The Journal of Speculative Philosophy, Vol. I, Nos. 1-4, 1867

by Various

These pretended characters, says he, represent only unhealthiness of spirit, and feebleness of soul. Now true and healthy art does not represent what is false and sickly, what lacks consistency and decision, but that which is true, healthy and strong. The ideal, in a word, is the idea realized; man can realize it only as a free person, that is to say, by displaying all the energy and constancy which can make it triumph.

We shall find more than once, in the course of the work, the same ideas developed with the same force and precision.

That which constitutes the very ground of the ideal is the inmost essence of things, especially the lofty conceptions of the spirit, and the development of the powers of the soul. These ideas are manifest in an action in which are placed upon the scene the grand interests of life, the passions of the human heart, the will and the character of actors. But this action is itself developed in the midst of an external nature which, moreover, lends to the ideal, colors and a determinate form. These external surroundings must also be conceived and fashioned in the meaning of the ideal, according to the laws of regularity, symmetry, and harmony, of which mention has been made above. How ought man to be represented in his relations with external nature? How ought this prose of life to be idealized? If art, in fact, frees man from the wants of material life, it cannot, however, elevate him above the conditions of human existence, and suppress these connections.

Hegel devotes a special examination to this new phase of the question of the ideal, which he designates by this title—Of the external determination of the ideal.

In our days we have given an exaggerated importance to this external side, which we have made the principal object. We are too unmindful that art should represent the ideas and sentiments of the human soul, that this is the true ground of its works. Hence all these minute descriptions, this external care given to the picturesque element or to the local color, to furniture, to costumes, to all those artificial means employed to disguise the emptiness and insignificance of the subject, the absence of ideas, the falsity of the situations, the feebleness of the characters, and the improbability of the action.

Nevertheless, this side has its place in art, and should not be neglected. It gives clearness, truthfulness, life, and interest to its works, by the secret sympathy which exists between man and nature. It is characteristic of the great masters to represent nature with perfect truthfulness. Homer is an example of this. Without forgetting the content for the form, picture for the frame, he presents to us a faultless and precise image of the theatre of action. The arts differ much in this respect. Sculpture limits itself to certain symbolic indications; painting, which has at its disposal means more extended, enriches with these objects the content of its pictures. Among the varieties of poetry, the epic is more circumstantial in its descriptions than the drama or lyric poetry. But this external fidelity should not, in any art, extend to the representation of insignificant details, to the making of them an object of predilection, and to subordinating to them the developments which the subject itself claims. The grand point in these descriptions is that we perceive a secret harmony between man and nature, between the action and the theatre on which it occurs.

Another species of accord is established between man and the objects of physical nature, when, through his free activity, he impresses upon them his intelligence and will, and appropriates them to his own use; the ideal consists in causing misery and necessity to disappear from the domain of art, in revealing the freedom which develops itself without effort under our eyes, and easily surmounts obstacles.

Such is the ideal considered under this aspect. Thus the gods of polytheism themselves have garments and arms; they drink nectar and are nourished by ambrosia. The garment is an ornament designed to heighten the glory of the features, to give nobleness to the countenance, to facilitate movement, or to indicate force and agility. The most brilliant objects, the metals, precious stones, purple and ivory, are employed for the same end. All concur to produce the effect of grace and beauty.

In the satisfaction of physical wants the ideal consists, above all, in the simplicity of the means. Instead of being artificial, factitious, complex, the latter emanate directly from the activity of man, and freedom. The heroes of Homer themselves slay the oxen which are to serve for the feast, and roast them; they forge their arms, and prepare their couches. This is not, as one might think, a relic of barbarous manners, something prosaic; but we see, penetrating everywhere the delight of invention, the pleasure of easy toil and free activity exercised on material objects. Everything is peculiar to and inherent in his character, and a means for the hero of revealing the force of his arm and the skill of his hand; while, in civilized society, these objects depend on a thousand foreign causes, on a complex adjustment in which man is converted into a machine subordinated to other machines. Things have lost their freshness and vitality; they remain inanimate, and are no longer proper, direct creations of the human person, in which the man loves to solace and contemplate himself.

A final point relative to the external form of the ideal is that which concerns the relation of works of art to the public, that is to say, to the nation and epoch for which the artist or the poet composes his works. Ought the artist, when he treats a subject, to consult, above all, the spirit, taste and manners of the people whom he addresses, and conform himself to their ideas? This is the means of exciting interest in fabulous and imaginary or even historic persons. But then there is a liability to distort history and tradition.