The search for the meaning and scientific content of the word

"beautiful" could not but early attract the attention of the subtle

and elegant Greek dialecticians. Indeed, we find Socrates engaged

in discussing this question in one of the discourses that have been

preserved for us by Xenophon; and we find him disposed to stop for

the moment at the conclusion that the beautiful is _that which is

convenient and which answers to the end desired,_ or at the other

conclusion that it is _that which one loves_[16] Plato too examines

this sort of problem and proposes various sorts of solutions or

attempts at solutions of it. He sometimes speaks of a beauty that

dwells not only in bodies, but also in laws, in actions, in the

sciences; sometimes he seems to conjoin and almost to identify it

with the true, the good and the divine; now he returns to the view of

Socrates and confuses it with the useful; now he distinguishes between

a beautiful in itself (καλά καθ' αυτά) and a relatively beautiful (πρός

τι καλά); or he makes true beauty consist in pure pleasure (ήδονη

καθαρά), free from all shadow of pain; or he places it in measure and

proportion (μετριότης καί ξνμμετρία); or talks of colours and sounds

as possessing a beauty in themselves.[17] It was impossible to find

an independent dominion for the beautiful, if the artistic or mimetic

activity were deserted. This explains his wandering among so many

different conceptions, among which it is just possible to say that the

identification of the Beautiful with the Good prevails. Nothing better

describes this uncertainty than the dialogue of the _Hippias maior_

(which, if it be not Plato's, is Platonic). He here wishes to find

out not what things are beautiful things, but what the beautiful is;

that is to say, what it is that makes beautiful, not only a beautiful

virgin, but also a beautiful mare, a beautiful lyre, a beautiful pot

with two graceful ears of clay. Hippias and Socrates himself propose

in turn the most various solutions; but the latter ends by confuting

them all. "That which makes things beautiful is the gold that is added

to them by way of ornament." No: gold only embellishes where it is

_fitting_ (πρέπων): for instance, a pot should have a wooden rather

than a golden handle. "That is beautiful which cannot seem ugly to any

one." But it is not a question of _seeming_: the question is to define

what the beautiful is, whether it seems so or not. It is the _fitting_

which makes things seem to be beautiful. But in that case, the fitting

(which makes them _appear,_ not _be)_ is one thing, and the beautiful

another. "The beautiful is what leads to the end, that is to say, the

_useful_ (χρήσιμον)." But if that were so, then evil would also be

beautiful, because the useful leads also to the evil. "The beautiful

is the _helpful,_ that which leads to the good (ωφέλιμον)." But in

this case, the good would not be beautiful nor the beautiful good; for

the cause is not the effect, and the effect is not the cause. "The

beautiful is that which delights the sight and hearing." But this fails

to persuade for three reasons: firstly, because beautiful studies and

laws are beautiful, which have nothing to do with the eye or with the

ear; secondly, because we cannot discover a reason for limiting the

beautiful to those senses, while excluding the pleasure of eating and

smelling, and the extremely vivid pleasures of sex; thirdly, because,

if the foundation of the beautiful were _visibility,_ it would not be

_audibility,_ and if it were audibility it would not be visibility;

hence that which constitutes the beautiful cannot dwell in either

of the two qualities. And the question which has been repeated so

insistently in the course of the dialogue: _what is the beautiful?_ (τί

εστι το καλόν;) remains unanswered.[18]

Later writers also conducted inquiries into the beautiful, and we

possess the titles of several treatises upon the theme, which have

been lost. Aristotle shows himself changeable and uncertain upon the

point. In the scanty references which he makes to it, he at one time

confounds the beautiful with the good, defining it as that which is

both good and pleasing;[19] at another he notes that the good consists

of action (εν πράξει) and the beautiful also in things that are

immoveable (εν τοΐς άκινήτοις), drawing from this the argument that

mathematics should be studied in order to determine its characters,

order, symmetry and limit;[20] sometimes he places it in bigness and

in order (εν μεγεθει καί τάξει);[21] at others he was led to look upon

it as something apparently indefinable.[22] Antiquity also established

canons of beautiful things, such as that attributed to Polycletus on

the proportions of the human body. And Cicero said of the beauty of

bodies that they were "_quaedam apta figura membrorum cum coloris quadam

suavitate._"[23] All these affirmations, even when they are not mere

empirical observations, or verbal glosses and substitutions, meet with

unsurmountable obstacles.

[Sidenote: _Distinction between the theory of Art and the theory of the

Beautiful._]

In any case, not only is the conception of the beautiful, taken as

a whole, identified with art in none of them; but sometimes art and

beauty, mimesis and pleasing or displeasing material of mimesis, are

clearly distinguished. Aristotle notes in his _Poetics_ that it pleases

us to see the most faithful images of things that are repugnant to

us in reality, such, for instance, as the most contemptible forms of

animals, or corpses (τάς εικόνας τάς μάλιστα ήκριβωμενας χαίρομεν

θεωρουντες).[24] Plutarch demonstrates at length that works of art

please us not as beautiful but as _resembling_ (ούχ ως καλόν, άλλ,'

ως ομοιον); he affirms that if the artist beautified things that are

ugly in nature he would be offending against fitness and resemblance

(το πρεπον και το eίκός); and he proclaims the principle that _the

beautiful is one thing and beautiful imitation another_ (oύ yaρ εστι

ταυτό, το καλον και καλως τι μιμεισθαι). Paintings of horrible events

are pleasing, such as _Medea slaying her sons_ by Timomachus, _Orestes

the matricide_ by Theon, and the _Pretended madness of Ulysses_ by

Parrhasius; and if the grunting of a pig, the grating of a machine,

the noise of the winds and the tumult of the sea are unpleasing, they

pleased on the contrary in the case of Parmenon, who imitated the pig

perfectly, and in Theodorus, who was not less expert in rendering the

grating of machines.[25] If the ancients had really wanted to place

the beautiful and art in relation, a secondary and partial connexion

of the two conceptions was to hand in the shape of the category of the

_relatively_ as distinguished from the _absolutely_ beautiful. But

where the word _καλόν_ or _pulchrum_ is applied to artistic productions

in the writings of literary critics, it does not seem to be more than a

linguistic usage, as we find, for instance, in the case of Plutarch's

_beautiful_ imitation, or also in the terminology of the rhetoricians,

who sometimes called elegance and adornment of discourse _beauty_ of

elocution (το τής φράσεως κάλλος).

[Sidenote: _Fusion of the two by Plotinus._]

It is only with Plotinus that the two divided territories are united

and _the beautiful and art are fused into a single concept,_ not by

means of a beneficial absorption of the _equivocal_ Platonic conception

of beauty into the _unequivocal_ conception of art, but by absorption

of the clear into the confused, of _imitative art_ in the so-called

_beautiful._ And thus we reach an altogether new view: the beautiful

and art are now both alike melted into a mystical passion and elevation

of the spirit.

Beauty, observes Plotinus, resides chiefly in things visible; but it

is also to be found in things audible, such as verbal and musical

compositions, and it is not lacking in things supersensible, such as

works, offices, actions, habits, sciences and virtues. What is it

that makes beautiful sensible and supersensible things alike? Not, he

answers, the symmetry of their parts among themselves, and with the

whole (συμμετρία των μερών προς αλληλα και προς το ολον) and their

colour (ενχροια), according to one of the definitions most in vogue,

which we have quoted above in the words of Cicero; because there are

proportions in things ugly, and there are things that are simply

beautiful without any relation of proportion: beauty, then, is one

thing and symmetry another.[26] The beautiful is what we welcome as

akin to our own nature; the ugly is what repels us as our opposite,

and the affinity of beautiful things with our souls that perceive them

has its origin in the Idea, which produces both. That is beautiful

which is _formed_; the ugly is what is _unformed,_ that is to say,

something which is capable of receiving form, but does not receive it

or is not entirely dominated by it. A beautiful body is such, because

of its communion (κοινωνία) with the Divine; beauty is the Divine, the

Idea, shining through; and matter is beautiful, not in itself, but only

when it is illuminated by the Idea. Light and fire, which are nearest

to this state, shed beauty upon visible things, as the most spiritual

among bodies. But the soul must purify itself, in order to perceive the

beautiful, and make the power of the Idea that lies in it efficacious.

Moderation, strength, prudence, and every other virtue, what else are

they, according to the oracle, but _purification_? Thus there opens

another eye in the soul, beside that of sensible beauty, which permits

it to contemplate divine Beauty coincident with the Good, which is the

supreme condition of beatitude.[27] Art enters into such contemplation,

because beauty, in things made by man, comes from the mind. Compare two

blocks of stone, the one placed beside the other: one rough and crude,

the other reduced to the statue of a god or of a man, for example of

a Grace or of a Muse, or of a human being of such a shape, as art has

collected from many particular beauties. The beauty of a block of this

shape does not consist in its being of stone, but in the form that

art has been able to give to it (παρά του ειδους o ενηκεν η τέχνη);

and when the form is fully impressed upon it, the thing of art is more

beautiful than any other natural thing. Hence he who despised the arts

(Plato), because they imitated nature, was wrong; whereas the truth

is, in the first place, that nature itself imitates the idea, and then

that the arts do not simply limit themselves to imitating what the eyes

see, but go back to those reasons or ideas from which nature itself is

derived (ώς ούχ απλώς το όρώμενον μεμούνται, αλλ' άνατρέχουσιν επι τούς

λόγους έξ ων η φύσις). Art therefore does not belong to nature, but

adds beauty where it is wanting in nature: Phidias did not represent

Jove because he had seen him, but such as he would appear if he wished

to reveal himself to mortal eyes.[28] The beauty of natural things

is the archetype existing in the soul, the sole source of natural

beauty.[29]

[Sidenote: _The scientific tendency. Aristotle._]

This affirmation of Plotinus and of neo-Platonism is the first

true and proper affirmation of mystical Æsthetic, destined to such

high fortunes in modern times, especially in the first half of the

nineteenth century. But the attempts at a true Æsthetic, excluding

certain luminous but incidental observations to be found even in

Plato: for instance, that the poet should weave fables, not arguments

(μύθους άλλ' ού λόγους),[30] go back to Aristotle and are altogether

independent of his few and feeble speculations as to the beautiful.

Aristotle by no means agreed with the Platonic condemnation; he felt

(as indeed Plato himself had suspected) that such a result could not

be altogether true, and that some aspect of the problem must have been

neglected. When in his turn he attempted to find a solution, he found

himself in more advantageous conditions than his great predecessor,

since he had already overcome the obstacle that arose from the Platonic

doctrine of ideas, a hypostasis of concepts and abstractions. The ideas

were for him simply concepts, and reality presented itself in a far

more lively manner, not as a diminution of ideas, but as a synthesis of

matter and form, it was thus much more easy for him to recognize the

rationality of mimesis in his general philosophical doctrine and to

assign to it its right place; and indeed it seems generally clear to

Aristotle that mimesis, being proper to man by nature, is contemplation

or theoretic activity; although he sometimes seems to forget this (as

when he confuses imitation with the case of boys, who acquire their

first knowledge by following an example[31]), and although his system,

which admits practical sciences and poietic activities (distinguished

from the practical as leaving a material object behind them), disturbed

the firm and constant consideration of artistic mimesis and poetry as

a theoretical activity. But if it is a theoretical activity, by what

characteristic is poetry distinguished both from _scientific_ knowledge

and from _historical_ knowledge? This is the way Aristotle states the

problem concerning the nature of art, and this is the true and only

way of stating it. Even we moderns ask ourselves in what way art is

distinguished from history and from science, and what this artistic

form can be, which has the ideality of science and the concreteness

and individuality of history. Poetry, answers Aristotle, differs from

history, because, while the latter draws things that have happened

(τα γενόμενα), poetry draws things that may possibly happen (οια αν

γένοιτο), and differs from science, because, although it regards the

universal and not the particular (τα καθ' εκαστον) like history,

it does not regard it in the same way as science, but in a certain

measure, which the philosopher indicates by the word _rather_ (μαλλον

τα καθόλου). The point then is to establish the precise meaning of

the _possible,_ the _rather_ and the _historical particular._ But no

sooner does Aristotle attempt to determine the meaning of these words,

than he falls into contradictions and fallacies. That _universal_ of

poetry, which is the _possible,_ seems to identify itself for him with

the probable or the necessary (τα _κατά το είκος η το άναγκαΐον_),

and the particular of history is not explained at all, except by

giving instances: "that which Alcibiades did and what happened to

him."[32] Aristotle, in fact, after having made so good a beginning

in the discovery of the purely imaginative, proper to poetry, remains

half-way, perplexed and uncertain. Thus he sometimes makes the truth

of imitation consist in a certain learning and syllogizing that takes

place when we look at imitations, by which we recognize that "this is

that," that a copy answers to the original;[33] or, worse, he loses the

grains of truth that he has found and forgets that poetry has for its

content the possible, admitting, not only that it may also depict the

_impossible_ (το αδύνατον), and even the _absurd_ (το άτοπον), seeing

that both are _credible_ and that they do not injure the end of art,

but even that we must prefer impossible probabilities to incredible

possibilities.[34] Art, since it has to do even with the impossible

and absurd, will not therefore have in it anything of the rational,

but in accordance with the Platonic theory it will be an imitation of

the appearance in which empty sense indulges itself; that is to say, a

thing of pleasure. Aristotle does not attain to this result, because

he does not attain to any clear and precise result in this part of the

subject, but it is one of the results that can be deduced from what he

has said, or that, at any rate he is not able to exclude. This means

that he did not fulfil his tacitly assumed task, and that although

he re-examined the problem with marvellous acuteness after Plato, he

failed truly to rid himself of the Platonic definition, by substituting

a firmly-established one of his own.

[Sidenote: _The concepts of imitation and of imagination after A

ristotle. Philostratus._]

But the field of investigation toward which Aristotle had turned was

generally neglected in antiquity: the very _Poetics_ of Aristotle does

not seem to have been widely known or influential. Ancient psychology

knew fancy or imagination as a faculty midway between sense and

intellect, but always as conservative and reproductive of sensuous

impressions or conveying conceptions to the senses, never properly

as a productive autonomous activity. That faculty was rarely and with

little result placed in relation with the problem of art. Several

historians of Æsthetic attach singular importance to certain passages

in the _Life of Apollonius of Tyana_ by the elder Philostratus, in

which they believe that they discover a correction of the theory of

_mimesis_ and the first affirmation in history of the conception of

_imaginative creation._ Phidias and Praxiteles (says the extract in

question) did not need to go to heaven to see the gods, in order to

be able to depict them in their works, as would have been necessary

according to the theory of imitation. Imagination, without any need

of models, made them able to do what they did: imagination, which is

a wiser agent than simple imitation (φαντασία ... σοφωτόρα μιμήσεως

δημιουργός), and gives form, like the other, not only to what has been

seen, but also to what has never been seen, imagining it on the basis

of existing things and in that way creating Jupiters and Minervas.[35]

However, the imagination of which Philostratus speaks here is not

something different from the Aristotelian mimesis, which, as has been

noted, was concerned not only with real things but also and chiefly

with possible things. And had not Socrates observed (in the dialogue

with the painter Parrhasius, preserved for us by Xenophon) that

painters work by collecting what they need to form their figures from

several bodies (εκ πολλων συνάγοντες τα εξ εκάστου καλλιστα)?[36] And

was not the anecdote of Zeuxis, who was supposed to have taken the

best of five Crotonian maidens in order to paint his Helen, and other

anecdotes of a like sort, sufficiently widespread in antiquity? And

had not Cicero eloquently explained, some years before Philostratus,

how Phidias, when he was carving Jupiter, did not copy anything real,

but kept his looks fixed upon "_species pulcritudinis eximia quaedam,_"

which he had in his soul and which directed his art and his hand?[37]

Nor can it be said that Philostratus opened the way to Plotinus,

for whom the superior or intellectual imagination (νοητή), or eye of

supersensible beauty, when it is not a new designation for beautiful

imitation, is mystical intuition.

The vagueness of the concept of mimesis reached its apex in those

writers who gave it as a general title to any sort of work that had

nature for its object, employing the Aristotelian phrase to affirm

that "_omnis ars naturae imitatio est,_"[38] or saying, like the

painter Eupompus when he blamed his servile imitators, that "_natura

est imitanda, non artifex._"[39] And those who wished to escape this

vagueness did not know how to do so, save by conceiving the activity of

imitation as the practical producer of duplicates of natural objects, a

prejudice bora in the bosom of the pictorial and plastic arts, against

which Philostratus perhaps intended to argue, in common with the other

advocates of imagination.

[Sidenote: _Speculations on language._]

The speculations upon language had a close connexion with those upon

the nature of art begun by the sophists, for whom it became a matter

for wonder that sounds could signify colours or things inaudible; that

is to say, _speech_ presented itself as a _problem._[40] It was then

discussed whether language was by nature (φύσει or by convention νόμω).

By nature was sometimes understood mental necessity, and by convention

what we should call a merely natural fact, psychological mechanism or

sensationalism. In that sense of the terms, language would have been

better called φύσει than νόμω. But at other times the distinction led

to the question whether language answers to objective or logical truth

and to the real relations between things (όρθότης των ονομάτων); and

in this case, those would seem to be nearer the truth who proclaimed

it to be conventional or arbitrary in respect to logical truth: νόμω

or θέσει, and not φύσει Two different questions were consequently

being treated together, and both were confusedly and equivocally

discussed. They find their monument in the obscure _Cratylus_ of

Plato, which seems to fluctuate between different solutions. Nor did

the later affirmation that the word is a sign (σημείον) of the thought

solve anything, for it still remained to be shown in what way the sign

was to be understood, whether φύσει or νόμω. Aristotle, who looked

upon words as imitations (μιμηματα), in the same way as poetry,[41]

made an observation of first-rate importance: in addition to the

_enunciative_ propositions, which express the (logically) true or

false, there are others which do not express either the (logically)

true or false, as for example the expressions of aspirations and of

desires (εύχή), which therefore belong, not to logical exposition, but

to poetical and rhetorical exposition.[42] And in another place we

find him affirming in opposition to Bryson (who had said that a base

thing remained such with whatever word it were designated) that base

things can be expressed both with words that place them beneath the

eye in all their crudity, and with other words which surround them

with a veil.[43] All this might have led to the separation of the

linguistic faculty from the properly logical, and to its consideration

in union with the poetical and artistic faculty; but here too the

attempt stopped half-way. The Aristotelian logic assumed a verbal and

formalistic character, which became more and more accentuated as time

went on and formed an obstacle to the distinction between the two

theoretical forms. Nevertheless, Epicurus asserted that the diversity

of names designating the same thing with various peoples was due,

not to convention and caprice, but to the fact that the impressions

produced by things were different in each one of them.[44] And the

Stoics, although they connected language with thought (διάνοια) and

not with imagination, seem to have had a suspicion of the non-logical

nature of language, for they interposed between thought and sound a

_certain something_ which was indicated in Greek by the word λεκτόν,

and by the words _effatum_ or _dicibile_ in Latin. But we are not sure

what they really meant, and whether that vague concept were intended

by them to distinguish the linguistic representation from the abstract

concept (which would bring them into touch with the modern view), or

the meaning of sound in general.[45]

We cannot collect any other germ of truth from the ancient writers.

A philosophical Grammar, like a philosophical Poetics, remained

unattainable in antiquity.

[1] See above, pp. 128-131. Quotations which give only the name

of the author, or are otherwise abbreviated, refer to historical

or critical works of which the complete title is given in the

Bibliographical Appendix.

[2] Rosmini, _Nuovo saggio sull' origine delle idee,_ sections iii. and

iv., where theories of knowledge are classified.

[3] See above, pp. 83-84.

[4] See above, p. 65.

[5] _Republic_, x. 607.

[6] _Republic_, x. 607.

[7] Plutarch, _De audiendis poetis_, ch. i.

[8] _Republic_ x.

[9] _Frogs,_ 1, 1055.

[10] Plato, _Laws,_ bk. ii.; Aristotle, _Poet._ ch. 14; _Polit,_ bk.

viii.

[11] Strabo, _Geographica,_ i. ch. 2, §§ 3-9.

[12] Texts collected in E. Müller, _Gesch. d. Th. d. K._ i. pp. 57-85.

[13] Plutarch, _De aud. poetis,_ chs. 1-4, 14.

[14] _De rerum natura,_ i. 935-947.

[15] _Ad Pisones,_ 333-334.

[16] _Memorab._ iii. ch. 8; iv. ch. 6.

[18] _Hippias maior, passim._

[19] _Rhet._ i. ch. 9.

[20] _Metaphys._ xii. ch. 3.

[21] _Poet._ ch. 7.

[22] Diog. Lært. v. ch. i, § 20.

[23] _Tuscul. quæst._ bk. iv. § 13.

[24] _Poet._ ch. iv. 3.

[25] _De aud. poetis_, ch. 3.

[26] _Enneads,_ I. bk. vi. ch. i.

[27] _Enneads, loc. cit._ chs. 2-9.

[28] _Enneads,_ V. bk. viii. ch. i.

[29] _Enneads, loc. cit._ chs. 2-3.

[30] _Phædrus,_ ch. 4.

[31] Poet. ch. 4, § 2.

[32] Poet. ch. 9, §§ 1-4.

[33] Poet. ch. 4, §§ 4-5.

[34] Poet. chs. 24-25.

[35] _Apoll. vita,_ vi. ch. io.

[36] _Memorab._ iii. ch. io.

[37] _Orator ad Brutum,_ ch. 2.

[38] For example, Seneca, _Epist._ 65.

[39] Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ xxxiv. ch. 19.

[40] Gorgias in _De Xenoph., Zen. et Gorg._ (in Aristot., ed. Didot),

chs. 5-6.

[41] _Rhet._ bk. iii. ch. 1.

[42] _Rhet._ bk. iii. ch. 2.

[43] _De interp._ ch. 4.

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