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Hegel, and with the Romantics, in Italy with De Sanctis;
and in a narrower field, what it was with De Sanctis and
what it became in the following period of naturalism, in
which the concept of art became darkened and finally
confused with physics and physiology, and even with
pathology. And if disagreements as to judgments depend
for one half, or less than half, upon lack of clearness as to
what the artist has done, lack of sympathy and taste for
another half, or more than half, this arises from the small
degree of clearness of ideas upon art; whence it often
happens that two individuals are substantially at one as to
the value of a work of art, save that the one approves what
the other blames, because each bases upon a different
definition of art.
And owing to this dependence of criticism upon the
concept of art, as many forms of false criticism are to be
distinguished as there are false philosophies of art; and,
limiting ourselves to the principal forms of which we
have already discoursed, there is a kind of criticism
which, instead of reproducing and characterising art,
breaks in pieces and classifies it; there is another,
moralistic, which treats works of art like actions in respect
of ends which the artist proposes or should have proposed
to himself; there is hedonistic criticism, which presents art
as having attained or failed to attain to pleasure and
amusement; there is also the intellectualistic form, which
measures progress according to the progress of
philosophy, knows the philosophy but not the passion of
Dante, judges Ariosto feeble because he has a feeble
philosophy, Tasso more serious because his philosophy is
more serious, Leopardi contradictory in his pessimism.
There is that criticism usually called psychological, which
separates content from form, and instead of attending to
works of art, attends to the psychology of the artists as
men; and there is the other sort, which separates form
from content and is pleased with abstract forms, because,
according to cases and to individual sympathies, they
recall antiquity or the Middle Ages; and there is yet
another, which finds beauty where it finds rhetorical
ornaments; and finally there is that which, having fixed
the laws of the kinds and of the arts, receives or rejects
works of art, according as they approach or withdraw
from the models which they have formed. I have not
enumerated them all, nor had I the intention of so doing,
nor do I wish to expound the criticism of criticism, which
could be nothing but a repetition of the already traced
criticism and dialectic of Æsthetic; and already here and
there will have been observed the beginnings of inevitable
repetition. It would be more profitable to summarise (if
even a rapid summary did not demand too much space)
the history of criticism, to place the historical names in
the ideal positions that I have indicated, and to show how
criticism of models raged above all during the Italian and
French classical periods, conceptualistic criticism in
German philosophy of the nineteenth century, that of
moralistic description at the period of religious reform or
of the Italian national revival, psychology in France with
SainteBeuve and many others; how the hedonistic form
had its widest diffusion among people in society, among
drawing-room and journalistic critics; that of
classifications, in schools, where the duty of criticism is
believed to have been successfully fulfilled, when the so-
called origin of metres and of “technique” and “subjects,”
literary and artistic “kinds” and their representatives has
been investigated.
But the forms which I have briefly described are forms of
criticism, however erroneous; though this cannot, in truth,
be said of other forms which raise their banners and
combat among themselves, under the names of “aesthetic
criticism” and “historical criticism.” These I beg leave to
baptise, on the contrary, as they deserve, pseudo-aesthetic
criticism (or aesthetistic), and pseudo-historical criticism
(or historistical). These two forms, though very much
opposed, have a common hatred of philosophy in general,
and of the concept of art in particular: against any
intervention of thought in the criticism of art, which in the
opinion of the former is the affair of artistic souls; in the
opinion of the latter, of the erudite. In other words, they
debase criticism below criticism, the former limiting it to
pure taste and enjoyment of art, the latter to pure
exegetical research or preparation of materials for
reproduction by the imagination. What Æsthetic, which
implies thought and concept of art, can have to do with
pure taste without concept, is difficult to say; and what
history can have to do with disconnected erudition
relative to art, which is not organisable as history, because
without a concept of art and ignorant of what art is
(whereas history demands always that we should know
that of which we narrate the history), is yet more difficult
to establish; at the most we could note the reasons for the
strange “fortune” which those two words have
experienced. But there would be no harm in those names
or in the refusal to exercise criticism, provided that the
upholders of both should remain within the boundaries
assigned by themselves, enjoying works of art or
collecting material for exegesis; they should leave
criticism to him who wishes to criticise, or be satisfied
with speaking ill of it without touching problems which
properly belong to criticism. In order to attain to such an
attitude of reserve, it would be necessary neither more nor
less than that the aesthetes should never open their
mouths in ecstasy about art, but silently degustate their
joys, or at most, that when they meet their like they
should understand one another, as animals are said to do
(who knows, though, if it be true!) without speaking: their
countenance unconsciously bearing an expression of
ravishment, their arms outstretched in an attitude of
wonder, or their hands joined in a prayer of thanksgiving
for joy experienced, should suffice for everything.
Historicists, for their part, might certainly speak — of
codices, corrections, chronological and topical data, of
political facts, of biographical occurrences, of sources of
works, of language, of syntaxes, of metres, but never of
art, which they serve, but to whose countenance, as
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simple erudites, they cannot raise their eyes, as the maid-
servant does not raise them to look upon her mistress,
whose clothes she nevertheless brushes and whose food
she prepares: sic vos, non vobis. But go and ask of men
such abstentions, sacrifices, heroisms, however
extravagant in their ideas and fanatic in their
extravagances! In particular, go and ask those who, for
one reason or another, are occupied with art all their lives,
not to talk of or to judge art! But the mute aesthetisticians
talk of, judge, and argue about art, and the inconclusive
historicists do the same; and since in thus talking they are
without the guide of philosophy and of the concept of art,
which they despise and abhor, and yet have need of a
concept — when good sense does not fortunately happen
to suggest the right one to them, without their being aware
of it — they wander about among all the various
preconceptions, moralistic and hedonistic, intellectualistic
and contentistic, formalistic and rhetorical, physiological
and academical, which I have recorded, now relying upon
this one, now upon that, now confounding them all and
contaminating one with the other. And the most curious
spectacle (notunforeseen by the philosopher) is that the
aesthetisticians and historicists, those irreconcilable
adversaries, although they start from opposite points, yet
agree so well that they end by uttering the same fatuities;
and nothing is more amusing than to meet again the most
musty intellectualistic and moralistic ideas in the pages of
deeply moved lovers of art (so deeply moved as to hate
thought), and in the most positivist historicists, so positive
as to fear compromising their positivity by attempting to
understand the object of their researches, which chances
this time to be called art.
True criticism of art is certainly aesthetic criticism, but
not because it disdains philosophy, like pseudoaesthetic,
but because it acts as philosophy and as conception of art;
it is historical criticism, not because, like pseudo-history,
it deals with the externals of art, but because, after having
availed itself of historical data for imaginative
reproduction (and till then it is not yet history), when
imaginative reproduction has been obtained, it becomes
history, by determining what is that fact which has been
reproduced in the imagination, and so characterising the
fact by means of the concept, and establishing what
exactly is the fact that has occurred. Thus, the two things
at variance in spheres inferior to criticism coincide in
criticism; and “historical criticism of art” and “aesthetic
criticism” are the same: it is indifferent which word we
use, for each may have its special use solely for reasons of
convenience, as when, for instance, we wish to call
special attention, with the first, to the necessity of the
understanding of art; with the second, to the historical
objectivity of the subject matter. Thus is solved the
problem discussed by certain methodologists, namely,
whether history enter into the criticism of art as means or
as end: since it is henceforth clear that history employed
as a means is not history, precisely because it is a means,
but exegetic material; and that which has value as end is
certainly history, though it does not enter criticism as a
particular element, but as constituting its whole: which
precisely expresses the word “end.”
But if criticism of art be historical criticism, it follows
that it will not be possible to limit the duty of discerning
the beautiful and the ugly to simple approval and rejection
in the immediate consciousness of the artist when he
produces, or of the man of taste when he contemplates; it
must widen and elevate itself to what is called
explanation. And since in the world of history (which is,
indeed, the only world) negative or privative facts do not
exist, what seems to taste to be ugly and repugnant,
because not artistic, will be neither ugly nor repugnant to
historical consideration, because it knows that what is not
artistic, yet is something else, and has its right to existence
as truly as it has existed. The virtuous Catholic allegory
composed by Tasso for his Gerusalemme is not artistic,
nor the patriotic declamations of Niccolini and Guerrazzi,
nor the subtleties and conceits which Petrarch introduced
into his poems; but Tasso’s allegory is one of the
manifestations of the work of the Catholic counter-reform
in the Latin countries; the declamations of Niccolini and
of Guerrazzi were violent attempts to rouse the souls of
Italians against the priest and the stranger, or agreement
with the spirit of such arousing; the subtleties and
conceits of Petrarch, the cult of traditional troubadour
elegance, revived and enriched in the new Italian
civilisation; that is to say, they are all practical facts, very
significant historically and worthy of respect. We can
certainly continue to talk of the beautiful and of the ugly
in the field of historical criticism, with a view to vividness
of speech and in order to speak like other people,
provided that we show at the same time, or hint, or let be
understood, or at least do not exclude, the positive
content, both of that beautiful and of that ugly, which will
never be so radically condemned in its ugliness as when it
is fully justified and understood, because it will thus be
removed in the most radical manner from the sphere
proper to art.
For this reason, criticism of art, when truly aesthetic or
historical, becomes at the same time amplified into a
criticism of life, since it is not possible to judge — that is,
to characterise — works of art, without at the same time
judging and characterising the works of the whole life: as
we observe with the truly great critics, and above all with
De Sanctis, in his “History of Italian Literature” and in his
“Critical Essays,” where he is as profound a critic of art as
of philosophy, morality and politics; he is profound in the
one because profound in the other, and inversely: the
strength of his pure aesthetic consideration of art is the
strength of his pure moral consideration of morality, of
his pure logical consideration of philosophy, and so on.
Because the forms of the spirit, of which criticism avails
itself as categories of judgment, although ideally
distinguishable in unity, are not materially separable from
one another and from unity, under penalty of seeing them
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vanish before us. We cannot, therefore, speak of a
distinction of art from other criticism, save in an empirical
manner, and in order to indicate that the attention of the
speaker or writer is directed to one rather than to another
part of his indivisible argument. And the distinction is
also empirical (I have hitherto preserved it here, in order
to proceed with didactic clearness) between criticism and
history of art: a distinction which has been specially
determined by the fact that a polemical element prevails
in the study of contemporary art and literature, which
causes it to be more readily called “criticism,” while in
that of the art and literature of a more remote period
prevails the narrative tone, and therefore it is more readily
termed “history.” In reality, true and complete criticism is
the serene historical narration of what has happened; and
history is the only true criticism that can be exercised
upon the doings of humanity, which cannot be not-facts,
since they have happened, and are not to be dominated by
the spirit otherwise than by understanding them. And
since the criticism of art has shown itself to us to be
inseparable from other criticism, so the history of art can
be separated from the complete history of human
civilisation only with a view to giving it literary
prominence and where it certainly follows its own law,
which is art, but receives its historical impulse from the
complete history, which belongs to the spirit as a whole,
never to one form of the spirit torn from the others.
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