Whilst man, in his first physical condition, is only passively affected
by the world of sense, he is still entirely identified with it; and for
this reason the external world, as yet, has no objective existence for
him. When he begins in his aesthetic state of mind to regard the world
objectively, then only is his personality severed from it, and the world
appears to him an objective reality, for the simple reason that he has
ceased to form an identical portion of it.
That which first connects man with the surrounding universe is the power
of reflective contemplation. Whereas desire seizes at once its object,
reflection removes it to a distance and renders it inalienably her own by
saving it from the greed of passion. The necessity of sense which he
obeyed during the period of mere sensations, lessens during the period of
reflection; the senses are for the time in abeyance; even ever-fleeting
time stands still whilst the scattered rays of consciousness are
gathering and shape themselves; an image of the infinite is reflected
upon the perishable ground. As soon as light dawns in man, there is no,
longer night outside of him; as soon as there is peace within him the
storm lulls throughout the universe, and the contending forces of nature
find rest within prescribed limits. Hence we cannot wonder if ancient
traditions allude to these great changes in the inner man as to a
revolution in surrounding nature, and symbolize thought triumphing over
the laws of time, by the figure of Zeus, which terminates the reign of
Saturn.
As long as man derives sensations from a contact with nature, he is her
slave; but as soon as he begins to reflect upon her objects and laws he
becomes her lawgiver. Nature, which previously ruled him as a power, now
expands before him as an object. What is objective to him can have no
power over him, for in order to become objective it has to experience his
own power. As far and as long as he impresses a form upon matter, he
cannot be injured by its effect; for a spirit can only be injured by that
which deprives it of its freedom. Whereas he proves his own freedom by
giving a form to the formless; where the mass rules heavily and without
shape, and its undefined outlines are for ever fluctuating between
uncertain boundaries, fear takes up its abode; but man rises above any
natural terror as soon as he knows how to mould it, and transform it into
an object of his art. As soon as he upholds his independence towards
phenomenal natures he maintains his dignity toward her as a thing of
power, and with a noble freedom he rises against his gods. They throw
aside the mask with which they had kept him in awe during his infancy,
and to his surprise his mind perceives the reflection of his own image.
The divine monster of the Oriental, which roams about changing the world
with the blind force of a beast of prey, dwindles to the charming outline
of humanity in Greek fable; the empire of the Titans is crushed, and
boundless force is tamed by infinite form.
But whilst I have been merely searching for an issue from the material
world, and a passage into the world of mind, the bold flight of my
imagination has already taken me into the very midst of the latter world.
The beauty of which we are in search we have left behind by passing from
the life of mere sensations to the pure form and to the pure object.
Such a leap exceeds the condition of human nature; in order to keep pace
with the latter we must return to the world of sense.
Beauty is indeed the sphere of unfettered contemplation and reflection;
beauty conducts us into the world of ideas, without however taking us
from the world of sense, as occurs when a truth is perceived and
acknowledged. This is the pure product of a process of abstraction from
everything material and accidental, a pure object free from every
subjective barrier, a pure state of self-activity without any admixture
of passive sensations. There is indeed a way back to sensation from the
highest abstraction; for thought teaches the inner sensation, and the
idea of logical or moral unity passes into a sensation of sensual accord.
But if we delight in knowledge we separate very accurately our own
conceptions from our sensations; we look upon the latter as something
accidental, which might have been omitted without the knowledge being
impaired thereby, without truth being less true. It would, however, be a
vain attempt to suppress this connection of the faculty of feeling with
the idea of beauty, consequently, we shall not succeed in representing to
ourselves one as the effect of the other, but we must look upon them both
together and reciprocally as cause and effect. In the pleasure which we
derive from knowledge we readily distinguish the passage from the active
to the passive state, and we clearly perceive that the first ends when
the second begins. On the contrary, from the pleasure which we take in
beauty, this transition from the active to the passive is not
perceivable, and reflection is so intimately blended with feeling that we
believe we feel the form immediately. Beauty is then an object to us, it
is true, because reflection is the condition of the feeling which we have
of it; but it is also a state of our personality (our Ego) because the
feeling is the condition of the idea we conceive of it: beauty is
therefore doubtless form, because we contemplate it, but it is equally
life because we feel it. In a word, it is at once our state and our act.
And precisely because it is at the same time both a state and an act, it
triumphantly proves to us that the passive does not exclude the active,
neither matter nor form, neither the finite nor the infinite; and that
consequently the physical dependence to which man is necessarily devoted
does not in any way destroy his moral liberty. This is the proof of
beauty, and I ought to add that this alone can prove it. In fact, as in
the possession of truth or of logical unity, feeling is not necessarily
one with the thought, but follows it accidentally; it is a fact which
only proves that a sensitive nature can succeed a rational nature, and
vice versa; not that they co-exist, that they exercise a reciprocal
action one over the other; and, lastly, that they ought to be united in
an absolute and necessary manner. From this exclusion of feeling as long
as there is thought, and of thought so long as there is feeling, we
should on the contrary conclude that the two natures are incompatible, so
that in order to demonstrate that pure reason is to be realized in
humanity, the best proof given by the analysis is that this realization
is demanded. But, as in the realization of beauty or of aesthetic unity,
there is a real union, mutual substitution of matter and of form, of
passive and of active, by this alone is proved the compatibility of the
two natures, the possible realization of the infinite in the finite, and
consequently also the possibility of the most sublime humanity.
Henceforth we need no longer be embarrassed to find a transition from
dependent feeling to moral liberty, because beauty reveals to us the fact
that they can perfectly coexist, and that to show himself a spirit, man
need not escape from matter. But if on one side he is free, even in his
relation with a visible world, as the fact of beauty teaches, and if on
the other side freedom is something absolute and supersensuous, as its
idea necessarily implies, the question is no longer how man succeeds in
raising himself from the finite to the absolute, and opposing himself in
his thought and will to sensuality, as this has already been produced in
the fact of beauty. In a word, we have no longer to ask how he passes
from virtue to truth which is already included in the former, but how he
opens a way for himself from vulgar reality to aesthetic reality, and
from the ordinary feelings of life to the perception of the beautiful.