give us aesthetic pleasure or the reverse. As action +must follow excitement, or despair satiety, so the relation +of parts, the order of presentation, must be adapted to mutual +reinforcement. Thus the porter's scene in "Macbeth" is related +to the neighboring scenes, as De Quincey has shown in his famous +essay. And just as in music the feeling of "rightness" ensues +when the awaited note slips into place, so the feeling of +"rightness" comes when the inevitable consequences follow the +premise of a plot. + +The particular separate ideas of such a development partake of +beauty, then, in so far as they minister to the movement of the +whole, just as the separate lines in a swaying, swirling robe +of one of Botticelli's women minister to the whole conception. +The catastrophe, in other words, must be as inevitably related +to the sequence of ideas as the final chords of a symphony to +the sequence of notes. The attitude of mind with which we +welcome it is the same, whether on the plane of the responses +of the psychological organism or of the ideal understanding. + + +V + +But before finally relegating the idea to its place in the +aesthetic scheme, we must ask whether the specific emotional +content can claim independent aesthetic value; for we can +scarcely ignore the fact that almost all naive response to +literature, and indeed to all forms of art, is, or is believed +to be, specifically emotional. Maupassant, in his introduction +to "Pierre et Jean," distinguishes thus between the demand of +the critic--"Make me something fine according to your temperament," +--and the cry of the public--"Move me, terrify me, make we weep!" +And yet to the assertion of common sense that the desire of the +naive enjoyer of art is definite emotional excitement, we may +venture to oppose a negative. The average person who weeps at +the theatre, or over a novel, would no doubt repudiate the +suggestion that it is not primarily the emotion of terror, or +pity, that he feels. But a closer interpretation shows that +it is almost impossible to disengage, in such an experience, the +particular emotions. What is felt is rather pleasurable excitement, +pleasure raised to the pitch of exaltation, with a fringe of +emotional association. The notion of specific emotions is +illusory in the same sense that our notion of pleasure from +specific emotions in listening to music is illusory. The ordinary +descriptions of music are all couched in emotional or even +ideational terms,--from the musical adventures of "Charles +Auchester" down,--and yet we know, as Gurney says, that when, in +listening to music, we think we are yearning after the unutterable, +we are really yearning after the next note; and when we think it +is the yearning that gives us pleasure, it is really the triumphant +acceptance of the melodic rightness of that next note. So the +much-discussed Katharsis, or emotion of Tragedy, is not the +experience of emotions and pleasure in that experience, but +rather pleasure in the experience of ideas, tinged with emotion, +which belong to each other with precisely that musical rightness. +Katharsis is indeed not the mark of Tragedy alone, although in +Tragedy it has a very great relative intensity; it is ultimately +only a designation for the specific aesthetic pleasure, to which +I can give no better name than the oft-repeated one of triumphant +acquiescence in the rightness of relations. We think we feel a +situation directly, but what we really feel is pleasure in the +rightness of the manner of the event, and in the moment of perfect +experience it gives us. Such specific emotion as may be detected +in any aesthetic experience is, then, covered by the definition +of beauty only in so far as it has become form rather than content, +--is valuable only in its relations rather than in itself. The +experience of pity or fear, even though generalized, unselfish, +etc.,--after the various formulas of the expounders of dramatic +emotion,--does not impart aesthetic character of itself; it +becomes aesthetic only if it appears at such a point in the +tragedy, linked in such a way to the developing plot, that it +belongs to the unified and reciprocally harmonious circle of +experiences. + + +VI + +But we have up to this time consistently neglected the central +idea of the work of art, and its claim to be included in the +aesthetic formula. We have defined beauty as that which brings +about a state of harmonious completeness, of repose in activity, +in the psychophysical and psychological realms. This harmonious +repose can exist only with a disinterested attitude toward the +objects which have brought this state about. Whether the Melian +Venus or "Hamlet" or "Lohengrin" live, we care not; only that +if they live, it shall be SO. In this sense, our attitude is +interested, our will is active, but only toward the existence +of the form. But with the introduction of the central theme, we +cease to be disinterested,--our hypothetical is changed to an +affirmative. The moral idea we must accept or reject, for it +bears a direct relation to our personality. We will, or do not +will, that, in the real world in which we ourselves have to live +and struggle, certain forces shall be operative,--that there +shall be the beauty of health, as in the "Discobolus;" material +love which is divine, as in the "Sistine Madonna;" that war shall +be horrible; that sloth unstriven against shall triumph over +love, as in "The Statue and the Bust;" that defiance of the +social organism shall involve self-destruction, as in "Anna +Karenina." The person or the combination of events expressing +this idea we do not seek in our personal experience, but we do +demand for our own a world in which this idea rules. Thus it +must be admitted that there is, strictly speaking, at the core +of every aesthetic response to a work of art containing an idea, +a non-aesthetic element, an element of personal and interested +judgment. + +On the other hand, this affirmation or acceptance of a moral idea +implies the quietude of the will; just that state of harmony, of +repose, which we have found to be the mark of the aesthetic on +the lower planes of being. In so far, then, as we accept the +moral idea which a work of art presents, in so far that idea has +the power of bringing us to the state of harmony, and in so far +it is beautiful. And vice versa, works of art which leave us in +a state of moral rebellion are unbeautiful, not because they are +immoral, but because they are disturbing to the moral sense. +Literature which ignores the fundamental moral principle of the +freedom of the will, like the works of Flaubert, Maupassant, much +of Zola, Loti, and Thomas Hardy, fails of beauty, inasmuch as it +fails of the perfect reposeful harmony of human nature in its +entirety. + +Thus a thoroughgoing analysis of the nature of the aesthetic +experience in its simplest and most sensuous form has given us +a principle,--the principle of unity in harmonious functioning,-- +which has enabled us to follow the track of beauty into the more +complex realms of ideas and of moral attitudes, and to discover +that there also the law of internal relation and of fitness for +imitative response holds for all embodiments of beauty. That +harmonious, imitative response, the psychophysical state known +on its feeling side as aesthetic pleasure, we have seen to be, +first, a kind of physiological equilibrium, a "coexistence of +opposing impulses which heightens the sense of being while it +prevents action," like the impulses to movement corresponding +to geometrical symmetry; secondly, a psychological equilibrium, +in which the flow of ideas and impulses is a circle rounding +upon itself, all associations, emotions, expectations indissolubly +linked with the central thought and leading back only to it, and +proceeding in an irrevocable order, which it yet adapted to the +possibilities of human experience; and thirdly, a quietude of +the will, in the acceptance of the given moral attitude for the +whole scheme of life. Thus is given, in the fusion of these +three orders of mental life, the perfect moment of unity and +self-completeness. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext The Psychology of Beauty, by Ethel D. 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