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

by Various

I. Upon Art-Criticism.

A work of art is the product of the inspired moment of the artist. It is not to be supposed that he is able to give an account of his work in the terms of the understanding. Hence the artist is not in a strict sense a critic. The highest order of criticism must endeavor to exhibit the unity of the work by showing how the various motives unfold from the central thought. Of course, the artist must be rare who can see his work doubly—first sensuously, and then rationally. Only some Michael Angelo or Goethe can do this. The common artist sees the sensuous form as the highest possible revelation—to him his feeling is higher than the intellectual vision. And can we not all—critics as well as artists—sympathize with the statement that the mere calculating intellect, the cold understanding, “all light and no heat,” can never rise into the realm where art can be appreciated? It is only when we contemplate the truly speculative intellect—which is called “love” by the mystics, and by Swedenborg “Love and wisdom united in a Divine Essence,”—that we demur at this supreme elevation of feeling or sentiment. The art critic must have all the feeling side of his nature aroused, as the first condition of his interpretation; and, secondly, he must be able to dissolve into thought the emotions which arise from that side. If feeling were more exalted than thought, this would be impossible. Such, however, is the view of such critics as the Schlegels, who belong to the romantic school. They say that the intellect considers only abstractions, while the heart is affected by the concrete whole. “Spectres and goitred dwarfs” for the intellect, but “beauty’s rose” for the feeling heart. But this all rests on a misunderstanding. The true art critic does not undervalue feeling. It is to him the essential basis upon which he builds. Unless the work of art affects his feelings, he has nothing to think about; he can go no further; the work, to him, is not a work of art at all. But if he is aroused and charmed by it, if his emotional nature is stirred to its depths, and he feels inspired by those spiritual intimations of Eternity which true art always excites, then he has a content to work upon, and this thinking of his, amounts simply to a recognition in other forms, of this eternal element, that glows through the work of art.

Hence there is no collision between the artist and the critic, if both are true to their ideal.

It certainly is no injury to the work of art to show that it treats in some form the Problem of Life, which is the mystery of the Christian religion. It is no derogation to Beethoven to show how he has solved a problem in music, just as Shakspeare in poetry, and Michael Angelo in painting. Those who are content with the mere feeling, we must always respect if they really have the true art feeling, just as we respect the simple piety of the uneducated peasant. But we must not therefore underrate the conscious seizing of the same thing,—not place St. Augustine or Martin Luther below the simple-minded peasant. Moreover, as our society has for its aim the attainment of an insight into art in general, and not the exclusive enjoyment of any particular art, it is all the more important that we should hold by the only connecting link—the only universal element—thought. For thought has not only universal content, like feeling, but also universal form, which feeling has not.

Another reason that causes persons to object to art interpretation, is perhaps that such interpretation reminds them of the inevitable moral appended ad nauseam to the stories that delighted our childhood. But it must be remembered that these morals are put forward as the object of the stories. The art critic can never admit for one moment that it is the object of a work of art simply to be didactic. It is true that all art is a means of culture; but that is not its object. Its object is to combine the idea with a sensuous form, so as to embody, as it were, the Infinite; and any motive external to the work of art itself, is at once felt to be destructive to it.

II. Upon the Interpretation of Art.

1. The Infinite is not manifested within any particular sphere of finitude, but rather exhibits itself in the collision of a Finite with another Finite without it. For a Finite must by its very nature be limited from without, and the Infinite, therefore, not only includes any given finite sphere, but also its negation (or the other spheres which joined to it make up the whole).

2. “Art is the manifestation of the Infinite in the Finite,” it is said. Therefore, this must mean that art has for its province the treatment of the collisions that necessarily arise between one finite sphere and another.

3. In proportion as the collision portrayed by art is comprehensive, and a type of all collisions in the universe, is it a high work of art. If, then, the collision is on a small scale, and between low spheres, it is not a high work of art.

4. But whether the collision presented be of a high order or of a low order, it bears a general resemblance to every other collision—the Infinite is always like itself in all its manifestations. The lower the collision, the more it becomes merely symbolical as a work of art, and the less it adequately presents the Infinite.