8 / Croce /
The Essence of Aesthetic
In order to render the problem more exact and more
difficult, it will be well to eliminate from it at once that
part to which the answer is easy, and which I have not
wished to neglect, precisely because it is usually united
and confused with it. The intuition is certainly the
production of an image, but not of an incoherent mass of
images obtained by recalling former images and allowing
them to succeed one another capriciously, by combining
one image with another in a like capricious manner,
joining a horse’s neck to a human head, and thus playing
a childish game. Old Poetic availed itself above all of the
concept of unity, in order to express this distinction
between the intuition and vain imagining, insisting that
whatever the artistic work, it should be simplex et unum;
or of the allied concept of unity in variety — that is to say,
the multiple images were to find their common centre and
dissolve in a comprehensive image: and the aesthetic of
the nineteenth century created with the same object the
distinction, which appears in not a few of its philosophers,
between imagination (the peculiar artistic faculty) and
fancy (the extra-artistic faculty). To amass, select, cut up,
combine images, presupposes the possession of particular
images in the spirit; and imagination produces, whereas
fancy is sterile, adapted to external combinations and not
to the generation of organism and life. The most profound
problem, contained beneath the rather superficial formula
with which I first presented it, is, then: What is the office
of the pure image in the life of the spirit? or (which at
bottom amounts to the same thing), How does the pure
image come into existence? Every inspired work of art
gives rise to a long series of imitators, who just repeat, cut
up in pieces, combine, and mechanically exaggerate that
work, and by so doing play the part of fancy toward or
against the imagination. But what is the justification, or
what the genesis, of the work of genius, which is
afterward submitted (a sign of glory!) to such torments?
In order to make this point clear, we must go deeply into
the character of imagination and of pure intuition.
The best way to prepare this deeper study is to recall to
mind and to criticise the theories with which it has been
sought to differentiate artistic intuition from merely
incoherent fancy (while taking care not to fall into realism
or conceptualism), to establish in what the principle of
unity consists, and to justify the productive character of
the imagination. The artistic image (it has been said) is
such, when it unites the intelligible with the sensible, and
represents an idea. Now “intelligible” and “idea” cannot
mean anything but concept (nor has it a different meaning
with those who maintain this doctrine); even though it be
the concrete concept or idea, proper to lofty philosophical
speculation, which differs from the abstract concept or
from the representative concept of the sciences. But in
any case, the concept or idea always unites the intelligible
to the sensible, and not only in art, for the new concept of
the concept, first stated by Kant and (so to say) immanent
in all modern thought, heals the breach between the
sensible and the intelligible worlds, conceives the concept
as judgment, and the judgment as synthesis a priori, and
the synthesis a priori as the word becoming flesh, as
history. Thus that definition of art leads imagination back
to logic and art to philosophy, contrary to intention; and is
at most valid for the abstract conception of science, not
for the problem of art (the aesthetic and teleological
Critique of Judgment of Kant had precisely this historical
function of correcting what of abstract there yet remained
in the Critique of Pure Reason). To seek a sensible
element for the concept, beyond that which it already
contains in itself as concrete concept, and beyond the
words in which it expresses itself, would be superfluous.
If we persist in this search, it is true that we abandon the
conception of art as philosophy or history, but only to
pass to the conception of art as allegory. And the
unsurmountable difficulties of the allegory are well
known, as its frigid and anti-historical character is known
and universally felt. Allegory is the external union, the
conventional and arbitrary juxtaposition of two spiritual
acts, a concept or thought and an image, where it is
assumed that this image must represent that concept. And
not only is the unitary character of the artistic image not
explained by this, but, in addition, a duality is purposely
created, because thought remains thought and image
image in this juxtaposition, without relation between
themselves; so much so, that in contemplating the image,
we forget the concept without any disadvantage, —
indeed, with advantage, — and in thinking the concept, we
dissipate, also with advantage, the superfluous and
tiresome image. Allegory enjoyed much favour in the
Middle Ages, that mixture of Germanism and Romanism,
of barbarism and culture, of bold imagination and of acute
reflection; but it was the theoretic presumption and not
the effective reality of that same mediaeval art which,
where it is art, drives allegory away or resolves it in itself.
This need for the solution of allegoristical dualism leads
to the refining of the theory of intuition, in so far as it is
allegory of the idea, into the other theory, of the intuition
as symbol; for the idea does not stand by itself in the
symbol, thinkable separately from the symbolising
representation, nor does the symbol stand by itself,
representable in a lively manner without the idea
symbolised. The idea is all dissolved in the representation
(as said the aesthetician Vischer, to whom, if to anyone,
belongs the blame of so prosaic a comparison in so poetic
and metaphysical a theme), like a lump of sugar melted in
a glass of water, which exists and acts in every molecule
of water, but is no longer to be found as a lump of sugar.
But the idea that has disappeared, the idea that has
become entirely representative, the idea that we can no
longer succeed in seizing as idea (save by extracting it,
like sugar from sugared water), is no longer idea, and is
only the sign that the unity of the artistic image has not
yet been achieved. Certainly art is symbol, all symbol —
that is, all significant; but symbol of what? What does it
mean? The intuition is truly artistic, it is truly intuition,
and not a chaotic mass of images, only when it has a vital