to the modern works on the subject, must agree that all contain a
haphazard mixture of verbal facts and facts of thought, of grammatical
forms and of conceptual forms, of Æsthetic and of Logic. Not that
attempts have been wanting to escape from verbal expression and to
seize thought in its true nature. Aristotelian logic itself did not
become mere syllogistic and verbalism without some hesitation and
indecision. The problem proper to logic was often touched upon in
their disputes by the nominalists, realists and conceptualists of the
Middle Ages. With Galileo and with Bacon, the natural sciences gave an
honourable place to induction. Vico combated formalist and mathematical
logic in favour of inventive methods. Kant called attention to the _a
priori_ synthesis. Absolute idealism despised the Aristotelian Logic.
The followers of Herbart, though still loyal to Aristotle, emphasized
those judgements which they called narrative and which have a character
altogether differing from that of other logical judgements. Finally,
the linguists insisted upon the irrationality of the word, in relation
to the concept. But a conscious, sure and radical movement of reform
can find no basis or point of departure, save in the science of
Æsthetic.
[Sidenote: _Logic in its essence._]
In a Logic suitably reformed on this basis, this truth must first and
foremost be proclaimed, and all its consequences deduced: the logical
fact, _the only logical fact,_ is _the concept,_ the universal, the
spirit that forms, and in so far as it forms, the universal. And if
by induction be understood, as sometimes it has been, the formation
of universals, and by deduction their verbal development, then it is
clear that true Logic can be nothing but inductive Logic. But since by
the word "deduction" has been more frequently understood the special
processes of mathematics, and the word "induction" those of the natural
sciences, it will be best to avoid both words and say that true Logic
is Logic of the concept. The Logic of the concept, while employing
a method which is both induction and deduction, will employ neither
exclusively, that is, it will employ the speculative method which is
intrinsic to it.
The concept, the universal, considered abstractly in itself, is
_inexpressible._ No word is proper to it. So true is this, that the
logical concept remains always the same, notwithstanding the variation
of verbal forms. In respect to the concept, expression is a simple
_sign_ or _indication._ There must be an expression, it cannot be
absent; but what it is to be, this or that, is determined by the
historical and psychological conditions of the individual who is
speaking. The quality of the expression is not deducible from the
nature of the concept. There does not exist a true (logical) sense of
words. The true sense of words is that which is conferred upon them on
each occasion by the person forming a concept.
[Sidenote: _Distinction between logical and non-logical judgements._]
This being so, the only truly logical (that is, æsthetico-logical)
propositions, the only rigorously logical judgements, must be those
whose proper and sole content is the determination of a concept. These
propositions or judgements are _definitions._ Science itself is nothing
but a collection of definitions, unified in a supreme definition; a
system of concepts, or highest concept.
It is therefore necessary (at least as a preliminary) to exclude
from Logic all those propositions which do not affirm universals.
Narrative judgements, not less than those termed non-enunciative by
Aristotle, such as the expression of desires, are not properly logical
judgements. They are either purely æsthetic propositions or historical
propositions. "Peter is passing; it is raining to-day; I am sleepy; I
want to read": these and an infinity of propositions of the same kind
are nothing but either a mere enclosing in words the impression of
the fact that Peter is passing, of the falling rain, of my organism
inclining to sleep, and of my will directed to reading, or an
existential affirmation concerning those facts. They are expressions of
the real or of the unreal, historical-imaginative or pure-imaginative;
they are certainly not definitions of universals.
[Sidenote: _Syllogistic._]
This exclusion cannot meet with great difficulties. It is already
almost an accomplished fact, and the only thing required is to render
it explicit, decisive and coherent. But what is to be done with
all that part of human thought called _syllogistic,_ consisting of
judgements and reasonings based upon concepts? What is syllogistic?
Is it to be looked down upon with contempt, as something useless, as
has so often been done by the humanists in their reaction against
scholasticism, by absolute idealism, by the enthusiastic admiration of
our times for the methods of observation and experiment of the natural
sciences?--Syllogistic, reasonings _forma,_ is not the discovery of
truth; it is the art of expounding, debating, disputing with oneself
and others. Proceeding from concepts already formed, from facts already
observed, and appealing to the persistence of the true or of thought
(such is the meaning of the laws of identity and contradiction), it
infers consequences from those data, that is, it re-states what has
already been discovered. Therefore, if it be an _idem per idem_ from
the point of view of invention, it is most efficacious in teaching and
in exposition. To reduce affirmations to a syllogistic form is a way of
controlling one's own thought and of criticizing the thought of others.
It is easy to laugh at syllogizers, but, if syllogistic has been born
and persists, it must have good reasons of its own. Satire on it can
concern only its abuses, such as the attempt to prove syllogistically
questions of fact, observation and intuition, or the neglect of
profound meditation and unprejudiced investigation of problems, in
favour of syllogistic externality. And if so-called _mathematical
Logic_ can sometimes aid us in our attempt to remember with ease,
rapidly to control the results of our own thought, let us welcome this
form of syllogistic also, anticipated by Leibnitz among others and
again attempted by some in our own days.
But precisely because syllogistic is the art of exposition and debate,
its theory cannot hold the first place in a philosophical Logic, thus
usurping that belonging to the doctrine of the concept, which is
the central and dominating doctrine, to which everything logical in
syllogistic is reducible, without leaving a residuum (relations of
concepts, subordination, co-ordination, identification and so on). Nor
must it ever be forgotten that concept and (logical) judgement and
syllogism are not in the same line. The first alone is the logical
fact, the second and third are the forms in which the first manifests
itself. These, in so far as they are forms, can only be examined
æsthetically (grammatically), and in so far as they possess logical
content, only by ignoring the forms themselves and passing to the
doctrine of the concept.
[Sidenote: _Logical falsehood and æsthetic truth._]
This confirms the truth of the ordinary remark to the effect that
he who reasons ill, also speaks and writes ill, that exact logical
analysis is the basis of good expression. This truth is a tautology,
for to reason well is in fact to express oneself well, because the
expression is the intuitive possession of one's own logical thought.
The principle of contradiction itself is at bottom nothing but
the æsthetic principle of coherence. It may be maintained that it
is possible to write and to speak exceedingly well, as it is also
possible to reason well though starting from erroneous concepts; that
some, though lacking the acuteness that makes a great discoverer,
are nevertheless exceedingly lucid writers; because to write well
depends upon having a clear intuition of one's own thought, even if
it be erroneous; not of its scientific, but of its æsthetic truth,
which indeed is the same thing as writing well. A philosopher like
Schopenhauer can imagine that art is a representation of the Platonic
ideas. This doctrine is scientifically false, yet he may develop this
false knowledge in excellent prose, æsthetically most true. But we
have already replied to these objections, when observing that at that
precise point where a speaker or a writer enunciates an ill-thought
concept, he is at the same time a bad speaker and a bad writer,
although he may afterwards recover himself in the many other parts
of his thought which contain true propositions not connected with
the preceding error, and therefore lucid expressions following upon
confused expressions.
[Sidenote: _Reformed logic._]
All researches as to the forms of judgements and of syllogisms, their
conversions and their various relations, which still encumber treatises
on Logic, are therefore destined to diminish, to be transformed, to be
converted into something else. The doctrine of the concept and of the
organism of concepts, of definition, of system, of philosophy and the
various sciences, and the like, will occupy the field and alone will
constitute true and proper Logic.
Those who first had some suspicion of the intimate connexion between
Æsthetic and Logic and conceived Æsthetic as a _Logic of sensible
knowledge_ were peculiarly addicted to applying logical categories to
the new knowledge, talking of _æsthetic concepts, æsthetic judgements,
æsthetic syllogisms,_ and so on. We who are less superstitious as
regards the permanence of the traditional Logic of the schools,
and better informed as to the nature of Æsthetic, do not recommend
the application of Logic to Æsthetic, but the liberation of Logic
from æsthetic forms. These have given rise to non-existent forms or
categories of Logic, due to the adoption of altogether arbitrary and
ill-considered distinctions.
Logic thus reformed will still be _formal_ Logic; it will study the
true form or activity of thought, the concept, excluding individual
and particular concepts. The old Logic is ill called formal; it would
be better to call it _verbal_ or _formalistic._ Formal Logic will drive
out formalistic Logic. To attain this object, it will not be necessary
to have recourse, as some have done, to a real or material Logic,
which is no longer a science of thought, but thought itself in action;
not only a Logic, but the whole of Philosophy, in which Logic is also
included. The science of thought (Logic) is that of the concept, as
that of imagination (Æsthetic) is that of expression. The well-being
of both sciences lies in exactly carrying out in every particular the
distinction between the two domains.
_Note to the Fourth Italian Edition._--The observations contained in
this chapter on Logic, which are not all of them clear or accurate,
should be clarified and corrected by means of the further treatment
of the theme in the second volume of the _Philosophy of the Spirit,_
dedicated to Logic, where the distinction between logical and
historical propositions is again examined and their synthetic unity
demonstrated.
VI
THE THEORETIC ACTIVITY AND THE PRACTICAL ACTIVITY
The intuitive and intellectual forms contain between them, as we have
said, the whole theoretic domain of the spirit. But it is not possible
to know them thoroughly, nor to criticize another series of erroneous
æsthetic theories, without first establishing clearly the relations of
the theoretic spirit with the _practical_ spirit.
[Sidenote: _The will._]
The practical form or activity is the _will._ We do not here employ
this word in the sense of some philosophical systems, where the will
is the foundation of the universe, the ground of things and the true
reality. Nor do we employ it in the wide sense of other systems,
which understand by will the energy of the spirit, spirit or activity
in general, making of every act of the human spirit an act of will.
Neither such metaphysical nor such metaphorical meaning is ours. For
us, the will is, as generally understood, that activity of the spirit
which differs from the merely theoretical contemplation of things,
and is productive, not of knowledge, but of actions. Action is really
action, in so far as it is voluntary. It is not necessary to remark
that in the will to do, we include, in the scientific sense, also what
is usually called not-doing: the will to resist, to reject, the will of
a Prometheus, which also is action.
[Sidenote: _The will as an ulterior stage in respect to knowledge._]
Man understands things with the theoretical form, with the practical
form he changes them; with the one he appropriates the universe, with
the other he creates it. But the first form is the basis of the second;
and the relation of _double degree,_ which we have already found
existing between æsthetic and logical activity, is repeated between
these two on a larger scale. A knowing independent of the will is
thinkable, at least in a certain sense; will independent of knowing is
unthinkable. Blind will is not will; true will has eyes.
How can we will, without having before us historical intuitions
(perceptions) of objects, and knowledge of (logical) relations, which
enlightens us as to the nature of those objects? How can we really
will, if we do not know the world which surrounds us or how to change
things by acting upon them?
[Sidenote: _Objections and explanations._]
It has been objected that men of action, practical men _par
excellence,_ are the least disposed to contemplate and to theorize:
their energy is not delayed in contemplation, it rushes at once into
will. And conversely, that contemplative men, philosophers, are
often very mediocre in practical matters, weak willed, and therefore
neglected and thrust aside in the tumult of life. It is easy to
see that these distinctions are merely empirical and quantitative.
Certainly, the practical man has no need of a philosophical system in
order to act, but in the spheres where he does act, he starts from
intuitions and concepts which are perfectly clear to him. Otherwise the
most ordinary actions could not be willed. It would not be possible
to will to feed oneself, for instance, without knowledge of the food,
and of the link of cause and effect between certain movements and
certain satisfactions. Rising gradually to the more complex forms
of action, for example to the political, how could we will anything
politically good or bad without knowing the real conditions of society,
and consequently the means and expedients to be adopted? When the
practical man feels himself in the dark about one or more of these
points, or when he is seized with doubt, action either does not begin
or stops. It is then that the theoretical moment, which in the rapid
succession of human actions is hardly noticed and rapidly forgotten,
becomes important and occupies consciousness for a longer time. And
if this moment be prolonged, then the practical man may become a
Hamlet, divided between desire for action and his deficient theoretical
clarity as regards the situation and the means to be employed. And if
he develop a taste for contemplation and discovery, and leave willing
and acting, to a greater or less extent, to others, there is formed in
him the calm disposition of the artist, of the man of science, or of
the philosopher, who in practice are sometimes incompetent or downright
immoral. These observations are all obvious. Their exactitude cannot be
denied. Let us, however, repeat that they are founded on quantitative
distinctions and do not disprove but confirm the fact that an action,
however slight it be, cannot really be an action, that is, an action
that is willed, unless it be preceded by the cognitive activity.
[Sidenote: _Criticism of practical judgements or judgements of value._]
Some psychologists, on the other hand, place before practical action
an altogether special class of judgements, which they call _practical_
judgements or _judgements of value._ They say that in order to resolve
on performing an action there must have been a judgement to the
effect: "this action is useful, this action is good." And at first
sight this seems to have the testimony of consciousness on its side.
But closer observation and analysis of greater subtlety reveal that
such judgements follow instead of preceding the affirmation of the
will, and are nothing but the expression of the volition already
exercised. A good or useful action is an action willed. It will always
be impossible to distil a single drop of usefulness or goodness from
the objective study of things. We do not desire things because we know
them to be good or useful; but we know them to be good and useful,
because we desire them. Here too, the rapidity with which the facts
of consciousness follow one another has given rise to an illusion.
Practical action is preceded by knowledge, but not by practical
knowledge, or rather, knowledge of the practical: to obtain this, we
must first have practical action. The third moment, therefore, of
practical judgements, or judgements of value, is altogether imaginary.
It does not come between the two moments or degrees of theory and
practice. For the rest, normative sciences in general, which regulate
or command, discover and indicate values to the practical activity,
do not exist; indeed none exist for any sort of activity, since every
science presupposes that activity to be already realized and developed,
which it afterwards takes as its object.
[Sidenote: _Exclusion of the practical from the æsthetic._]
These distinctions established, we must condemn as erroneous every
theory which annexes the æsthetic activity to the practical, or
introduces the laws of the second into the first. That science is
theory and art practice has been many times affirmed. Those who make
this statement, and look upon the æsthetic fact as a practical fact,
do not do so capriciously or because they are groping in the void; but
because they have their eye on something which is really practical. But
the practical which they aim is not Æsthetic, nor within Æsthetic; it
is _outside and beside it_; and although often found united, they are
not united necessarily or by the bond of identity of nature.
The æsthetic fact is altogether completed in the expressive elaboration
of impressions. When we have achieved the word within us, conceived
definitely and vividly a figure or a statue, or found a musical motive,
expression is born and is complete; there is no need for anything else.
If after this we should open our mouths-_will_ to open them to speak,
or our throats to sing, that is to say, utter by word of mouth and
audible melody what we have completely said or sung to ourselves; or
if we should stretch out_--will_ to stretch out our hands to touch the
notes of the piano, or to take up the brush and chisel, thus making
on a large scale movements which we have already made in little and
rapidly, in a material in which we leave more or less durable traces;
this is all an addition, a fact which obeys quite different laws from
the former, with which we are not concerned for the moment, although
we recognize henceforth that this second movement is a production
of things, a _practical_ fact, or fact of _will_. It is usual to
distinguish the internal from the external work of art: the terminology
seems to us infelicitous, for the work of art (the æsthetic work) is
always _internal_; and what is called _external_ is no longer a work of
art. Others distinguish between _æsthetic_ fact and _artistic_ fact,
meaning by the second the external or practical stage, which may follow
and generally does follow the first. But in this case, it is simply a
question of a linguistic usage, doubtless permissible, though perhaps
not advisable.
[Sidenote: _Criticism of the theory of the end of art and of the choice
of content._]
For the same reasons the search for the _end of art_ is ridiculous,
when it is understood of art as art. And since to fix an end is to
choose, the theory that the content of art must be _selected_ is
another form of the same error. A selection among impressions and
sensations implies that these are already expressions, otherwise how
could a selection be made among the continuous and indistinct? To
choose is to will: to will this and not to will that: and this and that
must be before us, expressed. Practice follows, it does not precede
theory; expression is free inspiration.
The true artist, in fact, finds himself big with his theme, he knows
not how; he feels the moment of birth drawing near, but he cannot will
it or not will it. If he were to wish to act in opposition to his
inspiration, to make an arbitrary choice, if, born Anacreon, he should
wish to sing of Atreus and of Alcides, his lyre would warn him of
his mistake, sounding only of Venus and of Love, notwithstanding his
efforts to the contrary.
[Sidenote: _Practical innocence of art._]
The theme or content cannot, therefore, be practically or morally
charged with epithets of praise or blame. When critics of art remark
that a theme is _badly selected,_ in cases where that observation has
a just foundation, it is a question of blaming, not the selection of
the theme (which would be absurd), but the manner in which the artist
has treated it, the failure of the expression due to the contradictions
which it contains. And when the same critics object to the theme or
content of works which they proclaim to be artistically perfect as
being unworthy of art and blameworthy; if these expressions really are
perfect, there is nothing to be done but to advise the critics to
leave the artists in peace, for they can only derive inspiration from
what has moved their soul. They should rather direct their attention
towards effecting changes in surrounding nature and society, that
such impressions and states of soul should not recur. If ugliness
were to vanish from the world, if universal virtue and felicity were
established there, perhaps artists would no longer represent perverse
or pessimistic feelings, but calm, innocent and joyous feelings,
Arcadians of a real Arcady. But so long as ugliness and turpitude
exist in nature and impose themselves upon the artist, to prevent
the expression of these things also is impossible; and when it has
arisen, _factum infectum fieri nequit._ We speak thus entirely from the
æsthetic point of view, and of pure criticism of art.
We are not concerned to estimate the damage which the criticism of
"choice" does to artistic production, with the prejudices which it
produces or maintains among the artists themselves, and with the
conflict to which it gives rise between artistic impulse and critical
demands. It is true that sometimes it seems also to do some good, by
aiding artists to discover themselves, that is, their own impressions
and their own inspiration, and to acquire consciousness of the task
which is, as it were, imposed upon them by the historical moment in
which they live, and by their individual temperament. In these cases,
criticism of "choice," while believing that it generates, merely
recognizes and aids the expressions which are already being formed.
It believes itself to be the mother, where, at most, it is only the
midwife.
[Sidenote: _The independence of art._]
The impossibility of choice of content completes the theorem of the
_independence of art,_ and is also the only legitimate meaning of the
expression: _art for art's sake._ Art is independent both of science
and of the useful and the moral. There should be no fear lest frivolous
or cold art should thus be justified, since what is truly frivolous
or cold is so because it has not been raised to expression; or in
other words, frivolity and frigidity come always from the form of the
æsthetic treatment, from failure to grasp a content, not from the
material qualities of the content itself.
[Sidenote: _Criticism of the saying: the style is the man_]