Believe the Buildings
Schopenhauer and Kenneth Clark on Art and Architecture
Schopenhauer, like Descartes, was no friend of history. In his The Art of Literature he offered his view that, “History has always been the favorite study of those who wish to learn something, without having to face the effort demanded by any branch of real knowledge, which taxes the intelligence.” (No doubt part of Schopenhauer’s rejection of history is due to his dislike of Hegel, and the special place that Hegel gave to history.) However, later in that work he said something a bit more searching about history:
“There are two kinds of history; the history of politics and the history of literature and art. The one is the history of the will; the other, that of the intellect. The first is a tale of woe, even of terror: it is a record of agony, struggle, fraud, and horrible murder en masse. The second is everywhere pleasing and serene, like the intellect when left to itself, even though its path be one of error. Its chief branch is the history of philosophy. This is, in fact, its fundamental bass, and the notes of it are heard even in the other kind of history. These deep tones guide the formation of opinion, and opinion rules the world. Hence philosophy, rightly understood, is a material force of the most powerful kind, though very slow in its working. The philosophy of a period is thus the fundamental bass of its history.”
The musical simile is interesting in light of Schopenhauer’s metaphysics of music, which is deservedly better known than Schopenhauer’s philosophy of history; also, the distinction between the history of the will and the history of the intellect reflects Schopenhauer’s metaphysics and gives us a distinction the like of which we don’t exactly find anywhere else.
That being said, there is something vaguely similar to this distinction in a tripartite distinction made by Ruskin and quoted by Kenneth Clark. Clark opened his book and television series Civilisation: A Personal View, which focuses more on art and architecture than civilization proper (if there is such a thing), with this observation made with Notre Dame de Paris in the background:
“What is civilisation? I don’t know. I can’t define it in abstract terms — yet. But I think I can recognise it when I see it; and I am looking at it now. Ruskin said : ‘Great nations write their autobiographies in three manuscripts, the book of their deeds, the book of their words and the book of their art. Not one of these books can be understood unless we read the two others, but of the three the only trustworthy one is the last.’ On the whole I think this is true. Writers and politicians may come out with all sorts of edifying sentiments, but they are what is known as declarations of intent. If I had to say which was telling the truth about society, a speech by a Minister of Housing or the actual buildings put up in his time, I should believe the buildings.”
Many have commented on what was left out of Clark’s account of civilization, some of whom have singled out music, although Clark does discuss Baroque church music and opera. Like all histories, Clark’s account is highly selective, and it is selective for a reason. Clark notes elsewhere that:
“People sometimes wonder why the Renaissance Italians, with their intelligent curiosity, didn’t make more of a contribution to the history of thought. The reason is that the most profound thought of the time was not expressed in words, but in visual imagery.”
I have often thought of this comment, and it seems to me that the most profound thought of our time is to be found in science and technology. We have our art and architecture, but, viewed by Clark’s criterion, if we trust the buildings of the present age, we will not be very impressed. Implicit in these two quotes from Clark is the idea that we should trust the most profound form of thought in any given era to tell us what Schopenhauer called the “fundamental bass” of era.
Trusting the buildings, or the music, or the painting, or the technology, is the bright, sunlit side of an age; we can also trust of the shadow side of an age to tell us that which a people, a civilization, or a period of history passed over in silence — what is neglected, or denied, or dismissed. When Hume ridiculed the “monkish virtues” of the Middle Ages, he showed us the shadow side of the Enlightenment, alongside the sunlit side of the Enlightenment, which was witty conversation among educated individuals attending a fashionable salon, which was the affable sociability that plays such a prominent role in Hume’s naturalistic ethics.
The fact that we build ugly buildings that don’t last is our shadow side, while our sunlit side is the science and technology. So our buildings are to be trusted also, but trusted to reveal our blind spots and deficits. It is not uncommon to hear ridicule of the admittedly silly scientific ideas of pre-modern societies, which were their shadow side, but we still appreciate the buildings, which are more beautiful than ours, and have stood the test of time. Our technology, while wildly sophisticated, will not likely endure as well. And long after we are all dust and our civilizations only a distant memory mentioned in forgotten books, the pyramids of Egypt will still stand, bearing witness to a belief in buildings surpassing that of Kenneth Clark.
