Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and
punctuation remains unchanged.
Italics are represented thus _italic_.
THE ORIGINS OF ART
[Illustration: Publisher’s monogram]
THE
ORIGINS OF ART
A PSYCHOLOGICAL & SOCIOLOGICAL
INQUIRY
BY
YRJÖ HIRN
LECTURER ON ÆSTHETIC AND MODERN LITERATURE AT THE
UNIVERSITY OF FINLAND, HELSINGFORS
London
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1900
_All rights reserved_
PREFACE
The aim and scope of this book is sufficiently indicated by its title.
I have endeavoured throughout to restrict my attention to questions
connected with the origins of art. Points of history and criticism have
been touched upon only in so far as they appeared to contribute towards
the elucidation of this purely psychological and sociological problem.
In order to save space as well as to spare the reader’s attention,
the descriptive parts have been concentrated as much as possible. As
a rule, only one ethnological example, which has been selected as
typical, is described in the text, while the corroborating examples
are represented by references in the footnotes. And even of these
references only such are adduced as have been considered especially
significant. Only in one matter have I aimed at completeness, viz.
that of reference to authors from whom I have borrowed facts or
observations. And whenever in earlier literature I have found theories
which have appeared similar to the views advanced in this book, these
similarities have been pointed out in the footnotes.
There is one point, however, to which the reader’s attention should
be called in this Preface. When treating of the art-impulse I
have—especially in the tenth chapter—mentioned in the footnotes some
modern writers on æsthetic, who, although starting from different
assumptions, have arrived at a conception of art which in many points
may be compared to the one advanced in this book. This comparison,
however, has not been carried out in the text. Considerations of
space account for this omission; but it has a further ground in the
circumstances under which the present work has originated. A part of
it, containing the examination of feeling and its expression, and the
chapter on “Animal Display,” was published in Swedish as early as
1896[1]—that is, before the above-mentioned authors had made their
theories known. This is not mentioned in order to raise any futile
questions of priority, but only as a justification of the way in which
my conclusions have been presented.
It has appeared to me that the continuity of the argument could not
but have been broken if, instead of proceeding from my original
starting-point, I had based my conclusions upon a critical examination
of modern æsthetic doctrines. And I trust that the differences between
the thesis of this book and other emotionalistic explanations will
appear with sufficient clearness to the attentive reader even if they
have not been expressly pointed out in the text.
There are, no doubt, many points, a fuller treatment of which might
have been to the advantage of the book. The force of circumstances
has compelled me to aim at brevity before anything. But even if it
had been possible to give this study a far greater comprehensiveness,
the difficulties of expressing myself in a foreign tongue would have
withheld me from any avoidable amplification. I have constantly been
conscious of my audacity in appearing before the English public without
sufficiently mastering the English language, and I have been anxious
not to make my offence greater by any number of pages than it already
is.
That it has been possible at all to publish this research in English
is only a result of the kind assistance which I have received from my
English friends. I am indebted to Mr. G. G. Berry in Oxford, and Mr.
Leonard Pomeroy in London, who have revised parts of the manuscript.
And I am further indebted to my publishers for procuring me the
assistance of Mr. Stephen Gwynn in preparing the book for the press.
He has helped me to avoid needlessly technical expressions, and in
other ways has given the work a more readable style. But he has not
restricted himself to these emendations. He has assisted me with
valuable suggestions as well as with information. The improvement
which the work has derived from his collaboration can be sufficiently
appreciated only by its author.
In purely scientific matters I have benefited much from discussions
with students of psychology and sociology in my own country as well as
in England. My thanks are due to all of them, but especially to my old
friends, Dr. Edward Westermarck and Dr. Richard Wallaschek.
The “List of Authorities quoted” and the Indexes have been compiled
by my wife. This is, however, only the least important part of the
assistance which throughout the book has been rendered to me by the
constant collaborator in all my researches.
Y. H.
HELSINGFORS, _August 1900_.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
THE PROBLEM STATED 1
CHAPTER II
THE ART-IMPULSE 18
CHAPTER III
THE FEELING-TONE OF SENSATION 30
CHAPTER IV
THE EMOTIONS 43
CHAPTER V
THE ENJOYMENT OF PAIN 56
CHAPTER VI
SOCIAL EXPRESSION 72
CHAPTER VII
DEDUCTION OF ART-FORMS 86
CHAPTER VIII
ART THE RELIEVER 102
CHAPTER IX
THE WORK OF ART 111
CHAPTER X
OBJECTIONS AND ANSWERS 134
CHAPTER XI
THE CONCRETE ORIGINS OF ART 143
CHAPTER XII
ART AND INFORMATION 149
CHAPTER XIII
HISTORICAL ART 164
CHAPTER XIV
ANIMAL DISPLAY 186
CHAPTER XV
ART AND SEXUAL SELECTION 203
CHAPTER XVI
THE ORIGINS OF SELF-DECORATION 214
CHAPTER XVII
EROTIC ART 228
CHAPTER XVIII
ART AND WORK 249
CHAPTER XIX
ART AND WAR 261
CHAPTER XX
ART AND MAGIC 278
CHAPTER XXI
CONCLUSIONS 298
LIST OF AUTHORITIES QUOTED 307
INDEX OF AUTHORS 323
INDEX OF SUBJECTS 328
CHAPTER I
THE PROBLEM STATED
When, one hundred and fifty years ago, Baumgarten wrote the treatise
to which he gave the name _Aesthetica_, and which he described as a
“theory of liberal arts and beautiful thinking,” it seemed to him
needful to apologise for attracting attention to a field of inquiry
so low and sensuous as that province of philosophy to which he then
affixed a name. Many, he thought, might regard art and beauty, which
appeal primarily to the senses, as subjects beneath the dignity of
philosophers.[2] Yet the theories and the ideas which were first
brought together as an organised body of thought in Baumgarten’s short
manual had so deeply influenced the speculations of his age that, a
generation later, the most important questions of life came to be
treated as æsthetic problems. The philosophy of art, far from needing
to justify its existence, dominated all philosophy—ethics, metaphysics,
and even cosmogony. Imagination was treated as the ruling faculty in
all creation, and beauty was referred to as the criterion, not only
in art, but in morality. Yet the importance thus given to æsthetic
speculation was transitory, and the period during which philosophers
were concerned, not only to find a general criterion of beauty for
the arts, but also to apply that criterion far beyond the sphere of
art, has been succeeded by an age which neglects speculation on art and
beauty for other tasks which are regarded as far more important. Such
rapid changes within a few generations appear almost incomprehensible.
But they can easily be explained if we take into account the intimate
connection which always exists between æsthetic speculation and
prevailing currents of thought.
In Mr. Bosanquet’s _History of Æsthetic_ it has been pointed out with
great clearness to what extent the earlier prosperity of æsthetic
studies was caused by the general philosophical situation. The theory
of æsthetic, as set forth in Baumgarten’s chapter on _cognitio
sensitiva_, and further developed in Kant’s _Kritik der Urtheilskraft_,
dealt, as is well known, with a form of judgment which is neither
purely rational nor purely sensual.[3] In metaphysics, for philosophers
who had to struggle with what seemed to them an irreconcilable
opposition between reason and the senses, this conception of a
mediative faculty must have satisfied a most urgent need. Similarly we
may suppose that the ethical observer felt himself emancipated from the
narrow antagonism between body and spirit by looking at our actions in
the æsthetic way. In proportion, however, as general science has been
able to do away with the old dualism of higher and lower faculties, the
judgment of taste has necessarily lost importance. In the development
of monistic philosophy and monistic morals we may thus see one
important factor, by the influence of which æsthetic has been ousted
from its central position.
The evolution of modern art has been still more injurious to æsthetic
speculation than the progress of science. In the palmy days of
art-philosophy conditions were eminently favourable to universal
generalisations. The great periods of art, classical antiquity and the
Renaissance, were so remote that only their simplest and most salient
features were discerned. Nor did the art of the period exhibit the
bewildering multiplicity of a fertile age,—least of all in Germany,
the home and centre of æsthetic inquiry. The formative arts were
less important than ever before; music, which was so soon to eclipse
all other arts, had not yet awakened the interest of philosophers.
The crafts were at a low ebb; landscape-gardening is indeed the only
kind of applied art that we hear about at this time. Beauty, art, the
ideal—these and all other general notions must have been suggested
with unsurpassable simplicity by this uniform and monotonous artistic
output. It is easy to understand the eagerness and the delight with
which the earlier writers on æsthetic, once the impulse given, drew
conclusions, made comparisons, and laid down laws. But it is equally
evident that speculative zeal was bound to fall off as soon as the
province of art was enlarged and its products differentiated.
Even the more intimate knowledge of classical culture which was
subsequently gained, necessitated important corrections in æsthetic
dogmas. The artistic activities of savage tribes, which have been
practically unknown to æsthetic writers until recent years, display
many features that cannot be harmonised with the general laws. And in
a yet higher degree contemporary art defies the generalisations of a
uniform theory. With greater mastery over materials and technique, the
different arts have been able to produce more and more specialised
forms of beauty. The painter’s ideal can no longer be confused with
that of the poet or the story-teller, nor the sculptor’s with that
of the actor. Pure music, pure poetry, pure painting, thus develop
into isolated, independent arts, of which each one establishes its
own laws and conditions for itself. The critic who, in spite of this
evolution, tries to apply a narrow æsthetic standard of beauty to
all the various arts may indeed—according to his influence—delay
the public appreciation of modern works, and thus indirectly impede
artistic development. But no amount of theorising will enable him to
arrest the growth of artistic forms whose very existence contradicts
the generalisations of the old systems. And he is equally powerless to
stop such violations of the supposed frontiers of the different arts
as continually occur, for instance, in descriptive music, or in poetry
like that of Gautier, which aims at producing a pictorial impression by
means of words.
It is only natural that, in times so inopportune, general speculations
on art and beauty have been more and more abandoned in favour of
detailed studies in the technicalities of art, historical researches
in which works of art are considered chiefly as documents bearing on
culture, and experiments on the physiology and psychology of æsthetic
perception. For art itself and its development it would perhaps be
unimportant if a science which has never exercised any great positive
and direct influence on artistic production should completely
disappear. But from the theoretical point of view it would be matter
for regret if artistic activities ceased to be considered as a whole.
And so also would it be if æsthetic feelings, judgments of taste,
and ideals of beauty came to be treated only in appendices to works
on psychology. It is true that all these notions have irremediably
lost their former metaphysical and philosophical importance. But in
compensation, art and beauty have for modern thinking acquired a
social and psychological significance. To determine the part which the
production and the enjoyment of works of art play in their relation to
the other factors of individual and social life—that is indeed a task
which is momentous enough to be treated in a science of its own. Modern
æsthetic, therefore, has still its own ends, which, if not so ambitious
as those of the former speculative science of beauty, are nevertheless
of no small importance. These ends, however, can no longer be attained
by the procedure of the old æsthetic systems. As the problems have
changed with changing conditions, so too the methods must be brought
into line with the general scientific development. Historical and
psychological investigation must replace the dialectic treatment of the
subject. Art can no longer be deduced from general, philosophical, and
metaphysical principles; it must be studied—by the methods of inductive
psychology—as a human activity. Beauty cannot be considered as a
semi-transcendental reality; it must be interpreted as an object of
human longing and a source of human enjoyment. In æsthetic proper, as
well as in the philosophy of art, every research must start, not from
theoretical assumptions, but from the psychological and sociological
data of the æsthetic life.
Such a procedure, however, is encumbered with difficulties, of which
the writers on speculative æsthetic were scarcely aware. When theories
of art and beauty were based on general _a priori_ principles, there
could not possibly be any doubt as to the point of departure in the
several researches. But when we have no assumptions to start from, the
very demarcation of the subject may become a matter of uncertainty.
In the philosophy of art, to which department of æsthetic I wish
to restrict my researches in the present work, this difficulty of
formulating the data and _quæsita_—the facts which we have to go upon,
and the facts which we wish to find out—constitutes the first, and by
no means the least important, problem.
If we are to embark upon a scientific treatment of art without any
preconceived definitions, the aim and conditions of such treatment
can only be determined by examining the prevailing notions on the
subject, as they are expressed in language and in literature. As an
interpretation for general use and of general applicability, a theory
of art can claim attention only if it conforms to the recognised
usage of the principal æsthetic terms. In the various definitions of
art which are contained in the different æsthetic systems, we must
therefore try to find some point of unity from which to approach our
subject. The difficulties of such a task are evident to any one who
has gone through the discouraging experience of reading a history of
æsthetic. The investigator who seeks an accurate demarcation of the
whole area of art, as distinguished from other departments of life,
meets with partial definitions which can be applied only to certain
fixed forms of art. We need mention but a few of the most typical
instances. Even an ardent admirer of Taine is compelled to admit that
his generalisations are too exclusively derived from the study of
poetry and the formative arts. In the same way it is only by laborious
adjustments that the theory of Vischer can be applied to music and
lyric poetry; the aphorisms of Ruskin do not even pretend to apply to
any but the formative arts; and Mr. Marshall’s _Æsthetic Principles_—to
adduce one of the most recent attempts in general art-theory—are too
obviously those of an expert in architecture. In none of the modern
systems has sufficient room been made for certain forms of art which,
from the evolutionist’s standpoint, are of the highest importance: such
as acting, dancing, and decoration. All the one-sided definitions are,
moreover, so inconsistent with each other that it seems impossible to
make up for their individual deficiencies by an eclectic combination.
It is not to be wondered at, therefore, if some writers on art,
confused by the bewildering contradictions of æsthetic theories, have
called in question the very existence of any universal art-criterion.[4]
Those who adopt this attitude—which seems the more justified now that
the arts have become widely differentiated—deny the possibility, not
only of all general art-philosophy, but also of any sociological and
psychological treatment of artistic activities as a whole. But even if
all other hypotheses are banished, æsthetic research cannot possibly
dispense with the fundamental assumption of the unity of art. And in
point of fact there can be found in most systems, if we do not insist
on too minute and positive demarcations, at least one common quality
which is ascribed to all its different forms. Notwithstanding the
mutual contradictions of art-theories, the believers in a general
æsthetic can always appeal to the consent with which the majority of
authors have upheld the negative criterion of art. Metaphysicians as
well as psychologists, Hegelians as well as Darwinians, all agree in
declaring that a work, or performance, which can be proved to serve any
utilitarian, non-æsthetic object must not be considered as a genuine
work of art. True art has its one end in itself, and rejects every
extraneous purpose: that is the doctrine which, with more or less
explicitness, has been stated by Kant,[5] Schiller,[6] Spencer,[7]
Hennequin,[8] Grosse,[9] Grant Allen,[10] and others. And popular
opinion agrees in this respect with the conclusions of science. This
distinctive quality of independence seems therefore to afford us a
convenient starting-point for the treatment of art in general.
Owing to its negative character, this criterion does not give us much
information as to the real qualities of art. But even the poorest
definition is enough to begin with, if it only holds good with regard
to all particular cases. Unfortunately, however, we need only apply
the test of independence in the concrete instance to find that even
the applicability of this single accepted criterion may be seriously
disputed. There is scarcely any author, however he may formulate his
general definitions of art, who would assess the relative value of
art-works according to their degrees of disinterestedness. No candid
man would, for instance, nowadays contend that an arabesque composition
is _per se_ more æsthetically pure than a statue or a poem.[11] But
we may even go farther. We must question whether every work of art
ought to be degraded from its æsthetic rank, if it can be convicted of
having served any external utilitarian purpose. This strict conception
of the æsthetic boundaries has been eloquently attacked by Guyau in
his celebrated treatise, _Le principe de l’art et de la poésie_.[12]
Though the ultimate conclusions of this work are perhaps not so clear
as might be desired, yet we do not see how his attitude in estimating
concrete manifestations of art can be assailed. It would, to take an
example, be absurd to contend that the singing of Taillefer lost in
æsthetic value by contributing to the victory of Hastings. And however
strictly we may insist upon the requirement that every genuine work
of art should have been created purely for its own sake, we cannot
possibly conceal the fact that some of the world’s finest love lyrics
were originally composed, not in æsthetic freedom, which is independent
of all by-purposes, but with the express end of gaining the ear and
the favour of a beloved woman. The influence which such foreign,
non-æsthetic motives have exercised on art will also become more and
more apparent with increased knowledge of the conditions of æsthetic
production. The further the psychological biographer pushes his
indiscreet researches into the private life of individual artists, the
more often will he find that some form of interest—personal, political,
ethical, religious—enters into the so-called disinterested æsthetic
activity. Such instances must induce undogmatic authors to relax to
some extent the strict application of this criterion. And even those
philosophers who, in spite of the historical evidence, insist upon
applying it will be compelled to admit that they have taken for works
of genuine art productions which, from their philosophic standpoint,
have no claim to the title.
The danger of such mistakes is all the greater when one has to deal
with the lower stages of artistic development. In point of fact recent
ethnological researches have conclusively proved that it is not only
difficult, but quite impossible, to apply the criterion of æsthetic
independence to the productions of savage and barbarous tribes. It is
true that the large province of primitive art has not as yet in its
entirety been made the subject of systematic study. But, on the other
hand, the results which have been arrived at with regard to decoration,
its most typical form, amply bear out our view. In almost every case
where the ornaments of a tribe have been closely examined, it has
appeared that what to us seems a mere embellishment is for the natives
in question full of practical, non-æsthetic significance. Carvings on
weapons and implements, tattooings, woven and plaited patterns, all
of which the uncritical observer is apt to take for purely artistic
compositions, are now explained as religious symbols, owners’ marks,
or ideograms. There is still room for discussion as to whether in
certain individual interpretations the tendency to look for concealed
meanings has not been carried too far. But there can be no doubt that
the general principles which to many students seemed so fantastic
when first formulated by Stolpe, Read,[13] and others, have derived
additional support from every fresh inquiry into primitive systems of
decoration.
The isolated researches which have been carried on within the
department of primitive literature and drama all point in the same
direction. Wherever ethnologists have the opportunity of gaining some
insight into the inner life of a savage tribe, they are surprised at
the religious or magical significance which lies concealed behind
the most apparently trivial of amusements. And it is to be remarked
that they have learned to appreciate this esoteric meaning, not by a
closer study of the manifestations themselves, but through information
acquired by intercourse with the natives. There is often not a single
feature in a savage dance which would give the uninitiated any reason
to suspect the non-æsthetic purpose. When North American Indians,
Kaffirs, or Negroes perform a dance in which all the movements of the
animals they hunt are imitated, we unavoidably see in their antics an
instance of primitive but still purely artistic drama. It is only from
the descriptions of Catlin, Lichtenstein, and Reade[14] that we learn
that these pantomimes have in reality quite as practical a purpose
as those imitations and representations of animals by which hunters
all over the world try to entice their game within shooting distance.
According to the doctrine of sympathetic magic, it is simply an
axiomatic truth that the copy of a thing may at any distance influence
the thing itself, and that thus a buffalo dance, even when it is
performed in the camp, may compel the buffaloes to come within range of
the hunters. But the deceptive appearance of disinterestedness, which
in these cases might have led one to mistake a mere piece of hunting
magic for a specimen of pure dramatic art, is apt to make us cautious
about accepting as independently æsthetic any performance of primitive
man.
In the songs and dances by which savages exhort themselves to work and
regulate their exertions we find an aspect of utilitarian advantage
which is real and not imaginary. Evidently also this advantage,
and not any independent æsthetic pleasure, is—intentionally or
unintentionally—aimed at in the war-pantomimes, the boating songs,
dances, etc. And it is no doubt for this reason that music and dance
have attained so surprising a development in the lower stages of
culture. In trying, therefore, to explain the historical development of
art, we are compelled to take into account that foreign purpose which
is repudiated in art-theory.
If every work of art were really an end in itself—a
_Selbstzweck_—standing quite isolated from all the practical utilities
of life, it would be nothing less than a miracle that art should be
met with in tribes which have not yet learnt to satisfy, nor even to
feel, the most elementary necessities of life. In such a case it is
not music only which would, as Wallace thinks, have to be explained
by supernatural causes:[15] primitive art in all its departments
would baffle our attempts at rational interpretation. By studying,
however, the artistic activities of savage and barbarous man in their
connection with his non-æsthetic life, writers on evolutionary æsthetic
have succeeded in solving this great crux of art-history. The dances,
poems, and even the formative arts of the lower tribes possess indeed,
as every ethnologist will admit, unquestionable æsthetic value.
But this art is seldom free and disinterested; it has generally a
usefulness—real or supposed—and is often even a necessity of life.[16]
A historical conception of art is thus, it appears, incompatible with
a strict maintenance of the æsthetic criterion. But it may still be
asked whether we are therefore compelled to join Guyau in abolishing
all distinctions between art and other manifestations of human
energy.[17] By doing away with the only definition which is common
to the majority of æsthetic systems, we should dissociate ourselves
from all previous views on art. And it seems hard to believe that all
dogmatic writers on æsthetic, one-sided as they may often seem, have
founded their theories on a pure fiction. The independent æsthetic
activity, which simply aims at its own satisfaction, cannot have been
invented for the sake of the systems. The mere fact that so many
theories have been proposed for its explanation furnishes, it seems to
us, a sufficient proof that the conception of this activity corresponds
to some psychological reality. Certainly the “end in itself” has not
played so important a part in the practice of artists as writers on
æsthetic would have us believe; and it is impossible to distinguish
its effects in concrete individual instances. But from all we know
of the life and work of artists, there appears to be a tendency—more
or less consciously followed, it is true, in different cases—to make
the work its own end. And in the public we can in the same way notice
an inclination—which grows with increasing culture—to regard art
as something which exists for its own sake, and to contemplate its
manifestations with independent æsthetic attention. Whatever we may
think about the genesis of particular pictures and poems, we know that
at least they need no utilitarian, non-æsthetic justification in order
to be appreciated by us. And with as much assurance as we can ever
feel in comparative psychology we may take it for granted that the
same way of looking at art has prevailed in other stages of culture
as well. However cautious one may be in drawing conclusions from
analogies between higher and lower forms, a closer study of primitive
art must needs compel every one to admit that these dances, poems, and
ornaments, even if they originally served practical, religious, or
political aims, may at least have come by degrees to be enjoyed in the
same way as we enjoy our art. By denying such subjective independence
in the creation and enjoyment of art, we should be no less guilty
of one-sidedness than those authors who deny that genuine art has
ever been influenced by “foreign purposes.” If it is presumptuous to
adduce any particular works or manifestations in proof of free and
independent production, it may be no less audacious to contend that
even the most primitive form of art has flourished in tribes destitute
of all æsthetic cravings. There is room for discussion on the degree
of influence which “autotelic”[18] artistic activity has exercised in
particular works and manifestations. It may also be made an object of
research to determine at which precise stage of development æsthetic
attention becomes so emancipated as to entitle us to speak of a pure
and free art-life. But it does not seem that such inquiries can ever
lead to any positive result. The more one studies art, especially
primitive art, from a comparative and historical point of view, the
more one is compelled to admit the impossibility of deciding where
the non-æsthetic motives end and the æsthetic motives begin. The only
result we can reach is the somewhat indefinite one that it is as
impossible to explain away the artistic purpose as it is to detect its
presence in a pure state in any concrete work of art.
For art-philosophy as a distinct science even this non-committal
conclusion is of vital importance. It gives us a right to regard all
the forms and developments of art as witnesses to an activity which
tends to become more and more independent of the immediate utilities of
life. This tendency, on the other hand, not only affords us a point of
unity from which to start upon a research into the general philosophy
of art; it also presents to us one of the greatest problems of the same
science. How it is that mankind has come to devote energy and zeal
to an activity which may be almost entirely devoid of a utilitarian
purpose is indeed the riddle, sociological as well as psychological,
which would seem in the first place to claim the attention of the
philosopher. To the writer of this book, at any rate, it appeared that
a discussion, and an attempt at solution, of this seeming paradox was
a task sufficiently important and interesting to form of itself the
subject of a special investigation.
But although the aspects of autotelic artistic activity give us at once
a datum and a problem on which we may confidently base our research,
we must not overlook the peculiar difficulties that will necessarily
arise from the exclusively psychological, non-historical character of
this basis. A historic study of art shows us that the artistic activity
proper can never be explained by examining concrete works as we meet
them in reality. Whenever we have to deal with art as autotelic, the
need of theoretical abstraction forces itself upon us with irresistible
cogency. It is of no avail to argue from the data of art-history,
because we can never fully know the mental origin of the works.
The problem presented to us by the tendency to engage in artistic
production and artistic enjoyment for their own sake can only be
solved by studying the psychology both of artists and of their public.
The “art-impulse” and the “art-sense,” as referring to subjective
tendencies in creators and spectators, are the chief notions with which
we have to operate in such an investigation. And when we are obliged to
introduce the notion of the “work of art” we have to remember that this
term, strictly speaking, refers to an abstract and ideal datum. Only
by thus restricting our attention to the psychical facts can we attain
any clear conception of that autotelic aspect of art on which so much
stress has been laid in all æsthetic philosophy.
It is needless to say, however, that even a purely philosophic
interpretation of art would be impossible without a knowledge of its
works and manifestations as they appear in real life, with all their
extraneous, non-æsthetic elements. The psychological examination must
therefore necessarily be supplemented by an historical one. The methods
of the latter research cannot be the same as those used in a strictly
æsthetic inquiry. And the words will naturally be employed in a
different sense. We do not at that stage demand of a poem, a painting,
or a drama, that it should fulfil more than the technical requirements
of the several arts. The ornamentation of a vase, _e.g._ is in this
sense a work of art even if it serves a magical, _i.e._ a supposed
practical purpose. Indeed it is most advantageous, if we wish to bring
out the influence of sociological factors with the greatest possible
clearness, to concentrate our attention upon the very qualities which
we have to disregard in the treatment of purely artistic activity. The
productions of primitive tribes, in which art is so closely connected
with life, supply the most profitable material for such a study. After
having examined, in these simple forms, all the sociological aspects
of art, it will be possible to place the two art-factors in the most
illustrative antithesis and to study their mutual influence. From this
it should be possible to suggest—although in this work no detailed
attempt will be made to follow out the reasoning—why it is that the
concrete work of art, although its historical origin may be entirely
non-æsthetic, has always proved so eminently adapted to serve the needs
of the purely aesthetic craving. And by starting from the conception of
æsthetic activities which has been arrived at on psychological grounds,
it should also be possible to determine the particular qualities in
individual works of art which make them more or less able to satisfy
this craving. Thus a theory of the psychological and sociological
origins of art may furnish suggestions for those which have been
considered as distinctive of æsthetic proper, such as the critical
estimation of works of art, or the derivation of laws which govern
artistic production.