Even Feeling itself, the highest principle of our existence, accepts the objective dogma of Philosophy, that Humanity is subject to the order of the external world. And Imagination on still stronger grounds must accept the same law. The ideal must always be subordinate to the real; otherwise feebleness as well as extravagance is the consequence. The statesman who endeavours to improve the existing order, must first study it as it exists. And the poet, although his improvements are but imagined, and are not supposed capable of realization, must do likewise. True in his fictions he will transcend the limits of the possible, while the statesman will keep within those limits; but both have the same point of departure; both begin by studying the actual facts with which they deal. In our artificial improvements we should never aim at anything more than wise modification of the natural order; we should never attempt to subvert it. And though Imagination has a wider range for its pictures, they are yet subject to the same fundamental law, imposed by Philosophy upon Polity and Poetry alike. Even in the most poetic ages this law has always been recognized, only the external world was interpreted then in a way very differently from now. We see the same thing every day in the mental growth of the child. As his notions of fact change, his fictions are modified in conformity with these changes.
But while Poetry depends upon Philosophy for the principles on which its types are constructed, it influences Polity by the direction which it gives to those types. In every operation that man undertakes, he must imagine before he executes, as he must observe before he imagines. He can never produce a result which he has not conceived first in his own mind. In the simplest application of mechanics or geometry he finds it necessary to form a mental type, which is always more perfect than the reality which it precedes and prepares. Now none but those who confound poetry with verse-making can fail to see that this conception of a type is the same thing as esthetic imagination, under its simplest and most general aspect. Its application to social phenomena, which constitute the chief sphere both of Art and of Science, is very imperfectly understood as yet, and can hardly be said to have begun, owing to the want of any true theory of society. The real object of so applying it is, that it should regulate the formation of social Utopias; subordinating them to the laws of social development as revealed by history. Utopias are to the Art of social life what geometrical and mechanical types are to their respective arts. In these their necessity is universally recognized; and surely the necessity cannot be less in problems of such far greater intricacy. Accordingly we see that, notwithstanding the empirical condition in which political art has hitherto existed, every great change has been ushered in, one or two centuries beforehand, by an Utopia bearing some analogy to it. It was the product of the esthetic genius of Humanity working under an imperfect sense of its conditions and requirements. Positivism, far from laying an interdict on Utopias, tends rather to facilitate their employment and their influence, as a normal element in society. Only, as in the case of all other products of imagination, they must always remain subordinated to the actual laws of social existence. And thus by giving a systematic sanction to this the Poetry, as it may be called, of Politics, most of the dangers which now surround it will disappear. Its present extravagances arise simply from the absence of some philosophical principle to control it, and therefore there is no reason for regarding them with great severity.
The whole of this theory may be summed up in the double meaning of the word so admirably chosen to designate our esthetic functions. The word Art is a remarkable instance of the popular instinct from which language proceeds, and which is far more enlightened than educated persons are apt to suppose. It indicates, however vaguely, a sense of the true position of Poetry, midway between Philosophy and Polity, but with a closer relation to the latter. True, in the case of the technical arts the improvements proposed are practically realized, while those of the fine arts remain imaginary. Poetry, however, does produce one result of an indirect but most essential kind; it does actually modify our moral nature. If we include oratory, which is only Poetry in a simpler phase, though often worthless enough, we find its influence exerted in a most difficult and critical task, that of arousing or calming our passions; and this not arbitrarily, but in accordance with the fixed laws of their action. Here it has always been recognized as a moral agency of great power. On every ground, then, Poetry seems more closely related to practical than to speculative life. For its practical results are of the most important and comprehensive nature. Whatever the utility of other arts, material, physical, or intellectual, they are only subsidiary or preparatory to that which in Poetry is the direct aim, moral improvement. In the Middle Ages it was common in all Western languages to speak of it as a Science, the proper meaning of the word Science being then very imperfectly understood. But as soon as both artistic and scientific genius had become more fully developed, their distinctive features were more clearly recognized, and finally the name of Art was appropriated to the whole class of poetic functions. The fact is, at all events, an argument in favour of the Positive theory of idealization, as standing midway between theoretical inquiry and practical result.
Art calls each element of our nature into harmonious action
Evidently, then, it is in Art that the unity of human natures finds its most complete and most natural representation. For Art is in direct relation with the three orders of phenomena by which human nature is characterized; Feelings, Thoughts, and Actions. It originates in Feeling; the proof of this is even more obvious than in the case of Philosophy and Polity. It has its basis in Thought, and its end is Action. Hence its power of exerting an influence for good alike on every phase of our existence, whether personal or social. Hence too its peculiar attribute of giving equal pleasure to all ranks and ages. Art invites the thinker to leave his abstractions for the study of real life; it elevates the practical man into a region of thought where self-love has no place. By its intermediate position it promotes the mutual reaction of Affection and Reason. It stimulates feeling in those who are too much engrossed with intellectual questions: it strengthens the contemplative faculty in natures where sympathy predominates. It has been said of Art that its province is to hold a mirror to nature. The saying is usually applied to social life where its truth is most apparent. But it is no less true of every aspect of our existence; for under every aspect it may be a source of Art, and may be represented and modified by it. Turning to Biology for the cause of this sociological relation, we find it in the relation of the muscular and nervous systems. Our motions, involuntary at first, and then voluntary, indicate internal impressions, moral impressions more especially; and as they proceed from them, so they react upon them. Here we find the first germ of a true theory of Art. Throughout the animal kingdom language is simply gesticulation of a more or less expressive kind. And with man esthetic development begins in the same spontaneous way.
Three stages in the esthetic process: Imitation, Idealization, Expression
With this primary principle we may now complete our statical theory of Art, by indicating in it three distinct degrees or phases. The fine arts have been divided into imitative and inventive; but this distinction has no real foundation. Art always imitates, and always idealizes. True, as the real is in every case the source of the ideal, Art begins at first with simple Imitation. In the childhood, whether of men or of the race, as also with the lower animals, servile imitation, and that of the most insignificant actions, is the only symptom of esthetic capacity. No representation, however, has at present any claim to the title of Art (although from motives of puerile vanity the name is often given to it), except so far as it is made more beautiful, that is to say, more perfect. The representation thus becomes in reality more faithful, because the principal features are brought prominently forward, instead of being obscured by a mass of unmeaning detail. This it is which constitutes Idealization; and from the time of the great masterpieces of antiquity, it has become more and more the characteristic feature of esthetic productions. But in recognizing the superiority of Idealization as the second stage of Art, we must not forget the necessity of its first stage, Imitation. Without it neither the origin nor the nature of Art could be correctly understood.
In addition to the creative process, which is the chief characteristic of Art, there is a third function which, though not absolutely necessary in its imitative stage, becomes in its ideal stage. I mean the function of Expression strictly so called, without which the product of imagination could not be communicated to others. Language, whether it be the Language of sound or form, is the last stage of the esthetic operation, and it does not always bear a due proportion to the inventive faculty. When it is too defective, the sublimest creations may be ranked lower than they deserve, owing to the failure of the poet to communicate his thought completely. Great powers of style may, on the other hand, confer unmerited reputation, which however does not endure. An instance of this is the preference that was given for so long a time to Racine over Corneille.
So long as Art is confined to Imitation, no special language is required; imitation is itself the substitute for language. But as soon as the representation has become idealized by heightening some features and suppressing or altering others, it corresponds to something which exists only in the mind of the composer; and its communication to the world requires additional labour devoted exclusively to Expression. In this final process so necessary to the complete success of his work, the poet moulds his signs upon his inward type; just as he began at first by adapting them to external facts. So far there is some truth in Grétry’s principle that song is derived from speech by the intermediate stage of declamation. The same principle has been applied to all the special arts; it might also be applied to Poetry, oratory being the link between verse and prose. These views, however, are somewhat modified by the historical spirit of Positive Philosophy. We must invert Grétry’s relation of cause and effect; at least when we are considering those primitive times, when Art and Language first arose together.