I have shown in the previous letters that it is only the æsthetic
disposition of the soul that gives birth to liberty, it cannot therefore
be derived from liberty nor have a moral origin. It must be a gift of
nature; the favor of chance alone can break the bonds of the physical
state and bring the savage to duty. The germ of the beautiful will find
an equal difficulty in developing itself in countries where a severe
nature forbids man to enjoy himself, and in those where a prodigal
nature dispenses him from all effort; where the blunted senses
experience no want, and where violent desire can never be satisfied. The
delightful flower of the beautiful will never unfold itself in the case
of the Troglodyte hid in his cavern always alone, and never finding
humanity outside himself; nor among nomads, who, travelling in great
troops, only consist of a multitude, and have no individual humanity. It
will only flourish in places where man converses peacefully with himself
in his cottage, and with the whole race when he issues from it. In those
climates where a limpid ether opens the senses to the lightest
impression, whilst a life-giving warmth develops a luxuriant nature,
where even in the inanimate creation the sway of inert matter is
overthrown, and the victorious form ennobles even the most abject
natures; in this joyful state and fortunate zone, where activity alone
leads to enjoyment, and enjoyment to activity, from life itself issues a
holy harmony, and the laws of order develop life, a different result
takes place. When imagination incessantly escapes from reality, and does
not abandon the simplicity of nature in its wanderings: then and there
only the mind and the senses, the receptive force and the plastic force,
are developed in that happy equilibrium which is the soul of the
beautiful and the condition of humanity.
What phenomenon accompanies the initiation of the savage into humanity?
However far we look back into history the phenomenon is identical among
all people who have shaken off the slavery of the animal state: the love
of appearance, the inclination for dress and for games.
Extreme stupidity and extreme intelligence have a certain affinity in
only seeking the real and being completely insensible to mere
appearance. The former is only drawn forth by the immediate presence of
an object in the senses, and the second is reduced to a quiescent state
only by referring conceptions to the facts of experience. In short,
stupidity cannot rise above reality, nor the intelligence descend below
truth. Thus, in as far as the want of reality and attachment to the real
are only the consequence of a want and a defect, indifference to the
real and an interest taken in appearances are a real enlargement of
humanity and a decisive step towards culture. In the first place it is
the proof of an exterior liberty, for as long as necessity commands and
want solicits, the fancy is strictly chained down to the real: it is
only when want is satisfied that it develops without hinderance. But it
is also the proof of an internal liberty, because it reveals to us a
force which, independent of an external substratum, sets itself in
motion, and has sufficient energy to remove from itself the
solicitations of nature. The reality of things is effected by things,
the appearance of things is the work of man, and a soul that takes
pleasure in appearance does not take pleasure in what it receives but in
what it makes.
It is self-evident that I am speaking of æsthetical evidence different
from reality and truth, and not of logical appearance identical with
them. Therefore if it is liked it is because it is an appearance, and
not because it is held to be something better than it is: the first
principle alone is a play, whilst the second is a deception. To give a
value to the appearance of the first kind can never injure truth,
because it is never to be feared that it will supplant it—the only way
in which truth can be injured. To despise this appearance is to despise
in general all the fine arts of which it is the essence. Nevertheless,
it happens sometimes that the understanding carries its zeal for reality
as far as this intolerance, and strikes with a sentence of ostracism all
the arts relating to beauty in appearance, because it is only an
appearance. However, the intelligence only shows this vigorous spirit
when it calls to mind the affinity pointed out further back. I shall
find some day the occasion to treat specially of the limits of beauty in
its appearance.
It is nature herself which raises man from reality to appearance by
endowing him with two senses which only lead him to the knowledge of the
real through appearance. In the eye and the ear the organs of the senses
are already freed from the persecutions of nature, and the object with
which we are immediately in contact through the animal senses is remoter
from us. What we see by the eye differs from what we feel; for the
understanding to reach objects overleaps the light which separates us
from them. In truth, we are passive to an object: in sight and hearing
the object is a form we create. While still a savage, man only enjoys
through touch merely aided by sight and sound. He either does not rise
to perception through sight, or does not rest there. As soon as he
begins to enjoy through sight, vision has an independent value, he is
æsthetically free, and the instinct of play is developed.
The instinct of play likes appearance, and directly it is awakened it is
followed by the formal imitative instinct which treats appearance as an
independent thing. Directly man has come to distinguish the appearance
from the reality, the form from the body, he can separate, in fact he
has already done so. Thus the faculty of the art of imitation is given
with the faculty of form in general. The inclination that draws us to it
reposes on another tendency I have not to notice here. The exact period
when the æsthetic instinct, or that of art, develops, depends entirely
on the attraction that mere appearance has for men.
As every real existence proceeds from nature as a foreign power, whilst
every appearance comes in the first place from man as a percipient
subject, he only uses his absolute sight in separating semblance from
essence, and arranging according to subjective law. With an unbridled
liberty he can unite what nature has severed, provided he can imagine
his union, and he can separate what nature has united, provided this
separation can take place in his intelligence. Here nothing can be
sacred to him but his own law: the only condition imposed upon him is to
respect the border which separates his own sphere from the existence of
things or from the realm of nature.
This human right of ruling is exercised by man in the art of appearance;
and his success in extending the empire of the beautiful, and guarding
the frontiers of truth, will be in proportion with the strictness with
which he separates form from substance: for if he frees appearance from
reality, he must also do the converse.
But man possesses sovereign power only in the world of appearance, in
the unsubstantial realm of imagination, only by abstaining from giving
being to appearance in theory, and by giving it being in practice. It
follows that the poet transgresses his proper limits when he attributes
being to his ideal, and when he gives this ideal aim as a determined
existence. For he can only reach this result by exceeding his right as a
poet, that of encroaching by the ideal on the field of experience, and
by pretending to determine real existence in virtue of a simple
possibility, or else he renounces his right as a poet by letting
experience encroach on the sphere of the ideal, and by restricting
possibility to the conditions of reality.
It is only by being frank or disclaiming all reality, and by being
independent or doing without reality, that the appearance is æsthetical.
Directly it apes reality or needs reality for effect, it is nothing more
than a vile instrument for material ends, and can prove nothing for the
freedom of the mind. Moreover, the object in which we find beauty need
not be unreal if our judgment disregards this reality; for if it regards
this the judgment is no longer æsthetical. A beautiful woman, if living,
would no doubt please us as much and rather more than an equally
beautiful woman seen in painting; but what makes the former please men
is not her being an independent appearance; she no longer pleases the
pure æsthetic feeling. In the painting, life must only attract as an
appearance, and reality as an idea. But it is certain that to feel in a
living object only the pure appearance requires a greatly higher
æsthetic culture than to do without life in the appearance.
When the frank and independent appearance is found in man separately, or
in a whole people, it may be inferred they have mind, taste, and all
prerogatives connected with them. In this case the ideal will be seen to
govern real life, honor triumphing over fortune, thought over enjoyment,
the dream of immortality over a transitory existence.
In this case public opinion will no longer be feared, and an olive crown
will be more valued than a purple mantle. Impotence and perversity alone
have recourse to false and paltry semblance, and individuals as well as
nations who lend to reality the support of appearance, or to the
æsthetic appearance the support of reality, show their moral
unworthiness and their æsthetical impotence. Therefore, a short and
conclusive answer can be given to this question—how far will appearance
be permitted in the moral world? It will run thus in proportion as this
appearance will be æsthetical, that is, an appearance that does not try
to make up for reality, nor requires to be made up for by it. The
æsthetical appearance can never endanger the truth of morals: wherever
it seems to do so the appearance is not æsthetical. Only a stranger to
the fashionable world can take the polite assurances, which are only a
form, for proofs of affection, and say he has been deceived; but only a
clumsy fellow in good society calls in the aid of duplicity and flatters
to become amiable. The former lacks the pure sense for independent
appearance; therefore he can only give a value to appearance by truth.
The second lacks reality, and wishes to replace it by appearance.
Nothing is more common than to hear depreciators of the times utter
these paltry complaints—that all solidity has disappeared from the
world, and that essence is neglected for semblance. Though I feel by no
means called upon to defend this age against these reproaches, I must
say that the wide application of these criticisms shows that they attach
blame to the age, not only on the score of the false, but also of the
frank appearance. And even the exceptions they admit in favor of the
beautiful have for their object less the independent appearance than the
needy appearance. Not only do they attack the artificial coloring that
hides truth and replaces reality, but also the beneficent appearance
that fills a vacuum and clothes poverty; and they even attack the ideal
appearance that ennobles a vulgar reality. Their strict sense of truth
is rightly offended by the falsity of manners; unfortunately, they class
politeness in this category. It displeases them that the noisy and showy
so often eclipse true merit, but they are no less shocked that
appearance is also demanded from merit, and that a real substance does
not dispense with an agreeable form. They regret the cordiality, the
energy, and solidity of ancient times; they would restore with them
ancient coarseness, heaviness, and the old Gothic profusion. By
judgments of this kind they show an esteem for the matter itself
unworthy of humanity, which ought only to value the matter inasmuch as
it can receive a form and enlarge the empire of ideas. Accordingly, the
taste of the age need not much fear these criticisms if it can clear
itself before better judges. Our defect is not to grant a value to
æsthetic appearance (we do not do this enough): a severe judge of the
beautiful might rather reproach us with not having arrived at pure
appearance, with not having separated clearly enough existence from the
phenomenon, and thus established their limits. We shall deserve this
reproach so long as we cannot enjoy the beautiful in living nature
without desiring it; as long as we cannot admire the beautiful in the
imitative arts without having an end in view; as long as we do not grant
to imagination an absolute legislation of its own; and as long as we do
not inspire it with care for its dignity by the esteem we testify for
its works.