11 / Croce /
The Essence of Aesthetic
this dialectic, in which the theorists of the content become
formalists against their will, and the formalists upholders
of the theory of the content; thus each passes over to
occupy the other’s place, but to be restless there and to
return to their own, which gives rise to renewed
restlessness. The “beautiful forms” of Herbart do not
differ in any way from the “beautiful contents” of the
Hegelians, because both are nothing. And we become yet
more interested to observe their efforts to get out of
prison, and the blows with which they weaken its doors or
its walls, and the air-holes which some of those thinkers
succeed in opening. Their efforts are clumsy and sterile,
like those of the theorists of the content (they are to be
seen in the Philosophie des Schönen of Hartmann), who,
by adding stitch to stitch, composed a net of “beautiful
contents” (beautiful, sublime, comic, tragic, humoristic,
pathetic, idyllic, sentimental, etc., etc.), in which they
tried to make it embrace every form of reality, even that
which they had called “ugly.” They failed to perceive that
their aesthetic content, thus made to enclose little by little
the whole of reality, had no longer any character that
distinguished it from other contents, since there is no
content beyond reality; and that their fundamental theory
was thus fundamentally negated. These tautologies
resemble those of other formalistic theorists of the content
who maintained the concept of an aesthetic content, but
defined it as that “which interests man,” and made the
interest relative to man in his different historical
situations — that is, relative to the individual. This was
another way of denying the original undertaking, for it is
very clear that the artist would not produce art, did he not
interest himself in something which is the datum or the
problem of his production, but that this something
becomes art only because the artist, by becoming
interested in it, makes it so. These are evasions of
formalists, who after having limited art to abstract
beautiful forms, void in themselves of all content and yet
capable of being added to contents to form the sum of two
values, timidly introduced among beautiful forms that of
the “harmony of form with content”; or more resolutely
declared themselves partisans of a sort of eclecticism,
which makes art to consist of a sort of “relation” of the
beautiful content with the beautiful form, and thus, with
an incorrectness worthy of eclectics, attributed to terms
outside the relation qualities which they assume only
within the relation.
For the truth is really this: content and form must be
clearly distinguished in art, but must not be separately
qualified as artistic, precisely because their relation only
is artistic — that is, their unity, understood not as an
abstract, dead unity, but as concrete and living, which is
that of the synthesis a priori; and art is a true aesthetic
synthesis a priori of feeling and image in the intuition, as
to which it may be repeated that feeling without image is
blind, and image without feeling is void. Feeling and
image do not exist for the artistic spirit outside the
synthesis; they may have existence from another point of
view in another plane of knowledge, and feeling will then
be the practical aspect of the spirit that loves and hates,
desires and dislikes, and the image will be the inanimate
residue of art, the withered leaf, prey of the wind of
imagination and of amusement’s caprice. All this has no
concern with the artist or the aesthetician: for art is no
vain imagining, or tumultuous passionality, but the
surpassing of this act by means of another act, or, if it be
preferred, the substitution for this tumult of another
tumult, that of the longing to create and to contemplate
with the joy and the anguish of artistic creation. It is
therefore indifferent, or merely a question of
terminological opportuneness, whether we should present
art as content or as form, provided it be always recognised
that the content is formed and the form filled, that feeling
is figured feeling and the figure a figure that is felt. And it
is only owing to historical deference toward him who
better than others caused the concept of the autonomy of
art to be appreciated, and wished to affirm this autonomy
with the word “form,” thus opposing alike the abstract
theory of the content of the philosophisers and moralists
and the abstract formalism of the academicians, — in
deference, I say, to De Sanctis, and also because of the
ever necessary polemic against attempts to absorb art in
other modes of spiritual activity, — that the aesthetic of
the intuition can be called “Æsthetic of form.” It is useless
to refute an objection that certainly might be made (but
rather with the sophistry of the advocate than with the
acuteness of the scientist), namely, that the aesthetic of
the intuition also, since it describes the content of art as
feeling or state of the soul, qualifies it outside the
intuition, and seems to admit that a content, which is not
feeling or a state of the soul, does not lend itself to artistic
elaboration, and is not an aesthetic content. Feeling, or
state of the soul is not a particular content, but the whole
universe seen sub specie intuitionis; and outside it there is
no other content conceivable that is not also a different
form of the intuitive form; not thoughts, which are the
whole universe sub specie cogitationis; not physical
things and mathematical beings, which are the whole
universe sub specie schematismi et abstractionis; not
wills, which are the whole universe sub specie volitionis.
Another not less fallacious distinction (to which the words
“content” and “form” are also applied) separates intuition
from expression, the image from the physical translation
of the image. It places on one side phantasms of feeling,
images of men, of animals, of landscapes, of actions, of
adventures, and so on; and on the other, sounds, tones,
lines, colours, and so on; calling the first the external, the
second the internal element of art: the one art properly so-
called, the other technique. It is easy to distinguish
internal and external, at least in words, especially when
no minute enquiry is made as to the reasons and motives
for the distinction, and when the distinction is just thrown
down there without any service being demanded of it; so
easy that by never thinking about it, the distinction may
eventually come to seem indubitable to thought. But it