would place that art which comes nearest to the art of speech and can
very naturally be united with it, viz. _the art of tone_. For although
it speaks by means of mere sensations without concepts, and so does
not, like poetry, leave anything over for reflection, it yet moves
the mind in a greater variety of ways and more intensely, although
only transitorily. It is, however, rather enjoyment than culture (the
play of thought that is incidentally excited by its means is merely
the effect of a kind of mechanical association); and in the judgement
of Reason it has less worth than any other of the beautiful arts.
Hence, like all enjoyment, it desires constant change, and does not
bear frequent repetition without producing weariness. Its charm, which
admits of universal communication, appears to rest on this, that every
expression of speech has in its context a tone appropriate to the
sense. This tone indicates more or less an affection of the speaker,
and produces it also in the hearer; which affection excites in its
turn in the hearer the Idea that is expressed in speech by the tone
in question. Thus as modulation is as it were a universal language of
sensations intelligible to every man, the art of tone employs it by
itself alone in its full force, viz. as a language of the affections,
and thus communicates universally according to the laws of association
the aesthetical Ideas naturally combined therewith. Now these
aesthetical Ideas are not concepts or determinate thoughts. Hence the
form of the composition of these sensations (harmony and melody) only
serves instead of the form of language, by means of their proportionate
accordance, to express the aesthetical Idea of a connected whole of an
unspeakable wealth of thought, corresponding to a certain theme which
produces the dominating affection in the piece. This can be brought
mathematically under certain rules, because it rests in the case of
tones on the relation between the number of vibrations of the air in
the same time, so far as these tones are combined simultaneously or
successively. To this mathematical form, although not represented by
determinate concepts, alone attaches the satisfaction that unites
the mere reflection upon such a number of concomitant or consecutive
sensations with this their play, as a condition of its beauty valid for
every man. It is this alone which permits Taste to claim in advance a
rightful authority over every one’s judgement.
But in the charm and mental movement produced by Music, Mathematic
has certainly not the slightest share. It is only the indispensable
condition (_conditio sine qua non_) of that proportion of the
impressions in their combination and in their alternation by which
it becomes possible to gather them together and prevent them from
destroying one another, and to harmonise them so as to produce a
continual movement and animation of the mind, by means of affections
consonant therewith, and thus a delightful personal enjoyment.
If, on the other hand, we estimate the worth of the Beautiful Arts
by the culture they supply to the mind, and take as a standard
the expansion of the faculties which must concur in the Judgement
for cognition, Music will have the lowest place among them (as
it has perhaps the highest among those arts which are valued for
their pleasantness), because it merely plays with sensations. The
formative arts are far before it in this point of view; for in putting
the Imagination in a free play, which is also accordant with the
Understanding, they at the same time carry on a serious business.
This they do by producing a product that serves for concepts as a
permanent self-commendatory vehicle for promoting their union with
sensibility and thus, as it were, the urbanity of the higher cognitive
powers. These two species of art take quite different courses; the
first proceeds from sensations to indeterminate Ideas, the second
from determinate Ideas to sensations. The latter produce _permanent_,
the former only _transitory_ impressions. The Imagination can recall
the one and entertain itself pleasantly therewith; but the other
either vanish entirely, or if they are recalled involuntarily by the
Imagination they are rather wearisome than pleasant.[93] Besides,
there attaches to Music a certain want of urbanity from the fact
that, chiefly from the character of its instruments, it extends its
influence further than is desired (in the neighbourhood), and so as it
were obtrudes itself, and does violence to the freedom of others who
are not of the musical company. The Arts which appeal to the eyes do
not do this; for we need only turn our eyes away, if we wish to avoid
being impressed. The case of music is almost like that of the delight
derived from a smell that diffuses itself widely. The man who pulls his
perfumed handkerchief out of his pocket attracts the attention of all
round him, even against their will, and he forces them, if they are to
breathe at all, to enjoy the scent; hence this habit has gone out of
fashion.[94]
Among the formative arts I would give the palm to painting; partly
because as the art of delineation it lies at the root of all the other
formative arts, and partly because it can penetrate much further
into the region of Ideas, and can extend the field of intuition in
conformity with them further than the others can.
§ 54. _Remark_
As we have often shown, there is an essential difference between _what
satisfies simply in the act of judging it_, and that which _gratifies_
(pleases in sensation). We cannot ascribe the latter to every one,
as we can the former. Gratification (the causes of which may even
be situate in Ideas) appears always to consist in a feeling of the
furtherance of the whole life of the man, and consequently, also of his
bodily well-being, _i.e._ his health; so that _Epicurus_, who gave out
that all gratification was at bottom bodily sensation, may, perhaps,
not have been wrong, but only misunderstood himself when he reckoned
intellectual and even practical satisfaction under gratification. If we
have this distinction in view we can explain how a gratification may
dissatisfy the man who sensibly feels it (_e.g._ the joy of a needy but
well-meaning man at becoming the heir of an affectionate but penurious
father); or how a deep grief may satisfy the person experiencing it
(the sorrow of a widow at the death of her excellent husband); or how
a gratification can in addition satisfy (as in the sciences that we
pursue); or how a grief (_e.g._ hatred, envy, revenge) can moreover
dissatisfy. The satisfaction or dissatisfaction here depends on Reason,
and is the same as _approbation_ or _disapprobation_; but gratification
and grief can only rest on the feeling or prospect of a possible (on
whatever grounds) _well-being_ or _its opposite_.
All changing free play of sensations (that have no design at their
basis) gratifies, because it promotes the feeling of health. In the
judgement of Reason we may or may not have any satisfaction in its
object or even in this gratification; and this latter may rise to the
height of an affection, although we take no interest in the object,
at least none that is proportionate to the degree of the affection.
We may subdivide this free play of sensations into the _play of
fortune_ [games of chance], the _play of tone_ [music], and the _play
of thought_ [wit]. The _first_ requires an _interest_, whether of
vanity or of selfishness; which, however, is not nearly so great as the
interest that attaches to the way in which we are striving to procure
it. The _second_ requires merely the change of _sensations_, all of
which have a relation to affection, though they have not the degree of
affection, and excite aesthetical Ideas. The _third_ springs merely
from the change of representations in the Judgement; by it, indeed, no
thought that brings an interest with it is produced, but yet the mind
is animated thereby.
How much gratification games must afford, without any necessity of
placing at their basis an interested design, all our evening parties
show; for hardly any of them can be carried on without a game. But the
affections of hope, fear, joy, wrath, scorn, are put in play by them,
alternating every moment; and they are so vivid that by them, as by
a kind of internal motion, all the vital processes of the body seem
to be promoted, as is shown by the mental vivacity excited by them,
although nothing is gained or learnt thereby. But as the beautiful does
not enter into games of chance, we will here set them aside. On the
other hand, music and that which excites laughter are two different
kinds of play with aesthetical Ideas, or with representations of the
Understanding through which ultimately nothing is thought; and yet
they can give lively gratification merely by their changes. Thus we
recognise pretty clearly that the animation in both cases is merely
bodily, although it is excited by Ideas of the mind; and that the
feeling of health produced by a motion of the intestines corresponding
to the play in question makes up that whole gratification of a gay
party, which is regarded as so refined and so spiritual. It is not the
judging the harmony in tones or sallies of wit,--which serves only
in combination with their beauty as a necessary vehicle,--but the
furtherance of the vital bodily processes, the affection that moves
the intestines and the diaphragm, in a word, the feeling of health
(which without such inducements one does not feel) that makes up the
gratification felt by us; so that we can thus reach the body through
the soul and use the latter as the physician of the former.
In music this play proceeds from bodily sensations to aesthetical Ideas
(the Objects of our affections), and then from these back again to the
body with redoubled force. In the case of jokes (the art of which,
just like music, should rather be reckoned as pleasant than beautiful)
the play begins with the thoughts which together occupy the body, so
far as they admit of sensible expression; and as the Understanding
stops suddenly short at this presentment, in which it does not find
what it expected, we feel the effect of this slackening in the body
by the oscillation of the organs, which promotes the restoration of
equilibrium and has a favourable influence upon health.
In everything that is to excite a lively convulsive laugh there must
be something absurd (in which the Understanding, therefore, can find
no satisfaction). _Laughter is an affection arising from the sudden
transformation of a strained expectation into nothing._[95] This
transformation, which is certainly not enjoyable by the Understanding,
yet indirectly gives it very active enjoyment for a moment. Therefore
its cause must consist in the influence of the representation upon the
body, and the reflex effect of this upon the mind; not, indeed, through
the representation being objectively an object of gratification[96]
(for how could a delusive expectation gratify?), but simply through it
as a mere play of representations bringing about an equilibrium of the
vital powers in the body.
Suppose this story to be told: An Indian at the table of an Englishman
in Surat, when he saw a bottle of ale opened and all the beer turned
into froth and overflowing, testified his great astonishment with many
exclamations. When the Englishman asked him, “What is there in this
to astonish you so much?” he answered, “I am not at all astonished
that it should flow out, but I do wonder how you ever got it in.” At
this story we laugh, and it gives us hearty pleasure; not because
we deem ourselves cleverer than this ignorant man, or because of
anything else in it that we note as satisfactory to the Understanding,
but because our expectation was strained [for a time] and then was
suddenly dissipated into nothing. Again: The heir of a rich relative
wished to arrange for an imposing funeral, but he lamented that he
could not properly succeed; “for” (said he) “the more money I give
my mourners to look sad, the more cheerful they look!”[97] When we
hear this story we laugh loud, and the reason is that an expectation
is suddenly transformed into nothing. We must note well that it
does not transform itself into the positive opposite of an expected
object--for then there would still be something, which might even be
a cause of grief--but it must be transformed into nothing. For if a
man arouses great expectations in us when telling a story, and at the
end we see its falsehood immediately, it displeases us; _e.g._ the
story of the people whose hair in consequence of great grief turned
gray in one night. But if a wag, to repair the effect of this story,
describes very circumstantially the grief of the merchant returning
from India to Europe with all his wealth in merchandise who was forced
to throw it overboard in a heavy storm, and who grieved thereat so
much that his _wig_ turned gray the same night--we laugh and it gives
us gratification. For we treat our own mistake in the case of an
object otherwise indifferent to us, or rather the Idea which we are
following out, as we treat a ball which we knock to and fro for a
time, though our only serious intention is to seize it and hold it
fast. It is not the mere rebuff of a liar or a simpleton that arouses
our gratification; for the latter story told with assumed seriousness
would set a whole company in a roar of laughter, while the former would
ordinarily not be regarded as worth attending to.
It is remarkable that in all such cases the jest must contain something
that is capable of deceiving for a moment. Hence, when the illusion is
dissipated, the mind turns back to try it once again, and thus through
a rapidly alternating tension and relaxation it is jerked back and
put into a state of oscillation. This, because the strain on the cord
as it were is suddenly (and not gradually) relaxed, must occasion a
mental movement, and an inner bodily movement harmonising therewith,
which continues involuntarily and fatigues, even while cheering us (the
effects of a motion conducive to health).
For if we admit that with all our thoughts is harmonically combined
a movement in the organs of the body, we shall easily comprehend how
to this sudden transposition of the mind, now to one now to another
standpoint in order to contemplate its object, may correspond an
alternating tension and relaxation of the elastic portions of our
intestines, which communicates itself to the diaphragm (like that which
ticklish people feel). In connexion with this the lungs expel the
air at rapidly succeeding intervals, and thus bring about a movement
beneficial to health; which alone, and not what precedes it in the
mind, is the proper cause of the gratification in a thought that at
bottom represents nothing.--_Voltaire_ said that heaven had given us
two things to counterbalance the many miseries of life, _hope_ and
_sleep_.[98] He could have added _laughter_, if the means of exciting
it in reasonable men were only as easily attainable, and the requisite
wit or originality of humour were not so rare, as the talent is common
of imagining things which _break one’s head_, as mystic dreamers do, or
which _break one’s neck_, as your genius does, or which _break one’s
heart_, as sentimental romance-writers (and even moralists of the same
kidney) do.
We may therefore, as it seems to me, readily concede to _Epicurus_
that all gratification, even that which is occasioned through concepts,
excited by aesthetical Ideas, is _animal_, _i.e._ bodily sensation;
without the least prejudice to the _spiritual_ feeling of respect for
moral Ideas, which is not gratification at all but an esteem for self
(for humanity in us), that raises us above the need of gratification,
and even without the slightest prejudice to the less noble [feeling] of
_taste_.
We find a combination of these two last in _naiveté_, which is the
breaking out of the sincerity originally natural to humanity in
opposition to that art of dissimulation which has become a second
nature. We laugh at the simplicity that does not understand how
to dissemble; and yet we are delighted with the simplicity of the
nature which thwarts that art. We look for the commonplace manner of
artificial utterance devised with foresight to make a fair show; and
behold! it is the unspoiled innocent nature which we do not expect to
find, and which he who displays it did not think of disclosing. That
the fair but false show which generally has so much influence upon
our judgement is here suddenly transformed into nothing, so that, as
it were, the rogue in us is laid bare, produces a movement of the
mind in two opposite directions, which gives a wholesome shock to the
body. But the fact that something infinitely better than all assumed
manner, viz. purity of disposition (or at least the tendency thereto),
is not quite extinguished yet in human nature, blends seriousness and
high esteem with this play of the Judgement. But because it is only
a transitory phenomenon and the veil of dissimulation is soon drawn
over it again, there is mingled therewith a compassion which is an
emotion of tenderness; this, as play, readily admits of combination
with a good-hearted laugh, and ordinarily is actually so combined, and
withal is wont to compensate him who supplies its material for the
embarrassment which results from not yet being wise after the manner
of men.--An art that is to be _naive_ is thus a contradiction; but the
representation of naiveté in a fictitious personage is quite possible,
and is a beautiful though a rare art. Naiveté must not be confounded
with open-hearted simplicity, which does not artificially spoil nature
solely because it does not understand the art of social intercourse.
The _humorous_ manner again may be classified as that which, as
exhilarating us, is near akin to the gratification that proceeds
from laughter; and belongs to the originality of spirit, but not to
the talent of beautiful art. _Humour_ in the good sense means the
talent of being able voluntarily to put oneself into a certain mental
disposition, in which everything is judged quite differently from the
ordinary method (reversed, in fact), and yet in accordance with certain
rational principles in such a frame of mind. He who is involuntarily
subject to such mutations is called _a man of humours_ [launisch]; but
he who can assume them voluntarily and purposively (on behalf of a
lively presentment brought about by the aid of a contrast that excites
a laugh)--he and his manner of speech are called _humorous_ [launigt].
This manner, however, belongs rather to pleasant than to beautiful art,
because the object of the latter must always exhibit intrinsic worth,
and hence requires a certain seriousness in the presentation, as taste
does in the act of judgement.
SECOND DIVISION
DIALECTIC OF THE AESTHETICAL JUDGEMENT
§ 55
A faculty of Judgement that is to be dialectical must in the
first place be rationalising, _i.e._ its judgements must claim
universality[99] and that _a priori_; for it is in the opposition of
such judgements that Dialectic consists. Hence the incompatibility of
aesthetical judgements of Sense (about the pleasant and the unpleasant)
is not dialectical. And again, the conflict between judgements of
Taste, so far as each man depends merely on his own taste, forms no
Dialectic of taste; because no one proposes to make his own judgement a
universal rule. There remains therefore no other concept of a Dialectic
which has to do with taste than that of a Dialectic of the _Critique_
of taste (not of taste itself) in respect of its _principles_; for
here concepts that contradict one another (as to the ground of
the possibility of judgements of taste in general) naturally and
unavoidably present themselves. The transcendental Critique of taste
will therefore contain a part which can bear the name of a Dialectic
of the aesthetical Judgement, only if and so far as there is found an
antinomy of the principles of this faculty which renders its conformity
to law, and consequently also its internal possibility, doubtful.
§ 56. _Representation of the antinomy of Taste_
The first commonplace of taste is contained in the proposition, with
which every tasteless person proposes to avoid blame: _every one has
his own taste_. That is as much as to say that the determining ground
of this judgement is merely subjective (gratification or grief), and
that the judgement has no right to the necessary assent of others.
The second commonplace invoked even by those who admit for judgements
of taste the right to speak with validity for every one is: _there
is no disputing about taste_. That is as much as to say that the
determining ground of a judgement of taste may indeed be objective, but
that it cannot be reduced to definite concepts, and that consequently
about the judgement itself nothing can be _decided_ by proofs, although
much may rightly be _contested_. For _contesting_ [quarrelling] and
_disputing_ [controversy] are doubtless the same in this, that by means
of the mutual opposition of judgements they seek to produce their
accordance; but different in that the latter hopes to bring this about
according to definite concepts as determining grounds, and consequently
assumes _objective concepts_ as grounds of the judgement. But where
this is regarded as impracticable, controversy is regarded as alike
impracticable.
We easily see that between these two commonplaces there is a
proposition wanting, which, though it has not passed into a proverb,
is yet familiar to every one, viz. _there may be a quarrel about
taste_ (although there can be no controversy). But this proposition
involves the contradictory of the former one. For wherever quarrelling
is permissible, there must be a hope of mutual reconciliation; and
consequently we can count on grounds of our judgement that have not
merely private validity, and therefore are not merely subjective. And
to this the proposition, _every one has his own taste_, is directly
opposed.
There emerges therefore in respect of the principle of taste the
following Antinomy:--
(1) _Thesis._ The judgement of taste is not based upon concepts; for
otherwise it would admit of controversy (would be determinable by
proofs).
(2) _Antithesis._ The judgement of taste is based on concepts; for
otherwise, despite its diversity, we could not quarrel about it (we
could not claim for our judgement the necessary assent of others).
§ 57. _Solution of the antinomy of Taste_
There is no possibility of removing the conflict between these
principles that underlie every judgement of taste (which are nothing
else than the two peculiarities of the judgement of taste exhibited
above in the Analytic), except by showing that the concept to which we
refer the Object in this kind of judgement is not taken in the same
sense in both maxims of the aesthetical Judgement. This twofold sense
or twofold point of view is necessary to our transcendental Judgement;
but also the illusion which arises from the confusion of one with the
other is natural and unavoidable.
The judgement of taste must refer to some concept; otherwise it could
make absolutely no claim to be necessarily valid for every one. But
it is not therefore capable of being proved _from_ a concept; because
a concept may be either determinable or in itself undetermined and
undeterminable. The concepts of the Understanding are of the former
kind; they are determinable through predicates of sensible intuition
which can correspond to them. But the transcendental rational concept
of the supersensible, which lies at the basis of all sensible
intuition, is of the latter kind, and therefore cannot be theoretically
determined further.
Now the judgement of taste is applied to objects of Sense, but not with
a view of determining a _concept_ of them for the Understanding; for
it is not a cognitive judgement. It is thus only a private judgement,
in which a singular representation intuitively perceived is referred
to the feeling of pleasure; and so far would be limited as regards its
validity to the individual judging. The object is _for me_ an object of
satisfaction; by others it may be regarded quite differently--every one
has his own taste.