The philosophy of life, and philosophy of language, in a course of lectures

by Friedrich von Schlegel

Even poetry is no fourth art alongside of the other three. It does not stand on the same line with and form, as it were, the complement of their number. It is rather the universal symbolical art which comprises and combines in different mediums all those other exhibitive arts of the beautiful. In its rhythm and other metrical aids it possesses all the charms of a music in words; in its figurative diction it maintains an endless succession of shifting pictures in the vivid coloring of diversified illustration; while in its entire structure (which must be neither purely historical, nor logical, or even rhetorical) it strives to attain, by a beautiful organic development and disposition of its parts, to an arrangement of the whole both architecturally great and correct.

Poetry owes in every instance its first creative beginning to some great and singular ray of light from symbolical tradition, which, at the same time, illuminates the noble and memorable past, and points forward to the dark and mystical future. For it would be difficult to produce one among the great epic poems of antiquity that does not contain this poetico-prophetic element, and does not touch upon the profound mysteries of both worlds. The next and middle step is occupied by the poetry of sentiment and feeling—that music of the soul or poesy of song in which the calm deep longings and the wild tearing passions of the moment, once plunged and glorified in that immortal element, become eternal. But the height of perfection in the organic development of poetry is marked by the drama. This third and highest form of poetical art has for its subject-matter the whole struggle of human life, which in its vivid representations it aims to realize, and, as it were, to bring bodily before our eyes.

There exists an obvious analogy between the several constituents, as well as the different species or kinds of poetry and the three material arts of the beautiful. As the latter are symbolical throughout in the subject no less than in the manner and design of their manifestations, so also, but in a far higher degree, is poetry, as the art which embraces all the three in its own sphere. And this was the end to which I wished to arrive, inasmuch as the symbolical significance of the whole of life is the very point which at present claims our attention. For it bears intimately on the conclusion which I attempted to establish in my last Lecture. It was there my endeavor to prove that the supreme science, which is essentially identical with a divine faith, may be actually applied to life, be really brought in unison with it, and become transformed into a living and real existence. But this can only be accomplished by a symbolical process, or in other words, the symbolical signification of life is either itself the basis, or else an indispensable condition of, and inevitable transition-point toward, such a union and its accomplishment.

But in the arts which portray the beautiful, this symbolical significance and property is most distinctly prominent; here it is most easily understood and most universally recognized. On this account I have chosen this subject, as forming the natural transition and connecting link between the previous and the following Lectures. No doubt the æsthetical portion of man’s constitution and life is in itself sufficiently remarkable and attractive, and rich and important enough in its effects and consequences, to vindicate for itself such an episode, and to claim for it a place in philosophical speculation. For it shows that that fundamental law of psychological science and triple principle of division of the human consciousness into spirit, soul, and sense, admits also of application in this domain also, and may serve to confirm the whole theory and way of thinking. The further prosecution, however, of this elementary view or sketch of art would carry me beyond my present limits. For the aim of that philosophy of which I am attempting to give an exposition is directed to life itself—as well the inner life of the individual as the public life (and in the present place, also, its symbolical relation or signification)—which is so inseparably and intimately connected with the investigation into the divine foundation of life and the divine direction which ought to be imparted to it.

It can easily be shown that education as well as art is essentially symbolical. Such, indeed, must be the character of the education, whether public or private, of the whole rising generation, unless it is to degenerate into an ordinary mechanical system. And it is even in this quality principally that we are disposed to place the distinction between an unspiritual education, which, even though in the sternness of its morality it may defy censure, yet eventually proves barren and mortal, and one more solid and more conformable to human nature, which, less pretending in the outset, is even the more lasting in its effects.

The ready susceptibility of the youthful mind for every thing symbolical that lies within its reach, and its vivid perception of its meaning, might be clearly enough shown by instancing some of the ordinary amusements of boyhood and youth. How commonly, in these years, are the various occupations, pursuits, and circumstances of real and, to them, still future life, childishly, perhaps, but still ingeniously imitated, or, rather, anticipated! And how lasting an influence does this frequently make on their little society! What various but lasting traces does it often leave on their minds, more perhaps than many hours of study, especially if in the latter the usual system of overloading the young mind defeats its own end. Play, indeed, must not become the mere pastime of idleness, for it is only by its alternation with labor and the sternness of discipline that it continues to be a recreation and a pleasure.

And, indeed, the earnestness, the labor, and the sterner part in this whole business and matter of education, as mixed and composed of two opposite elements, of the serious and the sportive, is highly capable of receiving so spiritual a reference and vital a significance. And if all education be nothing else than a preparation for the future, and the state of this preparation, then it must be self-evident that too many or enough of such vivid references and spiritual allusions to a future life, either generally or to any particular phase of it that may chiefly be had in view, can not be introduced into education and its serious and sportive elements and pursuits. For it is only by this method that the susceptibilities of youth and the youthful fancy can be vividly excited and thoroughly impressed with the fundamental design and significance of the whole of life—a result which no mere dry definition of the future state, or generally of any “destination of man” on the dusty road of logic, will ever attain to.

It is nowise singular if this symbolical property and disposition of human nature announces itself as distinctly in the earliest development and in the most perfect of the productions of artistic genius, whether we take into consideration the whole existing state of mankind, or his original and essential constitution relatively to the world and to God. We have already remarked, on more than one occasion, that man, as soon as he was deprived of those higher faculties which he had abused to his ruin, fell thereby more entirely than would seem originally to have been the case, under the dominion of figurative fancy, and that, consequently, his whole nature and consciousness became greatly changed from what it was at the beginning. If man did at the very first possess the faculty and the power to communicate his thoughts to others inwardly by a mere operation of his will, and without having recourse to the external medium of words, he no longer enjoys this privilege; and if any wonderful phenomena in any way resembling thereto be now found, they only form so many remarkable exceptions, instead of making the rule of human life and consciousness as they now are. As at present constituted, man feels that his state is pre-eminently symbolical: he sees in symbolism a necessary requirement for his earthly pursuits—a substitute for those immediate powers of cogitation which he has lost. And all this is true, independently of any use he may freely choose to make of symbols for the higher purposes of spiritual life.

Man, at the beginning, was placed on this earth as its first-born son, in the midst of the telluric universe, or, in other words, in the center of a planetary world akin to and similar to his own. Now, whatever may be the case, or whatever it may be allowable to think of any other of the starry spheres—though in the invisible world of spirits all perhaps is more immediately full of and instinct with essence, and is not veiled in material emblems, this is not the case with this earth. Terrestial nature, in all its organic productions and warring elements of life, is throughout symbolical. Man, therefore, viewed from this position of his earthly habitation, is surrounded by a symbolical world of sensuous emblems. And if we can, or, rather, if we will, believe the grand intimation with which revelation opens, the first and highest destination of man is even symbolical—to be the Divine image.

If, now, all the natural wants and properties of man are symbolical—if such be his present state in the midst of creation—his whole position in the mundane system, and his high and heavenly destination, can we, or, rather, ought we, to wonder if even religion presents itself for the most part clothed in a symbolical garb? For this is the case, not merely with that which was the wild upgrowth of a poetical and purely imaginative heathenism, but also the old, original, and pure religion of nature—as the first love devoting itself for sacrifice—the second revelation of God. And so we find it to have been in the old world, or, as it is otherwise called, the old covenant. Here the first twilight of faith was yet studded with all the starry splendor of the whole symbolical creation, as it were with the brilliant diadem of nature’s most glorious images. And even the new era of the ascending and brightening dawn still bears on its front the glittering morning-star of art.