the attempt is hazarded from a deep sense of the beauty and practical necessity of the theory, and from a desire to establish it in the esteem of those who are watching for every thing that tends to reproduce the divine life in human hearts. "At first sight, Schiller's theory would seem to have no rela tion at all to any question of morals or of Christian culture. But this is owing solely to its abstract and aesthetic form. It seems intended to establish, by metaphysical disquisition, the laws which develope, at the best, only a true artist, or a good citizen of the state. Its composition was prompted by the events of the French Revolution, that great effort of the individual to annihilate the state, and substitute every shade and extreme of idiosyncrasy in place of that legal development and composite order of humanity which respects the state, because that is the finest result of the man. Schiller seems only to wish to solve that political problem, without recourse to experience: Can there be a pure state, and at the same time a pure humanity? or rather, What instrumentality will effect the latter, in order to create the former? He states the fine arts to be this medium, beauty to be a necessity of humanity, and the secret of culture to consist in the final equipoise of opposing impulses by its agency. And, at first sight, all the significance of his theory seems to be exhausted at this point alone. Even Herder called it one-sided and partial, probably because its form was purely æsthetic, while he must have seen that it was capable of a Christian application, and was intended to minister to every want of the human soul, whether political, moral, or artistic. The Reviewer sees this potential capacity of the theory, but considers it nevertheless to be deficient when carried to its ultimates. To us rather it seems eminently to subserve the cause of Christianity, and, for a pure product of the intellect, to be singularly manifold and exhaustive. It states a prime condition for the successful embodiment of Christianity in the life of man. "If Schiller meant to declare that the evolution of this ideal beauty, and the consequent equilibrium of reason and desire, of the subjective and the objective man (person and condition), completed man's culture, established a virtuous character, and fulfilled his destiny, the Reviewer might well object; since such a declaration would only raise a problem that would remain for ever innocent of a solution, namely, How can this ideal beauty secure the absolute right? how can it, furthermore, decide the will in favor of that right? If Schiller meant to say that the play-impulse was equivalent to love, or even charity, that virtue was an affection of the passive nature, or that the said impulse could nerve a struggle against desire in favor of duty; if, in fine, it was his object to show, by means of his theory, that man can originate and put into practical operation the means of positive virtue,—that he is at once lever and fulcrum, weight and power, we might well thank the Reviewer for exposing the hateful visage of this idolatry, and for reprobating a system that would make revelation superfluous, and leave unanswered all the imminent question of grace and prayer. But to us, we speak in deference, and yet with a feeling of great certainty, -to us Schiller appears to be guilty of no such blunders, but, on the contrary, to frame a theory which virtually excludes their possibility. -- "Briefly, the validity of his theory depends upon the force and meaning given to the play-impulse. If we can precisely define its function, we shall be able to decide whether or not the theory in question is ultimately Christian. 6 "The Esthetic Letters are an attempt to display the process which evolves man's freedom. Schiller explains, that he does not mean that freedom which necessarily appertains to man, considered as an intelligence, and which can neither be given to man nor taken from him; but that which is based upon his compound nature.' p. 93. If this freedom, or equipoise of man's two essential ingredients, the residue of a last analysis, and the corroboration of his humanity, can be secured, he is thus, and thus alone, able to make definite acquisitions, to fulfil the laws of right, and to express in life all the moral truth of which he is conscious. It is evident that we are now giving his theory its Christian application, purposely avoiding to notice its capacity to include the citizen or the artist. Schiller confines himself throughout to this simple proposition of the necessity of freedom as the condition of culture. He does not say how man acquires a cognition of that duty which this state of freedom alone can make available to him; whether it is an idea of the pure reason, or whether it is revealed to him ab extra. The decision of that question is not necessary to the integrity of his theory; no matter in what way the ideas of right and of duty are presented to man, he can realize them successfully only through this preëstablished harmony, this freedom of his compound nature. Till that is gained, the free-will which he possesses as an intelligence is a superfluous and only potential energy. It can act with vigorous accuracy only when freed from either of his two ground-impulses, that is, when they mutually cancel each other, as forces, by the creation of an equipoise. But what shall create it? What shall induce this state in man, which is neither subjectively nor objectively contingent, and yet neither internally nor externally constrained, the state of play or freedom? Schiller declares, that the intuition of beauty can alone create it, and evolve this play-impulse, which is not a force, but only the condition, the appearance, of a force, as a certain indeterminate state of water must precede its crystallization. It is a condition of mere determinableness, and yet without it no determination can ensue. "The Letters themselves sufficiently and happily explain the va lidity of the division of man's nature into two primary impulses, the possibility of their indifferentism, or the evolution of the playimpulse, and also the manner in which the cognition of beauty can effect it. As the æsthetic inclination of the mind gives the first impulse to freedom, it is easy to perceive that it cannot result from freedom, and consequently can have no moral origin. It must be a gift of nature; favoring accident alone can loose the bonds of the physical condition, and lead the savage to the shrine of beauty.'p. 129. Yet it is an accident which has all the conditions of universality and necessity. Nature is invariable in this respect, and everywhere makes her first attempt upon the mind as beauty. If Schiller seems, in any place, to make it a condition of certain circumstances and favorable conjunctures, he refers to the development of the ideal beauty; but even the savage is rescued from his animality by delight in show, inclination for ornament and for play.' The progress of the race from the necessitous state of nature to the state of freedom, which evolves the highest beauty, as among the Greeks, is described with great felicity in Letters XXVI. and XXVII. But all of them have such a strict logical sequence from the very first, and so skilfully develope the main idea, while clearing away objections, that to designate the particular scope of any fragment is only to tempt objections, which, after all, do not impinge upon the main design. "To return. That this cognition of beauty is the only effective medium for the production of freedom will be evident when we attempt to apply any other known process or method of influence. In vain will you make a representation of truth, with the hope of bringing the will into harmony with duty. The will has not yet been provided with a free arena for its volitive power, and to say that any representation of duty will create this freedom is to say that the house can build the workmen. The will cannot make choice of duty, and attempt to fulfil the high requisitions of religion, till it is extricated from the distracting warfare of two impulses yet in a state of nature. That particular degree of culture is prerequisite which consists in removing the constraint of nature, and substituting an intermediate condition, which the will can take advantage of for the ulterior purposes of growth. The earth, with its cold moisture, its dark and coarse grains and passages, can never quicken the willing seed; the air, with its warmth and sunlight, a vast solution of vegetative principles, cannot tempt forth a single fibre to take root in nothing. But a mutual equipoise of these extremes, in lively activity and yet in harmony, is the only condition upon which the germ will put forth its capacities and establish its personality. The realization of the great law of duty is man's destiny; to that all culture points; the end cannot itself be a prelimi nary, the undeveloped and embarrassed will cannot do homage to the right, any more than a kraal of Hottentots can worship the tenderness of Raphael, or the majesty of Michel Angelo. "Schiller still farther proves that the cognition of beauty is the only medium for the production of freedom, by proving that beauty is a necessity of humanity, and that its first development in any race or clime, whether rude and fragmentary or graceful and complete, is the first evolution of the play-impulse, which is equivalent to freedom. This requires an examination of experience and a historical treatment, better suited to an artistic discussion than to the purely abstract method pursued by Schiller. Still, a few hints and indications of facts sufficiently define his meaning, while they prove that moral culture has hitherto advanced, up to a certain point, in exact proportion to the development of the idea of beauty, even of that imperfect beauty afforded by experience. In man, as presented by experience, beauty finds an already depraved and perverse matter, which robs it of its ideal perfection, in proportion as he blends with that his individual disposition. Far from defining its conception, with the crowd of critics, from isolated phenomena, and making itself responsible for the deficiency which man displays under its influence, we know, rather, that it is man who transfers to beauty the incompleteness of his individuality.' — p. 80. He contrasts Rome with Greece to show that moral culture has advanced in exact proportion to the development of beauty, as far as a certain point. This point has always been identical with the point of highest cognition of the idea of right. The Greek nature was an example of perfect equipoise and freedom; the reason why so much, and yet why no more, determination ensued, is to be found in the degree to which truth and duty were cognized. The race was susceptible, but the moment did not favor, compared with the present. Now, the favoring moment finds an unsusceptible race.? "We now see the reason why Schiller, in common with all the highest minds of Germany, lays so much stress upon the phenomenon of Grecian art and culture. Seen from his point of view, it appears as if Greece was intended to symbolize to us the æsthetic state of freedom, which is the condition for all positive life, for the realization of all deeds of heroism and virtue. Its broad and equable development contrasts nobly with our one-sided and fragmentary culture, and we almost forget its indifferentism when contemplating its character of harmony and repose. The intensity of our modern life, the morbid growth of single faculties, the univer. sal respect for the function as the unit-measure of the man, the million mental deformities which obtain in our social state, do more than spoil artists, scholars, citizens, and are quite as fatal to the heart as to the head. Our will is not free, as much because our culture offers it no vantage-ground of freedom and repose, as be33 VOL. III. NO. II. cause certain passions and habits keep it down, like Gulliver fastened with a million hairs. Every thing concurs to mar our natures, and defeat our destiny, the passional man rules with blind force, and interferes to complete the confusion commenced by a false development of intellect, and a culture which does not give us harmony and freedom, but only civilization and disease. A nineteenth century full of ancient Greeks would be full of better Christians. Had the old Athens of Plato been in that line of culture which went forth from the manger in Bethlehem, there would have been a veritable Zion; because the culture of the Greek secured to him his will, while the revelation of Christ would have manifested to him the way. "At the foot of the broad staircase of the Louvre, which leads to the picture-gallery, where modern art has collected numerous symbols of diseased modern culture, odds and ends of mind, monstrosities, partial beauties, entire shams, intense passions of the theatre and the pot-house, battle-pieces, portraits with eyes and noses of determined idiosyncrasy, there stands an antique bust of Jupiter. The stranger, eager to ascend the marble steps and revel in all the promised beauties of his catalogue, is arrested, in spite of his hot dilettantism, by that majestic antique, whose repose and self-sufficiency convey the keenest rebuke to the child of modern culture, hastening to distract and belittle himself still farther with the novel trifles of modern art. With what a godlike indifference do the serene eyes look forth beyond the bustle and empressement of that broad and splendid staircase, up which continually streams a current of little fragments of men and women, but no whole nature! It must be a man of uncommon impertinence who can gaze unabashed at that countenance of freedom, and who does not feel humbled beneath that expression of potential will. One is willing to linger for ever at the portal, and the obligation to go and see the pictures suddenly becomes distasteful and intrusive. The spell was hidden in that old chisel, long ago rusted and rotted, which struck out these lineaments of a self-poised nature, of a will waiting for its highest object. If only some green peak of the Olympic ridge had overshadowed Nazareth, and to a race so susceptible had been revealed its highest destiny! "But it were foolish in us to ignore so rich an experience as that ancient culture, and refuse to define it, to appropriate its lesson and make it tell upon the life of to-day. The Catholic Church has herself done the next best thing. She has filled her chapels with sweet faces of Mary, and holy, suffering faces of martyred saints; the vistas of her majestic naves are closed with canvass made immortal by Annunciations, Ascensions, or that divine and melting tragedy of sorrow; the Mass of Mozart sweeps over that sea of bending hearts, so full of surging passions, like the voice of Jesus |