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            <title>IDEA IN THE THEORY OF ART: PHILOSOPHY OR RHETORIC?</title>
            <author><name> Ernst H. J.</name>
               <surname>Gombrich</surname>
            </author>
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               <p>Biblioteca digitale Progetto Agorà</p>
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               <title level="m">IDEA IN THE THEORY OF ART: PHILOSOPHY OR RHETORIC?</title>
               <author>Ernst H. J. Gombrich</author>
               <title level="a"/>
               <publisher>Edizioni dell'Ateneo</publisher>
               <editor/>
               <pubPlace>Roma</pubPlace>
               <idno type="isbn"/>
               <biblScope> pp. 411-420 (Collana Lessico Intellettuale Europeo, LI)</biblScope>
               <date/>
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      <front>
         <titlePage>
            <docAuthor>Ernst H. J. Gombrich</docAuthor>
            <docTitle>
               <titlePart>IDEA IN THE THEORY OF ART: PHILOSOPHY OR RHETORIC?</titlePart>
            </docTitle>
         </titlePage>
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      <body>
         <pb n="411" facs="IDEA/IDEA_411.jpg"/>
         <p> According to the much-quoted remark of Whitehead the whole of West-<lb/>ern philosophy
            is a series of footnotes to Plato. If he was right, as I think he<lb/>was, the
            twenty-one <hi rend="italic">relazioni</hi> of this <hi rend="italic">colloquio</hi>
            have added at least 20 new and<lb/>important footnotes, and since these were commented
            upon in the discussion<lb/>there are more footnotes to these footnotes. I am sure you
            will appreciate<lb/>that if I now attempted in my turn to comment on these footnotes and
            their<lb/>progeny we would arrive at an infinite regress, or possibly at an infinite
            con-<lb/>gress. Admittedly this transition to eternity would not frighten us, the
            partici-<lb/>pants, for who would not enjoy to continue these discussions and to
            benefit<lb/>forever from the hospitality of our wonderful hosts? The question is only,
            how<lb/>long our hosts could sustain the burden of such an infinite congress and I
            must<lb/>limit myself therefore to a few remarks only in addition to those you
            have<lb/>seen printed in the “Messaggero” and displayed on the notice board of
            this<lb/>aula <note xml:id="ftn0" place="foot" n="1"> The reference is to an article in
               “Il Messaggero”, 2nd January 1989, p. 14, on the eve<lb/>of the conference. </note>. </p>
         <p> What struck me, as a student of art, in these contributions is the
            frequent<lb/>reference to the experience of seeing, of visual perception, in the many
            trans-<lb/>formations of the concept of <hi rend="italic">idea</hi>. Not that this is
            surprising. We have learned<lb/>from Professor Saffrey’s introduction, that in ancient
            Greek the word <hi rend="italic">idea<lb/></hi> clearly signified «the outward
            appearance of things perceived by the sense of<lb/>sight». I believe that many of the
            subsequent contributions offered interesting<lb/>reminders of the fact that the very
            word “seeing”, or its equivalents, prefi-<lb/>gures the multiplicity of meanings which
            the term idea inherited, as it were. </p>
         <p> I would never complain about this multiplicity. I side with those who<lb/>have reminded
            us of the value of plasticity in the use of words. If every term<lb/>of the language
            were only allowed one meaning that excluded any metaphori-<lb/>cal use, we could never
            acquire such a vocabulary let alone use it for commu-<lb/>nication. I hope that some of
            you will <hi rend="italic">see</hi> this danger. </p>
         <pb n="412" facs="IDEA/IDEA_412.jpg"/>
         <p> I believe in fact that it is only in the encounter with concrete problems<lb/>that the
            ambiguity of language can be noticed and resolved. As a student of art<lb/>interested in
            representation I remember that the artist could be asked to repre-<lb/>sent faithfully
            what he sees, let us say his hand, and that there are means of<lb/>checking whether he
            has achieved this aim. But when he is asked to repre-<lb/>sent to us how he sees his
            hand while, for instance, focussing elsewhere, the<lb/>task becomes more elusive.
            Critics from Roger de Piles and Hogarth to the<lb/>Impressionists have reminded us of
            this difficulty <note xml:id="ftn1" place="foot" n="2"> Cf. my book <hi rend="italic"
                  >The Sense of Order</hi> , Oxford 1979 (Italian edition <hi rend="italic">II Senso
                  dell’ordine,</hi> Torino<lb/>1984), Ch. IV, Sect. 2-3. </note> which ultimately
            under-<lb/>mines the whole concept of <hi rend="italic">mimesis.</hi>
         </p>
         <p> We know that from the outset Plato devalued seeing and therefore <hi rend="italic"
               >mimesis<lb/> as mere belief, </hi>
            <hi rend="italic">doxa.</hi> But he held fast to the <hi rend="italic">episteme</hi>
            mediated by geometry.<lb/>The famous inscription over the gate of the Academy — however
            apocryphal<lb/>it may be: μηδείς άζεωμέτρητος είσιτω. (Let no one enter who does not
            know<lb/>geometry) <note xml:id="ftn2" place="foot" n="3"> For the sources see A. SWIFT
               RIGINOS, <hi rend="italic">Platonica, The anecdotes concerning the life and writings
                  of<lb/>Plato</hi> («Columbia Studies in the Classical Tradition» ed. W. V. Harris
               et al., Ill) Leiden 1976,<lb/>pp. 138 ff. The argument derives essentially from <hi
                  rend="italic">Republic,</hi> 510, D, E. </note> provides the most useful paradigm
            of his theory of knowledge.<lb/>Nobody has ever seen or drawn a real triangle of which
            the three angles add<lb/>up to 180°, but we can all think of it and of the consequences
            of this fact. We<lb/>can think of it, because we have seen the real triangle before our
            soul entered<lb/>our body and it is this doctrine of <hi rend="italic">anamnesis</hi>
            which explains our limited grasp of<lb/>ideas. </p>
         <p> Professor Gregory has reminded us yesterday of the central role which<lb/>theology
            plays in the history of Western philosophy. The fact that the doc-<lb/>trine of <hi
               rend="italic">anamnesis</hi> clashes with the central belief of Christianity in the
            divine<lb/>creation of every individual soul at the moment of conception seems to me
            to<lb/>be of much importance in the further modifications of Plato’s wholly
            self-con-<lb/>sistent system of thoughts. True, his firm belief in the immortality of
            the soul<lb/>recommended him to theologians, but pre-existence had somehow to
            be<lb/>glossed over or eliminated. There is no such pre-existence in Aristotle,
            but<lb/>then his view of the soul as the form of the body was not so easily
            reconciled<lb/>with immortality, as Pomponazzi was bold enough to show. </p>
         <p> I think it is before the background of these momentous issues that we<lb/>must see the
            debate to which this colloquio has been devoted, and not least<lb/>also those concerned
            with the theory of art. Remember for instance the<lb/>solemn words which Vasari devoted
            to Michelangelo’s <hi rend="italic">Last Judgment·.</hi> «E ques-<lb/>to nell’arte
            nostra è quello esempio e quella gran pittura mandata da Dio agli </p>
         <pb n="413" facs="IDEA/IDEA_413.jpg"/>
         <p> uomini in terra, acciocché veggano come il fato fa, quando gli intelletti
            dal<lb/>supremo grado in terra discendono, ed hanno in essi infusa la grazia e la
            divi-<lb/>nità del sapere» <note xml:id="ftn3" place="foot" n="4"> G. VASARI, <hi
                  rend="italic">Le Vite,</hi> ed. Milanesi, VII, Firenze 1881, pp. 214-215. </note>.
            Vasari does not use the word idea here but the sentiment<lb/>derives of course from the
               <hi rend="italic">Theologia Platonica. It may therefore serve me as a<lb/>transition
               to the topic of my <hi rend="italic">relazione</hi> as I had originally planned it, I
               refer to<lb/>the famous book by Erwin Panofsky, </hi>
            <hi rend="italic">Idea. Ein Beitrag zur Begriffsgeschichte der<lb/>älteren
            Kunsttheorie,</hi> originally published by the Warburg Institute in Hamburg in<lb/>1924,
            about 65 years ago <note xml:id="ftn4" place="foot" n="5"> The Italian translation,
               Firenze 1952, has a preface by Edmondo Cione. </note>. </p>
         <p> In reluctantly yielding to the request of preparing a revised edition in<lb/>1960 the
            author somewhat distanced himself from his early work. He<lb/>explained very frankly how
            far he considered it out of date, but merely added<lb/>a bibliography of writings which
            had been published on the topic in the inter-<lb/>vening decades. I must leave them and
            many other points on one side<lb/>because I think that Panofsky’s <hi rend="italic"
            >Idea</hi> in its original form still deserves to be<lb/>called a classic. It represents
            a highly significant stage in the historiography of<lb/>ideas and may therefore be all
            the more useful to us in pointing to certain<lb/>problems of method which have, in my
            view, contributed to a change in our<lb/>point of view. </p>
         <p>The book is very short, only 72 pages of text though almost as many<lb/>pages of notes
            and appendices in smaller print. Naturally I cannot offer an<lb/>adequate summary and I
            must hope all the more that this brief outline and<lb/>any critical remarks which will
            follow will not prevent you from reading the<lb/>original text which must give anyone
            pleasure who can appreciate intellectual<lb/>ingenuity combined with immense erudition.</p>
         <p> The first chapter on the ancient world lends itself comparatively easily to<lb/> a
            précis. Taking Plato’s theory of ideas and his views on art more or less as<lb/>read,
            Panofsky opens the discussion with a brilliant analysis of the passage in<lb/>Cicero’s
               <hi rend="italic">Orator</hi> where the perfect orator is described as an idea that
            cannot be<lb/>found in reality but only conceived by the mind. Cicero compares this
            image<lb/>with the creations of artists who must strive to transcend the beauty of
            real<lb/>things and even the beauty of previous works of art. </p>
         <p> Though Cicero refers to Plato in this passage it is clear that he has trans-<lb/>formed
            his views. He has offered a synthesis between Plato’s doctrine and<lb/>that of Aristotle
            who had located <hi rend="italic">eidos</hi> in the mind of the artist, identifying
            it,<lb/>for instance, with the architect’s plan for a house before that house is
            ever<lb/>built. In thus setting up the Platonic view as his thesis, the Aristotelian as
            his<lb/>antithesis and the Ciceronian passage as his synthesis, Panofsky arrives at
            a<lb/></p>
         <pb n="414" facs="IDEA/IDEA_414.jpg"/>
         <p> cognitive map onto which he can enter other currents of thought. Seneca, in<lb/>talking
            of the painter interprets the idea almost exclusively as a psychological<lb/>notion, a
            mental image. Plotinus, of course, reverts to Platonic metaphysics<lb/>but concedes the
            possibility of the artist being granted a vision of the superna-<lb/>tural idea. </p>
         <p>Having thus established these contrasting positions Panofsky proceeds to<lb/>describe
            their subsequent evolution and interaction, demonstrating how they<lb/>cross,
            intertwine, separate and join again almost like the dancers in an intri-<lb/>cate
            ballet.</p>
         <p> Passing rather quickly over the middle ages, mostly in the thrall of
            the<lb/>Aristotelian view, and the earlier writers of the Renaissance, not yet
            touched<lb/>by the Neo-Platonic revival that dominated philosophy, he concentrates
            on<lb/>the period of Mannerism, which had of course just come into view in the
            early<lb/>twenties as a hitherto neglected period in the history of art. He aims at
            find-<lb/>ing parallels to the various currents of artistic style which had just been
            postu-<lb/>lated by Friedländer, playing on the instrument of dialectics with a
            virtuosity<lb/>to which only long quotations could do justice. Very briefly, he finds
            an<lb/>intrinsic tension in Mannerist art between the rejection of rules and their
            eag-<lb/>er acceptance, a tension he finds also reflected in the contradictory attitudes
            of<lb/>theoreticians who for instance both despised and advocated systems of
            propor-<lb/>tion. While in his view the antithesis between subject and object had
            not<lb/>troubled the writers of the Renaissance it is now recognised as a problem.
            He<lb/>claims that it is for the first time in history that the question is posed
            how<lb/>artistic creation is altogether possible, in other words how the artist’s mind,
            in<lb/>confronting reality through the senses, can ever conceive ideas. Art theory,
            in<lb/>Panofsky’s view, is now faced with the task of legitimising artistic activities
            by<lb/>asking in accents that must remind you of Kant: «How is artistic
            representa-<lb/>tion and, in particular the rendering of beauty, at all possible?» <hi
               rend="italic">Wie ist die<lb/>künstlerische Darstellung, und insbesondere die
               Darstellung des Schönen überhaupt möglich?</hi> ). <lb/>It is in answering this question,
            or rather these two questions, that Panofsky<lb/>sees the theorists using the
            traditional notion of <hi rend="italic">idea</hi> in two typically antitheti-<lb/>cal
            ways. He dwells at some length on Federico Zuccari’s <hi rend="italic">L’idea
               de’pittori, scul-<lb/>tori ed architetti</hi> of 1607 which draws on the Aristotelian
            tradition by stressing<lb/>the idea in the artist’s mind, which Zuccari calls the <hi
               rend="italic">disegno interno</hi> , while fol-<lb/>lowing St. Thomas in regarding
            these ideas as mere reflections of the perfect<lb/>ideas in the mind of God and the
            nearperfect ideas in the minds of angels.<lb/>For Panofsky this <hi rend="italic"
               >ricorso</hi> to Scholastic ideas is of profound symptomatic signifi-<lb/>cance,
            because it acknowledges the gap between subject and object he finds
            so<lb/>characteristic of Mannerist art. He sees Zuccari’s approach complemented
            by<lb/>Lomazzo’s reversion to Ficino’s Neo-Platonic conception of beauty which,
            as<lb/>Panofsky was the first to notice, he simply plagiarized. The chapter concludes </p>
         <pb n="415" facs="IDEA/IDEA_415.jpg"/>
         <p>with a psychological diagnosis of the spirit of the age: «Divorced from nature,<lb/>and
            the human spirit seeks refuge in God in an emotion that is both helpless<lb/>triumphant
            and that we recognize in the sad and proud physiognomies and<lb/>gestures of Mannerist
            portraits and of which the Counter-Reformation is but<lb/>one expression among many».</p>
         <p> The subsequent chapter on the Neo-Classical theory which Panofsky sees<lb/>emerging in
            the 17th century again proceeds dialectically to another antitheti-<lb/>cal position
            codified in Bellori’s famous oration on the <hi rend="italic">Idea.</hi> Bellori is
            shown<lb/>to have called in the notion of the idea as an ally for his fight on two
            fronts —<lb/>the fight against Mannerism which is said to rely on formulas and against
            Nat-<lb/>uralism which is said to neglect the artist’s vocation of improving on
            nature.<lb/>Thus the metaphysical creed of the late Cinquecento which attempted
            to<lb/>resolve the opposition between subject and object by taking recourse to
            God,<lb/>was followed by an attitude that tried to achieve an immediate
            harmony<lb/>between subject and object, Spirit and Nature, which manifests in
            Panofsky’s<lb/>view that return to the doctrine of purified nature that was summed up in
            the<lb/>slogan of the <hi rend="italic">Ideal.</hi> In a sense, it is here that the book
            should end, but Panofs-<lb/>ky appended a chapter on Dürer and Michelangelo whose ideas
            he could not<lb/>quite fit into his intellectual epic. </p>
         <p> I hope I have at least given you the flavour of that remarkable <hi rend="italic">tour
               de force<lb/>
            </hi> though I must still refer you to its concluding paragraph in which the
            produc-<lb/>er of that ballet of ideas steps before the public and explains that it was
            all an<lb/>idle play, because that antithesis between idealism and naturalism which
            con-<lb/>tinued to engage the minds of philosophers/is really nothing but a
            dialectical<lb/>antinomy, since we now know — if I may cruelly over-simplify
            Panofsky’s<lb/>involved argument — that what we call reality is in itself nothing but
            the<lb/>product of our minds <note xml:id="ftn5" place="foot" n="6"> See my chapter
               «From Careggi to Montmartre. A footnote to Erwin Panofsky’s <hi rend="italic"
               >Idea»</hi>,<lb/> in <hi rend="italic">“Il se rendit en Italie'”. Études offertes à
                  André Chastel,</hi> Paris-Rome 1987, p. 674 and note. </note>. </p>
         <p> Soon afterwards Panofsky gave substance to this conviction in his famous<lb/>essay on
               <hi rend="italic">Perspective as a Symbolic Form</hi>
            <note xml:id="ftn6" place="foot" n="7"> E. PANOFSKY, <hi rend="italic">Die Perspektive
                  als symbolische Form</hi>, «Vorträge der Bibliothek Warburg»,<lb/>1924-25, Italian
               in <hi rend="italic"> La prospettiva come 'forma simbolica’ e altri scritti,</hi>
               Milano 1961. </note> in which Cassirer’s philosophy is again<lb/>linked with the same
            kind of deterministic dialectic which he saw as uniting<lb/>the successive world views
            with the evolution of human consciousness and<lb/>human art, a vision of history surely
            derived from Hegel. </p>
         <p>Ladies and Gentlemen, having explained, when speaking to this forum a<lb/>year ago, why
            I personally cannot accept any such version of historical relativ-<lb/>ism, I hardly
            need spell out why my admiration for Panofsky and my profound<lb/></p>
         <pb n="416" facs="IDEA/IDEA_416.jpg"/>
         <p> respect for his intellect has not sufficed to make me accept his reading of
            Re-<lb/>naissance artistic theory. As a realist in the modern, not the mediaeval
            sense<lb/>of the term, I remain convinced that intellectual history should not be a
            ballet<lb/>of abstractions, however enticing, but an investigation of enduring problems. </p>
         <p> Take another passage from Vasari, this time one where he does use the<lb/>term <hi
               rend="italic">idea.</hi> In his Life of Titian Vasari defends the Tuscan emphasis on
            draw-<lb/>ing, alleging that Giorgione and the other Venetians shunned
            preparatory<lb/>sketches and painted directly on the canvas: «non s’accorgeva, che egli
            è ne-<lb/>cessario a chi vuol bene disporre i componimenti, ed accomodare
            l’invenzioni,<lb/>ch’e’ fa bisogno prima in più modi differenti porle in carta, per
            vedere come il<lb/>tutto torna insieme. Conciossiachè l’idea non può vedere né
            immaginare per-<lb/>fettamente in se stessa l’invenzioni, se non apre e non mostra il
            suo concetto<lb/>agli occhi corporali che l’aiutino a farne buon giudizio» <note
               xml:id="ftn7" place="foot" n="8"> VASARI, <hi rend="italic">op. cit.</hi>, p. 427.
            </note>. </p>
         <p> Here the word <hi rend="italic">idea</hi> is used in its psychological meaning as
            identical with<lb/>consciousness or mind, but what I find interesting in this passage is
            that Va-<lb/>sari was right in stressing the importance of what we now call ’feed-back’
            in<lb/>art, though of course he was wrong in claiming that the Venetians never
            made<lb/>drawings. </p>
         <p>I am equally convinced of the fact that the problem of universals which<lb/>had
            originally given rise to Plato’s theory of ideas continues to confront us in<lb/>various
            forms and that the historian has to take a stand in these matters.</p>
         <p> It so happens that I had an opportunity of exemplifying my conviction<lb/>precisely in
            relation to Raphael’s famous letter on the <hi rend="italic">Idea.</hi> Having
            suggested<lb/>a link between that formulation and a passage from the younger Pico’s <hi
               rend="italic">De<lb/>imitatione</hi> (1512) I also attempted to show that we can
            express the problem he<lb/>broached in our own terms when we consider the relation of
               <hi rend="italic">Ideal and Type in<lb/>Renaissance Art</hi>
            <note xml:id="ftn8" place="foot" n="9"> In<hi rend="italic"> New Light on Old
               Masters</hi>, Oxford 1986, Italian in <hi rend="italic">Antichi maestri, nuove
                  letture</hi>, Torino 1987. </note>
            . I even went so far as to express my view that there are not<lb/>only objective
               standards of fidelity to nature but that even the ideal of beauty<lb/>should not be
               regarded as a purely subjective notion. 
         </p>
         <p>
            What sense we can make of Zuccari’s   
            <hi rend="italic">disegno interno</hi>
             have tried to show in<lb/>my book on 
            <hi rend="italic">Art and Illusion</hi>
             where I investigated the role of what I call the<lb/>
               <hi rend="italic">schema</hi>
             in representation 
            <note xml:id="ftn9" place="foot" n="10">
               <hi rend="italic">Art and Illusion,</hi>
                Princeton-London 1960, Italian as  
               <hi rend="italic">Arte e illusione,</hi>
               Torino 1965. 
            </note>.
                     </p>
         <p>Somewhere in this direction I’d be tempted to look for the answer to the<lb/>question
            which Panofsky attributes to Zuccari of how painting is possible, but<lb/>frankly I’m
            not persuaded that this was ever Zuccari’s concern. If you read </p>
         <pb n="417" facs="IDEA/IDEA_417.jpg"/>
         <p>him you will find that what he desires to prove is not the possibility but
            the<lb/>dignity of his art. It is strange that this concern is not mentioned by
            Panofs-<lb/>ky. We realize increasingly how much more these questions of hierarchy
            of<lb/>dignity and nobility mattered to the past than they matter to us.</p>
         <p>
            Donald 
            Hirsch in his book 
            <hi rend="italic">Validity in Interpretation</hi>
            <note xml:id="ftn10" place="foot" n="11">
               E. D. HIRSCH JR., <hi rend="italic">Validity in Interpretation,</hi>
                New Haven-London 1967.
            </note>
            has made the impor-<lb/>tant point that we cannot begin to interpret a text before
               we have decided to<lb/>what genre it belongs. I think it is clear that Zuccari’s
               treatise belongs to the<lb/>genre of eulogies or panegyrics in praise of a particular
               vocation or discipline.<lb/>In writing such a panegyric, the orator will be at pains
               to praise, among other<lb/>things, the noble connections of his subject. If he
               praises a prince he will<lb/>dwell on his ancestry and if he praises a discipline he
               will have to demonstrate<lb/>its direct line to Almighty God. If you had honoured me
               with an invitation<lb/>three hundred years ago to speak at your 
            <hi rend="italic">convegno</hi>
         you would have expected me<lb/>to begin by saying that the first lexicographer was
               God whose sacred work you<lb/>are now continuing and to produce many learned
               quotations to back up my<lb/>claim.
         </p>
         <p>
            It is not by accident, I believe, that some of Zuccari’s arguments for
               the<lb/>divinity of painting are anticipated in Leonardo’s  
            <hi rend="italic">Paragone</hi>
            of a century earlier<lb/>exalting the nobility of painting. Being the genius that he
               was, Leonardo con-<lb/>densed the whole lengthy argument in the wonderful passage:
            «Come il pit-<lb/>tore  
            e Signore  
            d’ogni sorte di gente e di tutte le cose.  
            Se’l pittore vol vedere<lb/>bellezze, che lo innamorino, egli n’e signore di
               generarle, et se vol vedere cose<lb/>mostruose, che spaventino, o’che sieno
               buffonesche e risibili, o’veramente<lb/>compassionevoli,  
            <hi rend="italic">ei n'e signore e Dio...</hi>
             e in effetto ciò che nell’universo per<lb/>
            essentia,  
            presentia o’immaginatione, esso l’ha prima nella mente e poi nelle<lb/>mani; e
               quelle sono di tanta eccellentia, che in pari tempo generano una pro-<lb/>portionata
               armonia in un solo sguardo qual’ fanno le cose» 
            <note xml:id="ftn11" place="foot" n="12">
               <hi rend="italic">Trattato della pittura,</hi>
               Codex Urbinus Latinus 1270, 5 r (ed.  
               A. P. McMahon, Princeton,<lb/>1956). 
            </note>.
            </p>
         <p>
            Even  
            Zuccari’s  
            claim that  
            <hi rend="italic">disegno</hi>
            governs  
            all  
            the  
            liberal  
            arts would not<lb/>have surprised Leonardo. 
         </p>
         <p>
           Needless to say, Panofsky was fully aware of the contents and import
               of<lb/>Leonardo’s  
            <hi rend="italic">Paragone</hi>
           , he even prints the passage I have cited in one of his many<lb/>footnotes relating
               to a different topic, but he obviously did not wish to discuss<lb/>it in the context
               of  
            <hi rend="italic">Idea,</hi>
             because Leonardo did not use that word and his text<lb/>could therefore not find a
               place in Panofsky’s  
            <hi rend="italic">Begriffsgeschichte.</hi>
            I am sure that<lb/>every lexicographer must be familiar with the problem posed by
               this decision.<lb/>Should he concentrate on words, or on the thoughts behind the
               word? If he
         </p>
         <pb n="418" facs="IDEA/IDEA_418.jpg"/>
         <p>does the former, as Panofsky decided to do, he may be in danger of missing<lb/>important
            clues, if the latter he may lose the thread which he decided to fol-<lb/>low.</p>
         <p>
            Take the example I have just mentioned, the oration in praise of the dig-<lb/>nity
               of certain disciplines or arts: in his useful volume of 1899 
            <hi rend="italic">Reden und Briefe<lb/>italienischer Humanisten</hi>
            <note xml:id="ftn12" place="foot" n="13">
               Wien 1899.
            </note>
             Karl Müllner  
            collected a  
            fair sample 
            of  
            such  
            show-<lb/>pieces as inaugural lectures to university courses and letters on similar
             topics<lb/>from the 15th century. The recent reprint 
            <note xml:id="ftn13" place="foot" n="14">
              München 1970.
            </note>
            also contains a useful index of<lb/>words where I find fifty entries for  
            <hi rend="italic">dignitas,</hi>
            forty for 
            <hi rend="italic">gloria</hi>, twenty for  
            <hi rend="italic">summum<lb/>bonum,</hi>
             but only one for 
            <hi rend="italic">Idea</hi>
             in a quotation from Cicero’s  
            <hi rend="italic">Academica.</hi>
             No doubt<lb/>this observation may be of relevance to the lexicographer, but the
               question<lb/>remains whether the genre of epideictic oratory offers the right kind of
               evi-<lb/>dence for  
            <hi rend="italic">Begriffsgeschichte</hi>
            , the historical analysis of philosophical concepts? Are<lb/>we not in danger of
               doing violence both to philosophy and to rhetoric in ana-<lb/>lysing a speach such as
               Bellori’s 
            <hi rend="italic">Idea</hi>
              too closely for contradictions and incon-<lb/>sistencies in the sources on which
               the speaker drew? Did he really mind<lb/>whether he employed the word  
            <hi rend="italic">idea</hi>
              in its Platonic, Aristotelian or Neo-Pla-<lb/>tonic sense? Is it indeed always
               legitimate to ask which of the meanings he<lb/>was after, given the fact that it had
               been the aim of so many philosophers of<lb/>these centuries to demonstrate the
               concordance of these various schools of<lb/>thought? So many, after all, held fast to
               the conviction that ancient wisdom<lb/>must have been one and undivided and would not
               admit that of two contrast-<lb/>ing systems only one could be true? 
         </p>
         <p>
            In raising this question in relation to Panofsky’s  
            <hi rend="italic">Idea</hi>
             I do not wish to<lb/>conceal from you that similar doubts may also apply to one of
               my own studies,<lb/>my article on 
            <hi rend="italic">Philosophies of Symbolism and their bearing on Art</hi>
            <note xml:id="ftn14" place="foot" n="15"> In <hi rend="italic">Symbolic Images</hi>,
               London 1972, Italian as <hi rend="italic">Immagini simboliche,</hi> Torino
            1978.</note>
             for which I chose<lb/>as a starting point precisely such an oration, Cristophoro
               Giarda’s speech on<lb/>
              <hi rend="italic">Icones Symbolicae,</hi>
             and attempted to sort out the Platonic and Aristotelian cross-<lb/>currents in the
               theories of allegorical and emblematic images, without perhaps<lb/>paying sufficient
               heed to these syncretistic tendencies.
         </p>
         <p>But if the words which occur in this kind of text should not necessarily be<lb/>used as
            evidence of the writer’s or speaker’s allegiance to one or the other<lb/>philosophical
            system, how should we look at them? I know no better answer<lb/>than the one given by
            Arthur O. Lovejoy. I well remember that at this meet-<lb/>ing last year we heard a
            certain amount of criticism of Lovejoy’s approach<lb/>some of which may have been quite
            justified, but to the best of my memory</p>
         <pb n="419" facs="IDEA/IDEA_419.jpg"/>
         <p>
            one of Lovejoy’s contributions was not mentioned, his notion of   
            <hi rend="italic">metaphysical<lb/>pathos</hi>
             which he explains in the methodological introduction to his book   
            <hi rend="italic">The<lb/>Great Chain of Being</hi>
            <note xml:id="ftn15" place="foot" n="16">
                Cambridge, Mass. 1936.
            </note>.
            He sees it exemplified «in any description of the nature<lb/>of things... in terms
               which, like the words of a poem, awaken through their<lb/>association... a congenial
               mood or tone of feeling on the part of the philoso-<lb/>pher or his readers». True to
               his habit of classifying and subdividing his<lb/>topics Lovejoy offers us «a good
               many kinds» of metaphysical pathos. «There<lb/>is, in the first place, the pathos of
               sheer obscurity, the loveliness of the incom-<lb/>prehensible... the reader does not
               know exactly what they mean, but they have<lb/>all the more on that account an air of
               sublimity; an agreeable feeling at once<lb/>of awe and of excitation comes over him
               as he contemplates thoughts of so<lb/>immeasurable a profundity...». Lovejoy
               concludes this witty and astringent sec-<lb/>tion with the words: «The delicate task
               of discovering these varying suscepti-<lb/>bilities and showing how they help to
               shape a system or to give an idea plausi-<lb/>bility and currency is a part of the
               work of the historian of ideas». 
         </p>
         <p>
             I think it is also a legitimate task of the lexicographer because it may
               be<lb/>precisely in the context of such emotional exaltation that terms tend to
               lose<lb/>their precision and gain in flexibility.  
            <hi rend="italic">Idea</hi>
              and  
            <hi rend="italic">ideal</hi>
              became words to conjure<lb/>with, words which would be sure of creating an effect
               and this, maybe, was<lb/>how the inflation set in that led to the devaluation and
               trivialisation of the<lb/>term. There is a nice little restaurant in London that is
               called “The Good<lb/>Idea”. One wonders whether Plato would have frequented it.
               Tayllerand is<lb/>supposed to have said that words exist to conceal our thoughts.
               They may also<lb/>arouse the most surprising thoughts or emotions. There is a famous
               English<lb/>anecdote about an old lady who thanked the pastor after his sermon for
               that<lb/>comforting word Mesopotamia. Before we laugh at her, let us remember
               how<lb/>many intellectuals have found comfort in outlandish words which they
               experi-<lb/>ence as grand and dignified — I mentioned these  O. K. words in one of my<lb/>interventions last year. 
         </p>
         <p>
            In stressing this psychological aspect of language I have the support of
               a<lb/>highly intelligent pioneer of aesthetics who was also a great orator,
               Edmund<lb/>Burke. Towards the end of his 
            <hi rend="italic">Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of<lb/>the Sublime
               and Beautiful</hi>
            <note xml:id="ftn16" place="foot" n="17">
              London 1756.
            </note>
             Burke discusses the effects of words. He comes to the<lb/>surprising conclusion
               that the clarity of speech often militates against its emo-<lb/>tional effect. In a
               passage almost reminiscent of Vico he writes: «Unculti-<lb/>vated people are but
               ordinary observers of things, and not critical in distin-<lb/>guishing them; but, for
               that reason, they admire more, and are more affected
         </p>
         <pb n="420" facs="IDEA/IDEA_420.jpg"/>
         <p>
            with what they see, and therefore express themselves in a warmer and
               more<lb/>passionate manner. If the affection be well conveyed, it will work its
               effect<lb/>without any clear idea; often without any idea at all of the thing which
               has<lb/>originally given rise to it» (Part V, section 1). Burke, in short, denies
               the<lb/>accepted view that words tend to conjure up images in our mind. True,
               he<lb/>writes, «It seems to be an odd subject of dispute with any man, whether he
               has<lb/>ideas in his mind or not» (Part V, section 5). He would have argued that
               the<lb/>word  
            <hi rend="italic">idea</hi>
             itself conjures up no clear picture in his mind. 
         </p>
         <p>
             It so happens that his opinion anticipates the memorable dispute about<lb/>the very
               topic of 
            <hi rend="italic">idea</hi>
             which was mentioned this morning by Professor Hinske,<lb/>the episode described in
               Goethe’s <hi rend="italic">Annalen oder Tag- und Jahreshefte,</hi>
            for the year<lb/>1794, of the first meeting between Goethe and Schiller 
            <note xml:id="ftn17" place="foot" n="18">
              «Erste Bekanntschaft mit Schiller», in  
               <hi rend="italic">Paralipomena zu den Annalen,</hi>
               2,  
               in  
               GOETHE, <hi rend="italic">Sämt-<lb/>liche Werke. Jubiläumsausgabe,</hi>
                n.d., XXX, pp. 389-391. 
            </note>
           when Goethe<lb/>sketched his theory of the   
            <hi rend="italic">Urpflanze</hi>
            and Schiller replied:  
           «Das ist keine Erfah-<lb/>rung, das ist eine Idee»  
           (This is not a concrete observation but an idea). Pro-<lb/>fessor Hinske’s context
               did not demand that he also told us of Goethe’s gruff<lb/>reply: «It must indeed be
               welcome news to me that I have ideas without<lb/>knowing it, and that I even see them
               with my own eyes». As Goethe sums<lb/>up this encounter, «Schiller took for an idea
               what I called a concrete observa-<lb/>tion  
             (<hi rend="italic">Erlebnis</hi>)». 
         </p>
         <p>
           Maybe you allow me a different conclusion: what Goethe might have<lb/>said to
               Schiller was that his 
            <hi rend="italic">Urpflanze</hi>
             came closer to an Aristotelian <hi rend="italic">entelechy</hi><lb/>
            than to a Platonic or Kantian idea. He saw it as a principle that worked<lb/>inside
               the botanical creation to secure the basic requirements of any plant, the<lb/>roots,
               the stem, the leaves, the blossoms and ultimate fruits in their order
               and<lb/>function. </p>
         <p>
           Had Goethe explained his view to Schiller today he might perhaps have<lb/>said that
               plants are ‘programmed’ to follow this pattern in their development<lb/>and that this
               programme is encoded in the sequence of their genes. But this<lb/>novel and useful
               metaphor should not hide from us that with this idea of bio-<lb/>logical programming
              <hi rend="italic">anamnesis</hi>
            has entered by the back door, as it were. If we<lb/>or other organisms were not
               programmed to see, to interact with the world,<lb/>we would not survive, but since
               our programming is not perfect it is only the<lb/>fittest that do survive. 
         </p>
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