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agreeable, with which the fine arts are not concerned. They only caress
the senses, while relaxing and creating languidness, and only relate to
external nature, not at all to the inner nature of man. A good number of
our romances and of our tragedies, particularly those that bear the name
of dramas--a sort of compromise between tragedy and comedy--a good number
also of those highly-appreciated family portraits, belong to this class.
The only effect of these works is to empty the lachrymal duct, and soothe
the overflowing feelings; but the mind comes back from them empty, and
the moral being, the noblest part of our nature, gathers no new strength
whatever from them. "It is thus," says Kant, "that many persons feel
themselves edified by a sermon that has nothing edifying in it." It
seems also that modern music only aims at interesting the sensuous, and
in this it flatters the taste of the day, which seeks to be agreeably
tickled, but not to be startled, nor strongly moved and elevated.
Accordingly we see music prefer all that is tender; and whatever be the
noise in a concert-room, silence is immediately restored, and every one
is all ears directly a sentimental passage is performed. Then an
expression of sensibility common to animalism shows itself commonly on
all faces; the eyes are swimming with intoxication, the open mouth is all
desire, a voluptuous trembling takes hold of the entire body, the breath
is quick and full, in short, all the symptoms of intoxication appear.
This is an evident proof that the senses swim in delight, but that the
mind or the principle of freedom in man has become a prey to the violence
of the sensuous impression. Real taste, that of noble and manly minds,
rejects all these emotions as unworthy of art, because they only please
the senses, with which art has nothing in common.

But, on the other hand, real taste excludes all extreme affections, which
only put sensuousness to the torture, without giving the mind any
compensation. These affections oppress moral liberty by pain, as the
others by voluptuousness; consequently they can excite aversion, and not
the emotion that would alone be worthy of art. Art ought to charm the
mind and give satisfaction to the feeling of moral freedom. This man who
is a prey to his pain is to me simply a tortured animate being, and not a
man tried by suffering. For a moral resistance to painful affections is
already required of man--a resistance which can alone a