LETTER XV.

I approach continually nearer to the end to which I lead you, by a path

offering few attractions. Be pleased to follow me a few steps further,

and a large horizon will open up to you, and a delightful prospect will

reward you for the labor of the way.

The object of the sensuous instinct, expressed in a universal conception,

is named Life in the widest acceptation; a conception that expresses all

material existence and all that is immediately present in the senses.

The object of the formal instinct, expressed in a universal conception,

is called shape or form, as well in an exact as in an inexact

acceptation; a conception that embraces all formal qualities of things

and all relations of the same to the thinking powers. The object of the

play instinct, represented in a general statement, may therefore bear the

name of living form; a term that serves to describe all aesthetic

qualities of phenomena, and what people style, in the widest sense,

beauty.

Beauty is neither extended to the whole field of all living things nor

merely enclosed in this field. A marble block, though it is and remains

lifeless, can nevertheless become a living form by the architect and

sculptor; a man, though he lives and has a form, is far from being a

living form on that account. For this to be the case, it is necessary

that his form should be life, and that his life should be a form. As

long as we only think of his form, it is lifeless, a mere abstraction; as

long as we only feel his life, it is without form, a mere impression. It

is only when his form lives in our feeling, and his life in our

understanding, he is the living form, and this will everywhere be the

case where we judge him to be beautiful.

But the genesis of beauty is by no means declared because we know how to

point out the component parts, which in their combination produce beauty.

For to this end it would be necessary to comprehend that combination

itself, which continues to defy our exploration, as well as all mutual

operation between the finite and the infinite. The reason, on

transcendental grounds, makes the following demand: There shall be a

communion between the formal impulse and the material impulse--that is,

there shall be a play instinct--because it is only the unity of reality

with the form, of the accidental with the necessary, of the passive state

with freedom, that the conception of humanity is completed. Reason is

obliged to make this demand, because her nature impels her to

completeness and to the removal of all bounds; while every exclusive

activity of one or the other impulse leaves human nature incomplete and

places a limit in it. Accordingly, as soon as reason issues the mandate,

"a humanity shall exist," it proclaims at the same time the law, "there

shall be a beauty." Experience can answer us if there is a beauty, and

we shall know it as soon as she has taught us if a humanity can exist.

But neither reason nor experience can tell us how beauty can be and how a

humanity is possible.

We know that man is neither exclusively matter nor exclusively spirit.

Accordingly, beauty as the consummation of humanity, can neither be

exclusively mere life, as has been asserted by sharp-sighted observers,

who kept too close to the testimony of experience, and to which the taste

of the time would gladly degrade it; Nor can beauty be merely form, as

has been judged by speculative sophists, who departed too far from

experience, and by philosophic artists, who were led too much by the

necessity of art in explaining beauty; it is rather the common object of

both impulses, that is of the play instinct. The use of language

completely justifies this name, as it is wont to qualify with the word

play what is neither subjectively nor objectively accidental, and yet

does not impose necessity either externally or internally. As the mind

in the intuition of the beautiful finds itself in a happy medium between

law and necessity, it is, because it divides itself between both,

emancipated from the pressure of both. The formal impulse and the

material impulse are equally earnest in their demands, because one

relates in its cognition to things in their reality and the other to

their necessity; because in action the first is directed to the

preservation of life, the second to the preservation of dignity, and

therefore both to truth and perfection. But life becomes more

indifferent when dignity is mixed up with it, and duty no longer coerces

when inclination attracts. In like manner the mind takes in the reality

of things, material truth, more freely and tranquilly as soon as it

encounters formal truth, the law of necessity; nor does the mind find

itself strung by abstraction as soon as immediate intuition can accompany

it. In one word, when the mind comes into communion with ideas, all

reality loses its serious value because it becomes small; and as it comes

in contact with feeling, necessity parts also with its serious value

because it is easy.

But perhaps the objection has for some time occurred to you, Is not the

beautiful degraded by this, that it is made a mere play? and is it not

reduced to the level of frivolous objects which have for ages passed

under that name? Does it not contradict the conception of the reason and

the dignity of beauty, which is nevertheless regarded as an instrument of

culture, to confine it to the work of being a mere play? and does it not

contradict the empirical conception of play, which can coexist with the

exclusion of all taste, to confine it merely to beauty?

But what is meant by a mere play, when we know that in all conditions of

humanity that very thing is play, and only that is play which makes man

complete and develops simultaneously his twofold nature? What you style

limitation, according to your representation of the matter, according to

my views, which I have justified by proofs, I name enlargement.

Consequently I should have said exactly the reverse: man is serious only

with the agreeable, with the good, and with the perfect, but he plays

with beauty. In saying this we must not indeed think of the plays that

are in vogue in real life, and which commonly refer only to his material

state. But in real life we should also seek in vain for the beauty of

which we are here speaking. The actually present beauty is worthy of the

really, of the actually present play-impulse; but by the ideal of beauty,

which is set up by the reason, an ideal of the play-instinct is also

presented, which man ought to have before his eyes in all his plays.

Therefore, no error will ever be incurred if we seek the ideal of beauty

on the same road on which we satisfy our play-impulse. We can

immediately understand why the ideal form of a Venus, of a Juno, and of

an Apollo, is to be sought not at Rome, but in Greece, if we contrast the

Greek population, delighting in the bloodless athletic contests of

boxing, racing, and intellectual rivalry at Olympia, with the Roman

people gloating over the agony of a gladiator. Now the reason pronounces

that the beautiful must not only be life and form, but a living form,

that is, beauty, inasmuch as it dictates to man the twofold law of

absolute formality and absolute reality. Reason also utters the decision

that man shall only play with beauty, and he shall only play with beauty.

For, to speak out once for all, man only plays when in the full meaning

of the word he is a man, and he is only completely a man when he plays.

This proposition, which at this moment perhaps appears paradoxical, will

receive a great and deep meaning if we have advanced far enough to apply

it to the twofold seriousness of duty and of destiny. I promise you that

the whole edifice of aesthetic art and the still more difficult art of

life will be supported by this principle. But this proposition is only

unexpected in science; long ago it lived and worked in art and in the

feeling of the Greeks, her most accomplished masters; only they removed

to Olympus what ought to have been preserved on earth. Influenced by the

truth of this principle, they effaced from the brow of their gods the

earnestness and labor which furrow the cheeks of mortals, and also the

hollow lust that smoothes the empty face. They set free the ever serene

from the chains of every purpose, of every duty, of every care, and they

made indolence and indifference the envied condition of the godlike race;

merely human appellations for the freest and highest mind. As well the

material pressure of natural laws as the spiritual pressure of moral laws

lost itself in its higher idea of necessity, which embraced at the same

time both worlds, and out of the union of these two necessities issued

true freedom. Inspired by this spirit the Greeks also effaced from the

features of their ideal, together with desire or inclination, all traces

of volition, or, better still, they made both unrecognizable, because

they knew how to wed them both in the closest alliance. It is neither

charm, nor is it dignity, which speaks from the glorious face of Juno

Ludovici; it is neither of these, for it is both at once. While the

female god challenges our veneration, the godlike woman at the same time

kindles our love. But while in ecstacy we give ourselves up to the

heavenly beauty, the heavenly self-repose awes us back. The whole form

rests and dwells in itself--a fully complete creation in itself--and as

if she were out of space, without advance or resistance; it shows no

force contending with force, no opening through which time could break

in. Irresistibly carried away and attracted by her womanly charm, kept

off at a distance by her godly dignity, we also find ourselves at length

in the state of the greatest repose, and the result is a wonderful

impression for which the understanding has no idea and language no name.

Aesthetical Essays of Friedrich Schiller · 第 27 / 57 题