THE FUNCTION OF ART: ART AND RELIGION
The distinctive purpose of art, so we have argued throughout this
study, is culture, the enrichment of the spirit. But lovers of art
have always claimed for it more active and broader influences. To my
thinking, most of such claims, especially in our age, like similar
claims for religion, are greatly exaggerated. Passion, convention,
economic fact in the largest sense, practical intelligence, these are
the dominant forces swaying men, not beauty, not religion. Indeed, one
who would compare the influence of art upon life at the present time
with its influence upon primitive societies might infer the early
extinction of that influence altogether. For among primitive men the
influence of art is all-pervading. With them art is inseparable from
utility and communal activities, upon which it has an immediate
modifying or strengthening effect. The movement of civilization, with
the exception of the Greek, mediaval, and renaissance city states, has
involved a breaking away from this original unity until, among
ourselves, art is developed and enjoyed in isolation from the rest of
life. Art is valued for its own sake, for its contribution to culture,
not for any further influence upon life, and this freedom has come to
be part of its very meaning. Instead of being interested only in
pictures and statues representing ourselves, our rulers, our gods, or
our neighborhood, we enjoy imitations of people who have had no effect
upon our lives whatever and scenes which we have never visited, and
we repair to museums to see them; instead of employing music to beautify
our daily life, we leave that life for the concert hall, where we shut
ourselves away for a few hours of "absolute" musical experience. Prose
literature and the drama, when inspired by contemporary social problems,
offer exceptions to this isolation, for through their ability to express
ideas they can exert a more pervasive influence. Although social
problems are solved in obedience to forces and demands beyond the
control of artists, literary expression is effective in persuading and
drawing into a movement men whose status would tend to make them hostile
or indifferent, as in Russia, where numerous men and women of the
aristocratic and wealthy classes became revolutionaries by reason of
literature. And yet the literary arts also have acquired a large measure
of isolation and independence. A play representing Viennese life is
appreciated in New York, a novel of contemporary manners in England
is enjoyed in America. Literature does not depend for its interest
upon its ability to interpret and influence the life that the reader
himself lives; he values it more because it extends than because it
reflects that life. People decry art for art's sake, but in vain.
The development of the relation of religion to life has been parallel
to the development of art. Originally, religion penetrated every
activity; now, by contrast, it has been removed from one after another
of the major human pursuits. Agriculture, formerly undertaken under
the guidance of religion; science, once the prerogative of the
priesthood; art, at one time inseparable from worship; politics, once
governed by the church and pretending a divine sanction; war, until
yesterday waged with the fancied cooperation of the gods--even these
are now under complete secular control. To be sure, there is some
music, sculpture, painting, and poetry still in the service of religion,
but its relative proportion is small; kings and congresses still appeal
for divine aid in times of crisis, but that is perfunctory; men still
pray for rain during drought, but without faith. No one would pretend
that our commerce and manufacturing have any direct relation to
religion. People still invoke divine authority for moral prescriptions,
but the sanctions actually operating are social instincts and fear of
public opinion and the law. Religion retains a direct and potent
influence only in the institution of marriage, the experience of death,
philosophy, and the social life and charities conducted by the churches.
Yet even in these spheres the influence is declining, and, so far as
it persists, is becoming indirect. Civil and contractual marriage are
slowly supplanting religious marriage; there are thousands living in
our large cities who do not feel the need of the church to establish
and cement their social life; most philosophers disclaim any religious
motive or authority for their investigations or beliefs. Only over
death does religion still hold undisputed sway.
However, despite the separation of religion and art from life, they
may continue to exert influence upon it. But, barring some new
integration of the sundered elements of our culture, which we may
deeply desire but cannot predict, this influence must be indirect and
subtle, and must occur independent of any institutional control. In
the case of both it consists in imparting to life a new meaning and
perfection, thus making possible a more complete affirmation of life
and a freer and more genial attitude and conduct.
For unless the spirit of art or of religion is infused into life, we
never find it quite satisfactory. To be sure, men sometimes think they
find perfection in certain things--in practical or moral endeavor, in
love or in pleasure; but unless art or religion is mixed into them,
they always prove to be, in the end, disappointing. No practical purpose
is ever quite successful; there is always some part of the plan left
unaccomplished; and the success itself is only momentary, for time
eventually engulfs it and forgets it. Practical life does not produce
any permanent and complete work; its task is done only to be done over
again; every house has to be repaired or torn down, every road rebuilt;
every invention is displaced by a new one. This is true even on the
higher planes of practical life, in political and social reconstruction.
Certain evils may be removed, certain abuses remedied, but new ones
always arise to take their places; and even when the entire system is
remodeled and men think that the day of freedom and justice has dawned
at last, they find, after a generation, a new tyranny and a new
injustice. The movement of life makes it impossible for any plan to
long endure. Hence the disillusion, the feeling of futility that so
often poisons the triumphs of practical men. And without the spirit
of art or of religion even love does not satisfy. For imagination
creates the perfection of its object and, aside from institutional
bonds fast loosening, a faith in the continued growth with one another
and with a child, which is essentially religious, creates the permanence
and meaning of its bond. Love's raptures, in so far as they are
instinctive, are, of course, independent of any view of life; but apart
from imagination and faith in one another, love does not keep its
quality or renew itself in memory, nor can it survive death which
always impends to destroy. Men often seek escape from the feeling of
imperfection in frivolity, but ennui is the inevitable consequence,
and reflection with its doubts cannot be stilled.
By contrast, in the religious experience and in beauty men feel that
they find perfection; hence the attitude of self-surrender and
joyousness characterizing both. The abandon of the spectator who decrees
that for the moment his life shall be that of the work of art, is
matched in the mystical experience by the emotion expressed in Dante's
line, "In his will is our peace." And in both the self-surrender is
based on a felt harmony between the individual and the object--the
beautiful thing appeals to the senses, its form is adapted to the
structure of the mind, its content is such as to win interest and
sympathy; the divine is believed to realize and quiet all of our
desires. But while in beauty we feel ourselves at home with the single
object, in religion we feel at rest in the universe.
When religion and art are separated from the other parts of life, as
they are fast becoming now, the peculiar quality of the experiences
which they offer can be rendered universal only by freely infusing it
everywhere, through faith, in the case of the one, through imaginative
re-creation, in the case of the other. The religious experience is a
seeming revelation of a perfect meaning in life as a whole; this meaning
must now be imparted to the details of life. By a free act of faith
the scattered and imperfect fragments must be built into a purposive
unity. The poisonous feeling of futility, will then be lost; each task,
no matter how petty or ineffectual, will become momentous as
contributing something toward the realization of a good beyond our
little existence; and we, however lowly, will find ourselves sublime
as instruments of destiny. There is nothing vain to him who believes.
And if the believer cannot build a meaning into history and social
life as he knows them empirically, he may extend them by faith in a
future life, through which his purposes will be given the promise of
eternity and the tie between parents and children, friends and lovers
and co-workers, an invincible seriousness and worth. Being at peace
with the universe, he may be reconciled to the accidents of his life
as expressions of its Will.
The method of reconciliation through religion can well be understood
by its effect on the attitude towards evil. To one who has faith in
the world as perfect, evil becomes an illusion that would disappear
to an adequate vision of the Divine. The supposedly evil thing becomes
really a good thing--a necessary means to the fulfillment of the divine
plan, either in the earthly progress of humanity or in the future life;
or if the more mystical types of religion provide the starting point,
where individuality itself is felt to be an illusion, a factor in the
self-realization of the Absolute. The evil thing remains, of course,
what it was, but the interpretation, and therefore the attitude towards
it, is transformed. Pain, sorrow, and misfortune become agents for the
quickening of the spirit, death a door opening to unending vistas.
The attitude of faith is not embodied in dogmatic and speculative
religious doctrines alone; for it finds expression in other beliefs--in
progress, in the possibility of a sunny social order, in the perpetuity
of human culture, in the peculiar mission of one's race or country.
Such beliefs are expressions primarily of faith, not of knowledge;
like religion, they are interpretations of life based on aspiration,
not on evidence; and through them men secure the same sort of
re-enforcement of motive, courage, and consolation that they derive
from the doctrines called religious. But the sphere of faith is wider
even than this; the almost instinctive belief that each man has in his
own longevity and success, the trust in the permanence of friendship
and love, the confidence in the unique value of one's work or
genius--these are also convictions founded more on desire than on
knowledge, and may function in the same way as religion in a man's
life.
The re-affirmation of life which art may inspire is independent of any
belief or faith about the world. It occurs rather through the
application to the objects and incidents of life of a spirit and
attitude borrowed from artistic creation and appreciation. It is a
generalization of the aesthetic point of view to cover life as well
as art; an attempt to bring beauty from art into the whole of life.
Although to-day works of art themselves are severed from direct contact
with the rest of life, something of the intention and method of the
artist may linger and be carried over into it. Art, the image of life,
may now serve as a model, after which the latter, in its turn, will
be patterned.
The spirit of art has two forms, one constructive, the other
contemplative, and both may be infused into life. When the former is
put there, each act and task is performed as if it were a work of art.
This involves "throwing the whole self" into it, not only thought and
patience, but enthusiasm and loving finish, even as the artist puts
them into his work, so that it becomes a happy self-expression. Nothing
shall interfere with or mar it, or spoil its value when recalled. The
imperfection and transiency of the result are then forgotten in the
inspiration of endeavor; and the work or act, no matter how
insignificant, becomes perfect as an experience and as a memory. The
generations may judge it as they will, but as an expression of the
energies of my own soul, it is divine. Of course, from the industry
of our time, where most work is mechanical and meaningless to him who
performs it, the spirit of art has largely fled. Yet there still remain
tasks which we all have to execute, if not in business, then at home,
which, by arousing our interest and invention, may become materials
for the spirit of art. We have at least our homes, our pleasures, our
relations with one another, our private adventures, where we can still
be free and genial and masterly. And for our work, art will continue
to be an ideal, sorrowfully appealing.
The scope of the spirit of art may be extended beyond the single task
or act to embrace the whole of one's life. Impulse offers a plastic
material to which form may be given. The principles of harmony, balance,
evolution, proper subordination, and perfection of detail, indispensable
to beauty in art, are conditions of happiness in life. The form of a
work of art and the form of a happy life are the same, as Plato
insisted. [Footnote: See, for example, _The Gorgias_, 503, 504.]
In order to yield satisfaction, the different parts of life must
exemplify identity of motive, continuity and orderliness in the
fulfillment of purpose, lucidity of relation, yet diversity for
stimulation and totality. There must be a selective scheme to absorb
what is congenial and reject the unfit. This sense for form in life
may lead to the same results as morality, but the point of departure
and the sanction are different. Morality is largely based on conformity,
on submission to the general will, and is rendered effective by fear
of public disapproval and supernatural taboos; while the aesthetic
direction of life has its roots in the love of form and meaning, and
its sanction in personal happiness. Moreover, to the reflective person,
looking before and after, life has the same sort of reality as a story,
and is bound to be judged in some measure like a story. The past and
the future live only in the imagination, and when we survey them there
they may please us with their interest, liveliness, and meaning, much
as a work of art would, or displease us with their vanity and chaos.
In this way personality may acquire an imaginative value fundamentally
aesthetic. This is different from moral value, which has reference to
the relation of a life to social ideals; it is more comprehensive than
the religious judgment, which is interested only in saving the soul;
because it includes every element of life,--sense, imagination, and
achievement, welcoming all, so long as they contribute something to
a significant, moving whole.
The feeling for perfection of form and imaginative meaning in life is
no invention of philosophers and aesthetes, but part of the normal
reaction to conduct. Everybody feels that certain acts, or even certain
wishes, are to be rejected by himself, not because they are
intrinsically bad or wrong, but because they are inconsistent with his
particular nature, and, on the other hand, that there are certain
interests that should be cultivated, not because they are universally
right or good, but because they are needed to give his life complete
meaning. And again, all except the meanest and most repressed souls
desire somewhat to shine, if not in the world at large, at least among
their friends, and act with a view to appearance and to some total
survey of their lives that would consider not merely its goodness or
usefulness, but its imaginative emotional appeal. This appeal is the
strongest on the death of a great man; this lives longest in the memory.
The love of the romantic and adventurous is partly instinctive, but
largely imaginative, for it has in view not merely the rapturous
pleasures of the hazardous moment, but the remembered delights of
recall and expression to others. The love of glory is also imaginative,
a feeling for the dramatic extending even beyond the grave. The
ambitious man seeks to make a story out of his life for posterity to
read and remember, just as the artist makes one out of fictitious
material. More might develop out of this love of form and drama in
life. We have it to a certain degree of cultivation in picturesque and
refined manners, dress, and ceremonial, but even there it is hampered
through conventionality and want of invention; further evolved and
extended into the deeper strata of life, it would lead to a more
interesting and productive existence. Surely, if God is an artist as
well as a judge, he will welcome into heaven not only those who have
lived well, but also those who have lived beautifully.
There is no necessity, finally, why the constructive spirit of art
should be confined to the personal life and should not, in some measure
at least, penetrate the community and even the state. By appealing to
imaginative feeling, the activities of various individuals and groups,
when coordinated and given a purposeful unity, produce an aesthetic
effect. The organization of a business or a university may easily come
to have such a value for one who has helped to create it, especially
if the place where the communal spirit operates is beautiful,--the
office, the campus, the shop. Seldom, to be sure, do we find this value
in our busy and haphazard America, but in many quarters the intention
to create it is awake. As for the state, it is, of course, too little
dominated by disinterested intelligence to be beautiful; yet Plato's
ideal of statecraft as a fine art still rules the innermost dream of
men.
The contemplative spirit of art is perhaps more important than the
constructive in its application to life. Not that any sharp line can
be drawn between them, for contemplation must always attend or follow
creation, to judge and enjoy; yet towards that part of life which we
cannot control, our attitude must be rather that of the spectator than
the creator. We cannot interfere with the greater part of life; we
can, however, observe it and, in the imagination, transform it, where
we can then envisage it as we should a work of art. As we watch it,
life itself may become beautiful, and instead of giving ourselves to
it half-heartedly and with reserve, we shall accept it with something
of the abandon of passionate love,--"In thee my soul hath her content
so absolute." To this end it is necessary to detach life from our more
selfish interests and ambitions, from the habits of thought, annoying
and preoccupying, that relate to self alone. To the worldly and self-
centered, life is interesting only so far as it refers to pride or
ambition or passion; otherwise it is indifferent, as none of their
concern. But to the religious and to the aesthetically minded, there
is no part of life that may not be of interest; to the former, because
they impute something of transcendent perfection to it all; to the
latter, because they have set themselves the inexhaustible task of its
free, imaginative appreciation.
To this end, it is also necessary, after learning to view life
objectively and impersonally, to attend to it leisurely and
responsively, as we should to a work of art, allowing full scope to
the disinterested feelings of curiosity, pity, sympathy, and wonder
to create emotional participation.
Then the world may become for us the most magnificent spectacle of
all. To imaginative feeling, every landscape is a potential painting,
every life-story a romance, history a drama, every man or woman a
statue or portrait. Beauty is everywhere, where we who are perhaps not
artists but only art lovers can find it; we cannot embody it in enduring
form or throw over it the glamour of sensuous loveliness, but we can
perceive it with that free appreciation that is the essence of art.
And for this, of course, the artists have prepared us; it is they who,
by first exhibiting life as beautiful in art, have shown us that it
may be beautiful as mirrored in the observing mind. One region after
another has been conquered by them. The poets and the painters created
the beauty of the mountains, of windmills and canals, of frozen wastes
and monotonous prairies, of peasants and factories and railway stations
and slums. Themselves the first to feel the value of these things,
through some personal attachment or communion with them, they have
made it universal through expression. Their works have become types
through which we apperceive and appreciate the world: we see French
landscapes as Lorrain and Corot saw them, peasants after the fashion
of Millet, the stage after Degas. In vain men have prophesied limits
to the victorious advance of art. Just at the time when, in the middle
of the last century, some men feared that science and industry had
banished beauty from the world, the impressionists and realists
disclosed it in factory and steamboat and mine. In this way modern
art, which might seem through its isolation to have taken beauty away
from the world to itself, has given it back again.
The spirit of art, no less than of religion, can help us to triumph
over the evils of life. There are three ways of treating evil
successfully: the practical way, to overcome it and destroy it; the
religious way, by faith to deny its existence; the aesthetic way, to
rebuild it in the imagination. The first is the way of all strong men;
but its scope is limited; for some of the evils of life are insuperable;
against these our only recourse is faith or the spirit of art. The
method of art consists in taking towards life itself the same attitude
that the artist takes towards his materials when he makes a comedy or
a tragedy out of them; life itself becomes the object of laughter or
of tragic pity and fear and admiration. As we observed in our chapter
on "The Problem of Evil in Aesthetics," laughter is an essentially
aesthetic attitude, for it implies the ability disinterestedly to face
a situation, although one which opposes our standards and expectations,
and to take pleasure in it. All sorts of personal feelings may be mixed
with laughter, bitterness and scorn and anger; but the fact that we
laugh shows that they are not dominant; in laughter we assert our
freedom from the yoke of circumstance and make it yield us pleasure
even when it thwarts us. Laughter celebrates a twofold victory, first
over ourselves, in that we do not allow our disappointments to spoil
our serenity, and second over the world, in that, even when it threatens
to render us unhappy, we prevent it. Fate may rob us of everything,
but not of freedom of spirit and laughter; oftentimes we must either
laugh or cry, but tears bring only relief, laughter brings merriment
as well.
Even with the devil laughter may effect reconciliation. Practical men
will try to destroy him, but so far they have not succeeded; men of
faith will prophesy his eventual ruin, but meanwhile we have to live
in his company; and how can we live there at peace with ourselves
unless with laughter at his antics and our own vain efforts to restrain
them? Surely the age-long struggle against him justifies us in making
this compromise for our happiness. We who in our lifetime cannot defeat
him can at least make him yield us this meed of laughter for our pains.
People who think that laughter at evil is a blasphemy against the good
set too high a valuation upon their conventions. No one can laugh
without possessing a standard, but to laugh is to recognize that life
is of more worth than any ideal and happiness better than any morality.
And if by laughter we cannot triumph over evil, we may perhaps achieve
this end by appreciating it as an element in tragedy or pathos. For
once we take a contemplative attitude towards life, foregoing praise
and blame, there is no spectacle equal to it for tragic pity and fear
and admiration. There is a heroism in life equal to any in art, in
which we may live imaginatively, and in so living forgive the evil
that is its necessary condition. Or, when life is pathetic rather than
tragic, suffering and fading and weak rather than strong and steady
and resisting, we may win insight from the pitiable reality into the
possible and ideal; the shadow of evil will suggest to us the light
of the good, and for this vision we shall bless life even when it
disappoints our hopes. The very precariousness of values, which is an
inevitable accompaniment of them, will serve to intensify their worth
for us; we shall be made the more passionately to love life, with the
joys that it offers us, because we so desperately realize its
transiency. Our knowledge of the inescapableness of death and failure
will quiet our laments, leaving us at least serene and resigned where
our struggles and protests would be unavailing. It is by thus
generalizing the point of view of art so that we adopt it towards our
own life that we secure the catharsis of tragedy. Instead of letting
sorrow overwhelm us, we may win self-possession through the struggle
against it; instead of feeling that there is nothing left when the
loved one dies, we may keep in memory a cherished image, more poignant
and beautiful because the reality is gone, and loving this we shall
love life also that has provided it.
Finally, in subtle ways, the influence of art, while remaining indirect,
may affect practical action in a more concrete fashion. For silently,
unobtrusively, when constantly attended to, a work of art will transform
the background of values out of which action springs. The beliefs and
sentiments expressed will be accepted not for the moment only,
aesthetically and playfully, but for always and practically; they will
become a part of our nature. The effect is not merely to enlarge the
scope of our sympathies by making us responsive, as all art does, to
every human aspiration, but rather to strengthen into resolves those
aspirations that meet in us an answering need. This influence is
especially potent during the early years of life, before the framework
of valuations has become fixed. What young man nursed on Shelley's
poetry has not become a lover of freedom and an active force against
all oppression? But even in maturer years art may work in this way.
One cannot live constantly with the "Hermes" of Praxiteles without
something of its serenity entering into one's soul to purge passion
of violence, or with Goethe's poetry without its wisdom making one
wise to live. The effect is not to cause any particular act, but so
to mold the mind that every act performed is different because of this
influence.
I would compare this influence to that of friends. Friends may, of
course, influence conduct directly and immediately through advice and
persuasion, but that is not the most important effect of their lives.
More important is the gradual diffusion of their attitudes and the
enlightenment following their example. Through living their experiences
with them, we come to adopt their valuations as our own; by observing
how they solve their problems, we get suggestions as to how to solve
ours. Art provides us with a companionship of the imagination, a new
friendship. The sympathetic touch with the life there expressed enlarges
our understanding of the problems and conditions of all life, and so
leads to a freer and wiser direction of our own. On the one hand new
and adventurous methods of living are suggested, and on the other hand
the eternal limits of action are enforced.
Once more I would compare the influence of art with that of religion.
The effect of religion upon conduct is partly due to the institutions
with which it is connected and the supernatural sanctions which it
attaches to the performance of duty; but partly also, and more
enduringly, to the stories of the gods. Now these stories, even when
believed, have an existence in the imagination precisely comparable
to that of works of art, and their influence upon sentiment is of
exactly the same order. They are most effective when beautiful, as the
legends of Christ and Buddha are beautiful; and they function by the
sympathetic transference of attitude from the story to the believer.
Even when no longer accepted as true their influence may persist, for
the values they embody lose none of their compulsion. And, although
as an interpretation of life based upon faith religion is doubtless
eternal, its specific forms are probably all fictitious; hence each
particular religion is destined to pass from the sphere of faith to
that of art. The Greek religion has long since gone there, and there
also a large part of our own will some day go--what is lost for faith
is retained for beauty.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
General Works
_English._
SANTAYANA, G. The Sense of Beauty, 1897; Reason in Art, 1906.
MUENSTERBERG, H. The Principles of Art Education, 1905; The
Eternal Values, Part 3, 1909.
LEE and THOMPSON. Beauty and Ugliness, 1911.
CARRITT, E. I. The Theory of Beauty, 1914.
KNIGHT, WM. The Philosophy of the Beautiful, Part 1, 1891;
Part 2, 1893.
PUFFER, ETHEL. The Psychology of Beauty, 1905.
BROWN, BALDWIN. The Fine Arts, 1892.
ROWLAND, E. The Significance of Art, 1913.
MARSHALL, R. Pain, Pleasure, and Aesthetics, 1894; Aesthetic
Principles, 1895.
SULLY, J., and ROBERTSON, G. C. Aesthetics.
BOSANQUET, B. History of Aesthetics, 1904; Three Lectures on
Aesthetics, 1914.
GORDON, KATE. Aesthetics, 1909.
_German._
LIPPS, T. Aesthetik, 1903-1905.
VOLKELT, J. System der Aesthetik, 1905-1914.
DESSOIR, M. Aesthetik und Allgemeine Kunstwissenschaft, 1906.
COHN, J. Allgemeine Aesthetik, 1901.
MEUMANN, E. Aesthetik der Gegenwart, 1912; System der
Aesthetik, 1914.
UTITZ, E. Grundlegung der Allgemeinen Kunstwissenschaft, Bd. 1,
1914.
MUELLER-FRIENFELS, R. Psychologic der Kunst, 1912.
WITASEK, S. Grundzuege der Allgemeinen Aesthetik, 1904.
GROOS, K. Der Aesthetische Genuss, 1902.
LANGE, K. Das Wesen der Kunst, 1901.
FIEDLER, C. Der Ursprung der Kuenstlerischen Thaetigkeit, 1901.
KANT, I. Kritik der Urteilskraft, 1790; English translation by
J. H. Bernard, 1892.
_French._
TAINE, H. The Philosophy of Art, English translation, 1867.
SULLY-PRUDHOMME, R. F. A. L'Expression dans les beaux arts, 1883.
GUYAU, J. M. Les problemes de l'estetique contemporaine, 1884;
L'Art au point de vue sociologique, 1889.
BRAY, L. Du Beau, 1902.
SEAILLES, G. Essai sur le genie en l'art, 1897.
SOURIAU, P. La suggestion en l'art, 1909.
LALO, CH. Les Sentiments esthetiques, 1910; Introduction
l'estetique, 1913.
DUSSAUZE, H. Les Regies estetiques et les lois du sentiment, 1911.
FONTAINE, A. Essai sur le principe et les lois de la critique d'art,
1909.
_Italian._
CROCE, B. Estetica, 1902; English translation, 1909; French
translation, 1904; German translation, 1905; Breviario di
estetica, 1913.
PILO, M. Estetica.
PORENA, M. Che cos' e il bello? 1905.
EXPERIMENTAL AESTHETICS
FECHNER, G. T. Vorschule der Aesthetik, 1876.
KUELPE, O. Der gegenwaertige Stand der experimentellen Aesthetik,
in Bericht ueber den 2ten Kongress fuer experimentelle
Psychologie, 1907.
STRATTON, G. M. Psychology and Culture, 1903.
VALENTINE, C. W. Experimental Psychology of Beauty.
MYERS, C. S. Introduction to Experimental Psychology, 1911.
WUNDT, WM. Physiological Psychology.
LALO, CH. L'Estetique experimentale contemporaine, 1908.
Works on the Origins of Art
HIRN, Y. The Origins of Art, 1900.
GROSSE, E. The Beginnings of Art, English translation, 1897.
WALLASCHEK, R. Primitive Music, 1903.
BUECHER, K. Arbeit und Rhythmus, 1899.
GUMMEBE, F. B. The Beginnings of Poetry, 1901.
GROOS, K. The Play of Man, 1901.
FRAZER, J. G. The Golden Bough, 1907-1915.
WUNDT, WM. Volkerpsychologie, 1911; Elements of Folk Psychology,
1916.
SPEARING, H. G. The Childhood of Art, 1913.
Additional References for Special Subjects
_Chapter Six.--The Tragic._
ARISTOTLE. Poetics.
CORNEILLE, P. Discours de la tragedie, 1660.
LESSING, G. E. Hamburgische Dramaturgic, 1767.
SCHOPENHAUER. The World as Will and Idea; English translation,
Vol. 1, Bk. 3; Vol. 3, Ch. 27.
HEGEL, G. W. F, Vorlesungen ueber die Aesthetik, 3ter Abschnitt,
3tes Kapitel.
HEBBEL, F. Ein Wort ueber das Drama, 1843.
LIPPS, T. Der Streit ueber die Tragoedie, 1891.
VOLKELT, J. Aesthetik des Tragischen, 1906; System der Aesthetik,
Bd. 2, 1910.
BRADLEY, A. C. Oxford Lectures on Poetry, 1909.
BUTCHER, S. H. Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and Fine Art, 1898.
NIETZSCHE, FR. Die Geburt der Tragoedie, 1870.
_Chapter Six.--The Comic._
LIPPS, T. Komik und Humor, 1898.
BERGSON, H. Laughter, English translation, 1913.
FREUD, S. Wit, and Its Relation to the Unconscious, English
translation, 1916.
MARTIN, L. J. Experimental Prospecting in the Fields of the
Comic, _American Journal of Psychology_, Vol. 16, 1905.
SCHOPENHAUER, A. The World as Will and Idea, English translation,
Vol. 2, Ch. 8.
VOLKELT, J. System der Aesthetik, Bd. 2, 1900.
SULLY, J. Essay on Laughter, 1902.
SPENCER, H. Physiology of Laughter, in _Essays, Scientific,
Political and Speculative_. SIDIS, B. Psychology of Laughter, 1913.
MEREDITH, GEORGE. An Essay on Comedy, 1897.
_Chapter Seven.--The Standard of Taste._
TAINE, H. The Ideal in Art, 1867.
LEMAITRE, J. Les Contemporains.
FRANCE, A. La Vie litteraire.
BRUNETIERE, FERD. Questions de critique, 1889.
BABBITT, IRVING. The New Laocoon, 1910.
GATES, L. E. Impressionism and Appreciation, in _The Atlantic
Monthly_, July, 1900.
BALFOUR, A. J. Criticism and Beauty, 1910.
PATER, WALTER. The Renaissance, 1873.
SYMONDS, J. A. Essays, Speculative and Suggestive, 1890.
CAINE, T. HALL. Cobwebs of Criticism, 1883.
HENNEQUIN, E. La Critique scientifique, 1888.
SPINGARN, J. E. Creative Criticism, 1917.
_Chapter Eight.--Music._
RIEMANN, H. Elemente der musikalischen Aesthetik, 1900.
HANSLICK, E. Vom Musikalisch-Schoenen, 11th ed., 1910.
GEHRING, A. The Basis of Musical Pleasure, 1910.
COMBARIEU, J. Music: Its Laws and Evolution, 1910.
GURNEY, E. The Power of Sound, 1880.
BUSONI, F. Sketch of a New Athetic of Music, 1911.
LALO, C. Esquisse d'une estetique musicale scientifique, 1908.
AMBROS, W. A. Die Grenzen der Musik und Poesie, 1872.
WAGNER, R. Das Kunstwerk der Zukunft; Oper und Drama.
STUMPF, C. Tonpsychologie, 1883, 1890, and articles in _Zeitschrift
fuer Psychologie._
HELMHOLTZ. Sensations of tone, 1895.
MEYER, MAX. Contributions to a Psychological Theory of Music,
_University of Missouri Studies_, 1901,1. No. 1;
The Psychology of Music, in _American Journal of
Psychology_, 1903: 14.
BINGHAM, W. VAN DYKE. Studies in Melody, 1910.
LIPPS. Zur Theorie der Melodie, in _Zeitschrift fuer
Psychologie_, 1902:27.
REVESZ, GEZA. Tonpsychologie, 1913.
SPENCER, H. The Origin and Function of Music.
BOLTON. Rhythm, in _American Journal of Psychology_, Vol. 6.
MEUMANN, E. Untersuchungen zur Psy. u. Aest. d. Rhythmus,
in _Philosophische Studien_, X.
STETSON, R. H. A Motor Theory of Rhythm and Discrete Succession,
in _Psychological Review_, Vol. 12.
_Chapter Nine_.--_Poetry_.
ARISTOTLE. Poetics.
SIDNEY, SIR PHILIP. Defense of Poesy, 1581.
WORDSWORTH, WM. Preface to the Lyrical Ballads, 1800.
SHELLEY, P. B. A Defense of Poetry, 1821.
BRADLEY, A. C. Oxford Lectures on Poetry, 1909.
SCOTT, F. N. The Most Fundamental Differentia of Poetry and
Prose, _Modern Language Association Publications_, V. 19, pp. 250-269,
MILL, J. S. Thoughts on Poetry and Its Varieties, in _Dissertations
and Discussions_, Vol. 1.
SANTAYANA, G. Elements of Poetry, in _Poetry and Religion_, 1900.
LANIER, S. Science of English Verse, 1880.
EASTMAN, MAX. The Enjoyment of Poetry.
SOURIAU, P. La Reverie esthetique, 1906.
LIDDELL, MARK H. An Introduction to the Study of Poetry, 1902.
WERNER, R. M. Lyrik und Lyriker, 1890.
LOWELL, AMY. Tendencies in Modern American Poetry, 1917.
GUMMERE, F. B. A Handbook of Poetics, 1895.
ROETTEKEN. Poetik, 1911.
BURKE, EDMUND. A Philosophical Enquiry into Our Ideas of the
Sublime and Beautiful, Part 4, 1756.
MACKAIL, J. W. Lectures on Poetry, 1911.
POE, E. A. The Philosophy of Composition; The Poetic Principle.
OMOND, T. S. A Study of Meter, 1903.
VERRIER, P. Metrique anglaise, 1909.
DILTHEY, W. Das Erlebnis und Die Dichtung, 1907.
STETSON, R. H. Rhythm and Rhyme, in _Harvard Psychological Studies_,
Vol. 1.
_Chapter Ten.--Prose Literature._
SCHOPENHAUER, A. The Art of Literature.
GOETHE AND SCHILLER. Correspondence, passim.
GREEN, T. H. The Value and Influence of Works of Fiction, 1862.
LEWES, G. H. Principles of Success in Literature, 1892.
ARNOLD, M. Essays in Criticism, 1869.
ZOLA, E. The Experimental Novel and Other Essays, translated by
B. M. Sherman, 1893.
BESANT, W., and JAMES, H. The Art of Fiction, 1885.
PATER, W. Appreciations, with an Essay on Style, 1889.
STEVENSON, R. L. On Style in Literature, in _Contemporary
Review_, 47:548.
BOURGET, P. Etudes et Portraits, 1911.
FLAUBERT, G. Correspondance, published 1887.
ELSTER, E. Prinzipien der Literaturwissenschaft, 1897, 1911.
FREITAG, G. Technique of the Drama, English translation, 1895.
MATTHEWS, J. B. A Study of the Drama, 1910.
JONES, H. A. The Foundations of a National Drama, 1913.
WOODBRIDGE, E. The Drama: Its Laws and Its Technique, 1898.
DE MAUPASSANT, GUY. Le Roman, in Pierre et Jean.
For additional references on Poetry and Prose, consult _An
Introduction to the Methods and Materials of Literary Criticism_,
by C. M. Gayley and F. N. Scott, 1899.
_Chapter Eleven.--Painting._
MEIER-GRAEFE, J. Modern Art, English translation, 1908.
ROSS, DENMON. A Theory of Pure Design, 1907; On Drawing and
Painting, 1912.
BERENSON, B. Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance.
POORE, H. R. Pictorial Composition, 1903.
VAN DYKE, J. C. Art for Art's Sake, 1895.
UTITZ, E. Grundzuege der Aesthetischen Farbenlehre, 1908.
WAETZOLDT, WM. Die Kunst des Portraets, 1908.
WEIGHT, WM. H. Modern Painting, 1915.
LIPPS, T. Aesthetik, Bd. 1, 5ter Abschnitt, Bd. 2, 7tes Kapitel.
GOETHE. Farbenlehre.
SOURIATJ, P. L'Estetique du mouvement, 1889.
STRATTON, G. M. Eye Movement, and the Aesthetics of Visual
Form, in Philosophische Studien, XX.
COHN, J. Experimented Untersuchungen ueber die Gefuehls-betonung
der Farben, in Philosophische Studien, 10: 522.
BAKER and CHOWN. Experiments on Color, in the University of
Toronto Studies.
LEE and THOMPSON. Beauty and Ugliness, in Contemporary Review, 1897.
CHEVREUL, M. E. The Principles of Harmony and Contrast of Colors, 1855.
_Chapter Twelve.--Sculpture._
HILDEBRAND, A. The Problem of Form in Painting and Sculpture,
English translation, 1907.
RODIN, A. Art, English translation, 1912.
HERDER, J. G. Plastik, 1778.
LIPPS, T. Aesthetik, Bd. 2, 5tes u. etes Kapitel.
LESSING. Laocoon, 1766.
CORNELIUS, H. Elementargesetze der bildenden Kunst, 1908.
_Chapter Thirteen.--Architecture._
LIPPS, T. Raumaesthetik, 1897; Aesthetik, Bd. 1, 1903.
SCOTT, G. The Architecture of Humanism, 1914.
ROBINSON, J. B. Architectural Composition, 1908.
VAN PELT, J. V. Essentials of Composition, 1913.
GUADET, J. Elements et theorie de l'architecture, 1909.
VIOLLET-LE-DUC, E. E. Entretiens sur l'architecture, 1863-72.
RUSKIN, J. Seven Lamps of Architecture, 1857.
FRANKL, P. Die Entwicklungsphasen der neueren Baukunst, 1914.
WORRINGER, W. Formprobleme der Gothik, 1912.
WOELFFUN, H. Renaissance und Barock, 1888.
_Chapter Fourteen.--Art and Morality._
PLATO. Republic, Ion, Phaedrus, Symposium, Gorgias.
TOLSTOY, L. What is Art? English translation, 1899.
SCHILLER, F. Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man, 1793-1795.
MORRIS, WM. Hopes and Fears for Art, 1882.
WILDE, O., MORRIS, WM., and OWEN, W. C. The Soul of Man,
The Socialist Ideal--Art, and The Coming Solidarity.
RUSKIN, J. Lectures on Art, 1900.
SYMONDS, J. A. Essays, Speculative and Suggestive, 1890.
PAULHAN, FR. Le Mensonge de l'Art, 1907.
WHISTLER, J. McN. Ten o'Clock, 1888.
GUYAU, J. M. L'Art au point de vue sociologique, 1889.
CASSAGNE, A. La theorie de l'art pour l'art en France, 1906.
_Chapter Fifteen.--Art and Religion._
LANG, A. Myth, Ritual, and Religion, 1913.
DELLA SETA, A. Religion and Art, 1914.
HARRISON, J. Ancient Art and Ritual, 1913.
MURRAY, G. Four Stages of Greek Religion, 1912.
REINACH, S. Orpheus, 1909.
SANTAYANA, G. Poetry and Religion, 1900.
FRAZER, J. G. The Golden Bough.
HEGEL, G. W. F. Introduction to the Philosophy of Fine Art,
translated by Bosanquet, 1886.
MUENSTERBERG, H. Philosophie der Werte, 1908.
WUNDT, WM. Volkerpsychologie, 1911.
SANTAYANA, G. Three Philosophical Poets, 1910.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Principles Of Aesthetics, by Dewitt H. Parker