The essential principles and the social purpose of the only philosophy by which the revolution can be brought to a close, are now before us. We have seen too that energetic support from the People and cordial sympathy from Women are necessary to bring this philosophic movement to a practical result. One further condition yet remains. The view here taken of human life as regenerated by this combination of efforts, would be incomplete if it did not include an additional element, with which Positivism, as I have now to show, is no less competent to deal. We have spoken already of the place which Reason occupies in our nature; its function being to subordinate itself to Feeling for the better guidance of the Active powers. But in the normal state of our nature it has also another function; that of regulating and stimulating Imagination, without yielding passive obedience to it. The aesthetic faculties are far too important to be disregarded in the normal state of Humanity; therefore they must not be omitted from the system which aims to introduce that state. There is a strong but groundless prejudice that in this respect at least Positivism will be found wanting. Yet it furnishes, as may readily be shown, the only true foundation of modern Art, which, since the Middle Ages, has been cultivated without fixed principles or lofty purpose.

The reproach that Positivism is incompatible with Art arises simply from the fact that almost everyone is in the habit of confounding the philosophy itself with the scientific studies on which it is based. The charge only applies to the positive spirit in its preliminary phase of disconnected specialities, a phase which scientific men of the present day are making such mischievous efforts to prolong. Nothing can be more fatal to the fine arts than the narrow views, the overstraining of analysis, the abuse of the reasoning faculty, which characterize the scientific investigation of the present day; to say nothing of their injurious effects upon moral progress, the first condition of aesthetic development. But all these defects necessarily disappear when the Positive spirit becomes more comprehensive and systematic; which is the case as soon as it embraces the higher subjects in the encyclopædic scale of sciences. When it reaches the study of Society, which is its true and ultimate sphere, it has to deal with the conceptions of Poetry, as well as with the operations of Feeling: since its object must then be to give a faithful and complete representation of human nature under its individual, and still more under its social, aspects. Hitherto Positive science has avoided these two subjects: but their charm is such that, when the study of them has been once begun, it cannot fail to be prosecuted with ardour; and their proper place in the constitution of Man and of Society will then be recognized. Reason has been divorced for a long time from Feeling and Imagination. But, with the more complete and systematic culture here proposed, they will be reunited.

To those who have studied the foregoing chapters with attention, the view that the new philosophy is unfavourable to Art, will be obviously unjust. Supposing even that there were no important functions specially assigned to the fine arts in the Positive system, yet indirectly, the leading principles of the system, its social purpose, and the influences by which it is propagated, are all most conducive to the interests of Art. To demonstrate, as Positivism alone of all philosophies has done, the subordination of the intellect to the heart, and the dependence of the unity of human nature upon Feeling, is to stimulate the aesthetic faculties, because Feeling is their true source. To propound a social doctrine by which the Revolution is brought to a close, is to remove the principal obstacle to the growth of Art, and to open a wide field and a firm foundation for it, by establishing fixed principles and modes of life; in the absence of which Poetry can have nothing noble to narrate or to inspire. To exhort the working classes to seek happiness in calling their moral and mental powers into constant exercise, and to give them an education, the principal basis of which is aesthetic, is to place Art under the protection of its natural patrons.

But one consideration is of itself sufficient for our purpose. We have but to look at the influence of Positivism upon Women, at its tendency to elevate the social dignity of their sex, while at the same time strengthening all family ties. Now of all the elements of which society is constituted, Woman certainly is the most aesthetic, alike from her nature and her position; and both her position and her nature are raised and strengthened by Positivism. We receive from women, not only our first ideas of Goodness, but our first sense of Beauty; for their own sensibility to it is equalled by their power of imparting it to others. We see in them every kind of beauty combined; beauty of mind and character as well as of person. All their actions, even those which are unconscious, exhibit a spontaneous striving for ideal perfection. And their life at home, when free from the necessity of labouring for a livelihood, favours this tendency. Living as they do for affection, they cannot fail to feel aspirations for all that is highest, in the world around them first, and then also in the world of imagination. A doctrine, then, which regards women as the originators of moral influence in society, and which places the groundwork of education under their charge, cannot be suspected of being unfavourable to Art.

Leaving these prejudices, we may now examine the mode in which the incorporation of Art into the modern social system will be promoted by Positivism. In the first place systematic principles of Art will be laid down, and its proper function clearly defined. The result of this will be to call out new and powerful means of expression, and also new organs. I may observe that the position which Art will occupy in the present movement of social regeneration is already an inauguration of its final function; as we saw in the analogous cases of the position of women and of the working classes.

But before touching on this question it will be well to rectify a prevalent misconception on the subject, one of the many consequences of our mental and moral anarchy. I refer to the exaggeration of the influence of Art; an error which, if uncorrected, would vitiate all our views with regard to it.

All poets of real genius, from Homer to Corneille, have always considered their work to be that of beautifying human life, and so far, of elevating it. Government of human life they had never supposed to fall within their province. Indeed no sane man would lay it down as a proposition that Imagination should control the other mental faculties. It would imply that the normal condition of the intellect was insanity; insanity being definable as that state of mind in which subjective inspirations are stronger than objective judgments. It is a static law of our nature, which has never been permanently suspended, that the faculties of Representation and Expression should be subordinate to those of Conception and Coordination. Even in cerebral disturbances the law holds good. The relation with the external world is perverted, but the original correlation of the internal mental functions remains unaffected.

The foolish vanity of the later poets of antiquity led some of them into errors much resembling those which now prevail on this point. Still in Polytheistic society artists were at no time looked upon as the leading class, notwithstanding the aesthetic character of Greek and Roman religion. If proofs were necessary, Homer’s poems, especially the Odyssey, would show how secondary the influence of the fine arts was upon society, even when the priesthood had ceased to control them. Plato’s Utopia, written when Polytheism was in its decline, represented a state in which the interference of poets was systematically prevented. Medieval Monotheism was still less disposed to overrate the importance of Art, though its true value was recognized more generally than it had ever been before. But with the decline of Catholicism, germs of errors showed themselves, from which even the extraordinary genius of Dante was not free. The revolutionary influences of the last five centuries have developed these errors into the delirium of self-conceit exhibited by the poets and literary men of our time. Theology having arrived at its extreme limits before any true conception of the Positive state could arise, the negative condition of the Western Republic became aggravated to an unheard-of extent. Rules and institutions, which had formerly controlled the most headstrong ambition, fell rapidly into discredit. And as the principles of social order disappeared, artists and especially poets, the leading class among them, stimulated by the applause which they received from their uninstructed audience, fell into the error of seeking political influence. Incompatible as all mere criticism must be with true poetry, modern Art since the fourteenth century has participated more and more actively in the destruction of the old system. Until, however, Negativism had received its distinct shape and character from the revolutions of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the influence of Art for destructive purposes was secondary to that exercised by metaphysicians and legists. But in the eighteenth century, when negativism began to be propagated boldly in a systematic form, the case was changed, and literary ambition asserted itself more strongly. The speculative thinkers who had hitherto formed the vanguard of the destructive movement, were replaced by mere litterateurs, men whose talents were of a poetical rather than philosophical kind, but who had, intellectually speaking, no real vocation. When the crisis of the Revolution came, this heterogeneous class took the lead in the movement, and naturally stepped into all political offices; a state of things which will continue until there is a more direct and general movement of reorganization.

This is the historical explanation, and at the same time the refutation, of the subversive schemes so prevalent in our time, of which the object is to establish a sort of aristocracy of literary pedants. Such daydreams of unbridled self-conceit find favour only with the metaphysical minds who cannot sanction exceptional cases without making them into an absolute rule. If philosophers are to be excluded from political authority, there is still greater reason for excluding poets. The mental and moral versatility which makes them so apt in reflecting the thoughts and feelings of those around them, utterly unfits them for being our guides. Their natural defects are such as nothing but rigorous and systematic education can correct; they are, therefore, certain to be peculiarly prominent in times like these when deep convictions of any kind are so rare. Their real vocation is to assist the spiritual power as accessory members; and this involves their renouncing all ideas of government, even more strictly than philosophers themselves. Philosophers, though not themselves engaging in politics, are called upon to lay down the principles of political action; but the poet has very little to do with either. His special function is to idealize and to stimulate; and to do this well, he must concentrate his energies exclusively upon it. It is a large and noble field, amply sufficient to absorb men who have a real vocation for it. Accordingly, in the great artist of former times we see comparatively few traces of this extravagant ambition. It comes before us in a time when, owing to the absence of regular habits of life and fixed convictions, art of the highest order is impossible. The poets of our time either have not realized or have mistaken their vocation. When Society is again brought under the influence of a universal doctrine, real poetry will again become possible; and such men as those we have been speaking of will turn their energies in a different direction. Till then they will continue to waste their efforts or to ruin their character in worthless political agitation, a state of things in which mediocrity shines and real genius is left in the background.

In the normal state of human nature, Imagination is subordinate to Reason as Reason is to Feeling. Any prolonged inversion of this natural order is both morally and intellectually dangerous. The reign of Imagination would be still more disastrous than the reign of Reason; only that it is even more incompatible with the practical conditions of human life. But chimerical as it is, the mere pursuit of it may do much individual harm by substituting artificial excitement, and in too many cases affectation of feeling, in the place of deep and spontaneous emotion. Viewed politically, nothing can be worse than this undue preponderance of aesthetic considerations caused by the uncontrolled ambition of artists and litterateurs. The true object of Art, which is to charm and elevate human life, is gradually lost sight of. By being held out as the aim and object of existence, it degrades the artist and the public equally, and is therefore certain to degenerate. It loses all its higher tendencies, and is reduced either to a sensuous pleasure, or to a mere display of technical skill. Admiration for the arts, which, when kept in its proper place, has done so much for modern life, may become a deeply corrupting influence, if it becomes the paramount consideration. It is notorious what an atrocious custom prevailed in Italy for several centuries, simply for the sake of improving men’s voices. Art, the true purpose of which is to strengthen our sympathies, leads when thus degraded to a most abject form of selfishness; in which enjoyment of sounds or forms is held out as the highest happiness, and utter apathy prevails as to all questions of social interest. So dangerous is it intellectually, and still more so morally, for individuals, and above all, for societies to allow aesthetic considerations to become unduly preponderant; even when they spring from a genuine impulse. But the invariable consequence to which this violation of the first principles of social order leads, is the success of mediocrities who acquire technical skill by long practice.

Thus it is that we have gradually fallen under the discreditable influence of men who were evidently not competent for any but subordinate positions, and whose preponderance has proved as injurious to Art as it has been to Philosophy and Morality. A fatal facility of giving expression to what is neither believed nor felt, gives temporary reputation to men who are as incapable of originality in Art as they are of grasping any new principle in science. It is the most remarkable of all the political anomalies caused by our revolutionary position; and the moral results are most deplorable, unless when, as rarely happens, the possessor of these undeserved honours has a nature too noble to be injured by them. Poets are more exposed to these dangers than other artists, because their sphere is more general and gives wider scope for ambition. But in the special arts we find the same evil in a still more degrading form; that of avarice, a vice by which so much of our highest talent is now tainted. Another signal proof of the childish vanity and uncontrolled ambition of the class is, that those who are merely interpreters of other men’s productions claim the same title as those who have produced original works.

Such are the results of the extravagant pretensions which artists and literary men have gradually developed during the last five centuries. I have dwelt upon them because they constitute at present serious impediments to all sound views of the nature and purposes of Art. My strictures will not be thought too severe by really aesthetic natures, who know from personal experience how fatal the present system is to all talent of a high order. Whatever the outcry of those personally interested, it is certain that in the true interest of Art the suppression of mediocrity is at least as important as the encouragement of talent. True taste always implies distaste. The very fact that the object is to foster in us the sense of perfection, implies that all true connoisseurs will feel a thorough dislike for feeble work. Happily there is this privilege in all masterpieces, that the admiration aroused by them endures in its full strength for all time; so that the plea which is often put forward of keeping up the public taste by novelties which in reality injure it, falls to the ground. To mention my own experience, I may say that for thirteen years I have been induced alike from principle and from inclination, to restrict my reading almost entirely to the great Occidental poets, without feeling the smallest curiosity for the works of the day which are brought out in such mischievous abundance.

Guarding ourselves, then, against errors of this kind, we may now proceed to consider the aesthetic character of Positivism. In the first place, it furnishes us with a satisfactory theory of Art; a subject which has never been systematically explained; all previous attempts to do so, whatever their value, having viewed the subject incompletely. The theory here offered is based on the subjective principle of the new philosophy, on its objective dogma, and on its social purpose; as set forward in the two first chapters of this work.

Art may be defined as an ideal representation of Fact; and its object is to cultivate our sense of perfection. Its sphere therefore is coextensive with that of Science. Both deal in their own way with the world of Fact; the one explains it, the other beautifies it. The contemplations of the artist and of the man of science follow the same encyclopædic law; they begin with the simple objects of the external world; they gradually rise to the complicated facts of human nature. I pointed out in the second chapter that the scientific scale, the scale, that is, of the True, coincided with that of the Good: we now see that it coincides with that of the Beautiful. Thus between these three great creations of Humanity, Philosophy, Polity, and Poetry, there is the most perfect harmony. The first elements of Beauty, that is to say, Order and Magnitude, are visible in the inorganic world, especially in the heavens; and they are there perceived with greater distinctness than where the phenomena are more complex and less uniform. The higher degrees of Beauty will hardly be recognized by those who are insensible to this its simplest phase. But as in Philosophy we only study the inorganic world as a preliminary to the study of Man; so, but to a still greater extent, is it with Poetry. In Polity the tendency is similar but less apparent. Here we begin with material progress; we proceed to physical and subsequently to intellectual progress; but it is long before we arrive at the ultimate goal, moral progress. Poetry passes more rapidly over the three preliminary stages, and rises with less difficulty to the contemplation of moral beauty. Feeling, then, is essentially the sphere of Poetry. And it supplies not the end only, but the means. Of all the phenomena which relate to man, human affections are the most modifiable, and therefore the most susceptible of idealization. Being more imperfect than any other, by virtue of their higher complexity, they allow greater scope for improvement. Now the act of expression, however imperfect, reacts powerfully upon these functions, which from their nature are always seeking some external vent. Everyone recognizes the influence of language upon thoughts: and surely it cannot be less upon feelings, since in them the need of expression is greater. Consequently all aesthetic study, even if purely imitative, may become a useful moral exercise, by calling sympathies and antipathies into healthy play. The effect is far greater when the representation, passing the limits of strict accuracy, is suitably idealized. This indeed is the characteristic mission of Art. Its function is to construct types of the noblest kind, by the contemplation of which our feelings and thoughts may be elevated. That the portraiture should be exaggerated follows from the definition of Art; it should surpass realities so as to stimulate us to amend them. Great as the influence is of these poetic emotions on individuals, they are far more efficacious when brought to bear upon public life: not only from the greater importance of the subject matter, but because each individual impression is rendered more intense by combination.

Thus Positivism explains and confirms the view ordinarily taken of Poetry, by placing it midway between Philosophy and Polity; issuing from the first, and preparing the way for the second.

Even Feeling itself, the highest principle of our existence, accepts the objective dogma of Philosophy, that Humanity is subject to the order of the external world. And Imagination on still stronger grounds must accept the same law. The ideal must always be subordinate to the real; otherwise feebleness as well as extravagance is the consequence. The statesman who endeavours to improve the existing order, must first study it as it exists. And the poet, although his improvements are but imagined, and are not supposed capable of realization, must do likewise. True in his fictions he will transcend the limits of the possible, while the statesman will keep within those limits; but both have the same point of departure; both begin by studying the actual facts with which they deal. In our artificial improvements we should never aim at anything more than wise modification of the natural order; we should never attempt to subvert it. And though Imagination has a wider range for its pictures, they are yet subject to the same fundamental law, imposed by Philosophy upon Polity and Poetry alike. Even in the most poetic ages this law has always been recognized, only the external world was interpreted then in a way very differently from now. We see the same thing every day in the mental growth of the child. As his notions of fact change, his fictions are modified in conformity with these changes.

But while Poetry depends upon Philosophy for the principles on which its types are constructed, it influences Polity by the direction which it gives to those types. In every operation that man undertakes, he must imagine before he executes, as he must observe before he imagines. He can never produce a result which he has not conceived first in his own mind. In the simplest application of mechanics or geometry he finds it necessary to form a mental type, which is always more perfect than the reality which it precedes and prepares. Now none but those who confound poetry with verse-making can fail to see that this conception of a type is the same thing as aesthetic imagination, under its simplest and most general aspect. Its application to social phenomena, which constitute the chief sphere both of Art and of Science, is very imperfectly understood as yet, and can hardly be said to have begun, owing to the want of any true theory of society. The real object of so applying it is, that it should regulate the formation of social Utopias; subordinating them to the laws of social development as revealed by history. Utopias are to the Art of social life what geometrical and mechanical types are to their respective arts. In these their necessity is universally recognized; and surely the necessity cannot be less in problems of such far greater intricacy. Accordingly we see that, notwithstanding the empirical condition in which political art has hitherto existed, every great change has been ushered in, one or two centuries beforehand, by an Utopia bearing some analogy to it. It was the product of the aesthetic genius of Humanity working under an imperfect sense of its conditions and requirements. Positivism, far from laying an interdict on Utopias, tends rather to facilitate their employment and their influence, as a normal element in society. Only, as in the case of all other products of imagination, they must always remain subordinated to the actual laws of social existence. And thus by giving a systematic sanction to this the Poetry, as it may be called, of Politics, most of the dangers which now surround it will disappear. Its present extravagances arise simply from the absence of some philosophical principle to control it, and therefore there is no reason for regarding them with great severity.

The whole of this theory may be summed up in the double meaning of the word so admirably chosen to designate our aesthetic functions. The word “Art” is a remarkable instance of the popular instinct from which language proceeds, and which is far more enlightened than educated persons are apt to suppose. It indicates, however vaguely, a sense of the true position of Poetry, midway between Philosophy and Polity, but with a closer relation to the latter. True, in the case of the technical arts the improvements proposed are practically realized, while those of the fine arts remain imaginary. Poetry, however, does produce one result of an indirect but most essential kind; it does actually modify our moral nature. If we include oratory, which is only Poetry in a simpler phase, though often worthless enough, we find its influence exerted in a most difficult and critical task, that of arousing or calming our passions; and this not arbitrarily, but in accordance with the fixed laws of their action. Here it has always been recognized as a moral agency of great power. On every ground, then, Poetry seems more closely related to practical than to speculative life. For its practical results are of the most important and comprehensive nature. Whatever the utility of other arts, material, physical, or intellectual, they are only subsidiary or preparatory to that which in Poetry is the direct aim, moral improvement. In the Middle Ages it was common in all Western languages to speak of it as a Science, the proper meaning of the word Science being then very imperfectly understood. But as soon as both artistic and scientific genius had become more fully developed, their distinctive features were more clearly recognized, and finally the name of Art was appropriated to the whole class of poetic functions. The fact is, at all events, an argument in favour of the Positive theory of idealization, as standing midway between theoretical inquiry and practical result.

Evidently, then, it is in Art that the unity of human natures finds its most complete and most natural representation. For Art is in direct relation with the three orders of phenomena by which human nature is characterized; Feelings, Thoughts, and Actions. It originates in Feeling; the proof of this is even more obvious than in the case of Philosophy and Polity. It has its basis in Thought, and its end is Action. Hence its power of exerting an influence for good alike on every phase of our existence, whether personal or social. Hence too its peculiar attribute of giving equal pleasure to all ranks and ages. Art invites the thinker to leave his abstractions for the study of real life; it elevates the practical man into a region of thought where self-love has no place. By its intermediate position it promotes the mutual reaction of Affection and Reason. It stimulates feeling in those who are too much engrossed with intellectual questions: it strengthens the contemplative faculty in natures where sympathy predominates. It has been said of Art that its province is to hold a mirror to nature. The saying is usually applied to social life where its truth is most apparent. But it is no less true of every aspect of our existence; for under every aspect it may be a source of Art, and may be represented and modified by it. Turning to Biology for the cause of this sociological relation, we find it in the relation of the muscular and nervous systems. Our motions, involuntary at first, and then voluntary, indicate internal impressions, moral impressions more especially; and as they proceed from them, so they react upon them. Here we find the first germ of a true theory of Art. Throughout the animal kingdom language is simply gesticulation of a more or less expressive kind. And with man aesthetic development begins in the same spontaneous way.

With this primary principle we may now complete our statical theory of Art, by indicating in it three distinct degrees or phases. The fine arts have been divided into imitative and inventive; but this distinction has no real foundation. Art always imitates, and always idealizes. True, as the real is in every case the source of the ideal, Art begins at first with simple Imitation. In the childhood, whether of men or of the race, as also with the lower animals, servile imitation, and that of the most insignificant actions, is the only symptom of aesthetic capacity. No representation, however, has at present any claim to the title of Art (although from motives of puerile vanity the name is often given to it), except so far as it is made more beautiful, that is to say, more perfect. The representation thus becomes in reality more faithful, because the principal features are brought prominently forward, instead of being obscured by a mass of unmeaning detail. This it is which constitutes Idealization; and from the time of the great masterpieces of antiquity, it has become more and more the characteristic feature of aesthetic productions. But in recognizing the superiority of Idealization as the second stage of Art, we must not forget the necessity of its first stage, Imitation. Without it neither the origin nor the nature of Art could be correctly understood.

In addition to the creative process, which is the chief characteristic of Art, there is a third function which, though not absolutely necessary in its imitative stage, becomes in its ideal stage. I mean the function of Expression strictly so called, without which the product of imagination could not be communicated to others. Language, whether it be the Language of sound or form, is the last stage of the aesthetic operation, and it does not always bear a due proportion to the inventive faculty. When it is too defective, the sublimest creations may be ranked lower than they deserve, owing to the failure of the poet to communicate his thought completely. Great powers of style may, on the other hand, confer unmerited reputation, which however does not endure. An instance of this is the preference that was given for so long a time to Racine over Corneille.

So long as Art is confined to Imitation, no special language is required; imitation is itself the substitute for language. But as soon as the representation has become idealized by heightening some features and suppressing or altering others, it corresponds to something which exists only in the mind of the composer; and its communication to the world requires additional labour devoted exclusively to Expression. In this final process so necessary to the complete success of his work, the poet moulds his signs upon his inward type; just as he began at first by adapting them to external facts. So far there is some truth in Grétry’s principle that song is derived from speech by the intermediate stage of declamation. The same principle has been applied to all the special arts; it might also be applied to Poetry, oratory being the link between verse and prose. These views, however, are somewhat modified by the historical spirit of Positive Philosophy. We must invert Grétry’s relation of cause and effect; at least when we are considering those primitive times, when Art and Language first arose together.

The origin of all our faculties of expression is invariably aesthetic; for we do not express till after we have felt strongly. Feeling had, in primitive times at all events, far more to do with these faculties than Thought, being a far stronger stimulant to external demonstration. Even in the most highly wrought languages, where, in consequence of social requirements, reason has to a great extent encroached upon emotion, we see evidence of this truth. There is a musical element in the most ordinary conversation. Listening carefully to a lecture on the most abstruse mathematical problem, we shall hear intonations which proceed obviously from the heart rather than the head, and which are indications of character even in the most unimpassioned speaker. Biology at once explains this law, by teaching that the stimulus to the muscles used in expression, whether vocal or gesticulatory, comes principally from the affective region of the brain; the specu-region being too inert to produce muscular contraction for which there is no absolute necessity. Accordingly, Sociology regards every language as containing in its primitive elements all that is spontaneous and universal in the aesthetic development of Humanity; enough, that is, to satisfy the general need of communicating emotion. In this common field the special arts commence, and they ultimately widen it. But the operation is the same in its nature, whether carried on by popular instinct or by individuals. The final result is always more dependent on feeling than on reason, even in times like these, when the intellect has risen in revolt against the heart. Song, therefore, comes before Speech; Painting before Writing; because the first things we express are those which move our feelings most. Subsequently the necessities of social life oblige us to employ more frequently, and ultimately to develop, those elements in painting or in song, which relate to our practical wants and to our speculative faculties so far as they are required for supplying them; these forming the topics of ordinary communication. Thus the emotion from which the sign had originally proceeded becomes gradually effaced; the practical object is alone thought of, and expression becomes more rapid and less emphatic. The process goes on until at last the sign is supposed to have originated in arbitrary convention; though, if this were the case, its universal and spontaneous adoption would be inexplicable. Such, then, is the sociological theory of Language, on which I shall afterwards dwell more fully. I connect it with the whole class of aesthetic functions, from which in the lower animals it is not distinguished. For no animal idealizes its song or gesture so far as to rise to anything that can properly be called Art.

To complete our examination of the philosophy of Art, statically viewed, we have now only to speak of the order in which the various arts should be classified. Placed as Art is, midway between Theory and Practice, it is classified on the same principle, the principle, that is of decreasing generality, which I have long ago shown to be applicable to all Positive classifications of whatever kind. We have already obtained from it a scale of the Beautiful, answering in most points to that which was first laid down for the True, and which we applied afterwards to the Good. By following it in the present instance, we shall be enabled to range the arts in the order of their conception and succession, as was done in my Treatise on Positive Philosophy for the various branches of Science and Industry.

The arts, then, should be classified by the decreasing generality and the increasing intensity, which involves also increasing technicality, of their modes of expression. In its highest term the aesthetic scale connects itself with the scientific scale; and in its lowest with the industrial scale. This is in conformity with the position assigned to Art intermediate between Philosophy and Practical life. Art never becomes disconnected from human interests; but as it becomes less general and more technical, its relation with our higher attributes becomes less intimate, and it is more dependent on inorganic Nature, so that at last the kind of beauty depicted by it is merely material.

On these principles of classification we must give the first place to Poetry properly so called, as being the most general and least technical of the arts, and as being the basis on which all the rest depend. The impressions which it produces are less intense than those of the rest, but its sphere is evidently wider, since it embraces every side of our existence, whether individual, domestic, or social. Poetry, like the special arts, has a closer relation with actions and impulses than with thoughts. Yet the most abstract conceptions are not excluded from its sphere; for not merely can it improve the language in which they are expressed, but it may add to their intrinsic beauty. It is, on the whole, the most popular of all the arts, both on account of its wider scope, and also because, its instruments of expression being taken directly from ordinary language, it is more generally intelligible than any other. True, in the highest kind of poetry versification is necessary; but this cannot be called a special art. The language of Poetry, although distinct in form, is in reality nothing but the language of common men more perfectly expressed. The only technical element in it, prosody, is easily acquired by a few days’ practice. A proof of the identity of the language of Poetry with that of common life, is the fact that no poet has ever been able to write with effect in a foreign or a dead language. And not only is this noblest of Arts more comprehensive, more spontaneous, more popular than the rest, but it surpasses them in that which is the characteristic feature of all art, Ideality. Poetry is the art which idealizes the most, and imitates the least. For these reasons it has always held the first place among the arts; a view which will be strengthened in proportion as we attach greater importance to idealization and less to mere expression. In expression it is inferior to the other arts, which represent such subjects as fall within their compass with greater intensity. But it is from Poetry that these subjects are usually borrowed.

The first term of the series being thus determined, the other arts may at once be ranked according to the degree of their affinity with Poetry. Let us begin by distinguishing the different senses to which they appeal; and we shall find that our series proceeds on the principle which biologists, since Gall’s time, have adopted for the classification of the special senses, the principle of decreasing sociability. There are only two senses which can be called aesthetic; namely, Sight and Hearing: the others having no power of raising us to Idealization. The sense of smell can, it is true, enable us to associate ideas; but in man it exists too feebly for artistic effects. Hearing and Sight correspond to the two modes of natural language, voice and gesture. From the first arises the art of Music; the second, which however is less aesthetic, includes the three arts of form. These are more technical than Music; their field is not so wide, and moreover they stand at a greater distance from poetry; whereas Music remained for a long time identified with it. Another distinction is that the sense to which music appeals performs its function involuntarily; and this is one reason why the emotions which it calls forth are more spontaneous and more deep, though less definite, than in the case where it depends on the will whether we receive the impression or not. Again, the difference between them answers to the distinction of Time and Space. The art of sound represents succession; the arts of form, coexistence. On all these grounds music should certainly be ranked before the other special arts, as the second term of the aesthetic series. Its technical difficulties are exaggerated by pedants, whose interest it is to do so; in reality, special training is less needed for its appreciation, and even for its composition, than in the case of either painting or sculpture. Hence it is in every respect more popular and more social.

Of the three arts which appeal to the voluntary sense of sight, and which present simultaneous impressions, Painting, on the same principle of arrangement, holds the first rank, and Architecture the last; Sculpture being placed between them. Painting alone employs all the methods of visual expression, combining the effects of colour with those of form. Whether in public or private life, its sphere is wider than that of the other two. More technical skill is required in it than in music, and it is harder to obtain; but the difficulty is less than in Sculpture or in Architecture. These latter idealize less, and imitate more. Of the two, Architecture is the less aesthetic. It is far more dependent on technical processes; and indeed most of its productions are rather works of industry than works of art. It seldom rises above material beauty: moral beauty it can only represent by artifices, of which the meaning is often ambiguous. But the impressions conveyed by it are so powerful and so permanent, that it will always retain its place among the fine arts, especially in the case of great public buildings, which stand out as the most imposing record of each successive phase of social development. Never has the power of Architecture been displayed to greater effect than in our magnificent cathedrals, in which the spirit of the Middle Ages has been idealized and preserved for posterity. They exhibit in a most striking manner the property which Architecture possesses of bringing all the arts together into a common centre.

These brief remarks will illustrate the method adopted by the new philosophy in investigating a systematic theory of Art under all its statical aspects. We have now to speak of its action upon social life, whether in the final state of Humanity, or in the transitional movement through which that state is to be reached.

The Positive theory of history shows us at once, in spite of strong prejudices to the contrary, that up to the present time the progress achieved by Art has been, like that of Science and Industry, only preparatory; the conditions essential to its full development never having yet been combined.

Too much has been made of the aesthetic tendencies of the nations of antiquity, owing to the free scope that was given to Imagination in constructing their doctrines. In fact Polytheism, now that the belief in its principles exists no longer, has been regarded as simply a work of art. But the long duration of its principles would be sufficient proof that they were not created by the poets, but that they emanated from the philosophic genius of Humanity working spontaneously, as explained in my theory of human development, in the only way that was then possible. All that Art did for Polytheism was to perform its proper function of clothing it in a more poetic form. It is quite true that the peculiar character of Polytheistic philosophy gave greater scope for the development of Art than has been afforded by any subsequent system. It is to this portion of the theological period that we must attribute the first steps of aesthetic development, whether in society or in the individual. Yet Art was never really incorporated into the ancient order. Its free growth was impossible so long as it remained under the control of Theocracy, which made use of it as an instrument, but which, from the stationary character of its dogmas, shackled its operations. Moreover, the social life of antiquity was highly unfavourable to Art. The sphere of personal feelings and domestic affections was hardly open to it. Public life in ancient times had certainly more vigorous and more permanent features, and here there was a wider field. Yet even in such a case as that of Homer, we feel that he would hardly have spent his extraordinary powers upon descriptions of military life, had there been nobler subjects for his genius. The only grand aspect, viewed socially, that war could offer, the system of incorporation instituted by Rome after a succession of conquests, could not then be foreseen. When that period arrived, ancient history was drawing to a close, and the only poetical tribute to this nobler policy was contained in a few beautiful lines of Virgil’s Aeneid, ending with the remarkable expression,

Pacisque imponere morem.11

Medieval society, notwithstanding irrational prejudices to the contrary, would have been far more favourable to the fine arts, could it have continued longer. I do not speak, indeed, of its dogmas; which were so incompatible with Art, as to lead to the strange inconsistency of giving a factitious sanction to Paganism in the midst of Christianity. By holding personal and chimerical objects before us as the end of life, Monotheism discouraged all poetry, except so far as it related to our individual existence. This, however, was idealized by the mystics, whose beautiful compositions penetrated into our inmost emotions, and wanted nothing but greater perfection of form. All that Catholicism effected for Art in other respects was to secure a better position for it, as soon as the priesthood became strong enough to counteract the intellectual and moral defects of Christian doctrine. But the social life of the Middle Ages was far more aesthetic than that of antiquity. War was still the prevailing occupation; but by assuming a defensive character, it had become far more moral, and therefore more poetic. Woman had acquired a due measure of freedom; and the free development of home affections were thus no longer restricted. There was a consciousness of personal dignity hitherto unknown, and yet quite compatible with social devotion, which elevated individual life in all its aspects. All these qualities were summed up in the noble institution of Chivalry; which gave a strong stimulus to Art throughout Western Europe, and diffused it more largely than in any former period. This movement was in reality, though the fact is not recognized as it should be, the source of modern Art. The reason for its short duration is to be found in the essentially transient and provisional character of medieval society under all its aspects. By the time that its language and habits had become sufficiently stable for the aesthetic spirit to produce works of permanent value, Catholic Feudalism was already undermined by the growing force of the negative movement. The beliefs and modes of life offered for idealization were seen to be declining: and neither the poet nor his readers could feel those deep convictions which the highest purposes of Art require.

During the decline of Chivalry, Art received indirectly an additional impulse from the movement of social decomposition which has been going on rapidly for the last five centuries. In this movement all mental and social influences gradually participated. Negativism, it is true, is not the proper province of Art; but the dogmas of Christianity were so oppressive to it, that its efforts to shake off the yoke were of great service to the cause of general emancipation. Dante’s incomparable work is a striking illustration of this anomalous combination of two contradictory influences. It was a situation unfavourable for art, because every aspect of life was rapidly changing and losing its character before there was time to idealize it. Consequently the poet had to create his own field artificially from ancient history, which supplied him with those fixed and definite modes of life which he could not find around him. Thus it was that for several centuries the Classical system became the sole source of aesthetic culture; the result being that Art lost much of the originality and popularity which had previously belonged to it. That great masterpieces should have been produced at all under such unfavourable circumstances is the best proof of the spontaneous character of our aesthetic faculties. The value of the Classical system has been for some time entirely exhausted; and now that the negative movement has reached its extreme limits there only remained one service (a service of great temporary importance) for Art to render, the idealization of Doubt itself. Such a phase of course admitted of but short duration. The best examples of it are the works of Byron and Goethe, the principle value of which has been, that they have initiated Protestant countries into the unrestricted freedom of thought which emanated originally from French philosophy.

Thus history shows that the aesthetic development of Humanity has been the result of spontaneous tendencies rather than of systematic guidance. The mental conditions most favourable to it have never been fulfilled simultaneously with its social conditions. At the present time both are alike wanting. Yet there is no evidence that our aesthetic faculties are on the decline. Not only has the growth of art proceeded in spite of every obstacle, but it has become more thoroughly incorporated into the life of ordinary men. In ancient times it was cultivated only by a small class. So little was it recognized as a component part of social organization, that it did not even enter into men’s imaginary visions of a future existence. But in the Middle Ages the simplest minds were encouraged to cultivate the sense of beauty as one of the purest delights of human life; and it was held out as the principal occupation of the celestial state. From that time all classes of European society have taken an increasing interest in these elevating pleasures, beginning with poetry, and thence passing to the special arts, especially music, the most social of all. The influence of artists, even when they had no real claim to the title, has been on the increase; until at last the anarchy of the present time has introduced them to political power, for which they are utterly unqualified.

All this would seem to show that the greatest epoch of Art has yet to come. In this respect, as in every other, the Past has but supplied the necessary materials for future reconstruction. What we have seen as yet is but a spontaneous and immature prelude; but in the manhood of our moral and mental powers, the culture of Art will proceed on principles as systematic as the culture of Science and of Industry, both of which at present are similarly devoid of organization. The regeneration of society will be incomplete until Art has been fully incorporated into the modern order. And to this result all our antecedents have been tending. To renew the aesthetic movement so admirably begun in the Middle Ages, but interrupted by classical influences, will form a part of the great work which Positivism has undertaken, the completion and reestablishment of the Medieval structure upon a firmer intellectual basis. And when Art is once restored to its proper place, its future progress will be unchecked, because, as I shall now proceed to show, all the influences of the final order, spontaneous or systematic, will be in every respect favourable to it. If this can be made clear, the poetic capabilities of Positive Philosophy will require no further proof.

As being the only rallying point now possible for fixed convictions, without which life can have no definite or permanent character, Positivism is on this ground alone indispensable to all further development of modern Art. If the poet and his readers are alike devoid of such convictions, no idealization of life, whether personal, domestic, or social, is in any true sense possible. No emotions are fit subjects for Art unless they are felt deeply, and unless they come spontaneously to all. When society has no marked intellectual or moral feature, Art, which is its mirror, can have none either. And although the aesthetic faculty is so innate in us that it never can remain inactive, yet its culture becomes in this case vague and objectless. The fact therefore that Positivism terminates the Revolution by initiating the movement of organic growth is of itself enough to prove its beneficial influence upon Art.

Art, indeed, would profit by any method of reorganization, whatever its nature. But the principle on which Positivism proposes to reconstruct is peculiarly favourable to its growth. The opinions and the modes of life to which that principle conducts are precisely those which are most essential to aesthetic development.

A more aesthetic system cannot be imagined than one which teaches that Feeling is the basis on which the unity of human nature rests; and which assigns as the grand object of man’s existence, progress in every direction, but especially moral progress. It may seem at first as if the tendency of the new philosophy was merely to make us more systematic. And systematization is assuredly indispensable; but the sole object of it is to increase our sympathy and our synergic activity by supplying that fixity of principle which alone can lead to energetic practice. By teaching that the highest happiness is to aid in the happiness of others, Positivism invites the poet to his noblest function, the culture of generous sympathies, a subject far more poetic than the passions of hatred and oppression which hitherto have been his ordinary theme. A system which regards such culture as the highest object cannot fail to incorporate Poetry as one of its essential elements, and to give to it a far higher position than it has ever held before. Science, although it be the source from which the Positive system emanates, will be restricted to its proper function of supplying the objective basis for human prevision; thus giving to Art and Industry, which must always be the principal objects of our attention, the foundation they require. Positivism, substituting in every subject the relative point of view for the absolute, regarding, that is, every subject in its relation to Humanity, would not prosecute the study of the True beyond what is required for the development of the Good and the Beautiful. Beyond this point, scientific culture is a useless expenditure of time, and a diversion from the great end for which Man and Society exist. Subordinate as the ideal must ever be to the real, Art will yet exercise a most salutary influence upon Science, as soon as we cease to study Science in an absolute spirit. In the very simplest phenomena, after reaching the degree of exactness which our wants require, there is always a certain margin of liberty for the imagination; and advantage may very well be taken of this to make our conceptions more beautiful and so far more useful. Still more available is this influence of the Beautiful on the True in the highest subjects, those which directly concern Humanity. Minute accuracy being here more difficult and at the same time less important, more room is left for aesthetic considerations. In representing the great historical types, for instance, Art has its place as well as Science. A society which devotes all its powers to making every aspect of life as perfect as possible, will naturally give preference to that kind of intellectual culture which is of all others the best calculated to heighten our sense of perfection.

The tendency of Positivism to favour these the most energetic of our intellectual faculties and the most closely related to our moral nature, is apparent throughout its educational system. The reader will have seen in the third chapter that in Positive education more importance is attached to Art than to Science, as the true theory of human development requires. Science intervenes only to put into systematic shape what Art, operating under the direct influence of affection, has spontaneously begun. As in the history of mankind aesthetic development preceded scientific development, so it will be with the individual, whose education on the Positive method is but a reproduction of the education of the race. The only rational principle of our absurd classical system is its supposed tendency to encourage poetical training. The futility, however, of this profession is but too evident: the usual result of the system being to implant erroneous notions of all the fine arts, if not utter distaste for them. A striking illustration of its worthlessness is the idolatry with which for a whole century our French pedants regarded Boileau; a most skilful versifier, but of all our poets perhaps the least gifted with true poetic feeling. Positivist education will effect what classical education has attempted so imperfectly. It will familiarize the humblest working man or woman from childhood with all the beauties of the best poets; not those of his own nation merely, but of all the West. To secure the genuineness and efficiency of aesthetic development, attention must first be given to the poets who depict our own modern society. Afterwards, as I have said, the young Positivist will be advised to complete his poetical course, by studying the poets who have idealized antiquity. But his education will not be limited to poetry, it will embrace the special arts of sound and form, by which the principal effects of poetry are reproduced with greater intensity. Thus the contemplation and meditation suggested by Art, besides their own intrinsic charm, will prepare the way for the exercise of similar faculties in Science. For with the individual, as with the species, the combination of images will assist the combination of signs: signs in their origin being images which have lost their vividness. As the sphere of Art includes every subject of human interest, we shall become familiarized, during the aesthetic period of education, with the principal conceptions that are afterwards to be brought before us systematically in the scientific period. Especially will this be true of historical studies. By the time that the pupil enters upon them, he will be already familiar with poetic descriptions of the various social phases, and of the men who played a leading part in them.

And if Art is of such importance in the education of the young, it is no less important in the afterwork of education; the work of recalling men or classes of men to those high feelings and principles which, in the daily business of life, are so apt to be forgotten. In the solemnities, private or public, appointed for this purpose, Positivism will rely far more on impressions such as poetry can inspire, than on scientific explanations. Indeed the preponderance of Art over Science will be still greater than in education properly so called. The scientific basis of human conduct having been already laid down, it will not be necessary to do more than refer to it. The philosophic priesthood will in this case be less occupied with new conceptions, than with the enforcement of truth already known, which demands aesthetic rather than scientific talent.

A vague presentiment of the proper function of Art in regulating public festivals was shown empirically by the Revolutionists. But all their attempts in this direction proved notorious failures; a signal proof that politicians should not usurp the office of spiritual guides. The intention of a festival is to give public expression to deep and genuine feeling; spontaneousness therefore is its first condition. Hence it is a matter with which political rulers are incompetent to deal; and even the spiritual power should only act as the systematic organ of impulses which already exist. Since the decline of Catholicism we have had no festivals worthy of the name; nor can we have them until Positivism has become generally accepted. All that governments could do at present is to exhibit unmeaning and undignified shows before discordant crowds, who are themselves the only spectacles worth beholding. Indeed the usurpation of this function by government is in many cases as tyrannical as it is irrational; arbitrary formulas are often imposed, which answer to no preexisting feeling whatever. Evidently the direction of festivals is a function which more than any other belongs exclusively to the spiritual power, since it is the spiritual power which regulates the tendencies of which these festivals are the manifestation. Here its work is essentially aesthetic. A festival even in private, and still more in public life, is or should be a work of art; its purpose being to express certain feelings by voice or gesture, and to idealize them. It is the most aesthetic of all functions, since it involves usually a complete combination of the four special arts, under the presidence of the primary art, Poetry. On this ground governments have in most cases been willing to waive their official authority in this matter, and to be largely guided by artistic counsel, accepting even the advice of painters and sculptors in the default of poets of real merit.

The aesthetic tendencies of Positivism, with regard to institutions of this kind, are sufficiently evident in the worship of Woman, spoken of in the preceding chapter, and in the worship of Humanity, of which I shall speak more particularly afterwards. From these, indeed, most Positivist festivals, private or public, will originate. But this subject has been already broached, and will be discussed in the next chapter with as much detail as the limits of this introductory work allow.

While the social value of Art is thus enhanced by the importance of the work assigned to it, new and extensive fields for its operations are opened out by Positivism. Chief amongst these is History, regarded as a continuous whole; a domain at present almost untouched.

Modern poets, finding little to inspire them in their own times, and driven back into ancient life by the classical system, have already idealized some of the past phases of Humanity. Our great Corneille, for instance, is principally remembered for the series of dramas in which he has so admirably depicted various periods of Roman history. In our own times where the historical spirit has become stronger, novelists, like Scott and Manzoni, have made similar though less perfect attempts to idealize later periods. Such examples, however, are but spontaneous and imperfect indications of the new field which Positivism now offers to the artist; a field which extends over the whole region of the Past and even of the Future. Until this vast domain had been conceived of as a whole by the philosopher, it would have been impossible to bring it within the compass of poetry. Now theological and metaphysical philosophers were prevented by the absolute spirit of their doctrines from understanding history in all its phases, and were totally incapable of idealizing them as they deserved. Positivism, on the contrary, is always relative; and its principal feature is a theory of history which enables us to appreciate and become familiar with every mode in which human society has formed itself. No sincere Monotheist can understand and represent with fairness the life of Polytheists or Fetishists. But the Positivist poet, accustomed to look upon all past historical stages in their proper filiation, will be able so thoroughly to identify himself with all, as to awaken our sympathies for them, and revive the traces which each individual may recognize of corresponding phases in his own history. Thus we shall be able thoroughly to enter into the aesthetic beauty of the Pagan creeds of Greece and Rome, without any of the scruples which Christians could not but feel when engaged on the same subject. In the Art of the Future all phases of the Past will be recalled to life with the same distinctness with which some of them have been already idealized by Homer and Corneille. And the value of this new source of inspiration is the greater that, at the same time that it is being opened out to the artist, the public is being prepared for its enjoyment. An almost exhaustless series of beautiful creations in epic or dramatic art may be produced, which, by rendering it more easy to comprehend and to glorify the Past in all its phases, will form an essential element, on the one hand, of our educational system, and on the other, of the worship of Humanity.

Lastly, not only will the field for Art become wider, but its organs will be men of a higher stamp. The present system, in which the arts are cultivated by special classes, must be abolished, as being wholly alien to that synthetic spirit which always characterizes the highest poetic genius.

Real talent for Art cannot fail to be called out by the educational system of Positivism, which, though intended for the working classes, is equally applicable to all others. We can only idealize and portray what has become familiar to us; consequently poetry has always rested upon some system of belief, capable of giving a fixed direction to our thoughts and feelings. The greatest poets, from Homer to Corneille, have always participated largely in the best education of which their times admitted. The artist must have clear conceptions before he can exhibit true pictures. Even in these anarchic times, when the system of specialities is being carried to such an irrational extent, the so-called poets who imagine that they can themselves save the trouble of philosophical training, have in reality to borrow a basis of belief from some worn-out metaphysical or theological creed. Their special education, if it can be called so, consists merely in cultivating the talent for expression, and is equally injurious to their intellect and their heart. Incompatible with deep conviction of any kind, while giving mechanical skill in the technical department of Art, it impairs the far more important faculty of idealization. Hence it is that we are at present so deplorably overstocked with verse-makers and literary men, who are wholly devoid of real poetic feeling, and are fit for nothing but to disturb society by their reckless ambition. As for the four special arts, the training for them at present given, being still more technical, is even more hurtful in every respect to the student whose education does not extend beyond it. On every ground, then, artists of whatever kind should begin their career with the same education as the rest of society. The necessity for such an education in the case of women has been already recognized; and it is certainly not less desirable for artists and poets.

Indeed, so aesthetic is the spirit of Positive education, that no special training for Art will be needed, except that which is given spontaneously by practice. There is no other profession which requires so little direct instruction; the tendency of it in Art being to destroy originality, and to stifle the fire of genius with technical erudition. Even for the special arts no professional education is needed. These, like industrial arts, should be acquired by careful practice under the guidance of good masters. The notorious failure of public institutions established for the purpose of forming musicians and painters, makes it unnecessary to dwell further upon this point. Not to speak of their injurious effects upon character, they are a positive impediment to true genius. Poets and artists, then, require no education beyond that which is given to the public, whose thoughts and emotions it is their office to represent. Its want of speciality makes it all the more fit to develop and bring forward real talent. It will strengthen the love of all the fine arts simultaneously; for the connection between them is so intimate that those who make it a boast that their talent is for one of them exclusively will be strongly suspected of having no real vocation for any. All the greatest masters, modern no less than ancient, have shown this universality of taste. Its absence in the present day is but a fresh proof that aesthetic genius does not and cannot exist in times like these, when Art has no social purpose and rests on no philosophic principles. If even amateurs are expected to enjoy Art in all its forms, is it likely that composers of real genius will restrict their admiration to their own special mode of idealization and expression?

Positivism, then, while infusing a profoundly aesthetic spirit into general education, would suppress all special schools of Art on the ground that they impede its true growth, and simply promote the success of mediocrities. When this principle is carried out to its full length, we shall no longer have any special class of artists. The culture of Art, especially of poetry, will be a spontaneous addition to the functions of the three classes which constitute the moral power of society.

Under theocracy, the system by which the evolution of human society was inaugurated, the speculative class absorbed all functions except those relating to the common business of life. No distinction was made between aesthetic and scientific talent. Their separation took place afterwards: and though it was indispensable to the full development of both, yet it forms no part of the permanent order of society, in which the only well-marked division is that between Theory and Practice. Ultimately all theoretic faculties will be again combined even more closely than in primitive times. So long as they are dispersed, their full influence on practical life cannot be realized. Only it was necessary that they should remain dispersed until each constituent element had attained a sufficient degree of development. For this preliminary growth the long period of time that has elapsed since the decline of theocracy was necessary. Art detached itself from the theoretical system before Science, because its progress was more rapid, and from its nature it was more independent. The priesthood had lost its hold of Art, as far back as the time of Homer: but it still continued to be the depositary of science, until it was superseded at first by philosophers strictly so called, afterwards by mathematicians and astronomers. So it was that Art first, and subsequently Science, yielded to the specializing system which, though normal for Industry, is in their case abnormal. It stimulated the growth of our speculative faculties at the time of their escape from the yoke of theocracy: but now that the need for it no longer exists, it is the principal obstacle to the final order, towards which all their partial developments have been tending. To recombine these special elements on new principles is at present the primary condition of social regeneration.

Looking at the two essential functions of the spiritual power, education and counsel, it is not difficult to see that what they require is a combination of poetic feeling with scientific insight. We look for a measure of both these qualities in the public; therefore men who are devoid of either of them cannot be fit to be its spiritual guides. That they take the name of philosophers in preference to that of poets, is because their ordinary duties are more connected with Science than with Art but they ought to be equally interested in both. Science requires systematic teaching, whereas Art is cultivated spontaneously, with the exception of the technical branches of the special arts. It must be remembered that the highest aesthetic functions are not such as can be performed continuously. It is only works of rare excellence which are in the highest sense useful: these, once produced, supply an unfailing source of idealization and expression for our emotions, whether in public or in private. It is enough, if the interpreter of these works and his audience have been so educated as to appreciate what is perfect, and reject mediocrity. Organs of unusual power will arise occasionally, as in former times, from all sections of society, whenever the need of representing new emotions may be felt. But they will come more frequently from the philosophic class in whose character, when it is fully developed, Sympathy will be as prominent a feature as System.

There is, in truth, no organic distinction between scientific and poetic genius. The difference lies merely in their combinations of thought, which are concrete and ideal in the one case, abstract and real in the other. Both employ analysis at starting; both alike aim ultimately at synthesis. The erroneous belief in their incompatibility proceeds merely from the absolute spirit of metaphysical philosophy, which so often leads us to mistake a transitory phase for the permanent order. If it is the fact, as appears, that they have never been actually combined in the same person, it is merely because the two functions cannot be called into action at the same moment. A state of society that calls for great philosophical efforts cannot be favourable to poetry, because it involves a new elaboration of first principles; and it is essential to Art that these should have been already fixed. This is the reason why in history we find periods of aesthetic growth succeeding periods of great philosophical change, but never coexisting. If we look at instances of great minds who were never able to find their proper sphere, we see at once that had they risen at some other time, they might have cultivated either poetry or philosophy, as the case might be, with equal success. Diderot would no doubt have been a great poet in a time more favourable to art; and Goethe, under different political influences, might have been an eminent philosopher. All scientific discoverers in whom the inductive faculty has been more active than the deductive, have given manifest proof of poetic capacity. Whether the powers of invention take an abstract or a concrete direction, whether they are employed in discovering truth or in idealizing it, the cerebral function is always essentially the same. The difference is merely in the objects aimed at; and as these alternate according to the circumstances of the time, they cannot both be pursued simultaneously. The remarkably synthetic character of Buffon’s genius may be looked on historically as an instance of fusion of the scientific and aesthetic spirit. Bossuet is even a more striking instance of a mind equally capable of the deepest philosophy and of the sublimest poetry, had the circumstances of his life given him a more definite impulse in either direction.

It is then not unreasonable to expect, notwithstanding the opinion usually maintained, that the philosophical class will furnish poets of the highest rank when the time calls for them. To pass from scientific thought to aesthetic thought will not be difficult for minds of the highest order; for in such minds there is always a natural inclination towards the work which is most urgently required by their age. To meet the technical conditions of the arts of sound and form, it will be necessary to provide a few special masters, who, in consideration of the importance of their services to general education, will be looked upon as accessory members of the new spiritual power. But even here the tendency to specialities will be materially restricted. This exceptional position will only be given to men of sufficient aesthetic power to appreciate all the fine arts; and they should be capable of practising at least the three arts of form simultaneously, as was done by Italian painters in the sixteenth century.

As an ordinary rule, it is only by their appreciation and power of explaining ideal Art in all its forms that our philosophers will exhibit their aesthetic faculty. They will not be actively engaged in aesthetic functions, except in the arrangement of public festivals. But when the circumstances of the time are such as to call for great epic or dramatic works, which implies the absence of any philosophical question of the first importance, the most powerful minds among them will become poets in the common sense of the word. As the work of Coordination and that of Idealization will for the future alternate with greater rapidity, we might conceive them, were man’s life longer, performed by the same organ. But the shortness of life, and the necessity of youthful vigour for all great undertakings, excludes this hypothesis. I only mention it to illustrate the radical identity of two forms of mental activity which are often supposed incompatible.

An additional proof of the aesthetic capacity of the moderating power in works of less difficulty, but admitting of greater frequency, will be furnished by its feminine element. In the special arts, or at least in the arts of form, but little can be expected of them, because these demand more technical knowledge than they can well acquire, and, moreover, the slow process of training would spoil the spontaneousness which is so admirable in them. But for all poetic composition which does not require intense or prolonged effort, women of genius are better qualified than men. This they should consider as their proper department intellectually, since their nature is not well adapted for the discovery of scientific truth. When women have become more systematically associated with the general movement of society under the influence of the new system of education, they will do much to elevate that class of poetry which relates to personal feelings and to domestic life. Women are already better judges of such poetry than men; and there is no reason why they should not excel them in composing it. For the power of appreciating and that of producing are in reality identical; the difference is in degree only, and it depends greatly upon culture. The only kind of composition which seems to me to be beyond their power is epic or dramatic poetry in which public life is depicted. But in all its other branches, poetry would seem their natural field of study; and one which, regarded always as an exceptional occupation, is quite in keeping with the social duties assigned to them. The affections of our home life cannot be better portrayed than by those in whom they are found in their purest form, and who, without training, combine talent and expression with the tendency to idealize. Under a more perfect organization, then, of the aesthetic world than prevails at present, the larger portion of poetical and perhaps also of musical productions, will pass into the hands of the more loving sex. The advantage of this will be that the poetry of private life will then rise to that high standard of moral purity of which it so peculiarly admits, but which our coarser sex can never attain without struggles which injure its spontaneity. The simple grace of Lafontaine and the delicate sweetness of Petrarch will then be found united with deeper and purer sympathies, so as to raise lyrical poetry to a degree of perfection that has never yet been attained.

The popular element of the spiritual power has not so well marked an aptitude for art, since the active nature of their occupations hardly admits of the same degree of intellectual life. But there is a minor class of poems, where energy of character and freedom from worldly cares are the chief sources of inspiration, for which working men are better adapted than women, and far more so than philosophers. When Positivist education has extended sufficiently to the People of the West, poets and musicians will spontaneously arise, as in many cases they have already risen, to give expression to its own special aspirations. But independently of what may be due to individual efforts, the People as a whole has an indirect but most important influence upon the Progress of Art, from the fact of being the principal source of language.

Such, then, is the position which Art will finally assume in the Positive system. There will be no class at present, exclusively devoted to it, with the exception of a few special masters. But there will be a general education, enabling every class to appreciate all the modes of idealization, and encouraging their culture among the three elements which constitute the moral force of society and which are excluded from political government. Among these there will be a division of aesthetic labour. Poetry descriptive of public life will emanate from the philosophic class. The poetry of personal or domestic life will be written by women or working men, according as affection or energy may be the source of inspiration. Thus the form of mental activity most appropriate to Humanity will be more specially developed among those classes in which the various features of our nature are most prominently exhibited. The only classes who cannot participate in this pleasant task are those whose life is occupied by considerations of power or wealth, and whose enjoyment of Art, though heightened by the education which they in common with others will receive, must remain essentially passive. Our idealizing powers will henceforth be directly concentrated on a work of the highest social importance, the purification of our moral nature. The speciality by which so much of the natural charm of Art was lost will cease, and the moral dangers of a life exclusively devoted to the faculty of expression, will exist no longer.

I have now shown the position which Art will occupy in the social system as finally constituted. I have yet to speak of its influence in the actual movement of regeneration which Positivism is inaugurating. We have already seen that each of the three classes who participate in this movement, assumes functions similar to those for which it is ultimately destined; performing them in a more strenuous, though less methodic way. This is obviously true of the philosophic class who head the movement; nor is it less true of the proletariate, from whom it derives its vigour, or of women, whose support gives it a moral sanction. It is, therefore, at first sight probable that the same will hold good of the aesthetic conditions which are necessary to the completeness of these three functions of the social organism. On closer examination we shall find that this is the case.

The principal function of Art is to construct types on the basis furnished by Science. Now this is precisely what is required for inaugurating the new social system. However perfectly its first principles may be elaborated by thinkers, they will still be not sufficiently definite for the practical result. Systematic study of the Past can only reveal the Future in general outline. Even in the simpler sciences perfect distinctness is impossible without overstepping the limits of actual proof. Still more, therefore, in Sociology will the conclusions of Science fall always far short of that degree of precision and clearness, without which no principle can be thoroughly popularized. But at the point where Philosophy must always leave a void, Poetry steps in and stimulates to practical action. In the early periods of Polytheism, Poetry repaired the defects of the system viewed dogmatically. Its value will be even greater in idealizing a system founded, not upon imagination, but upon observation of fact. In the next chapter I shall dwell at greater length on the service which Poetry will render in representing the central conception of Positivism. It will be easy to apply the same principle to other cases.

In his efforts to accomplish this object, the Positivist poet will naturally be led to form prophetic pictures of the regeneration of Man, viewed in every aspect that admits of being ideally represented. And this is the second service which Art will render to the cause of social renovation; or rather it is an extension of the first. Systematic formation of Utopias will in fact become habitual; on the distinct understanding that, as in every other branch of art, the ideal shall be kept in subordination to the real. The unlimited license which is apparently given to Utopias by the unsettled character of the time is in reality a bar to their practical influence, since even the wildest dreamers shrink from extravagance that oversteps the ordinary conditions of mental sanity. But when it is once understood that the sphere of Imagination is simply that of explaining and giving life to the conclusions of Reason, the severest thinkers will welcome its influence; because so far from obscuring truth, it will give greater distinctness to it than could be given by Science unassisted. Utopias have, then, their legitimate purpose, and Positivism will strongly encourage their formation. They form a class of poetry which, under sound sociological principles, will prove of material service in leading the people of the West towards the normal state. Each of the five modes of Art may participate in this salutary influence; each in its own way may give a foretaste of the beauty and greatness of the new life that is now offered to the individual, to the family, and to society.

From this second mode in which Art assists the great work of reconstruction we pass naturally to a third, which at the present time is of equal importance. To remove the spell under which the Western nations are still blinded to the Future by the decayed ruins of the Past, all that is necessary is to bring these ruins into comparison with the prophetic pictures of which we have been speaking. Since the decline of Catholicism in the fourteenth century, Art has exhibited a critical spirit alien to its true nature, which is essentially synthetic. Henceforth it is to be constructive rather than critical; yet this is not incompatible with the secondary object of contending against opinions, and still more against modes of life, which ought to have died out with the Catholic system, or with the revolutionary period which followed it. But resistance to some of the most deeply-rooted errors of the Past will not interfere with the larger purpose of Positivist Art. No direct criticism will be needed. Whether against theological or against metaphysical dogmas, argument is henceforth needless, even in a philosophical treatise, much more so in poetry. All that is needed is simple contrast, which in most cases would be implied rather than expressed, of the procedure of Positivism and Catholicism in reference to similar social and moral problems. The scientific basis of such a contrast, is already furnished; it is for Art to do the rest, since the appeal should be to Feeling rather than to Reason. At the close of the last chapter I mentioned the principal case in which this comparison would have been of service, the introduction, namely, of Positivism to the two Southern nations. It was the task that I had marked out for my saintly fellow-worker, for it is one in which the aesthetic powers of women would be peculiarly available.

In this, the third of its temporary functions, Positivist Art approximates to its normal character. We have spoken of its idealization of the Future, but here it will idealize the Past also. Positivism cannot be accepted until it has rendered the fullest and most scrupulous justice to Catholicism. Our poets, so far from detracting from the moral and political worth of the medieval system, will begin by doing all the honour to it that is consistent with philosophical truth, as a prelude to the still higher beauty of the system which supersedes it. It will be the inauguration of their permanent office of restoring the Past to life. For it is equally in the interest of systematic thought and of social sympathy that the relation of the Past to the Future should be deeply impressed upon all.

But these three steps towards the incorporation of Art into the final order, though not far distant, cannot be taken immediately. They presuppose a degree of intellectual preparation which is not yet reached either by the public or by its aesthetic teachers. The present generation under which, in France, the great revolution is now peacefully entering upon its second phase, may diffuse Positivism largely, not merely amongst qualified thinkers, but among the people of Paris, who are entrusted with the destinies of Western Europe, and among women of nobler nature. The next generation, growing up in the midst of this movement, may, before the expiration of a century from the date of the Convention, complete spontaneously the moral and mental inauguration of the new system, by exhibiting the new aesthetic features which Humanity in her regenerate condition will assume.

Let us now sum up the conclusions of this chapter. We have found Positive Philosophy peculiarly favourable to the continuous development of all the fine arts. A doctrine which encourages Humanity to strive for perfection of every kind, cannot but foster and assimilate that form of mental activity by which our sense of perfection is so highly stimulated. It controls the Ideal, indeed, by systematic study of the Real; but only in order to furnish it with an objective basis, and so to secure its coherence and its moral value. Placed on this footing, our aesthetic faculties are better adapted than the scientific, both to the nature and range of our understanding, and also to that which is the object of all intellectual effort, the organization of human unity. For they are more immediately connected with Feeling, on which the unity of our nature must rest. Next to direct culture of the heart, it is in ideal Art that we shall find the best assistance in our efforts to become more loving and more noble.

Logically, Art should have a salutary influence upon our intellectual faculties, because it familiarizes us from childhood with the features by which all constructive efforts of man should be characterized. Science has for a long time preferred the analytic method, whereas Art, even in these times of anarchy, always aims at Synthesis, which is the final goal of all intellectual activity. Even when Art, contrary to its nature, undertakes to destroy, it cannot do its work, whatever it be, without constructing. Thus, by implanting a taste and faculty for ideal construction, Art enables us to build with greater effect than ever upon the more stubborn soil of reality.

On all these grounds Art, in the Positive system, is made the primary basis of general education. In a subsequent stage education assumes a more scientific character, with the object of supplying systematic notions of the external world. But in after life Art resumes its original position. There the ordinary functions of the spiritual power will be aesthetic rather than scientific. The three elements of which the modifying power is composed will become spontaneously the organs of idealization, a function which will henceforth never be dissociated from the power of philosophic synthesis.

Such a combination implies that the new philosophers shall have a true feeling for all the fine arts. In ordinary times passive appreciation of them will suffice; but there will occasionally be periods where philosophic effort ceases to be necessary, and which call rather for the vigour of the poet; and at these times the more powerful minds among them should be capable of rising to the loftiest creative efforts. Difficult as the condition may be, it is essential to the full degree of moral influence of which their office admits and which their work requires. The priest of Humanity will not have attained his full measure of superiority over the priest of God, until, with the intellect of the Philosopher, he combines the enthusiasm of the Poet, as well as the tenderness of Woman, and the People’s energy.