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[Home] [Up] [Contents] [Preface] [Bibliographical Note] [A Note on the Text] [WHAT IS ART?] I  II  III  IV  V  VI  VII  VIII  IX  X  XI  XII  XIII  XIV  XV  XVI  XVII  XVIII  XIX  XX [CONCLUSION] [Appendix I] [Appendix II] [Notes]


WHAT IS ART?

¿¹¼úÀº ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡?


by Leo Tolstoy

TRANSLATED BY RICHARD PEVEAR
AND LARISSA VOLOKHONSKY

What Is Art?

¿¹¼úÀº ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡?

¡¡

I

Pick up any newspaper of our time, and in every one of them you will find a section on theatre and music; in almost every issue you will find a description of some exhibition or other, or of some particular painting, and in every one you will find reports on newly appearing books of an artistic nature - poetry, stories, novels. ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¾î¶² ½Å¹®ÀÌµç µéÃß¾î º¸¶ó, ¾îµð¿¡µç ¿¬±Ø°ú À½¾Ç¿¡ °üÇÑ ³­À» º¼ ¼ö ÀÖÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù; °ÅÀÇ ¸ðµç °£Ç๰¸¶´Ù ÀÌ·± Àú·± Àü½Ãȸ ¶Ç´Â ¾î¶² Ưº°ÇÑ ±×¸²¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¼³¸íÀ» º¼ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, °¢°¢ÀÇ °Íµé¿¡¼­ ¿¹¼úÀûÀÎ ¼º°ÝÀ¸·Î »õ·ÎÀÌ µîÀåÇÏ´Â - ½Ã, ´ÜÆí, ¼Ò¼³ - Ã¥µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ º¸°íµéÀ» º¼ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù.
Immediately after the event, a detailed description is published of how this or that actress or actor played this or that role in such and such a drama, comedy or opera, and what merits they displayed, and what the contents of the new drama, comedy or opera were, and its merits or shortcomings. With the same detail and care they describe how such-and-such an artist sang such-and-such a piece, or performed it on the piano or the violin, and what the shortcomings or merits of the piece and of the performance were. In every large town there will always be, if not several, then certainly one exhibi¡©tion of new paintings, whose merits and shortcomings are analyzed with the greatest profundity by critics and connoisseurs. Almost every day new novels and poems appear, separately or in magazines, and the newspapers consider it their duty to give their readers detailed reports on these works of art. Çà»ç°¡ ³¡³ª°í ³ª¸é °ð, ±×·¸°í ±×·± µå¶ó¸¶, Äڹ̵ð, Èñ±Ø¿¡¼­ ÀÌ·± Àú·± ¿©¿ì ¶Ç´Â ³²¿ìµéÀÌ ÀÌ·¯Àú·¯ÇÑ ¿ª¿¡¼­ ¾î¶»°Ô ¿¬±âÇÏ¿´À¸¸ç, ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ¾î¶² ÀåÁ¡µéÀ» ³ªÅ¸³»´ÂÁö, »õ·Î¿î µå¶ó¸¶, Äڹ̵ð ¶Ç´Â ¿ÀÆä¶óÀÇ ³»¿ëµé, ±×¸®°í ±× ÀåÁ¡µé, °áÁ¡µéÀº ¹«¾ùÀÎÁö °®°¡Áö »ó¼¼ÇÑ ¼³¸íµé¿¡ ´ëÇØ ÃâÆÇµÈ´Ù. ±×µéÀº ¶ÇÇÑ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¼¼¹ÐÇÔ°ú °ü½ÉÀ¸·Î¼­ ¾î¶»°Ô ¿©Â÷¿©Â÷ÇÑ °¡¼ö°¡ ¿©Â÷¿©Â÷ÇÑ ÀÛǰÀ» ºÒ·¶°Å³ª ÇÇ¾Æ³ë ¶Ç´Â ¹ÙÀ̿ø°À¸·Î ¿¬ÁÖÇÏ¿´´ÂÁö, ±×¸®°í ±× ÀÛǰ°ú °ø¿¬ÀÇ °áÁ¡ ¶Ç´Â ÀåÁ¡µéÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀÎÁö ¼­¼úÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¾î´À Ä¿´Ù¶õ µµ½Ã¿¡¼­µç, ¿©·µÀº ¾Æ´Ï¶óµµ, »õ·Î¿î ±×¸²µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÇÑ °¡Áö Àü½Ã´Â ºÐ¸íÈ÷ ÀÖÀ» °ÍÀ̸ç, ±× °Í¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀåÁ¡µé ¹× °áÁ¡µéÀÌ ºñÆò°¡µé ¹× °¨Á¤°¡µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ´ë´ÜÇÑ ½É¿ÀÇÔÀ¸·Î ºÐ¼®µÈ´Ù. °ÅÀÇ ¸ÅÀÏ »õ·Î¿î ¼Ò¼³µé ¹× ½ÃµéÀÌ °³º°ÀûÀ¸·Î ¶Ç´Â ÀâÁöµé¿¡ µîÀåÇϸç, ½Å¹®µéÀº ±×µéÀÇ µ¶Àڵ鿡°Ô ÀÌ·± ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ó¼¼ÇÏ°Ô º¸°íÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ±×µéÀÇ Àǹ«·Î ¿©±ä´Ù.
To support art in Russia, where only a hundredth part of what would be needed to provide all the people with the opportunity of learning is spent on popular education, the government gives mil¡©lions in subsidies to academies, conservatories and theatres. In France eight millions are allotted to art, and the same in Germany and England. In every large town huge buildings are constructed for museums, academies, conservatories, dramatic schools, and for per¡©formances and concerts. Hundreds of thousands of workers - carpen¡©ters, masons, painters, joiners, paper-hangers, tailors, hairdressers, jewelers, bronze founders, typesetters - spend their whole lives in hard labor to satisfy the demands of art, so that there is hardly another human activity, except the military, that consumes as much effort as this. ·¯½Ã¾Æ¿¡¼­´Â, ¿¹¼úÀ» Áö¿øÇϰíÀÚ, ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ¹è¿òÀÇ ±âȸ¸¦ Á¦°øÇϱâ À§ÇØ ÇÊ¿äÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁö´Â °ÍÀÇ ¿ÀÁ÷ ¹éºÐÀÇ Àϸ¸ÀÌ ´ëÁß ±³À°À» À§ÇØ »ç¿ëµÇ°í ÀÖÀ¸¸é¼­µµ, ¿¹¼úÇùȸ, À½¾ÇÇб³, ±ØÀåµé¿¡´Â ¼ö¹é¸¸¾¿ º¸Á¶±ÝÀ» Á¦°øÇÑ´Ù. ÇÁ¶û½º¿¡¼± ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÆÈ¹é ¸¸ÀÌ ÇÒ´çµÇ¸ç, µ¶ÀÏ ¹× ¿µ±¹¿¡¼­µµ µ¿ÀÏÇÏ´Ù. Àú¸¶´Ù Å« µµ½Ãµé¿¡´Â ¹Ú¹°°ü, ¿¹¼ú¿ø, À½¾Ç¿ø, ¿¬±ØÇб³µéÀ» À§ÇØ, ±×¸®°í °ø¿¬ ¹× ¿¬ÁÖȸ µéÀ» À§ÇØ, °Å´ëÇÑ °Ç¹°µéÀÌ °Ç¼³µÈ´Ù. ¼ö¸¸ ¸íÀÇ ³ëµ¿ÀÚµé - ¸ñ¼ö, ¼®°ø, È­°ø, °¡±¸ÀåÀÌ, µµ¹èÀåÀÌ, ÀçºÀ»ç, ¹Ì¿ë»ç, º¸¼® ¼¼°ø»ç, ûµ¿ÁÖ¹°°ø, ½ÄÀÚ°ø µé - Àº ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¼ö¿ä µéÀ» ¸¸Á·½ÃÄÑÁÖ±â À§ÇØ ±×µéÀÇ »îÀ» Á߳뵿¿¡ ¼ÒºñÇϰí ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±×¸®ÇÏ¿©, ±º´ë¸¦ Á¦¿ÜÇϰí´Â, ÀÌ¿Í °°Àº Á¤µµÀÇ ³ë·ÂÀ» ¼Ò¸ðÇÏ´Â ¶Ç ´Ù¸¥ Àΰ£ÀÇ È°µ¿Àº °ÅÀÇ ¾ø´Ù.
But it is not only that such enormous labor is expended on this activity - human lives are also expended on it directly, as in war: from an early age, hundreds of thousands of people devote their entire lives to learning how to twirl their legs very quickly (dancers); others (musicians) to learning how to finger keys or strings very quickly; still others (artists) to acquiring skill with paint and to depicting all they see; a fourth group to acquiring skill in twisting every phrase in all possible ways and finding a rhyme for every word. And these people, often very kind, intelligent, capable of every sort of useful labor, grow wild in these exceptional, stupefy¡©ing occupations and become dull to all serious phenomena of life, one-sided and self-complacent specialists, knowing only how to twirl their legs, tongues or fingers. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ È°µ¿¿¡ ¼ÒºñµÇ´Â °ÍÀº ±×Åä·Ï ¾öû³­ ³ëµ¿ ¸¸ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù - ¶ÇÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÇ ¸ñ¼ûµé ¸¶Àú ÀüÀï¿¡¼­Ã³·³ ±×·¯ÇÑ ÀÏ¿¡ ¼ÒºñµÇ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù: ¾î¸± ÀûºÎÅÍ, ¼ö½Ê¸¸ÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ Àü ÀλýÀ» ÀÚ½Å(¹«¿ë¼ö)µéÀÇ ´Ù¸®µéÀ» ¾î¶»°Ô ÇÏ¸é ºü¸£°Ô ȸÀüÇÒ ¼ö Àִ°¡¸¦ ¹è¿ì°íÀÚ; ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷(À½¾Ç°¡)µéÀº Űº¸µå³ª ÇöÀ» ¾ó¸¶³ª »¡¸® µÎµå¸± ¼ö Àִ°¡¸¦ ¹è¿ì°íÀÚ; ¶Ç ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷(È­°¡)µéÀº ¹°°¨À» ´Ù·ç´Â ±â¼ú¿¡ ±×¸®°í ±×µéÀÌ º¸´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ¹¦»çÇÏ´Â µ¥¿¡; ³× ¹øÂ° ¹«¸®´Â °¡´ÉÇÑ ¸ðµç ¹æ¹ýµé·Î °¢°¢ÀÇ ±¸ÀýÀ» ºñƲ°í °¢°¢ÀÇ ´Ü¾î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿îÀ» ã¾Æ ³»´Â ±â¼úÀ» ½ÀµæÇÔ¿¡ Çå½ÅÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀº, ÈçÈ÷ ¸Å¿ì Ä£ÀýÇϰí, ÁöÀûÀ̸ç, ¸ðµç Á¾·ùÀÇ À¯ÀÍÇÑ ³ëµ¿À» ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖÀ½¿¡µµ, ÀÌ¿Í °°Àº ¿¹¿ÜÀûÀÌ¸ç ³ÌÀ» »©¾Ñ´Â Á÷¾÷µé·Î ³ÌÀ» »©¾Ñ±â°í »îÀÇ ¸ðµç ½É°¢ÇÑ Çö»óµé¿¡ ¹«°¨°¢Çϸç, ÆíÇùÇϸç Àڱ⠸¸Á·¿¡ ºüÁø Àü¹®°¡µéÀÌ µÇ¾î ¿À·ÎÁö ÀڽŵéÀÇ ´Ù¸®, Çô ¶Ç´Â ¼Õ°¡¶ô µéÀ» ºñÆ®´Â °Í ¸¸À» ¾Ë »ÓÀÌ´Ù.
But this, too, is not all. I recall attending once a rehearsal of one of the most ordinary new operas, such as are produced in all European and American theatres. ±×·¯³ª ÀÌ°Í ¿ª½Ã ¸ðµÎ°¡ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. ³ª´Â ÀÌÀü¿¡, À¯·´ ¹× ¾Æ¸Þ¸®Ä«ÀÇ ¸ðµç ±ØÀåµé¿¡¼­ °ø¿¬µÇ´Â °Í°ú °°Àº, °¡Àå Æò¹üÇÏ°í »õ·Î¿î ¿ÀÆä¶óµéÀÇ ¸®Çã¼³¿¡ Âü¼®Çß´ø °ÍÀ» ±â¾ïÇÑ´Ù.
I arrived when the first act had already begun. To enter the auditorium I had to pass backstage. I was led through dark under¡©ground corridors and passages of the enormous building, past immense machines for the changing of sets and lighting, where in darkness and dust I saw people working at something. One of the workers, his face grey and thin, wearing a dirty blouse, with dirty workman¡¯s hands, the fingers sticking out, obviously tired and displeased, walked past me, angrily reproaching another man for something. Going up a dark stairway, I came out backstage. Amid piled-up sets, curtains, some poles, there were dozens, if not hun¡©dreds, of painted and costumed people standing or milling around, the men in costumes closely fitted to their thighs and calves, and the women, as usual, with their bodies bared as much as possible. These were all singers, male and female chorus-members, or ballet dancers, awaiting their turns. My guide led me across the stage, over a plank bridge through the orchestra, where sat about a hundred musicians of all sorts, and into the dark stalls. On an elevation between two lamps with reflectors, in an armchair with a music-stand in front of it, baton in hand, sat the director of the musical part, who conducted the orchestra and singers and the overall production of the entire opera. ³ª´Â Á¦ 1¸·ÀÌ ÀÌ¹Ì ½ÃÀ۵ǾúÀ» ¶§ µµÂøÇÏ¿´´Ù. °´¼®À¸·Î µé¾î°¡±â À§ÇØ ³ª´Â ¹«´ë µÚ¸¦ Åë°úÇØ¾ß¸¸ Çß´Ù. ³ª´Â °Å´ëÇÑ °Ç¹°ÀÇ ¾îµÎ¿î ÁöÇÏ º¹µµµé°ú Åë·ÎµéÀ» Åë°úÇÏ°í ¾öû³­ ±Ô¸ðÀÇ ¹«´ë¼¼Æ®µé ¹× Á¶¸í ÀåÄ¡µéÀ» Áö³ªÀÚ ±×°÷¿¡¼­ ¾îµÎ¿ò ¹× ¸ÕÁö ¼Ó¿¡¼­ ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡¸¦ À§ÇØ ÀÏÇϰí ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀ» º¸¾Ò´Ù. ³ëµ¿ÀÚµé ÁßÀÇ ÇÑ »ç¶÷Àº ´õ·¯¿î ÀÛ¾÷º¹À» ÀÔ°í ÀÖ¾ú´Âµ¥ ´õ·¯¿î ÀÛ¾÷ÀÚÀÇ ¼Õ°¡¶ôÀº ºÒ°ÅÁ® ³ª¿Í ÀÖ¾ú°í, È®¿¬È÷ ÁöÄ¡°í ºÒÄèÇÑ Ç¥Á¤À¸·Î ³ª¸¦ Áö³ªÃÆÀ¸¸ç ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡¿¡ ´ëÇØ È­¸¦ ³»¸ç ²Ù¢°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ³ª´Â ¾îµÎ¿î °è´ÜÀ» ¿À¸£¸é¼­ ¹«´ë µÚÆíÀ» ºüÁ® ³ª¿Ô´Ù. ¼öºÏÀÌ ½×ÀÎ ¼¼Æ®µé, Ŀưµé, ¸î °³ÀÇ ±âµÕµé »çÀÌ·Î ¼ö¹é ¸íÀº ¾Æ´ÒÁö¶óµµ ºÐÀå ¹× ÀÇ»óÀ» °ÉÄ£ ¼ö½Ê ¸íÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ, ¼­Àְųª ¾î½½··°Å¸®°í ÀÖ¾úÀ¸¸ç, ³²ÀÚµéÀº Çã¹÷Áö¿Í ÀåµýÁö±îÁö ²Ë ³¢ÀÌ´Â ÀÇ»óµéÀ» ÀÔ¾úÀ¸¸ç, ¿©ÀÚµéÀº ¸öµéÀ» º¯ÇÔ¾øÀÌ °¡´ÉÇÑ ÇÑ µå·¯³½ ä¿´´Ù. À̵éÀº ¸ðµÎ °¡¼ö, ³²¼º ¹× ¿©¼º ÇÕâ´Ü µéÀ̰ųª ¹«¿ë¼öµé·Î¼­ ±×µéÀÇ ¼ø¼­¸¦ ±â´Ù¸®°í ÀÖ´Â ÁßÀ̾ú´Ù. ³ªÀÇ ¾È³»ÀÚ´Â ¹«´ë¸¦ °¡·ÎÁö¸£°í, ¸ðµç Á¾·ùÀÇ À½¾Ç°¡µéÀÌ ¸ð¿© ¾É¾Æ ÀÖ´Â ¾Ç´ÜÀ» Åë°úÇÏ´Â ³ÎºþÁö ´Ù¸®¸¦ ³Ñ¾î ħħÇÑ Á¼®µé·Î ³ª¸¦ ÀεµÇß´Ù. ¹Ý»ç°æÀÌ ´Þ¸° µÎ °³ÀÇ µî »çÀÌ¿¡ ÀÖ´Â ³ôÀº °÷¿¡´Â ¾Çº¸´ë°¡ ´Þ¸° ÆÈ°ÉÀÌ ÀÇÀÚ¿¡ ÁöÈÖºÀÀ» ¼Õ¿¡ µé°í À½¾ÇºÎÀÇ °¨µ¶ÀÌ ¾É¾Æ ÀÖ¾úÀ¸¸ç ±×´Â ¾Ç´Ü ¹× °¡¼öµé ¹× Àüü ¿ÀÆä¶óÀÇ ¿¬ÃâÀ» ÁöÈÖÇϰí ÀÖ¾ú´Ù.
When I arrived, the performance had already begun, and a procession of Indians bringing home a bride was being presented on stage. Besides the costumed men and women, two other men in short jackets were running and fussing about the stage: one was the director of the dramatic part, and the other, who stepped with extraordinary lightness in his soft shoes as he ran from place to place, was the dancing master, who received more pay per month than ten workers in a year. ³»°¡ µµÂøÇÏ¿´À» ¶§ °ø¿¬Àº ÀÌ¹Ì ½ÃÀ۵ǾúÀ¸¸ç ½ÅºÎ¸¦ ÁýÀ¸·Î µ¥·Á°¡´Â Àεð¾ðµéÀÇ Çà·ÄÀÌ ¹«´ë À§¿¡ ÆîÃÄÁö°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ÀÇ»óÀ» °®Ãá ³²ÀÚ ¹× ¿©ÀÚ µé »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ªÀº »óÀǸ¦ °ÉÄ£ µÎ ¸íÀÇ ´Ù¸¥ ³²ÀÚµéÀÌ ¹«´ë ÁÖÀ§¸¦ ¶Ù¸é¼­ ¹ý¼®À» ¶³°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù: ÇÑ ¸íÀº ¿¬±Ø °¨µ¶À̾úÀ¸¸ç, ´Ù¸¥ ÇÑ ¸íÀº, À̰÷ Àú°÷À¸·Î ´Þ¸± ¶§ ºÎµå·¯¿î ½Å¹ßÀ» ½Å°í ³î¶ó¿î °¡º­¿òÀ¸·Î ¹ßÀ» ¶¼°í ÀÖ´Â ¹«¿ë °¨µ¶À¸·Î, ÀÏ ³â°£ ´Ù¸¥ ¿­ ¸íÀÇ ³ëµ¿ÀÚµé º¸´Ù ¸¹Àº ¿ù±ÞÀ» ¹Þ¾Ò´Ù.
These three directors were trying to bring together the singing, the orchestra and the procession. The procession, as usual, was done in pairs, with tinfoil halberds on their shoulders. They all started from one place and went around, and around again, and then stopped. For a long time the procession did not go right: first the Indians with halberds came out too late, then too early, then they came out on time but crowded together too much as they exited, then they did not crowd but failed to take their proper places at the sides of the stage, and each time everything stopped and was started over again. The procession began with a recitative by a man dressed up like some sort of Turk, who, opening his mouth strangely, sang: ¡®I accompany the bri-i-ide.¡¯ He would sing it and wave his arm - bare, of course - from under his mantle. And the procession would start. But right away the French horn does something wrong at the end of the recitative, and the conductor, recoiling as if some disaster has taken place, raps on the music-stand with his baton. Everything stops, and the conductor, turning to the orchestra, falls upon the French horn, abusing him in the rudest terms, of the sort that coachmen use, for having played a wrong note. And again every¡©thing starts over. The Indians with halberds again come out, stepping softly in their strange shoes; again the singer sings: ¡®I accompany the bri-i-ide.¡¯ But this time the pairs stand too close together. Again the rapping of the baton, the abuse, and it starts over. Again, ¡®I accompany the bri-i-ide,¡¯ again the same gesture with the bare arm from under the mantle, and the pairs, again stepping softly, halberds on their shoulders, some with serious and sad faces, some exchanging remarks and smiling, take their places in a circle and begin to sing. All is well, it seems; but again the baton raps, and the conductor, in a suffering and spiteful voice, begins to scold the male and female chorus-members: it turns out that they fail to raise their arms from time to time while singing, as a sign of animation. ¡®Have you all died, or what? Cows! If you¡¯re not dead, why don¡¯t you move?¡¯ Again it starts, again ¡®I accompany the bri-i-ide,¡¯ again the female chorus-members sing with sad faces, now one and now another of them raising an arm. But two of the female chorus-members exchange remarks - again a more vehement rap¡©ping of the baton. ¡®What, have you come here to talk? You can gossip at home. You there, in the red trousers, move closer. Look at me. From the beginning.¡¯ Again, ¡®I accompany the bri-i-ide.¡¯ And so it continues for one, two, three hours. The whole of such a rehearsal continues for six hours on end. The rapping of the baton, the repetitions, the positionings, the correctings of the singers, the orchestra, the processions, the dancing, all of it seasoned with angry abuse. The words ¡®asses, fools, idiots, swine¡¯ I heard addressed to the musicians and singers a good forty times in the course of one hour. And the unfortunate, physically and morally crippled person - flautist, horn player, singer - to whom the abuse is addressed, keeps silent and does what is demanded, repeats ¡®I accompany the bri-i-ide¡¯ twenty times over, sings one and the same phrase twenty times over, and again marches about in his yellow shoes with a halberd on his shoulder. The conductor knows that these people are so crippled as to be no longer fit for anything except blowing a horn or walking about with a halberd in yellow shoes, and at the same time they are accustomed to a sweet, luxurious life and will put up with anything only so as not to be deprived of this sweet life - and therefore he calmly gives himself up to his rudeness, the more so in that he has seen it all in Paris and Vienna and knows that the best conductors behave that way, that it is the musical tradition of great artists, who are so enthralled by their great artistic feat that they have no time to sort out the feelings of the performers. ÀÌ ¼¼ °¨µ¶µéÀº °¡Ã¢, ¾Ç´Ü ¹× Çà·ÄÀ» ÇÔ²² ¸ÂÃß·Á ¾Ö¾²°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. Çà·ÄÀº Æò»ó½Ã´ë·Î ¾çö µµ³¢¸¦ ¾î±ú¿¡ °ÉÄ¡°í Á¶¸¦ ¸ÂÃß¾î ³ª¾Æ°¬´Ù. ±×µé ¸ðµÎ´Â ÇÑ Àå¼Ò¿¡¼­ Ãâ¹ßÇÏ¿´°í °è¼ÓÇØ µ¹´Ù°¡ ¸¶Ä§³» ¸ØÃß¾ú´Ù. ÇÑÂü µ¿¾ÈÀ̳ª Çà·ÄÀº Á¦´ë·Î µÇÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù: ¸ÕÀú µµ³¢¸¦ °¡Áø Àεð¾ðµéÀÌ ³Ê¹« ´Ê°Ô, ´ÙÀ½¿£ ³Ê¹« ÀÏÂï ³ª¿Ô°í, ´ÙÀ½¿£ Á¦¶§¿¡ ³ª¿ÔÁö¸¸ ÈïºÐÇÏ¿´´ø Å¿À¸·Î ³Ê¹«³ª ¸ô·Á ³ª¿Ô°í, ´ÙÀ½¿£ ¸ô¸®Áø ¾É¾ÒÁö¸¸ ¹«´ëÀÇ Ãø¸é¿¡ ÀûÀýÇÑ À§Ä¡¸¦ Àâ´Âµ¥ ½ÇÆÐÇÏ¿´À¸¸ç, ±×¶§¸¶´Ù ¸ðµç ÀÏÀº ¸ØÃß¾úÀ¸¸ç µÇÇ®ÀÌ µÇ¾ú´Ù. Çà·ÄÀº ÀÏÁ¾ÀÇ Å;îŰÀÎ º¹ÀåÀ» ÇÑ »ç¶÷¿¡ ÀÇÇÑ ¼­Ã¢À¸·Î ½ÃÀ۵ǾúÀ¸¸ç, ±×´Â ÀÔÀ» ÀÌ»óÇÏ°Ô ¹ú¸®¸é¼­ ÀÌ·¸°Ô ³ë·¡ ºÒ·¶´Ù: ¡®³ª´Â ½Ã-ÀÎ-ºÎ¿Í µ¿ÇàÇϳë¶ó.¡¯ ±×´Â ±×°ÍÀ» ³ë·¡ÇÏ°í ¹°·Ð ¸ÁÅä ¾Æ·¡ ¸Ç ÆÈÀ» Èçµé°ï Çß´Ù. ±×¸®°í Çà·ÄÀº ½ÃÀ۵Ǿú´Ù. ±×·¯³ª °ð ¼­Ã¢ÀÇ ¸»¹Ì¿¡ ÇÁ·»Ä¡ È¥ÀÌ ¹«¾ð°¡ À߸øÇϰí, ÁöÈÖÀÚ´Â ¸¶Ä¡ ¾î¶² Àç¾ÓÀÌ¶óµµ ÀÒ¾î ³­ µíÀÌ ÆÞ½ ¶Ù¸é¼­ ÁöÈÖºÀÀ¸·Î ¾Çº¸´ë¸¦ ŹŹ Ä£´Ù. ¸ðµç °ÍÀº Á¤ÁöÇϰí, ÁöÈÖÀÚ´Â ¾Ç´Ü¿¡°Ô µ¹¾Æ°¡ ÇÁ·»Ä¡ È¥¿¡ ´Þ·Áµé¾î ¸¶ºÎµéÀ̳ª ÇØ´ë´Â ½Ö½º·± ¸»·Î ¾Çº¸¸¦ Àß ¸ø ¿¬ÁÖÇÔ¿¡ ´ëÇØ ±×¸¦ ²Ù¢´Â´Ù. ±×¸®°í ´Ù½Ã ¸ðµç °ÍÀÌ µÇÇ®ÀÌ µÈ´Ù. âµµ³¢¸¦ °¡Áø Àεð¾ðµéÀÌ ±×µéÀÇ ÀÌ»óÇÑ ½ÅµéÀ» ½Å°í ºÎµå·¯¿î ¹ß°ÉÀ½À¸·Î ´Ù½Ã ³ª¿Â´Ù; °¡¼ö°¡ ´Ù½Ã ³ë·¡ ºÎ¸¥´Ù: ¡®³ª´Â ½Ã-ÀÎ-ºÎ¿Í ÇÔ²² °¡³ë¶ó.¡¯ ±×·¯³ª À̹ø¿£ ½ÖµéÀÌ ³Ê¹« °¡±îÀÌ ¼­ÀÖ´Ù. ´Ù½Ã ÁöÈÖºÀÀ» µÎµå¸®°í, ¿å¼³ÀÌ ³ª¿À¸ç, ´Ù½Ã ½ÃÀ۵ȴÙ. ´Ù½Ã, ¡®³ª´Â ½Ã-ÀÎ-ºÎ¿Í ÇÔ²² °¡³ë¶ó,¡¯ ±×¸®°í ¸ÁÅä ¾Æ·¡ ¸Ç ÆÈ·Î ÇàÇÏ´Â ¶È °°Àº Á¦½ºÃ³¸¦ º¸À̰í, ±× ½ÖµéÀº Á¶½É½º·¯ÀÌ °È°í ±×µé ¾î±ú¿£ âµµ³¢¸¦ °ÉÄ¡¸ç, ¾î¶² À̵éÀº ½É°¢ÇÑ ±×¸®°í ½½Ç ¾ó±¼µéÀ» Çϸç, ¾î¶² À̵éÀº ¸»°ú Àâ´äÀ» ³ª´©¸ç, µÑ·¹¿¡¼­ ±×µéÀÇ ÀÚ¸®µéÀ» ã¾Æ°¡°í ³ë·¡¸¦ ½ÃÀÛÇÑ´Ù. ¸ðµÎ°¡ ÀßÇϰí ÀÖ´Â °Í °°´Ù; ±×·¯³ª ´Ù½Ã ÁöÈÖºÀÀÌ Å¹Å¹ °Å¸®°í, ÁöÈÖÀÚ´Â ±«·Ó°í ¾ÇÀÌ ¹ÞÄ£ ¸ñ¼Ò¸®·Î ³²¼º ¹× ¿©¼º ÇÕâ´Ü¿øµéÀ» ²Ù¢´Â´Ù: »ý±âÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ¸·Î ³ë·¡¸¦ ºÎ¸£´Â µµÁß¿¡ ¶§¶§·Î ÆÈÀ» µéÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¡®´ç½Åµé ¸ðµÎ µØÁø °Å¾ß ¹¹¾ß? ¸ÛûÀÌµé¾Æ! µØÁöÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù¸é ¿Ö ¿òÁ÷ÀÌÁö ¾Ê´Â °Å¾ß?¡¯ ±×¸®°í ´Ù½Ã ½ÃÀ۵ȴÙ. ¡®³ª´Â ½Ã-ÀÎ-ºÎ¿Í ÇÔ²² Çϳë¶ó,¡¯ ±×¸®°í ¿©¼º ÇÕâ´Ü¿øµéÀº ½½Ç ¾ó±¼µéÀ» ÇÏ¸ç ³ë·¡ ºÎ¸£°í ÀÌÁ¨ ÀÌ»ç¶÷ ±×¸®°í ÀÌÁ¨ Àú »ç¶÷ÀÌ ÆÈÀ» µç´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¿©¼ºÇÕâ´Ü¿ø µÑÀ̼­ Àâ´ãÀ» ³ª´«´Ù - ±×¸®°í Á»´õ ¸Í·ÄÇÑ ÁöÈÖºÀ µÎµå¸®´Â ¼Ò¸®°¡ ³­´Ù. ¡®´ç½Åµé ¿©±â¿¡ ¶°µé·¯ ¿Â °Å¾ß ¹¹¾ß? ¼ö´Ù´Â Áý¿¡¼­ ¶³¾î. °Å±â ³Ê, »¡°£ ¹ÙÁö, ´õ °¡±îÀÌ ¿òÁ÷¿©. ³ª¸¦ ºÁ. óÀ½ºÎÅÍ.¡¯ ´Ù½Ã, ¡®³ª´Â ½Ã-ÀÎ-ºÎ¿Í ÇÔ²²Çϳë¶ó.¡¯ ±×¸®°í ±×·¸°Ô ÇÑ ½Ã°£, µÎ ½Ã°£ ¼¼½Ã°£ µ¿¾È °è¼ÓµÈ´Ù. ±×·¯ÇÑ ¸®Çã¼³ Àüü´Â °á±¹ ¿©¼¸ ½Ã°£À̳ª °è¼ÓµÈ´Ù. ÁöÈÖºÀ µÎµå¸®±â, ¹Ýº¹µé, ÀÚ¸®¹èÄ¡µé, °¡¼öµé ¹× ¾Ç´Ü ±³Á¤Çϱâ, Çà·Ä, ¹«¿ë, ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ÍÀº ¼º³­ ¿å¼³·Î ¹ö¹«·ÁÁø´Ù. ³ª´Â ¡®¿ìµÐÇÑ ³à¼®µé, ¹Ùº¸µé, ¸ÛûÀ̵é, µÅÁö¡¯ ¿Í °°Àº ´Ü¾îµéÀ» À½¾Ç°¡ ¹× °¡¼ö µé¿¡°Ô ÇÑ ½Ã°£ÀÌ Áö³ª´Â µ¿¾È °ÅÀÇ »ç½Ê ¹øÀ̳ª Áú·¯´ë´Â °ÍÀ» µé¾ú´Ù. ±×¸®°í ºÒÇàÇÑ »ç¶÷µé, À°Ã¼Àû ±×¸®°í µµ´öÀûÀ¸·Î ºÒ±¸ÀÎ »ç¶÷ - ÇÃ·çÆ® ÁÖÀÚ, È¥ ¿¬ÁÖÀÚ, °¡¼ö - Àº ¿å¼³À» µè°í¼­µµ ¾äÀüÈ÷ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ¿ä±¸ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ÇàÇϸç, ¡®³ª´Â ½Ã-ÀÎ-ºÎ¿Í ÇÔ²² Çϳë¶ó¡¯¸¦ ½º¹« ¹øÀ̳ª, ´Ü ÇϳªÀÌ¸ç µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ±¸ÀýÀ» ½º¹« ¹øÀ̳ª ¹Ýº¹ÇÏ°í ´Ù½Ã±Ý ¾î±ú¿£ âµµ³¢¸¦ ¸Å°í ³ë¶õ ½Å¹ßÀ» ½Å°í¼­ À̸®Àú¸® ÇàÁøÀ» ÇÑ´Ù. ÁöÈÖÀÚ´Â ÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ Áöµ¶ÇÑ º´½ÅµéÀÌ¶ó¼­ È¥À» ºÎ¸£´Â °Í µµ´Â ³ë¶õ ½Å¹ß¿¡ âµµ³¢¸¦ ¸Å°í À̸®Àú¸® °È´Â °Í ¿Ü¿¡´Â ¾Æ¹« ¦¿¡µµ ¾µ¸ð ¾øÀ¸¸ç, ±×µéÀº ´ÞÄÞÇÏ°í »çÄ¡½º·¯¿î »î¿¡ Àͼ÷ÇØÁ® ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ÀÌ·± ´ÞÄÞÇÑ »îÀ» »©¾Ñ±âÁö¸¸ ¾Ê´Â´Ù¸é ¾î¶² ÀÏÀ̵ç ÂüÀ» °ÍÀ̸ç - ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ±×´Â ÁöÈÖÀÚÀÇ ¹«·ÊÇÔ¿¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀ» ¾äÀüÈ÷ ³»¸Ã±â¸ç, ±×·± °ÍÀ» ÆÄ¸®³ª ºñ¿£³ª¿¡¼­ º¸¾ÒÀ¸¹Ç·Î ´õ¿í ±×·¯ÇÏ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ¾Ë°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, °¡Àå ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ÁöÈÖÀÚµéÀº ±×·¸°Ô ÇൿÇϸç, ±×°ÍÀº À§´ëÇÑ ¿¹¼ú°¡µé¿¡°Ô ÀÖ¾î À½¾ÇÀûÀÎ ÀüÅëÀ̸ç, À̵鿡°Ô´Â À§´ëÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀûÀÎ ¼º°ú¿¡ ³Ê¹«³ª ¸Å·áµÇ¾î °ø¿¬ÀÚ µéÀÇ °¨Á¤µéÀ» °¡·Á »ìÇÊ ¿©À¯°¡ ¾ø´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ¾Ë°í ÀÖ´Ù.
It is hard to imagine a more repulsive sight. I have seen one worker scold another for not supporting the weight piled on him while unloading goods, or a village elder at haymaking abuse a worker for not building a proper rick, and the worker would be obediently silent. But however unpleasant it was to see, the unpleasantness was softened by awareness of the fact that some neces¡©sary and important task was being done, that the mistake for which the superior scolded the worker might have ruined something necessary. ´õ ÀÌ»ó Çø¿À½º·± ¸ð½ÀÀ» »ó»óÇϱâ´Â ¾î·Æ´Ù. ³ª´Â ¾î¶² ³ëµ¿ÀÚ°¡ ´Ù¸¥ ³ëµ¿ÀÚ¿¡°Ô ÁüÀ» ³»¸± ¶§¿¡ Àڽſ¡°Ô °¡ÇØÁø ¹«°Ô¸¦ ¹ÞÃÄÁÖÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù°í ¾ß´ÜÄ¡°Å³ª, ¸¶À»ÀÇ ¿¬ÀåÀÚ°¡ °ÇÃʸ¦ ¸¸µé ¶§ ÀûÇÕÇÑ °ÇÃÊ´õ¹Ì¸¦ ½×¾Æ ¿Ã¸®Áö ¾ÊÀ½¿¡ ´ëÇØ ÇÑ ³ëµ¿ÀÚ¿¡°Ô ¿å¼³À» ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» º» ÀûÀÌ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ÀÌ °æ¿ì ±× ³ëµ¿ÀÚ´Â ¾äÀüÈ÷ ħ¹¬ÇÒ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±×°ÍÀÌ º¸±â¿¡ ¾Æ¹«¸® ºÒÄèÇÏ´Ù°í ÇÏ´õ¶óµµ, ºÒÄèÇÔÀº ¾î¶² ÇÊ¿äÇϰí Áß¿äÇÑ °úÁ¦°¡ ÀÌ·ç¾î Áö°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, °ü¸®ÀÚ°¡ ²Ù¢´Â ³ëµ¿ÀÚÀÇ ½Ç¼ö°¡ ¾î¶² ÇÊ¿äÇÑ °ÍÀ» ¸ÁÄ¥ ¼öµµ ÀÖ´Ù´Â »ç½ÇÀ» ÀνÄÇÔ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¿ÏÈ­µÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
What, then, was being done here, and why, and for whom? It was quite possible that he, the conductor, was also worn out, like that worker; one could even see that he was indeed worn out; but who told him to suffer? And on account of what was he suffering? The opera they were rehearsing was of the most ordinary kind, for those who are accustomed to them, but made up of the greatest absurdities one could imagine: an Indian king wants to get married, a bride is brought to him, he disguises himself as a minstrel, the bride falls in love with the sham minstrel and is in despair, but then learns that the minstrel is the king himself, and everyone is very pleased. ±×·±µ¥, ¿©±â¼­ ÇàÇØÁö°í ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀº ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡? ¿Ö ±×¸®°í ´©±¸¸¦ À§ÇÔÀΰ¡? ÁöÈÖÀÚÀÎ ±×µµ ¿ª½Ã Àú ³ëµ¿ÀÚó·³ ÁöÃÆÀ» °¡´É¼ºµµ »ó´çÈ÷ ÀÖ´Ù; ±×¸®°í ½ÉÁö¾î ¿ì¸®´Â ±×°¡ Á¤¸»·Î ÁöÃÆÀ½À» ±ú´ÞÀ» ¼öµµ ÀÖ´Ù; ÇÏÁö¸¸ ´©°¡ ±×¿¡°Ô °íÅë ¹ÞÀ¸¶ó°í ¸»Çߴ°¡? ±×¸®°í ¹«½¼ ÀÌÀ¯·Î ±×´Â °íÅë ¹Þ°í Àִ°¡? ±×µéÀÌ ¿¹Ç࿬½ÀÇϰí ÀÖ´Â ±× ¿ÀÆä¶ó´Â ±×µé¿¡°Ô´Â Àͼ÷ÇÑ °ÍÀ̹ǷΠ°¡Àå Æò¹üÇÑ °Í ÁßÀÇ ÇϳªÀ̾úÁö¸¸, ¿ì¸®°¡ »ó»óÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °¡Àå Å« ¸ð¼øµé·Î ÀÌ·ç¾îÁ® ÀÖ´Ù: ¾î¶² Àεð¾ð ¿ÕÀÌ °áÈ¥ÇÏ°í ½Í¾îÇÑ´Ù, ¾î¶² ½ÅºÎ°¡ ±× ¾Õ¿¡ ºÒ·Á¿À°í, ±×´Â À½À¯½ÃÀÎÀ¸·Î À§ÀåÇÑ´Ù. ½ÅºÎ´Â °¡Â¥ À½À¯½ÃÀΰú »ç¶û¿¡ ºüÁö°í ³«´ãÇÑ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ °ð ±× À½À¯½ÃÀÎÀÌ ¹Ù·Î ¿Õ ÀÓÀ» ¾Ë°Ô µÇ°í, ¸ðµÎ°¡ ¸Å¿ì Áñ°Å¿öÇÑ´Ù.
That there never were and never could be any such Indians, and that what was portrayed bore no resemblance not only to Indians but to anything else in the world, except other operas - of that there can be no doubt. That no one speaks in recitative, or expresses their feelings in a quartet, standing at a set distance and waving their arms, that nowhere except in a theatre does anyone walk that way, with tinfoil halberds, in slippers, by pairs, that no one ever gets angry that way, is moved that way, laughs that way, cries that way, and that no one in the world can be touched by such a performance - of that there can also be no doubt. ´Ù¸¥ ¿ÀÆä¶óµéÀ» Á¦¿ÜÇϰí´Â ±×·¯ÇÑ Àεð¾ðµéÀÌ °áÄÚ Á¸ÀçÇÑ ÀûÀÌ ¾øÀ¸¸ç Á¸ÀçÇÒ ¼öµµ ¾ø´Ù´Â °Í, ±×¸®°í ¹¦»çµÇ°í ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀº Àεð¾ðµé»Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ¼¼»óÀÇ ±× ¾î´À °Í°úµµ ´àÀº Á¡ÀÌ ¾ø´Ù´Â °Í - ÀÌ Á¡¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼­ ¾Æ¹«·± ÀǽÉÀÌ ÀÖÀ» ¼ö ¾ø´Ù. ¾î´À ´©±¸µµ Á¤ÇØÁø À§Ä¡¿¡ ¼­°Å³ª ±×µéÀÇ ÆÈÀ» Èçµé¸é¼­ ¼­Ã¢¿¡¼­ ¸»Çϰųª »çÁßÁÖ¿¡¼­ ±×µéÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù´Â °Í, ±ØÀå¿¡¼­ ¸»°í´Â ¾î´À °÷¿¡¼­µµ âµµ³¢¸¦ ¸Þ°í ½½¸®ÆÛ¸¦ ½Å°í ¦À» Áþ´Â ±×·± ¹æ½ÄÀ¸·Î °ÈÁö ¾Ê´Â ´Ù´Â °Í, ¾Æ¹«µµ ±×·± ½ÄÀ¸·Î È­¸¦ ³»°Å³ª, ±×·± ½ÄÀ¸·Î °¨µ¿ ¹Þ°Å³ª, ±×·± ½ÄÀ¸·Î ¿ô°Å³ª, ±×·± ½ÄÀ¸·Î ¿ïÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù´Â °Í, ±×¸®°í ¾Æ¹«µµ ±×·± °ø¿¬À¸·Î °¨µ¿ ¹ÞÁö ¾Ê´Â ´Ù´Â °Í - ÀÌ Á¡¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼­´Â ¶Ç´Â ¾Æ¹«·± ÀǽÉÀÌ ÀÖÀ» ¼ö ¾ø´Ù.
Involuntarily, a question comes to mind: for whom is this being done? Who can like it? If there are occasional pretty tunes in the opera, which it would be pleasant to hear, they could be sung simply, without those stupid costumes, processions, recitatives and waving arms. As for the ballet, in which half-naked women make voluptuous movements, intertwining in various sensual garlands, it is a downright depraved performance. So that one simply fails to understand for whom it is intended. For a cultivated man it is unbearable, tiresome; to a real working man it is totally incompre¡©hensible. It might be pleasing, and then just barely, to some depraved artisans who have picked up a gentlemanly spirit but have not yet been satiated with gentlemanly pleasures, and who want to give testimony of their civilization, or else to young lackeys. ¹«½É°á¿¡ ÇÑ °¡Áö Àǹ®ÀÌ ¸¶À½¿¡ ¶°¿À¸¥´Ù: ÀÌ ÀÏÀº ´©±¸¸¦ À§ÇØ ÇàÇØÁö°í Àִ°¡? ´©°¡ ±×°ÍÀ» ÁÁ¾ÆÇÒ ¼ö Àִ°¡? ¸¸ÀÏ ±× ¿ÀÆä¶ó¿¡ °£°£È÷ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ¼±À²µéÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© µè±â¿¡ »óÄèÇÏ´Ù¸é, ±×°ÍµéÀº ±×ó·³ ¾î¸®¼®Àº ÀÇ»óµé, Çà·Äµé, ¼­Ã¢µé ¹× ÆÈ Èçµé±â ¾øÀ̵µ ±×Àú ºÒ·Á Áú °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¹ß·¹ÀÇ °æ¿ì, ¹Ý ³ªÃ¼ÀÇ ¿©ÀÚµéÀÌ ¿©·¯ °¡Áö °ü´ÉÀûÀÎ Àå½ÄµéÀ» ÈÖ°¨°í¼­ ¿ä¿°ÇÑ µ¿ÀÛµéÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»°í ÀÖÀ¸´Ï, ÀÌ´Â ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ Ÿ¶ôÇÑ °ø¿¬ÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¿ì¸®´Â ±×°ÍÀÌ ´©±¸¸¦ ÇâÇÑ °ÍÀÎÁö ±ú´ÞÀ» ¼ö°¡ ¾ø´Ù. ±³¾ç ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ±×°ÍÀº ÂüÀ» ¼ö ¾ø°í Áö°ã´Ù; Çö½Ç¿¡¼­ ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ±×°ÍÀº ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº ½Å»ç´Ù¿î Á¤½ÅÀ» Å͵æÇÏ¿´Áö¸¸ ¾ÆÁ÷ ½Å»ç´Ù¿î Áñ°Å¿ò µé¿¡ ¸¸Á·ÇÏÁö ¸øÇÑ ±×¸®°í ±×µé ¹®¸í¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Áõ°Å¸¦ º¸À̰íÀÚ ÇÏ´Â ÀϺΠŸ¶ôÇÑ ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀ̳ª ±âŸ ¾î¸° ¾ÆÃ·²Ûµé¿¡´Â Áñ°Å¿ï °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
And all this vile stupidity is produced not only with no kindly merriment, with no simplicity, but with spite and beastly cruelty. ±×¸®°í ÀÌ ¸ðµç Áöµ¶È÷ ¾î¸®¼®Àº ÁþÀº ¾î¶² Ä£ÀýÇÑ Áñ°Å¿òµµ Áö´ÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ¾î¶² ´Ü¼øÇÔµµ Áö´ÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¾ÇÀÇ¿Í ¾ß¸¸Àû ÀÜÀÎÇÔÀ» °¡Áö°í »ý»êµÈ´Ù.
It is said that this is done for the sake of art, and that art is a very important thing. But is it true that this is art, and that art is such an important thing that such sacrifices should be offered to it? This question is particularly important because art, for the sake of which the labor of millions of people, and the very lives of people, and, above all, love among people, are offered in sacrifice, this very art is becoming something more and more vague and indefinite in people¡¯s minds. »ç¶÷µéÀº ¸»Çϱ⸦ À̰ÍÀº ¿¹¼úÀ» À§ÇØ ÇàÇØÁö¸ç ¿¹¼úÀº ¸Å¿ì Áß¿äÇÑ °ÍÀ̶ó ÇÑ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ À̰ÍÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó´Â °Í, ¿¹¼úÀÌ ±×Åä·Ï Áß¿äÇÑ °ÍÀÌ¶ó¼­ ÀÌ¿Í °°Àº Èñ»ýµéÀÌ ¹ÙÃÄÁ®¾ß ÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ »ç½ÇÀΰ¡? ÀÌ Áú¹®Àº Ưº°È÷ Áß¿äÇÏ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ¿¹¼ú, À̸¦ À§ÇØ ¼ö¹é ¸¸ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ³ëµ¿ ±×¸®°í »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¸ñ¼û ÀÚü, ±×¸®°í ¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ, »ç¶÷µé »çÀÌÀÇ »ç¶ûÀÌ Á¦¹°·Î¼­ Èñ»ýµÇ°í ÀÖ´Â ¹Ù, ¹Ù·Î ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¸¶À½ ¼Ó¿¡¼­ Á¡Á¡ ´õ ¸ðÈ£ÇÏ°í ºÒÈ®½ÇÇÑ ¾î¶² °ÍÀÌ µÇ¾î°¡°í Àֱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.
Criticism, in which lovers of art used to find support for their judgments of art, has lately become so contradictory that, if we should exclude from the realm of art all that the critics of various schools deny the right of belonging to art, almost no art would be left. ºñÆòÀº, ÀÌ ¾È¿¡¼­ ¿¹¼úÀ» »ç¶ûÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ °üÇÑ ±×µéÀÇ ÆÇ´Üµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÁöÁö¸¦ ±¸Çϰï ÇÏÁö¸¸, ÃÖ±Ù¿¡ ³Ê¹«³ª ¸ð¼øÀûÀ̾, ¸¸ÀÏ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¿µ¿ªÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ´Ù¾çÇÑ ÇÐÆÄµéÀÇ ºñÆò°¡µéÀÌ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ¼Ò¼Ó½ÃÅ´À» °ÅºÎÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» Á¦¿ÜÇÑ´Ù¸é, °ÅÀÇ ¾î¶² ¿¹¼úµµ ³²Áö ¾ÊÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
Like theologians of various trends, so artists of various trends exclude and destroy each other. Listen to the artists of the present-day schools and you will see in all branches of art one set of artists denying the others: in poetry, the old romantics deny the Parnassians and decadents; the Parnassians deny the romantics and the decadents; the decadents deny all their predecessors and the symbolists; the symbolists deny all their predecessors and les mages,  [1]  while les mages simply deny all their predecessors; in the novel, naturalists, psychologists and naturists deny each other. And it is the same in drama, painting and music. So that art, which consumes enormous amounts of human labor and of human lives, and breaks down love among people, not only is not anything clearly and firmly defined, but is understood in such contradictory ways by its lovers, that it is difficult to say what generally is understood as art, and particularly as good, useful art, in the name of which such sacrifices as are offered to it may rightly be offered. ¸¶Ä¡ ´Ù¾çÇÑ °æÇâÀÇ ½ÅÇÐÀÚµé°ú ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î, ´Ù¾çÇÑ °æÇâÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡µéµµ ¼­·Î¸¦ Á¦¿ÜÇÏ°í ÆÄ±«ÇÑ´Ù. ¿À´Ã³¯ ÇÐÆÄµéÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡µé¿¡°Ô µé¾îº¸¶ó, ±×·¯¸é ´ç½ÅÀº ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ðµç ºÐ¾ß¿¡¼­ ÀÏ´ÜÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀÌ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀ» °ÅºÎÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» º¼ °ÍÀÌ´Ù: ½Ã¹®Çп¡¼±, ±¸ ³¶¸¸ÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀÌ ÆÄ³ª½Ã¾È ¹× µ¥Ä«´ç µéÀ» °ÅºÎÇÑ´Ù; µ¥Ä«´çÀº ±×µéÀÇ ¸ðµç ¼±¹èµé ¹× »ó¡ÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀ» °ÅºÎÇÑ´Ù; »ó¡ÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀº ±×µéÀÇ ¸ðµç ¼±¹èµé ¹× ¸¶¹ý»çµéÀ» °ÅºÎÇϸç, ÇÑÆí ¸¶¹ý»çµéÀº ±×µéÀÇ ¸ðµç ¼±¹èµéÀ» °ÅºÎÇÑ´Ù; ¼Ò¼³¹®Çп¡¼±, ÀÚ¿¬ÁÖÀÇÀÚµé, ½É¸®ÁÖÀÇÀÚµé ¹× ³ªÃ¼ÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀ» ¼­·Î ºÎÀÎÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±Ø¹®ÇÐ, ±×¸² ¹× À½¾Ç¿¡¼­µµ µ¿ÀÏÇÏ´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ¿¹¼úÀº, ¾öû³­ ¾çÀÇ Àΰ£ ³ëµ¿ ¹× Àΰ£ ¸ñ¼ûµéÀ» ¼Ò¸ðÇÏ°í »ç¶÷µé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ »ç¶ûÀ» °¥¶ó ³õÁö¸¸, ¸í¹éÈ÷ ±×¸®°í È®°íÈ÷ Á¤ÀÇµÈ ¾î¶² °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ò »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×°ÍÀ» »ç¶ûÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ±×Åä·Ï ¸ð¼øÀûÀÎ ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î ÀÌÇØµÇ¾î, ¿¹¼ú·Î, ±×¸®°í ƯÈ÷ ¼±Çϰí À¯ÀÍÇÑ ¿¹¼ú·Î¼­, ±×¸®°í ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ À̸§ ¾È¿¡¼­ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ¹ÙÃÄÁö°í ÀÖ´Â °Í°ú °°Àº Èñ»ýµéÀÌ Á¤´çÇÏ°Ô ¹ÙÃÄÁú ¼ö ÀÖµµ·Ï, ÀÌÇØµÇ°í ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀ» ¸»Çϱâ¶õ ¾î·Æ´Ù.

¡¡

¡¡

II

Every ballet, circus, opera, operetta, exhibition, painting, concert, printing of a book, requires the intense effort of thousands and thousands of people, working forcedly at what are often harmful and humiliating tasks. ¸ðµç ¹ß·¹, ¼­Ä¿½º, ¿ÀÆä¶ó, ¿ÀÆä·¹Å¸, Àü½Ãȸ, ȸȭ, ¿¬ÁÖȸ, ¼­Àû ÃâÆÇÀº ¼öõ ¼ö¸¸ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¾öû³­ ³ë·ÂÀ» ¿ä±¸Çϸç, ±×µéÀº ºó¹øÈ÷ ÇØ·Î¿î °Í ¹× ¼öÄ¡½º·¯¿î ÀÓ¹«µéÀÌ¶óµµ °­¾ÐÀûÀ¸·Î ÇØ³»¾î¾ß¸¸ ÇÑ´Ù.
It would be well if artists did the whole job themselves, but no, they all need the help of workers, not only to produce art, but also to maintain their — for the most part luxurious — existence, and they get it in one way or another, in the form of fees from wealthy people, or in government subsidies - in our country, for instance, given them in millions for theatres, conservatories, academies. And this money is collected from the people, whose cow has to be sold for the purpose, and who never benefit from those aesthetic pleasures that art affords. ¸¸ÀÏ ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀÌ ½º½º·Î Àüü ÀÛ¾÷À» ÇØ³»±â¶óµµ ÇÑ´Ù¸é ¿ÇÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù, ±×µé ¸ðµÎ´Â ³ëµ¿ÀÚµéÀÇ µµ¿òÀ» ÇÊ¿ä·Î Çϸç, ÀÌ´Â ¿¹¼úÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»±â À§Çؼ­ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ´ëüÀûÀ¸·Î »çÄ¡½º·´±âµµ ÇÑ ±×µéÀÇ Á¸À縦 À¯ÁöÇϱâ À§Çؼ­¸ç, ±×µéÀº ÀÌ·±Àú·± ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î, ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ »ç¶÷µé·ÎºÎÅÍ º¸¼ö¶ó´Â ÇüÅ·Î, ¶Ç´Â Á¤ºÎ º¸Á¶±ÝÀ¸·Î ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ¿ì¸® ³ª¶ó¿¡¼± ±ØÀå, ¿¹¼úÇб³, Çпø µéÀ» À§ÇØ ¼ö¹é¸¸¾¿À̳ª ÁÖ¾îÁö´Âµ¥ - ±×°ÍÀ» ¾ò¾î³½´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÀÌ µ·Àº ¹ÎÁßµé·ÎºÎÅÍ °ÅµÎ¾îÁö¸ç, ±×µéÀÇ ¼Û¾ÆÁöµéÀÌ ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ¸ñÀûÀ¸·Î ÆÈ·Á³ª°¡Áö¸¸, ¿¹¼úÀÌ Á¦°øÇÏ´Â ±×·± ¹ÌÇÐÀûÀÎ Äè¶ôµéÀº ´©¸®Áö ¸øÇÑ´Ù.
For it was well for a Greek or Roman artist, or even for a Russian artist of the first half of our century, when there were slaves and it was considered a proper thing in all good conscience to make people serve one and one¡¯s own pleasure; but in our time, when everyone is at least dimly aware of the equal rights of all people, it is impossible to make people labour forcedly for art, without first resolving the question whether it is true that art is such a good and important thing as to redeem this coercion. ±×¸®½º ¶Ç´Â ·Î¸¶ ¿¹¼ú°¡µé¿¡°Ô ¶Ç´Â ½ÉÁö¾î ¿ì¸®ÀÇ Ã¹ ¹Ý¼¼±âÀÇ ·¯½Ã¾Æ ¿¹¼ú°¡µé¿¡°Ô, ³ë¿¹µéÀÌ ÀÖ¾úÀ¸¸ç »ç¶÷µé·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý ±×¿Í ±× ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ Äè¶ôÀ» À§ÇØ ºÀ»çÅä·Ï ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¸ðµç ¼±·®ÇÑ ¾ç½É¿¡ ÀÖ¾î ÀûÀýÇÑ °ÍÀ¸·Î ¿©°ÜÁö´ø ¶§¿¡, ±×°ÍÀº ¿ÇÀº °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù; ±×·¯³ª ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ë¿¡, ´©±¸³ª°¡ Àû¾îµµ Èñ¹ÌÇϰԳª¸¶ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀÇ µ¿µîÇÑ ±Ç¸®¿¡ ´ëÇØ ÀνÄÇϰí ÀÖ´Â ¶§¿¡, ¿¹¼úÀÌ ÀÌ·± °­¾ÐÀ» À¯ÁöÇØ¾ß ÇÒ ¸¸Å­ À¯ÀÍÇϸç Áß¿äÇÏ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ »ç½ÇÀΰ¡¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Àǹ®À» ÇØ°áÇÔÀÌ ¾ø´Ù¸é, »ç¶÷µé·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý ¿¹¼úÀ» À§ÇØ ³ëµ¿À» °­¿äÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ºÒ°¡´ÉÇÏ´Ù.
If not, it is dreadful to think that terrible sacrifices are quite possibly being offered to art in labour, people¡¯s lives and morals, while this art is not only not useful, but is even harmful. ±×·¸Áö ¾Ê´õ¶óµµ, ÀÌ·± ¿¹¼úÀÌ À¯ÀÍÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ½ÉÁö¾î´Â ÇØ·Î¿ò¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí, ³ëµ¿, »ç¶÷ÀÇ ¸ñ¼ûµé ¹× À±¸® ¾È¿¡ ¹«½Ã¹«½ÃÇÑ Èñ»ýµéÀÌ »ó´çÈ÷ °¡´É¼º ÀÖ°Ô ¹ÙÃÄÁø´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÏ¸é µÎ·Á¿î ÀÏÀÌ´Ù.
And therefore, for a society within which works of art emerge and are supported, it is necessary to know whether all that passes for art is indeed art, and whether all that is art is good, as is thought in our society, and, if it is good, whether it is important and worth the sacrifices demanded for its sake. And it is still more necessary for every conscientious artist to know that, so as to be confident that everything he does has meaning and is not a passion of the little circle of people among whom he lives, arousing in him a false confidence that he is doing a good thing, and that what he takes from other people as support of his — for the most part very luxurious — life will be compensated by the productions on which he is now working. And therefore the answers to these questions are especially important for our time. ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀÌ ÃâÇöÇÏ°í ¿ËÈ£µÇ´Â »çȸ¿¡°Ô´Â, ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©°ÜÁö´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀÌ ÁøÁ¤ ¿¹¼úÀÎÁö ±×¸®°í ¿ì¸® »çȸ¿¡¼­ ¿©±â°í ÀÖ´Â ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó°í ÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀÌ À¯ÀÍÇÑ °ÍÀÎÁö, ±×¸®°í ¸¸ÀÏ ±×°ÍÀÌ À¯ÀÍÇÏ´Ù¸é, ±×°ÍÀÌ Áß¿äÇÏ¸ç ±× ÀÚü¸¦ À§ÇØ ¿ä±¸µÇ´Â Èñ»ýµéÀÌ °¡Ä¡°¡ ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀÎÁö ¾Ë Çʿ䰡 ÀÖ´Ù. ±×¸®°í Á¦°¢±â ¾ç½ÉÀûÀÎ ¿¹¼ú°¡´Â ±×°ÍÀ» ¾Ë Çʿ䰡 ÀÖ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé, ±×·Î½á ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ ÇàÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀÌ Àǹ̸¦ Áö´Ï¸ç ÀڽŰú ÇÔ²² »ì°í ÀÖ´Â Á¶±×¸¸ ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µé ¸¸ÀÇ Á¤¿­ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó´Â °ÍÀ» È®½ÅÇϱâ À§Çؼ­¸ç, ±×·¯ÇÑ Á¤¿­ÀÌ ±×°¡ À¯ÀÍÇÑ °ÍÀ» ÇàÇϰí ÀÖ´Ù´Â ±×¸®°í ±×ÀÇ ´ëºÎºÐ ¸Å¿ì »çÄ¡½º·¯¿î »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÁöÁö·Î¼­ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô¼­ ÃëÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ Áö±Ý ±×°¡ ÀÏÇϰí ÀÖ´Â ÀÛǰµé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ º¸»ó ¹ÞÀ¸¸®¶ó´Â °ÅÁþµÈ È®½ÅÀ» ºÒ·¯ ÀÏÀ¸Å°±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ÀÌ·± Áú¹®µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ´ë´äµéÀÌ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ½Ã´ë¿¡´Â Ưº°È÷ Áß¿äÇÏ´Ù.
What, then, is this art which is considered so important and necessary for mankind that it can be offered the sacrifices not only of human labor and lives, but also of goodness, which are offered to it? ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ±×·¸´Ù¸é ¹«¾ùÀ̱淡 Àηù¿¡°Ô ±×Åä·Ï Áß¿äÇϸç ÇʼöÀûÀÎ °ÍÀ¸·Î ¿©°ÜÁ®¼­ À̸¦ À§ÇØ Àΰ£ÀÇ ³ëµ¿·Â°ú ¸ñ¼ûµé»Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ¼±ÇÔ¸¶Àú Á¦¹°·Î ¹ÙÃÄÁú ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ¸ç ¹ÙÃÄÁö°í ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀΰ¡?
What is art? Why even ask such a question? Art is architecture, sculpture, painting, music, poetry in all its forms - that is the usual answer of the average man, of the art lover, and even of the artist himself, who assumes that what he is talking about is understood quite clearly and in the same way by all people. But in architecture, one may object, there are simple buildings that are not works of art, and buildings that claim to be works of art, but are unsuccessful, ugly, and which therefore cannot be regarded as works of art. What, then, is the sign of a work of art? ¿¹¼úÀº ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡? ¿Ö ½ÉÁö¾î ÀÌ¿Í °°Àº Áú¹®À» Çϴ°¡? ¿¹¼úÀº °ÇÃà, Á¶°¢, ±×¸², À½¾Ç, ½ÃÀÇ ÇüŸ¦ Áö´Ï´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀÌ´Ù À̰ÍÀÌ ¹Ù·Î º¸Åë »ç¶÷ÀÇ, ¿¹¼úÀ» »ç¶ûÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷ÀÇ ±×¸®°í ½ÉÁö¾î ¿¹¼ú°¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ÈçÇÑ ´ë´äÀ̸ç, ±×´Â ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ ¸»Çϰí ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀ» ¸Å¿ì ¸í¹éÇÏ°Ô ±ú´Ý°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéµµ ±×·¯ÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©±â°í ÀÖ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª °ÇÃà¿¡¼­ ¿ì¸®´Â ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀÌ ¾Æ´Ñ ´Ü¼øÇÑ °Ç¹°µéµµ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀ̶ó°í ÁÖÀåµÇ´Â °Ç¹°µéµµ ¼º°øÀûÀÌÁö ¸øÇϰí ÃßÇÏ¿©¼­ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé·Î ¿©°ÜÁú ¼ö ¾ø´Â °Íµéµµ ÀÖ´Ù. ¹«¾ùÀÌ, ±×·¸´Ù¸é, ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀÇ Áõ°Å¶õ ¸»Àΰ¡?
It is exactly the same in sculpture, and in music, and in poetry. Art in all its forms borders, on the one hand, on the practically useful, and on the other, on unsuccessful attempts at art. How to separate art from the one and the other? The average educated man of our circle, and even the artist who is not especially concerned with aesthetics, will also not find this a difficult question. He thinks the answer was found long ago and is well known to everyone. Á¶°¢¿¡¼­ ±×¸®°í À½¾Ç¿¡¼­ ±×¸®°í ½Ã¿¡¼­µµ Á¤¸» µ¿ÀÏÇÏ´Ù. ¸ðµç ÇüÅÂÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº, ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î ½Ç¿ëÀûÀ¸·Î À¯ÀÍÇÑ °Í°ú, ´Ù¸¥ ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î, ¿¹¼úÀ» ÇâÇÑ ¼º°øÀûÀÌÁö ¸øÇÑ ½Ãµµµé°ú ¸Â´ê¾Æ ÀÖ´Ù. ÀüÀÚ ¹× ÈÄÀÚµé°ú ¿¹¼úÀ» ¾î¶»°Ô ºÐ¸®ÇÒ °ÍÀΰ¡? ¿ì¸® ÁÖº¯ÀÇ º¸ÅëÀÇ ±³À°¹ÞÀº »ç¶÷, ±×¸®°í ½ÉÁö¾î´Â Ưº°È÷ ¹ÌÇп¡ °ü½ÉÀÌ ¾ø´Â ¿¹¼ú°¡¶óµµ À̰ÍÀÌ ¾î·Á¿î Áú¹®ÀÌ ¾Æ´ÔÀ» ¾Ë °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×´Â ÀÌ ´äÀÌ ¿À·¡ Àü¿¡ ¹àÇôÁ³À¸¸ç ¸ðµç »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô Àß ¾Ë·ÁÁ® ÀÖ´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù.
¡®Art is that activity which manifests beauty,¡¯ such an average man will reply.  ¡®¿¹¼úÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇϴ Ȱµ¿ÀÌ´Ù,¡¯¶ó°í ±×¿Í °°Àº º¸Åë »ç¶÷Àº ´ë´äÇÒ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
¡®But, if art consists in that, then is a ballet or an operetta also art?¡¯ you will ask. ¡®ÇÏÁö¸¸, ¸¸ÀÏ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ±× Á¡¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù¸é, ¹ß·¹³ª ¿ÀÆä·¹Å¸µµ ¿¹¼úÀΰ¡?¡¯ ÇÏ°í ¹¯°Ô µÈ´Ù.
¡®Yes,¡¯ the average man will reply, albeit with some uncertainty. ¡®A good ballet and a graceful operetta are also art in as much as they manifest beauty.¡¯ ¡®±×·¸´Ù,¡¯ ÇÏ°í ¾à°£ È®½ÅÀÌ ¾ø´õ¶óµµ º¸Åë »ç¶÷À̶ó¸é ´ë´äÇÒ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¡®ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¹ß·¹¿Í ¿ì¾ÆÇÑ ¿ÀÆä·¹Å¸µµ ¿ª½Ã ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¸¦ Ç¥ÇöÇÑ´Ù´Â Á¡¿¡¼­ ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù.¡¯
But even without going on to ask the average man what distinguishes the good ballet or the graceful operetta from the ungraceful — a question it would be very difficult for him to answer — if you ask the same average man whether one can regard as art the activity of the costume-maker and hairdresser who adorn the figures and faces of women in the ballet or operetta, or the activity of the tailor Worth, or of the perfumer or the chef, he would in the majority of cases deny that the activity of the tailor, the hairdresser, the costume-maker and the chef belong to the realm of art. But here the average man will be mistaken, precisely because he is an average man and not a specialist, and has not studied the questions of aesthetics. If he should study them, he would see in the famous Renan, in his book Marc Aurèle, [2] a discussion about the art of the tailor being art, and about the dullness and limitedness of people who do not see in woman¡¯s attire a matter of the highest art. ¡®C¡¯est le grand art,¡¯ he says. Moreover, the average man would learn that in many aesthetic systems — for instance, in the aesthetics of the learned professor Kralik, Weltschönheit, Versuch einer allgemeinen Ästhetik, and in Guyau¡¯s Les problemes de l¡¯esthétique [3] the arts of costume, of taste and of touch are recognized as arts. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ½ÉÁö¾î º¸Åë »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¹ß·¹ ¶Ç´Â ¿ì¾ÆÇÑ ¿ÀÆä·¹Å¸¸¦ ¿ì¾ÆÇÏÁö ¸øÇÑ °ÍÀ» ¹«¾ùÀ¸·Î ±¸º°ÇÒ °ÍÀÎÁö ±×¿¡°Ô ÀÖ¾î ´ë´äÇϱ⿡ ¸Å¿ì ¾î·Á¿î Áú¹®À̰ÚÁö¸¸ - ¹¯Áö ¾Ê´õ¶óµµ, ¸¸ÀÏ ´ç½ÅÀÌ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ º¸Åë»ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ¹ß·¹³ª ¿ÀÆä·¹Å¸¿¡¼­ ¿©ÀÚµéÀÇ ¿Ü¸ð³ª ¾ó±¼µéÀ» Ä¡ÀåÇÏ´Â ÀÇ»ó Á¦ÀÛÀÚ³ª ¹Ì¿ë»çÀÇ È°µ¿À», ÀçºÀ»ç ¶Ç´Â ºÐÀå»ç ¶Ç´Â ¿ä¸®»çÀÇ È°µ¿À» ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©±æ ¼ö ÀÖ´ÂÁö ¹¯´Â´Ù¸é, ±×´Â ´ëºÎºÐÀÇ °æ¿ì ÀçºÀ»ç, ¹Ì¿ë»ç, ÀÇ»óÁ¦ÀÛÀÚ ¹× ¿ä¸®»çÀÇ È°µ¿ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¿µ¿ª¿¡ ¼ÓÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ºÎÀÎÇÒ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¿©±â¼­ º¸Åë »ç¶÷Àº ½Ç¼ö¸¦ ÇÒ °ÍÀÌ´Ù, Á¤È®È÷ ¸»ÇÏÀÚ¸é ±×°¡ º¸Åë »ç¶÷À̰í Àü¹®°¡°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¸ç, ¹ÌÇÐÀÇ Áú¹®µéÀ» °øºÎÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò±â ¶§¹®ÀÎ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¸¸ÀÏ ±×°¡ ±×°ÍµéÀ» °øºÎÇϱâ¶óµµ ÇÑ´Ù¸é ±×´Â À¯¸íÇÑ ¸£³¶ÀÇ Ã¥, Marc Aurèle¿¡¼­ ÀçºÀ»çÀÇ ¿¹¼úµµ ¿¹¼úÀÌ¸ç ¿©ÀÚÀÇ Àǻ󿡼­ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¼ºÀ» º¸Áö ¸øÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀÇ µÐ°¨ÇÔ ¹× ÆíÇùÇÔ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Åä·ÐÀ» ¾Ë°Ô µÉ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×´Â ¡®C¡¯est le grand art¡¯ ¶ó°í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. °Ô´Ù°¡, º¸Åë »ç¶÷Àº ¸¹Àº ¹ÌÀû ü°èµé¿¡¼­, ¿¹¸¦ µéÀÚ¸é, ÇÐ½Ä ÀÖ´Â ±³¼öÀÎ Äí¶ö¸¯ÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐ, Weltschönheit, Versuch einer allgemeinen Ästhetik ±×¸®°í ±¸¾ßÀÇ Les problemes de l¡¯esthétique¿¡¼­ ÀÇ»óÀÇ, ¸ÀÀÇ ±×¸®°í °¨°¢ÀÇ ¿¹¼úµéÀÌ ¿¹¼úµé·Î Àνĵȴٴ °ÍÀ» ¹è¿ï °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
¡®Es folgt nun ein Fünjblatt van Künsten, die der subjectiven Sinnlichkeit entkeimen [There follows then a cinquefoil of arts growing out of the subjective senses],¡¯ says Kralik. ¡®Sie sind die ästhetische Behandlung der fünf Sinne.¡¯ [4] ¡®Es folgt nun ein Fünjblatt van Künsten, die der subjectiven Sinnlichkeit entkeimen [±×¸®°í ÁÖ°üÀûÀÎ ´À³¦µé¿¡¼­ Àڶ󳪿À´Â ´Ù¼¸ ÀÙÀÇ ¿¹¼úµéÀÌ µû¸¥´Ù],¡¯ ¶ó°í Å©¶ó¸®Å©´Â ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. ¡®Sie sind die ästhetische Behandlung der fünf Sinne.¡¯
These five arts are the following: ÀÌµé ´Ù¼¸ °¡Áö ¿¹¼ú µéÀº ´ÙÀ½°ú °°´Ù:

Die Kunst des Geschmacksinns - the art of the sense of taste.
Die Kunst des Cemchsinns — the art of the sense of smell.
Die Kunst des Tastsinns - the art of the sense of touch.
Die Kunst des Gehdrsinns- the art of the sense of hearing.
Die Kunst des Cesichtsinns - the art of the sense of sight.

Die Kunst des Geschmacksinns — ¹Ì°¢ ¿¹¼ú

Die Kunst des Cemchsinns — Èİ¢ ¿¹¼ú

Die Kunst des Tastsinns — °¨°¢ ¿¹¼ú

Die Kunst des Gehdrsinns — û°¢ ¿¹¼ú

Die Kunst des Cesichtsinns — ½Ã°¢ ¿¹¼ú

Of the first, die Kunst des Geschmacksinns, the following is said: ÀÌ Áß¿¡¼­ ¸ÕÀú, die Kunst des Geschmacksinns¿¡¼­ ´ÙÀ½°ú °°ÀÌ ¸»ÇÑ´Ù:
Man halt zwar gewohnlich nur zwei oder hochstens drei Sinne fur würdig, den Stoff künstlerischer Behandlung abzugeben, aber ich glaube nur mit bedingtem Recht. Ich will kein allzu grosses Gewicht darauflegen, dass der gemeine Sprachgebrauch manch andere Künste, wie zum Beispiel die Kochkunst, kennt. ¿¹¼úÀû Àç·á´Â ÈçÈ÷ ¿ÀÁ÷ µÎ °¡Áö³ª ±â²¯ÇØ¾ß ¼¼°¡Áö °¨°¢µé·Î¼­ Ãë±ÞµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁø´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ³ª´Â À̰ÍÀÌ °ÅÀÇ ¿ÇÁö ¾Ê´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù. ³ª´Â ÀϹÝÀûÀÎ Àǹ̿¡¼­, ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ¿ä¸®°¡ ¿¹¼ú·Î °£Áֵȴٴ »ç½ÇÀ» °í·ÁÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» ¼ö ¾ø´Ù.
And further on: ±×¸®°í ³ª¾Æ°¡¼­:
Und es ist doch gewiss eine ästhetische Leistung, wenn es der Kochkunst gelingt aus einem thierischen Kadaver einen Gegenstand des Geschmacks in jedem Sinne zu machen. Der Grundsatz der Kunst des Geschmacksinns (die weiter ist als die sogenannte Kochkunst) ist also dieser: Es Soil alles Geniessbare als Sinnbild einer Idee behandelt werden und in jedesmaligem Einklang zur auszudrückenden Idee. [5] ±×°ÍÀº ¹°·Ð ¿ä¸® ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¹Ì°¢¿¡ ¾î¿ï¸®´Â ¾î¶² °ÍÀ» µ¿¹°ÀÇ ½Ãü·ÎºÎÅÍ ¸¸µé¾î °¥ ¶§ ¹ÌÇÐÀûÀÎ ¼º°øÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¹Ì°¢ ¿¹¼ú(ÀÌÈÄ ¿ä¸® ¿¹¼ú·Î ¾ð±ÞµÊ)ÀÇ ±Ùº» ¿ø¸®´Â À̰ÍÀÌ´Ù: ½Ä¿ë °¡´ÉÇÑ ¸ðµç °ÍÀº ¾î¶² °³³ä¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °¨°¢ À̹ÌÁö·Î Ãë±ÞµÇ¾î¾ß¸¸ ÇÑ´Ù, ±×¸®°í, ¾î¶² ÁÖ¾îÁø °æ¿ì¿¡µµ, Ç¥ÇöµÇ°íÀÚ ÇÏ´Â °³³ä°ú ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏ¿©¾ß ÇÑ´Ù.¡¯
Like Renan, the author also recognizes a Kostumkunst, and so on. ¸£³¶Ã³·³, ÀÛ°¡´Â ¶ÇÇÑ Àǻ󿹼ú, µîµîÀ» ÀÎÁ¤ÇÑ´Ù.

The same opinion is held by the French writer Guyau, who is very highly esteemed by some writers of our time. In his book Les problemes de l¡¯esthétique, he speaks seriously of the senses of touch, taste and smell giving or being able to give aesthetic impressions:

µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ÀǰßÀº ÇÁ¶û½º ÀÛ°¡ ±¸¾ß¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °ßÁöµÇ¸ç, ±×´Â ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ëÀÇ ÀϺΠÀÛ°¡µé¿¡°Ô¼­ ¸Å¿ì ³ôÀÌ ÀÎÁ¤ ¹Þ°í ÀÖ´Ù. ±×ÀÇ Ã¥ ¹ÌÇÐÀÇ ¹®Á¦(Les problemes de l¡¯esthétique)¿¡¼­, ±×´Â ¹ÌÀûÀÎ ÀλóÀ» Áְųª ÁÙ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â Ã˰¢, ¹Ì°¢ ¹× Èİ¢À» Áß¿äÇÏ°Ô À̾߱â ÇÑ´Ù:
Si la couleur manque au toucher, il nous fournit en revanche une notion, que l¡¯oeil seui ne peut nous donner et qui a une valeur esthétique considérable: celle du doux, du soyeux, du poli. Ce qui caractérise la beauté du velours, c¡¯est la douceur au toucher non moins que son brillant. Dans l¡¯idée que nous nous faisons de la beauté d¡¯une femme, la velouté de sa peau entre comme élément essentiel. ¸¸ÀÏ Ã˰¢¿¡ »ö»óÀÌ °á¿© µÇ¾î ÀÖ´Ù¸é, ±×°ÍÀº ´ë½Å¿¡ ´« È¥ÀÚ¸¸ÀÌ ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ÁÙ ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç, »ó´çÇÑ ¹ÌÀûÀÎ °¡Ä¡¸¦ Áö´Ñ °³³äÀ» ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô Á¦°øÇØ Áشٴ °ÍÀÌ´Ù:  ºÎµå·¯¿î, ºñ´Ü°°Àº, ¸Å²ö¸Å²öÇÑ ´À³¦. º§ºªÀÇ ¹Ì¸¦ Ư¡Áþ´Â °ÍÀº ¸¸Á®¼­ ºÎµå·¯¿î °ÍÀÌÁö ±×°ÍÀÇ ±¤ÅÃÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. ¿©ÀÚÀÇ ¹Ì¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¿ì¸® ½º½º·Î°¡ ¸¸µé¾î ³»´Â °³³ä ¾È¿¡´Â ´Ù¸¥ ÇǺÎÀÇ ºÎµå·¯¿òÀÌ ÇʼöÀûÀÎ ¿ä¼Ò·Î µé¾î°£´Ù.

Chacun de nous probablement avec un peu d¡¯attention se rappellera des jouissances du goût, qui ont été de véritables jouissances esthétiques. [6]

¿ì¸® °¢ÀÚ´Â, Á¶±×¸¶ÇÑ ÁÖÀǷεµ, ¾Æ¸¶µµ ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ ¹ÌÇÐÀû Áñ°Å¿òÀ̾ú´ø ÃëÇâÀÇ Áñ°Å¿ò µéÀ» ȸ»óÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù.

And he tells how a glass of milk drunk in the mountains gave him aesthetic pleasure. ±×¸®°í ±×´Â ¾î¶»°Ô ÇØ¼­ »ê ¼Ó¿¡¼­ ¸¶½Å ÇÑ ÀÜÀÇ ¿ìÀ¯°¡ ±×¿¡°Ô ¹ÌÇÐÀûÀÎ Áñ°Å¿òÀ» ÁÖ¾ú´ÂÁö ¸»ÇÑ´Ù.
Thus the notion of art as the manifestation of beauty is not at all as simple as it seems, especially now when our senses of touch, taste, and smell are included in it, as they are by the latest aestheticians. ±×·¡¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Ç¥Ãâ·Î¼­ ¿¹¼úÀÇ »ó¡Àº, ÃÖ±ÙÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ ±×·± °Íó·³, ƯÈ÷ Áö±Ý ¿ì¸®ÀÇ Ã˰¢, ¹Ì°¢, ¹× Èİ¢ÀÌ ±× ¾È¿¡ Æ÷Ç﵃ ¶§  °Ñº¸±âó·³ ÀüÇô ´Ü¼øÇÏÁö°¡ ¾Ê´Ù.
But the average man either does not know or does not want to know this, and is firmly convinced that all questions of art are simply and clearly resolved by the recognition of beauty as the content of art. For the average man it seems clear and comprehensible that art is the manifestation of beauty; and by beauty all questions of art are explained to him. ÇÏÁö¸¸ º¸Åë »ç¶÷Àº À̰ÍÀ» ¾ËÁö ¸øÇϰųª ¾Ë°í ½Í¾î ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¹®Á¦´Â ¿¹¼úÀÇ ³»¿ëÀ¸·Î¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ÀνĿ¡ ÀÇÇØ ´Ü¼ø ¸íÄèÇÏ°Ô ÇØ°áµÈ´Ù°í È®½ÅÇÑ´Ù. º¸Åë »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ÀÖ¾î ¿¹¼úÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Ç¥ÃâÀ̸ç, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ¸·Î ¸ðµç ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¹®Á¦µéÀÌ ±×µé¿¡°Ô ¼³¸íµÈ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ ¸í¹éÇÏ°í ³³µæÀÌ °¡´Â °Íó·³ º¸ÀδÙ.
But what is this beauty which, in his opinion, makes up the content of art? How is it defined, and what is it? ÇÏÁö¸¸, ±×ÀÇ »ý°¢¿¡¼­, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ³»¿ëÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â ÀÌ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¶õ ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡: ±×°ÍÀº ¾î¶»°Ô Á¤ÀǵǸç, ±×°ÍÀº ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡?

As happens with everything, the more vague and confused the concept conveyed by a word, the greater is the aplomb and assurance with which people use the word, pretending that what is understood by this word is so simple and clear that it is not even worth talking about what it actually means. This is how people usually act with regard to questions of religious superstition, and this is how they act in our time with regard to the concept of beauty. It is assumed that everyone knows and understands what is meant by the word beauty. And yet not only is this not known, but now, after mountains of books have been written on the subject by the most learned and profound men over the course of one hundred and fifty years — since 1750, when Baumgarten founded aesthetics [7] — the question of what beauty is remains completely open, and each new work on aesthetics resolves it in a new way. One of the latest books I happen to have read on aesthetics is a nice little book by Julius Mithalter, entitled Rätsel des Schönen [¡®The Riddle of the Beautiful¡¯]. And this title expresses quite correctly the state of the question of what beauty is. After thousands of learned men have discussed it for one hundred and fifty years, the meaning of the word beauty has remained a riddle. The Germans resolve this riddle after their own fashion, albeit in hundreds of different ways; the psychologist-aestheticians, mostly Englishmen of the Herbert Spencer—Grant Alien school, [8] also each in his own fashion; the French eclectics and the followers of Guyau and Taine, [9] also each in his own fashion — and all these men know all the preceding solutions of Baumgarten, Kant, Schelling, Schiller, Fichte, Winckelmann, Lessing, Hegel, Schopen¡©hauer, Hartmann, Schassler, Cousin, Leveque, and others. [10]

¸ðµç °Í¿¡¼­ ÀÏ¾î ³ªµí, ¸»¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Àü´ÞµÇ´Â °³³äÀÌ ¾Ö¸ÅÇϰí È¥µ¿ÀÌ µÉ ¼ö·Ï, »ç¶÷µéÀÌ »ç¿ëÇÏ´Â ¸»¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¹ÏÀ½°ú È®½ÅÀÌ ´õ °­Çϸç, ÀÌ ¸»·Î¼­ ±ú´Ý´Â °ÍÀÌ ³Ê¹«³ª ´Ü¼ø ¸íÄèÇÏ¿© ±×°ÍÀÌ ½ÇÁ¦·Î ¹«¾ùÀ» ÀǹÌÇÏ´ÂÁö ³íÀÇÇØ º¼ °¡Ä¡Á¶Â÷ ¾ø´Â °Íó·³ ¿©±ä´Ù. À̰ÍÀº »ç¶÷µéÀÌ Á¾±³Àû ¹Ì½ÅÀÇ ¹®Á¦µé¿¡ ´ëÇØ ÈçÈ÷ ´ëÇÏ´Â ¹æ¹ýÀ̸ç, À̰ÍÀÌ ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ë¿¡ ¹ÌÀÇ °³³ä¿¡ ´ëÇØ ´ëÇÏ´Â ¹æ¹ýÀÌ´Ù. ¸ðµÎ°¡ ¹Ì¶ó´Â ¸»ÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀ» ÀǹÌÇÏ´ÂÁö ¾Ë°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ÀÌÇØÇϰí ÀÖ´Ù°í ´ÜÁ¤µÇ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª À̰ÍÀº ¾Ë·ÁÁ® ÀÖÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó,  — ¹Ù¿ò°¡Æ°ÀÌ ¹ÌÇÐÀ» â½ÃÇÑ ÀÌ·¡  150¿© ³â µ¿¾È °¡Àå ÇÐ½Ä ÀÖ°í ½É¿ÀÇÑ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀÌ ÁÖÁ¦¿¡ ´ëÇØ »ê´õ¹Ì °°Àº Ã¥µéÀÌ ¾²¿©Á³Áö¸¸, ÇöÀç, ¹Ì¶õ ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¹®Á¦´Â ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ¿­·Á ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ¹ÌÇп¡ ´ëÇÑ Àú¸¶´Ù »õ·Î¿î ÀÛǰµéÀÌ À̸¦ »õ·Î¿î ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î Ç®¾î³ª°¡°í ÀÖ´Ù. ¹ÌÇп¡ ´ëÇØ ³»°¡ ¿ì¿¬È÷ ÀÐÀº Ã¥µé Áß °¡Àå ÃÖ±ÙÀÇ °ÍÀº ÁÙ¸®¾î½º ¹ÌÅ»ÅͰ¡ ÁöÀº »ê¶æÇϰí Àڱ׸¸ Ã¥À¸·Î, Á¦¸ñÀº Rätsel des Schönen['¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ¼ö¼ö²²³¢']ÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÀÌ Á¦¸ñÀº ¹Ì¶õ ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¹®Á¦ÀÇ »óŸ¦ ¸Å¿ì Á¤È®ÇÏ°Ô Ç¥ÇöÇϰí ÀÖ´Ù. 150¿© ³â µ¿¾È ¼öõ ¸íÀÇ ÇÐÀÚµéÀÌ À̰ÍÀ» Åä·ÐÇÑ µÚ¿¡µµ, ¹Ì¶õ ¸»ÀÇ Àǹ̴ ¼ö¼ö²²³¢·Î ³²¾Æ ÀÖ´Ù. µ¶ÀÏÀεéÀº ÀÌ ¼ö¼ö²²³¢¸¦ ¼ö¹é °¡Áö ´Ù¸¥ ¹æ¹ýµéÀÓ¿¡µµ ±×µé ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¹æ½Ä´ë·Î Ç®¾î³½´Ù, ; ½É¸®ÇÐÀÚ-¹ÌÇÐÀÚµé, ´ëºÎºÐ Çã¹öÆ® ½ºÆæ¼­¿Í ±×·£Æ® ¿¤¸®¾ð ÇÐÆÄÀÇ ¿µ±¹ÀÎµé ¿ª½Ã ±×µé ¹æ½Ä´ë·Î; ÇÁ¶û½ºÀÇ ÀýÃæÁÖÀÇÀÚµé ¹× ±¸¾ß¿Í Å×ÀÎÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµé ¿ª½Ã ±×µé ¹æ½Ä´ë·Î Ç®¾î ³ª°£´Ù — ±×¸®°í ÀÌ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀº ¹Ù¿ò°¡Æ°, Ä­Æ®, ½©¸µ, ½¯·¯, ÇÇÈ÷Å×, À®Ä̸¸, ·¹½Ì, Çì°Ö, ¼ÒÆæÇÏ¿ì¾î, ÇÏÆ®¸¸, ½¯¶ó½½·¯, ÄÚ¼Ä, ·¹º£Å©, µîÀÇ ¾Õ¼­ ³»³õÀº ¸ðµç ÇØ¹ýµéÀ» ¾Ë°í ÀÖ´Ù.
What, then, is this strange concept of beauty, which seems so comprehensible to those who do not think about what they are saying, while for one hundred and fifty years, philosophers of various nations and of the most various trends have been unable to agree on its definition? What is this concept of beauty, upon which the reigning doctrine of art is based? ±×·¯¸é, ¹Ì¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ·± ÀÌ»óÇÑ °³³äÀº ¹«¾ùÀ̱淡, ¹«¾ùÀ» ¸»Çϰí ÀÖ´ÂÁö »ý°¢ÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Õ ¸Å¿ì ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °Íó·³ º¸À̰í, 150¿© ³â µ¿¾È, ¸¹Àº ±¹°¡µé ¹× ¸Å¿ì ´Ù¾çÇÑ °æÇâÀÇ Ã¶ÇÐÀÚµéÀº ±× Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ ÇÕÀǸ¦ º¼ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú´Ù´Â °ÍÀΰ¡? ÀÌ·± ¹ÌÀÇ °³³äÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀ̱淡, ¿¹¼úÀÇ Áö¹èÀû Çм³ÀÌ ±âÃʸ¦ µÎ°í Àִ°¡?
In Russian, by the word krasota [¡®beauty¡¯] we mean only that which is pleasing to the sight. Though lately people have begun to say of an action that it is nekrasivy [¡®unbeautiful¡¯, i.e. bad] or of music that it is krasivaya [¡®beautiful¡¯], this is not really Russian. ·¯½Ã¾Æ¿¡¼­, krasota [¡®¹Ì¡¯] ¶õ ´Ü¾î´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ º¸±â¿¡ Áñ°Å¿î °ÍÀ» ÀǹÌÇÑ´Ù. ±Ù·¡¿¡ nekrasivy [¡®¾Æ¸§´äÁö ¸øÇÑ¡¯, Áï, ³ª»Û] ÇàÀ§ ¶Ç´Â krasivaya [¡®¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î¡¯] À½¾ÇÀ» ¸»ÇÔ¿¡ »ç¿ëµÇ±â ½ÃÀÛÇßÁö¸¸, À̰ÍÀº »ç½Ç ·¯½Ã¾ÆÀûÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù.
A Russian man of the people, who does not know foreign languages, will not understand you if you tell him that a man who gave his last clothes to another, or something like that, acted krasivo, or that by deceiving another he acted nekrasivo, or that a song is krasivaya. In Russian, an action can be kind and good, or wicked and unkind; music can be pleasant and good, or unpleasant and bad, but it can never be either beautiful or unbeautiful. ¿Ü±¹¾î¸¦ ¸ð¸£´Â ·¯½Ã¾Æ ¹ÎÁßÀÎ »ç¶÷Àº ´ç½ÅÀÌ ±×¿¡°Ô ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ³²Àº ¿ÊÀ» ¶Ç´Â ºñ½ÁÇÑ ¾î¶² °ÍÀ» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ÁØ »ç¶÷ÀÌ krasivoÇÏ°Ô Çൿ Çߴٰųª, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷À» ¼ÓÀÓÀ¸·Î½á nekrasivoÇÏ°Ô ÇൿÇߴٰųª, ¾î¶² ³ë·¡°¡ krasivaya¶ó°í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×´Â ´ç½ÅÀÇ ¸»À» ±ú´ÝÁö ¸øÇÒ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ·¯½Ã¾Æ¿¡¼­, ¾î¶² ÇàÀ§´Â Ä£ÀýÇÒ ¼öµµ ¼±ÇÒ ¼öµµ, ¶Ç´Â ¾ÇÇÒ ¼öµµ ºÒÄ£ÀýÇÒ ¼öµµ ÀÖ´Ù; À½¾ÇÀº Áñ°Å¿ï ¼öµµ ÁÁÀ» ¼öµµ, ¶Ç´Â ºÒÄèÇÒ ¼öµµ ³ª»Ü ¼öµµ ÀÖÁö¸¸, ±×°ÍÀÌ °áÄÚ ¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù°Å³ª ¾Æ¸§´äÁö ¾ÊÀ» ¼ö´Â ¾ø´Ù.
A man, a horse, a house, a view, a movement may be beautiful, but of actions, thoughts, character, music, we may say they are good, if we like them very much, or not good, if we do not like them; we can say ¡®beautiful¡¯ only of what is pleasing to our sight. So that the word and concept ¡®good¡¯ includes within itself the concept ¡®beautiful¡¯, but not vice versa: the concept ¡®beautiful¡¯ does not cover the concept ¡®good¡¯. If we say of an object valued for its appearance that it is ¡®good¡¯, we are thereby saying that this object is also beautiful; but if we say it is ¡®beautiful¡¯, that by no means implies that the object is good. »ç¶÷, ¸», Áý, dz°æ, ¿òÁ÷ÀÓÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ï °ÍÀÌ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ Çൿµé, »ý°¢µé, ¼º°Ý, À½¾Ç¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼± ±×°ÍµéÀ» ¸Å¿ì ÁÁ¾ÆÇÑ´Ù¸é ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ÁÁ´Ù°í ¸»Çϰųª, ±×°ÍµéÀ» ÁÁ¾ÆÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù¸é, ÁÁÁö ¾Ê´Ù°í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù; ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ ¿ì¸® ´«¿¡ Áñ°Å¿î °ÍÀ» '¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù'°í ¸»ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. ±×·¡¼­ 'ÁÁ´Ù'´Â ¸» ¹× °³³äÀº ±× ³»ºÎ¿¡ '¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù'´Â °³³äÀ» Æ÷ÇÔÇÑ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±× ¿ªÀº ¾Æ´Ï´Ù: '¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù'´Â °³³äÀº 'ÁÁ´Ù'´Â °³³äÀ» ¸Á¶óÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù. ¸¸ÀÏ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿Ü¾ç ¶§¹®¿¡ °¡Ä¡ ÀÖ´Ù°í ¿©±â´Â ¾î¶² ¹°Ã¼¿¡ ´ëÇØ ±×°ÍÀÌ "ÁÁ´Ù"°í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù¸é, ¿ì¸®´Â ±×·Î½á ÀÌ ¹°Ã¼°¡ ¶ÇÇÑ ¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù°í ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù; ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¸¸ÀÏ ¿ì¸®°¡ ±×°ÍÀÌ '¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù'°í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×°ÍÀº °áÄÚ ±× ¹°Ã¼°¡ ÁÁ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ÀǹÌÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù.
Such is the meaning ascribed to the words and concepts ¡®good¡¯ and ¡®beautiful¡¯ by the Russian language, and therefore by the sense of the Russian people. ·¯½Ã¾Æ ¾ð¾î¿¡ ÀÇÇØ, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ·¯½Ã¾Æ »ç¶÷ÀÇ ÀνĿ¡ ÀÇÇØ, 'ÁÁ´Ù' ¹× '¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù'´Â ¸»µé ¹× °³³äµé¿¡ ºÎ¿©µÈ Àǹ̴ ÀÌ·¯ÇÏ´Ù.
In all European languages, the languages of those people among whom the doctrine of beauty as the essence of art has spread, the words beau, schön, beautiful, bello, while keeping the meaning of beauty of form, have also come to signify ¡®good-ness¡¯ — that is, have come to replace the word ¡®good¡¯. ¸ðµç À¯·´ ¾ð¾îµé¿¡¼­, ¹Ì¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Çм³ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÇ º»Áú·Î¼­ ÀüÆÄµÈ ³ª¶ó »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¾ð¾îµéÀº, Áï,´ÙÀ½ ´Ü¾îµé beau, schön, beautiful, belloÀº, ¸ð¾çÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ¶æÀ» °£Á÷Çϸ鼭µµ, ¶ÇÇÑ 'ÁÁÀ½'À» ÀǹÌÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù — Áï, 'ÁÁ´Ù'¶ó´Â ¸»À» ´ëüÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù.
So that these languages now quite naturally employ such expressions as belle âme, schöne Gedanken, or beautiful deed, and yet these languages do not have an apposite word for defining beauty of form and must employ such combinations of words as beau par la forme, and so on. ±×·¡¼­ ÀÌµé ¾ð¾îµéÀº ÀÌÁ¦  belle âme, schöne Gedanken, ¶Ç´Â beautiful deed¿Í °°Àº Ç¥ÇöµéÀ» ¸Å¿ì ÀÚ¿¬½º·´°Ô ÀÌ¿ëÇÑ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ÀÌµé ¾ð¾îµéÀº ¸ð¾çÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» Á¤ÀÇÇÏ´Â ´ë¸³ÀûÀÎ ¸»À» °¡ÁöÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç beau par la forme¿Í °°Àº ¸»µéÀÇ Á¶ÇÕÀ» »ç¿ëÇØ¾ß¸¸ ÇÑ´Ù.
Observing the meaning that the word ¡®beauty¡¯, ¡®the beautiful¡¯, has in the Russian language, and in the languages of the people among whom aesthetic theory has been established, we see that the word ¡®beauty¡¯ is endowed by these people with some special meaning — namely, the meaning of 'good'. '¹Ì', '¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù'¶ó´Â ¸»ÀÌ ·¯½Ã¾Æ ¾ð¾î¿¡¼­ ±×¸®°í ´Ù¸¥ ³ª¶ó¹ÌÇÐÀûÀÎ ÀÌ·ÐÀÌ È®¸³µÈ ¹ÎÁßÀÇ ¾ð¾îµé¿¡¼­ Áö´Ï´Â Àǹ̸¦ »ìÆìº¸¸é, '¹Ì'¶õ ¸»Àº ÀÌ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¾î¶² Ưº°ÇÑ ÀÇ¹Ì — Áï, 'ÁÁ´Ù'´Â ÀÇ¹Ì — ¸¦ ºÎ¿© ¹ÞÀ½À» ¾Ë°Ô µÈ´Ù.
The remarkable thing is that since we Russians have begun to adopt European views of art more and more, the same evolution has begun to occur in our language as well, and people speak and write with complete assurance, and without surprising anyone, of beautiful music and unbeautiful actions or even thoughts, whereas forty years ago, in my youth, the expressions ¡®beautiful music¡¯ and ¡®unbeautiful actions¡¯ were not only not in use, but incomprehensible. Evidently this new meaning with which European thought has endowed beauty is beginning to be adopted by Russian society as well. ³î¶ó¿î ÀÏÀº ¿ì¸® ·¯½Ã¾Æ ÀεéÀÌ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ À¯·´ÀεéÀÇ °üÁ¡µéÀ» ´õ ¸¹ÀÌ Ã¤ÅÃÇϱ⠽ÃÀÛÇÑ ÀÌÈÄ, ¿ì¸® ¾ð¾î¿¡¼­µµ ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î ¶È°°Àº ÁøÈ­°¡ ½ÃÀ۵Ǿú´Ù´Â °ÍÀ̸ç, »ç¶÷µéÀº ¿ÏÀüÇÑ È®½ÅÀ¸·Î, ±×¸®°í ¾î¶² »ç¶÷µµ ³î·¡°Ô ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸é¼­, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î À½¾Ç ±×¸®°í ¾Æ¸§´äÁö ¸øÇÑ Çൿµé ¶Ç´Â ½ÉÁö¾î »ý°¢µéÀ» ¸»ÇÏ°í ¾²°í ÀÖÁö¸¸, ³ªÀÇ ¾î¸° ½ÃÀý¿£, '¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î À½¾Ç' ±×¸®°í '¾Æ¸§´äÁö ¸øÇÑ Çൿµé'Àº »ç¿ëµÇÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú´Ù. ¸í¹éÈ÷ À¯·´ÀÇ »ç»óÀÌ ¹Ì¿¡ ºÎ¿©ÇÑ ÀÌ·± »õ·Î¿î Àǹ̴ ·¯½Ã¾Æ »çȸ¿¡¼­ ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î äÅõDZ⠽ÃÀÛÇϰí ÀÖ´Ù.
What, then, is this meaning? What, then, is beauty as understood by European people? ±×·¸´Ù¸é, ÀÌ Àǹ̴ ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡? ±×·¸´Ù¸é, À¯·´ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÇ°í ÀÖ´Â ´ë·ÎÀÇ ¹Ì´Â ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡?
In order to answer this question, I will cite at least a small number of those definitions of beauty most widely spread in existing aesthetic systems. I especially beg the reader not to be bored and to read what is cited here, or, what would be better still, to read some work on aesthetics. Not to speak of voluminous German works, some good choices for this purpose are the German book by Kralik, the English one by Knight, [11] and the French one by Leveque. It is necessary to read some work on aesthetics in order to form a personal idea of the diversity of judgments and the terrible vagueness that reign in this sphere of opinion, and not to trust the words of others in this important matter. ÀÌ Áú¹®¿¡ ´äÇϱâ À§ÇØ, ³ª´Â Àû¾îµµ ±âÁ¸ÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀûÀΠü°èµé¿¡¼­ °¡Àå ³Î¸® ÆÛÁ® ÀÖ´Â ±×·± ¹ÌÀÇ Á¤Àǵ鿡 ´ëÇÑ ¸î °¡Áö¸¦ ÀοëÇϰڴÙ. ³ª´Â ƯÈ÷ µ¶Àڵ鿡°Ô ¿©±â ÀοëµÇ´Â °ÍÀ» ÀÐÀ½¿¡ ÀÖ¾î Áö·çÇÏÁö ¾Ê±â¸¦, Ȥ, Á» ´õ µµ¿òÀÌ µÈ´Ù¸é, ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇÑ ÀÛǰÀ» Á¶±ÝÀ̳ª¸¶ ÀÐ¾î º¸±â¸¦ ¹Ù¶õ´Ù. ºÎÇǰ¡ Å« µ¶ÀÏ ÀÛǰµéÀ» ¸»ÇÏÁö ¾Ê´õ¶óµµ, ÀÌ·± ¸ñÀûÀ» À§ÇØ Á¶±Ý µµ¿òÀÌ µÇ´Â °ÍµéÀ» °í¸£ÀÚ¸é, µ¶ÀϾîÀÎ Å©¶ó¸®Å©ÀÇ ¼­Àû, ³ªÀÌÆ®°¡ ¾´ ¿µ¾î ¼­Àû ¹× ·¹º£Å©°¡ ¾´ ÇÁ¶û½º¾î ¼­ÀûµéÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ¿Í °°Àº ¿µ¿ªÀÇ »ý°¢µéÀ» Áö¹èÇÏ´Â ´Ù¾çÇÑ ÆÇ´Üµé ¹× ¹«¼·µµ·Ï ¸ðÈ£ÇÔ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °³ÀÎÀûÀÎ »ý°¢À» Çü¼ºÇϱâ À§ÇØ,  ÀÌ¿Í °°Àº Áß¿äÇÑ ¹®Á¦¿¡ ÀÖ¾î ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¸»µéÀ» ¸Í½ÅÇÏÁö ¾Ê±â À§ÇØ, ¹ÌÇп¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀϺΠÀÛǰÀ» ÀÐÀ½ÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÏ´Ù.
Here, for example, is what the German aesthetician Schassler says about the character of all aesthetic research in the preface to his famous, voluminous and thorough book on aesthetics: ¿©±â¿¡, ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, µ¶ÀÏÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀÚÀÎ ½¯¶ó½½·¯°¡ ¹ÌÇп¡ ´ëÇÑ ±×ÀÇ À¯¸íÇÏ°í ¹æ´ëÇÏ¸ç ±íÀÌ ÀÖ´Â Àú¼­ÀÇ ¼­¹®¿¡¼­ ¸ðµç ¹ÌÇÐÀÇ Å½±¸ÀÇ Æ¯Â¡¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù:

One hardly finds in any other area of philosophical science such methods of research and exposition, crude to the point of contradiction, as in the area of aesthetics. On the one hand, fine phrase-making without any content, distinguished for the most part by an altogether one-sided superficiality; on the other hand, together with all its indisputable depth of research and wealth of content, a repulsive clumsiness of philosophical terminology, which clothes the simplest things in the garb of abstract scientificality, as if to make them worthy thereby of entering the bright mansions of the system; and, finally, between these two methods of research and exposition there is a third, forming a transition from the one to the other, as it were, a method consisting of eclecticism, flaunting now its fine phrase-making, now its pedantic scientificality ... A form of exposition that does not fall into any of these three defects, but is truly concrete and, while being of substantial content, expresses it in clear and popular philosophical language, is no¡©where more rarely to be encountered than in the area of aesthetics.

¿ì¸®´Â ´Ù¸¥ ¾î¶² öÇÐÀÇ ¿µ¿ª¿¡¼­µµ ¹ÌÇÐÀÇ ¿µ¿ª ¾È¿¡¼­Ã³·³, ¸ð¼ø¿¡ À̸¦ Á¤µµÀÇ ¹Ì¼÷ÇÑ ¿¬±¸ ¹× ÇØ¼³ ¹æ¹ýµéÀ» °ÅÀÇ Ã£Áö ¸øÇÑ´Ù. ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î, ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¹Ì»ç¿©±¸, ¾î¶² ³»¿ë ¾øÀÌ, ÀüÀûÀÎ ÆíÇâÀû ²®µ¥±â·Î ´ëºÎºÐ µÎµå·¯Áö°í; ´Ù¸¥ ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î, ±× ¸ðµç ³í¶õÀÇ ¿©Áö°¡ ¾ø´Â ¿¬±¸ÀÇ ±íÀÌ¿Í ³»¿ëÀÇ Ç³ºÎÇÔ°ú ÇÔ²², °¡Àå ´Ü¼øÇÑ °ÍµéÀ» Ãß»óÀû °úÇмºÀ¸·Î Æ÷ÀåÇÏ´Â, ¸¶Ä¡ ±×·³À¸·Î½á ÀåÄ¡¸¦ °®Ãá ȯÇÑ ´ëÀúÅõé·Î µé¾î°¥ ¸¸ÇÑ °¡Ä¡°¡ ÀÖ°Ô ¸¸µé±â¶óµµ ÇÏ´Â °Í °°Àº öÇÐÀû ¿ë¾îÀÇ ²ûÂïÇÑ ¾û¼ºÇÔ; ±×¸®°í, ¸¶Áö¸·À¸·Î, ¿¬±¸¿Í ÇØ¼³À̶ó´Â µÎ °¡Áö ¹æ¹ýµé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ Á¦ 3ÀÇ °ÍÀÌ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ÀÌ´Â ÀüÀÚ¿¡¼­ ÈÄÀÚ·ÎÀÇ ÀüÀ̸¦ Çü¼ºÇÏ´Â, À̸¦Å׸é, ÀýÃæÁÖÀǸ¦ ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î, ÀÌÁ¦ ±× ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¹Ì»ç¿©±¸¸¦, ÀÌÁ¦ ±× ÇöÇÐÀû °úÇмºÀ» »Ë³»¸é¼­... ÀÌ ¼¼°¡Áö ¾àÁ¡µé¿¡ ÇØ´çµÇÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç ÁøÁ¤À¸·Î È®°íÇÑ, ¹Ý¸é¿¡ »ó´çÇÑ ³»¿ëÀ» Áö´Ñ °¡¿îµ¥ ±×°ÍÀ» ¸í·áÇϰí ÀϹÝÀûÀΠöÇÐÀû ¾ð¾î·Î Ç¥ÇöÇÏ´Â ÇØ¼®ÀÇ ÇüÅ´Â, ¹ÌÇÐÀÇ ¿µ¿ª¿¡¼­ ¸¸Å­ µå¹°°Ô ¸¸³¯ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °÷Àº ¾ø´Ù.

It is enough simply to read the book of this same Schassler to be convinced of the correctness of his judgement. ±×ÀÇ ÆÇ´ÜÀÇ Á¤È®¼ºÀ» È®ÀÎÇϰíÀÚ ÇÑ´Ù¸é ±×Àú ½¯¶ó½½·¯ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ Àú¼­¸¦ ÀÐ¾î º½À¸·Îµµ ÃæºÐÇÏ´Ù.
The French writer Véron, in the preface to his very good book on aesthetics, says of this same subject: ÇÁ¶û½º ÀÛ°¡ º£·ÐÀº, ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇÑ ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¼­¹®¿¡¼­, ÀÌ °°Àº µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ÁÖÁ¦¸¦ À̾߱âÇÑ´Ù:
II n¡¯y a pas de science qui ait été de plus, que l¡¯esthétique, livrée aux réveries des métaphysiciens. Depuis Platon jusqu¡¯aux doc¡©trines officielles de nos jours, on a fait de l¡¯art je ne sais quel amalgame de fantaisies quintessenciées et de mysteres transcendentaux, qui trouvent leur expression supreme dans la concep¡©tion absolue du beau idéal prototype immuable et divin des choses réelles. [12]  ¾î¶² Çй®µµ ¹ÌÇÐ ÀÌ»óÀ¸·Î ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀÚµéÀÇ ¸Á»óµé¿¡ ¸¹ÀÌ ¹ÙÃÄÁø ÀûÀÌ ¾ø¾ú´Ù. ÇöóÅæºÎÅÍ ¿ì¸®½Ã´ëÀÇ °ø½ÄÀûÀÎ Çм³±îÁö, ¿¹¼úÀº ³ªµµ ¸ð¸£Áö¸¸ ¾î¶² Á¾·ùÀÇ ÀüÇüÀûÀΠȯ»óµé ¹× ÃÊ¿ùÀûÀÎ ½ÅºñµéÀÇ È¥ÇÕ¹°·Î ¸¸µé¾î Á³À¸¸ç, ±×°ÍµéÀº  ÃÖ°íÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ» ½ÇÀç »ç¹°µéÀÇ ºÒº¯ÀÇ ±×¸®°í ½Å¼ºÇÑ ¿øÇüÀ¸·Î¼­ ÀÌ»óÀû ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Àý´ëÀû °³³ä¿¡¼­ ã´Â´Ù.
This judgment is more than correct, as the reader will be convinced if he takes the trouble to read the following definitions of beauty which I have copied down from the major writers on aesthetics. ÀÌ·± ÆÇ´ÜÀº ¸Å¿ì Á¤È®ÇÏ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é µ¶ÀÚµéÀÌ  ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇÑ ÁÖ¿ä ÀÛ°¡¿¡°Ô¼­ ³»°¡ º£³¤  ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ °üÇÑ ¾Æ·¡ÀÇ Á¤ÀǵéÀ» ÀÐ¾î º¸´Â ¼ö°í¸¦ °¨¼öÇÑ´Ù¸é ³³µæÇÒ °ÍÀ̱⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

I will not cite the definitions of beauty ascribed to the ancients — Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and up to Plotinus — because in fact the concept of beauty separate from the good, which constitutes the basis and aim of aesthetics in our time, did not exist among the ancients. In transferring ancient judgments of beauty to our own concept of beauty, as is usually done in aesthetics, we give their words a meaning they did not have (on which see the excellent book of Benard, L¡¯esthétique d¡¯Aristote, and Walter¡¯s Geschichte der Ästhetik im Altertum). [13]

³ª´Â °í´ëÀÎµé — ¼ÒÅ©¶óÅ×½º, ÇöóÅæ, ¾Æ¸®½ºÅäÅÚ·¹½º, ±×¸®°í ÇÃ·ÎÆ¼´©½º¿¡ À̸£±â±îÁö —  ÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Á¤ÀǵéÀ» ÀοëÇÏÁö ¾Ê°Ú´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ¼±°ú ºÐ¸®µÈ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀº, ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀÇ ±âÃÊ¿Í ¸ñÀûÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, °í´ëÀÎµé »çÀÌ¿¡´Â Á¸ÀçÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °í´ëÀÇ ÆÇ´ÜµéÀ» ¿ì¸® ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀ¸·Î ÀÌÀüÇÔ¿¡¼­, ¹ÌÇп¡¼­ ÈçÈ÷ ÀÌ·ç¾îÁö´Â °Íó·³, ¿ì¸®´Â ±×µéÀÇ ¸»¿¡ ±×°ÍµéÀÌ Áö´ÏÁö ¾ÊÀº  Àǹ̸¦ ºÎ¿©Çϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù(ÀÌ¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼± ¹ö³ªµåÀÇ ÈǸ¢ÇÑ Àú¼­, L¡¯esthétique d¡¯Aristote ¹× ¿ùÅÍÀÇ Geschichte der Ästhetik im Altertum¸¦ ÂüÁ¶Ç϶ó).

¡¡

III

I will begin with the founder of aesthetics, Baumgarten. ¹ÌÇÐÀÇ Ã¢½ÃÀÚ, ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙºÎÅÍ ½ÃÀÛÇØ º¸°íÀÚ ÇÑ´Ù.
According to Baumgarten, the object of logical knowledge is truth; the object of aesthetic (that is, sensuous) knowledge is beauty. Beauty is the perfect (the absolute) perceived by the senses. Truth is the perfect perceived by reason. The good is the perfect attained by the moral will. ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙ¿¡ µû¸£¸é, ³í¸®Àû Áö½ÄÀÇ ´ë»óÀº Áø¸®ÀÌ´Ù; ¹ÌÇÐÀû (Áï, °ü´ÉÀû) Áö½ÄÀÇ ´ë»óÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº Áö°¢µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀνĵǴ ¿ÏÀü¼º (Àý´ë¼º)ÀÌ´Ù. ¼±Àº µµ´öÀû ÀÇÁö¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¼ºÃëµÇ´Â ¿ÏÀü¼ºÀÌ´Ù.
Beauty, according to Baumgarten, is defined by correspondence, that is, by the order of the parts in their mutual relations to each other, and in their relation to the whole. The aim of beauty itself is to be pleasing and to arouse desire (Wohlgefallen und Erregung eines Verlanges) a thesis directly contradictory to Kant¡¯s notion of the main property and token of beauty. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº, ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙ¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, Á¶È­¿¡ ÀÇÇØ  Áï, ºÎºÐµéÀÇ »óÈ£ °ü°èµé ¾È¿¡¼­ ºÎºÐµéÀÇ ¼­·Î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Áú¼­¿¡ ÀÇÇØ, ±×¸®°í ±×µéÀÇ Àüü¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °ü°è¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Á¤ÀÇ µÈ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ¸ñÀû ÀÚü´Â Áñ°Ì°Ô ÇÏ´Â °Í ¹× ¿å¸ÁÀ» À¯¹ß½ÃŰ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù (Wohlgefallen und Erregung eines Verlanges) Ä­Æ®ÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±âº» ¼ºÁú ¹× »ó¡¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °ü³ä¿¡ Á¤¸éÀ¸·Î ´ëÄ¡µÇ´Â ÁÖÀåÀÌ´Ù.
As for the manifestations of beauty, Baumgarten thinks that we perceive the highest manifestation of beauty in nature, and therefore the imitation of nature is, according to Baumgarten, the highest task of art (also a thesis directly contradictory to the judgments of the latest aestheticians). ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Ç¥Çöµé¿¡ ´ëÇØ, ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙÀº ¿ì¸®°¡ ÀÚ¿¬¿¡¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ °üÇÑ ÃÖ»óÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ» ÀνÄÇÑ´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ÀÚ¿¬ÀÇ ¸ð¹æÀº, ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙ¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ÀÓ¹«ÀÌ´Ù (¶ÇÇÑ ÃÖ±ÙÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀÚµéÀÇ ÆÇ´Üµé¿¡ Á¤¸éÀ¸·Î ´ëÄ¡µÇ´Â ÁÖÀåÀÌ´Ù).
Passing over Baumgarten¡¯s not very remarkable followers — Maier, Eschenburg and Eberhardt [14] — who only slightly modified their teacher¡¯s views by distinguishing the pleasant from the beautiful — I will set down the definitions of beauty in writers who came directly after Baumgarten and who define beauty quite differently. These writers are Schütz, Sulzer, Mendelssohn and Moritz. [15] In contradiction to Baumgarten¡¯s main thesis, these writers recognize as the aim of art not beauty, but the good. Thus Sulzer says that only that which contains the good can be recognized as beautiful. According to Sulzer, the aim of the whole life of mankind is the welfare of social life. It is attained through education of the moral sense, and art should be subservient to this aim. Beauty is that which evokes and educates this sense. ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙÀÇ ±×¸® µÎµå·¯ÁöÁö ¾ÊÀº ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµé — ¸¶À̾î, ¿¡½¨¹ö±× ¹× ¾îº£Çϸ£Æ® — À̵éÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ Áñ°Å¿òÀ» ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ±¸º°ÇÔÀ¸·Î½á ±×µé ½º½ÂÀÇ °ßÇØµéÀ» ¾à°£ ¼öÁ¤ÇÏ¿´´Ù — Àº Á¢¾îµÎ°í, ³ª´Â ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙ Á÷ÈÄ¿¡ µîÀåÇÏ¿´À¸¸ç ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ¸Å¿ì ´Ù¸£°Ô Á¤ÀÇÇÏ´Â ÀÛ°¡µé¿¡¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Á¤ÀǵéÀ» Àû¾î º¸°íÀÚ ÇÑ´Ù. À̵é ÀÛ°¡µéÀº ½¬Æ®, ¼úó, ¸àµ¨½ºÁ¸ ¹× ¸ð¸®Ã÷ÀÌ´Ù. ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙÀÇ ±âº» ÁÖÀå°ú ¹Ý´ëÇÏ¿©, À̵é ÀÛ°¡µéÀº ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀ» ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ¼±À̶ó°í ÀνÄÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¡¼­ ¼úó´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ ¼±À» ´ã´Â °Í¸¸ÀÌ ¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù°í ÀÎ½ÄµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù°í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. ¼úó¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ÀηùÀÇ Àüü »îÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀº »çȸÀû »îÀÇ ÇູÀÌ´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº µµ´öÀû Áö°¢ÀÇ ±³À°À» ÅëÇØ ´Þ¼ºµÇ¸ç, ¿¹¼úÀº ÀÌ·± ¸ñÀû¿¡ ºÎÇյǾî¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ÀÌ·± °¨°¢À» Àϱú¿ì°í ±³À°ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
Mendelssohn understands beauty in almost the same way. Art, according to Mendelssohn, is a carrying of the beautiful, perceived by some vague sense, to the level of the true and the good. And the aim of art is moral perfection. ¸àµ¨½ºÁ¸Àº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» °ÅÀÇ ¶È°°ÀÌ ÀÌÇØÇÑ´Ù. ¸àµ¨½ºÁ¸¿¡ µû¸£¸é, ¿¹¼úÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ», ¾à°£ ¸ðÈ£ÇÑ Àǹ̷ΠÀνĵÇÁö¸¸, Áø¸®¿Í ¼±ÀÇ ¼öÁØÀ¸·Î ²ø°í °¡´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀº µµ´öÀû ¿Ï¼ºÀÌ´Ù.
For aestheticians of this tendency, the ideal of beauty is a beautiful soul in a beautiful body. So that for them the division of the perfect (the absolute) into its three forms, of the true, the good and the beautiful, is completely effaced, and beauty again merges with the good and the true. ÀÌ·± °æÇâÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀڵ鿡°Ô À־, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ÀÌ»óÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ¿µÈ¥°ú ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î À°Ã¼ÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ±×µé¿¡°Ô À־ Áø¸®, ¼±ÇÔ ¹× ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ¼¼°¡Áö Çüŵé·ÎÀÇ ¿ÏÀü¼º(Àý´ë¼º)ÀÇ ºÐÇÒÀº ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ »ç¶óÁö¸ç, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ´Ù½Ã ¼±ÇÔ ¹× Áø¸®¿Í °áÇÕÇÑ´Ù.
However, not only is this understanding of beauty not retained by later aestheticians, but there appears the aesthetics of Winckelmann, again completely opposite to these views, most decisively and sharply separating the tasks of art from the aim of the good, and setting as the aim of art an external and even merely plastic beauty. ±×·¯³ª, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ·± ÀÌÇØ´Â ³ªÁßÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ ÁöÁöµÇÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ´Ù½Ã ÀÌ·± °ßÇØµé¿¡ ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ¹Ý´ëµÇ´Â À®Ä̸¸ÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀÌ µîÀåÇÏ¿©, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÀÓ¹«µéÀ» ¼±ÀÇ ¸ñÇ¥·ÎºÎÅÍ °¡Àå °áÁ¤ÀûÀÌ¸ç ¿¹¸®ÇÏ°Ô ºÐ¸®½Ã۸ç, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÇ¥¸¦ ¿ÜÀûÀÌ¸ç ½ÉÁö¾î ´Ü¼øÈ÷ Á¶ÇüÀÇ ¹Ì·Î ¼³Á¤ÇÑ´Ù.
According to the famous work of Winckelmann, [16] the law and aim of all art is beauty alone, completely separate from and independent of the good. Beauty can be of three kinds: (1) beauty of form; (2) beauty of idea, expressed in the pose of the figure (with regard to plastic art); (3) beauty of expression, which is possible only in the presence of the first two conditions. This beauty of expression is the highest aim of art, and was in fact realized in antique art. Consequently, the art of the present day should strive to imitate antique art. À®Ä̸¸ÀÇ À¯¸íÇÑ ÀÛǰ¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¹ýÄ¢°ú ¸ñÇ¥´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ̸ç, ¼±°ú´Â ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ºÐ¸® µ¶¸³µÈ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¼¼°¡Áö Á¾·ù°¡ ÀÖÀ» ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù: (1) ÇüÅÂÀÇ ¹Ì; (2) (Á¶Çü ¹Ì¼ú°ú °ü·ÃÇÏ¿©) Çü»óÀÇ À§Ä¡¿¡¼­ Ç¥ÇöµÇ´Â, °³³äÀÇ ¹Ì; (3) Á÷ ¾ÕÀÇ µÎ °¡Áö Á¶°ÇµéÀÇ Á¸Àç ¾È¿¡¼­ °¡´ÉÇÑ, Ç¥ÇöÀÇ ¹Ì. ÀÌ Ç¥ÇöÀÇ ¹Ì´Â ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¸ñÇ¥À̸ç, »ç½Ç °í´ë ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ½ÇÇöµÇ¾ú´Ù. °á±¹, ¿À´Ã³¯ÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº °í´ëÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀ» Èä³» ³»·Á°í ¾Ö¾²´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
Beauty is understood in the same way by Lessing and Herder, then by Goethe and all prominent German aestheticians up to Kant, from whose time, again, a different understanding of art begins. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº  ·¹½Ì°ú Ç츣´õ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ, ´ÙÀ½À¸·Î  ±«Å× ¹× Ä­Æ®¿¡ À̸£±â±îÁöÀÇ ¸ðµç Ź¿ùÇÑ ¹ÌÇÐÀڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ, µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î ÀÌÇØµÇ¸ç, ±×µéÀÇ ½Ã´ë·ÎºÎÅÍ, ´Ù½Ã±Ý, ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ö´Ù¸¥ ÀÌÇØ°¡ ½ÃÀ۵ȴÙ.
In England, France, Italy and Holland at this same time, independently from the German writers, native aesthetic theories were born, just as unclear and contradictory, and all these aestheticians, in exactly the same way as the Germans, place the concept of beauty at the foundation of their reasoning, understanding it as something that exists absolutely and either merges more or less with the good, or has the same root. In England, at around the same time as Baumgarten, or even a little earlier, Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Home, Burke, Hogarth [17] and others wrote on art. ¿µ±¹, ÇÁ¶û½º, ÀÌÅ»¸®¾Æ ¹× ³×´ú¶õµå¿¡¼­ µ¿½Ã¿¡, µ¶ÀÏÀÇ ÀÛ°¡µé°ú´Â °ü°è¾øÀÌ, ÅäÂøÀûÀÎ ¹ÌÇÐÀû À̷еéÀÌ »ý°Ü³µÀ¸¸ç, ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î ºÒ¸í·áÇÏ¸ç ¸ð¼øÀûÀ̸ç, ÀÌ ¸ðµç ¹ÌÇÐÀÚµéÀº, µ¶Àϰú Á¤È®È÷ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀ» ±×µéÀÇ Ãß·ÐÀÇ ±âÀú¿¡ µÎ¸ç, ±×°ÍÀ» Àý´ëÀûÀ¸·Î Á¸ÀçÇϰųª ´Ù¼Ò°£¿¡ ¼±°ú º´ÇÕÇÏ´Â ¾î¶² °ÍÀ¸·Î ÀÌÇØÇϸ鼭, µ¿ÀÏÇÑ »Ñ¸®¸¦ °®°í ÀÖ´Ù. ¿µ±¹¿¡¼±, ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙ°ú ´ë·« ºñ½ÁÇϰųª ½ÉÁö¾î Á¶±Ý ÀÏÂï, »þÇÁÅ×½ºº£¸®, ÇãÄ¡½¼, Ȩ, ¹öÅ©, È£°¡½º ¹× ´Ù¸¥ ÀÛ°¡µéÀÌ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇØ ½è´Ù.
According to Shaftesbury, what is beautiful is harmonious and proportionate; what is beautiful and proportionate is true; and what is beautiful and at the same time true, is also pleasant and good. Beauty, according to Shaftesbury, is known only by the spirit. God is the principal beauty — the beautiful and the good proceed from a single source. Thus, even though Shaftesbury regards beauty as something separate from the good, they still merge again into something inseparable. »þÇÁÅ×½ºº£¸®¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù´Â °ÍÀº Á¶È­¿Í ±ÕÇüÀÌ´Ù; ¾Æ¸§´ä°í ±ÕÇü ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ Áø¸®ÀÌ´Ù; ±×¸®°í ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ì¸ç µ¿½Ã¿¡ Áø¸®ÀÎ °ÍÀº ¶ÇÇÑ Áñ°Å¿ì¸ç ¼±ÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº, »þÇÁÅ×½ºº£¸®¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿ÀÁ÷ ¿µÈ¥¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¾Ë·ÁÁø´Ù. ½ÅÀº Á¦ÀÏÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ´Ù — ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ¼±ÇÔÀº ´Ü ÇϳªÀÇ ±Ù¿ø¿¡¼­ ³ª¾Æ°£´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿©, »þÇÁÅ×½ºº£¸®°¡ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ¼±ÇÔ°ú´Â º°°³ÀÇ ¾î¶² °ÍÀ¸·Î ¿©±âÁö¸¸, ±×°ÍµéÀº ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ´Ù½Ã ¶¼¾î³¾ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ¾î¶² °ÍÀ¸·Î ÇÕÃÄÁø´Ù.
According to Hutcheson, in his Origin of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, the aim of art is beauty, the essence of which consists in the manifestation of unity within diversity. In the perception of what is beautiful we are guided by ethical instinct (¡®an internal sense¡¯). This instinct may be contrary to the aesthetic one. Thus, according to Hutcheson, beauty no longer always coincides with the good, but is separate from it and sometimes contrary to it. ÇãÄ¡½¼¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ±×°¡ ¾´ ¹Ì¿Í ¼±¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿ì¸® »ç»óµéÀÇ ±â¿ø¿¡¼­, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ̸ç, ±× º»ÁúÀº ´Ù¾ç¼º ¾È¿¡¼­ ÅëÀϼºÀÇ Ç¥Çö¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î °Í¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀνĿ¡¼­ ¿ì¸®´Â À±¸®Àû º»´É ('³»Àû Áö°¢')¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀεµµÈ´Ù. ÀÌ·± º»´ÉÀº ¹ÌÀûÀÎ °Í¿¡ ¹ÝÇÒ ¼öµµ ÀÖÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ·¸°Ô ÇØ¼­, ÇãÄ¡½¼¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ´õ ÀÌ»ó ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¼±ÇÔ°ú ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ±×°Í°ú ºÐ¸®µÇ¾î ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ¶§·Î´Â ±×°Í¿¡ ´ëÄ¡µÇ±âµµ ÇÑ´Ù.
According to Home, beauty is that which is pleasant. And therefore beauty is determined only by taste. The basis for correct taste consists in the greatest wealth, fullness, force and diversity of impressions being contained within the strictest limits. This is the ideal of the perfect work of art. Ȩ¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº Áñ°Å¿î °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿À·ÎÁö ÃëÇâÀ¸·Î °áÁ¤µÈ´Ù. Á¤È®ÇÑ ÃëÇâÀÇ ±âÃÊ´Â °¡Àå ¾ö°ÝÇÑ Á¦ÇÑµé ¾È¿¡ ´ã°Ü ÀÖ´Â ÃÖ´ëÀÇ ºÎ, ¿ÏÀüÇÔ, Èû, ¹× ÀλóµéÀÇ ´Ù¾ç¼ºÀÌ´Ù. À̰ÍÀº ¿ÏÀüÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀÇ ÀÌ»óÀÌ´Ù.

According to Burke, in his Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, the sublime and the beautiful, which constitute the aim of art, are based on the sense of self-preservation and the sense of communality. These senses, considered at their sources, are means for maintaining the gens through the individual. The first is achieved by nourishment, defence and war; the second by communion and reproduction. And therefore self-preservation and the war connected with it are the source of the sublime, while communality and the sexual need connected with it are the source of beauty.

¹öÅ©¿¡ µû¸£¸é, ±×ÀÇ ¼þ°íÇÔ ¹× ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ »ç»óµéÀÇ ±â¿ø¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Ã¶ÇÐÀû °íÂû¿¡¼­, ¼þ°íÇÔ°ú ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, Àڱ⠺¸Á¸ÀÇ °¨°¢ ¹× °øµ¿¼ºÀÇ °¨°¢¿¡ ±âÃÊÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ·± °¨°¢µéÀº, ±×µéÀÇ ±Ù¿øµé¿¡ µû¶ó °í·ÁÇϸé, °³Ã¼¸¦ ÅëÇÑ ¾¾Á·ÀÇ À¯Áö¸¦ À§ÇÑ ¼ö´ÜÀÌ´Ù. ù°´Â ¾çºÐ, ¹æ¾î ¹× ÀüÀïÀ¸·Î, µÑ°´Â ±³Á¦¿Í Àç»ý»êÀ¸·Î ´Þ¼ºµÈ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î À̰Ͱú ¿¬°üµÈ Àڱ⠺¸Á¸ ¹× ÀüÀïÀº ¼þ°íÇÔÀÇ ±Ù¿øÀ̸ç, À̰Ͱú ¿¬°üµÈ °øµ¿¼º ¹× ¼ºÀû ¿å±¸´Â ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ±Ù¿øÀÌ´Ù.

Such were the main English definitions of art and beauty in the eighteenth century.

ÀÌ·¯ÇÔÀÌ ¹Ù·Î 18¼¼±âÀÇ ¿¹¼ú ¹× ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿µ±¹ÀÇ ÁÖµÈ Á¤ÀǵéÀÌ´Ù.

In France at the same time, Père André, Batteux, [18] and, later, Diderot, D¡¯Alembert and, to some extent, Voltaire, wrote on art.

°°Àº ½Ã´ëÀÇ ÇÁ¶û½º¿¡¼­, ÇÇ¿¡¸£ ¾Èµå·¹, ¹ÙÅä, ¹× ÈıâÀÇ µðµ¥·Î, ´Þ·¥¹öÆ® ±×¸®°í, ¾î´À ¸é¿¡¼­, º¼Å׸£°¡ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ °üÇÏ¿© ½è´Ù.

According to Père André (Essai sur Ie Beau), there are three kinds of beauty: (1) divine beauty, (2) natural beauty and (3) artificial beauty.

ÇÇ¿¡¸£ ¾Èµå·¹ (Essai sur Ie Beau)¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¼¼ °¡ÁöÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù: (1)½ÅÀûÀÎ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò, (2)ÀÚ¿¬ÀûÀÎ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò ±×¸®°í (3)ÀÎÀ§ÀûÀÎ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò.

According to Batteux, art consists in imitating the beauty of nature, and its aim is pleasure. Diderot¡¯s definition of art is the same. The arbiter of what is beautiful is supposed to be taste, just as with the English. But not only are the laws of taste not established, it is even acknowledged that to do so is impossible. D¡¯Alembert and Voltaire were of the same opinion.

¹ÙÅä¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿¹¼úÀº ÀÚ¿¬ÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» Èä³» ³¿¿¡ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±× ¸ñÀûÀº Äè¶ôÀÌ´Ù. µðµ¥·ÎÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÇ Á¤Àǵµ µ¿ÀÏÇÏ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î °Í¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ½ÉÆÇÀÚ´Â ÃëÇâÀ¸·Î µÇ¾î ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ¿µ±¹°ú °ÅÀÇ °°´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ÃëÇâÀÇ ¹ýÄ¢µéÀº È®¸³µÇÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ½ÉÁö¾î ±×·¸°Ô ÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀº ºÒ°¡´ÉÇÏ´Ù°í ÀÎÁ¤µÇ¾î Áø´Ù. ´Þ·½¹öÆ®¿Í º¼Å׸£´Â °°Àº ÀǰßÀÌ´Ù.
According to Pagano [19], an Italian aesthetician of the same time, art consists in the uniting into one of the beauties scattered through nature. The ability to see these beauties is taste; the ability to unite them in one whole is artistic genius. Beauty, according to Pagano, merges with the good in such fashion that beauty is the good made manifest, while the good is inner beauty. °°Àº ½Ã´ëÀÇ ÀÌÅ»¸®¾Æ ¹ÌÇÐÀÚ ÆÄ°¡³ë¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ÀÚ¿¬¿¡ µÎ·ç Èð¾îÁ® ÀÖ´Â ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òµéÀ» Çϳª·Î °áÇÕÇÏ´Â °Í¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù°í ÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ·± ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òµéÀ» º¸´Â ´É·ÂÀº ÃëÇâÀÌ´Ù; ±×°ÍµéÀ» ÇϳªÀÇ Àüü·Î ¿«´Â ´É·ÂÀº ¿¹¼úÀû õÀ缺ÀÌ´Ù. ÆÄ°¡³ë¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ ¼±ÇÔ°ú ÇÕÃÄÁö°í,  ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº Ç¥ÇöµÇ¾îÁø ¼±ÇÔÀÌ µÇ´Â °ÍÀ̸ç, ¹Ý¸é¿¡ ¼±ÇÔÀº ³»¸éÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ µÇ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

According to other Italians — Muratori in his Riflessioni sopra il buon gusto intorno le science e le arti, and especially Spaletti in his Saggio sopra la belezza [20] art comes down to an egoistic sensation, based, as in Burke, on the striving for self-preservation and communality.

´Ù¸¥ ÀÌÅ»¸®¾ÆÀε鿡 ÀÇÇÏ¸é — ¹«¶óÅ丮´Â ±×ÀÇ ÀÛǰ Riflessioni sopra il buon gusto intorno le science e le arti¿¡¼­, ±×¸®°í ƯÈ÷ ½ºÆÄ·¹Æ¼´Â ±×ÀÇ ÀÛǰ Saggio sopra la belezza¿¡¼­ — ¿¹¼úÀº À̱âÀûÀÎ °¨°¢À¸·Î ±Í°áµÇ¸ç, ¹öũó·³, Àڱ⠺¸Á¸ ¹× °øµ¿¼ºÀ» Ãß±¸ÇÔ¿¡ ±âÃʸ¦ µÎ°í ÀÖ´Ù.

Among the Dutch, Hemsterhuis, [21] who influenced the German aestheticians and Goethe, is noteworthy. According to his teaching, beauty is that which gives us the greatest pleasure, and that which gives us the greatest pleasure is that which gives us the greatest number of ideas within the shortest time. The pleasure of the beautiful is the highest knowledge to which man can attain, because it gives the greatest number of perceptions in the shortest time.

³×´ú¶õµåÀÎ °¡¿îµ¥¼­, Çð½ºÅÍ·çÀ̽º°¡ ¾ð±ÞÇÒ ¸¸Çϸç, µ¶ÀÏ ¹ÌÇÐÀÚµé°ú ±«¿¡Å׿¡°Ô ¿µÇâÀ» ÁÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§¿¡ µû¸£¸é, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ÃÖ´ëÀÇ Äè¶ôÀ» ÁÖ´Â °ÍÀ̸ç, ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô °¡Àå Å« Äè¶ôÀ» ÁÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ Ãִܽ𣠳»¿¡ °¡Àå ¸¹Àº »ý°¢µéÀ» ÁÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Äè¶ôÀº »ç¶÷ÀÌ ¾òÀ» ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ÃÖ°íÀÇ Áö½ÄÀÌ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀº Ãִܽ𣠳»¿¡ ÃÖ´ëÀÇ ÀνĵéÀ» Áֱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

Such were the theories of aesthetics outside Germany during the last century. In Germany, after Winckelmann, there again appeared a completely new aesthetic theory, that of Kant, which more than all others clarifies the essence of the concept of beauty, and therefore also of art.

ÃÖ±Ù ¹é ³â µ¿¾È µ¶ÀÏ ¹ÛÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀÇ À̷еéÀº ÀÌ·¯Çß´Ù. µ¶ÀÏ¿¡¼­, À®Ä̸¸ ÀÌÈÄ¿¡, ÀüÇô »õ·Î¿î ¹ÌÇÐ ÀÌ·ÐÀÌ µîÀåÇߴµ¥, Ä­Æ®ÀÇ °ÍÀ¸·Î, ÀÌ´Â ´Ù¸¥ ¸ðµç °Íµé º¸´Ù ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀÇ, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¿¹¼úÀÇ, º»ÁúÀ» ¸íÈ®ÇÏ°Ô ÇÑ´Ù.

Kant¡¯s aesthetics is based on the following: man, according to Kant, perceives nature outside himself and himself in nature. In nature outside himself he seeks the true; within himself he seeks the good — the first is a matter of pure reason, and the second of practical reason (freedom). Besides these two means of perception, there is, according to Kant, also the power of judgement (Urteilskraft), which forms judgements without concepts and produces pleasure without desire (Urteil ohne Begriffund Vergnugen ohne Begehren). It is this power which constitutes the basis of the aesthetic sense. And beauty, according to Kant, is in a subjective sense that which, without concepts and without practical benefit, is generally and necessarily pleasing, and in an objective sense is the form of a purposeful object in so far as it is perceived without any notion of its purpose.

Ä­Æ®ÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀº ´ÙÀ½¿¡ ±âÃÊÇϰí ÀÖ´Ù: »ç¶÷Àº, Ä­Æ®¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, Àڱ⠹ۿ¡¼­ ÀÚ¿¬À» Àڱ⸦ ÀÚ¿¬¿¡¼­ ÀνÄÇÑ´Ù. Àڱ⠹ÛÀÇ ÀÚ¿¬¿¡¼­ ±×´Â Áø¸®¸¦ Ãß±¸ÇÑ´Ù; Àڱ⠾ȿ¡¼­ ±×´Â ¼±À» Ãß±¸ÇÑ´Ù — ÀüÀÚ´Â ¼ø¼ö À̼ºÀÇ, ÈÄÀÚ´Â ½Çõ À̼º (ÀÚÀ¯)ÀÇ ¹®Á¦ÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌµé µÎ °¡Áö ÀνÄÀÇ ¼ö´Üµé ¿Ü¿¡, Ä­Æ®¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¶ÇÇÑ ÆÇ´Ü·Â(Urteilskraft)ÀÌ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ÀÌ´Â °³³äµéÀÌ ¾ø´Â ÆÇ´ÜµéÀ» Çü¼ºÇÏ¸ç ¿å¸Á ¾ø´Â Äè¶ô(Urteil ohne Begriffund Vergnugen ohne Begehren)À» ¸¸µé¾î ³½´Ù. ¹ÌÀûÀÎ °¨°¢ÀÇ ±âÃʸ¦ ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¹Ù·Î ÀÌ ÈûÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í Ä­Æ®¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ÁÖ°üÀû Àǹ̷δÂ, °³³äµéÀÌ ¾ø°í ½Ç¿ëÀû ÀÌÀÍÀÌ ¾øÀÌ,  ÀϹÝÀûÀ¸·Î ±×¸®°í ÇÊ¿¬ÀûÀ¸·Î Áñ°Å¿î °ÍÀ̸ç, °´°üÀû Àǹ̷δ Àǵµ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¾î¶² °ü³äÀÌ ¾øÀÌ ÀνĵǴ ÇÑ ÀǵµÀû ´ë»óÀÇ ÇüÅÂÀÌ´Ù.

Beauty is defined in the same way by Kant¡¯s followers, Schiller among them. According to Schiller, who wrote much on aesthetics, the aim of art, as with Kant, is beauty, the source of which is pleasure without practical usefulness. So that art may be called play, though not in the sense of a worthless occupation, but in the sense of a manifestation of the beauty of life itself, which has no other aim than beauty.

¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº Ä­Æ®ÀÇ ÃßÁ¾Àڵ鿡°Ô µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î Á¤ÀǵǸç, ½¯·¯´Â ±×µé¿¡ ¼ÓÇÑ´Ù. ½¯·¯¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ±×´Â ¹ÌÇп¡ ´ëÇÏ¿© ¸¹ÀÌ ½èÀ¸¸ç, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀº, Ä­Æ®ÀÇ °æ¿ìó·³, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ̸ç, ±× ±Ù¿øÀº ½Ç¿ëÀû À¯ÀÍÇÔÀÌ ¾ø´Â Äè¶ôÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ¿¹¼úÀº ¿À¶ôÀ̶ó°í ºÒ¸± °ÍÀ̸ç, ÇÏÁö¸¸ °¡Ä¡ ¾ø´Â Ȱµ¿ÀÇ Àǹ̿¡¼­¶ó ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, »îÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò ÀÚüÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ̶ó´Â Àǹ̿¡¼­À̸ç, »îÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò ¿ÜÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀº °¡ÁöÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù.

Besides Schiller, the most remarkable of Kant¡¯s followers in the field of aesthetics were Jean-Paul and Wilhelm Humboldt, who, while adding nothing to the definition of beauty, clarified its various kinds — drama, music, the comic, etc.

½¯·¯¿Ü¿¡µµ, ¹ÌÇÐ ºÐ¾ß¿¡¼­ Ä­Æ®ÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµé Áß °¡Àå ¶Ù¾î³­ »ç¶÷Àº Àå Æú ¹× ºôÇ︧ Ç躼Ʈ·Î, À̵éÀº, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ ¾Æ¹« °Íµµ ÷°¡ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀº ¹Ý¸é, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ´Ù¾çÇÑ Á¾·ù — µå¶ó¸¶, À½¾Ç, Äڹ̵ð, µî — ¸¦ ºÐ¸íÈ÷ ÇÏ¿´´Ù.

After Kant, besides some second-rate philosophers, Fichte, Schelling, Hegel and their followers wrote on aesthetics. According to Fichte, consciousness of the beautiful arises in the following way. The world — that is, nature — has two sides: it is the product of our limitation, and it is also the product of our free ideal activity. In the first sense, the world is limited, in the second it is free. In the first sense, every body is limited, distorted, compressed, constrained, and we see ugliness; in the second, we see inner fullness, vitality, regeneration — we see beauty. Thus the ugliness or beauty of an object, according to Fichte, depends on the point of view of the contemplator. And that is why beauty is located, not in the world, but in the beautiful soul (schöner Geist). Art, then, is the manifestation of this beautiful soul, and its aim is education, not only of the mind, which is the work of the scholar, not only of the heart, which is the work of the moral preacher, but of the whole man. And therefore the token of beauty is not in anything external, but in the presence of a beautiful soul in the artist.

Ä­Æ® ÈÄ¿¡, ÀϺΠÀÌ·ùÀÇ Ã¶ÇÐÀÚµé ¿Ü¿¡µµ, ÇÇÈ÷Å×, ½©¸µ, Çì°Ö ¹× ±×µéÀÇ ÃßÁ¾Àڵ鵵 ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇØ ½è´Ù. ÇÇÈ÷Å׿¡ µû¸£¸é, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀǽÄÀº ´ÙÀ½°ú °°Àº ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î ÀϾ´Ù: ¼¼»ó — Áï, ÀÚ¿¬ — Àº ¾ç¸éÀ» Áö´Ï°í ÀÖ´Ù: ±×°ÍÀº ¿ì¸® ÇѰèÀÇ »ê¹°ÀÌ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ¶ÇÇÑ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ÀÚÀ¯·Î¿î ÀÌ»óÀû ÇൿÀÇ »ê¹°ÀÌ´Ù. ù° Àǹ̿¡¼­, ¼¼»óÀº Á¦ÇÑÀûÀ̸ç, µÑ° Àǹ̿¡¼­ ±×°ÍÀº ÀÚÀ¯·Ó´Ù. ù° Àǹ̿¡¼­ ¸ðµÎ°¡ Á¦Çѵǰí, ¿Ö°îµÇ°í, ¾ï¾ÐµÇ¸ç, °­¾ÐµÇ¸ç, ¿ì¸®´Â ÃßÇÔÀ» º»´Ù; µÑ°¿¡¼­ ¿ì¸®´Â ³»Àû Ãæ¸¸, »ýµ¿, ¹× Àç»ýÀ» º»´Ù — ¿ì¸®´Â ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» º»´Ù. ±×·¡¼­ ´ë»óÀÇ ÃßÇÔ ¶Ç´Â ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº, ÇÇÈ÷Å׿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, °üÂûÀÚÀÇ °üÁ¡¿¡ ´Þ·ÁÀÖ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×°ÍÀÌ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ, ¼¼»óÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ¿µÈ¥(schöner Geist) ¾È¿¡ ³õ¿© ÀÖ´Â ÀÌÀ¯´Ù. ±×·¸´Ù¸é, ¿¹¼úÀº ÀÌ·± ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ¿µÈ¥ÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ̸ç, ±× ¸ñÀûÀº ±³À°À¸·Î¼­, ÇÐÀÚµéÀÇ ÀÛǰÀÎ Á¤½Å¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼­ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, µµ´ö ¼³±³ÀÚÀÇ ÀÛǰÀÎ ¸¶À½¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼­ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, Àüü »ç¶÷¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Áõ°Å´Â ¾î¶² ¿ÜÀûÀÎ °Í¿¡ ÀÖÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ¿¹¼ú°¡¿¡°Ô ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ¿µÈ¥ÀÇ ½ÇÀç¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù.

Following Fichte, Friedrich Schlegel and Adam Müller defined beauty along the same lines. According to Schlegel, beauty in art is understood too incompletely, one-sidedly and separately; beauty is not only in art, but also in nature, and also in love, so that the truly beautiful is expressed in the union of art, nature and love. Therefore Schlegel recognizes moral and philosophical art as inseparable from aesthetic art.

ÇÇÈ÷Å× ´ÙÀ½À¸·Î, ÇÁ¸®µå¸®È÷ ½¯·¹°Ö°ú ¹Á·¯´Â ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¹æÇâÀ¸·Î Á¤ÀÇÇÏ¿´´Ù. ½¯·¹°Ö¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ³Ê¹«³ª ºÒ¿ÏÀüÇϰÔ, ÇÑÂÊÀ¸·Î Ä¡¿ìÃļ­ ±×¸®°í µ¿¶³¾îÁö°Ô ÀÌÇØµÈ´Ù; ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿¹¼ú¿¡¸¸ ÀÖÁö ¾Ê°í ÀÚ¿¬¿¡µµ, ±×¸®°í »ç¶û¿¡µµ À־, ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿¹¼ú, ÀÚ¿¬ ±×¸®°í »ç¶ûÀÇ °áÇÕÀ¸·Î Ç¥ÇöµÈ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ½¯·¹°ÖÀº µµ´öÀû ¹× öÇÐÀû ¿¹¼úÀ» ¹ÌÇÐÀûÀÎ ¿¹¼ú·ÎºÎÅÍ ¶¼¾î³¾ ¼ö ¾ø´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î ÀνÄÇÑ´Ù.

According to Adam Müller, [22] there are two beauties: one is a social beauty which attracts people as the sun attracts the planets — this is predominantly antique beauty; the other is an individual beauty, which becomes so because he who contemplates it himself becomes a sun that attracts beauty — this is the beauty of the new art. A world in which all contradictions are harmonized is the highest beauty. Every work of art is a repetition of this universal accord. The highest art is the art of life.

¾Æ´ã ¹Á·¯¿¡ µû¸£¸é, µÎ °¡ÁöÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òµéÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù: Çϳª´Â žçÀÌ Ç༺µéÀ» ²ø¾î ´ç±âµíÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀ» ²ø¾î ´ç±â´Â »çȸÀû ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ´Ù — ÀÌ´Â ¾ÐµµÀûÀ¸·Î °í´ëÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ´Ù; ´Ù¸¥ Çϳª´Â °³ÀÎÀû ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ¸·Î, ÀÌ·¸°Ô µÇ´Â ÀÌÀ¯´Â ±×°ÍÀ» °¨»óÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷ ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ²ø¾î ´ç±â´Â žçÀÌ µÇ±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù — À̰ÍÀº »õ·Î¿î ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ´Ù. ¸ðµç ¸ð¼øµéÀÌ Á¶È­¸¦ ÀÌ·ç´Â ¼¼»óÀº ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ´Ù. ¸ðµç ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀº ÀÌ °°Àº º¸ÆíÀû ÀÏÄ¡ÀÇ ¹Ýº¹ÀÌ´Ù. ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº »îÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù.

The next philosopher to have great influence on the aesthetic notions of our time was Schelling, a contemporary of Fichte and his followers. According to Schelling, art is the product or consequence of a world view in which the subject becomes its own object, or the object itself its own subject. Beauty is the representation of the infinite within the finite. And the main character of the work of art is unconscious infinity. Art is the uniting of the subjective with the objective, of nature and reason, of the unconscious with the conscious. And therefore art is the highest means of knowledge. Beauty is the contemplation of things in themselves, as they are in the foundation of all things (in den Urbildern). The beautiful is produced not by the artist, through his own knowledge or will, but by the idea of beauty itself.

¿ì¸® ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀû °ßÇØµé¿¡ Ä¿´Ù¶õ ¿µÇâÀ» ÁÖ´Â ´ÙÀ½ÀÇ Ã¶ÇÐÀÚ´Â ½©¸µÀ¸·Î, ÇÇÈ÷Å×¿Í ±×ÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµé°ú µ¿½Ã´ë ÀÎÀÌ´Ù. ½©¸µ¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿¹¼úÀº ÁÖü°¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °´Ã¼°¡ µÇ°Å³ª, °´Ã¼ ÀÚü°¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ÁÖü°¡ µÇ´Â ¼¼°èÀÇ ½Ã°¢ÀÇ »ê¹° ¶Ç´Â °á°úÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº À¯ÇÑÇÔ ¾ÈÀÇ ¹«ÇÑÇÔÀÇ Ç¥ÃâÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀÇ ÁÖµÈ ¼º°ÝÀº ÀǽÄÇÏÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â ¹«ÇѼºÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀº ÀÚ¿¬°ú À̼ºÀÇ ÁÖ°ü¼ºÀ» °´°ü¼ºÀ¸·Î, ¹«ÀǽÄÀ» ÀǽÄÀ¸·Î °áÇÕÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¿¹¼úÀº Áö½ÄÀÇ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¼ö´ÜÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº »ç¹°µéÀ» ±× ÀÚüµé·Î °¨»óÇÔÀ̸ç, ±×°ÍµéÀº ¸¸¹°ÀÇ ±âÃÊ ¾È¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù (in den Urbildern). ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿¹¼ú°¡¿¡ ÀÇÇØ, ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ Áö½Ä ¶Ç´Â ÀÇÁö¸¦ ÅëÇØ¼­°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò ÀÚü¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °³³ä¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ ¸¸µé¾î Áø´Ù.

Among Schelling¡¯s followers the most notable was Solger with his Vorlesungen über Ästhetik. [23] According to Solger, the idea of beauty is the principal idea of any thing. In the world we see only the perversion of the principal idea, but art, through imagination, may rise to the height of the principal idea. And therefore art is the likeness of creation.

½©¸µÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµé Áß¿¡¼­ °¡Àå ÁÖ¸ñÇÒ ¸¸ »ç¶÷Àº Vorlesungen über Ästhetik¸¦ ÁöÀº ¼Ö°ÅÀÌ´Ù. ¼Ö°Å¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀº ¸ðµç °ÍÀÇ Á¦ÀÏ °³³äÀÌ´Ù. ¼¼»ó¿¡¼­ ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ Á¦ÀÏ °³³äÀÇ ¿Ö°î¸¸À» º¼ »ÓÀÌÁö¸¸, ¿¹¼úÀº, »ó»óÀ» ÅëÇÏ¿©, Á¦ÀÏ °³³äÀÇ ³ôÀÌ¿¡ À̸¦ ¼ö ÀÖ°Ô ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¿¹¼úÀº âÁ¶¿Í ºñ½ÁÇÏ´Ù.

According to another of Schelling¡¯s followers, Krause, [24] true and real beauty is the manifestation of the idea in an individual form; and art is the realization of beauty in the realm of the free human spirit. The highest stage of art is the art of life, which directs its activity to the adornment of life, so as to make it a beautiful place for the beautiful man to live.

½©¸µÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµé Áß ¶Ç ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÎ Å©¶ó¿ì½º¿¡ µû¸£¸é, Áø½ÇµÇ¸ç »ç½ÇÀûÀÎ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº °³ÀÎÀû ÇüÅ ¾È¿¡¼­ °³³äÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀÌ´Ù; ±×¸®°í ¿¹¼úÀº ÀÚÀ¯·Î¿î Àΰ£ Á¤½ÅÀÇ ¿µ¿ª ¾È¿¡¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ½ÇÇöÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÃÖ°íÀÇ °æÁö´Â »îÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀ̸ç, À̰ÍÀº ±× Ȱµ¿¼ºÀ» »îÀÇ Àå½ÄÀ¸·Î ÇâÇÏ°Ô Çϸç, ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© À̰÷ÀÌ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î »ç¶÷ÀÌ »ì±â À§ÇÑ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î °÷À¸·Î ¸¸µå´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

After Schelling and his followers comes the new aesthetic teaching of Hegel, still held to this day, consciously by many, unconsciously by most. This teaching is not only no clearer or more definite than the preceding ones, but is, if such were possible, still more foggy and mystical.

½©¸µ ¹× ±×ÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµé ÈÄ¿¡ Çì°ÖÀÇ »õ·Î¿î ¹ÌÇÐÀû °¡¸£Ä§ÀÌ ³ª¿À´Âµ¥, ¿À´Ã³¯µµ ÀǽÄÀûÀ¸·Ð ¸¹Àº »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ, ¹«ÀǽÄÀûÀ¸·Ð ´ëºÎºÐ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ, ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ÁöÁöµÇ°í ÀÖ´Ù. ÀÌ °¡¸£Ä§Àº ÀÌÀüÀÇ °Íµé¿¡ ºñÇØ ´õ¿í ¸í·áÇϰųª È®½ÇÇÏÁöµµ ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×·¯ÇÔÀÌ °¡´ÉÇÏ´Ù ÇÏ´õ¶óµµ, ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ¸·¿¬ÇÏ¸ç ¸ðÈ£ÇÏ´Ù.

According to Hegel, God manifests himself in nature and art in the form of beauty. God expresses himself in two ways: in the object and in the subject, in nature and in spirit. Beauty is the idea shining through matter. Only the spirit, and all that partakes of the spirit, is truly beautiful, and therefore the beauty of nature is merely a reflection of the beauty proper to the spirit: the beautiful has only spiritual content. But the spiritual must manifest itself in a sensuous form. Yet the sensuous manifestation of the spirit is merely an appearance (Schein). This appearance is the sole reality of the beautiful. Art, then, is the realization of this appearance of the idea, and is a means, together with religion and philosophy, of bringing to consciousness and giving utterance to the profoundest tasks of men and the highest truths of the spirit.

Çì°Ö¿¡ µû¸£¸é, ½ÅÀÌ ÀÚ¿¬°ú ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ̶ó´Â ¸ð½ÀÀ¸·Î ½º½º·Î µå·¯³½´Ù. ½ÅÀº µÎ °¡Áö ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î ÀÚ½ÅÀ» µå·¯³½´Ù: °´Ã¼¿¡¼­ ±×¸®°í ÁÖü¿¡¼­, ÀÚ¿¬¿¡¼­ ±×¸®°í Á¤½Å¿¡¼­. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¹°ÁúÀ» ÅëÇØ ºû³ª´Â °³³äÀÌ´Ù.¿ÀÁ÷ Á¤½Å¸¸ÀÌ, ±×¸®°í Á¤½ÅÀ» °øÀ¯ÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀº ÁøÁ¤À¸·Î ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ì¸ç, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ÀÚ¿¬ÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ´Ü¼øÈ÷ Á¤½Å¿¡ ÀûÇÕÇÑ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ¹Ý¿µÀÏ »ÓÀÌ´Ù: ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ Á¤½ÅÀûÀÎ ³»¿ëÀ» Áö´Ñ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ Á¤½ÅÀûÀÎ °ÍÀº ¹Ýµå½Ã °ü´ÉÀûÀÎ ÇüÅ·ΠÀÚ½ÅÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯¸é¼­µµ Á¤½ÅÀÇ °ü´ÉÀû Ç¥ÇöÀº ´ÜÁö ¿Ü¾ç(Schein)ÀÏ »ÓÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ ¿Ü¾çÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ À¯ÀÏÇÑ ½ÇüÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀº, ±×·¸´Ù¸é, °³³ä¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ·± ¿Ü¾çÀÇ ½ÇÇöÀ̸ç, Á¾±³ ¹× öÇаú ´õºÒ¾î, ÀǽÄÀ¸·Î ´Ù°¡°¨ ¹× »ç¶÷ÀÇ °¡Àå ½É¿ÀÇÑ °úÁ¦µé ¹× Á¤½ÅÀÇ ÃÖ°íÀÇ Áø¸®µéÀ» ¹ñ¾î³¿ÀÇ ¼ö´ÜÀÌ´Ù.

Truth and beauty, according to Hegel, are the same. The only difference is that truth is the idea in itself, as it exists in itself and is thinkable, while the idea expressed externally becomes, for consciousness, not only true but also beautiful. The beautiful is the manifestation of the idea.

Áø¸® ¹× ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº, Çì°Ö¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, µ¿ÀÏÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. À¯ÀÏÇÑ Â÷ÀÌ´Â Áø¸®´Â, ±× ÀÚü·Î Á¸ÀçÇÏ¸ç »ý°¢µÉ ¼ö Àֱ⿡, ±× ÀÚü·Î¼­ °³³äÀ̸ç,  ¹Ý¸é¿¡ ¿ÜÀûÀ¸·Î Ç¥ÇöµÈ °³³äÀº, ÀνÄÀ» À§ÇÏ¿©, ÂüµÇ¾î Áú »Ó ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿öÁø´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº °³³äÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀÌ´Ù.

After Hegel came his many followers: Weisse, Arnold Ruge, Rosenkrantz, Theodor Vischer, [25] and others.

Çì°Ö¿¡ µÚÀÌ¾î ±×ÀÇ ¸¹Àº ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµéÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù: ¹ÙÀ̽º, ¾Æ³îµå ·çÁî, ·Î·»Å©¶õÆ®, Å׿Àµµ¸£ ºñ¼Å µîÀÌ´Ù.

According to Weisse, art is the introduction (Einbildung) of the absolute spiritual essence of beauty into external, dead and indifferent matter, understood, apart from the beauty introduced into it, as the negation of any existence in itself (Negation alles Fürsichseins).

¹ÙÀ̽º¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿¹¼úÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Àý´ëÀû ¿µÀû Á¤¼ö¸¦ ¿ÜÀûÀ̸ç Á×¾îÀÖ°í ¹«°¨°¢ÇÑ ¹°Áú¿¡ ÁÖÀÔÇÔÀ̸ç, ±×°Í ¾È¿¡ ÁÖÀԵǴ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú´Â º°°³·Î, ±× ÀÚü ¾È¿¡¼­ ¾î¶² Á¸ÀçÀÇ ºÎÁ¤À¸·Î ÀÌÇØµÇ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù (Negation alles Fürsichseins).

In the idea of truth, says Weisse, there lies a contradiction between the subjective and the objective sides of knowledge, in that the singular I perceives the All. This contradiction can be removed by means of a concept that would unite into one the moments of allness and oneness, which fall into two in the concept of truth. This concept would be a reconciled (aufgehoben) truth — and beauty is such a reconciled truth.

¹ÙÀ̽º´Â ¸»Çϱ⸦, Áø¸®ÀÇ °³³ä ¾È¿¡´Â Áø¸®ÀÇ ÁÖ°üÀû ¹× °´°üÀû Ãø¸éµé »çÀÌÀÇ ¸ð¼øÀÌ ³õ¿© ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±× ¾È¿¡¼­ ´Ü¼öÀÇ ³»°¡ ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ÀÎÁöÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ ¸ð¼øÀº Àüü¼º ¹× ´ÜÀϼºÀÇ ÇÑ ¼ø°£µé·Î °áÇÕÇØ ³ª°¡´Â °³³ä¿¡ ÀÇÇÏ¿© Á¦°ÅµÉ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, À̰ÍÀº Áø¸®ÀÇ °³³ä ¾È¿¡¼­ µÑ·Î ³ª´©¾î Áø´Ù. ÀÌ °³³äÀº ÀÏÁ¾ÀÇ ÀýÃæµÈ Áø¸®ÀÏ °ÍÀÌ´Ù - ±×¸®°í ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ±×¿Í °°Àº ÀýÃæµÈ Áø¸®ÀÌ´Ù.

According to Ruge, a strict Hegelian, beauty is the self-expressing idea. The spirit, as it contemplates itself, finds itself expressed either fully — and then this full self-expression is beauty — or not fully — and then the need arises in it to change its imperfect expression, in which event spirit becomes creative art.

¾ö°ÝÇÑ Çì°ÖÁÖÀÇÀÚÀÎ, ·çÁî¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ÀÚ½ÅÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÏ´Â °³³äÀÌ´Ù. Á¤½ÅÀº, ½º½º·Î¸¦ ÁÖ½ÃÇϸ鼭 ¿ÏÀüÇÏ°Ô — ÀÌ °æ¿ì ÀÌ·± ¿ÏÀüÇÑ ÀÚ±â Ç¥ÇöÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ´Ù — ¶Ç´Â ¿ÏÀüÇÏÁö ¾Ê°Ô — ÀÌ °æ¿ì ±× ¾È¿¡¼­ ºÒ¿ÏÀüÇÑ Ç¥ÇöÀ» ¹Ù²Ù°íÀÚ ÇÏ´Â Çʿ伺ÀÌ »ý°Ü³ª¸ç, ÀÌ °æ¿ì Á¤½ÅÀº âÀÇÀûÀÎ ¿¹¼ú·Î µÈ´Ù — Ç¥ÇöµÇ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

According to Vischer, beauty is the idea in the form of a limited manifestation. The idea itself is not indivisible, but constitutes a system of ideas which are represented by ascending and descending lines. The higher the idea, the more beauty it contains, but even the lowest contains beauty, because it constitutes a necessary link in the system. The highest form of the idea is the person, and therefore the highest art is that which has the highest person for its subject.

ºñ¼Å¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ÀÏÁ¾ÀÇ Á¦ÇÑÀû Ç¥ÇöÀÇ ¸ð½ÀÀ» ÇÑ °³³äÀÌ´Ù. °³³ä ÀÚü´Â ³ª´­ ¼ö ¾øÁö¸¸ »óÇâ ¹× ÇÏÇâ ¼±µé·Î ´ëÇ¥µÇ´Â °³³äµéÀÇ Ã¼°è¸¦ ±¸¼ºÇÑ´Ù. °³³äÀÌ °í»óÇÒ ¼ö·Ï ´õ ¸¹Àº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» Áö´Ñ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ½ÉÁö¾î ÃÖ¾ÇÀÌ´õ¶óµµ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» Æ÷ÇÔÇÑ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀÌ Ã¼°èÀûÀ¸·Î ÇÊ¿äÇÑ ¿¬°áÀ» ±¸¼ºÇϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. °¡Àå °í»óÇÑ ÇüÅÂÀÇ °³³äÀº ÀΰÝÀÌ´Ù, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î °¡Àå °í»óÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀº ±× ÁÖÁ¦¿¡ ÇÕ´çÇÑ °¡Àå °í»óÇÑ ÀΰÝÀ» Áö´Ï´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

Such are the German theories of aesthetics of the Hegelian tendency only; but aesthetic discussions are not thereby exhausted: alongside Hegelian theories, there appeared simultaneously in Germany theories of beauty which not only do not recognize Hegel¡¯s propositions about beauty as the manifestation of the idea, and art as the expression of this idea, but which are directly opposed to such a view, deny it, and laugh at it. Such are the theories of Herbart [26] and, particularly, of Schopenhauer.

ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ °ÍµéÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ Çì°Ö ÇÐÆÄÀÇ °æÇâÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐ À̷еéÀÌ´Ù; ±×·¯³ª ¹ÌÇÐÀûÀÎ ³íÀǵéÀº ¿©±â¼­ ±×Ä¡Áö ¾Ê´Â´Ù: Çì°Ö ÆÄÀÇ À̷еé°ú º´ÇàÇÏ¿©, °³³äÀÇ Ç¥»óÀ¸·Î¼­ÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò, ±×¸®°í ÀÌ·± °³³äÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ¸·Î¼­ÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Çì°ÖÀÇ ¸íÁ¦µéÀ» ÀÎÁ¤ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×·± °üÁ¡¿¡ Á¤¸éÀ¸·Î ¹Ý´ëµÇ¸ç, ±×°ÍÀ» ºÎÁ¤Çϰí, Á¶·ÕÇÏ´Â À̷еéÀÌ µ¿½Ã¿¡ µ¶ÀÏ¿¡¼­ µîÀåÇÏ¿´´Ù. ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ °ÍµéÀº Ç츣¹ÙÆ®, ƯÈ÷, ¼îÆæÇÏ¿ì¾îÀÇ À̷еéÀÌ´Ù.

According to Herbart, beauty does not and cannot exist in itself; what exists is only our judgement, and it is necessary to find the principles of this judgement (ästhetisches Elementarurteil). These principles of judgement are related to impressions. There exist certain relations which we call beautiful, and art consists in finding these relations — simultaneous in painting, plastic art and architecture; both successive and simultaneous in music; and successive alone in poetry. In opposition to the previous aestheticians, Herbart holds that beautiful objects often express nothing at all — a rainbow, for example, which is beautiful owing to its line and colours, and by no means with regard to its mythical significance as Iris or the rainbow of Noah.

Ç츣¹ÙÆ®¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ±× ÀÚü·Î¼­ Á¸ÀçÇϰųª Á¸ÀçÇÒ ¼öµµ ¾ø´Ù; Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ÆÇ´ÜÀ̸ç, ÀÌ·± ÆÇ´ÜÀÇ ¿ø¸®µéÀ» ¹ß°ßÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÏ´Ù (ästhetisches Elementarurteil). ÀÌ¿Í °°Àº ÆÇ´ÜÀÇ ¿ø¸®µéÀº Àλóµé¿¡ °ü°èµÇ¾î ÀÖ´Ù.¿ì¸®°¡ ¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù°í ºÎ¸£´Â ƯÁ¤ÇÑ °ü°èµéÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ¿¹¼úÀº ÀÌ·± °ü°èµé — ¹Ì¼ú, Á¶Çü ¿¹¼ú ¹× °ÇÃà¿¡¼­´Â µ¿½ÃÀûÀÎ; À½¾Ç¿¡¼­´Â ¿¬¼ÓÀûÀÌ¸ç µ¿½ÃÀûÀÎ; ±×¸®°í ½Ã¿¡¼­´Â ´ÜÁö ¿¬¼ÓÀûÀÎ — À» ¹ß°ßÇÔ¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù. ÀÌÀüÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀڵ鿡 ¹Ý´ëÇϸ鼭, Ç츣¹ÙÆ®´Â ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ¹°Ã¼µéÀº ¶§¶§·Î ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ Ç¥ÇöÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù°í ÁÖÀåÇÑ´Ù — ¹«Áö°³´Â, ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ±× ¼±°ú »ö»óµé ¶§¹®¿¡ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ì¸ç, ±×¸®°í °áÄÚ ¾ÆÀ̸®½º ¶Ç´Â ³ë¾ÆÀÇ ¹«Áö°³Ã³·³ ½ÅÈ­Àû ÀÇ¹Ì¿Í °ü·ÃÇØ¼­°¡ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù.

Another opponent of Hegel was Schopenhauer, who denied the entire system of Hegel, including his aesthetics.

Çì°ÖÀÇ ´Ù¸¥ ¹Ý´ëÀÚ´Â ¼îÆæÇÏ¿ì¾î¿´À¸¸ç, ±×´Â Çì°ÖÀÇ Àüü ½Ã½ºÅÛÀ», ±×ÀÇ ¹ÌÇаú ÇÔ²², ºÎÁ¤ÇÏ¿´´Ù.

According to Schopenhauer, the will is objectivized in the world on various levels, and the higher the level of its objectivization, the more beautiful it is — each level having its own beauty. Abstraction from our own individuality and contemplation of one of these levels of the manifestation of will gives us the consciousness of beauty. All men, according to Schopenhauer, possess the ability to perceive this idea on its different levels and thereby to be liberated for a time from their person. The artistic genius has this ability in the highest degree, and therefore manifests the highest beauty.

¼îÆæÇÏ¿ì¾î¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ÀÇÁö°¡ ´Ù¾çÇÑ ¼öÁص鿡¼­ ¼¼»ó¿¡ °´°üÈ­µÇ¸ç, °´°üÈ­°¡ ³ôÀº ¼öÁØÀϼö·Ï, ±×°ÍÀº — °¢±â ´Ü°è´Â ±× ÀÚüÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» Áö´Ï¸é¼­ — ´õ ¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù. ¿ì¸® ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °³Ã¼¼ºÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ Ãß»óÈ­ ±×¸®°í ÀÇÁöÀÇ Ç¥Çö¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ·± ´Ü°èµé ÁßÀÇ Çϳª¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °¨»óÀº ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀǽÄÀ» ºÎ¿©ÇÑ´Ù. ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀº, ¼ÒÆæÇÏ¿ì¾î¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, »óÀÌÇÑ ´Ü°èµé¿¡ °üÇÑ ÀÌ·± °³³äÀ» ÀÎÁöÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ±×·³À¸·Î½á ±×µéÀÇ ÀΰÝÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ Àá½Ã³ª¸¶ ÇØ¹æµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ´É·ÂÀ» ¼ÒÀ¯ÇÑ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀû õÀç´Â ÀÌ·± ´É·ÂÀ» ÃÖ°íµµÀÇ Áö´Ñ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÑ´Ù.

After these more prominent figures there come less original German writers, who excercised less influence, such as Hartmann, Kirchmann, Schnasse, Helmholtz to some extent, Bergmann, Jungmann [27] and a numberless host of others.

Á»´õ ƯÃâÇÑ À̵é Àι°µé ´ÙÀ½À¸·Î ´ú µ¶Ã¢ÀûÀÎ µ¶ÀÏ ÀÛ°¡µéÀÌ, ±×µéÀº ´úÇÑ ¿µÇâÀ» Çà»çÇÏ¿´´Âµ¥, ÇÏÆ®¸¸, ۸£½¬¸¸, ½¬³ª½º, ÇðȦÃ÷ µîÀÌ ¾î¶²¸é¿¡¼­ ±×·¯Çϸç, º£¸£±×¸¸, À¶¸¸ ¹× ±âŸÀÇ ¼ö¸¹Àº ¹«¸®µéÀÌ ³ªÅ¸³­´Ù.

According to Hartmann, beauty is not in the external world, not in the thing in itself, nor in the soul of man, but in the semblance (Schein) produced by the artist. A thing is not beautiful in itself, but the artist transforms it into beauty.

ÇÏÆ®¸¸¿¡ µû¸£¸é, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿ÜÀûÀÎ ¼¼»ó¿¡ ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó »ç¹° ÀÚü¿¡ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, »ç¶÷ÀÇ ¿µÈ¥ ¾ÈÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ¿¹¼ú°¡°¡ ¸¸µé¾î³½ À¯»çǰ (Schein)¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù. »ç¹°Àº ±× ÀÚü·Î¼­ ¾Æ¸§´äÁö ¾Ê´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¿¹¼ú°¡°¡ ±×°ÍÀ» ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ¸·Î º¯¸ð½ÃŲ´Ù.

According to Schnasse, there is no beauty in the world. In nature there is only an approximation of it. Art gives what nature cannot give. Beauty is manifested in the activity of the free I, conscious of a harmony that is not in nature.

½¬³ª½º¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¼¼»ó¿¡ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¾ø´Ù. ÀÚ¿¬¿¡´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×°Í¿¡ ±ÙÁ¢ÇÑ °ÍÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀº ÀÚ¿¬ÀÌ ÁÙ ¼ö ¾ø´Â °ÍÀ» ÁØ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ÀÚÀ¯·Î¿î, ÀÚ¿¬¿¡ ÀÖÁö ¾ÊÀº Á¶È­¸¦ ÀνÄÇÏ´Â, ³ªÀÇ È°µ¿ ¾È¿¡¼­ Ç¥ÃâµÈ´Ù.
Kirchmann wrote on practical aesthetics. According to Kirch¡©mann, there are six realms of history: the realms of (1) knowledge, (2) wealth, (3) morality, (4) religion, (5) politics and (6) beauty. Activity within this last realm is art. ۸£½¬¸¸Àº ½Ç¿ëÀû ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇØ ½è´Ù. ۸£½¬¸¸¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿ª»ç¿¡´Â ¿©¼¸°¡Áö ¿µ¿ªµéÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù: (1) Áö½Ä, (2) ºÎ, (3) µµ´ö, (4) Á¾±³, (5) Á¤Ä¡ ¹× (6) ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ¿µ¿ªµéÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ ¸¶Áö¸· ¿µ¿ªÀÇ È°µ¿ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù.
According to Helmholtz, who wrote on beauty in relation to music, beauty in a musical work is invariably attained only by following laws — but these laws are unknown to the artist, and therefore beauty is manifested in the artist unconsciously and cannot be subjected to analysis. Çðº¼Ã÷¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ±×´Â À½¾Ç°ú °ü·ÃÇÑ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ½è´Âµ¥, À½¾Ç ÀÛǰ¿¡¼­ÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿©Áö¾øÀÌ ¿ÀÁ÷ ´ÙÀ½°ú °°Àº ¹ýÄ¢¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ ¼ºÃëµÈ´Ù  — ÇÏÁö¸¸ ÀÌ·± ¹ýÄ¢µéÀº ¿¹¼ú°¡¿¡°Ô ¾Ë·ÁÁ® ÀÖÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿¹¼ú°¡ ¾È¿¡¼­ ¹«ÀǽÄÀûÀ¸·Î Ç¥ÃâµÇ¸ç ºÐ¼®ÀÇ ´ë»óÀÌ µÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù.
According to Bergmann in his Über das Schöne, beauty cannot be defined objectively; beauty is perceived subjectively, and therefore the task of aesthetics is to determine what is pleasing to whom. º£¸£±×¸¸¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ±×ÀÇ ÀÛǰ Über das Schöne¿¡¼­, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº °´°üÀûÀ¸·Î Á¤ÀÇµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù; ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ÁÖ°üÀûÀ¸·Î ÀνĵȴÙ, ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¹ÌÇÐÀÇ °úÁ¦´Â ´©±¸¿¡°Ô Áñ°Å¿î °ÍÀ» °áÁ¤ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
According to Jungmann, beauty is first of all a supersensory quality; secondly, beauty produces pleasure in us through contemplation alone; thirdly, beauty is the basis of love. À¶¸¸¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ Ãʰ¨°¢Àû ¼ºÁúÀÌ´Ù; µÑ°·Î, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ °¨»óÀ» ÅëÇØ¼­ ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô Äè¶ôÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ÁØ´Ù; ¼Â°·Î, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº »ç¶ûÀÇ ±âÃÊÀÌ´Ù.

In recent times, the aesthetic theories of the French, the English and other nations have been represented mainly by the following:

±Ù´ë¿¡ À־, ÇÁ¶û½º, ¿µ±¹ ¹× ±âŸ ±¹°¡µéÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀû À̷еéÀº ÁÖ·Î ´ÙÀ½°ú °°ÀÌ ´ëÇ¥µÇ¾ú´Ù:

In France, the promirient writers on aesthetics have been Cousin, Jouffroy, Pictet, Ravaisson, [28] and Lévêque.

ÇÁ¶û½º¿¡¼­ ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇÑ Æ¯ÃâÇÑ ÀÛ°¡µéÀº Äí¼Ä, ÁÖÇÁ·ÎÀÌ, ÇÇÅ×, ¶óº£¼Û ¹× ·¹º£Å©¿´´Ù.

Cousin was an eclectic and a follower of the German idealists. According to his theory, beauty always has a moral basis. Cousin refutes the proposition that art is imitation, and that the beautiful is that which is pleasing. He maintains that beauty can be defined in itself and that its essence consists in diversity and unity.

Äí¼ÄÀº ÀýÃæÁÖÀÇÀÚ ¹× µ¶ÀÏ °ü³ä·ÐÀÚµéÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚ¿´´Ù. ±×ÀÇ À̷п¡ µû¸£¸é, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¾ðÁ¦³ª µµ´öÀû Åä´ë¸¦ Áö´Ñ´Ù. Äí¼ÄÀº ¿¹¼úÀº ¸ð¹æÀ̶ó´Â °Í, ±×¸®°í ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº Áñ°Å¿î °ÍÀ̶ó´Â ÁÖÀåÀ» ¹Ý¹ÚÇÑ´Ù. ±×´Â ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ±× ÀÚü·Î¼­ Á¤ÀÇµÉ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ±× º»ÁúÀº ´Ù¾ç¼º ¹× ÅëÀϼº¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù°í ÁÖÀåÇÑ´Ù.

After Cousin, Jouffroy wrote on aesthetics. Jouffroy, too, was a follower of the German aestheticians, and a disciple of Cousin. In his definition, beauty is the expression of the invisible by means of natural tokens which make it manifest. The visible world is the clothing by means of which we see beauty.

Äí¼Ä µÚ¿¡, ÁÖÇÁ·ÎÀ̰¡ ¹ÌÇп¡ ´ëÇØ ½è´Ù: ÁÖÇÁ·ÎÀÌ ¿ª½Ã µ¶ÀÏ ¹ÌÇÐÀÚµéÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚ¸ç Äí¼ÄÀÇ Á¦ÀÚ¿´´Ù. ±×ÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡¼­, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ½º½º·Î µå·¯³ª°Ô ÇÏ´Â ÀÚ¿¬Àû ¡ǥµéÀ» ÀÌ¿ëÇÑ º¸ÀÌÁö ¾Ê´Â °ÍÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀÌ´Ù. º¸ÀÌÁö ¾Ê´Â ¼¼»óÀº ±×°ÍÀ¸·Î ¿ì¸®°¡ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» º¸´Â  ÀÇ»óÀÌ´Ù.

The Swiss writer Pictet repeated Hegel and Plato, supposing beauty to consist in the immediate and free manifestation of the divine idea, which manifests itself in sensuous images.

½ºÀ§½º ÀÛ°¡ ÇÇÅ×´Â Çì°Ö°ú ÇöóÅæÀ» ¸ð¹æÇÏ¿´°í, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ½ÅÀûÀÎ °³³äÀÇ Áï°¢ÀûÀ̸ç ÀÚÀ¯·Î¿î Ç¥Çö¿¡ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ÀÌ´Â °ü´ÉÀûÀÎ ¿µ»óµé·Î ³ªÅ¸³­´Ù°í ÁÖÀåÇÏ¿´´Ù.

Lévêque was a follower of Schelling and Hegel. According to him, beauty is something invisible concealed in nature. Power of spirit is the manifestation of ordered energy.

·¹º£Å©´Â ½©¸µ°ú Çì°ÖÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚ¿´´Ù. ±×¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ÀÚ¿¬¿¡ ¼û°ÜÁø º¸ÀÌÁö ¾Ê´Â ¾î¶² °ÍÀÌ´Ù. Á¤½ÅÀÇ ÈûÀº Áú¼­¸¦ °®Ãá ÈûÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀÌ´Ù.

Similarly indefinite were the opinions on the essence of beauty expressed by the French metaphysician Ravaisson: ¡®La beauté la plus divine et principalement la plus parfaite — contient le secret.¡¯ In his opinion, beauty is the aim of the world: ¡®Le monde entier est l¡¯oeuvre d¡¯une beauté absolue, qui n¡¯est la cause des choses que par l¡¯amour qu¡¯elle met en elles.¡¯ [29]

À¯»çÇÏ°Ô ºÒÈ®½ÇÇÑ °ÍÀº ÇÁ¶û½º ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀÚ ¶óº£¼Û¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Ç¥ÇöµÈ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ º»Áú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀǰߵéÀ̾ú´Ù: °¡Àå ½ÅÀûÀÌ¸ç ±Ùº»ÀûÀ¸·Î °¡Àå ¿Ïº®ÇÑ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ºñ¹ÐÀ» Áö´Ñ´Ù. ±×ÀÇ Àǰ߿¡¼­, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¼¼»óÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀÌ´Ù: Àüü ¼¼»óÀº ÇϳªÀÇ Àý´ëÀû ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ÀÛǰÀ̸ç, À̰ÍÀº »ç¹°µéÀÇ ¿øÀÎÀ¸·Î ¿ÀÁ÷ »ç¶ûÀ» ÅëÇØ ±×µé ¾È¿¡ ³õÀδÙ.

I have purposely left these metaphysical expressions untranslated because, foggy though the Germans may be, the French, once they have read the Germans and begun to imitate them, surpass them by far, putting together concepts of various sorts and substituting one for another without discrimination. So the French philosopher Renouvier, also discussing beauty, says: ¡®Ne craignons pas de dire qu¡¯une verité qui ne serait pas belle, n¡¯est qu¡¯unjeu logique de notre esprit et que la seule verité solide et digne de ce mm c¡¯est la beauté.¡¯ [30]

³ª´Â ÀǵµÀûÀ¸·Î À̵é ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀûÀΠǥÇöµéÀ» ¹ø¿ªÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé, ºñ·Ï µ¶ÀÏÀεéÀÌ ¸ðÈ£ÇÏÁö¸¸, ÇÁ¶û½ºÀεéÀº, ÀÏ´Ü µ¶ÀÏÀεéÀÇ °ÍÀ» ÀÐ°í¼­ ±×°ÍµéÀ» Èä³»³»±â ½ÃÀÛÇϸé, ±×µéÀ» ÈξÀ ´É°¡Çϸç, ´Ù¾çÇÑ Á¾·ùÀÇ °³³äµéÀ» ²ø¾î ¸ð¾Æ¼­ ÀÌ°Í Àú°Í ºÐº° ¾øÀÌ ¹Ù²Ù±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¡¼­ ÇÁ¶û½º öÇÐÀÚ ¸£´©ºñ¿¡´Â ¿ª½Ã ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ³íÇϸ鼭 ¸»ÇÑ´Ù: '¾Æ¸§´äÁö ¾ÊÀº Áø¸®´Â ´ÜÁö ¸¶À½ÀÇ ³í¸®Àû °ÔÀÓÀ̶ó´Â °Í, ±×¸®°í °ß°íÇÏ¸ç ±× À̸§ÀÇ °¡Ä¡°¡ ÀÖ´Â À¯ÀÏÇÑ Áø¸® ¸¸ÀÌ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ̶ó°í ¸»Çϱ⸦ µÎ·Á¿öÇÏÁö ¸»ÀÚ.'

Besides these idealistic aestheticians, who wrote and still write under the influence of German philosophy, in France recently Taine, Guyau, Cherbuliez, Coster [31] and Veron have influenced the understanding of art and beauty.

µ¶ÀÏ Ã¶ÇÐÀÇ ¿µÇ⠾Ʒ¡¼­ ±ÛÀ» ½è°Å³ª ¾ÆÁ÷µµ ¾²´Â À̵é ÀÌ»óÁÖÀÇÀû ¹ÌÇÐÀÚµé ¿Ü¿¡µµ, ÇÁ¶û½º¿¡¼­´Â ÃÖ±Ù Å×´À, ±¸¾ß, ½¦ºÒ¸®¿¡, ÄÚ½ºÅÍ ¹× º£·ÐÀÌ ¿¹¼ú ¹× ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ÀÌÇØ¿¡ ¿µÇâÀ» ¹ÌÃÆ´Ù.

According to Taine, beauty is the manifestation of the essential character of some significant idea, more perfect than that in which it is expressed in reality.

Å×´À¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¾î¶² Áß¿äÇÑ, Çö½Ç¿¡¼­ Ç¥ÇöµÇ´Â °Íº¸´Ù ´õ ¿ÏÀüÇÑ, °³³ä¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÇÙ½ÉÀû Ư¼ºÀÇ Ç¥ÃâÀÌ´Ù.

According to Guyau, beauty is not anything foreign to the object itself, is not some parasitic growth on it, but is the very blossoming of that being in which it is manifest. Art is the expression of life, reasonable and conscious, which evokes in us, on the one hand, the deepest sensations of existence, and, on the other hand, the loftiest feelings, the most exalted thoughts. Art raises man from his personal life into universal life not only by means of participation in the same ideas and beliefs, but also by means of the same feelings.

±¸¾ß¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé,¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ±× ´ë»ó ÀÚü¿¡ ÀÌÁúÀûÀÎ ¾î¶² °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¸ç, ±×°Í¿¡ ±â»ýÇÏ¿© ÀÚ¶ó´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×°ÍÀÌ ³ªÅ¸³»¾î Áö´Â ±×·± Á¸Àç ÀÚü°¡ ÇǾÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀº »îÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ̰í, À̼ºÀûÀ̸ç ÀǽÄÀûÀ̸ç, ¿ì¸® ¾È¿¡¼­ ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î Á¸Àç¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °¡Àå ±íÀº °¨°¢µéÀ̸ç, ´Ù¸¥ ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î, °¡Àå ¼þ°íÇÑ ´À³¦µé, °¡Àå °í¾çµÈ »ç»óµéÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀº »ç¶÷À»  µ¿ÀÏÇÑ °³³äµé ¹× ½Å³äµé¿¡ Âü¿©ÇÔ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ´À³¦µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ ±×ÀÇ °³ÀÎÀû »î¿¡¼­ º¸ÆíÀû »îÀ¸·Î ÀÏÀ¸ÄÑ ¼¼¿î´Ù.

According to Cherbuliez, art is an activity which (1) satisfies our innate love of images (appearances); (2) introduces ideas into these images; and (3) gives pleasure simultaneously to our senses, heart and reason. Beauty, according to Cherbuliez, is not a property of objects, but is an act of our soul. Beauty is an illusion. There is no absolute beauty, but we think beautiful that which we think is characteristic and harmonious.

½¦ºÒ¸®¿¡¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿¹¼úÀº (1) Çü»ó(¿Ü¾ç)µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¼±ÃµÀû »ç¶ûÀ» ¸¸Á·½Ã۸ç; (2)°³³äµéÀÏ À̵é Çü»óµé ¼ÓÀ¸·Î µµÀÔÇϸç; (3) µ¿½Ã¿¡ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ °¨°¢µé, ¸¶À½°ú À̼º¿¡ Äè¶ôÀ» Áִ Ȱµ¿ÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº, ½¦ºÒ¸®¿¡¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¹°Ã¼µéÀÇ ¼ºÁúÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¿ì¸® ¿µÈ¥ÀÇ ÇàÀ§ÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ȯ»óÀÌ´Ù. Àý´ëÀûÀÎ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¾ø´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¿ì¸®´Â »ý°¢Çϱ⿡ Ư¡ÀûÀ̰í Á¶È­·Î¿î °ÍÀ» ¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù°í ¿©±ä´Ù.

According to Coster, ideas of the beautiful, the good and the true are innate. These ideas illuminate our reason and are identical with God, who is goodness, truth and beauty. The idea of beauty includes within itself unity of essence, diversity of component elements, and that order which unity introduces into the diversity of life¡¯s manifestations.

ÄÚ½ºÅÍ¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò, ¼±ÇÔ ¹× ÂüÀÇ °³³äµéÀº ¼±ÃµÀûÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌµé °³³äµéÀº ¿ì¸®ÀÇ À̼ºÀ» ºû³»°í ½Å°ú µ¿ÀÏÇϸç, ±×ºÐÀº ¼±À̸ç Áø¸®ÀÌ¸ç ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀº ±× ÀÚü ¾È¿¡¼­ º»ÁúÀû ÅëÀϼº, ±¸¼º ¿ä¼ÒµéÀÇ ´Ù¾ç¼º ¹× ÅëÀϼºÀÌ »îÀÇ Ç¥Ãâµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ´Ù¾ç¼ºÀ¸·Î µµÀÔÇÏ´Â ±×·± Áú¼­ÀÌ´Ù.

I will cite, for the sake of completeness, some of the most recent writings on art.

¿ÏÀüÀ» ±âÇϱâ À§ÇØ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ °üÇÑ ÃÖ±ÙÀÇ ÀÛǰµé ¸î °¡Áö¸¦ ÀοëÇϰڴÙ.

La psychologie du beau et de l¡¯art, by Mario Pilo. [32] According to Mario Pilo, beauty is the product of our physical sensations. The aim of art is pleasure, but for some reason this pleasure must be regarded as highly moral.

¸¶¸®¿À ÇÊ·ÎÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ¹ÌÀÇ ½É¸® (La psychologie du beau et de l¡¯art). ¸¶¸®¿À Çʷο¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿ì¸®ÀÇ À°Ã¼Àû °¨°¢µéÀÇ »ê¹°ÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀº Äè¶ôÀÌ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¾î¶² ÀÌÀ¯·Î ÀÌ Äè¶ôÀº ¸Å¿ì µµ´öÀûÀ¸·Î ¿©°ÜÁ®¾ß ÇÑ´Ù.

Then there are the Essais sur l¡¯art contemporain of H. Fierens Gevaert, [33] according to whom art depends on its connections with the past and on the religious ideal that an artist of the present sets for himself, lending his work the form of his own individuality.

´ÙÀ½À¸·Î ÇÇ·»½º °Ô¹Ù¸£Æ®ÀÇ Çö´ë ¿¹¼ú ¼Ò·Ð(Essais sur l¡¯art contemporain)À¸·Î, ±×¿¡ ÀÇÇÏ¸é ¿¹¼úÀº ±×°ÍÀÇ °ú°Å¿ÍÀÇ °ü°èµé ¹× ÇöÀçÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡°¡ Àڽſ¡°Ô ¼³Á¤ÇÑ Á¾±³Àû ÀÌ»ó¿¡ ÀÇÁ¸Çϸç, ±×ÀÇ ÀÛǰÀº ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °³¼ºÀÇ ¸ð½ÀÀ» ¶ì°Ô µÈ´Ù.

Then there is Sar Peladan¡¯s L¡¯art idéaliste et mystique. According to Peladan, beauty is one of the expressions of God. ¡®Il n¡¯y a pas d¡¯autre Realité que Dieu, il n¡¯y a pas d¡¯autre Verité que Dieu, il n¡¯y a pas d¡¯autre Beauté que Dieu.¡¯ [34] This is a very fantastic and ignorant book, but characteristic in its propositions and in the modicum of success it is having among French youth.

´ÙÀ½À¸·Î »ç¸£ Æç¶ó´çÀÇ ÀÌ»óÁÖÀÇ ¹× ½ÅºñÁÖÀÇ ¿¹¼ú(L¡¯art idéaliste et mystique)ÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù. Æç¶ó´ç¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ½ÅÀÇ Ç¥Çöµé ÁßÀÇ Çϳª´Ù. ½Å ÀÌ¿ÜÀÇ Çö½ÇÀº ¾ø´Ù, ½Å ÀÌ¿ÜÀÇ Áø¸®´Â ¾ø´Ù, ½Å ÀÌ¿ÜÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¾ø´Ù. À̰ÍÀº ¸Å¿ì ȯ»óÀûÀÌ¸ç ¹«ÁöÇÑ Ã¥ÀÌÁö¸¸, ±× ¸íÁ¦µéÀº Ư¡ÀûÀ̸ç ÇÁ¶û½º ÀþÀºÀÌµé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ ¾à°£ÀÇ ¼º°øÀ» °ÅµÎ°í ÀÖ´Ù.

Such are all the aesthetic systems spread in France recently, to which Véron¡¯s book, L¡¯esthétique, stands as an exception in its clarity and intelligence. Though it does not give a precise definition of art, it at least removes from aesthetics the foggy concept of absolute beauty.

À̰͵éÀº ¸ðµÎ ÃÖ±Ù¿¡ ÇÁ¶û½º¿¡ ÆÛÁ® ÀÖ´Â ¹ÌÇРü°èµé·Î, º£·ÐÀÇ Ã¥, ¹ÌÇÐ(L¡¯esthétique)Àº ±× ¸í·á¼º ¹× Áö¼º¿¡¼­ À̵鿡¼­ ¿¹¿ÜÀûÀÌ´Ù. ºñ·Ï ±× Ã¥ÀÌ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Á¤È®ÇÑ Á¤ÀÇ´Â ³»¸®Áö ¾ÊÁö¸¸, Àû¾îµµ ¹ÌÇп¡¼­ Àý´ëÀû ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ̶õ ¸ðÈ£ÇÑ °³³äÀ» Á¦°ÅÇÑ´Ù.

According to Veron, art is the manifestation of feelings (émotion), conveyed externally by a combination of lines, forms, colours, or a sequence of gestures, sounds, or words subject to certain rhythms.

º£·Ð¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿¹¼úÀº °¨Á¤µé(émotion)ÀÇ Ç¥Ãâ·Î¼­, ¼±µé, ¸ð¾çµé, »ö»óµé ¶Ç´Â ¿¬¼ÓÀûÀÎ ¸öÁþµé, ¼Ò¸®µé, ¶Ç´Â ƯÁ¤ÇÑ ¸®µë¿¡ ±Í¼ÓµÈ ´Ü¾îµéÀÇ Á¶ÇÕ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¿ÜÀûÀ¸·Î Àü´ÞµÈ´Ù.

In England during this time, writers on aesthetics define beauty more and more frequently not by its proper quality, but by taste, and the question of beauty is replaced by the question of taste.

ÀÌ ½Ã±â µ¿¾ÈÀÇ ¿µ±¹¿¡¼±, ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇÑ ÀÛ°¡µéÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» Á¡Á¡´õ ±×°Í¿¡ ÀûÀýÇÑ ¼ºÁú¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ÃëÇâ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ Á¤ÀÇÇϸç, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ¹®Á¦´Â ÃëÇâÀÇ ¹®Á¦·Î ´ëüµÈ´Ù.

After Reid, [35] who recognized beauty as being dependent solely on the contemplator, Alison, in his book On the Nature and Principles of Taste (1790), proves the same thing. The same was also asserted by Erasmus Darwin, grandfather of the famous Charles. He says that we find beautiful that which in our view is connected with what we love. Along the same lines is Richard Knight¡¯s book, An Analytical Inquiry into the Principles of Taste (1805).

¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ °üÂûÀÚ¿¡ ÀÇÁ¸ÇÑ´Ù°í ÀνÄÇÏ´Â ·¹À̵忡 À̾, ¾Ë¸®½¼Àº,±×ÀÇ Ã¥ ÃëÇâÀÇ º»Áú°ú ¿ø¸®µé (1790)¿¡¼­, µ¿ÀÏÇÑ °ÍÀ» Áõ¸íÇϰí ÀÖ´Ù. µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ³»¿ëÀº À¯¸íÇÑ Âû½º ´Ù¾ÆÀ©ÀÇ Á¶ºÎÀÎ ¿¡¶ó½º¹«½º ´ÙÀ©¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­µµ ÁÖâµÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×´Â ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ °üÁ¡¿¡¼­ ¿ì¸®°¡ »ç¶ûÇÏ´Â °Í°ú ¿¬°üµÈ °ÍÀ» ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î °ÍÀ¸·Î º»´Ù°í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. ¸®Ã³µå ³ªÀÌÆ®ÀÇ Ã¥, ÃëÇâÀÇ ¿ø¸®µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ºÐ¼®Àû ¿¬±¸(1805)µµ µ¿ÀÏ ¼±»ó¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù. .

Along the same lines are the majority of English aesthetic theories. In England, at the beginning of this century, the prominent writers on aesthetics were Charles Darwin (to some extent), Spencer, Todhunter, Morley, Grant Alien, Ker and Knight. [36]

µ¿ÀÏ ¼±»óµé¿¡´Â ´ë´Ù¼ö ¿µ±¹ ¹ÌÇÐ À̷еéÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù. ¿µ±¹¿¡¼±, ÀÌ ¼¼±âÀÇ ÃÊâ±â¿¡, ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇÑ ¶Ù¾î³­ ÀÛ°¡µéÀº, Âû½º ´Ù¾ÆÀ©(¾î´À Á¤µµ±îÁö´Â), ½ºÆæ¼­, ÅäµåÇåÅÍ, ¸ô¸®, ±×·£Æ® ¿¤¸®¾ð, Äɸ£ ¹× ³ªÀÌÆ®°¡ ÀÖ´Ù.

According to Charles Darwin in his Descent of Man (1871), beauty is a feeling proper not only to man but to animals, and therefore to the ancestors of man as well. Birds adorn their nests and appreciate the beauty of their mates. Beauty has influence on marriage. Beauty includes the notion of differing characters. The art of music originated in the calling of male to female.

Àú¼­ ÀηùÀÇ À¯·¡(1871)¿¡¼­ Âû½º ´Ù¾ÆÀ©¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó µ¿¹°µé¿¡°Ô, ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ÀηùÀÇ ¼±Á¶µé¿¡°Ôµµ °íÀ¯ÇÑ ´À³¦ÀÌ´Ù. »õµéÀº ±×µéÀÇ µÕÁöµéÀ» Ä¡ÀåÇÏ°í ±×µé ¦ÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ÀνÄÇÑ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº È¥Àο¡ ¿µÇâÀ» ¹ÌÄ£´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ´Ù¸¥ ¼º°ÝÀÇ °ü³äµéÀ» Æ÷ÇÔÇÑ´Ù. À½¾Ç ¿¹¼úÀº ¼öÄÆÀÌ ¾ÏÄÆÀ» ºÎ¸§¿¡¼­ À¯·¡µÇ¾ú´Ù.

According to Spencer, the origin of art is play — a thought already expressed by Schiller. In the lower animals, all the energy of life is spent on maintaining and continuing life itself; but in man, after these needs have been satisfied, there remains a surplus of energy. It is this surplus that is used in play, which passes into art. Play is a likeness of real action; art is the same.

½ºÆæ¼­¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ±â¿øÀº ³îÀÌ — ½¯·¯¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀÌ¹Ì Ç¥ÇöµÇ¾ú´ø »ç»ó — ÀÌ´Ù. ÇÏµî µ¿¹°µé¿¡¼­, »îÀÇ ¸ðµç ÈûÀº »ý¸í »çü¸¦ À¯ÁöÇϰí Áö¼Ó½ÃÅ´¿¡ »ç¿ëµÈ´Ù; »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô´Â, ÀÌ·± ÇÊ¿äµéÀÌ ¸¸Á·µÇ°í ³ª¸é, ¿©ºÐÀÇ ÈûÀÌ ³²¾Æ ÀÖ´Ù. ÀÌ ¿©ºÐÀÌ ¹Ù·Î ³îÀÌ¿¡ »ç¿ëµÇ´Â °ÍÀ̸ç, ¿¹¼ú·Î ½ÂÈ­µÈ´Ù. ³îÀÌ´Â ½ÇÁ¦Àû ÇàÀ§¸¦ ¸ð¹æÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù; ¿¹¼úµµ ¸¶Âù°¡Áö´Ù.

The sources of aesthetic pleasure are: (1) that which exercises the senses (sight, or some other) in the fullest way, with least detriment and greatest exercise; (2) that which gives the greatest variety of evoked feelings; and (3) the combination of the first two with the idea they produce.

¹ÌÇÐÀû Áñ°Å¿òÀÇ ±Ù¿øµéÀº: (1) °¨°¢µéÀ» ÃÖ°íµµ·Î Ȱ¿ëÇÏ´Â °Í, ÃÖ¼ÒÀÇ Àå¾Ö¿Í ÃÖ´ëÀÇ È°¿ë; (2) ÃÖ´ë·Î ´Ù¾çÇÏ°Ô °í¾çµÈ ´À³¦µéÀ» ÁÖ´Â °Í; (3) ¾ÕÀÇ µÎ °¡Áö¿Í ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ¸¸µé¾î ³»´Â °³³äµéÀÇ Á¶ÇÕÀÌ´Ù.

According to Todhunter, in The Theory of the Beautiful (1872), beauty is infinite attractiveness, which we perceive both through reason and through the enthusiasm of love. The recognition of beauty as beauty depends on taste and can in no way be defined. The only approximation to a definition is the greater cultivation of people; but what this cultivation is never gets defined. The essence of art, of that which touches us by means of lines, colours, sounds, words, is a product, not of blind forces, but of forces that are reasonable, that strive, aiding one another, for a reasonable aim. Beauty is a reconciliation of contraries.

¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ÀÌ·Ð(1872)¿¡¼­ ÅäµåÇåÅÍ¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¹«ÇÑÇÑ ¸Å·ÂÀ̸ç, ¿ì¸®´Â À̰ÍÀ» À̼º ¹× »ç¶ûÀÇ Á¤¿­À» ÅëÇØ¼­ ´À³¤´Ù. ¹Ì·Î¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ÀνÄÀº ÃëÇâ¿¡ ÀÇÁ¸ÇÏ¸ç °áÄÚ Á¤ÀÇµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù. ÀÏÁ¾ÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ À¯ÀÏÇÑ Á¢±ÙÀº »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ´õ ³ªÀº ±³¾çÀÌ´Ù; ÇÏÁö¸¸ ÀÌ ±³¾çÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀÎÁö´Â °áÄÚ Á¤ÀǵÇÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀÇ, Áï, ¼±µé, »ö»óµé, ¼Ò¸®µé, ´Ü¾îµé·Î¼­ ¿ì¸®¸¦ °¨µ¿½ÃŰ´Â °ÍÀÇ º»ÁúÀº, ¸Í¸ñÀû Èû¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ÇÕ¸®ÀûÀ̸ç, ÇÕ¸®ÀûÀÎ ¸ñÀûÀ» À§ÇØ ¼­·Î¸¦ µµ¿ì¸ç ¾Ö¾²´Â Èû¿¡ ÀÇÇÑ »ê¹°ÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¸ð¼øµéÀÇ Á¶È­ÀÌ´Ù.

According to Morley, in Sermons Preached Before the University of Oxford (1876), beauty is found in man¡¯s soul. Nature speaks to us of the divine, and art is the hieroglyphic expression of the divine.

¿Á½ºÆ÷µå ´ëÇп¡¼­ÀÇ ¼³±³µé(1876)¿¡¼­ ¸ô¸®¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº »ç¶÷ÀÇ ¿µÈ¥¿¡¼­ ¹ß°ßµÈ´Ù. ÀÚ¿¬Àº ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ½Å¼º¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¸»ÇØÁÖ°í, ¿¹¼úÀº ½Å¼ºÀÇ »óÇü¹®ÀÚÀû Ç¥ÇöÀÌ´Ù.

According to Grant Alien, a follower of Spencer, in his Psychological Aesthetics (1877), beauty is of physical origin. He says that aesthetic pleasure originates in the contemplation of the beautiful, and the idea of the beautiful is the result of a physiological process. Play is the beginning of art; having a surplus of physical force, man gives himself to play; having a surplus of receptive force, man gives himself to the activity of art. The beautiful is that which affords the greatest stimulation with the least expenditure. Differing evaluations of the beautiful come from taste. Taste can be cultivated. One must trust in the judgement of ¡®the finest nurtured and most discriminative men¡¯ — that is, men capable of a better evaluation. These people shape the taste of the next generation.

ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ÀÛǰ, ½É¸®ÇÐÀû ¹ÌÇÐ(1877)¿¡¼­, ½ºÆæ¼­ÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚÀÎ ±×·£Æ® ¿¤¸®¾ð¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ½ÅüÀû ±Ù¿ø¿¡¼­ À¯·¡µÈ´Ù. ±×´Â ¹ÌÇÐÀû Äè¶ôÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î °Í¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °¨»ó¿¡¼­ À¯·¡Çϸç, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î °ÍÀÇ °³³äÀº ½É¸®ÇÐÀû °úÁ¤ÀÇ °á°úÀÌ´Ù. ³îÀÌ´Â ¿¹¼úÀÇ ½ÃÀÛÀ̸ç, ¿©ºÐÀÇ ½ÅüÀû ÈûÀ» °¡ÁüÀ¸·Î½á, »ç¶÷Àº ÀÚ½ÅÀ» ³îÀÌ¿¡ ¸Ã±ä´Ù; ¿©ºÐÀÇ ¼ö¿ëÀû ÈûÀ» Áö´Ï¸é¼­, »ç¶÷Àº ¿¹¼úÀÇ È°µ¿¿¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀ» ¸Ã±ä´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ÃÖ¼ÒÀÇ ºñ¿ëÀ¸·Î ÃÖ´ëÀÇ ÀÚ±ØÀ» Á¦°øÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ´Ù¸¥ Æò°¡µéÀº ÃëÇâ¿¡¼­ ¿Â´Ù. ÃëÇâÀº ¹è¾çµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â '°¡Àå ÈǸ¢È÷ ¾çÀ°µÈ °¡Àå Æ¯ÀÌÇÑ »ç¶÷µé'ÀÇ ÆÇ´ÜÀ» ½Å·ÚÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù — ´Ù½Ã ¸»Çϸé, »ç¶÷µéÀº ´õ ³ªÀº Æò°¡¸¦ ¹ÞÀ» ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. ÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀº ´ÙÀ½ ¼¼´ëÀÇ ÃëÇâÀ» ¸¸µç´Ù.

According to Ker, in his Essay on the Philosophy of Art (1883), beauty gives us the means fully to comprehend the objective world without that reference to other parts of the world which is indispensable for science. And therefore art abolishes the contradiction between unity and multiplicity, between law and phenomenon, between subject and object, uniting them in one. Art is the manifestation and affirmation of freedom, because it is free of the darkness and incomprehensibility of finite things.

Äɸ£¿¡ µû¸£¸é, ±×ÀÇ Àú¼­ ¿¹¼úÀÇ Ã¶Çп¡ °üÇÑ ¼Ò·Ð(1883)¿¡¼­, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº °úÇп¡ ¾ø¾î¼­´Â ¾ÈµÉ ¼¼°èÀÇ ´Ù¸¥ ºÎºÐµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÂüÁ¶ ¾ø´Â °´°üÀûÀÎ ¼¼°è¸¦ ÃæºÐÈ÷ ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖµµ·Ï ÇÏ´Â ¼ö´ÜÀ» ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô Á¦°øÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¿¹¼úÀº ÅëÀϼº°ú ´Ù¾ç¼º »çÀÌÀÇ, ¹ýÄ¢°ú Çö»ó »çÀÌÀÇ, ÁÖü¿Í °´Ã¼ »çÀÌÀÇ, ¹Ý¸ñÀ» ÆóÁöÇϸç, ±×µéÀ» Çϳª·Î ¹­´Â´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀº ÀÚÀ¯ÀÇ Ç¥ÃâÀ̸ç È®ÀÎÀÌ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀº ¾îµÎ¿ò°ú À¯ÇÑÇÑ »ç¹°µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ºÒ°¡Çؼº¿¡¼­ ÀÚÀ¯·Ó±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

According to W. A. Knight (Philosophy of the Beautiful, II, 1893), beauty is, as with Schelling, the union of object and subject; it is the extraction from nature of that which is proper to man, and the consciousness in oneself of that which is common to the whole of nature.

³ªÀÌÆ® (¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Ã¶ÇÐ, II, 1893)¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº, ½©¸µ°ú ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î, °´Ã¼¿Í ÁÖüÀÇ °áÇÕÀÌ´Ù; ±×°ÍÀº »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô °íÀ¯ÇÑ °ÍÀÎÀÇ ÀÚ¿¬À¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ÃßÃâ¹°À̸ç, Àüü ÀÚ¿¬¿¡ °øÅëÀûÀÎ °ÍÀÎ ÀÚü ¾È¿¡¼­ÀÇ ÀǽÄÀÌ´Ù.

The judgements of beauty and art cited here are far from exhausting all that has been written on the subject. Moreover, new writers on aesthetics appear every day, and the judgements of these new writers contain the same strange, spellbound obscurity and contradictoriness in their definition of beauty. Some continue by inertia the mystical aesthetics of Baumgarten and Hegel, with various modifications; others transfer the question to the realm of the subjective and discover that the principles of the beautiful are a matter of taste; still others —  aestheticians of the very latest formation — discover the origin of beauty in the laws of physiology; a fourth group, finally, considers the question quite independently of the notion of beauty. Thus, according to Sully, [37] in Studies in Psychology and Aesthetics (1874), the concept of beauty is completely abolished, since art, in Sully¡¯s definition, is the production of an abiding or transient object capable of giving active enjoyment and a pleasurable impression to a certain number of spectators or listeners, regardless of the advantage to be derived from it.

¿©±â ÀοëµÈ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÆÇ´ÜÀº °áÄÚ ÁÖÁ¦¿¡ °üÇØ ±â·ÏµÇ¾îÁø ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ´ëº¯ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. ´õ¿íÀÌ, ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇÑ »õ·Î¿î ÀÛ°¡µéÀÌ ³ª³¯ÀÌ µîÀåÇϸç, ÀÌµé »õ·Î¿î ÀÛ°¡µéÀÇ ÆÇ´ÜµéÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±×µéÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡¼­ Çϳª°°ÀÌ ÀÌ»óÇÏ°í ¸¶¹ý¿¡ Ȧ¸° °Í °°Àº ¸ðÈ£ÇÔ ¹× ¸ð¼ø¼ºÀ» ´ã°í ÀÖ´Ù. ¾î¶² À̵éÀº ¹«±â·ÂÇϰԵµ, ¿©±âÀú±â ¼öÁ¤Çϸ鼭, ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙ ¹× Çì°ÖÀÇ ½ÅºñÁÖÀÇÀû ¹ÌÇÐÀ» °è¼ÓÇϸç, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀº ¹®Á¦¸¦ ÁÖ°üÀûÀÎ ¿µ¿ªÀ¸·Î ¹Ì·ç¸ç ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ¿ø¸®µéÀº ÃëÇâÀÇ ¹®Á¦¶ó°í ÇÑ´Ù; ¶Ç ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé — °¡Àå ÃÖ±Ù µîÀåÇÑ ¹ÌÇÐÀÚµé — Àº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ±â¿øÀ» »ý¸®ÇÐÀÇ ¹ýÄ¢µé¿¡¼­ ¹ß°ßÇÑ´Ù; ¸¶Áö¸·À¸·Î, ³× ¹øÂ° ¹«¸®´Â ¹®Á¦¸¦ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ̶õ °ü³ä¿¡¼­ »ó´çÈ÷ ºÐ¸®ÇÏ¿© °í·ÁÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿©, ¼ú¸®¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ½É¸®Çаú ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇÑ ¿¬±¸µé(1874)¿¡¼­, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀº ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ÆóÁöµÈ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº, ¼ú¸®ÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ÀÏÁ¤ÇÑ ¼ýÀÚÀÇ ±¸°æ²Ûµé ¶Ç´Â ûÁߵ鿡°Ô Àû±ØÀû Áñ°Å¿ò ¹× Äè¶ôÀû ÀλóÀ» ÁÙ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â, ±×·ÎºÎÅÍ µµÃâµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ÀÌÀÍ¿¡ °ü°è¾øÀÌ, Áö¼ÓÀû ¶Ç´Â ÀáÁ¤Àû ¹°Ã¼ÀÇ »ê¹°À̱⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.
¡¡ ¡¡

IV

¡¡ ¡¡

What then follows from all these definitions of beauty offered by the science of aesthetics? If we set aside those totally inaccurate definitions of beauty which do not cover the idea of art, and which place it now in usefulness, now in expediency, now in symmetry, or in order, or in proportionality, or in polish, or in harmony of parts, or in unity within diversity, or in various combinations of all these principles — if we set aside these unsatisfactory attempts at objective definition, all the aesthetic definitions of beauty come down to two fundamental views: one, that beauty is something existing in itself, a manifestation of the absolutely perfect — idea, spirit, will, God; the other, that beauty is a certain pleasure we experience, which does not have personal advantage as its aim.

±×·¸´Ù¸é ¹ÌÇÐÀ̶õ Çй®¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Á¦°øµÇ´Â ÀÌ ¸ðµç Á¤Àǵé·ÎºÎÅÍ ¹«¾ùÀÌ ¿À´Â°¡? ¸¸ÀÏ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿¹¼úÀÇ °³³äÀ» Æ÷°ý ÇÏÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â, ±×¸®°í ÇöÀç·Î ±×°ÍÀ» À¯¿ëÇÔ¿¡, ÇöÀç·Î Æí¸®ÇÔ¿¡, ÇöÀç·Î ±ÕÇü¿¡, ȤÀº Áú¼­¿¡, ȤÀº Á¶È­¿¡, ȤÀº ¼¼·ÃµÊ¿¡, ȤÀº ºÎºÐµéÀÇ Á¶È­¿¡, ȤÀº ´Ù¾ç¼ºÀ» Áö´Ñ ÅëÀϼº¿¡, ȤÀº ÀÌ ¸ðµç ¿ø¸®µéÀÇ ´Ù¾çÇÑ Á¶Çյ鿡 µÐ´Ù´Â, ±×·± ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î ºÎÁ¤È®ÇÑ Á¤ÀǵéÀ» ³»¹ö¸°´Ù¸é — ¸¸ÀÏ ¿ì¸®°¡ °´°üÀû Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ·± ºÒ¸¸Á·½º·± ½Ãµµµé ³»¹ö¸°´Ù¸é, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¸ðµç ¹ÌÇÐÀû Á¤ÀǵéÀº µÎ °¡Áö ±Ùº»Àû ½Ã°¢µé·Î ±Í°áµÈ´Ù: ±× Çϳª´Â, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ±× ÀÚü·Î¼­ Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â ¾î¶² °Í, Àý´ëÀûÀ¸·Î ¿ÏÀüÇÑ — °³³ä,  Á¤½Å, ÀÇÁö — ÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ̶ó´Â °Í; ´Ù¸¥ Çϳª´Â, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿ì¸®°¡ °æÇèÇÏ´Â ¾î¶² Äè¶ôÀ̸ç, ±×°ÍÀº °³ÀÎÀû ÀÌÀÍÀ» ¸ñÇ¥·Î ÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

The first definition was adopted by Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Schopenhauer, and by the philosophizing Frenchmen — Cousin, Jouffroy, Ravaisson et al., not to mention the second-rate aesthetic philosophers. The same objective-mystical definition of beauty is held by the greater portion of educated people in our time. It is a widely spread understanding of beauty, especially among people of the older generation.

ù ¹øÂ° Á¤ÀÇ´Â ÇÇÈ÷Å×, ½©¸µ, Çì°Ö, ¼îÆæÇÏ¿ì¾î, ±×¸®°í öÇÐÀÚÀΠôÇÏ´Â ÇÁ¶û½ºÀÎµé — ÀÌ·ù ¹ÌÇРöÇÐÀÚµéÀº ¸»ÇÒ °Íµµ ¾øÀÌ, Äí¼Ä, ÁÖÇÁ·ÎÀÌ, ¶óº£¼Û µîµî  — ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ äÅõǾú´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¶È°°Àº °´°üÀû-½ÅºñÁÖÀÇÀû Á¤ÀÇ´Â ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ëÀÇ ´ë´Ù¼öÀÇ ±³À°¹ÞÀº »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÁöÁöµÈ´Ù. ÀÌ´Â ³Î¸® ÆÛÁ® ÀÖ´Â, ƯÈ÷ ±¸ ¼¼´ë »ç¶÷µé »çÀÌÀÇ,¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌÇØÀÌ´Ù.

The second definition of beauty, as a certain pleasure we receive which has no personal advantage as its aim, is spread mostly among English aestheticians, and is shared by the other, mostly younger, portion of our society.

¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ µÎ ¹øÂ°ÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ´Â, ±× ¸ñÇ¥·Î¼­ ¾Æ¹«·± °³ÀÎÀû ÀÌÀÍÀ» ÃëÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù°í ¿ì¸®°¡ ¹Þ¾Æ µéÀÌ´Â ¾î¶² Äè¶ôÀ¸·Î¼­, ÁÖ·Î ¿µ±¹ÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀڵ鿡°Ô ÆÛÁ® ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±âŸ, ¿ì¸® »çȸÀÇ ÁÖ·Î ÀþÀº Ãþ¿¡°Ô °øÀ¯µÈ´Ù.

Thus there exist (and it could not be otherwise) only two definitions of beauty: one the objective and mystical one, which merges this concept with the highest perfection, with God —  a fantastic definition, not based on anything; the other, on the contrary, a very simple and clear subjective one, which considers beauty to be that which is pleasing (I do not add ¡®without aim or advantage¡¯, because the word pleasing of itself implies this absence of any consideration of advantage).

±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿À·ÎÁö µÎ °¡Áö Á¤ÀǵéÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù(¹°·Ð ´Ù¸¥ °æ¿ì´Â ÀÖÀ» ¼ö ¾ø´Ù): Çϳª´Â, °´°üÀû ¹× ½ÅºñÁÖÀÇÀûÀÎ °ÍÀ¸·Î, ÀÌ °³³äÀ» ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¿ÏÀü¼º, Áï, ½Å°ú  ¹­¾îµÎ¸ç  — ȯ»óÀûÀÎ Á¤ÀÇ·Î, ¾Æ¹« °Í¿¡µµ ±âÃÊÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù; ´Ù¸¥ Çϳª´Â, ¹Ý´ë·Î, ¸Å¿ì ´Ü¼ø ¸í·áÇÑ ÁÖ°üÀûÀÎ °ÍÀ¸·Î, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» Áñ°Å¿î °ÍÀÌ´Ù¶ó°í ¿©±ä´Ù ( ³ª´Â '¸ñÀû ¶Ç´Â ÀÌÀÍ ¾øÀÌ'¸¦ µ¡ºÙÀÌÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé Áñ°Å¿î'À̶õ ´Ü¾î´Â ÀÚ¿¬È÷ ÀÌÀÍ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¾î¶² °í·ÁÀÇ °á¿©¸¦ ³»Æ÷Çϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù).

On the one hand, beauty is understood as something mystical and very exalted, but unfortunately very indefinite and, therefore, inclusive of philosophy, religion, and life itself, as in Schelling, Hegel and their German and French followers; or, on the other hand, according to the definition of Kant and his followers, beauty is only a particular kind of disinterested pleasure that we receive. In this case the concept of beauty, though seemingly very clear, is unfortu¡©nately also imprecise, because it expands in the other direction — meaning that it includes the pleasure derived from drinking, eating, touching soft skin, etc., as is admitted in Guyau, Kralik et al.

ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ½ÅºñÇÏ°í ¸Å¿ì ¼þ°íÇÑ ¾î¶² °ÍÀ¸·Î ÀÌÇØµÇÁö¸¸, ºÒÇàÇϰԵµ ¸Å¿ì ºÒÈ®½ÇÇϰí, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ½©¸µ, Çì°Ö ±×¸®°í µ¶ÀÏ ¹× ÇÁ¶û½ºÀÇ ±×µéÀÇ ÃßÁ¾Àڵ鿡¼­Ã³·³, öÇÐ, Á¾±³, ±×¸®°í »î ÀÚü¸¦ Æ÷ÇÔÇÑ´Ù; ´Ù¸¥ ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î, Ä­Æ®¿Í ±×ÀÇ ÃßÁ¾Àڵ鿡 ÀÇÇϸé, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¹Þ´Â ƯÁ¤ÇÑ Á¾·ùÀÇ »ç½É ¾ø´Â Äè¶ôÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ °æ¿ì ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀº, °Ñº¸±â¿¡ ¸Å¿ì ¸í·áÇÏÁö¸¸, ¿ª½Ã ºÒÇàÈ÷µµ ºÎÁ¤È®ÇÏ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀº ´Ù¸¥ ¹æÇâ — ±¸¾ß, Å©¶ó¸®Å© µî¿¡¼­ ÀÎÁ¤µÇ´Â °Íó·³, ±×°ÍÀº ¸¶½Ã±â, ¸Ô±â, ºÎµå·¯¿î ÇǺθ¦ ¸¸Áö±â, µî¿¡¼­ ÆÄ»ýµÇ´Â Äè¶ôÀ» Æ÷ÇÔÇÏ´Â ÀÇ¹Ì — ·Î ÆîÃÄÁö±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

It is true that, in following the development of the teaching concerning beauty, one can observe that at first, from the time when aesthetics emerged as a science, the metaphysical definition of beauty prevailed, while the closer we come to our own time, the more there emerges a practical definition, recently acquiring a physiological character, so that one even comes upon aestheticians such as Véron and Sully, who attempt to do without the concept of beauty entirely. But such aestheticians have very little success, and the majority of the public, and of artists and scholars as well, firmly hold to the concept of beauty as defined in the majority of aesthetic systems — that is, either as something mystical or metaphysical, or as a particular kind of pleasure.

»ç½ÇÀÎ Áï, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ °üÇÑ °¡¸£Ä§ÀÇ ¹ßÀüÀ» µû¶ó°¨¿¡¼­, ¹ÌÇÐÀÌ Çй®À¸·Î ³ªÅ¸³­ óÀ½ºÎÅÍ, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀû Á¤Àǰ¡ Áö¹èÀûÀ̾úÀ¸¸ç, ¿ì¸® ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ½Ã´ë¿¡ °¡±î¿ö Áö¸é Áú¼ö·Ï, ´õ¿í ´õ ½Ç¿ëÀû Á¤Àǰ¡ ³ªÅ¸³­ ÇÑÆí, ÃÖ±Ù¿¡´Â »ý¸®ÇÐÀûÀΠƯ¡±îÁö ¶ì°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ¿ì¸®´Â ½ÉÁö¾î º£·Ð ¹× ¼³¸® °°Àº ¹ÌÇÐÀڵ鿡 µµ´ÞÇϸç, ±×µéÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀ» ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î ¾ø¾Ö·Á ½ÃµµÇÑ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±×·± ¹ÌÇеéÀº °ÅÀÇ ¼º°øÇÏÁö ¸øÇÑ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ´ë´Ù¼ö ´ëÁßÀº, ¿¹¼ú°¡µé°ú ÇÐÀڵ鵵 Æ÷ÇÔÇÏ¿©, ´ë´Ù¼ö ¹ÌÇРü°èµé — Áï, ½ÅºñÁÖÀÇÀû ¶Ç´Â ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀûÀÎ ¾î¶² °ÍÀ¸·Î, ȤÀº ƯÁ¤ÇÑ Á¾·ùÀÇ Äè¶ôÀ¸·Î — ¿¡ Á¤ÀÇµÈ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °³³äÀ» ±»°ÇÈ÷ ÁöÁöÇϰí ÀÖ´Ù.

What essentially is this concept of beauty, to which people of our circle and day hold so stubbornly for the defining of art?

±Ùº»ÀûÀ¸·Î ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ·± °³³äÀº ¹«¾ùÀ̸ç, ¿ì¸® ¹üÁÖ ¹× ½Ã´ëÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀº ¿¹¼úÀÇ °³³äÀ¸·Î ±×Åä·Ï ¿Ï°­È÷ ÁýÂøÇϴ°¡?

We call beauty in the subjective sense that which affords us a certain kind of pleasure. In the objective sense, we call beauty something absolutely perfect which exists outside us. But since we recognize the absolutely perfect which exists outside us and acknowledge it as such only because we receive a certain kind of pleasure from the manifestation of this absolutely perfect, it means that the objective definition is nothing but the subjective one differently expressed. In fact, both notions of beauty come down to a certain sort of pleasure that we receive, meaning that we recognize as beauty that which pleases us without awakening our lust. In such a situation, it would seem natural for the science of art not to content itself with a definition of art based on beauty — that is, on what is pleasing — and to seek a general definition, applicable to all works of art, on the basis of which it would be possible to resolve the question of what does or does not belong to art. But as the reader may see from the passages I have cited from works on aesthetics, and still more clearly from the works themselves, if he should take the trouble to read them, no such definition exists. All attempts to define absolute beauty in itself — as an imitation of nature, as purposefulness, as correspondence of parts, symmetry, harmony, unity in diversity and so on — either do not define anything, or define only certain features of certain works of art, and are far from embracing everything that all people have always regarded and still regard as art.

¿ì¸®´Â ÁÖ°üÀû Àǹ̿¡¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ƯÁ¤ÇÑ Á¾·ùÀÇ Äè¶ôÀ» ÁÖ´Â °ÍÀ̶ó ÁöĪÇÑ´Ù. °´°üÀû Àǹ̿¡¼­, ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ì¸® ¹Û¿¡ Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â Àý´ëÀûÀ¸·Î ¿Ïº®ÇÑ ¾î¶² °ÍÀ» ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ̶ó ºÎ¸¥´Ù.±×·¯³ª ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ì¸® ¹Û¿¡ Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â Àý´ëÀûÀ¸·Î ¿Ïº®ÇÑ °ÍÀ» ÀνÄÇϸç ÀÌ·± Àý´ëÀû ¿Ïº®ÇÔÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ÀÏÁ¤ÇÑ Á¾·ùÀÇ Äè¶ôÀ» ¾ò±â¿¡ ¿À·ÎÁö ±×·¯ÇÏ´Ù°í ÀÎÁ¤ÇϹǷÎ, ±×°ÍÀº °´°üÀû Á¤ÀÇ´Â ´ÜÁö ´Ù¸£°Ô Ç¥ÇöµÈ ÁÖ°üÀû Á¤ÀÇÀÓÀ» ÀǹÌÇÑ´Ù. »ç½Ç»ó, µÎ °¡Áö ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °ßÇØµéÀº ¿ì¸®°¡ ¼ö¿ëÇÏ´Â ¾î¶² Á¾·ùÀÇ Äè¶ôÀ¸·Î ±Í°áµÇ¸ç, ÀÌ´Â ¿ì¸®°¡ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¿å¸ÁÀ» Àϱú¿ò ¾øÀÌ ¿ì¸®¸¦ Áñ°Ì°Ô ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î ÀνÄÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ÀǹÌÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯ÇÑ »óȲ¿¡¼­, ¿¹¼úÀ̶õ Çй®Àº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò — Áï, Áñ°Å¿òÀ» ÁÖ´Â °Í — ¿¡ ±âÃÊÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ ½º½º·Î ¸¸Á·Çϰųª, ¸ðµç ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé¿¡ ÇØ´çÇÏ´Â ÀϹÝÀû Á¤ÀǸ¦ Ãß±¸ÇÏ¿©, ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ¼ÓÇÏ´ÂÁö ¾Æ´ÏÇÏ´ÂÁöÀÇ ¹®Á¦¸¦ ÇØ°áÇÏ·Á´Â Åä´ë·Î »ïÀ¸·Á ÇÏÁö ¾Êµµ·Ï ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ´ç¿¬ÇØ º¸ÀÏ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª µ¶ÀÚµéÀº ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇÑ ÀÛǰµé·ÎºÎÅÍ ³»°¡ ÀοëÇÑ ±¸Àýµé¿¡¼­, ±×¸®°í ±× ÀÛǰµé ÀÚü¿¡¼­ ´õ¿í ¸íÈ®ÇÏ°Ô ¾Ë ¼ö ÀÖµíÀÌ, ¸¸ÀÏ ±×°ÍµéÀ» ¾Ö½á ÀÐ¾î º»´Ù¸é, ±×·± Á¤ÀÇ´Â ÀüÇô Á¸ÀçÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù. º»ÁúÀûÀ¸·Î Àý´ëÀû ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò — ÀÚ¿¬ÀÇ ¸ð¹æÀ¸·Î¼­, ¸ñÀûÀ» ÇÔÃàÇÔÀ¸·Î½á, ºÎºÐµéÀÇ ÀÏÄ¡, ±ÕÇü, Á¶È­, ´Ù¾ç¼º ¾ÈÀÇ ÅëÀϼº, µîµî — À» Á¤ÀÇÇÏ·Á´Â ¸ðµç ½ÃµµµéÀº ¾Æ¹« °Íµµ Á¤ÀÇÇÏÁöµµ ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ´ÜÁö ƯÁ¤ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀÇ Æ¯Â¡µéÀ» Á¤ÀÇÇÒ »ÓÀ̸ç, ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©°Ü ¿Ô°í ¾ÆÁ÷µµ ¿©±â°í ÀÖ´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ¸Á¶óÇÏ´Â °Í°ú´Â °Å¸®°¡ ¸Ö´Ù.

An objective definition of art does not exist; the existing definitions, metaphysical as well as practical, come down to one and the same subjective definition, which, strange as it is to say, is the view of art as the manifestation of beauty, and of beauty as that which pleases (without awakening lust). Many aestheticians have felt the inadequacy and instability of such a definition, and, in order to give it substance, have asked themselves what is pleasing and why, thus shifting the question of beauty to the question of taste, as did Hutcheson, Voltaire, Diderot et al. But (as the reader can see both from the history of aesthetics and from experience) no attempts to define taste can lead anywhere, and there is not and can never be any explanation of why something is pleasing to one man and not to another, or vice versa. Thus, existing aesthetics as a whole consists not in something such as might be expected of an intellectual activity calling itself a science — namely, in a definition of the properties and laws of art, or of the beautiful, if it is the content of art, or in a definition of the properties of taste, if it is taste that decides the question of art and its worth, and then, on the basis of these laws, the recognition as art of those works that fit them, and the rejection of those that do not fit them — but instead it consists in first recognizing a certain kind of work as good because it pleases us, and then in constructing such a theory of art as will include all works found pleasing by a certain circle of people. There exists an artistic canon according to which the favorite works of our circle are recognized as art (Phidias, Sophocles, Homer, Titian, Raphael, Bach, Beethoven, Dante, Shakespeare, Goethe et al.), and aesthetic judgments must be such as can embrace all these works. One has no difficulty finding in aesthetic literature judgments of the worth and significance of art based not on known laws, according to which we regard this or that object as good or bad, but on whether it conforms to the artistic canon we have established. The other day I was reading a very nice book by Volkelt. [38] Discussing the requirement of morality in works of art, the author says straight out that it is wrong to bring any moral requirements to art, and as proof he points out that if such requirements were admitted, Shakespeare¡¯s Romeo and Juliet and Goethe¡¯s Wilhelm Meister would not fall under the definition of good art. Since both works belong to the artistic canon, the requirement would be incorrect. And therefore one must find a definition of art that would allow these works of art to fit into it, and, instead of the requirement of morality, Volkelt posits as the basis of art the requirement of significance (Bedeutungsvoiles).

¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °´°üÀû Á¤ÀÇ´Â Á¸ÀçÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù; ±âÁ¸ÀÇ Á¤ÀǵéÀº, ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀûÀÌµç ½Ç¿ëÀûÀ̵ç, ÇϳªÀÇ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ÁÖ°üÀû Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ µµ´ÞÇϸç, ±×°ÍÀº, ÀÌ»óÇÑ ¸»ÀÌÁö¸¸, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ¸·Î¼­ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ½Ã°¢, ±×¸®°í (¿å¸ÁÀ» Àϱú¿ò ¾øÀÌ) Áñ°Ì°Ô ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ½Ã°¢ÀÌ´Ù. ¸¹Àº ¹ÌÇÐÀÚµéÀº ±×·¯ÇÑ Á¤ÀÇÀÇ ºÎÀûÀýÇÔ ¹× ºÒ¾ÈÁ¤¼ºÀ» ´À²¼À¸¸ç, ±×°Í¿¡ Àǹ̸¦ ºÎ¿©ÇϰíÀÚ, Áñ°Å¿òÀ̶õ ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡ ±×¸®°í ¿Ö ±×·±°¡¸¦ ½º½º·Î Áú¹®ÇÏ¿´À¸¸ç, ÇãÄ¡½¼, º¼Å׸£, µðµ¥·Î µî°ú °°ÀÌ, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ¹®Á¦¸¦ ÃëÇâÀÇ ¹®Á¦·Î ¿Å°Ü °¬´Ù. ±×·¯³ª (µ¶ÀÚµéÀº ¹ÌÇÐÀÇ ¿ª»ç·ÎºÎÅÍ ±×¸®°í °æÇèÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ °øÈ÷ ¾Ë ¼ö ÀÖµíÀÌ) ÃëÇâÀ» Á¤ÀÇÇÏ·Á´Â ¾î¶² ½Ãµµµéµµ ¾î¶² ¹æ¹ýÀÌ µÉ ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç, ¿Ö ¾î¶² °ÍÀÌ ÇÑ »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô Áñ°Ì°í ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ±×·¸Áö ¾ÊÀºÁö ¶Ç´Â ±× ¹Ý´ëÀÇ °æ¿ì¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¾î¶² ¼³¸íµµ ¾øÀ¸¸ç °áÄÚ ÀÖÀ» ¼öµµ ¾ø´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ÀϹÝÀûÀ¸·Î ±âÁ¸ÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀº ½º½º·Î¸¦ Çй® — Áï, ¸¸ÀÏ ±×°ÍÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀûÀÎ ³»¿ëÀ̶ó¸é, ¿¹¼úÀÇ, ¶Ç´Â ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ, ¼Ó¼ºµé ¹× ¹ýÄ¢µéÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡¼­; ¸¸ÀÏ ±×°ÍÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¹®Á¦ ¹× ±× °¡Ä¡¸¦ °áÁ¤ÇÏ´Â ÃëÇâÀÇ ¹®Á¦¶ó¸é, ÃëÇâÀÇ ¼Ó¼ºµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡¼­, ±×¸®°í ÀÌµé ¹ýÄ¢µéÀÇ Åä´ë À§¿¡¼­ ±×°Íµé¿¡ ÀûÇÕÇÑ ÀÛǰµéÀ» ¿¹¼ú·Î ÀÎÁ¤, ±×¸®°í ÀûÇÕÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀº °ÍÀÇ °ÅºÎ  — À̶ó ĪÇÏ´Â ÁöÀûÀΠȰµ¿À¸·Î ¿¹°ßµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °Í °°Àº ¾î¶² °ÍÀ¸·Î ±¸¼ºµÇ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¸ÕÀú ¾î¶² ÀÛǰÀÌ ¿ì¸®¸¦ Áñ°Ì°Ô Çϱ⿡ À¯ÀÍÇÏ´Ù°í ÀνÄÇϰí, ´ÙÀ½À¸·Î ¾î¶² ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Áñ°Ì´Ù°í ¾Ë·ÁÁø ¸ðµç ÀÛǰµéÀ» Æ÷ÇÔÇÏ´Â °Í °°Àº ¿¹¼ú ÀÌ·ÐÀ» Á¤¸³ÇÔ¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù. ¿ì¸® ÁÖÀ§ÀÇ Àαâ ÀÖ´Â ÀÛǰµéÀÌ ¿¹¼ú (ÇÇµð¾Æ½º, ´Üü, ½¦ÀͽºÇǾî, ±«Å× µî)·Î ÀÎÁ¤µÇ´Â ±×·± ¿¹¼úÀû ±âÁØÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ¹ÌÇÐÀû ÆÇ´ÜµéÀº ¹Ýµå½Ã ÀÌ ¸ðµç ÀÛǰµéÀ» ¸Á¶óÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ̾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ¹ÌÇÐÀû ÀÛǰ¿¡¼­ ¿ì¸®°¡ ÀÌ·± ¶Ç´Â Àú·± ³»¿ëÀÌ À¯ÀÍÇÏ´Ù ³ª»Ú´Ù°í ¿©±â´Â ¾Ë·ÁÁø ¹ýÄ¢µéÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¿ì¸®°¡ È®¸³ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀû ±âÁØ¿¡ ÀÏÄ¡Çϴ°¡¿¡ ±âÃÊÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀû °¡Ä¡ ¹× Á߿伺ÀÇ ÆÇ´ÜµéÀ» ã±â¶õ ¾î·ÆÁö ¾Ê´Ù. ¸çÄ¥ Àü ³ª´Â º¸ÄÌÆ®°¡ ¾´ ¾ÆÁÖ ÈǸ¢ÇÑ Ã¥À» Àаí ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé¿¡¼­ µµ´ö¼ºÀÇ Àǹ«¸¦ ³íÇϸ鼭, ÀÛ°¡´Â ¿¹¼ú¿¡ µµ´öÀû Àǹ«¸¦ ºÎ°úÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ³ª»Ú´Ù°í ´ÜµµÁ÷ÀÔÀûÀ¸·Î ¸»Çϸç, ±× Áõ°Å·Î¼­ ¸¸ÀÏ ±×·± Àǹ«µéÀÌ ÀÎÁ¤µÈ´Ù¸é, ½¦ÀͽºÇǾîÀÇ ·Î¹Ì¿À¿Í ÁÙ¸®¿§ ¹× ±«Å×ÀÇ ºôÇ︧ ¸¶À̽ºÅÍ´Â ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ µéÁö ¸øÇÒ °ÍÀ̶ó°í ÁöÀûÇÑ´Ù. µÎ ÀÛǰ °øÈ÷ ¿¹¼úÀû ±âÁØ¿¡ ¼ÓÇϹǷΠÀǹ«´Â ¿ÇÁö ¾Ê´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ¿ì¸®´Â ÀÌµé ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀÌ ±×°Í¿¡ °É¸Âµµ·Ï Çã¿ëÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀÇ Á¤ÀǸ¦ ¹Ýµå½Ã ¹ß°ßÇØ¾ß Çϸç, µµ´ö¼ºÀÇ Àǹ« ´ë½Å¿¡, º¸ÄÌÆ®´Â ¿¹¼úÀÇ ±âÃʷμ­, Á߿伺(Bedeutungsvoiles)ÀÇ Àǹ«¸¦ ´ÜÁ¤ÇÑ´Ù.

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All existing aesthetic systems are constructed on this plan. Instead of giving a definition of true art and then, depending on whether a work fits or does not fit this definition, judging what is and what is not art, a certain series of works found pleasing for some reason by people of a certain circle is recognized as art, and a definition of art such as will include all these works is then invented. Recently I came across a remarkable confirmation of this method in a very good book, Muther¡¯s History of  Nineteenth Century Art. [39] Setting out to describe the pre-Raphaelites, the decadents and the symbolists, who have already been received into the canon of art, he not only does not dare to denounce this tendency, but makes a great effort to expand his framework so as to include in it the pre-Raphaelites, the decadents and the symbolists, who seem to him to be a legitimate reaction against the excesses of naturalism. Whatever follies may be committed in art, once they are accepted among the upper classes of our society, a theory is at once elaborated to explain and legitimize these follies, as if there had ever been epochs in history when certain exceptional circles of people had not accepted and approved of false, ugly, meaningless art, which left no traces and was completely forgotten afterwards. And we can see by what is going on now in the art of our circle what degree of meaninglessness and ugliness art can attain to, especially when, as in our time, it knows it is regarded as infallible.

±âÁ¸ÀÇ ¸ðµç ¹ÌÇРü°èµéÀº ÀÌ·± ±¸»ó À§¿¡ ¸¸µé¾î Áø´Ù. ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼úÀÇ Á¤ÀǸ¦ ºÎ¿©ÇÏ´Â ´ë½Å¿¡, ¾î¶² ÀÛǰÀÌ ÀÌ·± Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ ÀûÇÕÇÑÁö ¾ÊÀºÁö¿¡ µû¶ó¼­, ¹«¾ùÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÎÁö ¾Æ´ÑÁö ÆÇ´ÜÇϸ鼭, ¾î¶² ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ¾î¶² ÀÌÀ¯·Î Áñ°Ì´Ù°í º¸À̴ ƯÁ¤ÇÑ ÀÏ·ÃÀÇ ÀÛǰµéÀÌ ¿¹¼ú·Î ÀνĵǸç, ÀÌ ¸ðµç ÀÛǰµéÀ» Æ÷ÇÔÇÏ´Â °Í°ú °°Àº ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Á¤Àǰ¡ ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© °í¾ÈµÈ´Ù. ÃÖ±Ù ³ª´Â ¸ÓÅÍÀÇ ½Ê±¸ ¼¼±â ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¿ª»ç¶ó´Â ¸Å¿ì ÈǸ¢ÇÑ Ã¥¿¡¼­ ÀÌ·± ¹æ¹ý¿¡ ´ëÇÑ µÎµå·¯Áø È®ÁõÀ» ¿ì¿¬È÷ ¹ß°ßÇÏ¿´´Ù. ÀÌ¹Ì ¿¹¼úÀÇ ±âÁØÀ¸·Î ¼ö¿ëµÇ¾îÁø Àü-¶óÆÄ¿¤ÆÄµé, µ¥Ä«´çÆÄµé ¹× »ó¡ÆÄµéÀÇ ¹¦»ç¸¦ ½ÃÀÛÇϸ鼭, ±×´Â ÀÌ·± °æÇâÀ» °¨È÷ ºÎÀÎÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, Àü-¶óÆÄ¿¤ÆÄµé, µ¥Ä«´çÆÄµé ¹× »ó¡ÆÄµéÀ» Æ÷ÇÔÇϵµ·Ï ±×ÀÇ Ã¼°è¸¦ È®ÀåÇϰíÀÚ ¾öû³­ ÈûÀ» ½ñ´Â´Ù. ±×µéÀº ±×¿¡°Ô´Â °úµµÇÑ ÀÚ¿¬ÁÖÀÇ¿¡ ´ëÇ×ÇÏ´Â Á¤´çÇÑ ¹ÝÀÀó·³ º¸ÀÌ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ¾î¶°ÇÑ ¿ìµÐÇÔ µéÀÌ ÀÚÇàµÇµçÁö, ¿ì¸® »çȸÀÇ »ó·ù°è±Þµé »çÀÌ¿¡ ¼ö¿ëµÈ´Ù¸é, ±× ÀÌ·ÐÀº ÀÏ´Ü ÀÌ·± ¿ìµÐÇÔ µéÀ» °øµé¿©¼­ ¼³¸íÇϰí ÇÕ¹ýÈ­½Ã۴µ¥, ¸¶Ä¡ ƯÁ¤ÇÑ ¿¹¿ÜÀû ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ À§¼±ÀûÀ̸ç ÃßÇϰí ÀÇ¹Ì ¾ø´Â ¿¹¼úÀ» ¼ö¿ëÇÏ¿© ¿ëÀÎÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò¾úÀ¸¸ç, ±× ÈÄ¿¡ ±× ¿¹¼úÀº ¾Æ¹«·± ÈçÀûµéÀ» ³²±âÁö ¾Ê°í ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ÀØÇôÁ³´ø ½ÃÀýµéÀÌ¶óµµ ÀÖ¾ú´ø °Íó·³ ÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ì¸® ¹üÁÖÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ Áö±Ý ÁøÇàµÇ°í ÀÖ´Â °Í¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¾î´À Á¤µµÀÇ ¹«ÀǹÌÇÔ ¹× ÃßÇÔ±îÁö µµ´ÞÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´ÂÁö ƯÈ÷ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ½Ã´ë¿¡¼­Ã³·³ ±×°ÍÀÌ ¹«·ùÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁø´Ù°í ¾Ë°í ÀÖ´Â ¶§¿¡´Â ¸¦ ±ú´ÞÀ» ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù.

Thus the theory of art based on beauty, expounded by aesthetics and professed in vague outlines by the public, is nothing other than the recognition as good of what has been and is found pleasing by us — that is, by a certain circle of people.

±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ¹ÙÅÁÀ¸·Î ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÌ·ÐÀº, ¹ÌÇп¡ ÀÇÇØ ÇØ¼®µÇ°í ´ëÁß¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¸ðÈ£ÇÑ ¿äÁ¡µé·Î °ø¾ðµÇ¾î, ¿ÀÁ÷ ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô — Áï, ƯÁ¤ÇÑ ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô — °ú°Å ¹× ÇöÀç¿¡ Áñ°Ì°Ô º¸ÀÌ´Â °Í¿¡ ´ëÇÑ À¯ÀÍÇÏ´Ù´Â ÀνÄÀÏ »ÓÀÌ´Ù.

In order to define any human activity, one must understand its meaning and significance. And in order to understand the meaning and significance of any human activity, it is necessary first of all to examine this activity in itself, as dependent on its own causes and effects, and not with regard to the pleasure we receive from it.

¾î¶² Àΰ£Àû Ȱµ¿À» Á¤ÀÇÇϱâ À§ÇØ, ¿ì¸®´Â ±× ÀÇ¹Ì¿Í Á߿伺À» ±ú´Þ¾Æ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¾î¶² Àΰ£Àû Ȱµ¿ÀÇ ÀÇ¹Ì¿Í Á߿伺À» ±ú´Ý±â À§ÇØ, ¿ì¸®°¡ ±×·ÎºÎÅÍ ¹Þ´Â Äè¶ô¿¡ µû¶ó¼­°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±× ÀÚüÀÇ ¿øÀÎµé ¹× °á°úµé¿¡ µû¶ó¼­, ¹«¾ùº¸´Ù ÀÌ·± Ȱµ¿ ÀÚü¸¦ °ËÅäÇÔÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÏ´Ù.

But if we accept that the aim of any activity is merely our own pleasure, and define it merely by that pleasure, then this definition will obviously be false. That is what has happened with the definition of art. For, in analysing the question of food, it would not occur to anyone to see the significance of food in the pleasure we derive from eating it. Everyone understands that the satisfaction of our taste can in no way serve as a basis for defining the merits of food, and that we therefore have no right to suppose that dinners with cayenne pepper, Limburger cheese, alcohol and so on, to which we are accustomed and which we like, represent the best human food.

±×·¯³ª ¸¸ÀÏ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¾î¶² Ȱµ¿ÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀÌ ´Ü¼øÈ÷ ¿ì¸® ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ Äè¶ôÀÓÀ» ¹Þ¾ÆµéÀ̸ç, ´Ü¼øÈ÷ ±× °°Àº Äè¶ô¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ±×°ÍÀ» Á¤ÀÇÇÑ´Ù¸é, ÀÌ·± Á¤ÀÇ´Â ¸í¹éÈ÷ À§¼±ÀÏ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. À̰ÍÀÌ ¹Ù·Î ¿¹¼úÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ ¹ß»ýÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé, À½½Ä¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¹®Á¦¸¦ ºÐ¼®ÇÔ¿¡¼­, ¿ì¸®°¡ ±×°ÍÀ» ¸ÔÀ½À¸·Î½á ¾ò¾î³»´Â Äè¶ô ¾È¿¡¼­ À½½ÄÀÇ Á߿伺À» ±ú´Ý´Â ÀÏÀº ¾Æ¹«¿¡°Ôµµ ÀϾÁö ¾ÊÀ» °ÍÀ̱⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ¿ì¸® ÃëÇâÀÇ ¸¸Á·ÀÌ °áÄÚ À½½ÄÀÇ °¡Ä¡µéÀ» Á¤ÀÇÇÔ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±âÁØÀ¸·Î ÀÛ¿ëÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù´Â °Í, ±×¸®°í ¿ì¸®´Â ±×·¯¹Ç·Î °íÃß°¡ µç À½½Ä, ¸²¹ö°Å Ä¡Áî, ¼ú µîÀÌ, À̰͵éÀº ¿ì¸®°¡ Àͼ÷Çϸç ÁÁ¾ÆÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, Àΰ£¿¡°Ô °¡Àå ÁÁÀº À½½ÄÀ» ´ëÇ¥ÇÑ´Ù°í ÁÖÀåÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ¾î¶² ±Ç¸®µµ ¾ø´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÑ´Ù.

In just the same way, beauty, or that which pleases us, can in no way serve as the basis for defining art, and a series of objects that give us pleasure can in no way be an example of what art should be.

¶È°°Àº ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº, ȤÀº ¿ì¸®¸¦ Áñ°Ì°Ô ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº, °áÄÚ ¿¹¼úÀ» Á¤ÀÇÇÔ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±Ù°Å·Î ÀÛ¿ëÇÒ ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç, ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô Äè¶ôÀ» ÁÖ´Â ÀÏ·ÃÀÇ ¹°Ã¼µéÀÌ °áÄÚ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀ̾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù´Â ÀϷʰ¡ µÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù.

To see the aim and purpose of art in the pleasure we derive from it is the same as to ascribe the aim and significance of food to the pleasure we derive from eating it, as is done by people who stand at the lowest level of moral development (savages, for instance).

¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀû°ú ¸ñÇ¥¸¦ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¾ò´Â Äè¶ô¿¡¼­ ±ú´Ý°íÀÚ ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº À½½ÄÀÇ ¸ñÀû°ú Á߿伺À» ¿ì¸®°¡ ±×°ÍÀ» ¸ÔÀ½À¸·Î½á ¾ò´Â Äè¶ôÀ¸·Î µ¹¸®´Â °Í°ú ¸¶Âù°¡Áö¸ç, ÀÌ´Â °¡Àå ³·Àº µµ´öÀû ¹ßÀü ´Ü°è¿¡ ¼­ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷µé(¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ¾ß¸¸Àεé)¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÇàÇØÁø´Ù.

Just as people who think that the aim and purpose of food is pleasure cannot perceive the true meaning of eating, so people who think that the aim of art is pleasure cannot know its meaning and purpose, because they ascribe to an activity which has meaning in connection with other phenomena of life the false and exclusive aim of pleasure. People understand that the meaning of eating is the nourishment of the body only when they cease to consider pleasure the aim of this activity. So it is with art. People will understand the meaning of art only when they cease to regard beauty — that is, pleasure — as the aim of this activity. To recognize beauty, or the certain kind of pleasure to be derived from art, as the aim of art, not only does not contribute to defining what art is, but, on the contrary, by transferring the question to a realm quite alien to art — to metaphysical, psychological, physiological, and even historical discussions of why such-and-such a work is pleasing to some, and such-and-such is not pleasing, or is pleasing to others — makes that definition impossible. And just as discussing why one person likes pears and another meat in no way helps to define what the essence of nourishment is, so, too, the resolution of questions of taste in art (to which all discussions of art involuntarily come down) not only does not contribute to understanding what makes up that particular human activity which we call art, but makes that understanding completely impossible.

À½½ÄÀÇ ¸ñÀû°ú ¸ñÇ¥°¡ Äè¶ôÀ̶ó°í »ý°¢ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀº ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ Ãë½ÄÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ ±ú´ÝÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â °Íó·³, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀÌ Äè¶ôÀ̶ó°í »ý°¢ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀº ±× ÀÇ¹Ì¿Í ¸ñÇ¥¸¦ ¸ð¸¥´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×µéÀº »îÀÇ ´Ù¸¥ Çö»óµé¿¡ °ü°èµÈ Àǹ̸¦ Áö´Ï´Â Ȱµ¿¿¡ Äè¶ôÀ̶ó´Â À§¼±Àû ¹èŸÀû ¸ñÀûÀ» ºÎ¿©Çϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. »ç¶÷µéÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ Äè¶ôÀÌ ÀÌ·± Ȱµ¿ÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀ̶ó°í ¿©±èÀ» ¸ØÃâ ¶§¿¡ Ãë½ÄÀÇ Àǹ̰¡ ½Åü¸¦ À§ÇÑ ¾çºÐÀÓÀ» ±ú´Ý´Â´Ù. ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­µµ ¸¶Âù°¡Áö´Ù. »ç¶÷µéÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò — Áï, Äè¶ô — À» ÀÌ·± Ȱµ¿ÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀ¸·Î ¿©±èÀ» ¸ØÃâ ¶§¿¡ ¿¹¼úÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ ±ú´ÞÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò, ¶Ç´Â ¾î¶² Á¾·ùÀÇ Äè¶ôÀÌ, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀ¸·Î¼­, ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ºñ·ÔµÈ´Ù°í ÀνÄÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¿¹¼úÀº ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡¸¦ Á¤ÀÇÇÔ¿¡ ±â¿©ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ÀÌ¿Í ¹Ý´ë·Î, ¹®Á¦¸¦ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ¸Å¿ì ÀÌÁúÀûÀÎ ¿µ¿ª —  ¿Ö ±×·¸°í ±×·± ÀÛǰÀÌ ¾î¶² »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô Áñ°Å¿î °ÍÀÎÁö, ±×¸®°í ±×·¸°í ±×·± °ÍÀº Áñ°ÌÁö ¾ÊÀºÁö, ȤÀº ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Áñ°Å¿îÁö¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀû, ½É¸®ÇÐÀû, »ý¸®ÇÐÀû, ¹× ½ÉÁö¾î ¿ª»çÀû ³íÀÇµé — À¸·Î Àüµµ½ÃÅ´À¸·Î½á ±× °°Àº Á¤ÀǸ¦ ºÒ°¡´ÉÇÏ°Ô ¸¸µç´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¿Ö ÇÑ »ç¶÷Àº ¹è¸¦ ÁÁ¾ÆÇÏ°í ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷Àº °í±â¸¦ ÁÁ¾ÆÇϴ°¡¸¦ ³íÀÇÇÔÀÌ ¾çºÐÀÇ º»ÁúÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡¸¦ Á¤ÀÇÇϴµ¥ ¾Æ¹«·± µµ¿òÀÌ µÇÁö ¾Ê´Â °Í°ú ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î, ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ (ÀǵµÇÏÁö ¾Ê°Ô ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¸ðµç °ÍµéÀÌ ±Í°áµÇ´Â) ÃëÇâÀÇ ¹®Á¦µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÇØ´äÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀÌ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó°í ºÎ¸£´Â Àΰ£ÀÇ Æ¯Á¤ÇÑ È°µ¿À» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´ÂÁö ÀÌÇØÇÔ¿¡ ±â¿©ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×·± ÀÌÇØ¸¦ ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ºÒ°¡´ÉÇÏ°Ô ¸¸µç´Ù.

To the question, what is this art to which are offered in sacrifice the labors of millions of people, the very lives of people, and even morality, the existing aesthetic systems give answers all of which come down to saying that the aim of art is beauty, and that beauty is known by the pleasure it gives, and that the pleasure given by art is a good and important thing. That is, that pleasure is good because it is pleasure. So that what is considered the definition of art is not a definition of art at all, but is only a ruse to justify those sacrifices which are offered by people in the name of this supposed art, as well as the egoistic pleasure and immorality of existing art. And therefore, strange as it is to say, despite the mountains of books written on art, no precise definition of art has yet been made. The reason for this is that the concept of beauty has been placed at the foundation of the concept of art.

¿¹¼úÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀ̱⿡ ¼ö¹é¸¸ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ³ëµ¿µéÀÌ, »ç¶÷µéÀÇ »îµé ¸¶Àú, ±×¸®°í ½ÉÁö¾î »ý¸í±îÁö ¹ÙÃÄÁö´Â°¡¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Áú¹®¿¡, ±âÁ¸ÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀû ü°èµéÀÌ ÁÖ´Â ´ë´äµéÀº ¸ðµÎ ÀÌ·¸°Ô ¸»Çϰí ÀÖ´Ù: ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ±× ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ±×°ÍÀÌ ÁÖ´Â Äè¶ôÀ¸·Î ¾Ë·ÁÁö¸ç, ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÁÖ¾îÁø Äè¶ôÀº À¯ÀÍÇϸç Áß¿äÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. Áï, Äè¶ôÀº À¯ÀÍÇÏ´Ù ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀÌ Äè¶ôÀ̱⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ¿¹¼úÀÇ Á¤ÀǶó°í ¿©°ÜÁö´Â °ÍÀº ÀüÇô ¿¹¼úÀÇ Á¤Àǰ¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ÀÌ °°Àº ¼ÒÀ§ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó´Â À̸§À¸·Î »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Á¦°øµÇ´Â ±× °°Àº Èñ»ýµéÀ» ÇÕ¸®È­ÇÏ´Â °è·«ÀÏ »ÓÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ÀÌ»óÇÑ ¸»ÀÌÁö¸¸, ¿¹¼ú¿¡ °üÇØ ¾²¿©Áø »ê´õ¹Ì ¸¸Å­ÀÇ Ã¥µé¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí, ¾ÆÁ÷µµ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Á¤È®ÇÑ Á¤Àǰ¡ ³»·ÁÁöÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù. À̰Ϳ¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌÀ¯´Â ¹Ù·Î ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÇ °³³äÀ̶ó´Â Åä´ë À§¿¡ ³õ¿©Á³´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
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What then is art, if we discard the all-confusing concept of beauty? The latest and most comprehensible definitions of art, independent of the concept of beauty, would be the following: art is an activity already emerging in the animal kingdom out of sexuality and a propensity for play (Schiller, Darwin, Spencer), accompanied by a pleasant excitation of nervous energy (Grant Alien). This is the physiological-evolutionary definition. Or, art is an external manifestation, by means of lines, colours, gestures, sounds, or words, of emotions experienced by man (Véron). This is the practical definition. Or, according to Sully¡¯s most recent definition, art is the production of some permanent object or passing action, which is fitted not only to supply an active enjoyment to the producer, but to convey a pleasurable impression to a number of spectators or listeners, quite apart from any personal advantage to be derived from it¡¯. [40]

¿ì¸®°¡ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¸ðµç È¥¶õ½º·± °³³äÀ» ¹ö¸®°í ³ª¸é, ±×·¯¸é ¹«¾ùÀÌ  ¿¹¼úÀΰ¡? °¡Àå ÃÖ±ÙÀÇ °¡Àå ¼³µæ·Â ÀÖ´Â ¿¹¼úÀÇ Á¤ÀǵéÀº, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀ» Á¦¿ÜÇÑ´Ù¸é, ´ÙÀ½°ú °°À» °ÍÀÌ´Ù: ¿¹¼úÀº µ¿¹°ÀÇ ¿Õ±¹¿¡¼­ ¼º ´É·Â ¹× ³îÀÌ ¼ºÇâÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ÀÌ¹Ì ³ªÅ¸³­ Ȱµ¿À¸·Î (½¯·¯, ´ÙÀ©, ½ºÆæ¼­), Ȱ·Â ÀÖ´Â ÈûÀÇ À¯ÄèÇÑ ÀÚ±ØÀ» µ¿¹ÝÇÑ´Ù (±×·£Æ® ¿¡Àϸ®¾ð). À̰ÍÀº »ý¸®-ÁøÈ­Àû Á¤ÀÇÀÌ´Ù. ¶Ç´Â, ¿¹¼úÀº ¼±µé, »ö»óµé, Èä³»µé, ¼Ò¸®µé, ¶Ç´Â ´Ü¾îµé·Î¼­, »ç¶÷¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °æÇèµÇ´Â °¨Á¤µéÀÇ ¿ÜÀûÀΠǥÇöÀÌ´Ù (º£·Ð). À̰ÍÀº ½Ç¿ëÀû Á¤ÀÇÀÌ´Ù. ¶Ç´Â, ¼ú¸®ÀÇ °¡Àå ÃÖ±ÙÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ¿¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿¹¼úÀº ¾î¶² ¿µ±¸Àû ¹°Ã¼ ¶Ç´Â ½ºÃİ¡´Â ÇàÀ§ÀÇ ¿¬Ãâ·Î¼­, ÀÌ ÇàÀ§´Â ¿¬ÃâÀÚ¿¡°Ô Àû±ØÀûÀÎ Áñ°Å¿òÀ» Á¦°øÇÒ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¼ö¸¹Àº °ü¶÷ÀÚ ¶Ç´Â ûÁߵ鿡°Ô À¯ÄèÇÑ ÀλóÀ» Àü´ÞÇØÁÖ¸ç, ±×°ÍÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ÆÄ»ýµÇ´Â ¾î¶² °³ÀÎÀû ÀÌÀͰú´Â ÀüÇô º°°³ÀÌ´Ù.

In spite of the superiority of these definitions over metaphysical definitions based on the concept of beauty, they are still far from precise. The first, physiological-evolutionary definition is imprecise because it speaks not of the activity that constitutes the essence of art, but of the origin of art. The definition by physiological impact upon man¡¯s organism is imprecise because many other activities of man can fit into it as well, as occurs in the new aesthetic theories which reckon as art the making of beautiful clothing and pleasant perfumes and even foods. The practical definition which supposes art to be the expression of emotions is imprecise because a man may express his emotions by means of lines, colours, sounds and words without affecting others by it, and the expression will then not be art.

¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀ» Åä´ë·Î ÇÏ´Â ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀû Á¤Àǵ鿡 ´ëÇÑ À̵é Á¤ÀǵéÀÇ ¿ì¿ù¼º¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí, À̵鵵 ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ÀüÇô Á¤È®ÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Ù. ù°, »ý¸®-ÁøÈ­Àû Á¤ÀÇ´Â ºÎÁ¤È®ÇÏ´Ù ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀº ¿¹¼úÀÇ º»ÁúÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â ÇàÀ§°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ¿¹¼úÀÇ ±â¿ø¿¡ ´ëÇØ À̾߱âÇϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. »ç¶÷ÀÇ ±â°ü¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ý¸®ÇÐÀûÀÎ ¿µÇâÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ´Â ºÎÁ¤È®ÇÏ´Ù ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é »ç¶÷ÀÇ ´Ù¸¥ ¸¹Àº ÇàÀ§µéµµ ±× ¾È¿¡ Æ÷Ç﵃ ¼ö Àֱ⠶§¹®À̸ç, ÀÌ·¯ÇÔÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ¿Ê ¹× »óÄèÇÑ Çâ¼öµé ¹× ½ÉÁö¾î À½½ÄµéÀ» ¸¸µå´Â °Íµµ ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©±â´Â »õ·Î¿î ¹ÌÇÐÀû À̷е鿡¼­ ÀϾ°í Àֱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀÌ °¨Á¤µéÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÔÀ̶ó°í ¿©±â´Â ½Ç¿ëÀû Á¤ÀÇ´Â ºÎÁ¤È®ÇÏ´Ù ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é »ç¶÷Àº ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °¨Á¤µéÀ» ¼±µé, »ö»óµé, ¼Ò¸®µé ¹× ¸»µéÀ» ÀÌ¿ëÇÏ¿© Ç¥ÇöÇϸç, ±×·¸´Ù¸é ±× Ç¥ÇöµéÀº ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

The third definition, by Sully, is imprecise because under the production of objects that afford pleasure to the producer and a pleasant impression to the spectators or listeners, apart from any advantage to them, may be included the performance of magic tricks, gymnastic exercises and other activities which are not art, and, on the other hand, many objects that produce an unpleasant impression, as, for instance, a gloomy, cruel scene in a poetic description or in the theatre, are unquestionably works of art.

¼ú¸®¿¡ ÀÇÇÑ ¼¼ ¹øÂ°ÀÇ Á¤ÀÇ´Â ºÎÁ¤È®ÇÏ´Ù ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ¿¬ÃâÀÚ¿¡°Ô Áñ°Å¿òÀ» ±×¸®°í °ü¶÷ÀÚµé ¶Ç´Â Ã»Áߵ鿡°Ô, ±×µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¾î¶² ÀÌÀͰú´Â º°µµ·Î, Áñ°Å¿î ÀλóÀ» ÁÖ´Â ¹°Ã¼µéÀ» ¿¬ÃâÇÔ¿¡´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¾Æ´Ñ ¸¶¼ú ¹¦±âÀÇ ½Ã¿¬µé, üÁ¶ ¿îµ¿µé ¹× ±âŸ Ȱµ¿µéÀÌ Æ÷Ç﵃ °ÍÀ̸ç, ´Ù¸¥ ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î, ºÒÄèÇÑ ÀλóÀ» ÁÖ´Â, ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ½ÃÀû ¹¦»ç¿¡¼­ ¶Ç´Â ±ØÀå¿¡¼­, ħ¿ïÇϰí, ÀÜÀÎÇÑ Àå¸éÀ» ¿¬ÃâÇÏ´Â ¹°Ã¼µéµµ Àǹ®ÀÇ ¿©Áö ¾øÀÌ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀ̱⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

The imprecision of all these definitions proceeds from the fact that in all of them, just as in the metaphysical definitions, the aim of art is located in the pleasure we derive from it, and not in its purpose in the life of man and of mankind.

ÀÌ ¸ðµç Á¤ÀǵéÀÇ ºÎÁ¤È®ÇÔÀº ±×µé ¸ðµÎ¿¡¼­, ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀû Á¤Àǵ鿡¼­¿Í ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀÌ ±×·ÎºÎÅÍ ¿ì¸®°¡ À̲ø¾î ³»´Â Äè¶ô¿¡ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, »ç¶÷ÀÇ ±×¸®°í ÀηùÀÇ »î ¾È¿¡¼­ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀû¿¡ ÀÖÁö ¾Ê´Ù´Â »ç½Ç¿¡¼­ ºñ·ÔµÇ±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

In order to define art precisely, one must first of all cease looking at it as a means of pleasure and consider it as one of the conditions of human life. Considering art in this way, we cannot fail to see that art is a means of communion among people.

¿¹¼úÀ» Á¤È®È÷ Á¤ÀÇÇϱâ À§Çؼ­´Â, ¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ ¿¹¼úÀ» Äè¶ôÀÇ ¼ö´ÜÀ¸·Î º¸´Â °ÍÀ» ÁßÁöÇϰí Àΰ£ÀÇ »îÀÇ Á¶°Çµé ÁßÀÇ Çϳª·Î ¿©°Ü¾ß¸¸ ÇÑ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀ» ÀÌ·¸°Ô »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù¸é, ¿ì¸®´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ »ç¶÷µé »çÀÌÀÇ ±³Á¦ÀÇ ¼ö´ÜÀÓÀ» ±ú´ÝÁö ¾ÊÀ» ¼ö ¾ø´Ù.

Every work of art results in the one who receives it entering into a certain kind of communion with the one who produced or is producing the art, and with all those who, simultaneously with him, before him, or after him, have received or will receive the same artistic impression.

¸ðµç ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀº ±×°ÍÀ» ¹Þ¾Æ µéÀÌ´Â »ç¶÷ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»°Å³ª ³»°í ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷ÀÌ, ±×¸®°í µ¿½Ã¿¡ ±×¿Í ÇÔ²², ±×ÀÇ ¾Õ¿¡, ȤÀº ±×ÀÇ µÚ¿¡¼­, µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀû ÀλóÀ» ¹Þ¾Ò°Å³ª ¹ÞÀ» ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀÌ, ƯÁ¤ÇÑ Á¾·ùÀÇ ±³Á¦¿¡ µé¾î°¨À¸·Î ±Í°áµÈ´Ù.

As the word which conveys men¡¯s thoughts and experiences serves to unite people, so art serves in exactly the same way. The peculiarity of this means of communion, which distinguishes it from communion by means of the word, is that through the word a man conveys his thoughts to another, while through art people convey their feelings to each other.

»ç¶÷µéÀÇ »ý°¢µé ¹× °æÇèµéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¸»ÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀ» ¿¬ÇÕÇϵíÀÌ, ¿¹¼úµµ Á¤È®È÷ ¶È°°ÀÌ ÀÛ¿ëÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ °°Àº ±³Á¦ ¼ö´ÜÀÇ Æ¯Â¡Àº, ¸»À» ÀÌ¿ëÇÑ ±³Á¦¿Í ±¸º°µÇ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, ¸»À» ÅëÇÏ¿© ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ »ý°¢µéÀ» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞÇϰí, ¹Ý¸é¿¡ ¿¹¼úÀ» ÅëÇØ¼­ »ç¶÷µéÀº ÀڽŵéÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» ¼­·Î¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞÇÑ´Ù.

The activity of art is based on the fact that man, as he receives through hearing or sight the expressions of another man¡¯s feelings, is capable of experiencing the same feelings as the man who expresses them.

¿¹¼ú Ȱµ¿Àº »ç¶÷ÀÌ, µè±â³ª º¸±â¸¦ ÅëÇØ¼­ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷ÀÇ ´À³¦µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Ç¥ÇöÀ» ¹Þ¾ÆµéÀÌ´Â °Íó·³, ±×°ÍµéÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷°ú µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ´À³¦µéÀ» °æÇèÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â »ç½Ç¿¡ ¹ÙÅÁÀ» µÎ°í ÀÖ´Ù.

The simplest example: a man laughs, and another man feels merry; he weeps, and the man who hears this weeping feels sad; a man is excited, annoyed, and another looking at him gets into the same state. With his movements, the sounds of his voice, a man displays cheerfulness, determination, or, on the contrary, dejection, calm — and this mood is communicated to others. A man suffers, expressing his suffering in moans and convulsions — and this suffering is communicated to others; a man displays his feeling of admiration, awe, fear, respect for certain objects, persons, phenomena — and other people become infected, experience the same feelings of admiration, awe, fear, respect for the same objects, persons or phenomena.

°¡Àå ´Ü¼øÇÑ ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é: ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ ¿ô´Â´Ù, ±×¸®°í ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷Àº Áñ°Å¿òÀ» ´À³¤´Ù; ±×°¡ ¿î´Ù, ±×¸®°í ÀÌ ¿ïÀ½À» µè´Â »ç¶÷Àº ½½ÇÄÀ» ´À³¤´Ù; ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ ÈïºÐÇϰí È­¸¦ ³½´Ù, ±×¸®°í ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷Àº ±×µé ¹Ù¶óº¸°í¼­ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ »óÅ¿¡ Á¢¾îµç´Ù. ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¿òÁ÷ÀÓµé, ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¸ñ¼Ò¸®µéÀ» °¡Áö°í, »ç¶÷Àº ÄèȰÇÔ, °á½ÉÀ», ȤÀº, Á¤¹Ý´ë·Î, ³«´ã, °í¿äÇÔÀ» µå·¯³½´Ù — ±×¸®°í ÀÌ·± ±âºÐÀº ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀüÇØÁø´Ù. ¾î¶² »ç¶÷ÀÌ °íÅëÀ» °Þ´Â´Ù, ½ÅÀ½¼Ò¸®¿Í °æ·ÃÀ¸·Î ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °íÅëÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÑ´Ù — ±×¸®°í ÀÌ·± °íÅëÀº ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞµÈ´Ù; ¾î¶² »ç¶÷ÀÌ Æ¯Á¤ÇÑ ¹°Ã¼µé, »ç¶÷µé, Çö»óµé¿¡ Âù¹Ì, °æ¿Ü, °øÆ÷, Á¸°æÀÇ °¨Á¤À» ³ªÅ¸³½´Ù — ±×¸®°í ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀº Àü¿°µÇ¾î¼­, µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¹°Ã¼µé, »ç¶÷µé, ȤÀº Çö»óµé¿¡, µ¿ÀÏÇÑ Âù¹Ì, °æ¿Ü, °øÆ÷, Á¸°æÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» °æÇèÇÑ´Ù.

On this capacity of people to be infected by the feelings of other people, the activity of art is based.

´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ °¨Á¤µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ Àü¿°µÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ÀÌ °°Àº ´É·Â À§¿¡, ¿¹¼ú Ȱµ¿ÀÌ ¹ÙÅÁÀ» µÎ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

If a man infects another or others directly by his look or by the sounds he produces at the moment he experiences a feeling, if he makes someone yawn when he himself feels like yawning, or laugh, or cry, when he himself laughs or cries over something, or suffer when he himself suffers, this is not yet art.

¸¸ÀÏ ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ ±×°¡ ¾î¶² °¨Á¤À» °æÇèÇÏ´Â ¼ø°£¿¡ ¸¸µé¾î ³»´Â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¿Ü¸ð ȤÀº ¼Ò¸®µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ »ó´ë¹æ ȤÀº ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀ» Àü¿°½ÃŲ´Ù¸é, ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ ÇÏǰÇÏ°í ½ÍÀ» ¶§ ´©±º°¡¸¦ ÇÏǰÇÏ°Ô Çϰųª, ȤÀº ±× ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ ¾î¶² °ÍÀ» º¸°í ¿ô°í ¿ï ¶§ ¿ô°í ¿ï°Ô Çϰųª, ȤÀº ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ °íÅë ¹ÞÀ» ¶§ °íÅë ¹Þ°Ô ÇÑ´Ù¸é, À̰ÍÀº ¾ÆÁ÷ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù.

Art begins when a man, with the purpose of communicating to other people a feeling he once experienced, calls it up again within himself and expresses it by certain external signs.

¿¹¼úÀº ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ, ±×°¡ ¿¹Àü¿¡ ´À³¤ °¨Á¤À» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞÇÏ·Á´Â ¸ñÀûÀ¸·Î, ±×°ÍÀ» ÀڽŠ¾È¿¡ ´Ù½Ã ºÒ·¯ ³»¾î ¾î¶² ¿ÜÀûÀÎ ½ÅÈ£µé·Î ±×°ÍÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÒ ¶§ ½ÃÀ۵ȴÙ.

Thus, the simplest case: a boy who once experienced fear, let us say, on encountering a wolf, tells about this encounter and, to call up in others the feeling he experienced, describes himself, his state of mind before the encounter, the surroundings, the forest, his carelessness, and then the look of the wolf, its movements, the distance between the wolf and himself, and so on. All this — if as he tells the story the boy relives the feeling he experienced, infects his listeners, makes them relive all that the narrator lived through — is art. Even if the boy had not seen a wolf, but had often been afraid of seeing one, and, wishing to call up in others the feeling he experienced, invented the encounter with the wolf, telling it in such a way that through his narrative he called up in his listeners the same feeling he experienced in imagining the wolf — this, too, is art. In just the same way, it is art if a man, having experienced in reality or in imagination the horror of suffering or the delight of pleasure, expresses these feelings on canvas or in marble in such a way that others are infected by them. And in just the same way, it will be art if a man has experienced or imagined the feelings of merriment, joy, sadness, despair, cheerfulness, dejection, and the transitions between these feelings, and expresses them in sounds so that listeners are infected by them and experience them in the same way as he has, experienced them.

¡¡

±×¸®ÇÏ¿©, °¡Àå ´Ü¼øÇÑ °æ¿ì: ÀÌÀü¿¡, À̸¦Å׸é, ´Á´ë¿Í Á¶¿ìÇÑ µÎ·Á¿òÀ» °æÇèÇÑ ÇÑ ¼Ò³âÀÌ ÀÌ·± Á¶¿ì¿¡ ´ëÇÏ ¸»Çϸç, ±×°¡ °æÇèÇÑ ´À³¦À» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé ¾È¿¡¼­ ºÒ·¯¿À±â À§ÇØ, ÀÚ½Å, Á¶¿ì ÀÌÀüÀÇ Á¤½Å»óÅÂ, ÁÖº¯ »óȲµé, ½£, ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ºÎÁÖÀÇÇÔ, ±×¸®°í ³ª¼­ ´Á´ëÀÇ ¸ð½À, µ¿ÀÛµé, ´Á´ë¿Í ÀڽŰúÀÇ °Å¸®,µîÀ» ¹¦»çÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ÍÀº — ¸¸ÀÏ ¼Ò³âÀÌ À̾߱⸦ Çϸ鼭 ±×°¡ °æÇèÇÑ ´À³¦À» µÇ»ì¸®¸ç, ±×ÀÇ Ã»Áߵ鿡°Ô Àü¿°½Ã۸ç, È­ÀÚ°¡ °Þ¾ú´ø ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ±×µé·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý üÇèÇϵµ·Ï ¸¸µç´Ù¸é — ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù. ½ÉÁö¾î ±× ¼Ò³âÀÌ ´Á´ë¸¦ º¸Áö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù ÇÏ´õ¶óµµ ´Á´ë º¸´Â °ÍÀ» µÎ·Á¿ö ÇßÀ¸¸ç, ±×°¡ °æÇèÇÑ ´À³¦À» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé ¾È¿¡ ºÒ·¯ ÀÏÀ¸Å°±â¸¦ ¹Ù¶ó¸é¼­, ´Á´ë¿ÍÀÇ Á¶¿ì¸¦ ²Ù¸ç³»°í, ±×°ÍµéÀ» ¸»Çϸ鼭 ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ À̾߱⸦ ÅëÇØ ûÁßµé ¾È¿¡ ±×°¡ ´Á´ë¸¦ »ó»óÇÏ¸ç °æÇèÇÑ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ´À³¦À» ºÒ·¯ ÀÏÀ¸Å²´Ù¸é — ÀÌ°Í ¿ª½Ã ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù. ¹Ù·Î ¶È°°Àº ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î, ¸¸ÀÏ ¾î¶² »ç¶÷ÀÌ, Çö½ÇÀ̳ª »ó»ó¿¡¼­ °íÅëÀÇ ÀüÀ² ȤÀº Äè¶ôÀÇ ±â»ÝÀ» °æÇèÇÏ°í¼­, ÀÌ·± ´À³¦µéÀ» È­ÆøÀ̳ª ´ë¸®¼®¿¡ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×°Íµé·Î Àü¿°µÉ ¼ö ÀÖµµ·Ï Ç¥ÇöÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×°ÍÀº ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í Á¤È®È÷ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î, ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ È¯Èñ, ±â»Ý, ½½ÇÄ, Àý¸Á, À¯ÄèÇÔ, ³«´ã, ±×¸®°í ÀÌ·± °¨Á¤µé »çÀÌÀÇ ÀüÀ̵éÀ» °æÇèÇ߰ųª »ó»óÇßÀ¸¸ç, ±×°ÍµéÀ» ¼Ò¸®·Î Ç¥ÇöÇÏ¿© ûÁßµéÀÌ ±×°Íµé¿¡ Àü¿°µÇ°í ±×°¡ ±×°ÍµéÀ» °æÇèÇß´ø °Í°ú µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î °æÇèÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×°ÍÀº ¿¹¼úÀÏ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

Feelings, the most diverse, very strong and very weak, very significant and very worthless, very bad and very good, if only they infect the reader, the spectator, the listener, constitute the subject of art. The feeling of self-denial and submission to fate or God portrayed in a drama; the raptures of lovers described in a novel; a feeling of sensuousness depicted in a painting; the briskness conveyed by a triumphal march in music; the gaiety evoked by a dance; the comicality caused by a funny anecdote; the feeling of peace conveyed by an evening landscape or a lulling song — all this is art.

´À³¦µéÀº, °¡Àå ´Ù¾çÇÑ, ¸Å¿ì °­ÇÏ°í ¸Å¿ì ¾àÇϸç, ¸Å¿ì Áß¿äÇÏ°í ¸Å¿ì ¹«°¡Ä¡Çϸç, ¸Å¿ì ³ª»Ú°í ¸Å¿ì À¯ÀÍÇϵç, ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×°ÍµéÀÌ µ¶ÀÚ, °ü¶÷ÀÚ, ûÁßÀ» Àü¿°½ÃŲ´Ù¸é, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÁÖÁ¦¸¦ ±¸¼ºÇÑ´Ù. µå¶ó¸¶¿¡¼­ ±×·ÁÁö´Â ¿î¸í ȤÀº ½Å ¾Õ¿¡¼­ÀÇ Àڱ⠺ÎÁ¤ ¹× º¹Á¾ÀÇ ´À³¦; ¼Ò¼³¿¡¼­ ¹¦»çµÈ ¿¬ÀεéÀÇ È¯Èñµé; ½Â¸®ÀÇ ÇàÁø À½¾Ç¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Àü´ÞµÈ Ȱ±âÂü; ÃãÀ¸·Î À¯¹ßµÇ´Â ¸í¶ûÇÔ; Àç¹ÌÀÖ´Â ÀÏÈ­·Î ¾ß±âµÇ´Â Àͻ콺·¯¿ò; Àú³á dz°æ ȤÀº ÀÚÀå°¡¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Àü´ÞµÇ´Â ÆòÈ­½º·± ´À³¦ — ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ÍÀº ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù

Once the spectators or listeners are infected by the same feeling the author has experienced, this is art.

±¸°æ²ÛµéÀ̳ª ûÁßµéÀÌ ÀÛ°¡°¡ °æÇèÇÑ °Í°ú ¶È°°Àº ´À³¦¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Àü¿°µÇ¸é, À̰ÍÀº ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù.

To call up in oneself a feeling once experienced and, having called it up, to convey it by means of movements, lines, colors, sounds, images expressed in words, so that others experience the same feeling — in this consists the activity of art. Art is that human activity which consists in one man¡¯s consciously conveying to others, by certain external signs, the feelings he has experienced, and in others being infected by those feelings and also experiencing them.

ÀÌÀü¿¡ °æÇèÇÑ ´À³¦À» ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ³»ºÎ¿¡ ºÒ·¯ ÀÏÀ¸Å°´Â °Í, ±×°ÍÀ» ºÒ·¯ ³½ ´ÙÀ½, µ¿ÀÛµé, ¼±µé, »ö»óµé, ¼Ò¸®µé ´Ü¾îµé·Î Ç¥ÇöµÈ ¿µ»óµé·Î ±×°ÍÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â °Í, ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¶È°°Àº ´À³¦À» °æÇèÇÏ´Â °Í — ¹Ù·Î ¿©±â¿¡ ¿¹¼ú Ȱµ¿ÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀº ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ, ¾î¶² ¿ÜÀûÀΠǥ½Ãµé·Î¼­, ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ °æÇèÇÑ °ÍÀ» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀǽÄÀûÀ¸·Î Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â °Í°ú, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×·¯ÇÑ ´À³¦µé¿¡ Àü¿°µÇ´Â °Í°ú ¶ÇÇÑ ±×°ÍµéÀ» °æÇèÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î ±¸¼ºµÇ´Â Àΰ£ Ȱµ¿ÀÌ´Ù.

Art is not, as the metaphysicians say, the manifestation of some mysterious idea, beauty, God; not, as the aesthetician-physiologists say, a form of play in which man releases a surplus of stored-up energy; not the manifestation of emotions through external signs; not the production of pleasing objects; not, above all, pleasure; but is a means of human communion, necessary for life and for the movement towards the good of the individual man and of mankind, uniting them in the same feelings.

¿¹¼úÀº, ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀÚµéÀÌ ¸»Çϵí, ¾î¶² ½ÅºñÇÑ °³³ä, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò, ½ÅÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù; ¹ÌÇÐÀû-»ý¸®ÇÐÀÚµéÀÌ ¸»Çϵí, ÀúÀåµÈ À׿©ÀÇ ÈûÀ» ¹æÃâÇÏ´Â ³îÀÌÀÇ ÇüŰ¡ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù; ¿ÜÀûÀΠǥ½ÃµéÀ» ÅëÇÑ °¨Á¤ÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù; Áñ°Å¿î ¹°Ã¼µéÀ» »ý»êÇÔÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù; ¹«¾ùº¸´Ù Äè¶ôÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù; ÇÏÁö¸¸ Àΰ£ÀÇ ±³Á¦ÀÇ ¼ö´ÜÀ̸ç, »îÀ» À§ÇÏ¿© ±×¸®°í ÇÑ °³ÀÎÀÇ ¹× ÀηùÀÇ ¼±À» ÇâÇÑ ¿òÁ÷ÀÓÀ» À§ÇØ ÇÊ¿äÇÑ °ÍÀ̸ç, ÀÌ·Î½á ±×µéÀ» µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ´À³¦µé·Î ¿¬ÇÕÇØ ÁØ´Ù.

Just as, owing to man¡¯s capacity for understanding thoughts expressed in words, any man can learn all that mankind has done for him in the realm of thought, can in the present, owing to the capacity for understanding other people¡¯s thoughts, participate in other people¡¯s activity, and can himself, owing to this capacity, convey the thoughts he has received from others, and his own as they have emerged in him, to his contemporaries and to posterity; so, owing to man¡¯s capacity for being infected by other people¡¯s feelings through art, he has access to all that mankind has experienced before him in the realm of feeling, he has access to the feelings experienced by his contemporaries, to feelings lived by other men thousands of years ago, and it is possible for him to convey his feelings to other people.

¸»µé·Î Ç¥ÇöµÈ »ç»óµéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷ÀÇ ´É·Â¿¡ µû¶ó¼­, ¾î¶² »ç¶÷ÀÌ¶óµµ »ç»óÀÇ ¿µ¿ª¿¡¼­ Àηù°¡ ±×¿¡°Ô ÁÖ´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ¹è¿ï ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ÇöÀç¿¡µµ, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ »ç»óµéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ´É·Â¿¡ µû¶ó¼­, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ È°µ¿¿¡ Âü¿©ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ÀÌ·± ´É·Â¿¡ µû¶ó ±×°¡ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô¼­ ¹ÞÀº »ç»óµé ¹× ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¾È¿¡ ³ªÅ¸³­ ´ë·ÎÀÇ ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °ÍÀ» ±×ÀÇ µ¿½Ã´ëÀÎµé ¹× Èļյ鿡°Ô ½º½º·Î Àü´ÞÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °Í°ú ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î; ¿¹¼úÀ» ÅëÇØ¼­ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ´À³¦µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Àü¿°µÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷ÀÇ ´É·Â¿¡ µû¶ó, ±×´Â ´À³¦ÀÇ ¿µ¿ª¿¡¼­ ¸ðµç Àηù°¡ ±×ÀÇ ÀÌÀü¿¡ °æÇèÇÑ ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» Á¢ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±×ÀÇ µ¿½Ã´ëÀεéÀÌ °æÇèÇÑ ´À³¦µéÀ», ¼öõ ³â Àü ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ »ì¾Æ ¿Ô´ø ´À³¦µéÀ» Á¢ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±×¸®°í ±×°¡  ±×ÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ °¡´ÉÇÏ´Ù

If people were incapable of receiving all the thoughts conveyed in words by people living before them, or of conveying their own thoughts to others, they would be like beasts or like Kaspar Hauser. [41]

¸¸ÀÏ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×µé ¾Õ¿¡ »ì¾Æ¿Â »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¸»µé·Î Àü´ÞµÈ ¸ðµç »ç»óµéÀ» ¹Þ¾Æ µéÀÏ, ȤÀº ±×µé ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ »ç»óµéÀ» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞÇÒ ´É·ÂÀÌ ¾ø´Ù¸é, ±×µéÀº Áü½Âµé °°°Å³ª ȤÀº Ä«½ºÆÄ ÇÏ¿ìÀú °°À» °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

If men were not possessed of this other capacity — that of being infected by art — people would perhaps be still more savage and, above all, more divided and hostile.

¸¸ÀÏ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ÀÌ·± ´Ù¸¥ ´É·Â — Áï ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Àü¿°µÇ´Â ´É·Â — À» ¼ÒÀ¯ÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù¸é »ç¶÷µéÀº ¾Æ¸¶µµ ÈξÀ ´õ ¾ß¸¸ÀûÀ̸ç, ¹«¾ùº¸´Ù ´õ ºÐ¿­ÀûÀ̰í Àû´ëÀûÀÏ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

And therefore the activity of art is a very important activity, as important as the activity of speech, and as widely spread.

±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¿¹¼ú Ȱµ¿Àº ¸Å¿ì Áß¿äÇÑ È°µ¿À̸ç, ¾ð¾î Ȱµ¿¸¸Å­À̳ª Áß¿äÇÏ¸ç ³Î¸® ÆÛÁ® ÀÖ´Ù.

As the word affects us not only in sermons, orations and books, but in all those speeches in which we convey our thoughts and experiences to each other, so, too, art in the broad sense of the word pervades our entire life, while, in the narrow sense of the word, we call art only certain of its manifestations.

¸¶Ä¡ ¸»ÀÌ ¼³±³µé, ¿¬¼³µé, ¹× Ã¥µé¿¡¼­ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ »ç»óµé ¹× °æÇèµéÀ» »ó´ë¹æ¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ±× ¸ðµç ´ëÈ­µé¿¡¼­ ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ¿µÇâÀ» ¹ÌÄ¡´Â °Íó·³, ³ÐÀº Àǹ̿¡¼­ ¿¹¼ú ¿ª½Ã ¿ì¸®ÀÇ Àüü »î¿¡ ½º¸çµé¸ç, ¹Ý¸é¿¡ Á¼Àº Àǹ̿¡¼­, ¿ì¸®´Â ¿¹¼úÀ» ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×·± ÀϺΠǥÇöµé ¸¸À» ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó ºÎ¸¥´Ù.

We are accustomed to regard as art only what we read, hear, see in theatres, concerts and exhibitions, buildings, statues, poems, novels . . . But all this is only a small portion of the art by which we communicate with one another in life. The whole of human life is filled with works of art of various kinds, from lullabies, jokes, mimicry, home decoration, clothing, utensils, to church services and solemn processions. All this is the activity of art. Thus we call art, in the narrow sense of the word, not the entire human activity that conveys feelings, but only that which we for some reason single out from all this activity and to which we give special significance.

¿ì¸®´Â ¿À·ÎÁö ±ØÀåµé, ¿¬ÁÖȸµé ¹× Àü½Ãȸµé, °Ç¹°µé, Çü»óµé, ½Ãµé, ¼Ò¼³µé¿¡¼­ ÀÐ°í µè°í º¸´Â °Í¸¸À» ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©±â´Âµ¥ Àͼ÷ÇØÁ® ÀÖ´Ù. . . ±×·¯³ª ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ÍÀº ¿ì¸®°¡ »î ¾È¿¡¼­ ¼­·Î ´ëÈ­Çϱâ À§ÇÑ ´ÜÁö ¿¹¼úÀÇ Á¶±×¸¸ ÀϺÎÀÏ »ÓÀÌ´Ù. Àüü Àΰ£ÀÇ »îÀº, ÀÚÀå°¡µé, ³ó´ãµé, Èä³»µé, ½Ç³» Àå½Ä, ÀÇ»ó, ½Ç¿ëǰµé·ÎºÎÅÍ ±³È¸ ¿¹¹èµé ¹× Á¾±³ Çà·Ä±îÁö, ´Ù¾çÇÑ Á¾·ùÀÇ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé·Î ä¿öÁø´Ù. ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ÍÀº ¿¹¼ú Ȱµ¿ÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ·¸°Ô ÇØ¼­ ¿ì¸®´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ, Á¼Àº Àǹ̷Î, ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â Àüü Àΰ£ Ȱµ¿ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¿ì¸®°¡ ¾î¶² ÀÌÀ¯·Î ÀÌ ¸ðµç Ȱµ¿À¸·ÎºÎÅÍ °ñ¶ó³½ °Í ±×¸®°í ¿ì¸®°¡ Ưº°ÇÑ Àǹ̸¦ ºÎ¿©ÇÑ °ÍÀ» ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó ºÎ¸¥´Ù.

This special significance has always been given by all people to the part of this activity which conveys feelings coming from their religious consciousness, and it is this small part of the whole of art that has been called art in the full sense of the word.

ÀÌ Æ¯º°ÇÑ Àǹ̴ ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ±×µéÀÇ Á¾±³Àû ÀνĿ¡¼­ ºñ·ÔµÈ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ÀÌ·± Ȱµ¿ÀÇ ÀϺο¡ ÁÖ¾îÁ³À¸¸ç, Àüü ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÀÌ °°Àº ÀϺΰ¡ ¿ÏÀüÇÑ Àǹ̷μ­ ¿¹¼ú·Î ºÒ·Á ¿Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

This was the view of art among the men of antiquity — Socrates, Plato, Aristotle. The same view of art was shared by the Hebrew prophets and the early Christians; it is understood in the same way by the Muslims and by religious men of the people in our time.

À̰ÍÀº °í´ëÀÇ »ç¶÷µé — ¼ÒÅ©¶óÅ×½º, ÇöóÅæ, ¾Æ¸®½ºÅäÅÚ·¹½º — »çÀÌ¿¡ ÀÖ´ø ¿¹¼ú¿¡ °üÇÑ ½Ã°¢À̾ú´Ù. ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ½Ã°¢Àº È÷ºê¸®ÀÇ ¼±ÁöÀÚµé ¹× Ãʱ⠱׸®½ºµµ±³Àε鿡 ÀÇÇØ °øÀ¯µÇ¾ú´Ù; ±×°ÍÀº µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î ȸ±³µµµé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ±×¸®°í ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¹ÎÁßÀÇ Á¾±³ÀûÀÎ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀÌÇØµÇ¾ú´Ù.

Some teachers of mankind, such as Plato in his Republic, the first Christians, strict Muslims, and Buddhists, have often even rejected all art.

ÀηùÀÇ ¾î¶² ±³»çµéÀº, ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, °øÈ­±¹¿¡¼­ ÇöóÅæ, Ãʱ⠱׸®½ºµµ±³Àεé, ¾ö°ÝÇÑ È¸±³µµµé, ¹× ºÒ±³ÀεéÀº, Á¾Á¾ ½ÉÁö¾î´Â ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úÀ» °ÅºÎÇß´Ù.

People holding this view of art, contrary to the modern view which considers all art good as long as it affords pleasure, thought and think that art, unlike the word, to which one need not listen, is so highly dangerous in its capacity for infecting people against their will, that mankind would lose far less if all art were banished than if every kind of art were tolerated.

¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ·± ½Ã°¢À» Áö´Ñ »ç¶÷µéÀº, Äè¶ôÀ» Á¦°øÇÏ´Â ÇÑ ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úÀÌ À¯ÀÍÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©±â´Â Çö´ëÀÇ ½Ã°¢°ú ¹Ý´ëÇϸç, ¿¹¼úÀº, ¸»°ú ´Þ¶ó¼­, ûÃëÇÒ Çʿ䰡 ¾ø¾î¼­, »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ÀÇÁö¿¡ ¹ÝÇÏ¿© ±×µéÀ» Àü¿°½Ãų ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ¿¹¼úÀÇ ´É·ÂÀ̶õ Á¡¿¡¼­ ¸Å¿ì À§ÇèÇØ¼­, ¸ðµç Á¾·ùÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀ» Çã¿ëÇÏ´Â °Íº¸´Ù ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úÀÌ Ãß¹æµÇ´Â °ÍÀÌ, Àηù°¡ ÈξÀ ´ú ÀÒÀ» °ÍÀ̶ó »ý°¢ÇßÀ¸¸ç »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù.

Those people who rejected all art were obviously wrong, because they rejected what cannot be rejected — one of the most necessary means of communication, without which mankind cannot live. But no less wrong are the people of our civilized European society, circle and time, in tolerating all art as long as it serves beauty — that is, gives people pleasure.

¸ðµç ¿¹¼úÀ» °ÅºÎÇÑ »ç¶÷µéÀº ¸í¹éÈ÷ ¿À·ù´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×µéÀº °ÅºÎµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Â °Í — ±³Á¦¿¡ °¡Àå ÇÊ¿äÇÑ ¼ö´ÜÀÇ Çϳª·Î¼­, ±×°ÍÀÌ ¾ø´Ù¸é Àηù°¡ »ì ¼ö ¾ø´Â °Í — À» °ÅºÎÇ߱⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¹®¸íÈ­µÈ À¯·´ »çȸ, ¹üÁÖ ¹× ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¹ÎÁßÀº, ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ µµ¿òÀÌ µÈ´Ù¸é — Áï, »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Äè¶ôÀ» ÁØ´Ù¸é —  ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úÀ» ¿ëÀÎÇÑ´Ù´Â Á¡¿¡¼­, °áÄÚ ´úÇÑ ¿À·ù°¡ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù.

Formerly, there was fear that among objects of art some corrupting objects might be found, and so all art was forbidden. Now, there is only fear lest they be deprived of some pleasure afforded by art, and so all art is patronized. And I think that the second error is much greater than the first and that its consequences are much more harmful.

¿¹Àü¿¡´Â, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¿ä¼Òµé Áß¿¡ ÀϺΠŸ¶ôÀûÀÎ ¿ä¼ÒµéÀÌ ³ªÅ¸³¯ °Í °°Àº ¿ì·Á°¡ ÀÖ¾úÀ¸¸ç, ±×·¡¼­ ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úÀÌ ±ÝÁöµÇ¾ú´Ù. Áö±ÝÀº, ¿¹¼úÀÌ Á¦°øÇÏ´Â ÀϺΠÄè¶ôÀÌ ¹ÚÅ»µÇÁö ¾ÊÀ»±î ÇÏ´Â ¿ì·Á¸¸ÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇϸç, ±×·¡¼­ ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úÀº Àå·ÁµÈ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ³»°¡ »ý°¢ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ÈÄÀÚÀÇ ¿À·ù°¡ ÀüÀÚº¸´Ù ÈξÀ Å©¸ç, ±× °á°úµéÀº ÈξÀ ´õ ÇØ¾ÇÀûÀÌ´Ù.

¡¡

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VI

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But how could it happen that the same art, which in antiquity was either barely tolerated or altogether rejected, should come to be regarded in our time as invariably a good thing, provided it affords pleasure?

±×·¸Áö¸¸, ¾îÂîÇÏ¿© ¶È°°Àº ¿¹¼úÀÌ, °í´ë¿¡´Â °ÅÀÇ ¿ëÀεÇÁö ¾Ê¾Ò°Å³ª ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î °ÅºÎµÇ¾úÀ¸¸é¼­, ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ë¿¡´Â, ±×°ÍÀÌ Äè¶ôÀ» Á¦°øÇÑ´Ù¸é, ¿¹¿Ü ¾øÀÌ À¯ÀÍÇÑ °ÍÀ¸·Î ¿©°ÜÁö°Ô µÇ´Â ÀÏÀÌ ¹ß»ýÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ¾ú´Â°¡?

It happened for the following reasons.

±×°ÍÀº ´ÙÀ½ÀÇ ÀÌÀ¯µé ¶§¹®¿¡ ¹ß»ýÇÏ¿´´Ù.

The appreciation of the merits of art — that is, of the feelings it conveys — depends on people¡¯s understanding of the meaning of life, on what they see as good and evil in life. Good and evil in life are determined by what are called religions.

¿¹¼úÀÇ ÀåÁ¡µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ — Áï, ±×°ÍÀÌ Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ´À³¦µéÀÇ — ÀÌÇØ´Â »îÀÇ Àǹ̿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ÀÌÇØ¿¡, »î ¾È¿¡¼­ ±×µéÀÌ ¼±Çϰųª ¾ÇÇÏ´Ù°í ±ú´Ý´Â °Í¿¡  ´Þ·Á ÀÖ´Ù. »î ¾È¿¡¼­ ¼±°ú ¾ÇÀº Á¾±³¶ó°í ºÒ¸®´Â °Í¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °áÁ¤µÈ´Ù.

Mankind ceaselessly moves from a lower, more partial and less clear understanding of life to one that is higher, more general and clearer. And, as in every movement, so in this movement there are leaders — those who understand the meaning of life more clearly than others — and among these leading people there is always one who, in his words and in his life, has more vividly, accessibly and forcefully manifested this meaning of life. This man¡¯s manifestation of this meaning of life, together with the traditions and rites that usually form around the memory of such a man, is called religion. Religions are indicators of the highest understanding of life accessible at a given time in a given society to the best of the leading people, which is inevitably and unfailingly approached by all the rest of society. And, only because of that, religions have always served and still serve as a basis for evaluating people¡¯s feelings. If their feelings bring people closer to the ideal to which their religion points, agree with it, do not contradict it — they are good; if they move them away from it, disagree with it, contradict it — they are bad.

¡¡

Àηù´Â ²÷ÀÓ ¾øÀÌ ´õ ³·°í, ´õ ÆíÆÄÀûÀÌ¸ç ´ú ¸í·áÇÑ »îÀÇ ÀÌÇØ·ÎºÎÅÍ ´õ ³ô°í, ´õ ÀϹÝÀûÀÌ¸ç ´õ ¸í·áÇÑ °ÍÀ¸·Î À̵¿ÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í, °¢°¢ÀÇ ¿òÁ÷ÀÓ¿¡¼­ ±×·¯ÇϵíÀÌ, ÀÌ·± ¿òÁ÷ÀÓ¿¡¼­µµ ¼±µµÀÚµé — »îÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéº¸´Ù ´õ ¸í·áÇÏ°Ô ÀÌÇØÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µé — ÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù ±×¸®°í ÀÌµé ¼±µµÀûÀÎ »ç¶÷µé Áß¿¡´Â ¾ðÁ¦³ª, ±×ÀÇ ¸»µé ¹× ±×ÀÇ »î ¾È¿¡¼­, ÀÌ·± »îÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ ´õ¿í »ý»ýÇϰÔ, ½±°Ô ±×¸®°í °­·ÂÇÏ°Ô Ç¥ÇöÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù. ÀÌ·± »îÀÇ Àǹ̿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ »ç¶÷ÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀº, ±×·¯ÇÑ »ç¶÷¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±â¾ïÀ» Áß½ÉÀ¸·Î ÁÖ·Î Çü¼ºµÇ´Â Àü½Âµé ¹× Àǽĵé°ú ´õºÒ¾î, Á¾±³¶ó°í ºÒ¸°´Ù. Á¾±³µéÀº ÁÖ¾îÁø ½Ã´ë¿¡ ÁÖ¾îÁø »çȸ¿¡ ¼±µµÀûÀÎ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ Á¢ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ÀÌÇØ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÁöÇ¥µé·Î, À̰ÍÀº »çȸÀÇ ³ª¸ÓÁö ¸ðµÎ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÇÊ¿¬ÄÚ ±×¸®°í Ʋ¸²¾øÀÌ ÀÌÇàµÈ´Ù. ±×¸®°í, ¿À·ÎÁö ±×·± ÀÌÀ¯ ¶§¹®¿¡, Á¾±³µéÀº ¾ðÁ¦³ª »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» Æò°¡ÇÏ´Â Åä´ë·Î ÀÛ¿ëÇßÀ¸¸ç ¾ÆÁ÷µµ ±×·¯ÇÏ´Ù. ¸¸ÀÏ ±×µéÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀ» ±×µéÀÇ Á¾±³µéÀÌ ÁöÇâÇÏ´Â ÀÌ»ó¿¡ ´õ °¡±îÀÌ µ¥·Á°¡°í, ±×°Í¿¡ µ¿ÀÇÇϸç, ±×°ÍÀ» ¹Ý¹ÚÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù¸é — ±×°ÍµéÀº ¼±ÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù; ¸¸ÀÏ  ´À³¦µéÀÌ ±×°ÍµéÀ» ¸Ö¸® ¹Ð¾î³»¸ç, ±×°Í¿¡ Âù¼ºÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ±×°ÍÀ» ¹Ý´ëÇÑ´Ù¸é — ´À³¦µéÀº ¾ÇÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

If religion places the meaning of life in the worship of one God and the fulfilling of what is regarded as his will, as with the Jews, then the feelings resulting from the love of this God and his law, conveyed by art — the sacred poetry of the prophets, the Psalms, the stories in the book of Genesis — make for good, high art. Everything opposed to that, such as conveying the feeling of the worship of alien gods, or feelings discordant with the law of God, will be regarded as bad art. If religion places the meaning of life in earthly happiness, in beauty and strength, then art that conveys the joy and zest of life will be considered good art, while art that conveys feelings of delicacy or dejection will be bad art, as was thought among the Greeks. If the meaning of life lies in the good of the nation or in continuing the way of life of the ancestors and revering them, then art that conveys the feeling of joy in the sacrifice of personal good for the good of the nation or the glorification of the ancestors and the maintaining of their tradition will be considered good art, while art that expresses feelings contrary to these will be considered bad, as among the Romans and the Chinese. If the meaning of life lies in liberating oneself from the bonds of animality, then art that conveys feelings which elevate the soul and humble the flesh will be good art, as it is regarded among the Buddhists, and all that conveys feelings which enhance the bodily passions will be bad art.

¸¸ÀÏ Á¾±³°¡, À¯´ëÀο¡°Ô ±×·± °Íó·³, »îÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ À¯ÀÏ ½ÅÀÇ ¼þ¹è ±×¸®°í ±×ÀÇ ¶æÀ¸·Î ¿©°ÜÁö´Â °ÍÀÇ ÀÌÇà¿¡ µÎ°í ÀÖ´Ù¸é, ÀÌ·± ½Å°ú ±×ÀÇ À²¹ý¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ç¶û¿¡¼­ ºñ·ÔµÇ´Â ´À³¦µéÀº, ¿¹¼ú — ¼±ÁöÀÚµéÀÇ ½Å¼ºÇÑ ½Ã, ½ÃÆí, â¼¼±âÀÇ À̾߱âµé — ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Àü´ÞµÇ°í, ¼±ÇÏ¸ç ¼þ°íÇÑ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ µµ¿òÀÌ µÈ´Ù. ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ °Í¿¡ ¹ÝÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç °Í, ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é À̹æÀÇ ½ÅµéÀ» ¼þ¹èÇÏ´Â ´À³¦, ȤÀº ½ÅÀÇ À²¹ý¿¡ ¾î±ß³ª´Â ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÔÀº ¾ÇÇÑ ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©°ÜÁú °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¸¸ÀÏ Á¾±³°¡ ¼¼¼ÓÀû Çູ, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú Èû¿¡ »îÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ µÐ´Ù¸é, »îÀÇ È¯Èñ¿Í ÀÚ±ØÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ, ±×¸®½ºÀÎµé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ ±×·¯Çß´ø °Íó·³, ¼±ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©°ÜÁú °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¸¸ÀÏ »îÀÇ Àǹ̰¡ ±¹°¡¸¦ À§ÇÔÀ̳ª ¼±Á¶µéÀÇ »îÀÇ ¹æ½ÄÀ» °è½ÂÇÏ°í ±×µéÀ» °ø°æÇÔ¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù¸é, ±¹°¡ÀÇ ¼±À» À§ÇØ °³ÀÎÀÇ ¼±À» Èñ»ýÇÏ´Â ±â»Ý ȤÀº ¼±Á¶µéÀÇ Âù¹Ì ¹× ±×µéÀÇ ÀüÅëÀ» °è½ÂÇÔ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ´À³¦À» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¼±ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©°ÜÁú °ÍÀ̸ç, ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î ÀÌ·± °Íµé¿¡ ¹ÝÇÏ´Â ´À³¦µéÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀº, ·Î¸¶ÀÎµé ¹× Áß±¹ÀÎµé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ ±×·¯Çß´ø °Íó·³, ¾ÇÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁú °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¸¸ÀÏ »îÀÇ Àǹ̰¡ µ¿¹°¼ºÀÇ ±¼·¹¿¡¼­ ÀÚ½ÅÀ» ÇØ¹æ½ÃÅ´¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù¸é, Á¤½ÅÀ» °í¾çÇϰí À°½ÅÀ» ³·Ãß´Â ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ, ºÒ±³ÀÎµé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ ±×·¯ÇϵíÀÌ, ¼±ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÏ °ÍÀ̸ç, À°½ÅÀÇ ¿­Á¤µéÀ» ºÎÃß±â´Â ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀº ¾ÇÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÏ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

Always, in all times and in all human societies, there has existed this religious consciousness, common to all people of the society, of what is good and what is bad, and it is this religious consciousness that determines the worth of the feelings conveyed by art. And therefore, always, in all nations, art that conveyed feelings resulting from the religious consciousness common to the people of the nation was recognized as good and was encouraged, while art that conveyed feelings discordant with the religious consciousness was recognized as bad and was rejected; the whole enormous remaining field of art by which the people communicated among themselves was not valued at all, and was rejected only when it ran counter to the religious consciousness of its time. So it was among all nations: Greeks, Jews, Hindus, Egyptians, Chinese. So it was, too, when Christianity appeared.

¾ðÁ¦³ª, ¸ðµç ½Ã´ëµé°ú ¸ðµç Àΰ£ »çȸµé¿¡¼­, »çȸÀÇ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô °øÅëÀûÀ¸·Î, ¹«¾ùÀÌ ¼±ÀÌ¸ç ¹«¾ùÀÌ ¾ÇÀÎÁö¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ °°Àº Á¾±³Àû ÀǽÄÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇßÀ¸¸ç, ±×°ÍÀº ¹Ù·Î ÀÌ °°Àº Á¾±³Àû ÀǽÄÀ¸·Î¼­ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Àü´ÞµÇ´Â ´À³¦µéÀÇ °¡Ä¡¸¦ °áÁ¤ÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ¾ðÁ¦³ª, ¸ðµç ±¹°¡µé¿¡¼­, ±¹°¡ÀÇ ¹ÎÁߵ鿡°Ô °øÅëÀûÀÎ Á¾±³Àû ÀνĿ¡¼­ ºñ·ÔµÈ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀº ¼±ÇÏ´Ù°í ÀÎÁ¤µÇ°í Àå·Á µÇ¾úÀ¸¸ç, ¹Ý¸é¿¡ Á¾±³Àû ÀνĿ¡ ¾î±ß³ª´Â ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀº ¾ÇÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁ®¼­ °ÅºÎµÇ¾ú´Ù; ¹ÎÁßÀÌ ±×µé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ ±³Á¦ÇÏ´ø °Å´ëÇÑ ³ª¸ÓÁö Àüü ¿¹¼úÀÇ ºÐ¾ß´Â ÀüÇô °¡Ä¡ ¾ø´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁ³À¸¸ç, ¿ÀÁ÷ ±× ½Ã´ëÀÇ Á¾±³Àû ÀǽĿ¡ Á¤¸éÀ¸·Î ´ëÄ¡ÇÒ ¶§ °ÅºÎµÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº ¸ðµç ±¹°¡µé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ ±×·¯Çß´Ù: ±×¸®½ºÀεé, À¯ÅÂÀεé, ÈùµÎÀεé, ÀÌÁýÆ®Àεé, Áß±¹Àεé. ±×°ÍÀº ±×¸®½ºµµ±³°¡ ³ªÅ¸³µÀ» ¶§µµ ¿ª½Ã ±×·¯Çß´Ù.

Christianity of the earliest time recognized as good works of art only legends, saints¡¯ lives, sermons, prayers, hymns that called up in people the feeling of love for Christ, of being moved by his life, the desire to follow his example, the renunciation of earthly life, humility, and love for others. All works that conveyed feelings of personal pleasure were regarded as bad, and therefore Christianity rejected all pagan plastic art, allowing only symbolic plastic images.

ÃʱâÀÇ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³´Â ±×¸®½ºµµ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ç¶ûÀÇ, ±×ÀÇ »î¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ °¨µ¿ ¹ÞÀ½¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ´À³¦À», ±×ÀÇ º»À» µû¸£·Á´Â ¿å¸ÁÀ», ¼¼¼ÓÀû »îÀ» Æ÷±âÇÔ, °â¾ç, ±×¸®°í ÀÌ¿ô¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ç¶ûÀ» »ç¶÷µé ¾È¿¡ ºÒ·¯ ÀÏÀ¸Å°´Â, Àü¼³µé, ¼ºÀÚµéÀÇ »î, ¼³±³µé, ±âµµµé, Âù¼Ûµé ¸¸À» ¿ÀÁ÷ ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀ̶ó°í ÀÎÁ¤Çß´Ù. °³ÀÎÀû Äè¶ôÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç ÀÛǰµéÀº ¾ÇÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁ³À¸¸ç, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ±×¸®½ºµµ±³´Â ¸ðµç À̱³ÀûÀÎ Á¶Çü ¿¹¼úÀ» °ÅºÎÇßÀ¸¸ç, ¿ÀÁ÷ »ó¡Àû Á¶Çü ¿µ»óµé¸¸À» Çã¿ëÇß´Ù.

So it was among Christians of the first centuries, who received the teaching of Christ, if not quite in its true form, still not in a perverted one, not in a pagan form such as was accepted later on. But with the wholesale conversion of nations to Christianity, by a ruler¡¯s decree, as under Constantine, Charlemagne, and Vladimir, [42] there appeared a different, a Church Christianity, closer to paganism than to the teaching of Christ. And this Church Christianity, on the basis of its own teaching, began to evaluate quite differently the feelings of men and the works of art that conveyed them. This Church Christianity not only did not recognize the basic and essential theses of true Christianity — the direct relation of each person to the Father and, following from that, the brotherhood and equality of all men, resulting in the replacement of all forms of violence by humility and love — but, on the contrary, having established a heavenly hierarchy, similar to pagan mythology, and the worship of it, the worship of Christ, of the Mother of God, of angels, apostles, saints, martyrs, and not only of these divinities but also of their images, Church Christianity set up blind faith in the Church and its statutes as the essence of its teaching.

ÃÊ±â ¸î ¹é ³â ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ÀÎ »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ ±×·¯ÇßÀ¸¸ç,  ±×µéÀº, ±×¸® ÂüµÈ ¸ð½ÀÀº ¾Æ´ÒÁö¶óµµ ¾ÆÁ÷ Ÿ¶ôÇÑ °ÍÀº ¾Æ´Ï¾úÀ¸¸ç, ÈÄ´ë¿¡ ¼ö¿ëµÈ °Í °°Àº À̱³ÀûÀÌ ¾Æ´Ñ ¸ð½ÀÀ¸·Î ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§À» ¹Þ¾Æµé¿´´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±¹°¡µéÀÌ, ÄܽºÅºÆ¾, »þ¸¦¸¶´º, ±×¸®°í ºí¶óµå¹Ì¸£ Ä¡ÇÏ¿¡¼­Ã³·³, ÅëÄ¡ÀÚÀÇ Ä¢·É¿¡ µû¶ó ±×¸®½ºµµ±³·Î µµ¸Å±ÝÀ¸·Î °³Á¾ÇÔ°ú ´õºÒ¾î, ÀÏÁ¾ÀÇ ÀÌÁúÀûÀÎ, ÀÏÁ¾ÀÇ ±³È¸ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³°¡ ³ªÅ¸³µÀ¸¸ç, ÀÌ´Â ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§º¸´Ù´Â À̱³¿¡ °¡±î¿ü´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÀÌ ±³È¸ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³´Â, ±× ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§À» ±âÃÊ·Î, »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ´À³¦µé°ú ±×°ÍµéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀ» ¸Å¿ì ´Ù¸£°Ô Æò°¡Çϱ⠽ÃÀÛÇß´Ù. ÀÌ °°Àº ±³È¸ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³´Â Âü ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ÀÇ ±âº»Àû ¹× ±Ùº»Àû ÁÖÀåµé — ½Å¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Á¦°¢±â »ç¶÷ÀÇ Á÷Á¢Àû °ü°è ±×¸®°í, ±×·¯ÇÔÀÇ °á°ú·Î, ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ÇüÁ¦¾Ö ¹× Æòµî, ±× °á°ú·Î Æø·ÂÀÇ ¸ðµç ÇüŵéÀ» °â¼Õ°ú »ç¶ûÀ¸·Î ´ëüÇÔ — À» ÀÎÁ¤ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¹Ý´ë·Î, À̱³ÀÇ ½ÅÈ­¿Í À¯»çÇÑ Ãµ»ç °è±Þ, ±×°Í¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¼þ¹è, ±×¸®½ºµµ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ, ¼º¸ð¿¡ ´ëÇÑ, õ»çµé, »çµµµé, ¼ºÀÚµé, ¼ø±³Àڵ鿡 ´ëÇÑ, ±×¸®°í À̵éÀÇ ½Å¼ºµé »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ±×µéÀÇ ¿ì»óµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¼þ¹è¸¦ È®¸³ÇÏ°í ³ª¼­, ±³È¸ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³´Â ±³È¸¿Í ±³È¸ÀÇ ±ÔÁ¤µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¸Í¸ñÀû ½Å¾ÓÀ» ±× °¡¸£Ä§ÀÇ º»Áú·Î È®¸³ÇÏ¿´´Ù.

However foreign this teaching was to true Christianity, however base it was in comparison not only with true Christianity, but even with the world view of such Romans as Julian, [43] still, for the barbarians who embraced it, it was a loftier teaching than their former worship of gods, heroes, good and evil spirits. And therefore this teaching was a religion for the barbarians who embraced it. And it was on the basis of this religion that the art of the time was evaluated; art that portrayed the pious veneration of the Mother of God, Jesus, saints, angels, blind faith in and obedience to the Church, fear of torments and hope of bliss in the life after death, was considered good; art opposed to that was all considered bad.

ÀÌ °¡¸£Ä§ÀÌ Âü ±×¸®½ºµµ±³¿¡ ¾Æ¹«¸® ÀÌÁúÀûÀ̾úµç, ±×°ÍÀÌ Âü ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ÁÙ¸®¾È °°Àº ·Î¸¶ÀεéÀÇ ¼¼°è°ü°ú ºñ±³ÇÏ¿© ¾ó¸¶³ª õÇÑ °ÍÀ̾úµç, ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ±×°ÍÀ» ¹Þ¾ÆµéÀÌ´Â ¾ß¸¸Àε鿡°Ô À־, ±×°ÍÀº ±×µéÀÇ ½Åµé, ¿µ¿õµé, ¼±ÇÏ°í ¾ÇÇÑ ¿µµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °ú°ÅÀÇ ¼þ¹èº¸´Ù ´õ °í»óÇÑ °¡¸£Ä§À̾ú´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ÀÌ °¡¸£Ä§Àº ±×°ÍÀ» ¼ö¿ëÇÑ ¾ß¸¸Àε鿡°Õ Á¾±³¿´´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¹Ù·Î ÀÌ °°Àº Á¾±³¸¦ Åä´ë·Î ±× ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº Æò°¡µÇ¾ú´Ù; ¼º¸ð, ¿¹¼ö, ¼ºÀÚµé, õ»çµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±íÀº ¼þ¹è, ±³È¸¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¸Í¸ñÀû ½Å¾Ó ¹× º¹Á¾, °íÅëµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ µÎ·Á¿ò°ú »çÈÄÀÇ »î ¾È¿¡¼­ÀÇ ÃູÀÇ Èñ¸ÁÀ» ±×¸®´Â ¿¹¼úÀº ¼±ÇÏ°Ô ¿©°ÜÁ³´Ù; ±×·¯ÇÑ °Í¿¡ ´ëÄ¡µÇ´Â ¿¹¼úÀº ¸ðµÎ ¾ÇÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁ³´Ù.

The teaching on the basis of which this art emerged was a perversion of the teaching of Christ, but the art that emerged from this perverted teaching was still true art, because it corresponded to the religious world view of the people among whom it emerged.

ÀÌ·± ¿¹¼úÀÌ ÃâÇöÇÏ°Ô µÈ Åä´ëÀÎ °¡¸£Ä§Àº ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿Ö°îÀ̾úÁö¸¸, ÀÌ·± ¿Ö°îµÈ °¡¸£Ä§À¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ÃâÇöÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀº ¾ÆÁ÷µµ ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀº ±× ¿¹¼úÀÌ ÃâÇöÇÑ ¹ÎÁß¿¡¼­ÀÇ Á¾±³Àû ¼¼°è°ü¿¡ ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏ¿´±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

The artists of the Middle Ages, sharing the same religion with the popular masses as the basis for their feelings, while conveying in architecture, sculpture, painting, music, poetry and drama the feelings and moods they experienced, were true artists, and their activity, based on the highest understanding accessible to that time and shared by all, though low for our time, was still true art, common to the whole people.

Áß¼¼ÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀº, ±×µéÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀÇ Åä´ë·Î¼­ ÀÏ¹Ý ¹ÎÁß°ú ¶È°°Àº Á¾±³¸¦ °øÀ¯ÇÏ´Â ¹Ý¸é, °ÇÃà, Á¶°¢, ȸȭ, À½¾Ç, ½Ã ¹× ¿¬±Ø¿¡¼­ ±×µéÀÌ °æÇèÇÑ ´À³¦µé°ú ±âºÐµéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÔÀ¸·Î½á, ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀ̾úÀ¸¸ç, ±×µéÀÇ È°µ¿Àº, ±× ½Ã´ë¿¡ Çã¿ëµÈ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ÀÌÇØ¸¦ ±âÃÊ·Î ÇÏ°í ¸ðµÎ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °øÀ¯µÇ¾î¼­, ºñ·Ï ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ë¿¡ ºñÇØ ³·Áö¸¸, ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼úÀ̾úÀ¸¸ç, Àüü ¹ÎÁß¿¡°Ô °øÅëÀûÀ̾ú´Ù.

And so it was until the time when doubt of the truth of the understanding of life expressed by Church Christianity appeared among the upper, wealthy, more educated ranks of European society. But when, after the Crusades, after papal power became highly developed and likewise abused, after people of the wealthy ranks became familiar with ancient wisdom and saw, on the one hand, the reasonable lucidity of the ancient sages, and, on the other, the lack of correspondence between the Church¡¯s teaching and the teaching of Christ, it became impossible for them to believe as before in the teaching of the Church.

±×¸®°í ±³È¸ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Ç¥ÇöµÈ »îÀÇ ±ú´ÞÀ½ÀÇ Áø¸®¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÇȤÀÌ »ó·ùÃþÀÇ, ºÎÀ¯Çϸç, Á»´õ ±³À°¹ÞÀº À¯·´ »çȸ °è±Þµé »çÀÌ¿¡ ³ªÅ¸³µÀ» ¶§±îÁöµµ ±×·¯Çß´Ù. ±×·¯³ª, ½ÊÀÚ±º ÀüÀï ÈÄ¿¡, ±³È²ÀÇ ±Ç·ÂÀÌ ¸Å¿ì ¹ßÀüµÇ°í ±×¿Í ´õºÒ¾î ³²¿ëµÈ ÈÄ¿¡, ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ °è±ÞµéÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ °í´ëÀÇ ÁöÇý¿Í ¸í¾ðµé¿¡ Ä£¼÷ÇØÁø µÚ¿¡, ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î °í´ë ÇöÀÚµéÀÇ ÇÕ¸®Àû ÅëÂû·ÂÀ¸·Î, ±×¸®°í ´Ù¸¥ ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î, ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§°ú ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§ »çÀÌÀÇ ±³°¨ÀÇ ºÎÁ·À¸·Î, ±×µéÀÌ ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§À» ¿¾³¯Ã³·³ ¹Ï´Â´Ù´Â °ÍÀº ºÒ°¡´ÉÇØÁ³´Ù.

If ostensibly they still kept to the forms of the Church¡¯s teaching, they were no longer able to believe in it and held to it only by inertia, or for the sake of the people, who continued to believe blindly in the teaching of the Church, and whom those of the upper classes considered it necessary to support in their belief for the sake of their own profit. So the Christian teaching of the Church ceased, at a certain moment, to be the general religious teaching of all Christian people. Some — the upper ranks, those in whose hands lay the power and wealth, and therefore the leisure and means to produce and encourage art — ceased to believe in the religious teaching of the Church, while the people went on blindly believing in it.

¸¸ÀÏ ±×µéÀÌ Ç¥¸é»óÀ¸·Î ¾ÆÁ÷ ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§ÀÇ Çü½ÄµéÀ» ÁؼöÇϰí ÀÖ´õ¶óµµ, ±×µéÀº ´õ ÀÌ»ó ±×°ÍÀ» ¹ÏÀ» ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç ´ÜÁö ¹«±â·ÂÇϰųª, ȤÀº °è¼ÓÇØ¼­ ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§À» ¸Í¸ñÀûÀ¸·Î ¹Ï´Â ¹ÎÁßÀ» À§Çؼ­, ±×¸®°í  »óÀ§ °è±ÞÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×µé ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ÀÌÀÍÀ» À§ÇØ ±×µéÀÇ ¹ÏÀ½À» ÁöÁöÇÔÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©±â´Â »ç¶÷µéÀ» À§ÇØ, ±×°ÍÀ» ÁöÁöÇϰí ÀÖÀ» »ÓÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ±³È¸ÀÇ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³Àû °¡¸£Ä§Àº, ¾î¶² ¼ø°£¿¡ À̸£·¯, ¸ðµç ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ÀϹÝÀû Á¾±³Àû °¡¸£Ä§À̱⸦ ¸ØÃß¾ú´Ù. ¾î¶² À̵éÀº — »óÀ§ °è±Þµé, ¼Õ¾Æ±Í¿¡ ±Ç·Â°ú ºÎ°¡ ³õ¿© ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷µé, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¿¹¼úÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»°í Àå·ÁÇÒ ¿©À¯¿Í ¼ö´ÜÀ» °¡Áø »ç¶÷µé — Àº ±³È¸ÀÇ Á¾±³Àû °¡¸£Ä§À» ¹Ï±â¸¦ Áß´ÜÇÏ¿´À¸³ª, ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î ¹ÎÁßÀº ±×°ÍÀ» °è¼ÓÇØ¼­ ¸Í¸ñÀûÀ¸·Î ¹Ï°í ÀÖ´Ù.

With regard to religion, the upper ranks in the Middle Ages found themselves in the same situation as the educated Romans before the appearance of Christianity — that is, they no longer believed what the people believed; but they themselves had no belief that they could put in place of the obsolete Church teaching, which had lost its meaning for them.

Á¾±³¿Í °ü·ÃÇÏ¿©, Áß¼¼ÀÇ »óÀ§ °è±ÞµéÀº ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ÀÇ ÃâÇö ¾Õ¿¡ ±×µé ±³À°¹ÞÀº ·Î¸¶Àεé°ú ¶È°°Àº À§Ä¡¿¡ ÀÖÀ½À» ¾Ë¾Ò´Ù — Áï, ±×µéÀº ´õ ÀÌ»ó »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¹Ï´Â °ÍÀ» ¹ÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù; ±×·¯³ª ±×µéÀº ¾µ¸ð ¾ø´Â ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§À» ´ë½ÅÇÒ ¾Æ¹«·± ¹ÏÀ½µµ ¾ø¾úÀ¸¸ç, ±×°ÍÀº ±×µé¿¡°Ô À־ ±× Àǹ̸¦ ÀÒ¾î ¹ö·È´Ù.

The only difference was that, while the Romans who lost faith in their god-emperors and household deities, having nothing more to extract from all the complex mythology they had borrowed from all the peoples they had conquered, had to embrace an entirely new world view, the people of the Middle Ages who doubted the truth of the Church¡¯s catholic teaching did not have to look for a new teaching. That Christian teaching, which they confessed in its perverted form as the Church¡¯s catholic faith, had mapped out the path for mankind so far ahead that they had only to discard the perversions that obscured the teaching discovered by Christ and to adopt it, if not in all, then at least in a small part of its meaning (greater, however, than that adopted by the Church). This very thing was done in part not only by the Reformation of Wyclif, Hus, Luther, Calvin, but by the whole movement of non-Church Christians, represented in early times by the Paulicians, the Bogomils, and later the Waldensians, [44] and all other non-Church Christians, the so-called sectarians. But this could be done and was done by poor people, not the powerful. Only a few among the rich and strong, like Francis of Assisi and others, accepted the Christian teaching in this vital sense, though it destroyed their advantageous position. The majority of people of the upper classes, though at the bottom of their hearts they had already lost faith in the Church¡¯s teaching, were unable or unwilling to do so, because the essence of the Christian world outlook they would be adopting, if they were to renounce the Church¡¯s faith, was the teaching of the brotherhood and therefore the equality of men, and such a teaching would deny them the prerogatives by which they lived, in which they had grown up and been educated, and to which they were accustomed. At the bottom of their hearts they did not believe in the Church teaching, which had outlived its time and no longer had any true meaning for them, and since they were unable to adopt true Christianity, the people of these wealthy ruling classes — popes, kings, dukes, and all the mighty of this world — were left without any religion, with nothing but its external forms, which they maintained, considering it not only profitable but necessary for themselves, since this teaching justified the advantages they enjoyed. Essentially, these people did not believe in anything, just as the educated Romans of the first centuries did not believe in anything. And yet the power and wealth were in their hands, and it was they who encouraged art and guided it. And so it was among these people that an art began to grow up which was evaluated not by how well it expressed feelings resulting from the people¡¯s religious consciousness, but only by how beautiful it was — in other words, how much pleasure it afforded.

À¯ÀÏÇÑ Â÷ÀÌ´Â, ½Å°ú °°Àº ȲÁ¦µé ¹× °¡Á· ½Åµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ½Å¾ÓÀ» »ó½ÇÇÑ ·Î¸¶ÀεéÀÌ, ±×µéÀÌ Á¤º¹Çß´ø ¸ðµç ¹ÎÁß¿¡°Ô¼­ Â÷¿ëÇß´ø º¹ÀâÇÑ ¸ðµç ½ÅÈ­µé¿¡¼­ ´õ ÀÌ»ó »Ì¾Æ ³¾ °ÍÀÌ ¾ø¾îÁöÀÚ, ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î »õ·Î¿î ¼¼°è°üÀ» ¼ö¿ëÇß´ø ¹Ý¸é¿¡, ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡Å縯 °¡¸£Ä§ÀÇ Áø¸®¸¦ ÀǽÉÇÑ Áß¼¼ ¹ÎÁßµéÀº »õ·Î¿î °¡¸£Ä§À» ±¸ÇÒ Çʿ䰡 ¾ø¾ú´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±× °°Àº ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§Àº, ±×µéÀÌ ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡Å縯 ½Å¾ÓÀ¸·Î ¿Ö°îµÈ ¸ð½ÀÀ¸·Î °í¹éÇß´ø °ÍÀ̸ç, Àηù¸¦ À§ÇØ Àú ¸Ö¸® ±îÁö ±æÀ» ¿¹ºñÇ߱⿡ ±×µéÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×¸®½ºµµ°¡ ¹ß°ßÇÑ °¡¸£Ä§À» °¡¸®´Â ¿Ö°îµéÀ» ¹ö¸®°í ±×°ÍÀ», Àüü´Â ¾Æ´Ï¶óµµ, Àû¾îµµ ±× ÀǹÌÀÇ ÀÛÀº ÀϺΠ¸¸À̶óµµ, äÅÃÇϱ⸸ ÇÏ¸é µÇ¾ú´Ù (ÇÏÁö¸¸, ±³È¸°¡ äÅÃÇÑ °Íº¸´Ù Å« °ÍÀÌ´Ù). ¹Ù·Î ÀÌ·± ÀÏÀº ºÎºÐÀûÀ¸·Î À§Å¬¸®ÇÁ, Ç㽺, ·çÅÍ, Ä®ºóÀÇ °³Çõ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ºñ ±³È¸ ±×¸®½ºµµÀεé Àüü ¿îµ¿¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ ÇàÇØÁ³À¸¸ç, Ãʱ⿡´Â Æú¸®½Ã¾È, º¸°í¹Ð, ¹× ÈıâÀÇ ¿Ðµµ½Ã¾Èµé, ±×¸®°í ¼ÒÀ§ ºÐÆÄÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀ̶ó ºÒ¸®´Â ´Ù¸¥ ¸ðµç ºñ ±³È¸ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³Àε鿡 ÀÇÇØ ³ªÅ¸³µ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ À̰ÍÀº °¡³­ÇÑ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ ÀÌ·ç¾î Áú ¼ö ÀÖ¾ú°í ÀÌ·ç¾î Á³Áö¸¸, ÈûÀÖ´Â Àڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ¼­´Â ¾Æ´Ï¾ú´Ù. ºÎ¿Í ±Ç·ÂÀ» Áö´Ñ ÀÚµé Áß ÇÁ¶õ½Ã½º ¾Æ½Ã½Ã µî°ú °°ÀÌ ¿ÀÁ÷ ¸î ¸¸ÀÌ, ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§ÀÌ ±×µéÀÇ À¯¸®ÇÑ ÁöÀ§¸¦ ÆÄ±«ÇÔ¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí, ±×°ÍÀ» ÀÌ °°ÀÌ Áß¿äÇÑ Àǹ̷Π¹Þ¾Æµé¿´´Ù. »ó·ù °è±ÞÀÇ ´ëºÎºÐÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀº, ±×µéÀÇ ¸¶À½ ¹Ø¹Ù´Ú¿¡¼­ ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¹ÏÀ½À» ÀÌ¹Ì »ó½ÇÇØ ¹ö·ÈÁö¸¸, ±×·¸°Ô ÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú°Å³ª ±×·¸°Ô ÇÒ Àǻ簡 ¾ø¾ú´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé, ±×µéÀÌ ±³È¸ÀÇ ½Å¾ÓÀ» Æ÷±âÇϱâ¶óµµ ÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×µéÀÌ Ã¤ÅÃÇÏ°Ô µÉ ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ ¼¼»ó¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Àü¸ÁÀÇ ÇÙ½ÉÀº, ÇüÁ¦¾ÖÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§ ±×·¯¹Ç·Î »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ÆòµîÀ̸ç, ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ °¡¸£Ä§Àº ±×µéÀÌ ´©·Á¿Ô´ø, ±×µéÀÌ Àڶ󳪼­ ±³À°¹Þ¾Æ ¿ÔÀ¸¸ç ±×µéÀÌ ÀûÀÀÇØ ¿Ô´ø, Ư±ÇµéÀ» ºÎÁ¤ÇÒ °ÍÀ̱⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ±×µé ¸¶À½ ¹Ø¹Ù´Ú¿¡¼­ ±×µéÀº ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§À» ¹ÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò°í, ±×°ÍÀº ±× ½Ã´ë¿¡ ¸ÂÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ¸¸ç ±×µé¿¡°Ô À־ ´õ ÀÌ»ó ¾î¶² ÂüµÈ Àǹ̸¦ °¡ÁöÁö ¸øÇß°í, ±×¸®°í ±×µéÀÌ ÂüµÈ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³¸¦ äÅÃÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú±â ¶§¹®¿¡, ÀÌµé ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ Áö¹è °è±Þµé — ±³È²µé, ¿Õµé, ±ºÁÖµé,±×¸®°í ÀÌ ¼¼»óÀÇ ¸ðµç ±Ç·ÂÀÚµé — ÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀº ¾î¶² Á¾±³µµ °®Áö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ¸¸ç ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×°ÍÀÇ ¿ÜÀûÀÎ Çüŵ鸸 Áö´Ï°Ô µÇ¾ú°í, ÀÌ °¡¸£Ä§ÀÌ ±×µéÀÌ ´©¸®´ø ÀÌÀ͵éÀ» Á¤´çÈ­½ÃÄױ⠶§¹®¿¡, ±×°ÍÀº ±×µé ÀÚ½ÅÀ» À§ÇØ ÀÌÀÍÀÌ µÉ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ÇÊ¿äÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©±â¸é¼­ À̰ÍÀ» À¯ÁöÇÏ¿´´Ù. ±Ùº»ÀûÀ¸·Î, óÀ½ ¸î ¼¼±â µ¿¾È ±³À°¹ÞÀº ·Î¸¶ÀεéÀÌ ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ¹ÏÁö ¾ÊÀº °Íó·³, ÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀº ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ¹ÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±Ç·Â°ú ºÎ´Â ±×µéÀÇ ¼Õ ¾È¿¡ µé¾î ÀÖ¾úÀ¸¸ç, ¿¹¼úÀ» Àå·ÁÇÏ°í ±×°ÍÀ» À̲ö °ÍÀº ¹Ù·Î ±×µéÀ̾ú´Ù. ±×·¡¼­ ¹Ù·Î ÀÌ »ç¶÷µé ¾È¿¡¼­ ÇϳªÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÌ Àڶ󳪱⠽ÃÀÛÇßÀ¸¸ç, ±×°ÍÀº ¹ÎÁßÀÇ Á¾±³Àû ÀǽĿ¡¼­ ºñ·ÔµÇ´Â ´À³¦µéÀ» ¾ó¸¶³ª Àß Ç¥ÇöÇϴ°¡°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×°ÍÀÌ ¾ó¸¶³ª ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿îÁö — ´Ù½Ã ¸»Çϸé, ±×°ÍÀÌ ¾ó¸¶³ª ¸¹Àº Äè¶ôÀ» Á¦°øÇÏ´ÂÁö — ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ Æò°¡µÇ¾ú´Ù.

No longer able to believe in the Church religion, which had betrayed its own lie, and unable to adopt the true Christian teaching, which denied their entire life, these wealthy and powerful people, being left without any religious understanding of life, returned willy-nilly to that pagan world view which locates the meaning of life in personal pleasure. Thus there occurred among the upper classes what is known as ¡®the Renaissance of science and art¡¯, which essentially was not merely the denial of any religion, but also the recognition of its needlessness.

´õ ÀÌ»ó ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °ÅÁþÀ» ¹è¹ÝÇÏ´Â ±³È¸ Á¾±³¸¦ ¹ÏÀ» ¼ö ¾ø¾ú°í, ±×µéÀÇ Àüü »îÀ» ºÎÀÎÇÏ´Â ÂüµÈ ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§µé äÅÃÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú±â¿¡, ÀÌµé ºÎ¿Í ±Ç·ÂÀ» Áö´Ñ »ç¶÷µéÀº, »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¾Æ¹«·± Á¾±³Àû ±ú´ÞÀ½À» »ó½ÇÇÑ Ã¤, ¾î¿ ¼ö ¾øÀÌ »îÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ °³ÀÎÀû Äè¶ô¿¡ µÎ´Â À̱³Àû ¼¼°è°üÀ¸·Î µ¹¾Æ¼¹´ø °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© »ó·ù °è±Þµé¿¡¼­ 'Çй®°ú ¿¹¼úÀÇ ºÎÈï'À̶ó°í ¾Ë·ÁÁø °ÍÀÌ ¹ß»ýÇßÀ¸¸ç, ±×°ÍÀº ±Ùº»ÀûÀ¸·Î ¸ðµç Á¾±³ÀÇ ºÎÁ¤ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±× ºÒÇÊ¿äÇÔÀÇ ÀνÄÀ̾ú´Ù.

The Church teaching, especially the Roman Catholic, is such a coherent system that it cannot be changed or corrected without destroying the whole. As soon as there emerged a doubt of the infallibility of the popes [45] — and this doubt emerged then in all educated people — there inevitably emerged a doubt of the truth of Catholic tradition. And doubt of the truth of the Catholic tradition demolished not only the papacy and Catholicism, but the entire faith of the Church, with all its dogmas, the divinity of Christ, the Resurrection, the Trinity; it also destroyed the authority of the Scriptures, because the Scriptures were recognized as sacred only because tradition had decided so.

±³È¸ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§Àº, ƯÈ÷ ·Î¸¶ °¡Å縯Àº, ³Ê¹«³ª ¹ÐÂøµÈ ü°è¶ó¼­ Àüü¸¦ ÆÄ±«ÇÔÀÌ ¾øÀÌ´Â º¯È­µÉ ¼öµµ ±³Á¤µÉ ¼öµµ ¾ø´Â °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù. ±³È²µéÀÇ ¹«¿À·ù¼º¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Àǹ®ÀÌ ³ªÅ¸³ªÀÚ ¸¶ÀÚ — ±×¸®°í ÀÌ °°Àº ÀÇȤÀº ¸ðµç ±³À°¹ÞÀº »ç¶÷µé ¾È¿¡¼­ ³ªÅ¸³µ´Ù — °¡Å縯 Àü½ÂÀÇ Áø½Ç¼º¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÇȤµµ ÇÊ¿¬ÀûÀ¸·Î ³ªÅ¸³µ´Ù. ±×¸®°í °¡Å縯 Àü½ÂÀÇ Áø½Ç¼º¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÇȤÀº ±³È²±Ç ¹× °¡Å縯±³ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, Àüü ±³È¸ÀÇ ½Å¾Ó¸¶Àú, ±× ¸ðµç ±³¸®µé, ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ ½Å¼º, ºÎȰ, »ïÀ§ÀÏü µî°ú ÇÔ²² ºØ±«½ÃÄ×´Ù; ±×°ÍÀº ¶ÇÇÑ ¼º¼­µéÀÇ ±ÇÀ§¸¦ ÆÄ±«Çß´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ¼º¼­µéÀº ¿À·ÎÁö Àü½ÂÀÌ ±×·¸°Ô °áÁ¤Çß¾ú±â ¶§¹®¿¡ ½Å¼ºÇÏ°Ô ¿©°ÜÁ³±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

Thus the majority of upper-class people at that time, even the popes and clerics, essentially did not believe in anything. They did not believe in the Church teaching, because they saw its unsoundness; nor Could they recognize the moral, social teaching of Christ, as it had been recognized by Francis of Assisi, Kelchitsky [46] and most of the sectarians, because this teaching would destroy their social position. So these people remained without any religious world view. And, having no religious world view, they could not have any other standard for evaluating good and bad art than personal pleasure. Having recognized pleasure — that is, beauty — as the standard of what is good, people of the upper classes of European society returned in their understanding of art to the crude understanding of the primitive Greeks, already condemned by Plato. And, in correspondence with this understanding, a theory of art took shape among them.

ÀÌ·¸°Ô ÇØ¼­ ±× ½Ã´ëÀÇ ´ë´Ù¼ö »ó·ù °è±ÞÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀº, ½ÉÁö¾î ±³È²µé ¹× ¼ºÁ÷Àڵ鸶Àú, ±Ùº»ÀûÀ¸·Î ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ¹ÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù. ±×µéÀº ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§À» ¹ÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×µéÀº ±×°ÍÀÇ Å¸¶ôÇÔÀ» º¸¾Ò±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù; ±×µéÀº ¶ÇÇÑ, ÇÁ¶õ½Ã½º ¾Æ½Ã½Ã, ÄÌÄ¡½ºÅ°¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀνĵǴø °Í °°Àº, ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ µµ´öÀû »çȸÀû °¡¸£Ä§µµ ÀÎÁ¤ÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé ÀÌ °¡¸£Ä§ÀÌ ±×µéÀÇ »çȸÀû ÁöÀ§¸¦ ÆÄ±«ÇÒ °ÍÀ̱⠶§¹®À̾ú´Ù. ±×·¡¼­ ÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀº ¾Æ¹«·± Á¾±³Àû ¼¼°è°üÀ» Áö´ÏÁö ¾Ê°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×¸®°í, ¾Æ¹«·± Á¾±³Àû ¼¼°è°üÀ» Áö´ÏÁö ¾Ê°Ô µÇÀÚ, ±×µéÀº °³ÀÎÀû Äè¶ô ¿Ü¿¡ ¼±ÇÏ°í ¾ÇÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀ» Æò°¡ÇÒ ´Ù¸¥ ¾î¶² ±âÁصµ °¡Áú ¼ö ¾ø¾ú´Ù. Äè¶ô — Áï, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò — À» ¼±ÀÇ Ç¥ÁØÀ¸·Î ÀÎÁ¤ÇÏ°í ³ªÀÚ, À¯·´ »çȸÀÇ »ó·ù °è±ÞÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀº ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±×µéÀÇ ÀÌÇØ¿¡ À־ ¿ø½ÃÀûÀÎ ±×¸®½ºÀεéÀÇ À¯Ä¡ÇÑ ÀÌÇØ·Î µ¹¾Æ°¬À¸¸ç, À̰ÍÀº ÀÌ¹Ì ÇöóÅæÀÌ ºñ³­ÇÏ´ø °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÀÌ·± ÀÌÇØ¿¡ ¸ÂÃ߾, ¿¹¼ú ÀÌ·ÐÀÌ ±×µé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ ¸ð½ÀÀ» °®±â ½ÃÀÛÇß´Ù.

¡¡

¡¡

VII

¡¡ ¡¡

Since the time when people of the upper classes lost their faith in Church Christianity, the standard of good and bad art has been beauty — that is, the pleasure afforded by art — and in correspondence with this view of art, an aesthetic theory has taken shape of itself among the upper classes, justifying such an understanding — a theory according to which the aim of art is the manifestation of beauty. The adherents of this aesthetic theory, to confirm its correctness, assert that it was not invented by them, that it lies at the essence of things and was already recognized by the ancient Greeks. But this assertion is completely arbitrary and has no other basis than the fact that for the ancient Greeks, with their lower moral ideal (as compared with the Christian), the idea of the good was not yet sharply distinguished — from the idea of the beautiful .

»ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±³È¸ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±×µéÀÇ ½Å¾ÓÀ» ÀÒÀº ½Ã´ë ÀÌÈÄ·Î, ¼±ÇÏ°í ¾ÇÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÇ Ç¥ÁØÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò — Áï, ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Á¦°øµÇ´Â Äè¶ô — ÀÌ µÇ¾úÀ¸¸ç, ÀÌ °°Àº ¿¹¼ú°ü¿¡ ¸ÂÃ߾, ÇϳªÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐ ÀÌ·ÐÀÌ »ó·ù °è±Þµé »çÀÌ¿¡ ½º½º·Î ¸ð¾çÀ» °®Ãß¾úÀ¸¸ç, ±×·¯ÇÑ ÀÌÇØ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ̶ó´Â À̷и¦ ÇÕ¸®È­ÇÏ¿´´Ù. ÀÌ·± ¹ÌÇÐ ÀÌ·ÐÀÇ ½ÅºÀÀÚµéÀº, ±×°ÍÀÇ Á¤È®¼ºÀ» È®¾ðÇϱâ À§Çؼ­, ±×°ÍÀÌ ±×µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ â¾ÈµÈ °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó´Â °Í, ±×°ÍÀº »ç¹°µéÀÇ º»Áú¿¡ ³õ¿© ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ÀÌ¹Ì °í´ë ±×¸®½ºÀε鿡 ÀÇÇØ ÀÎÁ¤µÇ¾ú´Ù°í ´Ü¾ðÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ÀÌ·± ´Ü¾ðÀº ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ µ¶´ÜÀûÀÌ¸ç °í´ë ±×¸®½ºÀε鿡°Ô À־, ±×µéÀÇ (±×¸®½ºµµ±³¿Í ºñ±³ÇÏ¿©) Àú±ÞÇÑ  µµ´öÀû ÀÌ»ó°ú ÇÔ²², ¼±ÀÇ °³³äÀº¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀ¸·ÎºÎÅ;ÆÁ÷ Á¤È®ÇÏ°Ô ±¸º°µÇÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù´Â »ç½Ç ¿Ü¿¡ ¾Æ¹«·± ±Ù°Å¸¦ °®Áö ¸øÇÑ´Ù.

The highest perfection of the good, not only not coincident with beauty, but mainly opposed to it, which the Jews already knew in the time of Isaiah and which was fully expressed by Christianity, was completely unknown to the Greeks. They thought that the beautiful must necessarily also be good. True, the foremost thinkers — Socrates, Plato, Aristotle — sensed that the good might not coincide with beauty. Socrates expressly subordinated beauty to the good; Plato, in order to unite the two ideas, spoke of a spiritual beauty; Aristotle demanded that art affect people morally , [47] but even these thinkers still could not entirely renounce the notion that beauty and the good coincide.

¼±ÀÇ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¿Ï¼ºÀº, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ÁÖ·Î ±×°Í°ú ´ëÄ¡µÇ¸ç, ±×°ÍÀº À¯´ëÀεéÀº ÀÌ¹Ì ÀÌ»ç¾ß ½Ã´ë¿¡ ¾Ë¾ÒÀ¸¸ç ±×¸®½ºµµ±³¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ Ç¥ÇöµÇ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, ±×¸®½ºÀε鿡°Ô´Â ÀüÇô ¾Ë·ÁÁ® ÀÖÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù. ±×µéÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¹Ýµå½Ã  ÇÊ¿¬ÀûÀ¸·Î ¶ÇÇÑ ¼±ÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù°í »ý°¢Çß´Ù. »ç½Ç, °¡Àå Áß¿äÇÑ »ç»ó°¡µé — ¼ÒÅ©¶óÅ×½º, ÇöóÅæ, ¾Æ¸®½ºÅäÅÚ·¹½º — Àº ¼±Àº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ´À²¼´Ù. ¼ÒÅ©¶óÅ×½º´Â ¸í¹éÈ÷ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ¼±¿¡ Á¾¼Ó½ÃÄ×´Ù; ÇöóÅæÀº, µÎ °¡Áö °³³äµéÀ» °áÇÕÇϱâ À§ÇØ, Á¤½ÅÀû ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» À̾߱â Çß´Ù; ¾Æ¸®½ºÅäÅÚ·¹½º´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô µµ´öÀûÀ¸·Î ¿µÇâÀ» ÁÖ¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù°í ¿ä±¸Çß´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ½ÉÁö¾î ÀÌµé »ç»ó°¡µéµµ ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ¼±ÀÌ ÀÏÄ¡ÇÑ´Ù´Â °ßÇØ¸¦ ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î Æ÷±âÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú´Ù.

And therefore in the language of that time there came into use the compound word (beautiful-goodness) to signify this combined notion.

±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ±× ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¾ð¾î¿¡¼­ º¹ÇÕ¾î (¹Ì¼±)°¡ »ç¿ëµÇ¾î¼­ ÀÌ·± È¥ÇÕµÈ °³³äÀ» ÀǹÌÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù.

Greek thinkers were obviously beginning to approach the concept of the good expressed by Buddhism and Christianity, and were confused in establishing relations between the good and beauty. Plato¡¯s judgments about beauty and the good are full of contradictions. And it was this very confusion of concepts that the people of the European world, who had lost all faith, tried to make into law. They tried to prove that this combination of beauty and good lies at the very essence of the matter, that beauty and the good must coincide, that the word and concept of `, which had meaning for the Greeks, but which has no meaning at all for a Christian, represents the highest ideal of mankind. On this misunderstanding the new science of aesthetics was erected. And in order to justify this new science, the ancient teaching on art was reinterpreted in such fashion as to make it seem that this made-up science had also existed among the Greeks.

±×¸®½º »ç»ó°¡µéÀº ºÐ¸íÈ÷ ºÒ±³ ¹× ±×¸®½ºµµ±³¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Ç¥ÇöµÈ ¼±ÀÇ °³³ä¿¡ ´Ù°¡°¡°í ÀÖ¾úÀ¸¸ç, ¼±°ú ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò »çÀÌÀÇ °ü°è¸¦ ¼³Á¤ÇÔ¿¡ È¥¶õ½º·¯¿ü´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ¼±¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÇöóÅæÀÇ ÆÇ´ÜÀº ¸ð¼øµé·Î °¡µæ Â÷ ÀÖ´Ù. ±×¸®°í À¯·´ ¼¼°èÀÇ ¹ÎÁßµéÀÌ, ½Å¾ÓÀ» ÀÒ°í ³ª¼­, ±Ô¹üÀ¸·Î ¸¸µé°íÀÚ ½ÃµµÇß´ø °ÍÀº ¹Ù·Î ÀÌ °°Àº °³³äµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ È¥¶õÀ̾ú´Ù. ±×µéÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ¼±ÀÇ °áÇÕÀÌ ¹°ÁúÀÇ º»Áú ÀÚü¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ», ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ¼±Àº ¹Ýµå½Ã ÀÏÄ¡ÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ», ¶ó´Â ´Ü¾î ¹× °³³äÀº, ±×¸®½ºÀε鿡°Ô Àǹ̰¡ ÀÖ¾úÁö¸¸, ±×¸®½ºµµ±³Àο¡°Ô ÀüÇô ¾Æ¹«·± Àǹ̰¡ ¾ø´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, ÀηùÀÇ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ÀÌ»óÀ» ³ªÅ¸³½´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» Áõ¸íÇÏ·Á ¾Ö½è´Ù. ÀÌ·± ¿ÀÇØ À§¿¡ ¹ÌÇÐÀ̶ó´Â »õ·Î¿î Çй®ÀÌ ¼¼¿öÁ³´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÀÌ »õ·Î¿î Çй®À» ÇÕ¸®È­Çϱâ À§ÇØ, ¿¹¼ú¿¡ °üÇÑ °í´ëÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§Àº, ÀÌ °°Àº ³¯Á¶µÈ Çй®ÀÌ ±×¸®½ºÀÎµé »çÀÌ¿¡µµ ¿ª½Ã Á¸Àç Çß´ø °Íó·³ º¸À̵µ·Ï, ÀçÇØ¼®µÇ¾ú´Ù.

In fact, the reasoning of the ancients about art did not resemble ours at all. Thus Benard writes quite correctly, in his book on Aristotle¡¯s aesthetics: ¡®Pour qui veut y regarder de près, la théorie du beau et celle de l¡¯art sont tout à fait séparées dans Aristote, comme elles le sont dans Platan et chez leurs successeurs.¡¯ [48]

»ç½Ç, ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °í´ëÀεéÀÇ Ãß·ÐÀº ÀüÇô ¿ì¸® °ÍÀ» ´ãÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù. ±×·¡¼­ ¹ö³ªµå´Â, ¾Æ¸®½ºÅäÅÚ·¹½ºÀÇ ¹ÌÇп¡ °üÇÑ ±×ÀÇ Ã¥¿¡¼­, ¸Å¿ì Á¤È®ÇÏ°Ô ±â·ÏÇϰí ÀÖ´Ù: '±×°ÍÀ» ÁÖÀÇ ±í°Ô º¸°íÀÚ ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô´Â, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ÀÌ·Ð ¹× ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÀÌ·ÐÀº ¾Æ¸®½ºÅäÅÚ·¹½º¿¡°Ô À־, ÇöóÅæÀ̳ª ±×ÀÇ °è½ÂÀÚµéó·³, ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ºÐ¸®µÈ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.'

And indeed the reasoning of the ancients on art not only does not confirm our aesthetics, but rather denies its teaching on beauty. And yet all aestheticians, from Schassler to Knight, maintain that the science of the beautiful — aesthetics — was initiated by the ancients — Socrates, Plato, Aristotle — and was supposedly continued to some extent by the Epicureans and the Stoics — Seneca, Plutarch, and up to Plotinus; but that as the result of some accident, this science somehow suddenly disappeared in the fourth century, was absent for fifteen hundred years, and only after this gap of fifteen hundred years was revived again in Germany, in 1750, in the teaching of Baumgarten.

±×¸®°í »ç½Ç ¿¹¼ú¿¡ °üÇÑ °í´ëÀεéÀÇ Ãß·ÐÀº ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¹ÌÇÐÀ» È®ÀÎÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¿ÀÈ÷·Á ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±× °¡¸£Ä§À» ºÎÁ¤ÇÑ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¸ðµç ¹ÌÇÐÀÚµéÀº, »þ½½·¯¿¡¼­ ³ªÀÌÆ®±îÁö, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Çй® — ¹ÌÇÐ — Àº °í´ëÀÎµé — ¼ÒÅ©¶óÅ×½º, ÇöóÅæ, ¾Æ¸®½ºÅäÅÚ·¹½º — ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ È¿½ÃµÇ¾úÀ¸¸ç ÇÊ°æ ¾î´À Á¤µµ±îÁö´Â ¿¡ÇDZԷ¯½º ÇÐÆÄ ¹× ½ºÅ侯 ÇÐÆÄµé —¼¼³×Ä«, Ç÷çŸũ, ±×¸®°í ÇÃ·ÎÆ¼´©½º±îÁö — ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ Áö¼ÓµÇ¾ú´Ù°í ÁÖÀåÇÑ´Ù; ±×·¯³ª ¾î¶² ¿ì¿¬ÀÇ °á°ú·Î, ÀÌ Çй®Àº ¾î·µç 4¼¼±â¿¡ »ç¶óÁ³À¸¸ç, 1500³â µ¿¾È ¾ø´Ù°¡, ¿ÀÁ÷ ÀÌó·³ 1500³âÀ̶ó´Â ½ÃÂ÷ ÈÄ¿¡, 1750³â µ¶ÀÏ¿¡¼­, ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§À¸·Î ºÎȰµÇ¾ú´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù..

After Plotinus, says Schassler, fifteen centuries went by during which there was not the slightest scientific interest in the world of beauty and art. Those one and a half thousand years were lost for aesthetics and for the working out of the scholarly structure of this science. [49]

»þ½½·¯´Â ¸»Çϱ⸦, ÇÃ·ÎÆ¼´©½º ÈÄ¿¡, 15¼¼±â°¡ Èê·¯°¬À¸¸ç ±× ±â°£ µ¿¾È ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÃÖ¼ÒÇÑÀÇ Çй®Àû °ü½Éµµ ¾ø¾ú´Ù°í ÇÑ´Ù. ±× 1500³âÀº ¹ÌÇп¡ À־ ±×¸®°í ÀÌ·± Çй®ÀÇ Çмú ±¸Á¶¸¦ »êÃâÇÔ¿¡ À־ ÀÒ¾î ¹ö¸° ½Ã±â¿´´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

In fact, it was nothing of the sort. The science of aesthetics, the science of the beautiful, did not disappear and could not disappear, because it never existed. The Greeks, like all other peoples always and everywhere, simply regarded art, like any other matter, as good only when it served the good (as they understood it) and bad when it was opposed to this good. The Greeks themselves were so little developed morally that they thought beauty and the good coincided, and on this backward world view of the Greeks was erected the science of aesthetics made up by men of the eighteenth century, and especially turned into a theory by Baumgarten. The Greeks (as anyone can be convinced by reading Benard¡¯s excellent book on Aristotle and his followers, and Walter¡¯s book on Plato) never had any science of aesthetics.

»ç½Ç, °áÄÚ ±×·± °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. ¹ÌÇÐÀ̶õ Çй®, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ Çй®Àº, »ç¶óÁöÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ¸¸ç »ç¶óÁú ¼öµµ ¾ø¾ú´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀº °áÄÚ Á¸ÀçÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®½ºÀεéÀº ´Ü¼øÈ÷, ¾ðÁ¦ ¾î´À °÷¿¡¼­³ª ´Ù¸¥ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéó·³, ´Ù¸¥ ¾î¶² ¹®Á¦Ã³·³, ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×°ÍÀÌ (±×µéÀÌ ÀÌÇØÇÏ´ø °Íó·³) ¼±À» À§ÇÑ °ÍÀÌ¸é ¼±ÇÑ °ÍÀ̸ç ÀÌ·± ¼±¿¡ ¹Ý´ëµÇ¸é ¾ÇÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©°å´Ù. ±×¸®½ºÀÎµé ½º½º·Î´Â µµ´öÀûÀ¸·Î ¹ßÀüÀÌ ³Ê¹« ³·¾Æ¼­ ±×µéÀº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ¼±ÀÌ ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î »ý°¢ÇßÀ¸¸ç ±×¸®½ºÀεéÀÇ ÀÌ·± ÈÄÁøÀû ¼¼°è°ü À§¿¡ 18¼¼±âÀÇ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ³¯Á¶µÈ ¹ÌÇÐÀ̶õ Çй®ÀÌ ¼¼¿öÁ³À¸¸ç, Ưº°È÷ ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀÌ·ÐÀ¸·Î º¯¸ðµÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×¸®½ºÀεéÀº (¹ö³ªµåÀÇ ¾Æ¸®½ºÅäÅÚ·¹½º¿Í ±×ÀÇ ÃßÁ¾Àڵ鿡 °üÇÑ ÈǸ¢ÇÑ Ã¥, ±×¸®°í ÇöóÅæ¿¡ °üÇÑ ¿ùÅÍÀÇ Ã¥À» ÀÐ¾î º¸¸é ´©±¸¶óµµ ³³µæÇϰÚÁö¸¸) °áÄÚ ¹ÌÇÐÀ̶õ Çй®À» °¡Áø ÀûÀÌ ¾ø¾ú´Ù.

Aesthetic theories, and the very name of this science, emerged about one hundred and fifty years ago among the wealthy classes of the Christian European world, simultaneously in various nations — Italian, Dutch, French, English. Its founder, its shaper, the one who gave it scientific, theoretical form, was Baumgarten.

¹ÌÇÐ À̷еéÀº, ±×¸®°í ÀÌ Çй®ÀÇ À̸§ ÀÚü´Â, 150³â Àü¿¡ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ À¯·´ ¼¼°èÀÇ ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ °è±Þµé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­, µ¿½Ã¿¡ ´Ù¾çÇÑ ³ª¶óµé — ÀÌÅ»¸®¾Æ, ³×´ú¶õµå, ÇÁ¶û½º, ¿µ±¹ — ¿¡¼­ µîÀåÇß´Ù. ±× â½ÃÀÚ, ±× Çü¼ºÀÚ, ±×°Í¿¡ Çй®Àû, ÀÌ·ÐÀû ÇüŸ¦ ºÎ¿©ÇÑ »ç¶÷Àº, ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙÀ̾ú´Ù.

With the pedantic external thoroughness and symmetry typical of the Germans, he invented and expounded this astonishing theory. And, in spite of its striking baselessness, no other theory ever suited so well the taste of the cultured mob, or was adopted with such readiness and absence of criticism. This theory suited the taste of the upper classes so well that to this day, despite its complete arbitrariness and the non-substantiation of its theses, it is repeated by the learned and the unlearned as something indisputable and self-evident.

µ¶ÀÏÀε鿡°Ô Ư¡ÀÎ ÇöÇÐÀû ¿ÜÀû Ä¡¹ÐÇÔ ¹× ±ÕÇü°¨°¢À¸·Î, ±×´Â ÀÌ ³î¶ó¿î ÀÌ·ÐÀ» â¾ÈÇϰí ÇØ¼®ÇÏ¿´´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×°ÍÀÇ µÎµå·¯Áø Å͹«´Ï ¾øÀ½¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí, ´Ù¸¥ ¾î¶² À̷еµ ±³¾ç ÀÖ´Â ±ºÁßµéÀÇ ÃëÇâ¿¡ ±×·¸°Ô ÈǸ¢ÇÏ°Ô ¸Â¾Æ ¶³¾îÁø ÀûÀº ¾ø¾úÀ¸¸ç, ȤÀº ±×Åä·Ï ½Å¼ÓÇÏ°Ô ±×¸®°í ¹«ºñÆÇÀûÀ¸·Î äÅÃµÈ ÀûÀº ¾ø¾ú´Ù. ÀÌ ÀÌ·ÐÀº »ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ ÃëÇâ¿¡ ³Ê¹«³ª ÈǸ¢ÇÏ°Ô ¸Â¾Æ¼­, ±×°ÍÀÇ µ¶´Ü¼º ¹× ±× ³íÁ¦µéÀÇ ½Åºù ¾øÀ½¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí, ±×°ÍÀº ½ÄÀÚµé ¹× ¹«½ÄÀڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ¼­ ³í¶õÀÇ ¿©Áö°¡ ¾øÀ¸¸ç ÀÚ¸íÇÑ ¾î¶² °ÍÀ¸·Î µÇÇ®ÀÌ µÇ¾ú´Ù.

Habent sua fata libelli pro capite lectoris, [50] and still more so habent sua fata the particular theories that come from the state of delusion that society is in, amidst which and for the sake of which these theories are devised. If a theory justifies the false position which a certain part of society is in, then, however baseless and even obviously false the theory may be, it will get adopted and become the belief of that part of society. Such, for instance, is the famous and totally baseless theory of Malthus [51] about the earth¡¯s population increasing in geometrical progression while food resources increase only in arithmetical progression, the result being the overpopulation of the earth. Such, too, is the theory, grown out of Malthus, of selection and the struggle for existence as the basis of human progress. Such, too, is the now widely spread theory of Marx that economic progress is inevitable and consists in the swallowing up of all private enterprises by capitalism. However baseless theories of this sort may be, however contradictory they may be to everything mankind knows and recognizes, however obviously immoral they may be, they are accepted on faith, without criticism, and are preached with passionate enthusiasm, sometimes for centuries, until the conditions they justify are done away with or the absurdity of the theories becomes too obvious. Such, too, is the astonishing theory of Baumgarten¡¯s trinity — Good, Truth and Beauty — according to which it turns out that the best that can be done by the art of peoples who have lived eighteen hundred years of Christian life is to adopt as its ideal the same one that was held by a small, half-savage, slave-owning people two thousand years ago, who portrayed naked human bodies very well and built buildings pleasing to the eye. No one notices any of these incongruities. Learned men write long, vaporous treatises on beauty as one member of the aesthetic trinity: the beautiful, the true, the good. Das Schöne, das Wahre, das Gute — le Beau, le Vrai, le Bon — with capital letters, are repeated by philosophers, aestheticians, artists, private individuals, novelists, pamphleteers, and everyone seems to think that in pronouncing these sacramental words they are speaking of something quite definite and firm — something on which one can base one¡¯s judgments. In fact, these words not only have no definite meaning, but they hinder us from giving any definite meaning to existing art, and are needed only to justify the false significance we ascribe to art that conveys all sorts of feelings, so long as these feelings afford us pleasure.

Ã¥µéÀº ±× µ¶ÀÚµéÀÇ ÀÌÇØ¿¡ µû¶ó ±× ¿î¸íÀ» Áö´Ñ´Ù(Habent sua fata libelli pro capite lectoris), ±×¸®°í ±× »çȸ°¡ óÇÑ ¸Á»óÀÇ »óÅ¿¡¼­ ºñ·ÔµÇ´Â ƯÁ¤ÇÑ À̷еéÀº ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ´õ¿í ±× ¿î¸íÀ» Áö´Ñ´Ù (habent sua fata), ¶ÇÇÑ ±×°Íµé °¡¿îµ¥¼­ ±×¸®°í ±×°ÍµéÀ» À§ÇØ À̵é À̷еéÀÌ °í¾ÈµÈ´Ù. ¸¸ÀÏ ¾î¶² ÀÌ·ÐÀÌ »çȸÀÇ ¾î¶² ÀϺΰ¡ óÇÑ À§¼±Àû À§Ä¡¸¦ Á¤´çÈ­ÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±× ÀÌ·ÐÀÌ ¾Æ¹«¸® ±Ù°Å ¾ø°í ½ÉÁö¾î ¸í¹éÈ÷ À§¼±ÀûÀ̶ó ÇÒÁö¶óµµ, ±×°ÍÀº äÅõǾîÁ®¼­ ±× »çȸ ÀϺÎÀÇ ¹ÏÀ½ÀÌ µÈ´Ù. ±×¿Í °°Àº °ÍÀº, ¿¹¸¦ µéÀÚ¸é, À¯¸íÇϰí ÀüÇô ±Ù°Å ¾ø´Â ¸È´õ½ºÀÇ ÀÌ·ÐÀ¸·Î, Áö±¸ÀÇ Àα¸´Â ±âÇϱ޼öÀûÀ¸·Î ´À´Â ¹Ý¸é ½Ä·®Àº ¿ÀÁ÷ »ê¼ú±Þ¼öÀûÀ¸·Î ´Ã¾î¼­, ±× °á°ú´Â Áö±¸ÀÇ Àα¸ °úÀ×ÀÌ µÈ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¿ª½Ã ±×¿Í °°Àº °ÍÀº, ¸È´õ½º·ÎºÎÅÍ ÀÚ¶ó³­ °ÍÀ¸·Î, Àΰ£ÀÇ Áøº¸ÀÇ °úÁ¤ÀÇ Åä´ë·Î¼­ÀÇ ÀûÀÚ»ýÁ¸ ÀÌ·ÐÀÌ´Ù. ¿ª½Ã ±×¿Í °°Àº °ÍÀº Áö±Ý ³Î¸® ÆÛÁ® ÀÖ´Â ¸¶¸£Å©½ºÀÇ ÀÌ·ÐÀ¸·Î¼­, °æÁ¦Àû Áøº¸´Â ÇÊ¿¬ÀûÀ̸ç ÀÚº»ÁÖÀǰ¡ ¸ðµç °³ÀÎ »ç¾÷µéÀ» »ïÄѹö¸²¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ·± Á¾·ùÀÇ À̷еéÀÌ ¾Æ¹«¸® ±Ù°Å ¾ø´Ù°í ÇÒÁö¶óµµ, ±×°ÍµéÀÌ Àηù°¡ ¾Ë°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ÀνÄÇϰí ÀÖ´Â ¸ðµç °Í¿¡ ¾Æ¹«¸® ¸ð¼øÀûÀ̶ó ÇÒÁö¶óµµ, ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ¾Æ¹«¸® ºñµµ´öÀûÀ̶ó ÇÒÁö¶óµµ, ±×°ÍµéÀº ½Å¾Óó·³ ¼ö¿ëµÇ¸ç, ºñÆÇµµ ¾øÀ¸¸ç, Á¤¿­ÀûÀÎ ¿­±¤À¸·Î ¼³±³µÇ¸ç, ¶§·Î´Â ¼ö¼¼±â µ¿¾È, ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ÇÕ¸®È­ÇÏ´Â Á¶°ÇµéÀÌ ÇÊ¿ä ¾ø¾îÁö°Å³ª ȤÀº À̷еéÀÇ ºÎÁ¶¸®°¡ ³Ê¹«³ª ¸í¹éÇØÁú ¶§±îÁö ±×·¯ÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î ±×¿Í °°Àº °ÍÀº ¹Ù¿ò°¡¸£ÅÙÀÇ »ïÀ§ÀÏü — ¼±, Áø¸® ±×¸®°í ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò — ¶ó´Â ³î¶ó¿î ÀÌ·ÐÀ̸ç, À̰Ϳ¡ ÀÇÇϸé, 1800³â µ¿¾È ±×¸®½ºµµÀû »îÀ» »ì¾Æ¿Â »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀÌ·èµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °¡Àå ÈǸ¢ÇÑ °ÍÀº, ¹ú°Å¹þÀº Àΰ£ÀÇ ¸öµéÀ» ¸Å¿ì ÈǸ¢ÇÏ°Ô ±×·ÈÀ¸¸ç º¸±â¿¡ Áñ°Å¿î °Ç¹°µéÀ» ¼¼¿ü´ø 2000³â Àü ¼Ò¼öÀÇ ¹Ý ¾ß¸¸ÀûÀÎ, ³ë¿¹¸¦ ¼ÒÀ¯ÇÑ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÁöÁöµÇ¾ú´ø °Í°ú µ¿ÀÏÇÑ °ÍÀ», ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÀÌ»óÀ¸·Î äÅÃÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ̶ó ÇÑ´Ù. ¾Æ¹«µµ ÀÌ·± ºÒÀÏÄ¡µéÀ» ´«Ä¡Ã¤Áö ¸øÇÑ´Ù. Áö½ÄÀεéÀº ¹ÌÇÐ »ïÀ§ÀÏüÀÇ ÇÑ ±¸¼º¿øÀ¸·Î¼­ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ °üÇØ Àå¹®ÀÇ °øÇãÇÑ ³í¹®µéÀ» ¾´´Ù: Áø, ¼±, ¹Ì. ´ë¹®ÀÚ·Î Das Schöne, das Wahre, das Gute — le Beau, le Vrai, le Bon — ¶ó°í ¾²¸ç, öÇÐÀÚµé, ¹ÌÇÐÀÚµé, ¿¹¼ú°¡µé, °³Àεé, ¼Ò¼³°¡µé, ÆÊÇ÷¿ Á¦ÀÛÀڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ µÇÇ®ÀÌ µÈ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ´©±¸³ª ÀÌµé ¼º½º·¯¿î ´Ü¾îµéÀ» ¹ßÀ½Çϸ鼭 ±×µéÀº ¸Å¿ì ¸íÈ®Çϸç È®°íÇÑ ¾î¶² °Í — ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ÆÇ´ÜÀÇ Åä´ë·Î µÑ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ¾î¶² °Í — À» ¸»Çϰí ÀÖ´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÏ´Â °Íó·³ º¸ÀδÙ. »ç½Ç»ó, ÀÌ·± ´Ü¾îµéÀº ¸íÈ®ÇÑ Àǹ̸¦ Áö´Ï°í ÀÖÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×°ÍµéÀº ¿ì¸®·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý ±âÁ¸ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¾î¶² ¸íÈ®ÇÑ Àǹ̸¦ ºÎ¿©ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ¹æÇØÇϸç, ¸ðµç Á¾·ùÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼ú¿¡, ÀÌµé ´À³¦µéÀÌ ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô Äè¶ôÀ» ÁÖ´Â ÇÑ, ¿ì¸®°¡ ±ÔÁ¤ÇÏ´Â À§¼±Àû Àǹ̸¦ Á¤´çÈ­Çϱâ À§ÇØ ¿À·ÎÁö ÇÊ¿äÇÒ »ÓÀÌ´Ù.

The moment we renounce for a time the habit of regarding this trinity as having the truth of the religious Trinity, and ask ourselves what we always understand as the meaning of the three words of this trinity, we will be convinced beyond doubt of how utterly fantastic is the uniting of these three utterly different and, above all, incommensurate words and concepts.

¿ì¸®°¡ Àá½Ã¶óµµ ÀÌ·± »ïÀ§ÀÏü°¡ Á¾±³Àû »ïÀ§ÀÏüÀÇ Áø¸®¸¦ Áö´Ñ´Ù°í ¿©±â´Â ½À°üÀ» Æ÷±âÇϰí, ÀÌ·± »ïÀ§ÀÏü¶ó´Â ¼¼ ´Ü¾îµéÀÇ Àǹ̷Π¿ì¸®°¡ ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¾î¶»°Ô ÀÌÇØÇϰí ÀÖ´ÂÁö ÀÚ¹®ÇØ º»´Ù¸é, ÀǽÉÀÇ ¿©Áö ¾øÀÌ ÀÌµé ¼¼°¡Áö ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ »óÀÌÇÑ ±×¸®°í ,¹«¾ùº¸´Ù, ¾î¿ï¸®Áö ¾Ê´Â ´Ü¾îµé°ú °³³äµéÀ» °áÇÕÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾ó¸¶³ª öÀúÇÏ°Ô ±«»óÇÑ ÀÏÀÎÁö ±ú´ÞÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

The good, the beautiful and the true are put on the same level, and all three concepts are recognized as fundamental and metaphysical. Yet the reality is nothing of the sort.

¼±, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò ¹× Áø¸®´Â µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¼±»ó¿¡ ³õÀδÙ, ±×¸®°í ¼¼°¡Áö ¸ðµç °³³äµéÀº ±Ùº»ÀûÀ̸ç ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀûÀ¸·Î ÀνĵȴÙ. ÇÏÁö¸¸ Çö½ÇÀº °áÄÚ ±×·¸Áö ¾Ê´Ù.

The good is the eternal, the highest aim of our life. No matter how we understand the good, our life is nothing else than a striving towards the good — that is, towards God.

¼±Àº ¿µ¿øÇÔÀ̸ç, ¿ì¸® »îÀÇ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀÌ´Ù. ¿ì¸®°¡ ¼±À» ¾î¶»°Ô ÀÌÇØÇϵçÁö, ¿ì¸®ÀÇ »îÀº ¼±À» ÇâÇÑ — Áï, ½ÅÀ» ÇâÇÑ ³ë·Â¿¡ Áö³ªÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù.

The good is indeed a fundamental concept, which metaphysically constitutes the essence of our consciousness, a concept undefinable by reason.

¼±Àº »ç½Ç ±Ùº»Àû °³³äÀ¸·Î, ÇüÀÌ»óÇÐÀûÀ¸·Î ¿ì¸® ÀǽÄÀÇ º»ÁúÀ», À̼ºÀ¸·Î Á¤ÀÇÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â °³³äÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÑ´Ù.

The good is that which no one can define, but which defines everything else.

¼±Àº ¾Æ¹«µµ Á¤ÀÇÇÒ ¼ö ¾øÁö¸¸, ´Ù¸¥ ¹«¾ùÀ̵ç Á¤ÀÇÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

But the beautiful, if we are not to content ourselves with words, but speak of what we understand — the beautiful is nothing other than what is pleasing to us.

±×·¯³ª ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº, ¿ì¸®°¡ ´Ü¾î¿¡ ¸¸Á·ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ¿ì¸®°¡ ÀÌÇØÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ¸»ÇÑ´Ù¸é — ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô Áñ°Å¿î °Í¿¡ Áö³ªÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù.

The concept of beauty not only does not coincide with the good, but is rather the opposite of it, because the good for the most part coincides with a triumph over our predilections, while beauty is the basis of all our predilections.

¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ °³³äÀº ¼±°ú ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¿ÀÈ÷·Á ±×°ÍÀÇ ¹Ý´ëÀÌ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ¼±Àº ´ëüÀûÀ¸·Î ¿ì¸®ÀÇ Æí¾Öµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ½Â¸®¿Í ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏ´Â ¹Ý¸é, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¸ðµç Æí¾ÖÀÇ Åä´ëÀ̱⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

The more we give ourselves to beauty, the more removed we are from the good. I know that the usual response to this is that there exists a moral and spiritual beauty, but that is only a play on words, because by spiritual or moral beauty we mean nothing other than the good. Spiritual beauty, or the good, for the most part not only does not coincide with what is usually meant by beauty, but is the opposite of it.

¿ì¸®°¡ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò¿¡ ºüÁ®µé¸é µé¼ö·Ï, ¿ì¸®´Â ¼±¿¡¼­ ´õ ¸Ö¾îÁø´Ù. ³ª´Â À̰Ϳ¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀϹÝÀû ¹ÝÀÀÀº µµ´öÀû ¹× Á¤½ÅÀû ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù´Â °Í, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±×°ÍÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ ¸»Àå³­ÀÏ »ÓÀ̶ó´Â °ÍÀ» ¾È´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé Á¤½ÅÀû ȤÀº µµ´öÀû ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿ÀÁ÷ ¼±À» ÀǹÌÇÔ¿¡ Áö³ªÁö ¾Ê±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. Á¤½ÅÀûÀÎ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò, Ȥ ¼±Àº, ´ëüÀûÀ¸·Î ÈçÈ÷ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ÀǹÌÇÏ´Â °Í°ú ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×°ÍÀÇ ¹Ý´ëÀÌ´Ù.

As for truth, it is still less possible to assign to this member of the supposed trinity not only a oneness with the good or the beautiful, but even any independent existence at all.

Áø¸®¸¦ ¸»ÇÏÀÚ¸é, ÀÌ ÃßÁ¤Àû »ïÀ§ÀÏüÀÇ ±¸¼º¿ø¿¡ ¼± ¶Ç´Â ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°úÀÇ ÀÏü°¨ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¾î¶² µ¶¸³ÀûÀÎ ½Çü¸¦ ºÎ¿©Çϱâ¶óµµ ÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀº ÈξÀ ´õ °¡´É¼ºÀÌ ¾ø´Ù.

We call truth only the correspondence between the manifestation or definition of an object and its essence, or the understanding of the object common to all people. And what is common to the concepts of beauty and truth on the one hand, and the good on the other?

¿ì¸®´Â Áø¸®¸¦ ¾î¶² ´ë»ó ¹× ±× º»ÁúÀÇ Ç¥Çö ȤÀº Á¤ÀÇÀÇ ÀÏÄ¡, ȤÀº ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡ °øÅëÀûÀÎ ´ë»ó¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌÇØ¶ó°í ÀÏÄ´´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î ¹«¾ùÀÌ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú Áø¸®ÀÇ °³³äµé¿¡, ´Ù¸¥ ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î ¼±¿¡ °øÅëÀûÀΰ¡?

The concepts of beauty and truth not only are not equal with the good, not only are not of one essence with the good, but do not even coincide with it.

¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò ¹× Áø¸®ÀÇ °³³äµéÀº ¼±°ú µ¿µîÇÑ °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ò »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¼±°ú ÇϳªÀÇ º»ÁúÀ» °¡ÁöÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ½ÉÁö¾î ±×°Í°ú ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏÁöµµ ¾Ê´Â´Ù.

Truth is the correspondence between the manifestation and the essence of the object, and is therefore one means of attaining to the good, but in itself truth is neither the good nor the beautiful, and does not even coincide with them.

Áø¸®´Â ´ë»óÀÇ Ç¥Çö°ú º»Áú »çÀÌÀÇ ÀÏÄ¡À̸ç, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¼±¿¡ À̸£´Â ÇѰ¡Áö ¼ö´ÜÀÌ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ Áø¸®´Â ±× ÀÚü·Î¼­ ¼±ÇÔµµ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òµµ ¾Æ´Ï¸ç, ½ÉÁö¾î ±×°Íµé°ú ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏÁöµµ ¾Ê´Â´Ù.

Thus, for instance, Socrates and Pascal, and many others as well, regarded a knowledge of the truth of useless objects as discordant with the good. As for beauty, truth has nothing in common with it, and is for the most part opposed to it, because, while exposing deception, truth destroys illusion, the main condition of beauty.

±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é,¼ÒÅ©¶óÅ×½º ¹× ÆÄ½ºÄ® »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ´Ù¸¥ ¸¹Àº »ç¶÷µéÀº ¹«ÀÍÇÑ ´ë»óµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Áø¸®ÀÇ Áö½ÄÀº ¼±¿¡ ¾î¿ï¸®Áö ¾Ê´Â´Ù°í ¿©°å´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ¸»ÇÏÀÚ¸é, Áø¸®´Â ±×°Í°ú ¾Æ¹«·± °øÅëÁ¡ÀÌ ¾øÀ¸¸ç, ´ëüÀûÀ¸·Î ±×°Í¿¡ ´ëÄ¡µÈ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé, ±â¸¸À» ³ëÃâ½ÃŰ¸é¼­, Áø¸®´Â ȯ»ó, Áï, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ÇÙ½É Á¶°ÇÀ» ÆÄ±«ÇÑ´Ù.

And so the arbitrary uniting of these three incommensurable and mutually alien concepts served as the basis for the astonishing theory according to which the difference between good art, conveying good feelings, and bad art, conveying wicked feelings, was totally obliterated; and one of the lowest manifestations of art, art for mere pleasure — against which all teachers of mankind have warned people — came to be regarded as the highest art. And art became, not the important thing it was intended to be, but the empty amusement of idle people.

ÀÌµé ¼¼°¡Áö ºñ±³µÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ±×¸®°í »óÈ£ ÀÌÁúÀû °³³äµéÀÇ µ¶´ÜÀû °áÇÕÀº, ¼±ÇÑ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¼±ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú, ±×¸®°í »ç¾ÇÇÑ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ¾ÇÇÑ ¿¹¼ú »çÀÌÀÇ Â÷À̸¦ ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ¾ø¾Ö ¹ö¸®´Â, ³î¶ó¿î ÀÌ·ÐÀÇ Åä´ë·Î ÀÛ¿ëÇß´Ù; ±×¸®°í ¿¹¼úÀÇ °¡Àå Àú¼ÓÇÑ Ç¥Çöµé ÁßÀÇ Çϳª, ´Ü¼øÇÑ Äè¶ôÀ» À§ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú — ÀÌ¿¡ ´ëÇ×ÇÏ¿© ÀηùÀÇ ¸ðµç ±³»çµéÀÌ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô °æ°í ÇÏ¿´´Ù — Àº ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©°ÜÁö°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¿¹¼úÀº, ±×°ÍÀÌ ÀǵµµÇ¾ú´ø °¡Àå Áß¿äÇÑ °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, °ÔÀ¸¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ °øÇãÇÑ ¿À¶ôÀÌ µÇ¾ú´Ù.

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VIII

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But if art is a human activity the aim of which is to convey to others the loftiest and best feelings people have attained to in life, how could it happen that mankind should live a certain, rather long, period of its life — from the time when people ceased to believe in the Church teaching down to the present day — without this important activity, and be satisfied instead with the worthless activity of art that merely affords pleasure?

±×·¯³ª ¸¸ÀÏ ¿¹¼úÀÌ Àΰ£ÀÇ È°µ¿À¸·Î ±× ¸ñÀûÀº »î¿¡ À־ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¼ºÃëÇÏ´Â °¡Àå ¼þ°íÇÑ ±×¸®°í °¡Àå ¼±ÇÑ ´À³¦µéÀ» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ̶ó¸é, Àηù°¡ ¾î´À Á¤µµ, »ó´çÈ÷ ±ä »îÀÇ ±â°£ — »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±³È¸ÀÇ °¡¸£Ä§À» ¹Ï´Â °ÍÀ» Áß´ÜÇÑ ¶§·ÎºÎÅÍ ¿À´Ã³¯±îÁö — À» ÀÌ·± Áß¿äÇÑ È°µ¿ ¾øÀÌ »ì¸ç, ´ë½Å¿¡ ´Ü¼øÈ÷ Äè¶ôÀ» Á¦°øÇÏ´Â °¡Ä¡ ¾ø´Â ¿¹¼ú Ȱµ¿¿¡ ¸¸Á·ÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾îÂî ÀϾ ¼ö Àִ°¡?

In order to answer this question, it is necessary first of all to correct the error people commonly make in ascribing to our art the significance of true, universally human art. We are so used to regarding naively as the best human race not just the Caucasian race, but also the Anglo-Saxon if we are English or American, the German if we are German, the Gallo-Latin if we are French, and the Slavic if we are Russian, that when we speak of our art, we are as fully convinced that it is not only true art, but is also the best and the only art. Yet not only is our art not the only art, as the Bible used to be regarded as the only book, but it is not even the art of all Christian mankind, but just the art of a very small section of that part of mankind. It was possible to speak of Hebrew, Greek or Egyptian national art, as it is now possible to speak of a Chinese, Japanese or Indian art common to the whole nation. Such art, common to the whole nation, existed in Russia before Peter the Great, and also in European societies until the thirteenth or four¡©teenth century; but since people of the upper classes of European society, having lost faith in the Church teaching, did not embrace true Christianity and were left with no faith at all, it is no longer possible to speak of the art of the upper classes of Christian nations as if it were the whole of art. Since the upper classes of the Christian nations lost their faith in Church Christianity, their art has become separated from the art of the whole people, and there have been two arts: the art of the people, and the art of the masters. And therefore the answer to the question of how it could happen that mankind should live for a certain period of time without real art, having replaced it with art that serves pleasure alone, is that it was not the whole of mankind that lived without true art, and not even a considerable part of it, but only the upper classes of European Christian society, and that only for a short period of time — from the beginning of the Renaissance and Reformation to our own day.

ÀÌ Áú¹®¿¡ ´äÇϱâ À§ÇØ, ¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇØ ÂüµÇ°í º¸ÆíÀûÀ¸·Î Àΰ£ÀûÀÎ ¿¹¼úÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ °®´Ù ºÙÀÓ¿¡ ÀÖ¾î »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ÈçÈ÷ ÀúÁö¸£´Â ¿À·ù¸¦ ½ÃÁ¤ÇÔÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÏ´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â ¼øÁøÇϰԵµ  ÄÚÄ«¼­½ºÀÎ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¿ì¸®°¡ ¸¸ÀÏ ¿µ±¹ ȤÀº ¹Ì±¹ÀÎÀ̶ó¸é ¾Þ±Û·Î »ö½¼Á·, ¿ì¸®°¡ µ¶ÀÏÀÎÀ̶ó¸é °Ô¸£¸¸Á·À», ÇÁ¶û½ºÀÎÀ̶ó¸é °ñ-¶óƾÁ·, ·¯½Ã¾ÆÀÎÀ̶ó¸é ½½¶óºêÁ·À» °¡Àå ¼±ÇÑ Àηù·Î ¿©±è¿¡ ³Ê¹«³ª Àͼ÷ÇØ¼­, ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀ» ³íÇÒ ¶§, ¿ì¸®´Â ±×°ÍÀÌ ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼úÀÏ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, °¡Àå ¼±ÇÑ À¯ÀÏÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó°í ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ È®½ÅÇÑ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº, ¸¶Ä¡ ¼º°æÀÌ ÈçÈ÷ À¯ÀÏÇÑ Ã¥À¸·Î ¿©°ÜÁö´Â °Íó·³, À¯ÀÏÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¾Æ´Ò »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ½ÉÁö¾î ¸ðµç ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ ÀηùÀÇ ¿¹¼úµµ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù, ±×·¯³ª ÀηùÀÇ ÀϺÎÀÇ ¾ÆÁÖ Á¶±×¸¸ Áö¿ªÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù. Àüü ±¹°¡¿¡ °øÅëÀÎ Áß±¹, ÀϺ» ȤÀº Àεµ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇØ Áö±Ý À̾߱âÇÔÀÌ °¡´ÉÇϵíÀÌ, È÷ºê¸®, ±×¸®½º ȤÀº ÀÌÁýÆ® ±¹¹Î ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇØ À̾߱âÇÔÀº °¡´ÉÇß´Ù. ±×·¯ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀº, Àüü ±¹¹Î¿¡ °øÅëÀ¸·Î, ÇÇÅÍ ´ëÁ¦ ÀÌÀüÀÇ ·¯½Ã¾Æ¿¡, ±×¸®°í ¶ÇÇÑ 13 ȤÀº 14¼¼±â±îÁö À¯·´ »çȸµé¿¡ Á¸ÀçÇß´Ù; ±×·¯³ª À¯·´ »çȸÀÇ »ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ, ±³È¸ °¡¸£Ä§¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ½Å¾ÓÀ» »ó½ÇÇÏ°í ³ª¼­, ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³¸¦ ¼ö¿ëÇÏÁö ¾Ê°í ¾Æ¹«·± ½Å¾ÓÀ» Áö´ÏÁö ¾Ê°Ô µÈ ÈķκÎÅÍ, ¸¶Ä¡ ±× ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¿¹¼ú ÀüüÀÎ °Íó·³ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ ±¹¹ÎµéÀÇ »ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇØ À̾߱â ÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀº ´õ ÀÌ»ó °¡´ÉÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Ù. ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ ±¹¹ÎµéÀÇ »ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÌ ±³È¸ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ½Å¾ÓÀ» »ó½ÇÇÑ ÈÄ·Î, ±×µéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº Àüü ¹ÎÁßÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ºÐ¸®µÇ¾úÀ¸¸ç, µÎ °¡Áö ¿¹¼úµéÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇØ ¿Ô´Ù: ¹ÎÁßÀÇ ¿¹¼ú, ±×¸®°í Áö¹èÀÚµéÀÇ ¿¹¼ú. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î Àηù°¡ ¾î¶² ±â°£ µ¿¾È ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼ú ¾øÀÌ, ±×°ÍÀ» ¿ÀÁ÷ Äè¶ô¿¡ µµ¿òÀÌ µÇ´Â ¿¹¼ú·Î ´ëüÇÏ°í¼­, »ê´Ù´Â ÀÏÀÌ ¾îÂî ÀÏ¾î ³¯ ¼ö Àִ°¡ ÇÏ´Â Áú¹®¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ´ë´äÀº, ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼ú ¾øÀÌ »ê °ÍÀº Àηù Àüü°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¾úÀ¸¸ç, ½ÉÁö¾î ±× »ó´çÇÑ ÀϺεµ ¾Æ´Ï¾ú´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¿ÀÁ÷ À¯·´ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ »çȸÀÇ »ó·ù °è±Þµé¸¸ÀÌ, ±×¸®°í ±×°Íµµ ¿ÀÁ÷ ªÀº ±â°£ µ¿¾È¸¸ — ¸£³×»ó½º¿Í Á¾±³°³Çõ ½ÃÀÛºÎÅÍ ¿ì¸® ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ½Ã´ë±îÁö — ±×·¸°Ô »ê °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

And the consequence of this absence of true art has proved to be the very one it had to be: the depravity of the class that avails itself of this art. All the confused, incomprehensible theories of art, all the false and contradictory judgments of it, and, above all, the self-confident stagnation of our art on its own erroneous path — all this is the result of the assertion, now commonly in use and taken as an indisputable truth, but striking in its obvious falseness, that the art of our upper classes is the whole of art, the only true, universal art. In spite of the fact that this assertion, perfectly identical with the assertions of religious people of various confessions who consider theirs the only true religion, is perfectly arbitrary and clearly incorrect, it is calmly repeated by all people of our circle with complete confidence in its infallibility.

±×¸®°í ÀÌ °°Àº ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼úÀÇ °á¿©ÀÇ °á°ú´Â ±×·¸°Ô µÉ ¼ö ¹Û¿¡ ¾ø´Â ¹Ù·Î ±×°ÍÀ¸·Î ³ªÅ¸³µ´Ù: ÀÌ·± ¿¹¼úÀ» ÀÌ¿ëÇÏ´Â °è±ÞÀÇ Å¸¶ô. ¸ðµç È¥¶õ½º·´°í, ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ¿¹¼ú À̷еé, ±×°Í¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¸ðµç À§¼±ÀûÀÌ¸ç ¸ð¼øÀûÀÎ ÆÇ´Üµé, ¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ, ±× ÀÚüÀÇ À߸øµÈ ±æ¿¡¼­ ¿ì¸® ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÀÚ¸íÇÑ Á¤Ã¼ — ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ÍÀº ´ÙÀ½°ú °°Àº ÁÖÀå, Áï, Áö±Ý ÀϹÝÀûÀ¸·Î »ç¿ëµÇ°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ³í¶õÀÇ ¿©Áö ¾ø´Â Áø¸®·Î ¿©°ÜÁö¸é¼­µµ, ±× ¸í¹éÇÑ À§¼±ÀÌ µÎµå·¯Áö´Â, ¿ì¸® »ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÀüºÎÀ̸ç À¯ÀÏÇÏ°Ô ÂüµÈ º¸ÆíÀûÀÎ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó´Â, ÁÖÀåÀÇ °á°ú¿´´Ù. ÀÌ ÁÖÀåÀÌ, ±×µéÀÇ °ÍÀÌ À¯ÀÏÇÑ ÂüµÈ Á¾±³¶ó°í ¿©±â´Â ´Ù¾çÇÑ ´ÜüÀÇ Á¾±³Àû »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ÁÖÀåµé°ú ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ °ÍÀ¸·Î, ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ µ¶´ÜÀûÀÌ¸ç ¸í¹éÈ÷ ºÎÁ¤È®ÇÏ´Ù´Â »ç½Ç¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí, ±×°ÍÀº ¿ì¸® ¹üÁÖÀÇ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ±×°ÍÀÇ ¹«¿À·ù¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿ÏÀüÇÑ È®½ÅÀ¸·Î Á¶¿ëÈ÷ ¹Ýº¹µÇ°í ÀÖ´Ù.

The art we possess is the whole of art, the true, the only art, and yet not only do two-thirds of the human race, all the peoples of Asia and Africa, live and die without knowing this only true art, but, furthermore, barely one per cent of all the people in our Christian society benefit from this art which we call the whole of art; the remaining ninety-nine per cent of our European people live and die by generations, working hard, without ever tasting this art, which besides is of such a kind that, even if they could avail themselves of it, they would not understand anything. We, according to the aesthetic theory we confess, recognize that art is either one of the highest manifestations of the idea, of God, of beauty, or else is the highest spiritual pleasure; besides that, we recognize that all people have equal rights, if not to material, at least to spiritual, blessings; and meanwhile ninety-nine per cent of our European people, generation after generation, live and die working hard at tasks necessary for the production of our art, from which they do not benefit, and even so we calmly assert that the art we produce is the real, the true, the only, the whole of art.

¿ì¸®°¡ ¼ÒÀ¯ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÀüºÎÀ̰í, ÂüµÇ¸ç, À¯ÀÏÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÌ´Ù, ±×·¯³ª ÀηùÀÇ »ïºÐÀÇ ÀÌ´Â, ¾Æ½Ã¾Æ ¹× ¾ÆÇÁ¸®Ä«ÀÇ ¸ðµç ¹ÎÁßµéÀº, ÀÌ·± À¯ÀÏÇÏ°Ô ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼úÀ» ¸ð¸¥ ä »ì°í Á״´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸, °Ô´Ù°¡, ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ±×¸®½ºµµ±³ »çȸ¿¡ ÀÖ´Â ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ÀÏ ÆÛ¼¾Æ® ¸¸ÀÌ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÀüºÎ¶ó°í ºÎ¸£´Â ÀÌ·± ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ÀÌÀÍÀ» ¾ò´Â´Ù; ¿ì¸® À¯·´ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ³ª¸ÓÁö ±¸½Ê±¸ ÆÛ¼¾Æ®´Â, ¿­½ÉÈ÷ ÀÏÇϸç, ÀÌ·± ¿¹¼úÀ» ¸Àº¸Áöµµ ¸øÇÑ Ã¤, ´ë¸¦ ÀÌ¾î »ì°í Á×À¸¸ç, ±×°ÍÀº °Ô´Ù°¡, ºñ·Ï ±×µéÀÌ ±×°ÍÀ» Á¢ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´õ¶óµµ, ±×µéÀº ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ±×·± °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â, ¿ì¸®°¡ °í¹éÇÏ´Â ¹ÌÇÐ À̷п¡ ÀÇÇϸé, ¿¹¼úÀº À̳ä, ½Å, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀÇ ÃÖ°íÀÇ Ç¥Çöµé ÁßÀÇ ÇϳªÀ̰ųª, ÃÖ°íÀÇ Á¤½ÅÀû Äè¶ôÀ̶ó°í ÀνÄÇÑ´Ù; ±×°Í»Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀº, ¹°Áú¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼± ¾Æ´Ï´õ¶óµµ Àû¾îµµ Á¤½ÅÀûÀÎ Çູµé¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼± ÆòµîÇÑ ±Ç¸®µéÀ» °¡Áø´Ù°í ÀνÄÇÑ´Ù; ±×¸®°í ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î´Â, ¿ì¸® À¯·´ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ±¸½Ê±¸ ÆÛ¼¾Æ®°¡, ¼¼´ë¸¶´Ù, ¿ì¸® ¿¹¼úÀÇ »ý»êÀ» À§ÇØ ÇÊ¿äÇÑ °ú¾÷µéÀ» À§ÇØ ¿­½ÉÈ÷ ÀÏÇϸ鼭 »ì°í Á×À¸¸ç, ±×°ÍÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ÇýÅÃÀ» ¹ÞÁöµµ ¸øÇϰí, ±×·³¿¡µµ ¿ì¸®´Â Á¶¿ëÈ÷ ÁÖÀåÇϱ⸦ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¸¸µå´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ »ç½ÇÀ̸ç, Áø¸®À̸ç, À¯ÀÏÇϸç ÀüüÀÎ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó°í ÇÑ´Ù.

To the observation that if our art is the true art, all people ought to benefit from it, the usual objection is that if not all benefit from existing art, it is not the art that is to blame, but the wrong organization of society; that it is possible to imagine that in the future physical labor will partly be replaced by machines, will partly be lightened by its proper distribution, that the work of producing art will be done in turns; that there is no need for the same people constantly to sit under the stage, moving the scenery, lifting machinery, and playing on the piano or the French horn, or setting type and printing books, and that those who do all that can work a small number of hours a day and in their free time benefit from all the blessings of art.

¸¸ÀÏ ¿ì¸® ¿¹¼úÀÌ ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó¸é, ¹Ýµå½Ã ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×°ÍÀ¸·Î ÀÌÀÍÀ» ¾ò¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù´Â °ßÇØ¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼­, ÀϹÝÀûÀÎ ¹Ý·ÐÀº, ¸¸ÀÏ ±âÁ¸ÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ¸ðµÎ°¡ ÀÌÀÍÀ» ¾ò´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó¸é, ºñ³­ ¹Þ¾Æ¾ß ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó À߸øµÈ »çȸ±¸Á¶¶ó´Â °ÍÀ̸ç; ¹Ì·¡¿¡´Â À°Ã¼ ³ëµ¿ÀÌ ±â°èµé·Î ÀϺΠ±³Ã¼µÇ°í, ÀϺδ ÀûÀýÇÑ ºÐ¹è·Î °¡º­¿ö Áú °ÍÀ̶ó´Â °Í, ¿¹¼úÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»´Â ÀÛ¾÷Àº ±³´ë·Î ÀÌ·ç¾î Áú °ÍÀ̶ó´Â °Í; ¶È°°Àº »ç¶÷ÀÌ °è¼ÓÇØ¼­ ¹«´ë ¾Æ·¡¿¡ ¾É¾Æ¼­, ¹è°æÀ» ¿òÁ÷À̰í, ÀåÄ¡¸¦ µé¾î ¿Ã¸®°í, ÇǾƳ븦 Ä¡°Å³ª ȤÀº ÇÁ¶û½º È¥À» ¿¬ÁÖÇϰųª, ȤÀº ŸÀÚ¸¦ Ä¡°í Ã¥À» ÀμâÇÒ Çʿ䰡 ¾ø´Ù´Â °Í, ±×¸®°í ±× ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ÇàÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀº ÇÏ·ç¿¡ ¿ÀÁ÷ ÇÏ·ç¿¡ ¸î ½Ã°£¸¸ ÀÏÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ±×µéÀÇ ¿©À¯ ½Ã°£¿¡ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ðµç Ãູµé·ÎºÎÅÍ ÀÌÀÍÀ» ¾òÀ» ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

So say the defenders of our exclusive art, but I think that they themselves do not believe what they say, because they cannot be unaware that our refined art could emerge only on the slavery of the popular masses and can continue only as long as this slavery exists, and that the specialists — writers, musicians, dancers and actors — can reach that refined degree of perfection only on condition of the hard work of laborers, and that only on these conditions can there exist the refined public to appreciate such works. Free the slaves of capital and it will be impossible to produce such refined art.

ÀÌ·¸°Ô ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¹èŸÀû ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¿ËÈ£ÀÚµéÀº ¸»ÇÑ´Ù, ±×·¯³ª ³ª´Â ±×µé Àڽŵµ ±×µéÀÌ ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ¹ÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×µéÀº ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¼¼·ÃµÈ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¿ÀÁ÷ ÀÏ¹Ý ¹ÎÁßÀÇ °í¿ª À§¿¡ ³ªÅ¸³¯ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ¿ÀÁ÷ ÀÌ·± °í¿ªÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â ÇÑ¿¡¼­ °è¼ÓµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ», ±×¸®°í Àü¹®°¡µé — ÀÛ°¡µé, À½¾Ç°¡µé, ¹«¿ë¼öµé ¹× ¿¬±âÀÚµé — Àº ³ëµ¿ÀÚµéÀÇ °íµÈ ³ëµ¿À̶ó´Â Á¶°Ç À§¿¡¼­ ±× °°Àº ¼¼·ÃµÈ ¿Ï¼ºµµ¿¡ µµ´ÞÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ», ±×¸®°í ¿ÀÁ÷ ÀÌ·± Á¶°Çµé À§¿¡¼­ ±×·¯ÇÑ ÀÛǰµéÀ» °¨»óÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ¼¼·ÃµÈ ´ëÁßÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ±ú´ÞÀ» ¼ö ¾ø±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

But even if we admit the inadmissible — that is, that methods can be found to make it possible for all people to benefit from art (or what is regarded as art among us) — another consideration presents itself, showing why present-day art cannot be the whole of art, namely, that it is totally incomprehensible for the people. Poetic works were once written in Latin, but nowadays works of art are as incomprehensible for the people as if they were written in Sanskrit. To this the usual reply is that if the people do not understand our art now, it only proves that they are undeveloped, exactly as it has been with every new step in art. First it was not understood, but later they got used to it.

±×·¯³ª ¿ì¸®°¡ ºñ·Ï ÀÎÁ¤ÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â °Í — Áï, ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¿¹¼ú (ȤÀº ¿ì¸® »çÀÌ¿¡¼­ ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©°ÜÁö´Â °Í) ¿¡¼­ ÀÌÀÍÀ» ¾ò´Â °ÍÀÌ °¡´ÉÇϵµ·Ï ¸¸µå´Â ¹æ¹ýµéÀÌ ¹ß°ßµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â °Í —  À» ÀÎÁ¤ÇÑ´Ù ÇÏ´õ¶óµµ, ±×°ÍÀÌ ¹ÎÁߵ鿡°Ô ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ´Ù¸¥ »çÇ×ÀÌ µå·¯³ª¼­, ¿Ö ¿À´Ã³¯ÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¿¹¼ú Àüü°¡ µÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Â°¡¸¦ º¸¿©ÁØ´Ù. ½Ã ÀÛǰµéÀº °ú°Å¿¡ ¶óƾ¾î·Î ¾²¿©Á³¾ú´Ù, ±×·¯³ª ¿À´Ã³¯ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀº ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ¸¶Ä¡ »ê½ºÅ©¸®Æ®¾î·Î ¾²¿©Áø °Íó·³ ÀÌÇØÇÏ±â ¾î·Æ´Ù. ÀÌÁ¡¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼­ ÀϹÝÀûÀÎ ´äº¯Àº ¸¸ÀÏ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ Áö±Ý ¿ì¸® ¿¹¼úÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×°ÍÀº ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ Á¦°¢±â ù°ÉÀ½¿¡ Á¤È®È÷ ÀÖ¾î ¿ÔµíÀÌ, ´ÜÁö ±×µéÀÌ ¹Ì°³ÇÏ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» Áõ¸íÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

¡®The same will happen with present-day art: it will become comprehensible when all the people are as educated as we upper-class people are who produce this art,¡¯ say the defenders of our art. But this assertion is obviously still more incorrect than the first one, because we know that the majority of upper-class works of art, such as various odes, narrative poems, dramas, cantatas, pastorals, paintings and so on, which upper-class people admired in their time, have never afterwards been either understood or appreciated by the great masses, and have remained what they always were — an amusement for the wealthy people of their time, for whom alone they had any significance. From this one can conclude that the same will happen with our art. And when, to prove that the people will in time come to understand our art, it is said that some works of so-called classical poetry, music and painting, which the masses did not like at first, they began to like later, after these works were offered to them from all sides, it only proves that the mob, and a city mob, half corrupted to begin with, can always easily be made accustomed, by perverting its taste, to any art you like. And besides, this art is not produced by the mob, and is not chosen by the mob, but is forcefully thrust upon it in those public places where it has access to art. For the vast majority of working people, our art, inaccessible to them because of its costliness, is also alien to them in its very content, conveying the feelings of people far removed from the conditions of the laboring life led by the greater part of mankind. That which constitutes pleasure for a man of the wealthy classes is not perceived as pleasure by a working man, and calls up in him either no feelings at all, or else feelings completely contrary to those it calls up in an idle and satiated man. Thus, for example, the feelings of honor, patriotism and amorousness, which constitute the main content of present-day art, call up in a working man only perplexity, scorn or indignation. So that even if the majority of working people were given the opportunity, in their time off from labor, to see, to read, to hear — as they do somewhat in the cities, in picture galleries, popular concerts, books — all that constitutes the flower of present-day art, these working people, to the extent that they are working people and do not yet belong partly to the category of those perverted by idleness, would understand nothing of our refined art, and even if they did, the greater part of what they understood would not only not elevate their souls, but would corrupt them. So that for sincere and thinking people there can be no doubt that the art of the upper classes can never become the art of the whole people. And therefore, if art is an important thing, a spiritual blessing, as necessary for all people as religion (as admirers of art like to say), it must then be accessible to all people. And if it cannot become art for all people, then one of two things: either art is not as important as it is made out to be, or the art which we call art is not important.

'¶È°°Àº Çö»óÀÌ ¿À´Ã³¯ÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­µµ ÀϾ °ÍÀÌ´Ù: ±×°ÍÀº ¸ðµç ¹ÎÁßµéÀÌ ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀ» âÁ¶ÇÏ´Â ¿ì¸® »ó·ù °è±Þ »ç¶÷µé ¸¸Å­ ±³¾çÀÌ ÀÖÀ» ¶§ ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù,'°í ¿ì¸® ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¿ËÈ£ÀÚµéÀº ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ÀÌ ÁÖÀåÀº ¸í¹éÈ÷ ÀüÀÚÀÇ °Íº¸´Ù ÈξÀ ´õ Ʋ¸° °ÍÀÌ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ¿ì¸®´Â ´ë´Ù¼ö »ó·ù °è±ÞÀÇ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀÌ, ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é ´Ù¾çÇÑ ¼Û°¡µé, ¼³È­½Ãµé, ¿¬±Øµé, ´ë¼º¾Ç°îµé, Àü¿ø½Ãµé, ±×¸²µé µîÀ», »ó·ù °è±Þ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×µéÀÇ ½Ã´ë¿¡ ĪÂùÇÏ¿´Áö¸¸, ±× ÈÄ·Î °áÄÚ ´ëÁߵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ ÀÌÇØµÇ¾ú°Å³ª °¨»óµÇÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ¸¸ç, ¾ðÁ¦³ª ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ÀÖ´ø ´ë·Î ³²¾Æ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù — ±×µé ½Ã´ëÀÇ ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ »ç¶÷µéÀ» À§ÇÑ ¿À¶ô, ±×°ÍµéÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×µéÀ» À§ÇØ  ¾î¶² Àǹ̰¡ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. À̰ÍÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ¿ì¸®´Â ¶È°°Àº »óȲÀÌ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡µµ ¹ß»ýÇϸ®¶ó °á·ÐÁöÀ» ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¹ÎÁßÀÌ ¶§°¡ µÇ¸é ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏ°Ô µÇ¸®¶ó´Â °ÍÀ» Áõ¸íÇϱâ À§ÇØ, ÀϺΠ¼ÒÀ§ °íÀü ½Ã, À½¾Ç ¹× ±×¸² ÀÛǰµéÀº, ¹ÎÁßµéÀÌ Ã³À½¿¡ ±×°ÍµéÀ» ÁÁ¾Æ ÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÁö¸¸, ±×µéÀÌ ÈÄÀÏ ÁÁ¾ÆÇϱ⠽ÃÀÛÇß´Ù°í ¸»ÇÒ ¶§, ±×°ÍÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ ¹ÎÁßµé, ±×¸®°í µµ½ÃÀÇ ¹ÎÁßµéÀÌ, ½ÃÀÛºÎÅÍ ¹ÝÂë Ÿ¶ôÇÏ¿©¼­, ±×µéÀÇ ÃëÇâÀ» ¿Ö°î½ÃÅ´À¸·Î½á,  ¿©·¯ºÐÀÌ ÁÁ¾ÆÇÏ´Â ¾î¶² ¿¹¼ú¿¡µçÁö ¾ðÁ¦³ª ½±°Ô ÀûÀÀµÇ¾î Áú ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» Áõ¸íÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í °Ô´Ù°¡, ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀº ´ëÁߵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ ¸¸µé¾î ÁöÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ´ëÁߵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ ¼±ÅõÇÁöµµ ¾ÊÁö¸¸, ¿¹¼úÀÌ °¡´ÉÇÑ °ø°ø Àå¼Òµé¿¡¼­ °­Á¦ÀûÀ¸·Î µð¹Ð¾î Áø´Ù. ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µé Àý´ë ´Ù¼ö¿¡°Ô ¿ì¸® ¿¹¼úÀº ³Ê¹« ºñ½Î¼­ Á¢±ÙÇÒ ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç, ¶ÇÇÑ ±× ³»¿ë ÀÚüºÎÅÍ ±×µé¿¡°Ô ÀÌÁúÀûÀ̸ç, ÀηùÀÇ ´ëºÎºÐ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¿µÀ§µÇ´Â ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »îÀÇ Á¶°Çµé°ú ³Ê¹«³ª µ¿¶³¾îÁø »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ °è±ÞµéÀÇ »ç¶÷À» À§ÇÑ Äè¶ôÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô Äè¶ôÀ¸·Î ÀνĵÇÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ±× ¾È¿¡¼­ ¾Æ¹«·± ´À³¦µéÀ» ºÒ·¯ ³»Áö ¸øÇϰųª, ȤÀº ³ªÅÂÇϰųª Æ÷¸¸°¨À» ´À³¢´Â »ç¶÷ ¾È¿¡¼­ ºÒ·¯³»´Â °Íµé°ú´Â ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ¹Ý´ëµÇ´Â ´À³¦µéÀ» ºÒ·¯³½´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿©, ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ¸í¿¹, ¾Ö±¹½É ¹× ¿¬¾ÖÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀº, À̰͵éÀº ¿À´Ã³¯ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÇÙ½É ³»¿ëÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷ ¾È¿¡¼­ ¿ÀÁ÷ ´çȤ°¨, °æ¸ê ȤÀº ºÐ³ë¸¦ ÀھƳ½´Ù. ±×·¡¼­ ´ë´Ù¼ö ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀÌ, ³ëµ¿À» ¶°³ª ±×µéÀÇ ½Ã°£¿¡ — ±×µéÀÌ ¾î´À Á¤µµ µµ½Ãµé¿¡¼­, È­¶ûµé¿¡¼­, ´ëÁß ¿¬ÁÖȸµé¿¡¼­, Ã¥µé¿¡¼­ — º¸°í ÀÐ°í µéÀ» ±âȸ°¡ ÁÖ¾îÁø´Ù ÇÏ´õ¶óµµ, ¿À´Ã³¯ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ²ÉÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀº, ±×µéÀÌ ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀÌ¸ç ¾ÆÁ÷ ºÎºÐÀûÀ¸·Î ³ªÅÂÇÔÀ¸·Î ¿Ö°îµÈ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¹üÁÖ¿¡ ¼Ò¼ÓµÇÁö ¾ÊÀº ÇÑ,  ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¼¼·ÃµÈ ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÒ °ÍÀ̸ç, ½ÉÁö¾î ±×µéÀÌ ÀÌÇØÇß´Ù ÇÏ´õ¶óµµ, ±×µéÀÌ ÀÌÇØÇÑ ´õ ¸¹Àº ºÎºÐÀº ±×µéÀÇ Á¤½ÅµéÀ» °íÃë½ÃŰÁö ¸øÇÒ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×µéÀ» Ÿ¶ô½Ãų °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¡¼­ ¼º½ÇÇÏ°í »ç·Á ±íÀº »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô À־, »óÀ§ °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÌ °áÄÚ Àüü »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÌ µÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù´Â °ÍÀº ÀǽÉÀÇ ¿©Áö°¡ ÀÖÀ» ¼ö ¾ø´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ¸¸ÀÏ ¿¹¼úÀÌ Áß¿äÇÑ °ÍÀ̶ó¸é, ÀÏÁ¾ÀÇ Á¤½ÅÀû ÃູÀº, ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô (¿¹¼úÀÇ Âù¹ÌÀÚ µéÀÌ ¸»Çϱâ ÁÁ¾ÆÇϵí) Á¾±³ ¸¸Å­À̳ª  ÇÊ¿äÇÏ¿©¼­, ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀÌ¿ë °¡´ÉÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×°ÍÀÌ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀ» À§ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÌ µÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù¸é, µÑ ÁßÀÇ ÇϳªÀÌ´Ù: ¿¹¼úÀÌ ÁÖÀåµÇ´Â °Í¸¸Å­ Áß¿äÇÏÁö ¾Ê°Å³ª, ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó ºÎ¸£´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ Áß¿äÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀº °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

This dilemma is insoluble, and therefore intelligent but immoral people boldly resolve it by denying one side of it — namely, the right of the popular masses to benefit from art. These people give direct utterance to what lies at the heart of the matter, which is that only the schöne Geister, the elect, as the romantics called them, or the ¡®supermen¡¯, as they have been called by Nietzsche¡¯s followers, can partake of and benefit from the supremely beautiful (in their understanding) — that is, the loftiest pleasure of art. The rest, the crude herd, unable to experience these pleasures, must serve the lofty pleasures of this higher race of men. Those who voice such views at least do not pretend and do not want to combine the uncombinable, but admit directly what happens to be the case — namely, that our art is the art of the upper classes only. This, essentially, is how art has been and is understood by all people occupied with the arts in our society.

ÀÌ µô·¹¸¶´Â ÇØ°áµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ÁöÀûÀÌÁö¸¸ ºÎµµ´öÇÑ »ç¶÷µéÀº ´ë´ãÇÏ°Ô ±×°ÍÀÇ ÇÑÂÊ ¸é — Áï, ´ëÁßµéÀÌ ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ÀÌÀÍÀ» ¾òÀ» ±Ç¸® — À» ºÎÁ¤ÇÔÀ¸·Î½á ±×°ÍÀ» ÇØ°áÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀº ¹®Á¦ÀÇ ½ÉÃþºÎ¿¡ ³õÀÎ °ÍÀ» Á÷Á¢ ¾ð±ÞÇϸç, ±×°ÍÀº ¹Ù·Î, ¿ÀÁ÷ ¸ù»ó°¡µéÀÌ ±×µéÀ» ÀÏĵí,  schöne Geister, ¼±ÅÃµÈ ÀÚµé, ȤÀº ´ÏüÀÇ ÃßÁ¾Àڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ ±×µéÀÌ ºÒ·ÁÁ³µíÀÌ, 'ÃÊÀΰ£µé'ÀÌ (±×µéÀÇ ÀÌÇØ ¾È¿¡¼­) ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò — Áï, °¡Àå ¼þ°íÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÇ Äè¶ô — À» ÇÔ²² ³ª´©°í ´©¸± ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ³ª¸ÓÁöµé, ¼¼·ÃµÇÁö ¸øÇÑ ¹«¸®µéÀº, ÀÌ·± Äè¶ôµéÀ» °æÇèÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø°í,  ÀÌ °íµî ÀηùÀÇ ¼þ°íÇÑ Äè¶ôµéÀ» ½ÃÁßµé¾î¾ß¸¸ ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯ÇÑ °ßÇØµéÀ» ÁÖâÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀº °áÇÕÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â °ÍÀ» °áÇÕÇÏ·Á Çϴ ô Çϰųª ÀǵµÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù, ±×·¯³ª ±× °æ¿ì°¡ µÇ´Â °Í —  Áï, ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº »ó·ù °è±Þµé ¸¸ÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó´Â °Í — À» Á÷Á¢ ÀÎÁ¤ÇÑ´Ù.  À̰ÍÀÌ, ±Ùº»ÀûÀ¸·Î, ¿ì¸® »çȸ¿¡¼­ ¿¹¼úµé¿¡ Á¾»çÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ÀÌÇØµÇ¾î ¿ÔÀ¸¸ç ÀÌÇØµÇ°í ÀÖ´Â ¹æ¹ýÀÌ´Ù.
¡¡ ¡¡

IX

¡¡ ¡¡

The unbelief of the upper classes of the European world created a situation in which the activity of art, the aim of which was to convey the loftiest feelings mankind has attained to in its religious consciousness, was replaced by an activity the aim of which was to afford the greatest pleasure to a certain group of people. And from the whole vast area of art, that alone which affords pleasure to people of a certain circle has been singled out and has come to be called art.

À¯·´ ¼¼°èÀÇ »ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ ºÒ½Å¾ÓÀº ¿¹¼ú Ȱµ¿ÀÌ, ±× ¸ñÀûÀÌ ±× Á¾±³Àû ÀǽĿ¡¼­ Àηù°¡ µµ´ÞÇÑ °¡Àå ¼þ°íÇÑ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÓ¿¡µµ, ƯÁ¤ ¹«¸®ÀÇ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÃÖ°íÀÇ Äè¶ôÀ» Á¦°øÇÏ´Â ¸ñÀûÀ» Áö´Ñ Ȱµ¿À¸·Î ´ëüµÇ´Â »óȲÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»¾ú´Ù. ±×¸®°í Àüü ±¤´ëÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¿µ¿ª¿¡¼­, ¿ÀÁ÷ ƯÁ¤ ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Äè¶ôÀ» Á¦°øÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¼±º°µÇ¾î ¿¹¼ú·Î ºÒ·¯Áö°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù.

Not to mention the moral consequences for European society of this singling out from the whole area of art and bestowing importance upon an art not deserving of such evaluation, this perversion of art weakened art itself and drove it almost to ruin. The first consequence was that art lost the infinitely diverse and profound religious content proper to it. The second consequence was that, having only a small circle of people in mind, it lost beauty of form, became fanciful and unclear; and the third and chief consequence was that it ceased to be sincere and became artificial and cerebral.

À¯·´ »çȸ°¡ ÀÌó·³ Àüü ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¿µ¿ª¿¡¼­ °¡·Á³»°í ±× °°Àº Æò°¡ÀÇ °¡Ä¡°¡ ¾ø´Â ¾î¶² ¿¹¼ú¿¡ Á߿伺À» ºÎ¿©ÇÔ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ µµ´öÀû °á°úµéÀº ¸»ÇÒ °Íµµ ¾ø°í, ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ·± ¿Ö°îÀº ¿¹¼ú ÀÚü¸¦ ¾àÈ­½ÃÄ×°í ±×°ÍÀ» °ÅÀÇ ÆÄ±«·Î ¸ô¾Æ°¬´Ù. ù ¹øÂ° °á°ú´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ ±×¿¡ °íÀ¯ÇÑ ¹«ÇÑÈ÷ ´Ù¾çÇÏ¸ç ½É¿ÀÇÑ Á¾±³Àû ³»¿ëÀ» ÀÒ¾ú´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. µÎ ¹øÂ° °á°ú´Â, ¿ÀÁ÷ ÀûÀº ºÎ·ùÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀ» ¿°µÎ¿¡ µÎ°í ÀÖÀ¸¹Ç·Î, ÇüÅÂÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» ÀÒ°í¼­, ºñÇö½ÇÀûÀÌ¸ç ³­ÇØÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù;±×¸®°í ¼¼ ¹øÂ°ÀÌÀÚ ÁÖµÈ °á°ú´Â ±×°ÍÀÌ ÁøÁöÇϱ⸦ ¸ØÃß¾ú°í ÀÎÀ§ÀûÀ̸ç Áö¼ºÀûÀÌ µÇ¾ú´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

The first consequence — impoverishment of content — occurred because the only true work of art is one that conveys a new feeling not experienced by people before. As a product of thinking is only a product of thinking when it conveys new observations and thoughts, and does not repeat what is already known, in exactly the same way a work of art is only a work of art when it introduces a new feeling (however insignificant) into the general usage of human life. The only reason why children and adolescents experience works of art so strongly is that they convey to them for the first time feelings that they have not experienced before.

ù ¹øÂ° °á°ú — ³»¿ëÀÇ ÀúÁúÈ­ — Àº À¯ÀÏÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀº »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀÌÀü¿¡ °æÇèµÇÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´ø »õ·Î¿î ´À³¦À» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ̱⠶§¹®¿¡ ¹ß»ýÇß´Ù. »çÀ¯ÀÇ °á°ú´Â ±×°ÍÀÌ ¿ÀÁ÷ »õ·Î¿î ¹ß°ßµé ¹× »ç»óµéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÒ ¶§ ¿À·ÎÁö »çÀ¯ÀÇ »ê¹°À̸ç, ÀÌ¹Ì ¾Ë·ÁÁø °ÍÀ» ¹Ýº¹ÇÏÁö ¾Ê±â ¶§¹®À̵íÀÌ, Á¤È®È÷ °°Àº ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀº ±×°ÍÀÌ »õ·Î¿î ´À³¦À» Àΰ£ÀÇ »î¿¡ º¸ÆíÀû ÀÌ¿ëÀ¸·Î µµÀÔÇÒ ¶§¿¡ ºñ·Î¼Ò ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀ̶ó´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¾ÆÀ̵é°ú û¼Ò³âµéÀÌ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀ» °­·ÄÇÏ°Ô °æÇèÇÏ´Â À¯ÀÏÇÑ ÀÌÀ¯´Â ±×µéÀÌ ÀÌÀü¿¡ °æÇèÇØ º¸Áö ¸øÇß´ø ´À³¦µéÀ» ±×°ÍµéÀÌ Ã³À½À¸·Î Àü´ÞÇØ Áشٴ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

A completely new feeling, never before expressed by anyone, has a similarly strong effect upon adults. The art of the upper classes, evaluating feelings not according to religious consciousness, but by the degree of pleasure they afford, deprived itself of the source of these feelings. There is nothing older or more hackneyed than pleasure; and there is nothing newer than the feelings that emerge from the religious consciousness of a particular time. And it could not be otherwise: a limit is set to man¡¯s pleasure by nature; but mankind¡¯s movement forward — which is expressed by religious consciousness — has no limits. With each step forward that mankind takes, and these steps are made through an ever-increasing clarification of religious consciousness — people experience more and more new feelings. And therefore it is only on the basis of religious consciousness, which reveals the highest degree of understanding of life attained by the people of a certain period, that there can emerge new feelings never before experienced by men. From ancient Greek religious consciousness there came truly new and infinitely diverse feelings, important for the Greeks, expressed by Homer and the tragedians. It was the same for the Jews, who attained to the religious consciousness of monotheism. This consciousness also produced all the new and important feelings expressed by the prophets.

¿ÏÀüÈ÷ »õ·Î¿ò ´À³¦Àº, ÀÌÀü¿¡ ´©±¸¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­µµ Ç¥ÇöµÇÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ¸¹Ç·Î, ¼ºÀε鿡°Ôµµ ºñ½ÁÇÏ°Ô °­·ÄÇÑ ¿µÇâÀ» ¹ÌÄ£´Ù. »ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº, ´À³¦µéÀ» Á¾±³Àû ÀǽĿ¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ±×°ÍµéÀÌ Á¦°øÇÏ´Â Äè¶ôÀÇ Á¤µµ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ Æò°¡ÇÔÀ¸·Î½á, ½º½º·Î ÀÌ·± ´À³¦µéÀÇ ¿øÃµÀ» ¸·¾Æ ¹ö·È´Ù. Äè¶ôº¸´Ù ´õ ¿À·¡µÈ °ÍÀ̳ª ´õ ÁøºÎÇÑ °ÍÀº ¾ø´Ù; ±×¸®°í ƯÁ¤ÇÑ ½Ã´ëÀÇ Á¾±³Àû ÀǽĿ¡¼­ ¼Ú¾Æ ³ª¿À´Â ´À³¦µé º¸´Ù ´õ »õ·Î¿î °ÍÀº ¾ø´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±× ¹Ý´ë´Â ÀÖÀ» ¼ö ¾ø´Ù: º»ÁúÀûÀ¸·Î Àΰ£ÀÇ Äè¶ôÀº ÇѰ谡 ÀÖ´Ù; ±×·¯³ª ÀηùÀÇ Áøº¸¸¦ ÇâÇÑ — Á¾±³Àû ÀǽĿ¡ ÀÇÇØ Ç¥ÇöµÇ´Â — ¿òÁ÷ÀÓÀº ÇѰ谡 ¾ø´Ù. Àηù°¡ ÃëÇÏ´Â Áøº¸¸¦ ÇâÇÑ Á¦°¢±â ¹ß°ÉÀ½À¸·Î, ±×¸®°í ÀÌµé °ÉÀ½µéÀº ²÷ÀÓ ¾øÀÌ Áõ°¡ÇÏ´Â Á¾±³Àû ÀǽÄÀÇ Á¤È­¸¦ ÅëÇØ ÀÌ·ç¾î Áø´Ù  — »ç¶÷µéÀº Á¡Á¡ ´õ »õ·Î¿î ´À³¦µéÀ» °æÇèÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ƯÁ¤ ½Ã±âÀÇ ¹ÎÁß¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ´Þ¼ºµÇ´Â ÃÖ°íµµÀÇ »îÀÇ ÀÌÇØ¸¦ µå·¯³»´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ Á¾±³Àû ÀǽÄÀÇ Åä´ë À§¿¡¼­¾ß ºñ·Î¼­, »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÌÇØ ÀÌÀü¿¡ °áÄÚ °æÇèµÇÁö ¸øÇÑ »õ·Î¿î ´À³¦µéÀÌ ³ªÅ¸³¯ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. °í´ë ±×¸®½ºÀÇ Á¾±³Àû ÀǽÄÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ±×¸®½ºÀε鿡°Ô Áß¿äÇϸç, È£¸Ó¿Í ºñ±Ø ÀÛ°¡µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Ç¥ÇöµÇ¾ú´ø, ÂüÀ¸·Î »õ·Ó°í ¹«ÇÑÈ÷ ´Ù¾çÇÑ ´À³¦µéÀÌ ¿Ô´Ù. ÀϽű³¶ó´Â Á¾±³Àû ÀǽĿ¡ µµ´ÞÇÏ¿´´ø À¯ÅÂÀε鿡°Ôµµ ¸¶Âù°¡Áö¿´´Ù. ±×µéÀº ÀÌ·± ÀÇ½Ä ¶ÇÇÑ ¼±ÁöÀڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ Ç¥ÇöµÈ ¸ðµç »õ·Ó°í Áß¿äÇÑ ´À³¦µéÀ̾ú´Ù.

It was the same for medieval man, who believed in the Church community and the heavenly hierarchy; and it is the same for the man of our time who has adopted the religious consciousness of true Christianity — the consciousness of the brotherhood of men.

±³È¸ °øµ¿Ã¼¿Í õ»ç °è±ÞÀ» ½ÅºÀÇÑ Áß¼¼ Àο¡°Ôµµ ¸¶Âù°¡Áö¿´´Ù; Âü ±×¸®½ºµµ±³¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Á¾±³Àû ÀÎ½Ä  — Àηù¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÇüÁ¦¾ÖÀÇ ÀÎ½Ä  — À» äÅÃÇÑ ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ëÀÇ »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ¸¶Âù°¡Áö´Ù.

The diversity of feelings produced by religious consciousness is infinite, and they are all new, because religious consciousness is nothing other than the indication of the new, creative attitude of man towards the world, while the feelings arising from the desire for pleasure are not only limited, but have long since been experienced and expressed. And therefore the unbelief of the European upper classes led them to an art most poor in content.

Á¾±³Àû ÀǽĿ¡ ÀÇÇØ ¸¸µé¾î Áö´Â ´À³¦µéÀÇ ´Ù¾ç¼ºÀº ¹«ÇÑÇÏ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ±×°ÍµéÀº ¸ðµÎ »õ·Ó´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé Á¾±³Àû ÀǽÄÀº ¹Ù·Î ¼¼»óÀ» ÇâÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÇ »õ·Ó°í âÀÇÀûÀΠŵµÀÇ Ç¥½ÃÀÌ´Ù, ¹Ý¸é, Äè¶ôÀ» À§ÇÑ ¿å¸ÁÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ÀϾ´Â ´À³¦µéÀº ÇѰ谡 ÀÖÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ¿À·¡ ÀüºÎÅÍ °æÇèµÇ°í Ç¥ÇöµÇ¾î ¿Ô´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î À¯·´ »ó·ù »çȸµéÀÇ ºÒ½Å¾ÓÀº ±×µéÀ» ³»¿ë¿¡ À־ °¡Àå ºó¾àÇÑ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ À̸£°Ô Çß´Ù.

The impoverishment of the content of upper-class art was increased by the fact that, having ceased to be religious, it also ceased to be popular, thereby diminishing still further the range of feelings it conveyed, since the range of feelings experienced by the ruling, wealthy men, who do not know the labor that maintains life, is much smaller, poorer and more insignificant than the range of feelings of working people.

»ó·ù °è±Þ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ³»¿ëÀÇ ÀúÁúÈ­´Â, Á¾±³ÀûÀ̱⸦ Áß´ÜµÇ°í ³ª¼­, ´ëÁßÀûÀ̱⸦ ¸ØÃß°í, ±×·³À¸·Î½á ±×°ÍÀÌ Àü´ÞÇÏ´ø ÈξÀ ´õ ³ÐÀº ¹üÀ§ÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» °¨¼â½ÃÄ×´Ù´Â »ç½Ç¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Áõ°¡µÇ°í ÀÖ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é »îÀ» ÁöÅÊÇØ ÁÖ´Â ³ëµ¿À» ¸ð¸£´Â Áö¹è°èÃþ ¹× ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °æÇèµÇ´Â ´À³¦µéÀÇ ¹üÀ§°¡, ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀÇ ¹üÀ§º¸´Ù ÈξÀ ÀÛ°í, ºó¾àÇÏ°í »ç¼ÒÇÑ °ÍÀ̱⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

People of our circle, aestheticians, usually think and say the opposite. I remember the writer Goncharov, an intelligent, educated man, though a thorough city-dweller and an aesthetician, telling me that after the Hunter¡¯s Notes of Turgenev there was nothing left to write about the life of the people. It was all used up. The life of laboring people seemed so simple to him that after Turgenev¡¯s stories of the people there was nothing left to describe. But the life of the wealthy people, with its love affairs and self-dissatisfactions, seemed to him full of infinite content. One hero kissed his lady¡¯s palm, another her elbow, a third in some other way. One languishes from laziness, another because he is unloved. And it seemed to him there was no end of diversity in this area. And this opinion, that the life of laboring people is poor in content, while our life, the life of idle people, is full of interesting things, is shared by a great many people of our circle. The life of the laboring man, with its infinitely diverse forms of labor and the dangers connected with it on the sea or under the ground, with his travels, dealings with proprietors, superiors, comrades, with people of other confessions and nationalities, his struggle with nature, wild animals, his relations with domestic animals, his labors in the forest, the steppe, the fields, the orchard, the kitchen garden, his relations with his wife and children, not only as close and dear people but as co-workers, helpers, replacements in his work, his relation to all economic questions, not as subjects of discussion or vanity, but as questions vital for himself and his family, with his pride in self-sufficiency and service to others, with his pleasure in time off, and all these interests pervaded by a religious attitude towards these phenomena — to us, who have no such interests and no religious understanding, this life seems monotonous compared with the small pleasures and insignificant cares of our life, not of labor and creativity, but of the use and destruction of what others have made for us. We think that the feelings experienced by people of our own time and circle are very significant and diverse, but in reality almost all the feelings of people of our circle come down to three very insignificant and uncomplicated feelings: the feelings of pride, sexual lust, and the tedium of living. And these three feelings, with their ramifications, make up almost exclusively the contents of the art of the wealthy classes.

¿ì¸® ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µé, ¹ÌÇÐÀÚµéÀº, ÈçÈ÷µé Á¤¹Ý´ë¸¦ »ý°¢ÇÏ°í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. ³ª´Â Áö¼ºÀûÀÌ¸ç ±³À°¹ÞÀº »ç¶÷ÀÎ ÀÛ°¡ °ïÂ÷·ÎÇÁ¸¦ ±â¾ïÇϴµ¥, ±×´Â ºñ·Ï µµ½Ã °ÅÁÖÀÚ¸ç ¹ÌÇÐÀڸ鼭µµ, Åõ¸£°Ô³×ÇÁÀÇ »ç³É²ÛÀÇ ¸Þ¸ð ÈÄ¿¡ ¹ÎÁßÀÇ »î¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¾µ °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ³²Áö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù°í ¸»Çß´Ù. ¸ðµÎ ¼ÒÁøµÇ¾î ¹ö·È´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀÇ »îÀº ±×¿¡°Ô´Â ³Ê¹«³ª ´Ü¼øÇؼ­ Åõ¸£°Ô³×ÇÁÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ À̾߱âµé ÈÄ¿¡ ´õ ÀÌ»ó ¹¦»çÇÒ °ÍÀÌ ³²Áö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ »îÀº, ¾ÖÁ¤ Çà°¢µé ¹× Àڱ⠺Ҹ¸Á·µé·Î °¡µæ Â÷¼­ ±×¿¡°Ô´Â ¹«ÇÑÇÑ ³»¿ëµé·Î °¡µæ Âù °Íó·³ º¸ÀÎ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¾î¶² ÁÖÀΰøÀÌ ±×ÀÇ ¼÷³àÀÇ ¼Õ¿¡ , ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷Àº ÆÈ²ÞÄ¡¿¡, ±×¸®°í Á¦ »ïÀÚ´Â ´Ù¸¥ ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î  Ű½ºÇß´Ù. ÇÑ »ç¶÷Àº °ÔÀ»·¯¼­, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷Àº »ç¶ûÀ» ÀҾ  ºñÂüÇØÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×¿¡°Ô´Â ÀÌ ºÐ¾ß¿¡¼­ ´Ù¾ç¼ºÀÇ ³¡ÀÌ ¾ø´Â °Íó·³ º¸¿´´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÀÌ ÀǰßÀº, ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀÇ »îÀº ³»¿ëÀÌ ºó¾àÇÏ°í ¹Ý¸é¿¡ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ »î, °ÔÀ¸¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ »îÀº, Èï¹Ì·Î¿î °Íµé·Î °¡µæ Â÷ ÀÖ´Ù´Â ÀǰßÀº, ¿ì¸® ¹üÁÖÀÇ ´ë´ÜÈ÷ ¸¹Àº »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °øÀ¯µÈ´Ù. ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀÇ »îÀº, ÇØ»óÀ̵ç À°»óÀÌµç ±×¿Í ¿¬°üµÇ´Â ¹«ÇÑÈ÷ ´Ù¾çÇÑ ¸ð½ÀµéÀÇ ³ëµ¿°ú À§Çèµé·Î Â÷ÀÖ°í, ¿©Çàµé, °æ¿µÀÚµé, »ó°üµé, µ¿·áµé°ú °Å·¡µé, ´Ù¸¥ Á¾±³µé ¹× ±¹ÀûµéÀ» Áö´Ñ »ç¶÷µé°ú ÇÔ²² Çϸç, ÀÚ¿¬, ¾ß»ýµ¿¹°µé°úÀÇ ÅõÀï, °¡Ãàµé°úÀÇ °ü°èµé, ½£ ¼Ó, ÃÊ¿ø, ¹çµé, ³óÀå, ä¼Ò¹ç¿¡¼­ÀÇ ±×ÀÇ ³ëµ¿µé, ¾Æ³»¿Í Àڽĵé°úÀÇ °ü°èµé·Î ÇÔ²²Çϸç, °¡±î¿ì¸ç »ç¶ûÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µé·Î¼­ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ±×ÀÇ ÀÛ¾÷¿¡¼­ µ¿·áµé, Á¶¼öµé, ´ëü Àϲ۵é·Î¼­, ¸ðµç °æÁ¦ ¹®Á¦µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±×ÀÇ °ü°è, Åä·Ð ȤÀº Ç㿵ÀÇ ÁÖÁ¦·Î¼­°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ÀڽŰú °¡Á·µé¿¡°Ô Ä¡¸íÀûÀÎ ¹®Á¦µéÀÌ ÀÖ°í, ÀÚÁ·ÇÏ´Â ÀÚÁ¸½É ¹× ŸÀε鿡 ´ëÇÑ ºÀ»ç·Î¼­, ÈÞ½Ä ½Ã°£ÀÇ Áñ°Å¿ò, ±×¸®°í ÀÌ·± Çö»óµéÀ» ÇâÇÑ Á¾±³Àû °æÇâµéÀÌ ½º¸çµç ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ü½ÉµéÀº — ¾Æ¹«·± °ü½Éµé ¹× ¾Æ¹«·± Á¾±³Àû ±ú´ÞÀ½À» Áö´ÏÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô, ÀÌ·± »îÀº ¿ì¸® Á¶±×¸¸ Äè¶ôµé ¹× »ç¼ÒÇÑ °ü½Éµé¿¡ ºñÇØ ´ÜÁ¶·Î¿ö º¸ÀÌÁö¸¸, ±×°ÍÀº ³ëµ¿ ¹× âÀǼº¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼­°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¿ì¸®¸¦ À§ÇØ ¸¸µç °ÍÀ» ÀÌ¿ëÇÏ¸ç ÆÄ±«ÇÏ´Â °Í¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼­ÀÌ´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ì¸® ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ½Ã´ë ¹× ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °æÇèµÇ´Â ´À³¦µéÀÌ ¸Å¿ì Àǹ̽ÉÀåÇÏ°í ´Ù¾çÇÏ´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ Çö½ÇÀûÀ¸·Î ¿ì¸® ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ °ÅÀÇ ¸ðµç ´À³¦µéÀº ¼¼ °¡ÁöÀÇ ¸Å¿ì ÇÏÂú°í ´Ü¼øÇÑ ´À³¦µé·Î ±ÍÂøµÈ´Ù: Ç㿵, ¼º¿å, ±×¸®°í »îÀÇ ±ÇÅÂÀÇ ´À³¦µé. ±×¸®°í ÀÌµé ¼¼°¡Áö ´À³¦µéÀº, ±×°ÍµéÀÇ °ç°¡Áöµé°ú ÇÔ²², °ÅÀÇ ¹èŸÀûÀ¸·Î ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ³»¿ëµéÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÑ´Ù.

Earlier, at the very beginning of the separation of upper-class art from popular art, the chief content of art was the feeling of pride. So it was during the time of the Renaissance and after, when the chief subject of works of art was praise of the powerful — popes, kings, dukes. Odes, madrigals, cantatas, hymns were written in their praise; their portraits were painted, their statues were sculpted, glorifying them in various ways. Later the element of sexual lust began to enter art more and more, becoming (with very few exceptions, and in novels and dramas with no exceptions) the necessary condition of every work of art of the wealthy classes.

ÀÌÀü¿¡, »ó·ù °è±ÞÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ´ëÁß ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ºÐ¸®µÇ´ø ¹Ù·Î Ãʱ⿡, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÁÖµÈ ³»¿ëÀº Ç㿵ÀÇ ´À³¦À̾ú´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¸£³×»ó½º ½Ã´ë ¹× ÀÌÈÄ¿¡´Â ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀÇ ÇÙ½É ÁÖÁ¦´Â ±Ç·Â — ±³È²µé, ¿Õµé, ±ºÁÖµé — ÀÇ Âù¾çÀ̾ú´Ù. ¼Û½Ãµé, ¼Ò ¿¬°¡µé, ĭŸŸµé, ¹× Âù¼Û°¡µéÀÌ ±×µéÀ» Âù¾çÇϱâ À§ÇØ ¾²¿©Á³´Ù; ±×µéÀÇ ÃÊ»óÈ­µéÀÌ ±×·ÁÁ³À¸¸ç, ±×µéÀÇ Çü»óµéÀÌ Á¶°¢µÇ¾î¼­, ´Ù¾çÇÑ ¹æ¹ýµé·Î ±×µéÀ» ¹ÌÈ­½ÃÄ×´Ù. ´ÙÀ½À¸·Î ¼ºÀû Ž¿å¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿ä¼Ò°¡ ´õ¿í ´õ ¸¹ÀÌ µé¾î áÀ¸¸ç, ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¸ðµç ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰ¿¡(°ÅÀÇ ¿¹¿Ü ¾øÀÌ, ±×¸®°í ¼Ò¼³µé ¹× ¿¬±Øµé¿¡´Â ¿¹¿Ü ¾øÀÌ) ÇÊ¿ä Á¶°ÇÀÌ µÇ¾ú´Ù.

¡¡

Still later, the number of feelings conveyed by the new art was increased by the third feeling that makes up the content of the art of the wealthy classes — namely, the feeling of the tedium of living. This feeling was expressed at the beginning of the present century only by exceptional people — Byron, Leopardi and later Heine — but has recently become fashionable and is now expressed by the most banal and ordinary people. The French critic Doumic says quite correctly of the main feature of the works of the new writers:

Á¶±Ý µÚ¿¡, »õ·Î¿î ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Àü´ÞµÇ´Â ´À³¦µéÀÇ ¼ýÀÚ´Â ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ³»¿ëÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â ¼¼ ¹øÂ° ´À³¦ — Áï, »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±ÇÅÂÀÇ ´À³¦ — À¸·Î Áõ°¡µÇ¾ú´Ù. ÀÌ ´À³¦Àº Çö ¼¼±âÀÇ ½ÃÀÛ ¹«·Æ¿¡ ¿¹¿ÜÀûÀÎ »ç¶÷µé — ¹ÙÀÌ·±, ·¹¿ÀÆÄµð ¹× ÈıâÀÇ ÇÏÀ̳נ — ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ Ç¥ÇöµÇ¾úÁö¸¸ ÃÖ±Ù¿¡ À¯ÇàÇÏ¿´À¸¸ç ÇöÀç´Â ´ë°³ÀÇ ÁøºÎÇÏ¸ç Æò¹üÇÑ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Ç¥ÇöµÈ´Ù. ÇÁ¶û½ºÀÇ ºñÆò°¡ µÎ¹Ì´Â »õ·Î¿î ÀÛ°¡µéÀÇ ÀÛǰµéÀÇ ÁÖµÈ Æ¯Â¡¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¸Å¿ì Á¤È®ÇÏ°Ô ¸»ÇÑ´Ù:

. . . c¡¯est la lassitude de vivre, le mépris de l¡¯époque présente. le regret d¡¯un autre temps aperçu à travers l¡¯illusion de l¡¯art, le goût du paradoxe, le besoin de se singulariser, une aspiration de raffinés vers la simplicité, l¡¯adoration enfantine du merveilleux, la séduction maladive de la rêverie, l¡¯ébranlement des nerfs, surtout l¡¯appel exaspere de la sensualité. [52]

'... ±×°ÍÀº »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ½ÇÁõ, Çö ½Ã´ë¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °æ¸ê, ¿¹¼úÀ̶õ ȯ»óÀ» ÅëÇØ ÀνĵǴ ´Ù¸¥ ½Ã´ë, ¿ª¼³¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÃëÇâ, ÀÚ½ÅÀ» ¾Ë¸®°í ½ÍÀº ÇÊ¿ä, ¼¼·ÃµÈ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ´Ü¼ø¼ºÀ» ÇâÇÑ °¥¸Á, °æÀÌ·Î¿î °Íµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ À¯¾ÆÀû ¼þ¹è, ¸ù»ó¿¡ ´ëÇÑ º´ÀûÀÎ À¯È¤, Â÷ºÐÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀº ½Å°æÁú, ±×¸®°í ¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ À°¿å¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Â¥Áõ³ª´Â È£¼ÒÀÌ´Ù.'

And, indeed, of these three feelings, sensuality, being the lowest, accessible not only to all people but also to all animals, constitutes the chief subject of all works of art in modern times.

±×¸®°í, »ç½Ç»ó, ÀÌ ¼¼°¡Áö ´À³¦µé Áß¿¡¼­, À°¿åÀº, °¡Àå Àú±ÞÇÑ °ÍÀ¸·Î, ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó µ¿¹°µé¿¡°Ôµµ Àû¿ëµÇ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, Çö ½Ã´ëµé¿¡ À־ ¸ðµç ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀÇ ÇÙ½É ÁÖÁ¦¸¦ ±¸¼ºÇÑ´Ù.

From Boccaccio to Marcel Prevost, [53] all novels, narrative poems and lyrics invariably convey feelings of sexual love in its various forms. Adultery is not just the favorite but the only theme of all novels. A performance is not a performance unless women bared above or below appear in it under some pretext. Ballads, songs — all these express lust with various degrees of poeticizing.

º¸Ä«Ä¡¿ÀºÎÅÍ ¸¶¸£¼¿ ÇÁ·¹º¸½ºÆ®±îÁö, ¸ðµç ¼Ò¼³µé, ¼³È­Ã¼ ½Ãµé ¹× ¼­Á¤½ÃµéÀº ÇѰᰰÀÌ ´Ù¾çÇÑ Çüŵé·Î ¼ºÀûÀÎ »ç¶ûÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÑ´Ù. °£ÅëÀº ¸ðµç ¼Ò¼³µéÀÇ ´Ü°ñ ¹× À¯ÀÏÇÑ ÁÖÁ¦ÀÌ´Ù. °ø¿¬Àº ¾î¶² ÇΰèµçÁö ±× ¾È¿¡ »óü³ª ÇÏü¸¦ ¹ú°Å¹þÀº ¿©ÀÚµéÀÌ µîÀåÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù¸é °ø¿¬ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. ¹ß¶óµå, °¡¿äµé — ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ÍµéÀº ´Ù¾çÇÏ°Ô ½ÃÀûÀÎ ºÐÀ§±â·Î À°¿åÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÑ´Ù.

The majority of paintings by French artists portray female nakedness in various forms. There is hardly a page or a poem in the new French literature without a description of nakedness or the use here and there, appropriately or inappropriately, of the favorite word and notion nu [¡®nude¡¯]. There is a certain writer named Remy de Gourmont, who is published and considered talented. In order to form an idea of the new writers, I read his novel Les chevaux de Diomède. [54] This is an unbroken, detailed description of the sexual relations some gentleman had with various women. Not a page is without lust-arousing descriptions. It is the same with Pierre Louys¡¯s successful book Aphrodite, and the same with another book I recently came across, Certains, by Huysmans, [55] which is supposed to be a criticism of painters; it is the same, with the rarest exceptions, in all French novels. These are all works by people suffering from erotic mania. These people are apparently convinced that, since their entire life, as a result of their morbid condition, is concentrated on the smearing about of sexual abominations, it must mean that the entire life of the world is concentrated on the same thing. And the entire artistic world of Europe and America imitates these people suffering from erotic mania.

ÇÁ¶û½º È­°¡µé¿¡ ÀÇÇÑ ´ëºÎºÐÀÇ ±×¸²µéÀº ´Ù¾çÇÑ Çüŵé·Î ¿©¼ºÀÇ ³ªÃ¼¸¦ ¹¦»çÇÑ´Ù. »õ·Î¿î ÇÁ¶û½º ¹®ÇÐÀÇ ±ÛÀ̳ª ½Ã¿¡¼­ ³ªÃ¼¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¹¦»ç ȤÀº ¿©±â Àú±â¿¡ ÀûÇÕÇÏ°Ô È¤Àº ºÎÀûÇÕÇÏ°Ô Áñ°Ü ã´Â ´Ü¾î ¹× °³³äÀÎ nu ['³ªÃ¼']ÀÇ »ç¿ëÀÌ ¾ø´Â °ÍÀº °ÅÀÇ ¾ø´Ù. ·¹¹Ì ±¸¸ùÀ̶ó´Â ¾î¶² ÀÛ°¡°¡ ÀÖ´Ù, ±×ÀÇ ÀÛǰÀº ÃâÆÇµÇ°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç Àç´ÉÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁø´Ù. »õ·Î¿î ÀÛ°¡µéÀÇ °³³äÀ» Çü¼ºÇϱâ À§ÇØ, ³ª´Â ±×ÀÇ ¼Ò¼³ Les chevaux de Diomède¸¦ ÀÐ¾î º¸¾Ò´Ù. À̰ÍÀº ¾î¶² ½Å»ç°¡ ¸¹Àº ¿©¼ºµé°ú °¡Áø ¼º °ü°èµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿¬¼ÓÀûÀÌ¸ç »ó¼¼ÇÑ ¹¦»çÀÌ´Ù. ´Ü ÇÑ ÆäÀÌÁöµµ À°¿åÀ» Àϱú¿ì´Â ¹¦»çµéÀÌ ¾ø´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾ø´Ù. »ß¿¡¸£ ·çÀ̽ºÀÇ ¼º°øÀûÀΠå AphroditeÀÇ °æ¿ìµµ ¸¶Âù°¡Áö¸ç, ³»°¡ ¿ì¿¬È÷ ÀÐÀº ´Ù¸¥ ÀÛ°¡ ÈÖ½º¸ÁÀÇ Certainsµµ µ¿ÀÏÇϸç, ±×°ÍÀº È­°¡µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ºñÆòÀÌ´Ù; µå¹® ¿¹¿ÜµéÀ» Á¦¿ÜÇÑ´Ù¸é, ¸ðµç ÇÁ¶û½º ¼Ò¼³µé¿¡¼­ µ¿ÀÏÇÏ´Ù. À̰͵éÀº ¸ðµÎ È£»öÁõ¿¡ ºüÁ® ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇÑ ÀÛǰµéÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀº ºÐ¸íÈ÷, ±×µéÀÇ º´ÀûÀÎ »óÅÂÀÇ °á°ú·Î¼­ ±×µéÀÇ Àüü »îÀÌ ¼ºÀûÀÎ Çø¿Àµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¹¦»ç¿¡ ÁýÁߵǾî Àֱ⠶§¹®¿¡, ¼¼°èÀÇ Àüü »îÀÌ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ °Í¿¡ ÁýÁߵǾî ÀÖ´Ù°í  È®½ÅÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í À¯·´ ¹× ¾Æ¸Þ¸®Ä«ÀÇ Àüü ¿¹¼ú ¼¼°è´Â È£»öÁõ¿¡ ºüÁø ÀÌ·± »ç¶÷µéÀ» Èä³» ³»°í ÀÖ´Ù.

And so, as a result of the unbelief and the exclusive life of the upper classes, the art of these classes became impoverished in content and was all reduced to the conveying of the feelings of vanity, the tedium of living and, above all, sexual lust.

±×¸®°í »ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ ºÒ½Å¾Ó ¹× ¹èŸÀû »îÀÇ °á°ú·Î, ÀÌ·± °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº ³»¿ëÀÌ ºó°ïÇØÁ³À¸¸ç ¸ðµÎ°¡ Ç㿵, »îÀÇ ±ÇÅ ¹×, ¹«¾ùº¸´Ù, ¼ºÀû Ž¿åÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÔÀ¸·Î Àü¶ôµÇ¾ú´Ù.
¡¡ ¡¡

X

¡¡ ¡¡

As a result of the unbelief of people of the upper classes, the art of these people became poor in content. But, besides that, while becoming more and more exclusive, it became at the same time more and more complex, fanciful and unclear.

»ó·ù °è±Þ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ºÒ½Å¾ÓÀÇ °á°ú·Î¼­, ÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº ³»¿ëÀÌ ÀúÇϵǾú´Ù. ±×·¯³ª, ±× »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, Á¡Á¡ ´õ ¹èŸÀûÀÌ µÇ¾î°¡´Â °¡¿îµ¥, ±×°ÍÀº µ¿½Ã¿¡ ´õ¿í´õ º¹ÀâÇϰí, ºñÇö½ÇÀûÀ̸ç ÀÌÇØÇÏ±â ¾î·Æ°Ô µÇ¾î °¬´Ù.

When an artist of the whole people — such as Greek artists or the Jewish prophets once were — created his works, he naturally strove to say what he had to say in such fashion that his work would be understood by all people. But when an artist created for a small circle of people who lived in exceptional conditions, or even for one person and his courtiers, for a pope, a cardinal, a king, a duke, a queen, a king¡¯s mistress, he naturally sought only to influence these people who were known to him and who lived in certain conditions with which he was familiar. And this easier way of calling up feelings pushed the artist involuntarily towards expressing himself in allusions unclear to everyone else and comprehensible only to the initiate. First of all, one could say more that way, and, secondly, this manner of expression contained within itself, even for the initiate, a certain special charm of obscurity. This manner of expression, consisting of euphemisms, mythological and historical allusions, came into use more and more, and seems to have reached its extreme limits recently in so-called decadent art. Recently, not only have vagueness, mysteriousness, obscurity and inaccessibility to the masses been considered a merit and a condition of the poeticality of artistic works, but so, too, have imprecision, indefiniteness and ineloquence.

Àüü »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡ — ¿¾³¯¿¡ ÀÖ¾ú´ø ±×¸®½º ¿¹¼ú°¡µé ȤÀº À¯ÅÂÀÎ ¼±ÁöÀÚµéó·³ — °¡ ±×ÀÇ ÀÛǰµéÀ» ¸¸µé¾úÀ» ¶§, ±×´Â ´ç¿¬È÷ ±×ÀÇ ÀÛǰÀÌ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ÀÖµµ·Ï ¸»ÇØ¾ß ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ¸»ÇÏ·Á ¾Ö½è´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¿¹¼ú°¡°¡ ¿¹¿ÜÀûÀÎ »óȲµé¿¡¼­ »ç´Â Á¶±×¸¸ ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀ» À§ÇØ, ȤÀº ÇÑ »ç¶÷ ±×¸®°í  ±×ÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµéÀ» À§ÇØ, ±³È², Ãß±â°æ, ¿Õ, ±ºÁÖ,¿©¿Õ, ¿Õºñ¸¦ À§ÇØ ¸¸µé¾úÀ» ¶§, ±×´Â ´ç¿¬È÷ ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×¿¡°Ô ¾Ë·ÁÁ® ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ±×°¡ Ä£¹ÐÇÑ Æ¯Á¤ »óȲµé ¾È¿¡ »ç´Â ÀÌ·± »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ¿µÇâÀ» ÁÖ°íÀÚ Ãß±¸ÇÏ¿´´Ù. ±×¸®°í ´À³¦µéÀ» ºÒ·¯³»´Â ÀÌ·± ´õ ½¬¿î ¹æ¹ýÀº ¿¹¼ú°¡·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý ÀǵµÇÏÁö ¾Ê°Ô ´Ù¸¥ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç ¿ÀÁ÷ ȸ¿øµé¿¡°Ô¸¸ ³³µæµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ¾Ï½Ãµé·Î ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÏ´Â ÂÊÀ¸·Î ¹Ð¾î³»¾ú´Ù. ¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ, ±×·± ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î ´õ ¸¹ÀÌ Ç¥ÇöµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ¾úÀ» °ÍÀ̸ç, µÑ°·Î, ÀÌ·± Ç¥Çö ¹æ½ÄÀº ½ÉÁö¾î ȸ¿øµé¿¡°Ôµµ ±× ÀÚü ¾È¿¡¼­ ¸ðÈ£ÇÔ °°Àº ¾î¶² Ưº°ÇÑ ¸Å·ÂÀ» ´ã°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ÀÌ·± Ç¥Çö ¹æ½ÄÀº, ¿Ï°î¾î¹ýµé, ½ÅÈ­Àû ¹× ¿ª»çÀû ¾Ï½Ãµé·Î ±¸¼ºµÇ¾î¼­, Á¡Á¡ ´õ ¸¹ÀÌ »ç¿ëµÇ°Ô µÇ¾ú°í, ÃÖ±Ù¿¡ ¼ÒÀ§ µ¥Ä«´ç ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ±× ±ØÇÑ¿¡ µµ´ÞÇÑ °Íó·³ º¸ÀδÙ. ÃÖ±Ù µé¾î¼­ ¹ÎÁßµéÀ» ÇâÇÑ ¸ðÈ£ÇÔ, ½ÅºñÇÔ, ¾Ö¸ÅÇÔ ¹× ³­ÇØÇÔÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀû ÀÛǰµéÀÇ ½Ã¼ºÀÇ ÀåÁ¡ÀÌÀÚ Çö»óÀ¸·Î ¿©°ÜÁ® ¿ÔÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ºÎÁ¤È®ÇÔ, ºÒÈ®Á¤¼º ¹× ´­º¯µµ ±×·¯Çß´Ù.

Théophile Gautier, [56] in his preface to the famous Fleurs du Mal, says that Baudelaire rid his poetry, as far as possible, of eloquence, passion, and a too exactly copied truth — ¡®¡®l¡¯eloquence, la passion, et la verité calquée trop exactement¡¯.

µð¿ÀÇÊ ±¸¶ì¿¡´Â, ±×ÀÇ À¯¸íÇÑ Fleurs du MalÀÇ ¼­¹®¿¡¼­ ¸»Çϱ⸦, º¸µé·¹¸£´Â ±×ÀÇ ½Ã¿¡¼­ °¡´ÉÇÑ ÇÑ ¿õº¯, ¿­Á¤, ±×¸®°í ³Ê¹«³ª Á¤È®È÷ ´àÀº Áø¸®¸¦ Á¦°ÅÇß´Ù°í ÇÑ´Ù, ¡®l¡¯eloquence, la passion, et la verité calquée trop exactement¡¯.

And Baudelaire did not only say this, but also proved it in his poems, and still more so in the prose of his Petits poèmes en prose, the meaning of which must be puzzled out like a rebus, and the majority of which remain unriddled.

±×¸®°í º¸µé·¹¸£´Â À̰ÍÀ» ¸»ÇßÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×ÀÇ ½Ãµé¿¡¼­, ´õ ³ª¾Æ°¡¼­ ±×ÀÇ »ê¹® Petits poèmes en prose¿¡¼­  À̰ÍÀ» Áõ¸íÇßÀ¸¸ç, ±× Àǹ̴ ¼ö¼ö²²±âó·³ Ç®¾î¾ß ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ̾úÀ¸¸ç, ±× ´ëºÎºÐÀº Ç® ¼ö ¾ø´Â ü·Î ÀÖ´Ù.

The poet Verlaine, following after Baudelaire, and also considered great, even wrote a whole Art poétique, in which he advises writing like this:

º¸µé·¹¸£ µÚ¸¦ À̾ ÈǸ¢ÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁø ½ÃÀÎ º£¸£·»Àº ½ÉÁö¾î ´ë´ÜÇÑ Art poétiqueÀ» ½èÀ¸¸ç, ¿©±â¼­ ±×´Â ÀÌ·¸°Ô ¾µ °ÍÀ» ±Ç°íÇÑ´Ù:
¡¡ ¡¡

De la musique avant toute chose,

Et pour cela préfere l¡¯Impair

Plus vague et plus soluble dans l¡¯air,

Sans rien en lui qui pèse ou qui pose.

¹«¾ùº¸´Ù À½¾ÇÀº,
±×¸®°í ±×°ÍÀº ºÒ±ÕÇüÀ» ÁÁ¾ÆÇϸç,
°ø±â ¼Ó¿¡ ´õ Èñ¹ÌÇÏ°í ´õ ½±°Ô ³ìÀ¸¸ç,
±× ¾È¿¡ ¹«°Ì°Å³ª ´ç±æ °ÍÀÌ ¾ø´Ù.

Il faut aussi que tu n¡¯ailles point

Choisir tes mots sans quelque méprise:

Rien de plus cher que la chanson grise

Où l¡¯Indécis au Précis se joint.

±×¸®°í ¶Ç ´ç½ÅÀº ¾Æ¹«·± ¸ð¿å ¾øÀÌ
´ç½ÅÀÇ ¸»µéÀ» °ñ¶ó¼­´Â ¾È µÈ´Ù:

ºñƲ°Å¸®´Â ³ë·¡º¸´Ù ±ÍÇÑ °ÍÀº ¾øÀ¸´Ï
°Å±â¿£ Á¤È®ÇÑ º»´ÉÀÌ ¿«¿© ÀÖ´Ù.

And further on:

±×¸®°í ³ª¾Æ°¡¼­:

De la musique encore et toujours!
Que ton vers soit la chose envolée
Qu¡¯on sent qui fuit d¡¯une âme en allée
Vers d¡¯autres cieux à d¡¯autres amours.

À½¾ÇÀº ´Ù½Ã ±×¸®°í ¾ðÁ¦³ª!
´ç½ÅÀÇ ½Ã±¸µéÀÌ ³¯°³°¡ µÇ¾î
´Ù¸¥ ÇÏ´Ã ¾È¿¡ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶ûÀ» ÇâÇØ

¶°³ª´Â ¿µÈ¥À¸·Î ³¯¾Æ°¨À» ´À³¢°Ô ÇÑ´Ù.

Que ton vers soit la bonne aventure
Éparse au vent crispé du matin
Qui va fleurant la menthe et Ie thym .. .
Et tout Ie reste est littérature. [57]

´ç½ÅÀÇ ½Ã±¸´Â Çà¿îÀÌ µÇ¾î
½Î´ÃÇÑ ¾ÆÄ§ ¹Ù¶÷¿¡ Èð¾îÁ®
¹ÎÆ®¿Í ŸÀÓ ÇâÀ» ¸ÃÀ¸¸ç °£´Ù...
±×·¯¸é ³ª¸ÓÁö ¸ðµÎ´Â ¹®ÇÐÀ̶ó.

After these two come Mallarmé, regarded as the most important of the young poets, who says directly that the charm of a poem consists in our having to guess its meaning, that there should always be some riddle in a poem:

±×¸®°í ÀÌµé µÎ »ç¶÷ ´ÙÀ½À¸·Î ¸»¶ó¸Þ°¡ µîÀåÇϸç, ±×´Â ÀþÀº ½ÃÀεé Áß¿¡ °¡Àå Áß¿äÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁö°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±×´Â ½ÃÀÇ ¸Å·ÂÀº ¿ì¸®°¡ ±× Àǹ̸¦ ÃßÃøÇØ¾ß ÇÔ¿¡ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ½Ã¿¡´Â ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¾à°£ÀÇ ¼ö¼ö²²³¢°¡ Á¸ÀçÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù°í ³ë°ñÀûÀ¸·Î ¸»ÇÑ´Ù:

Je pense qu¡¯il faut qu¡¯il n¡¯y ait qu¡¯allusion. La contemplation des objets, l¡¯image s¡¯envolant des rêveries suscitées par eux, sont le chant: les Parnassiens, eux, prennent la chose entièrement et la montrent; par là ils manquent de mystère; ils retirent aux esprits cette joie délicieuse de croire qu¡¯ils creent. Nommer un objet, c¡¯est supprimer les trois quarts de la jouissance du poète qui est faite du bonheur de deviner peu à peu; le suggérer voila le rêve. C¡¯est le parfait usage de ce mystère qui constitue le symbole: évoquer petit à petit un objet et en dégager un état d¡¯âme par une série de déchiffrements.

. . . Si un être d¡¯une intelligence moyenne et d¡¯une prépara¡©tion littéraire insuffisante ouvre par hasard un livre ainsi fait et pretend en jouir, il y a malentendu, il faut remettre les choses à leur place. Il doit y avoir toujours énigme en poésie, et c¡¯est le but de la littérature; il n¡¯y en a pas d¡¯autre — d¡¯évoquer les objets. [58]

³ª´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ ¾Ï½Ã ¸¸ÀÌ ÀÖ¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù. ´ë»óµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °¨»óÀº, ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ºÒ·¯³»´Â °ø»óµé ¼Ó¿¡ ½ºÃİ¡´Â ¿µ»óÀº,  ³ë·¡´Ù: ½ÃÀεéÀº, ±×µéÀÇ ¿ªÇҷμ­, »ç¹°À» Àüü·Î ¸é¼­ ±×°ÍÀ» µå·¯³½´Ù; °á±¹ ±×°ÍµéÀº ½Åºñ°¡ °á¿©µÈ´Ù; ±×°ÍµéÀº ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¸¶À½µé¿¡¼­ ±×°ÍµéÀÌ Ã¢Á¶Çϰí ÀÖ´Ù°í ¹Ï´Â ´ÞÄÞÇÑ Áñ°Å¿òÀ» ¾Ñ¾Æ °£´Ù. ´ë»ó¿¡ À̸§À» Á¤ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº Á¶±Ý¾¿ ÃßÃøÇØ º¸´Â Áñ°Å¿ò¿¡¼­ ºñ·ÔµÇ´Â ½ÃÀÎÀÇ Áñ°Å¿òÀÇ »çºÐÀÇ »ïÀ» ¾ï´©¸£´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù; ¾Ï½Ã — ±×°ÍÀº ¹Ù·Î ²ÞÀÌ´Ù.

»ó¡À» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¹Ù·Î ÀÌ·± ½ÅºñÀÇ ¿Ïº®ÇÑ »ç¿ëÀÌ´Ù: ´ë»óÀ» Á¶±Ý¾¿ ºÒ·¯³»°í ÀÏ·ÃÀÇ ÇØµ¶µéÀ» ÅëÇØ ±×·ÎºÎÅÍ ¸¶À½ÀÇ »óŸ¦ ÇØ¹æ½ÃŰ´Â °Í:

... ¸¸ÀÏ º¸ÅëÀÇ Áö¼º°ú ÃæºÐÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀº ¹®ÇÐÀû ¼Ò¾çÀ» Áö´Ñ »ç¶÷ÀÌ ÀÌ·¸°Ô Áö¾îÁø Ã¥À» ¿ì¿¬È÷ ¿­¾î º¸°í ±×°ÍÀ» Áñ±â·Á ½ÃµµÇÑ´Ù¸é, ¿ÀÇØ°¡ Á¸ÀçÇϸç, ´ë»óµéÀÌ ¹Ýµå½Ã Á¦ÀÚ¸®¿¡ ³õ¿©Á®¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ½Ã¿¡´Â ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¼ö¼ö²²³¢°¡ ÀÖ¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ±×°ÍÀÌ ¹®ÇÐÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀÌ´Ù; ´Ù¸¥ °Í — ´ë»óµéÀ» ºÒ·¯³»´Â °Í — ¿Ü´Â ¾ø´Ù.

Thus, among the new poets, obscurity is made a dogma, as the French critic Doumic, who has yet to recognize the truth of this dogma, quite correctly says: ¡®Il serait temps aussi de finir avec cette fameuse théorie de l¡¯obscurite que la nouvelle ecole a elevee en effet à la hauteur d¡¯un dogme.¡¯ [59]

±×¸®ÇÏ¿©, »õ·Î¿î ½ÃÀÎµé  »çÀÌ¿¡¼­, ¸ðÈ£ÇÔÀº ½ÅÁ¶·Î µÇ¾î ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ÇÁ¶û½º ºñÆò°¡ µÎ¹Ì´Â, ÀÌ¹Ì ÀÌ·± ½ÅÁ¶ÀÇ Áø¸é¸ñÀ» ÀνÄÇÏ¿´À¸¹Ç·Î, ¾ÆÁÖ Á¤È®È÷ ¸»ÇÑ´Ù: '¿ì¸®´Â ¶ÇÇÑ »ç½Ç»ó »õ·Î¿î ÇÐÆÄ·Î¼­ ½ÅÁ¶ÀÇ À§Ä¡·Î °Ý»óµÇ¾î ¹ö¸° ÀÌ·± À¯¸íÇÑ ¸ðÈ£ÇÔÀÇ À̷аú´Â Àý±³ÇØ¾ß ÇÒ ¶§´Ù.'

But it is not only French writers who think this way.

ÀÌ·¸°Ô »ý°¢ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ÇÁ¶û½º ÀÛ°¡µé »Ó¸¸ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù.

The poets of all other nationalities think and act in the same way: Germans, Scandinavians, Italians, Russians and Englishmen; all modern artists in all branches of art think in the same way: in painting, in sculpture and in music. Guided by Nietzsche and Wagner, artists of modern times think that there is no need for them to be understood by the crude masses, that it is enough for them to evoke poetic states in ¡®the best nurtured men¡¯, to use the expression of one English aesthetician. [60]

´Ù¸¥ ¸ðµç ±¹ÀûµéÀÇ ½ÃÀε鵵 ¶È °°ÀÌ »ý°¢Çϰí ÇൿÇÑ´Ù: µ¶ÀÏÀεé, ½ºÄ­µð³ªºñ¾ÆÀεé, ÀÌÅ»¸®¾ÆÀεé, ·¯½Ã¾ÆÀÎµé ¹× ¿µ±¹Àεé; ±×¸®°í ¸ðµç ¿¹¼ú ºÐ¾ßµéÀÇ ¸ðµç Çö´ë ÀÛ°¡µéÀº µ¿ÀÏÇÏ°Ô »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù: ¹Ì¼ú¿¡¼­, Á¶°¢¿¡¼­ ±×¸®°í À½¾Ç¿¡¼­. ´Ïü¿Í ¹Ù±×³Ê¿¡ ¿µÇâÀ» ¹ÞÀº Çö´ëÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀº ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ¹«½ÄÇÑ ´ëÁߵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ ÀÌÇØµÉ Çʿ䰡 ¾ø´Ù°í, Áï, ¾î¶² ¿µ±¹ ¹ÌÇÐÀÚÀÇ Ç¥ÇöÀ» ºô¸°´Ù¸é, ±×°ÍµéÀÌ 'ÃÖ°í·Î ¾çÀ°µÈ »ç¶÷µé' ¾È¿¡ ½ÃÀûÀÎ °¨Á¤µéÀ» ºÒ·¯  ÀÏÀ¸Å´À¸·Î½á Á·ÇÏ´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù.

So that what I say may not seem unsubstantiated, I will cite at least a few examples here of French poets who are in the forefront of this movement. The name of these poets is legion.

±×·¯¹Ç·Î ³»°¡ ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ±Ù°Å°¡ ¾ø´Â °Íó·³ º¸ÀÌÁö ¾Êµµ·Ï, ¿©±â¿¡ ÀÌ·± ¿òÁ÷ÀÓÀÇ Àü¹æ¿¡ ÀÖ´Â ÇÁ¶û½º ½ÃÀεéÀÇ Àû¾îµµ ¸î ¿¹µéÀ» ÀοëÇÒ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌµé ½ÃÀεéÀÇ À̸§Àº ¹«¼öÇÏ´Ù.

I have chosen the new French writers, because they express the new trend in art more clearly, and the majority of Europeans imitate them.

³ª´Â ÇÁ¶û½º ½ÅÁø ÀÛ°¡µéÀ» °ñ¶ó º¸¾Ò´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×µéÀº ´õ¿í ¸íÈ®ÇÏ°Ô ¿¹¼úÀÇ »õ·Î¿î °æÇâÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇϸç, À¯·´ÀÎµé ´ëºÎºÐÀÌ ±×µéÀ» ¸ð¹æÇϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

Besides those whose names are already regarded as famous, such as Baudelaire and Verlaine, the following are the names of some of these poets: Jean Moreas, Charles Morice, Henri de Régnier, Charles Vignier, Adrien Romaille, René Ghil, Maurice Maeterlinck, C. Albert Aurier, Remy de Gourmont, Saint-Pol-Roux le Magnifique, Georges Rodenbach, Comte Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac. These are symbolists and decadents. Then come the Magi: Josephin Peladan, Paul Adam, Jules Bois, M. Papus et al. [61]

º¸µé·¹¸£ ¹× º£¸¦·»Ã³·³, À̸§µéÀÌ ÀÌ¹Ì À¯¸íÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©°ÜÁö´Â »ç¶÷µé ¿Ü¿¡, ´ÙÀ½Àº ¸î¸î ÀÌ·± ½ÃÀεéÀÇ À̸§ÀÌ´Ù: Àå ¸ð·¹¾Æ, »þ¸¦ ¸ð¸®½º, ¾Ó¸® µå ·¹´Ï¿¡, »þ¸¦ ºñ´Ï¿¡, ¾Æµå¸®¾Ó ·Î¸¶ÀÌ¿¡, ¸£³× ±æ, ¸ð¸®½º ¸¶Å͸µÅ©, C. ¾Ëº£¸£ ¿À¸®¿¡, ·¹¹Ì µå ±¸¸ù, »óÆú·çÁî ¸¶´ÏÇÇÅ©, ÁÒÁö ·Îµç¹ÙÇÏ, ²ÇÆ® ·Îº£¸£ µå ¸ùÅ×½ºÅ°¿Ü ÆäÁ¨»ç. À̵éÀº »ó¡ÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀÌÀÚ µ¥Ä«´çÆÄµéÀÌ´Ù. ´ÙÀ½À¸·Î ¸¶¹ýÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀÌ´Ù: Á¶¼¼ÇÉ Æç¶ó´ç,  Æú ¾Æ´ã, ÁÙ¸£ ºÁ, M. ÆÄÇÇ µî.

Besides these, there are one hundred and forty-one more writers enumerated by Doumic in his book.

ÀÌµé ¿Ü¿¡µµ, µÎ¹Ì°¡ ±×ÀÇ Ã¥¿¡¼­ ¿­°ÅÇÏ´Â 141 ¿©¸íÀÇ ÀÛ°¡µéÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù.

Here are samples from those considered the best among these poets. I begin with the most famous, recognized as a great man deserving of a monument — Baudelaire. This, for instance, is a poem from his famous Fleurs du Mal:

¿©±â ÀÌµé ½ÃÀεé Áß¿¡¼­ ÃÖ°í¶ó°í ¿©°ÜÁö´Â »ç¶÷µé¿¡ °¡Á®¿Â ¿¹µéÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù. ±â³äºñÀûÀÎ À§´ëÇÑ Àι°·Î ÀÎÁ¤µÇ´Â °¡Àå À¯¸íÇÑ »ç¶÷ º¸µé·¹¸£ ºÎÅÍ ½ÃÀÛÇϰڴÙ. À̰ÍÀº, ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ±×ÀÇ À¯¸íÇÑ Fleurs du Mal¿¡¼­ °¡Á®¿Â ½ÃÀÌ´Ù.

Je t¡¯adore a l¡¯egal de la voute nocturne,

O vase de tristesse, ô grande taciturne,

Et t¡¯aime d¡¯autant plus, belle, que tu me fuis,

Et que tu me parais, ornement de mes nuits,

Plus ironiquement accumuler les lieues

Qui séparent mes bras des immensités bleues.

¡¡

Je m¡¯avance à l¡¯attaque, et jegrimpe aux assauts,

Comme apres un cadavre unchoeur de vermisseaux,

Et je chéris, ô bête implacable et cruelle!

Jusqu¡¯à cette froideur par où tu m¡¯es plus belle! [62]

¿À Å©°í Á¶¿ëÇÑ ½½ÇÄÀÇ ²Éº´ÀÌ¿©

³ª´Â ±×´ë¸¦ ÇÑ ¹ãÀÇ Ã¢°øÃ³·³ ¼þ¹èÇϸç,

³ªÀÇ ¹ÌÀÎÀÌ¿© ±×´ë°¡ ³ª¸¦ ¸Ö¸®Çϰí,

±×´ë°¡ ³ªÀÇ ¹ãµéÀÇ Àå½Äó·³ º¸À̰í,

³ªÀÇ ÆÈ µéÀ» Ǫ¸¥ ½É¿¬µé¿¡¼­ ¶¼¾î ³õ´Â

°Å¸®¸¦ ´õ¿í ¾â±Ä°Ô ´Ã¿©¸¸ °¡µµ

´õ¿í ±×´ë¸¦ »ç¶û Çϳë¶ó.

¡¡

¸¶Ä¡ ½Ãü¿¡ ´Þ·Áµå´Â ÇÑ ¹«¸®ÀÇ Áö··À̵éó·³,

³ª´Â °ø°ÝÀÚ¿¡ ´Ù°¡°¡, ÆøÇàÀÚ¸¦ ±â¾î ¿À¸¥´Ù,

±×´ë¸¦ ³»°Ô ´õ ¾Æ¸§´ä°Ô ÇÏ´Â Â÷°¡¿òÀ»,

³ª´Â ´Þ·¤ ¼ö ¾øÀÌ ÀÜÀÎÇÑ Áü½ÂÀ» »ç¶ûÇÑ´Ù.

¡¡ ¡¡

Here is another by the same Baudelaire:

º¸µé·¹¸£ÀÇ ´Ù¸¥ ¿¹¸¦ º¸ÀÚ:
¡¡ ¡¡

DUELLUM

¡¡

Deux guerriers ont couru l¡¯un sur l¡¯autre; leurs armes

Ont éclaboussé l¡¯air de lueurs et de sang.

Cesjeux, ces cliquetis du fer sont les vacarmes

D¡¯unejeunesse en proie àl¡¯amour vagissant.

¡¡

Les glaives sont brisés! comme notrejeunesse,

Ma chère! Mais les dents, les ongles acérés,

Vengent bientot l¡¯épée et la dague traitresse.

— O fureur des coeurs murs par l¡¯amour ulcérés!

¡¡

Dans Ie ravin hanté des chats-pards et des onces

Nos héros, s¡¯étreignant méchamment, ont roulé,

Et leur peau fleurira l¡¯aridité des ronces.

¡¡

— Ce gouffre, c¡¯est l¡¯enfer, de nos amis peuplé!

Roulons-y sans remords, amazone inhumaine,

Afin d¡¯éterniser l¡¯ardeur de notre haine! [63]

°áÅõ

¡¡

µÎ Àü»ç°¡ ¼­·Î¿¡°Ô ´Þ·Á µé¾ú´Ù; ±×µéÀÇ ¹«±âµéÀº

Çϴÿ¡ ¼¶±¤°ú ÇǸ¦ Æ¢°å´Ù.

ÀÌ ½ÃÇÕµé, ÀÌ ¼íµ¢ÀÌÀÇ ºÎµúÈûÀº

¿ï¾î´ë´Â »ç¶ûÀÇ Á¦¹°ÀÌ µÈ ÀþÀ½ÀÇ ¼ÒÀ½ÀÌ´Ù.

¡¡

³¯µéÀÌ ºÎ·¯Á³´Ù! ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ÀþÀ½Ã³·³,
ÀÌ·±! ±×·¯³ª ÀÌ»¡, °­Ã¶°°Àº ¼ÕÅéµéÀº,
°ð Ä®°ú ³¯À» ¼¼¿î ºñ¼ö¿¡ º¸º¹ÇÑ´Ù.

— ¿À, »ç¶ûÀ¸·Î ºÎÆÐµÈ ¼º¼÷ÇÑ ¸¶À½µéÀÇ ºÐ³ë¿©!

¡¡

»ìÄéÀ̵é°ú Ç¥¹üµé¿¡°Ô Âѱâ¾î °ñÂ¥±â ¾ÈÀ¸·Î,

¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¿µ¿õµéÀº, »ç¾ÇÇÏ°Ô ¸öÀ» °¨°í ±¼·¶°í,

±×µéÀÇ »ì°¯Àº ½Ã¸° °ËÀº µþ±â°¡ ÇÇ°Ô ÇÑ´Ù.

¡¡

— ±× ±¸µ¢ÀÌ´Â Áö¿Á, ¿ì¸® Ä£±¸µéÀÌ ¿ì±Û°Å¸°´Ù!

¿ì¸® Áõ¿ÀÀÇ Çâ±â°¡ ¿µ¿øÇϵµ·Ï,

±×°÷¿¡ ÈÄȸ ¾øÀÌ ±¸¸£ÀÚ, ¹«ÀÚºñÇÑ ¾Æ¸¶Á¸!

¡¡ ¡¡

To be precise, I must say that there are less incomprehensible poems in the collection, but there is not one that is simple and can be understood without some effort — an effort seldom rewarded, because the feelings conveyed by the poet are not good ones, and are quite base.

Á¤È®È÷ ¸»ÇÏÀÚ¸é, ¼±Á¤µÈ  ½Ãµé Áß¿¡´Â ´ú ³­ÇØÇÑ °ÍÀº ¾øÁö¸¸, ´Ü¼øÇÏ¸ç ¾à°£ÀÇ ³ë·Â — °ÅÀÇ º¸»ó ¹ÞÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â ³ë·Â —  ¾øÀÌ ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀº Çϳªµµ ¾øÀ½À» Ʋ¸²¾øÀÌ ¸»ÇϰíÀÚ ÇÑ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ½ÃÀο¡ ÀÇÇØ Àü´ÞµÇ´Â ´À³¦µéÀº ¼±ÇÑ °ÍµéÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¸ç, ³Ê¹«³ª õÇϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

And these feelings are always expressed with deliberate originality and absurdity. This intentional obscurity is particularly noticeable in prose, where the author could speak simply if he wished to.

±×¸®°í ÀÌ·± ´À³¦µéÀº ¾ðÁ¦³ª ÀǵµÀû µ¶Ã¢·Â°ú ¸ð¼øÀ¸·Î Ç¥ÇöµÈ´Ù. ÀÌ·± °íÀÇÀû ¾Ö¸ÅÇÔÀº ƯÈ÷ »ê¹®¿¡¼­ µÎµå·¯Áö´Âµ¥, ¿©±â¼­ ÀÛ°¡´Â ´Ü¼øÈ÷ ¸»ÇϰíÀÚ ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ¸»ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù.

Here is an example from his Petits poèmes en prose. The first piece is L¡¯Ètranger.

¿©±â¿¡ º¸µé·¹¸£ÀÇ Petits poèmes en prose¿¡¼­ °¡Á®¿Â ¿¹°¡ ÀÖ´Ù. ù ´ÜÆíÀº L¡¯ÈtrangerÀÌ´Ù.

Qui aimes-tu le mieux, homme énigmatique, dis? ton père, ta mère, ta soeur ou ton frère?

—Je n¡¯ai ni père, ni mère, hi soeur, ni frère.

—Tes amis?

—Vous vous servez là d¡¯une parole dont le sens m¡¯est resté jusqu¡¯a cejour inconnu.

—Ta patrie?

—J¡¯ignore sous quelle latitude elle est située.

—La beauté?

—Je l¡¯aimerais volontiers, déesse et imortelle.

—L¡¯or?

—Je Ie hais comme vous haïssez Dieu.

—Eh! qu¡¯aimes-tu done, extraordinaire étranger?

—J¡¯aime les nuages ,. . les images qui passent . . . là-bas . . . là-bas ... les merveilleux nuages! [64]

±×´ë´Â ´©±¸¸¦ °¡Àå »ç¶ûÇϴ°¡, ¾Ë ¼ö ¾ø´Â »ç¶÷ÀÌ¿©, ³ª¿¡°Ô ¸»ÇØ ´Þ¶ó: ±×´ëÀÇ ¾Æ¹öÁö, ±×´ëÀÇ ¾î¸Ó´Ï, ±×´ëÀÇ ´©ÀÌ, ȤÀº ±×´ëÀÇ ÇüÁ¦´Â?

³ª´Â ¾Æ¹öÁö, ¾î¸Ó´Ï, ´©ÀÌ, ȤÀº ÇüÁ¦µµ ¾ø´Ù.

±×´ëÀÇ Ä£±¸µéÀº?

±×·¡¼­ ±×´ë´Â À̳¯±îÁö ³»°Ô ¾Ë·ÁÁöÁö ¾ÊÀº Àǹ̸¦ Áö´Ñ ´Ü¾î¸¦ »ç¿ëÇϴ±º.

±×´ëÀÇ Á¶±¹Àº?

³ª´Â ±×°ÍÀÌ ¾î´À À§µµ¿¡ ÀÖ´ÂÁö ¸ð¸¥´Ù.

¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº?

³ª´Â ±â²¨ÀÌ ±×°Í, ¿©½Å ±×¸®°í ºÒ¸êÀ» »ç¶ûÇϰڴÙ.

Ȳ±ÝÀº?

³ª´Â ´ç½ÅÀÌ ½ÅÀ» Áõ¿ÀÇϵí Áõ¿ÀÇÑ´Ù.

'±×·³, ±«»óÇÑ À̹æÀÎÀÌ¿© ±×´ë´Â ¹«¾ùÀ» »ç¶ûÇϴ°¡?

³ª´Â ±¸¸§µéÀ» ... ½ºÄ¡´Â ±¸¸§µéÀ»... Àú±â ... Àú±â... ³î¶ó¿î ±¸¸§µéÀ» »ç¶ûÇÑ´Ù!

The piece entitled La soupe et les,nuages probably portrays the poet being misunderstood even by the woman he loves. Here is this piece:

La soupe et les,nuagesÀ̶õ Á¦¸ñÀÇ ¼ÒǰÀº ¾Æ¸¶µµ ½ÉÁö¾î ±×°¡ »ç¶ûÇÏ´Â ¿©ÀÚ¿¡°Ôµµ ¿ÀÇØ ¹Þ°í ÀÖ´Â ½ÃÀÎÀ» ¹¦»çÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ ´ÜÆíÀ» º¸ÀÚ:

Ma petite folle bien-aimée me donnait à dîner, et par la fenêtre ouverte de la salle à manger, je contemplais les mouvantes architectures que Dieu fait avec les vapeurs, les merveilleuses constructions de l¡¯impalpable. Et je me disais, à travers ma contemplation: Toutes ces fantasmagories sont presque aussi belles que les yeux de ma belle bien-aimée, la petite folle monstrueuse aux yeux verts.¡¯

³ªÀÇ ¹Ùº¸ °°Àº ÀÛÀº ¾ÖÀÎÀº ³»°Ô Àú³áÀ» ÁÖ°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù, ±×¸®°í °Å½ÇÀÇ ¿­¸° âÀ» ÅëÇØ ³ª´Â ½ÅÀÌ ¼öÁõ±â·Î ¸¸µå´Â ¿òÁ÷ÀÌ´Â Á¶Çü¹°µéÀ», ¸¸Áú ¼ö ¾ø´Â ³î¶ó¿î ±¸Á¶¹°µéÀ», °¨»óÇϰí ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×¸®°í ³ª´Â °¨»óÇϸ鼭 »ý°¢Çß´Ù: 'ÀÌ ¸ðµç ÁÖ¸¶µîÀº °ÅÀÇ ±«¹°°°ÀÌ ÀÛÀº ³ì»ö ´«À» °¡Áø ¹Ùº¸ÀÎ ³ªÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ¾ÖÀÎÀÇ ´«Ã³·³ ¾Æ¸§´ä±¸³ª.'

Et tout à coup je reçus un violent coup de poing dans le dos, et j¡¯entendis une voix rauque et charmante, une voix hystérique et comme enrouee par l¡¯eau-de-vie, la voix de ma chère petite bien-aimée, qui disait: ¡®Allez-vous bientot manger votre soupe, s . . . b . . . de marchand de nuages?¡¯ [65]

±×¸®°í °©Àڱ⠳ª´Â  µî¿¡ °­ÇÑ ÁÖ¸ÔÀ» ¸Â¾Ò´Ù, ±×¸®°í ³ª´Â,  ¸¶Ä¡ ¼úÀ» ¸¶¼Å ½® °Íó·³, ½¬°í ¸Å·ÂÀûÀÎ ¸ñ¼Ò¸®, È÷½ºÅ׸¯ÇÑ ¸ñ¼Ò¸®, ³ªÀÇ ÀÛÀº ¾ÖÀÎÀÇ ¸ñ¼Ò¸®¸¦ µé¾ú´Âµ¥, ÀÌ·¸°Ô ¸»Çß´Ù: '¸çÄ¥ ÀÖ´Ù ½ºÇÁ¸¦ µå½Ç °Ç°¡¿ä ¤¡——— ¤¸——— ±¸¸§Àå¼ö¾¾?

However artificial this work is, with some effort one can guess what the author wished to say, but there are pieces that are entirely incomprehensible, to me at least.

ÀÌ ÀÛǰÀÌ ¾Æ¹«¸® ÀÎÀ§ÀûÀ̶ó ÇÒÁö¶óµµ, Á¶±Ý¸¸ ³ë·ÂÇÑ´Ù¸é ÀÛ°¡°¡ ¸»ÇÏ°í ½Í¾î ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ÁüÀÛÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù, ±×·¯³ª Àû¾îµµ ³»°Ô ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ´ÜÆíµéÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù.

Here, for instance, is Le Galant tireur, the meaning of which I entirely fail to grasp:

¿©±â Le Galant tireur¸¦ ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ³ª´Â ÀÌ ÀÛǰÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î ¾Ë¾Æ ³¾ ¼ö°¡ ¾ø´Ù.

Comme la voiture traversait le bois, il la fit arrêter dans le voisin-age d¡¯un tir, disant qu¡¯il lui serait agréable de tirer quelques balles pour tuer le Temps. Tuer ce monstre-là, n¡¯est-ce pas l¡¯occupation la plus ordinaire et la plus légitime de chacun? — Et il offrit galamment la main à sa chère, délicieuse et exécrable femme, a cette mystérieuse femme a laquelle il doit tant de plaisirs, tant de douleurs, et peut-être aussi une grande partie de son génie.

¸¶Â÷°¡ °ø¿øÀ» °¡·ÎÁö¸£ÀÚ, ±×´Â »ç°ÝÀå ±Ùó¿¡ ¸ØÃßµµ·Ï ÇÏ¿´´Ù, ±×¸®°í ½Ã°£À» ¶§¿ì±â À§ÇØ ¸î ¹æ ½î´Â °ÍÀÌ Áñ°Å¿ï °ÍÀÌ¶ó ¸»Çß´Ù. ±× ±«¹°À» Á×ÀÌ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¿ì¸® °¢ÀÚÀÇ °¡Àå Æò¹üÇϰí ÇÕ¹ýÀûÀÎ Á÷¾÷ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ñ°¡? — ±×¸®°í ±×´Â ±×ÀÇ ¼ÕÀ» ±×ÀÇ »ç¶û½º·´°í, Çâ±ßÇϸç ÇüÆí¾ø´Â ¾Æ³»¿¡°Ô, ±×¿¡°Ô ±×Åä·Ï ¸¹Àº Äè¶ôµéÀ», ±×Åä·Ï ¸¹Àº °íÅëµéÀ», ±×¸®°í ¿ª½Ã ¾Æ¸¶µµ ±×ÀÇ ÃµÀ缺ÀÇ Å« ºÎºÐÀ» ÁÖ´Â ±×Åä·Ï ½ÅºñÇÑ ¾Æ³»¿¡°Ô ³»¹Ð¾ú´Ù

Plusieurs balles frappèrent loin du but proposé; l¡¯une d¡¯elles s¡¯enfonça même dans le plafond; et comme la charmante créature riait follement, se moquant de la maladresse de son époux, celui-ci se tourna brusquement vers elle, et lui dit: ¡®Observe? cette poupée, là-bas, à droite, qui porte le nez en l¡¯air et qui a la mine si hautaine. Eh bien! cher ange, je me figure que c¡¯est vous.¡¯ Et il ferma les yeux et il lâcha la détente. La poupée fut nettement decapitée.

Alors s¡¯inclinant vers sa chère, sa délicieuse, son exécrable femme, son inévitable et impitoyable Muse, et lui baisant respectueusement la main, il ajouta: ¡®Ah, mon cher ange, combienje vous remercie de mon adresse!¡¯ [66]

¸î ¹ßÀº °ú³á¿¡¼­ ¹þ¾î³µ´Ù; ÇÑ ¹ßÀº ½ÉÁö¾î õÀå¿¡ ¹ÚÇû´Ù; ±×¸®°í ¸Å·ÂÀûÀÎ ¿©ÀÚ´Â ±ò±ò°Å¸®¸ç ¿ô¾ú°í, ³²ÆíÀÇ ºÎÁ¤È®ÇÔÀ» ³î·È´Ù, ÈÄÀÚ´Â ´À´å¾øÀÌ ±×³à¿¡°Ô µ¹¾Æ¼­¼­ ¸»Çß´Ù: 'Àú±â ¿À¸¥ÂÊ¿¡ ÀÖ´Â ÀÎÇü, ÄÚ¸¦ Çϴ÷Π³»¹Ð°í °Å¸¸ÇÑ ¸ð½ÀÀ» Çϰí ÀÖ´Â °Ô º¸¿©? ±Û½ê, ³» ÀÛÀº õ»ç¾ß, ³ª´Â ±×°Ô ³Ê¶ó°í ¿©±æ ÀÛÁ¤À̾ß.' ±×¸®°í ±×´Â ´«À» °¨°í¼­ ¹æ¾Æ¼è¸¦ ´ç°å´Ù. ÀÎÇüÀº ±ú²ýÀÌ ¸Ó¸®°¡ ³¯¾Æ°¬´Ù.

±×¸®°í ³ª¼­ ±×ÀÇ »ç¶û½º·´°í, ±×ÀÇ Çâ±ßÇϸç, ±×ÀÇ ÇüÆí¾ø´Â ¾Æ³», ±×ÀÇ ÇÇÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø°í ÀÎÁ¤ ¾ø´Â ¹ÂÁî¿¡°Ô ´Ù°¡°¡¼­, ±×³àÀÇ ¼Õ¿¡ Á¤ÁßÇÏ°Ô ÀÔ¸ÂÃß¾ú´Ù. ±×´Â ¸»À» À̾ú´Ù: '¿À, ³ªÀÇ »ç¶ûÇϴ õ»ç¿©, ³ªÀÇ Á¤È®ÇÔ¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¾î¶»°Ô ´ç½Å¿¡°Ô °í¸¿´Ù°í ÇÒ±î!'.

The works of Verlaine, another celebrity, are no less fanciful and no less incomprehensible. Here, for instance, is the first of his Ariettes oubliées:

´Ù¸¥ ¸í»çÀÎ º£¸£·»ÀÇ ÀÛǰµéÀº, ´ú ºñÇö½ÇÀûµµ ¾Æ´Ï¸ç ´ú ÀÌÇØ ºÒ°¡´ÉÇÑ °Íµµ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. ¿©±â¿¡ ±×ÀÇ ÀÛǰ ÀØÇôÁø ÀÛÀº ¾Æ¸®¾Æ(Ariettes oubliées)ÀÇ Ã¹ ºÎºÐÀ» ¿¹·Î µé°Ú´Ù:

Le vent dans la plaine

Suspend son haleine. — Favart

¡¡

C¡¯est l¡¯extase langoureuse,

C¡¯est la fatigue amoureuse,

C¡¯est tous les frissons des bois

Parmi l¡¯étreinte des brises,

C¡¯est vers les ramures grises

Le choeur des petites voix.

¡¡

O le frele et frais murmure!

Cela gazouille et susure,

Cela ressemble au cri doux

Que l¡¯herbe agitée expire . . .

Tu dirais, sous l¡¯eau qui vire,

Le roulis sourd de cailloux.

¡¡

Cette âme qui se lamente

En cette plainte dormante,

C¡¯est la nôtre, n¡¯est-ce pas?

La mienne, dis, et la tienne,

Dont s¡¯exhale l¡¯humble antienne

Par ce tiède soir, tout bas. [67]

Æò¿øÀÇ ¹Ù¶÷ÀÌ

±× ¼ûÀ» ¸ØÃß´Ù. — ÆÄ¹ÙÆ®

¡¡

±×°Ç ³ª¸¥ÇÑ È²È¦°æ,

±×°Ç ¾ÖÁ¤ÀÇ ÇÇ·Î,

±×°Ç ³ª¹«µéÀÇ ¸ðµç ¶³¸²

ȸ»ö ºû °¡Áöµé ±Ùó¿¡,

±×°Ç »êµé¹Ù¶÷ÀÇ Æ÷¿Ë ¼Ó¿¡,

ÀÛÀº ¸ñ¼Ò¸®µéÀÇ ÇÕâÀÌ´Ù.

¡¡

¿À, ¿¬¾àÇÏ°í ½Å¼±ÇÑ ¹°¼Ò¸®!

Á¹Á¹Á¹ ÀßÀßÀß,

±×°Ç Èçµé¸®´Â Àܵ𰡠³»½¬´Â...

¸¶Ä¡ ºÎµå·¯¿î ¿Üħ °°´Ù

´ç½ÅÀº ±ÁÀÌÄ¡´Â ¹° ¹Ø ÀÚ°¥µéÀÌ

¹«°Ì°Ô ±¸¸¥´Ù°í ¸»ÇϰÚÁö.

¡¡

ÀÌó·³ Á¹¸®¿î ¾Öµµ ¼Ó¿¡

¾ÖÅëÇØ ÇÏ´Â ¿µÈ¥Àº

±×°Ç ¿ì¸® °ÍÀÌÁö, ±×·¸Áö?

±×·¡, ³ªÀÇ °Í ±×¸®°í ³ÊÀÇ °Í,

ÀÌ ¿ÂÈ­ÇÑ ¹ã¿¡, ³»½¬´Â

ºÎµå·¯¿î ÇÕâ.

What is this ch©«ur des petites voix, and this cri doux que l¡¯herbe agitée expire? And what is the meaning of the whole thing? For me it remains entirely incomprehensible. Here is another ariette:

ÀÌ ÀÛÀº ¸ñ¼Ò¸®ÀÇ ÇÕâ(ch©«ur des petites voix) ¿Í ÀÌ ºÎµå·¯¿î Àܵ𰡠³»½¬´Â ºÎµå·¯¿î ¿Üħ(cri doux que l¡¯herbe agitée expire)ÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡? Àüü ÀÛǰÀÇ Àǹ̴ ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡? ³»°Ô´Â ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¿©±â ´Ù¸¥ ¾Æ¸®¿¡Å¸°¡ ÀÖ´Ù.

Dans l¡¯interminable

Ennui de la plaine

La neige incertaine

Luit comme du sable.

Æò¿øÀÇ ³¡¾ø´Â

Áö·çÇÔ ¼Ó¿¡

È帴ÇÑ ´«ÀÌ

¸ð·¡Ã³·³ ºû³­´Ù.

Le ciel est de cuivre

Sans lueur aucune,

On croirait voir vivre

Et mourir la lune.

ÇÏ´ÃÀº Ȳµ¿À̸ç

¹Ý¦ÀÓµµ ¾ø´Ù

´ç½ÅÀº ÁöÄѺ»´Ù »ý°¢Çϸ®

´ÞÀÌ ³ª¼­ Á״´ٰí.

Comme des nuées

Flotte gris les chênes

Des forêts prochaines

Parmi les buées.

±¸¸§ÀÌ È¸»öÀ¸·Î ²ÞƲ°Å¸®µí

±Ùó ½£µé ¾È¿¡

¾È°³µé »çÀÌ¿¡¼­

Âü³ª¹«µéÀÌ ¶°µ·´Ù.

Le ciel est de cuivre

Sans lueur aucune.

On croirait voir vivre

Et mourir la lune.

ÇÏ´ÃÀº Ȳµ¿À̸ç

¹Ý¦ÀÓµµ ¾ø´Ù

´ç½ÅÀº ÁöÄѺ»´Ù »ý°¢Çϸ®

´ÞÀÌ ³ª¼­ Á״´ٰí.

Corneille poussive

Et vous les loups maigres,

Par ces bises aigres

Quoi done vous arrive?

±î¿Á°Å¸®´Â ±î¸¶±Í

±×¸®°í ³ÊÈñ ¾Ó»óÇÑ ´Á´ëµé,

ÀÌó·³ ¿¡ÀÌ´Â ¹Ù¶÷¿¡

³ÊÈñ¿¡°Ô ¹«½¼ ÀÏÀΰ¡?

Dans l¡¯interminable

Ennui de la plaine,

La neige incertaine

Luit comme du sable. [68]

Æò¿øÀÇ ³¡¾ø´Â

Áö·çÇÔ ¼Ó¿¡

È帴ÇÑ ´«ÀÌ

¸ð·¡Ã³·³ ºû³­´Ù.

How is it that the moon lives and dies in a sky of brass, and how is it that snow shines like sand? All this is not only incomprehensible, but, under the pretext of conveying a mood, is a series of false comparisons and words.

¾î¶»°Ô Ȳµ¿ Çϴÿ¡ ´ÞÀÌ »ì°í Á״°¡, ±×¸®°í ¾î¶»°Ô ´«ÀÌ ¸ð·¡Ã³·³ ºû³ª´Â°¡? ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ÍÀº ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾øÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±âºÐÀ» Àü´ÞÇÑ´Ù´Â ±¸½Ç·Î, À߸øµÈ ºñ±³µé ¹× ´Ü¾îµéÀÇ ³ª¿­ÀÌ´Ù.

Besides these artificial and obscure poems, there are others which are intelligible but quite bad both in forrn and content. Such are all the poems entitled La Sagesse. The greatest place in these poems is taken up by very bad manifestations of the most banal Catholic and patriotic feelings. There are, for instance, such stanzas as this:

À̵é ÀÎÀ§ÀûÀÌ¸ç ¾Ö¸ÅÇÑ ½Ãµé ¿Ü¿¡µµ, ÁöÀûÀÌÁö¸¸ Çü½Ä ¹× ³»¿ë¿¡¼­ ¸Å¿ì ³ª»Û °ÍµéÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù. ÁöÇý(La Sagesse)¶ó´Â Á¦¸ñÀÇ ¸ðµç ½Ãµéµµ ±×·¯ÇÏ´Ù. ÀÌ ½Ãµé¿¡¼­ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ÀÚ¸®´Â °¡Àå ÁøºÎÇÑ Ä«Å縯 ¹× ¾Ö±¹Àû ´À³¦µé¿¡ °üÇÑ ¸Å¿ì ³ª»Û Ç¥ÇöµéÀÌ Â÷ÁöÇÑ´Ù.

Je ne veux plus penser qu¡¯a ma mère Marie,
Siège de la sagesse et source de pardons,
Mere de France aussi de qui nous attendons
Inébranlablement l
¡¯honneur de la patrie. [69]

ÁöÇý°¡ ¸Ó¹«´Â °÷ ±×¸®°í ¿ë¼­ÀÇ ¿øÃµ,

³ª´Â ÀÌÁ¦ ³ªÀÇ ¾î¸Ó´Ï ¸¶¸®¾Æ ¸¸À»,

Èçµé¸² ¾øÀÌ Á¶±¹ÀÇ ¿µ±¤À»  ±â´ëÇÏ´Â

¶ÇÇÑ ÇÁ¶û½ºÀÇ ¾î¸Ó´Ï¸¦  »ý°¢ÇϷôÙ.

Before giving examples from other poets, I cannot help dwelling upon the remarkable celebrity of these two versifiers, Baudelaire and Verlaine, now recognized as great poets. How could the French, who had Chénier, Musset, Lamartine and, above all, Victor Hugo, who still recently had the so-called Parnassians: Leconte de Lisle, Sully-Prudhomme, et al., ascribe such significance to these two versifiers and consider them great, when they are so unskilful in form and quite base and banal in content? One of them, Baudelaire, had a world outlook that consisted of crude egoism erected into a theory and the supplanting of morality by the concept of beauty, indefinite as the clouds and invariably artificial. Baudelaire preferred a woman¡¯s face painted rather than natural, and metal trees and a mineral simulacrum of water to the real things.

´Ù¸¥ ½ÃÀεéÀÇ ¿¹µéÀ» º¸¿© ÁÖ±â Àü¿¡, ¹ü»óÄ¡ ¾ÊÀº À¯¸í½Å»çÀ̸ç, ÀÌÁ¦ À§´ëÇÑ ½ÃÀεé·Î ÀÎÁ¤µÇ´Â, ÀÌ µÎ ½ÃÀεé, º¸µé·¹¸£ ¹× º£¸¦·»À» °õ°õÀÌ »ý°¢ÇØ º¸Áö ¾ÊÀ» ¼ö ¾ø´Ù. ¾îÂîÇÏ¿© ½¦´Ï¿¡, ¹¿¼¼, ¶ó¸¶¸£Æ¾ ±×¸®°í ¹«¾ùº¸´Ù ºòÅ丣 À§°í¸¦ ¹èÃâÇÑ, ¾ÆÁÖ ÃÖ±Ù¿¡ ¼ÒÀ§ °í´äÆÄ ½ÃÀÎµé — ¸£²ÇÅ× ¸®½½, ½¯¸® ÇÁ·òµ¼ µî — À» ¹èÃâÇÑ ÇÁ¶û½ºÀεéÀÌ, ÀÌ µÎ ½ÃÀεéÀÌ ±×Åä·Ï Çü½Ä¿¡ ¹Ì¼÷ÇÏ°í ³»¿ëÀûÀ¸·Î ³Ê¹«³ª õÇϰí ÁøºÎÇÔ¿¡µµ,  ±×·¯ÇÑ Àǹ̸¦ ºÎ¿©ÇÏ°í ±×µéÀ» À§´ëÇÏ´Ù°í ¿©±â´Â °ÍÀΰ¡?  ±×µé ÁßÀÇ ÇÑ »ç¶÷, º¸µé·¹¸£´Â õ¹ÚÇÑ À̱âÁÖÀÇ·Î ±¸¼ºµÈ ¼¼°è°üÀ» ÀÌ·ÐÈ­ÇÏ¿©, ±¸¸§µéó·³ ¸ðÈ£ÇÏ°í º¯ÇÔ¾øÀÌ ÀÎÀ§ÀûÀÎ, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ̶ó´Â °³³äÀ¸·Î µµ´ö¼ºÀ» ´ëüÇÏ¿´´Ù. º¸µé·¹¸£´Â ÀÚ¿¬º¸´Ù Ä¥ÇØÁø ¿©¼ºÀÇ ¾ó±¼À», »ç½ÇÀûÀÎ °Í º¸´Ù ±Ý¼Ó ³ª¹«µé ¹× À¯»ç ±¤Ãµ¼ö¸¦ ´õ ¼±È£ÇÏ¿´´Ù.

The world outlook of the other poet, Verlaine, consists of flabby licentiousness, the confession of his own moral impotence, and, as salvation from this impotence, the crudest Catholic idolatry. For all that, they are both not only totally devoid of naïvety, sincerity and simplicity, but are filled with artificiality, forced originality and self-conceit. So that in the least bad of their works one sees more of Messrs Baudelaire and Verlaine than of what they are portraying. And these two bad versifiers form a school and lead hundreds of followers after them.

¶Ç ÇϳªÀÇ ½ÃÀÎ º£¸¦·»ÀÇ ¼¼°è°üÀº ³ªÅÂÇÑ ¹æÁ¾, ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ µµ´öÀû ºÒ´ÉÀÇ °í¹é, ±×¸®°í, À̸¥ ºÒ´ÉÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍÀÇ ±¸¿øÀ¸·Î¼­ õ¹ÚÇÑ Ä«Å縯ÀÇ ¿ì»ó ¼þ¹è·Î ±¸¼ºµÇ¾î ÀÖ´Ù. ±×·¯ÇÔ¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí, ±×°ÍµéÀº ¼ø¹ÚÇÔ, ¼º½Ç¼º ¹× ¼Ò¹ÚÇÔÀÌ ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î °á¿©µÇ¾î ÀÖÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ÀÎÀ§¼º, °­¾ÐÀûÀÎ µ¶Ã¢¼º ¹× Àڱ⠱⸸À¸·Î °¡µæ Â÷ ÀÖ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ±×µé ÀÛǰµé Áß °¡Àå Á¶±Ý ³ª»Û °Í¿¡¼­µµ ±×µéÀÌ ¹¦»çÇϰí ÀÖ´Â °Íº¸´Ù ´õÇÑ º¸µé·¹¸£³ª º£¸¦·» °°Àº ½ÃÀεéÀ» ¸¸³ª°Ô µÈ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÀÌµé µÎ »ç¶÷ÀÇ ³ª»Û ½ÃÀεéÀº ÇϳªÀÇ ÇÐÆÄ¸¦ ÀÌ·ç¸ç ±×µé µÚ·Î ¼ö¹éÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµéÀ» °Å´À¸°´Ù.

There is only one explanation of this phenomenon: that art for the society in which these two versifiers are active is not a serious, important matter of life, but is merely an amusement. And any amusement becomes boring with repetition. In order to make the boring amusement possible again, it must be renewed in some way: when Boston gets boring, whist is invented; when whist gets boring, preference is invented; when preference gets boring, some other new thing is invented, and so on. The essence of the matter remains the same, only the forms change. So it is with this art: its content, becoming more and more limited, finally reaches the point where artists of the exclusive classes think that everything has already been said, and it is no longer possible to say anything new. And so, to renew this art, they seek new forms.

ÀÌ·± Çö»ó¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¿ÀÁ÷ ÇѰ¡Áö ¼³¸íÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù: Áï, ÀÌµé µÎ ½ÃÀεéÀÌ È°µ¿ÇÏ´Â »çȸÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº »î¿¡ À־ ÁøÁöÇϰųª Áß¿äÇÑ ¹®Á¦°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ´Ü¼øÈ÷ ¿À¶ôÀÏ »ÓÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¾î¶² ¿À¶ôÀÌ¶óµµ ¹Ýº¹µÈ´Ù¸é Áö·çÇØ Áø´Ù. Áö·çÇÑ ¿À¶ôÀÌ ´Ù½Ã °¡´ÉÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖµµ·Ï ÇÏ·Á¸é, ¾î·µç ¹Ýµå½Ã »õ·Î¿ö Á®¾ß ÇÑ´Ù: º¸½ºÅæÀÌ Áö·çÇØÁö¸é, À§½ºÆ®°¡ °í¾ÈµÈ´Ù; À§½ºÆ®°¡ Áö·çÇØÁö¸é ÇÁ·¹ÆÛ·±½º°¡ °í¾ÈµÈ´Ù; ÇÁ·¹ÆÛ·±½º°¡ Áö·çÇØÁö¸é, ´Ù¸¥ ¾î¶² »õ·Î¿î °ÍÀÌ °í¾ÈµÈ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ¶Ç... ¹®Á¦ÀÇ º»ÁúÀº µ¿ÀÏÇÏ´Ù, ¿ÀÁ÷ Çü½Äµé¸¸ º¯ÇÒ »ÓÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ·± ¿¹¼úµµ ±×·¸´Ù: ±× ³»¿ëÀÌ, Á¡Á¡ ´õ ÇѰ迡 À̸£·¯¼­, ¸¶Ä§³» ¹èŸÀû °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀÌ ÀÌ¹Ì ¸ðµç °ÍµéÀÌ ´Ù °Å·ÐµÇ¾ú´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÏ´Â Áö°æ¿¡ À̸£¸ç, ¾î¶² »õ·Î¿î °ÍÀ» ¾ð±ÞÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ´õ ÀÌ»ó °¡´ÉÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Ù. ±×·¡¼­, ÀÌ·± ¿¹¼úÀ» »õ·Ó°Ô Çϱâ À§Çؼ­, ±×µéÀº »õ·Î¿î Çü½ÄµéÀ» Ãß±¸ÇÑ´Ù.

Baudelaire and Verlaine, while inventing a new form, have also enhanced it with previously unused pornographic details. And the critics and public recognize them as great writers.

º¸µé·¹¸£¿Í º£¸£·»Àº, »õ·Î¿î Çü½ÄÀ» °í¾ÈÇÏ´Â ÇÑÆí, ÀÌÀü¿¡ »ç¿ëµÇÁö ¾ÊÀº ¿Ü¼³Àû ¹¦»çµé·Î ±×°ÍÀ» È®ÀåÇß´Ù. ±×¸®°í ºñÆò°¡µé°ú ´ëÁßµéÀº ±×µéÀ» À§´ëÇÑ ÀÛ°¡µé·Î ÀÎÁ¤ÇÑ´Ù.

This alone explains the success not only of Baudelaire and Verlaine, but of the entire decadent movement.

´Ü À̰͸¸À¸·Îµµ º¸µé·¹¸£¿Í º£¸¦·» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó Àüü ÅðÆóÁÖÀÇ ¿îµ¿ÀÇ ¼º°øÀÌ ¼³¸íµÈ´Ù.

There are, for instance, poems by Mallarmé and Maeterlinck that have no meaning, and in spite of that, or perhaps because of it, they are published not only in separate editions numbering tens of thousands, but in collections of the best works of the younger poets.

¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ¾Æ¹«·± Àǹ̵µ ¾ø´Â ¸»¶ó¸£¸Þ¿Í ¸¶Å͸µÅ©ÀÇ ½ÃµéÀÌ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±×·³¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí, ȤÀº ±×·± ÀÌÀ¯·Î, ±×°ÍµéÀº ¼ö¸¸¿¡ ´ÞÇÏ´Â ÀμâºÎ¼ö·Î »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, û³â ½ÃÀεé Áß ÃÖ°íÀÇ ÀÛǰÁýµé·Î ÃâÆÇµÇ¾ú´Ù.

Here, for example, is a sonnet by Mallarmé, published in the review Pan (1895, No. I):

¿¹·Î¼­, ¿©±â ¸»¶ó¸£¸ÞÀÇ ¼Ò³×Æ®°¡ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ÀÌ´Â Æò·ÐÁö Pan (1895, No. I)¿¡ ÃâÆÇµÈ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

À la nue accablante tu

Basse de basalte et de laves

À même les êchos esclaves

Par une trompe sans vertu

¿ë¾Ï ±×¸®°í Çö¹«¾Ïó·³
¾ï´©¸£´Â ³·Àº ±¸¸§¿¡ Á¶¿ëÇØÁ³´Ù.
ÁÁÁö ¾ÊÀº Æ®·³ÆêÀÌ ¸¸µå´Â
½ÉÁö¾î µÇÇ®À̵Ǵ ¸Þ¾Æ¸®µé¿¡

Quel sépulcral naufrage (tu

Le sais, écume, mais y baves)

Suprême une entre les épaves

Abolit le mât dévètu

¾î¶² ¹«´ý °°Àº ³­ÆÄ¼±ÀÌ (´ç½Å,
°Å±â ³ë¿¹ ¼±ÀÌ, ±× °ÅǰÀ» ¾È´Ù)
ºÎ¼­Áø °Íµé Áß¿¡ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¹è°¡
¹ú°Å¹þÀº µÀ´ë¸¦ ºÎ¼ø´Ù

Ou cela que furibond faute

De quelque perdition haute

Tout l¡¯abîme vain éployé

ȤÀº ¾î¶² °¡Àå ½ÉÇÑ ÆÄ¸êµµ

¸ðÀÚ¶õ´Ù°í  ºÐ³ëÇÏ´Â À̾߱â

¿ÂÅë ÅÖ ºó ½É¿¬ÀÌ µå·¯³­´Ù.

Dans le si blanc cheveu qui traîne

Avarement aura noyé

Le flanc enfant d¡¯une sirène. [70]

´Ã¾î¶ß¸° ¾ÆÁÖ ÇÏ¾á ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ô¿¡

¾î¶² »çÀÌ·»ÀÇ ¾î¸° ¿·±¸¸®°¡

Ž¿å½º·´°Ô ºüÁ®µé °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

¡¡

¡¡

This poem is not exceptional in its incomprehensibility. I have read several poems by Mallarmé. They are all similarly devoid of meaning.

ÀÌ ½Ã´Â ±× ³­Çؼº¿¡¼­ ¿¹¿ÜÀûÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. ³ª´Â ¸»¶ó¸£¸ÞÀÇ ¿©·¯ ½ÃµéÀ» Àоú´Ù. ±×°ÍµéÀº ¸ðµÎ ºñ½ÁÇÏ°Ô Àǹ̰¡ ¾ø¾ú´Ù.

And here is an example from another famous contemporary poet — three songs by Maeterlinck. This, too, I have taken from Pan (1895, No. 2):

±×¸®°í  ¿©±â µ¿½Ã´ëÀÇ ´Ù¸¥ À¯¸íÇÑ ½ÃÀÎÀÇ °Í — ¸¶Å͸µÅ©ÀÇ ¼¼ °¡Áö °¡»çµé — À» ¿¹·Î µé°Ú´Ù. ÀÌ°Í ¿ª½Ã Pan (1895, No. 2)¿¡¼­ °¡Á®¿Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù:

Quand il est sorti

(J¡¯entendis la porte)

Quand il est sorti

Elle avait souri . . .

±×°¡ ³ª°¬À» ¶§

(³ª´Â ¹®¼Ò¸®¸¦ µé¾ú´Ù)
±×°¡ ³ª°¬À» ¶§

±×³à°¡ ¹Ì¼Ò¸¦ Áö¾ú´Ù...

Mais quand il rentra

(J¡¯entendis la lampe)

Mais quand il rentra

Une autre etait la ...

ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±×°¡ ¿ÔÀ» ¶§

(³ª´Â ºÒ ÄÑ´Â ¼Ò¸®¸¦ µé¾ú´Ù)

ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±×°¡ ¿ÔÀ» ¶§

°Å±â ´Ù¸¥ À̰¡ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù...

Etj¡¯ai vu la mort

(J¡¯entendis son âme)

Et j¡¯ai vu la mort

Qui l¡¯attend encore ...

±×¸®°í ³ª´Â ±×°Ô Á×À½ÀÎ ÁÙ ¾Ë¾Ò´Ù

(³ª´Â ±× ¿µÈ¥ÀÇ ¼Ò¸®¸¦ µé¾ú´Ù)

±×¸®°í ³ª´Â ±×°Ô Á×À½ÀÎ ÁÙ ¾Ë¾Ò´Ù

ħ¹¬ÇÏ¸ç ±×¸¦ ±â´Ù¸®°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù...

On est venu dire

(Mon enfant, j¡¯ai peur)

On est venu dire

Qu¡¯il allait partir . ...

±×µéÀÌ ¿Í¼­ ¸»Çß´Ù
(³» ÀÚ½Ä, ³ª´Â µÎ·Æ´Ù)

±×µéÀÌ ¿Í¼­ ¸»Çß´Ù

±×´Â ¸Ö¸® °¡°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù...

Ma lampe allumée

(Mon enfant, j¡¯ai peur)

Ma lampe allumée

Me suis approchee...

µîºÒÀ» ÄÑ°í¼­

(³» ÀÚ½Ä, ³ª´Â µÎ·Æ´Ù)

µîºÒÀ» ÄÑ°í¼­

³ª´Â ´õ °¡±îÀÌ ¿Ã¶ó°¬´Ù...

À la première porte

(Mon enfant, j¡¯ai peur)

À la première porte

La flamme a tremblé . . .

ù° ¹®¿¡¼­
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À la seconde porte

(Mon enfant, j¡¯ai peur)

À la seconde porte,

La flamme a parlé . . .

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À la troisième porte

(Mon enfant, j¡¯ai peur)

À la troisième porte

La lumière est morte . . .

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Et s¡¯il revenait unjour

Que faut-il lui dire?

Dites-lui qu¡¯on l¡¯attendit

Jusqu¡¯à s¡¯en mourir ...

±×¸®°í ±×°¡ ¾ðÁ¦ µ¹¾Æ ¿Â´Ù¸é

³ª´Â ±×¿¡°Ô ¹«¾ùÀ» ¸»ÇÏÁö?

±×¿¡°Ô ±×³à°¡ Á×¾ú´Ù ¸»ÇÏ·Å

±×µé ±â´Ù¸®´Ù°¡...

Et s¡¯il interroge encore

Sans me reconnaître,

Parlez-lui comme une sceur,

Il souffre peut-être ...

±×¸®°í ±×°¡ ´õ ¹¯´Â´Ù¸é

³»°¡ ´©±ºÁö ±ú´ÝÁö ¸øÇÑ Ã¤,

´©ÀÌó·³ ±×¿¡°Ô ¸»ÇÏ·Å,

±×°¡ °íÅë ¹Þ°í ÀÖÀ» °Å¶ó°í...

Et s¡¯il demande où vous êtes

Que faut-il répondre?

Donnez-lui mon anneau d¡¯or

Sans rien lui répondre . . .

±×¸®°í ±×°¡ ³×°¡ ¾îµð¿¡ ÀÖ´ÂÁö ¹°À¸¸é

³ª´Â ±×¿¡°Ô ¹«¾ùÀÌ¶ó ¸»ÇÏÁö?

±×¿¡°Ô ³» ±Ý¹ÝÁö¸¦ ÁÖ·Å

±×¸®°í ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ´õ ¸»ÇÏÁö ¸»·Å...

Et s¡¯il veut savoir pourquoi

La salle est déserte?

Montrez-lui la lampe éteinte

Et la porte ouverte . . .

±×¸®°í ±×°¡ ¿Ö³Ä°í ¹¯´Â´Ù¸é

±× ¹æÀÌ ÅÖ ºñ¾ú´ÂÁö?

±×¿¡°Ô ¾îµÎ¿î µîÀ» º¸¿© ÁÖ·Å

±×¸®°í ¹®À» ¿­¾î¼­...

Et s¡¯il m¡¯interroge alors

Sur la dernière heure?

Dites-lui quej¡¯ai souri

De peur qu¡¯il ne pleure . . . [71]

±×¸®°í ´ÙÀ½¿¡ ±×°¡ ³»°Ô ¹¯´Â´Ù¸é

ÀÓÁ¾¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼­?

³»°¡ ¹Ì¼Ò Áö¾ú´Ù°í ±×¿¡°Ô ¸»ÇÏ·Å

µÎ·Á¿ö¼­ ±×°¡ ¿ï °Í °°±â¿¡.

Who went out? Who came in? Who is talking? Who died? ´©°¡ ³ª°¬Áö? ´©°¡ µé¾î ¿ÔÁö? ´©°¡ ¸»Çϰí Àִ°¡? ´©°¡ Á×¾ú³ª?

I ask the reader not to be lazy about reading the examples I cite in the first appendix from the better-known and esteemed young poets — Griffin, [72] Régnier, Moréas and Montesquiou. It is necessary in order to form a clear idea of the true state of art, and not to think, as many do, that decadence is an accidental, temporary phenomenon.

³ª´Â µ¶ÀÚµéÀÌ Á¦ÀÏ ºÎ·Ï¿¡¼­ Àß ¾Ë·ÁÁ® ÀÖÀ¸¸ç Ã˸Á ¹Þ´Â ÀþÀº ½ÃÀÎµé — ±×¸®ÇÉ, ·¹´Ï¿¡, ¸ð·¹¾Æ½º ¹× ¸ùÅ×½ºÅ°¿Ü — ¿¡°Ô¼­ ³»°¡ ÀοëÇÏ´Â ¿¹µéÀ» ÀÐ¾î º¸±â¸¦ °ÔÀ»¸® ÇÏÁö ¸» °ÍÀ» ´çºÎÇÑ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÂüµÈ »óÅ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¸í·áÇÑ °³³äÀ» Çü¼ºÇϰí, ´Ù¸¥ ¸¹Àº »ç¶÷µéó·³, ÅðÆóÁÖÀǰ¡ ¿ì¿¬ÇÑ °ÍÀ̸ç, ÀϽÃÀûÀÎ Çö»óÀ̶ó°í »ý°¢ÇÏÁö ¾Êµµ·Ï Çϱâ À§ÇØ ±×°ÍÀº ÇÊ¿äÇÏ´Ù.

To avoid the reproach of having picked out the worst poems, I have cited from each book the poem that happened to appear on the twenty-eighth page.

ÃÖ¾ÇÀÇ ½ÃµéÀ» »Ì¾Ò´Ù´Â ºñ³­À» ÇÇÇϱâ À§ÇØ, ³ª´Â °¢°¢ÀÇ Ã¥¿¡¼­ ½º¹° ¿©´ü ¹øÂ° ÆäÀÌÁö¿¡ ¿Ã¶ó ÀÖ´Â ½Ã¸¦ ÀοëÇÏ¿´´Ù.

All the poems of these poets are equally incomprehensible, or comprehensible only with great effort and then not fully.

ÀÌµé ½ÃÀεéÀÇ ¸ðµç ½ÃµéÀº ¶È °°ÀÌ ³­ÇØÇϰųª, ¾öû³­ ³ë·ÂÀÌ ÀÖ¾î¾ß¸¸ ÀÌÇØµÇ¸ç, ±×·³¿¡µµ ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ÀÌÇØµÇÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù.

All the works of these hundreds of poets, of whom I have named only a few, are the same. And the same sort of poems are published by Germans, Scandinavians, Italians and us Russians. If not millions, at least hundreds of thousands of copies are typeset and printed (some sell in tens of thousands). To typeset, print, compose and bind these books, millions and millions of working days are spent — no less, I think, than for the building of a big pyramid. But not only that: the same thing goes on in all the other arts, and millions of working days are spent to produce objects just as incomprehensible in painting, music, drama.

ÀÌµé ¼ö¹é ¸íÀÇ ½ÃÀεéÀÇ ¸ðµç ÀÛǰµéÀº, ±×°Íµé¿¡ ´ëÇØ ´ÜÁö ¸î °¡Áö¸¸ ¸»ÇßÁö¸¸, µ¿ÀÏÇÏ´Ù. ±×¸®°í µ¿ÀÏÇÑ Á¾·ùÀÇ ½ÃµéÀÌ µ¶ÀÏÀεé, ½ºÄ­µð³ªºñ¾ÆÀεé, ÀÌÅ»¸®¾ÆÀÎµé ¹× ¿ì¸® ·¯½Ã¾ÆÀÎ µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÃâÆÇµÈ´Ù. ¼ö¹é¸¸Àº ¾Æ´ÒÁö¶óµµ, Àû¾îµµ ¼ö½Ê¸¸ ºÎ°¡ ȰÀÚÈ­µÇ¾î ÀμâµÇ¾ú´Ù (¾î¶² °ÍÀº ¼ö¸¸ ºÎ°¡ ÆÈ¸°´Ù). ÀÌ Ã¥µéÀ» ȰÀÚÈ­Çϰí ÀμâÇϰí, Á¤¸®Çϰí, Á¦º»Çϱâ À§ÇØ, ¾öû³­ ¾çÀÇ ³ëµ¿ÀÏÀÌ ¼Ò¸ðµÈ´Ù — »ý°¢°Ç´ë, °Å´ëÇÑ ÇǶó¹Ìµå¸¦ °Ç¼³ÇÏ´Â °Íº¸´Ù °áÄÚ ÀûÁö ¾Ê´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ±×°Í »ÓÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù: µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ÀÏÀÌ ´Ù¸¥ ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úµé¿¡¼­ ÀϾ¸ç, ¹Ì¼ú, À½¾Ç, ¿¬±¹¿¡¼­¿Í ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î ³­ÇØÇÑ ÀÛǰµéÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»±â À§ÇØ ¼ö¹é¸¸ÀÇ ³ëµ¿ÀÏÀÌ ¼Ò¸ðµÈ´Ù.

Painting not only does not lag behind poetry in this, but even outstrips it. Here is a passage from the diary of an amateur of painting who visited the Paris exhibitions in 1894: [73]

¹Ì¼úÀº ÀÌ Á¡¿¡¼­ ½Ãº¸´Ù µÚÃÄÁöÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó À̸¦ ´É°¡ÇÑ´Ù. ¿©±â 1894³â ÆÄ¸® Àü½Ãȸ¸¦ ´Ù³à¿Â ¾Æ¸¶Ãß¾î ¹Ì¼ú°¡ÀÇ Àϱ⿡¼­ °¡Á®¿Â ±ÛÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù:

Today I attended three exhibitions: symbolists, impressionists and neo-impressionists. I looked at the paintings conscientiously and diligently — but again the same perplexity and, in the end, indignation. The first exhibition, of Camille Pissarro, is still the most comprehensible, though there is no drawing, no content, and the colours are most incredible. The drawing is so indefinite that one sometimes cannot tell which way a hand or head is turned. The content is mostly effets effet de brouillard, ejfet du soir, soleil couchant. [74] Several paintings with figures, but without subject.

¿À´Ã ³ª´Â »ó¡ÁÖÀÇÀÚµé, ÀλóÁÖÀÇÀÚµé ¹× ½ÅÀλóÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀÇ ¼¼°¡Áö Àü½Ãȸµé¿¡ Âü¼®Çß´Ù. ³ª´Â ÁøÁöÇÏ°Ô ±×¸®°í ºÎÁö·±È÷ ±×¸²µéÀ» °ü¶÷ÇÏ¿´´Ù — ±×·¯³ª ´Ù½Ã±Ý ¶È°°ÀÌ È¥¶õ½º·¯¿üÀ¸¸ç, °á±¹¿¡´Â ºÐÅëÀÌ ÅÍÁ³´Ù. ù ¹øÂ° Àü½Ã´Â, ±î¹ÌÀ¯ ÇÇ»ç·ÎÀÇ °ÍÀ¸·Î, ±× Áß °¡Àå ³³µæÀÌ °¬Áö¸¸, ¾Æ¹«·± ±×¸®±âµµ, ¾Æ¹«·± ³»¿ëµµ ¾ø¾úÀ¸¸ç,  »ö»óµéÀº ´çÂú¾Ò´Ù. ±×¸®±â´Â ³Ê¹«³ª ¾Ö¸ÅÇØ¼­ ¾î´À ¹æÇâÀ¸·Î ¼ÕÀ̳ª ¸Ó¸®°¡ ÇâÇÏ´ÂÁö ¶§´ë·Î ºÐº°ÇÒ ¼öµµ ¾ø¾ú´Ù. ³»¿ëÀº ´ëüÀûÀ¸·Î È¿°úµé — ¾È°³ È¿°ú, Àú³á È¿°ú, ¼®¾ç — À̾ú´Ù. ¾î¶² ±×¸²µéÀº Çü»óµéÀº À־ ÁÖÁ¦´Â ¾ø¾ú´Ù.

In colouring there is a predominance of bright blue and bright green. And each painting has its basic tone, with which the painting is as if spattered. For example, the goose-girl has a basic tone of vert-de-gris, and there are spots of this colour everywhere: on her face, hair, arms, dress. In the same Durand-Ruel gallery, other paintings by Puvis de Chavannes, Manet, Monet, Renoir, Sisley — these are all impressionists. One of them — I could not make out his name, something like Redon — painted a blue face in profile. The whole face is just this blue tone, with some white. In Pissarro there is one watercolour done entirely in dots. In the foreground a cow, all painted in multicoloured dots. One cannot catch the general tone, whether one stands back or steps close. From there I went to look at the symbolists. I looked for a long time without asking anyone, trying to guess for myself what the point was — but it is beyond human comprehension. One of the first things that struck my eye was a wooden haut-relief, of ugly execution, portraying a woman (naked) who with her two hands is squeezing streams of blood from her nipples. The blood flows down and becomes purple flowers. The hair first hangs down, then is pulled up, turning into trees. The figure is painted yellow all over, the hair is brown.

»ö»ó¿¡¼± ¿¶Àº û»ö ¹× ¿¶Àº ³ì»öÀÌ ÁÖ·ù¸¦ ÀÌ·ç¾ú´Ù. ±×¸®°í °¢°¢ÀÇ ±×¸²Àº ±âº» »öÁ¶°¡ ÀÖ¾ú´Âµ¥, ±×¸²Àº ÀÌ·± ¹æ½ÄÀ» Èð»Ñ·Á ³õÀº °Í °°¾Ò´Ù. ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, °ÅÀ§Áö±â ¿©ÀÚ´Â ±âº» »öÁ¶°¡ ³ìû»öÀ̸ç, µµÃ³ ±×³àÀÇ ¾ó±¼, ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ô ÆÈ, ÀǺ¹ ¿¡ ÀÌ »ö»óÀÌ ¹ÚÇô ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. µ¿ÀÏÇÑ µà¶õ ·ç¿¤ È­¶û¿¡, —àºñ µå »þ¹æ, ¸¶³×, ¸£³ë¿Í¸£, ½Ã½½¸®°¡ ±×¸° ´Ù¸¥ ±×¸²µé — À̰͵éÀº ¸ðµÎ ÀλóÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀÌ´Ù — ÀÌ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×µé ÁßÀÇ Çϳª´Â — ±×ÀÇ À̸§Àº ±â¾ïÇÒ ¼ö ¾øÁö¸¸, ·¹µ· ºñ½ÁÇÑ ¾î¶² °ÍÀε¥ — Ǫ¸¥»ö Ãø¸é ¾ó±¼À» ±×·È´Ù. Àüü ¾ó±¼Àº ¹Ù·Î ÀÌ °°Àº ¾à°£ Èò»öÀ» ¶í Ǫ¸¥ »öÁ¶ÀÌ´Ù. ÇÇ»ç·Î¿¡°Ô À־ Àüü°¡ Á¡µé·Î µÈ ÇѰ¡Áö ¼öäȭ¹ýÀ¸·Î ÀÌ·ç¾î Áø´Ù. Àü¸é¿¡¼­ ÇÑ ¾Ï¼Ò´Â, ¸ðµÎ ´Ù¾çÇÑ »ö»óÀÇ Á¡µé·Î Ä¥Çß´Ù. µÚ·Î ¹°·¯¼­µç °¡±îÀÌ ´Ù°¡¼­µç ÀϹÝÀû »öÁ¶¸¦ °¨ÁöÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù. °Å±â·ÎºÎÅÍ ³ª´Â »ó¡ÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀ» º¸·¯ °¬´Ù. ³ª´Â ¾Æ¹«¿¡°Ôµµ Áú¹®ÇÏÁö ¾Ê°í¼­ ÇÑÂü µ¿¾È ¹Ù¶ó º¸¾ÒÀ¸¸ç, ¿äÁ¡ÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀÎÁö ÁüÀÛÇØ º¸°íÀÚ ¾Ö¸¦ ½è´Ù — ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±×°ÍÀº »ç¶÷ÀÇ ÀÌÇØÀÇ °æÁö¸¦ ¹þ¾î³ª ÀÖ´Ù. ³ªÀÇ ½Ã¼±À» ²ö ÃÖÃÊÀÇ °Íµé Áß Çϳª´Â ¸ñÀç·Î µÈ ³ôÀº ¾ç°¢À̾úÀ¸¸ç, ÈäÇÏ°Ô ¸¸µç °ÍÀ¸·Î, (³ªÃ¼ÀÇ)¿©ÀÚ°¡ µÎ ¼ÕÀ¸·Î ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ Á¥²ÀÁö·ÎºÎÅÍ Çǰ¡ ¶Ò¶Ò ¶³¾îÁöµµ·Ï Â¥³»°í ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù. Çǰ¡ Èê·¯ ³»·Á¼­ ÀÚÁÖ»ö ²ÉµéÀÌ µÇ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ôÀº ¸ÕÀú ¾Æ·¡·Î ´Ã¾îÁö°í ´ÙÀ½¿£ ²ø¾î ¿Ã·ÁÁ® ³ª¹«µé·Î º¯ÇÑ´Ù. À±°ûÀº ÀüüÀûÀ¸·Î ³ë¶þ°Ô Ä¥ÇØÁö¸ç, ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ôÀº °¥»öÀÌ´Ù.

Then a painting: a yellow sea, and floating in it what might be a ship or might be a heart; on the horizon a profile with a halo and yellow hair that becomes the sea and gets lost in it. The paint in some paintings is applied so thickly that it comes out as something between painting and sculpture. A third work, still less comprehensible: a male profile, before it a flame and black stripes — leeches, it was later explained to me. I finally asked a gentleman who was there what it all means, and he explained to me that the statue was a symbol, that it represented La Terre, that the heart floating in the yellow sea was Illusion, and the gentleman with the leeches was Le Mal. There were several impressionist paintings among them: primitive profiles with some flower in their hand. Monochrome, no drawing, and either completely indefinite or else outlined with a broad black contour.

´ÙÀ½¿£ ¾î¶² ±×¸²: ³ë¶õ ¹Ù´Ù, ±×¸®°í ±× À§¿¡ ¹èÀ̰ųª ½ÉÀåÀÏ °Í °°Àº °ÍÀÌ ¶°ÀÖ´Ù; ¼öÆò¼±¿£ Èı¤À» Áö´Ñ À±°û°ú ¹Ù´Ù°¡ µÇ¸ç ±× ¾È¿¡ »ç¶óÁö´Â ³ë¶õ ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ôÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù. ¾î¶² ±×¸²µé¿¡¼­ »öÄ¥Àº ³Ê¹«³ª µÎ²®°Ô µÇ¾î¼­ ±×¸²°ú Á¶°¢ »çÀÌÀÇ ¾î¶² °ÍÀ¸·Î º¸ÀδÙ. ¼¼ ¹øÂ° ÀÛǰÀº, ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ÀÌÇØ°¡ ´ú µÇ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, ³²ÀÚÀÇ Àι°ÀÌ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±× ¾Õ¿¡ È­¿°°ú °ËÀº äÂïµé — µÚ¿¡ ¼³¸íµÇ±â·Î °Å¸Ó¸®µé — °¡ ÀÖ´Ù. ³ª´Â ¸¶Ä§³» °Å±â ÀÖ´Â ½Å»ç¿¡°Ô ±×°Ô ¸ðµÎ ¹«¾ùÀ» ÀǹÌÇϴ°¡ ¹°¾ú°í, ±×´Â ³»°Ô ¼³¸íÇϱ⸦, ±× Çü»óÀº »ó¡À̸ç, ±×°ÍÀº ¶¥(La Terre)À» ³ªÅ¸³»¸ç, ³ë¶õ ¹Ù´Ù À§¿¡ ¶°ÀÖ´Â ½ÉÀåÀº ȯ¿µ(Illusion)À̰í, °Å¸Ó¸®µé°ú ÇÔ²² ÀÖ´Â ½Å»çµéÀº ¾Ç(Le Mal)À̶ó°í Çß´Ù. ±×°Íµé Áß¿£ ¸î °¡Áö ÀλóÁÖÀÇ ±×¸²µéÀÌ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù: ¼Õ¿¡ ¸î ¼ÛÀÌ ²ÉµéÀ» µç ¿ø½ÃÀûÀÎ Àι°ÀÌ´Ù. ´Ü»öÀ̸ç, ½ºÄÉÄ¡µµ ¾ø°í, µÎ²¨¿î À±°ûÀ» µÎ¸¥ ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î ¾Ö¸ÅÇϰųª ±×·± °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù.

That was in the year 1894; now this tendency is still more strongly defined: Bocklin, Stuck, Klinger, Sasha Schneider and others. [75]

À̰ÍÀº 1894³â¿¡ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù; ÀÌÁ¦ ÀÌ·± °æÇâÀº ÈξÀ ´õ °­·ÂÇÏ°Ô Á¤ÀǵȴÙ: º¸Å¬¸°,½ºÅÎ, Ŭ¸µ°Å, »ç»þ ½¬³ªÀÌ´õ ¹× µî.

The same thing is also happening in the drama. We are shown an architect who for some reason has not fulfilled his earlier lofty intentions and consequently climbs on to the roof of a house he has built and throws himself off it head first; or some incomprehensible old woman who exterminates rats and who, for no apparent reason, takes a poetical child to the sea and drowns him there; or some blind men who sit on the seashore and for some reason keep repeating the same thing over and over again; or some bell that falls into a lake and rings there. [76]

¿¬±Ø¿¡µµ ¶È °°Àº ÀÏÀÌ ÀϾ°í ÀÖ´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â ¾î¶² ÀÌÀ¯¿¡¼±Áö ±×ÀÇ ÃʱâÀÇ ¼þ°íÇÑ ÀǵµµéÀ» ¼ºÃëÇÏÁö ¸øÇÑ ÇÑ °ÇÃà°¡°¡ °á±¹Àº ±×°¡ ÁöÀº ¾î¶² °¡¿ÁÀÇ ÁöºØ¿¡ ¿Ã¶ó°¡¼­ ¸Ó¸®¸¦ ¾Æ·¡·Î ÇÏ°í ¶Ù¾î ³»¸®´Â °Í; ȤÀº »ýÁãµéÀ» ¹Ú¸êÇϸç, ¾Æ¹«·± ¸í¹éÇÑ ÀÌÀ¯ ¾øÀÌ ½ÃÀûÀÎ ÇÑ ¾ÆÀ̸¦ ¹Ù´Ù¿¡ µ¥·Á°¡¼­ ºüÆ®¸®´Â ¾î¶² ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ³ëÆÄ; ȤÀº ¹Ù´å°¡¿¡ ¾É¾Æ ÀÖ´Â ¾î¶² ¸ÍÀÎÀÌ ¾î¶² ÀÌÀ¯¿¡¼±Áö ¶È°°Àº ÀÏÀ» °è¼ÓÇØ¼­ µÇÇ®ÀÌÇϸç; ¿¬¸ø¿¡ ºüÁø ¾î¶² Á¾ÀÌ °Å±â¼­ ¿ï¸®´Â °ÍÀ» ±¸°æÇÏ°Ô µÈ´Ù.

The same thing is also happening in music — an art which, it seems, ought to be understood in the same way by everyone.

À½¾Ç — ¹ÝµíÀÌ  ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¶È°°Àº ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î ÀÌÇØµÇ¾î¾ß ÇÏ´Â °Íó·³ º¸ÀÌ´Â ¿¹¼ú ¿¡¼­µµ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ÀÏÀÌ ¹ú¾îÁø´Ù.

A well-known musician of your acquaintance sits down to the piano and plays for you what he says is a new work of his or of one of the new composers. You listen to the strange, loud noises, marvel at the gymnastic exercises of the fingers, and see clearly that the composer wishes to suggest to you that the sounds he is producing are poetic yearnings of the soul. You see his intention, but no other feeling is communicated to you except boredom. The performance goes on for a long time, or so at least it seems to you, a very long time, because without perceiving anything clearly, you involuntarily recall the words of Alphonse Karr: ¡®Plus ça va vite, plus ça dure longtemps.¡¯ [77] And it occurs to you that it is perhaps a mystification, that the performer is testing you, throwing his hands and fingers randomly on the keys hoping you will get caught in the trap and start praising him at which point he will laugh and confess that he was merely testing you. But when it is finally over, and the musician rises, sweaty and excited, from the piano, obviously expecting to be praised, you see that it was all very serious.

¿ì¸®°¡ ¾Æ´Â À¯¸íÇÑ À½¾Ç°¡°¡ ÇÇ¾Æ³ë ¾Õ¿¡ ¾É´Â´Ù ±×¸®°í ´ç½ÅÀ» À§ÇØ ±×°¡ ÀÏÄ´ ¹Ù ±×ÀÇ È¤Àº »õ·Î¿î ÀÛ°î°¡µé ÁßÀÇ ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÇ »õ·Î¿î ÀÛǰÀ» ¿¬ÁÖÇÑ´Ù. ´ç½ÅÀº ÀÌ»óÇÏ°í ½Ã²ô·¯¿î ¼ÒÀ½µé¿¡ ±Í¸¦ ±â¿ïÀ̸ç, üÁ¶¿¡ °¡±î¿î ¼Õ°¡¶ô ÈÆ·Ãµé¿¡ °¨ÅºÇÑ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ÀÛ°î°¡°¡ ±×°¡ ¸¸µé¾î ³»´Â ¼Ò¸®µéÀÌ ¿µÈ¥ÀÇ ½ÃÀû °¥¸ÁµéÀ̶ó´Â °ÍÀ» ´ç½Å¿¡°Ô ¾Ï½ÃÇϱ⸦ ¹Ù¶õ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ¸í¹éÈ÷ ±ú´Ý´Â´Ù. ´ç½ÅÀº ±×ÀÇ Àǵµ¸¦ ±ú´ÝÁö¸¸, Áö·çÇÔ ¿Ü¿¡ ¾î¶² ´À³¦µéµµ ´ç½Å¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞµÇÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù. ¿¬ÁÖ´Â ¿À·§µ¿¾È Áö¼ÓµÇ°Å³ª, Àû¾îµµ ´ç½Å¿¡°Ô ¾ÆÁÖ ¿À·£ µ¿¾È ±×·± °Íó·³ º¸ÀδÙ, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ¾î¶² °ÍÀ» ¸í·áÇÏ°Ô ÀνÄÇÏÁö ¸øÇÑ Ã¤, ´ç½ÅÀº ¹«ÀǽÄÀûÀ¸·Î ¾ËÆù¼Ò Ä«¸£ÀÇ ¸»µéÀ» ±â¾ïÇϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù: '»¡¸® ¿òÁ÷ÀÏ ¼ö·Ï, ¿À·¡ Áö¼ÓµÈ´Ù.' ±×¸®°í ±×°ÍÀÌ ¾Æ¸¶ Ȧ¸®´Â °ÍÀ̸ç, ¿¬ÁÖÀÚ°¡ ´ç½ÅÀ» ½ÃÇèÇϰí ÀÖ°í, ±×ÀÇ ¼Õµé°ú ¼Õ°¡¶ôµéÀ» °Ç¹Ýµé¿¡ ¸¶±¸ÀâÀÌ·Î Èֵѷ¯¼­ ´ç½ÅÀ» ÇÔÁ¤¿¡ ºüÁö°Ô ÇÏ°í ±×µé ĪÂùÇϱ⠽ÃÀÛÇϱ⸦ ¹Ù¶ó¸ç ±× Á¡À» ºñ¿ôÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù ±×¸®°í ±×°¡ ´ÜÁö ´ç½ÅÀ» ½ÃÇèÇϰí ÀÖ¾ú´Ù°í °í¹éÇÑ´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ±×°ÍÀÌ ¸¶Ä§³» ³¡³ª°í, À½¾Ç°¡°¡ ¶¡ÀÌ º£°í ÈïºÐÇÏ¿©, ¸í¹éÈ÷ ĪÂù ¹Þ°íÀÚ ±â´ëÇϸ鼭,  ÇǾƳ뿡¼­ ÀÏ¾î ³¯ ¶§, ±×°ÍÀÌ ¸ðµÎ ³Ê¹«³ª ÁøÁöÇß´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ±ú´Ý´Â´Ù.

The same things happens at all concerts with performances of Liszt, Wagner, Berlioz, Brahms and — the latest — Richard Strauss, and countless others who ceaselessly compose opera after opera, symphony after symphony, piece after piece.

¶È °°Àº ÀϵéÀÌ ¸®½ºÆ®, ¹Ù±×³Ê, º£¸¦¸®¿ÀÁî, ºê¶÷½º ±×¸®°í — °¡Àå ÃÖ±ÙÀÇ — ¸®Ã³µå ½ºÆ®¶ó¿ì½º, ±×¸®°í ²÷ÀÓ¾øÀÌ ¿ÀÆä¶ó¿Í ¿ÀÆä¶ó¸¦, ±×¸®°í ±³Çâ°î°ú ±³Çâ°îÀ» ÀÛ°îÇÏ´Â ¹«¼öÇÑ ÀÛ°î°¡µéÀÇ ÀÛǰµéÀ» °ø¿¬ÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç À½¾Çȸµé¿¡¼­ ÀϾ´Ù.

The same thing happens in that area where it would seem difficult to be incomprehensible — the area of the novel and the short story.

¶È °°Àº ÀÏÀÌ ³­ÇØÇØÁö´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾î·Á¿î °Íó·³ º¸ÀÏ °Í °°Àº ¿µ¿ª — ¼Ò¼³ ¹× ´ÜÆí ¼Ò¼³ÀÇ ¿µ¿ª — ¿¡¼­µµ ¹ß»ýÇÑ´Ù.

You read Là-bas by Huysmans, or short stories by Kipling, or L¡¯Annonciateur from the Contes cruels of Villiers de l¡¯Isle Adam, [78] etc., and all this is for you not only abscons [79] (a new word of the new writers), but utterly incomprehensible both in form and in content. Such, for instance, is the novel Terre promise by E. Morel, now appearing in the Revue Blanche, [80] as well as the majority of new novels: the style is quite bold, the feelings seem to be lofty, but one simply cannot understand what is happening where and to whom.

ÈÖ½º¸¸ÀÇ Àú ³Ê¸Ó¿¡(Là-bas) ȤÀº ŰÇøµÀÇ ´ÜÆíµé, ȤÀº ºô¸®¾î ¾ÆÀÏ ¾Æ´ãÀÇ ÀÜÀÎÇÑ À̾߱âµé ÁßÀÇ ÅëÁöÀÚ µîÀ» ÀÐ¾î º¸¶ó, ±×·¯¸é ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ÍÀÌ ´ç½Å¿¡°Ô ³­ÇØÇÒ(abscons, ½Å ÀÛ°¡µéÀÇ ½ÅÁ¶¾î) »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, Çü½ÄÀ̳ª ³»¿ë¿¡¼­ ÀüÇô ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¸¦ µé¾î, ÇöÀç Revue Blanche¿¡ ¿Ã¶ó ÀÖ´Â E. ¸ð·¼ÀÇ ¾à¼ÓÀÇ ¶¥(Terre promise)Àº ¹°·Ð ´ë´Ù¼ö »õ·Î¿î ¼Ò¼³µéÀÌ ±×·¯ÇÏ´Ù; ¹®Ã¼´Â ¸Å¿ì ´ë´ãÇϰí, ´À³¦µéÀº °í»óÇØ º¸ÀÌÁö¸¸, ¿ì¸®´Â ¾îµð¿¡ ´©±¸¿¡°Ô ¹«¾ùÀÌ ÀϾ°í ÀÖ´ÂÁö ±×Àú ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾øÀ» »ÓÀÌ´Ù.

And all the young art of our time is like that.

±×¸®°í ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¸ðµç ÀþÀº ¿¹¼úÀº ±×¿Í °°´Ù.

People of the first half of our century — admirers of Goethe, Schiller, Musset, Hugo, Dickens, Beethoven, Chopin, Raphael, da Vinci, Michelangelo, Delaroche [81] — understanding nothing of this new art, often simply regard its works as tasteless madness and wish to ignore them. But this attitude towards the new art is completely unfounded, because, first of all, this art is spreading more and more, and has already won itself a firm position in society — just as romanticism did in the ¡®thirties; second, and above all, because if we are able to judge the works of the latest, so-called decadent art in this way simply because we do not understand them, then there is an enormous number of people — including all working people and many non-workers — who in exactly the same way do not understand those works of art which we consider beautiful: the poems of our own favorite artists — Goethe, Schiller, Hugo; the novels of Dickens; the music of Beethoven and Chopin; the paintings of Raphael, Michelangelo, da Vinci, et al.

¿ì¸® ¼¼±â Àü¹Ý±âÀÇ »ç¶÷µé — ±«Å×, ½¯·¯, ¹¿¼¼, ÈÞ°í, µðŲÁî, º£Å亥, ¼îÆØ, ¶óÆÄ¿¤, ´ÙºóÄ¡, ¹ÌÄ̶õÁ©·Î, µ¨¶ó·Î½¬ÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµé — Àº ÀÌ·± »õ·Î¿î ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇØ ÀüÇô ¸ð¸§À¸·Î½á, Á¾Á¾ ±× ÀÛǰµéÀ» ´Ü¼øÈ÷ ¹«¹Ì°ÇÁ¶ÇÑ ¹ÌÄ£ ÁþÀ¸·Î Ä¡ºÎÇÏ¸ç ±×°ÍµéÀ» ¹«½ÃÇϰíÀÚ ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª »õ·Î¿î ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÌ·± °æÇâÀº ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ±Ù°Å°¡ ¾ø´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ¸ÕÀú ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀº — »ï½Ê ³â´ëÀÇ ³¶¸¸ÁÖÀÇó·³ —  Á¡Á¡ ´õ È®»êµÇ¾î ÀÌ¹Ì »çȸ¿¡¼­ È®°íÇÑ À§Ä¡¸¦ Â÷ÁöÇØ ¹ö·È±â ¶§¹®À̸ç; µÑ°·Î, ¿ì¸®°¡ ±×°ÍµéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇϱ⿡ ´Ü¼øÈ÷ ¿ì¸®°¡ ÃÖ±ÙÀÇ ÀÛǰµéÀ», ¼ÒÀ§ ÀÌ·± ¹æ½ÄÀÇ ÅðÆóÁÖÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀ» Æò°¡ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù¸é, ¿ì¸®°¡ ¾Æ¸§´ä´Ù°í ¿©±â´Â ±×·± ÀÛǰµé — ¿ì¸®°¡ °¡Àå ÁÁ¾Æ ÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀÇ ½Ãµé —  ±«Å×, ½¯·¯, ÈÞ°í; µðŲÁîÀÇ ¼Ò¼³µé; º£Å亥°ú ¼îÆØÀÇ À½¾Ç; ¶óÆÄ¿¤, ¹ÌÄ̶õÁ©·Î, ´ÙºóÄ¡ÀÇ ±×¸²µé, µî — À» Á¤È®È÷ ¶È°°ÀÌ ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â ¾öû³ª°Ô ¸¹Àº »ç¶÷µé — ¸ðµç ³ëµ¿ÀÚµé ¹× ºñ ³ëµ¿ÀÚµéÀ» Æ÷ÇÔÇÏ¿© — ÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù.

If I have the right to think that large masses of people neither understand nor love what I recognize as unquestionably good, because they are not sufficiently developed, then I have no right to deny that it is possible for me not to understand or love the new works of art because I am insufficiently developed to understand them. And if I have the right to say that I, along with the majority of like-minded people, do not understand the works of the new art simply because there is nothing to understand and because it is bad art, then a still greater majority, the entire mass of working people who do not understand what I regard as beautiful art, have the same right to say that what I regard as good art is bad art and there is nothing in it to understand.

¸¸ÀÏ ³»°¡, ¸¹Àº ´ëÁßµéÀÌ ±×µéÀÌ ÃæºÐÈ÷ ¹ßÀüµÇÁö ¾Ê¾Ò±â ¶§¹®¿¡, ³»°¡ ÀǽÉÀÇ ¿©Áö ¾øÀÌ ¼±ÇÏ´Ù°í ÀνÄÇϰí ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏÁöµµ »ç¶ûÇÏÁöµµ ¾Ê´Â´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÒ ±Ç¸®°¡ ÀÖ´Ù¸é, ³»°¡ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¸¸Å­ ÃæºÐÈ÷ ¹ßÀüµÇÁö ¾Ê¾Ò±â ¶§¹®¿¡, ³»°¡ »õ·Î¿î ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇϰųª »ç¶ûÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ºÎÁ¤ÇÒ ±Ç¸®µµ ¾ø´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¸¸ÀÏ ³»°¡ ´Ü¼øÈ÷, ´ë´Ù¼ö ºñ½ÁÇÑ »ý°¢À» °¡Áø »ç¶÷µé°ú ÇÔ²², ³»°¡  »õ·Î¿î ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀÌ ÀÌÇØÇÒ °ÍÀÌ ¾øÀ¸¸ç ¾ÇÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀ̱⠶§¹®¿¡, ±×°ÍµéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÑ´Ù°í ¸»ÇÒ ±Ç¸®°¡ ÀÖ´Ù¸é, ³»°¡ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò ¿¹¼úÀÌ¶ó ¿©±â´Â °ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µé Àüü ´ëÁßÀº, ³»°¡ ¼±ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó°í ¿©±â´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾ÇÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÌ¸ç °Å±â¿¡ ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¾Æ¹« °Íµµ ¾ø´Ù°í ¸»ÇÒ ¶È°°Àº ±Ç¸®¸¦ °¡Áø´Ù.

I once saw especially clearly how wrong it is to condemn the new art when, in my presence, a poet who writes incomprehensible verses laughed with merry self-confidence at incomprehensible music, and soon afterwards a musician who composes incomprehensible symphonies laughed with the same self-confidence at incomprehensible poetry. I cannot condemn the new art and have no right to condemn it simply because, as a man brought up in the first half of the century, I do not understand it; I can only say that I am unable to understand it. The one advantage of the art which I recognize over the art of the decadents is that the art which I recognize is understood by a slightly larger number of people than present-day art.

³ª´Â »õ·Î¿î ¿¹¼úÀ» ºñ³­ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾ó¸¶³ª À߸øµÈ °ÍÀÎÁö ƯÈ÷ ¸í¹éÈ÷ ±ú´ÞÀº ÀûÀÌ ÀÖ¾ú´Âµ¥, ³ªÀÇ ¸éÀü¿¡¼­, ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ½ÃµéÀ» ¾²´Â ÇÑ ½ÃÀÎÀÌ ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â À½¾Ç¿¡ ´ëÇØ À¯ÄèÇÑ ÀڽۨÀ¸·Î ºñ¿ô°í, ¾ó¸¶Áö ¾Ê¾Æ ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ±³Çâ°îµéÀ» ÀÛ°îÇÏ´Â ÇÑ À½¾Ç°¡°¡ ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ½Ã¿¡ ´ëÇÏ ¶È°°Àº ÀڽۨÀ¸·Î ºñ¿ôÀº ¶§¹®À̾ú´Ù. ³ª´Â »õ·Î¿î ¿¹¼úÀ» ºñ³­ÇÒ ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç ±×°ÍÀ» ºñ³­ÇÒ ±Ç¸®µµ ¾ø´Ù ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ´Ü¼øÈ÷, ¼¼±âÀÇ Àü¹Ý¿¡ ÀÚ¶ó³­ »ç¶÷À¸·Î¼­, ³»°¡ ±×°ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù; ³ª´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×°ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù°í ¸»ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖÀ» »ÓÀÌ´Ù. ÅðÆóÁÖÀÇÀÚµéÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇØ ³»°¡ ÀνÄÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÇÑ °¡Áö ÀÌÁ¡Àº ³»°¡ ÀνÄÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ Çö½Ã´ëÀÇ ¿¹¼úº¸´Ù ¾à°£ ¸¹Àº »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀÌÇØµÈ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

From the fact that I am accustomed to a certain exclusive art and understand it, while I do not understand a still more exclusive art, I have no right to conclude that this art, my art, is the most true art, and that the art I do not understand is not true and is bad; I can only conclude from it that art, as it has become more and more exclusive, has become more and more incomprehensible for a larger and larger number of people, and in this movement towards greater and greater incomprehensibility, one step of which I occupy with my accustomed art, it has reached a point where it is understood by a very small number of the elect, and that this number of the elect keeps getting smaller and smaller.

³»°¡ ¾î¶² ¹èŸÀû ¿¹¼ú¿¡ Àͼ÷ÇÏ¸ç ±×°ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇϸ鼭µµ, ÇÑÆíÀ¸·Î ÈξÀ ´õ ¹èŸÀûÀÎ ¿¹¼úÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â »ç½Ç¿¡¼­, ³ª´Â ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÌ, ³ªÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÌ, °¡Àå ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼úÀ̸ç, ³»°¡ ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â ¿¹¼úÀÌ ÂüµÇÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç ¾ÇÇÏ´Ù°í °á·Ð ³»¸± ±Ç¸®°¡ ¾ø´Ù; ³ª´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ ±×·ÎºÎÅÍ, ¿¹¼úÀÌ ´õ¿í ´õ ¹èŸÀûÀÌ µÊ¿¡ µû¶ó, ´õ¿í ´õ ¸¹Àº ¼öÀÇ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ´õ¿í ´õ ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø°Ô µÇ¾î ¹ö·È´Ù°í °á·Ð ³»¸± ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ´õ¿í ´õ ½ÉÇÑ ³­ÇؼºÀ» ÇâÇÑ ÀÌ·± ¿òÁ÷ÀÓ ¾È¿¡¼­, ³ª´Â ±× ÇÑ °ÉÀ½¿¡ ³»°¡ ÀûÀÀÇÑ ¿¹¼ú·Î ä¿ì°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ¿¹¼úÀº ¸Å¿ì ÀûÀº ¼öÀÇ ¼±ÅÃµÈ Àڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ ÀÌÇØµÇ´Â ÁöÁ¡¿¡ µµ´ÞÇßÀ¸¸ç, ¼±ÅÃµÈ ÀÌµé ¼ýÀÚ´Â Á¡Á¡ ´õ ÁÙ¾îµé°í ÀÖ´Ù.

As soon as the art of the upper classes became separated from the art of the whole people, there arose the conviction that art can be art and yet be incomprehensible to the masses. As soon as this thesis was allowed, it inevitably became necessary to allow that art may be comprehensible only to a small number of the elect, and, finally, only for two, or one — a best friend, one¡¯s own self. This is what modern artists say straight out: ¡®I create and I understand myself; if others do not understand me, so much the worse for them.¡¯

»ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÌ Àüü ´ëÁßµéÀÇ ¿¹¼ú·ÎºÎÅÍ ºÐ¸®µÇÀÚ¸¶ÀÚ, ¿¹¼úÀº ¿¹¼úÀÌ µÉ ¼ö ÀÖ°í ±×·³¿¡µµ ¹ÎÁߵ鿡°Ô ³­ÇØÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â ½Å³äÀÌ ¶°¿Ã¶ú´Ù. ÀÌ·± ÁÖÀåÀÌ Çã¿ëµÇÀÚ¸¶ÀÚ, ÇÊ¿¬ÀûÀ¸·Î ¿¹¼úÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ ¼±ÅÃµÈ ÀûÀº »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô¸¸ ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼öµµ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ¸¶Ä§³» ¿ÀÁ÷ µÑ ȤÀº Çϳª — °¡Àå ÁÁÀº Ä£±¸, ÀÚ±â ÀڽŠ— ¸¦ À§ÇÒ ¼öµµ ÀÖÀ½À» Çã¿ëÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù. À̰ÍÀÌ Çö´ë ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀÌ ´ÜµµÁ÷ÀÔÀûÀ¸·Î ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù: ' ³ª´Â âÁ¶ÇÑ´Ù ±×¸®°í ³ª´Â ÀÚ½ÅÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÑ´Ù; ¸¸ÀÏ Å¸ÀÎÀÌ ³ª¸¦ ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×¸¸Å­ ±×µéÀ» À§ÇØ ºÒÇàÇÑ ÀÏÀÌ´Ù.'

The assertion that art can be good art and yet be incomprehensible to a large number of people is so wrong, its consequences are so pernicious for art, and it is at the same time so widespread, so embedded in our notions, that no explanation of its utter incongruity can suffice.

¿¹¼úÀº ¼±ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀ̸鼭µµ ¸¹Àº »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ³­ÇØÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â ´ÜÁ¤Àº Ʋ¸° °ÍÀ̸ç, ±× °á°úµéÀº ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ¸Å¿ì ÇØ·Ó´Ù, ±×¸®°í ±×°ÍÀº µ¿½Ã¿¡ ³Ê¹«³ª ³Î¸® ÆÛÁ® ÀÖ°í, ³Ê¹«³ª ¿ì¸®ÀÇ °ü³äµé ¼Ó¿¡ ½É¾îÁ® À־ ±×°ÍÀÌ µµ¹«Áö ´çÄ¡ ¾ÊÀ½À» ¾Æ¹«¸® ¼³¸íÇØµµ ¸ðÀÚ¶ö °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

Nothing is more common than to hear said of alleged works of art that they are very good but very difficult to understand. We are used to the assertion, and yet to say that a work of art is good but incomprehensible is the same as saying of some kind of food that it is very good but people cannot eat it. People may not like rotten cheese, putrid grouse and other such dishes appreciated by gastronomes with perverted taste, but bread and fruit are only good when people like them. It is the same with art: perverted art may be incomprehensible to people, but good art is always understood by everyone.

¾î¶² ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀÌ ¸Å¿ì ÈǸ¢ÇÑ °ÍÀÌÁö¸¸ ÀÌÇØÇϱ⿡ ³Ê¹« ¾î·Æ´Ù°í ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» µè´Â °Íº¸´Ù ÈçÇÑ °ÍÀº ¾ø´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â ±×·± ÁÖÀåµé¿¡ Àͼ÷ÇØÁ® ÀÖ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¾î¶² ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀÌ ¼±ÇÏÁö¸¸ ÀÌÇØÇÏ±â ¾î·Æ´Ù°í ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¾î¶² Á¾·ùÀÇ À½½ÄÀÌ ¸Å¿ì ÈǸ¢ÇÏÁö¸¸ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×°ÍÀ» ¸ÔÀ» ¼ö ¾ø´Ù°í ¸»ÇÏ´Â °Í°ú ¶È°°´Ù. »ç¶÷µéÀº ½âÀº Ä¡Áî, ºÎÆÐÇÑ ²æ ±×¸®°í º¯ÁúµÈ ÃëÇâÀ» Áö´Ñ ¹Ì½Ä°¡µéÀÌ Áñ±â´Â ±×·± À½½ÄµéÀ» ÁÁ¾ÆÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù, ±×·¯³ª »§°ú °úÀÏÀº »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×°ÍµéÀ» ÁÁ¾ÆÇÒ ¶§ ºñ·Î¼­ À¯ÀÍÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­µµ ¸¶Âù°¡Áö´Ù: ¿Ö°îµÈ ¿¹¼úÀº »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ³­ÇØÇÒÁöµµ ¸ð¸¥´Ù, ±×·¯³ª ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀº ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÈ´Ù.

It is said that the best works of art are such that they cannot be understood by the majority and are accessible only to the elect, who are prepared to understand these great works. But if the majority do not understand, they must be given an explanation, the knowledge necessary for understanding. But it turns out that this knowledge does not exist, that the works cannot be explained, and therefore those who say that the majority do not understand good works of art give no explanations, but say that in order to understand one must read, look at, or listen to the same work over and over again. But this is not to explain, it is to make accustomed. And one can get accustomed to anything, even the worst. As it is possible to get people accustomed to rotten food, vodka, tobacco, opium, so it is possible to get them accustomed to bad art, which in fact is being done.

°¡Àå ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀº ±×·¯Çϱ⠶§¹®¿¡ ±×°ÍµéÀº ´ë´Ù¼ö »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç À̵é À§´ëÇÑ ÀÛǰµéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÒ Áغñ°¡ µÇ¾î ÀÖ´Â, ¿ÀÁ÷ ¼±ÅÃµÈ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô¸¸ °³¹æµÇ¾î ÀÖ´Ù°í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¸¸ÀÏ ´ë´Ù¼ö°¡ ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×µé¿¡°Ô ¼³¸í, Áï, ÀÌÇØ¿¡ ÇÊ¿äÇÑ Áö½ÄÀÌ, Á¦°ø µÇ¾î Á®¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ÀÌ·± Áö½ÄÀº Á¸ÀçÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ÀÛǰµéÀº ¼³¸íµÉ ¼ö ¾ø°í, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ´ë´Ù¼ö »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù°í ¸»ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀº ¾Æ¹«·± ¼³¸íµéÀ» ³»³õÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ÀÌÇØÇϱâ À§ÇØ ¶È °°Àº ÀÛǰÀ» µÇÇ®ÀÌ ÇØ¼­ Àаí, ÃÄ´Ùº¸°í, ȤÀº µé¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù°í ¸»Çϰí ÀÖÀ½ÀÌ µå·¯³­´Ù. ±×·¯³ª À̰ÍÀº ¼³¸íµÉ °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù, ±×°ÍÀº ÀûÀÀµÇ¾î Á®¾ß ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ¿ì¸®´Â ¹«¾ù¿¡µç, ½ÉÁö¾î ÃÖ¾ÇÀÇ °Íµé¿¡°í ÀûÀÀÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ½âÀº À½½Ä, º¸µåÄ«, ´ã¹è, ¾ÆÆí¿¡ ÀûÀÀÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °Íó·³, ±×µéÀ» ³ª»Û ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÀûÀÀµÇ°Ô ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ °¡´ÉÇϸç, ½ÇÁ¦·Î ±×·± ÀÏÀÌ ÀÌ·ç¾îÁö°í ÀÖ´Ù.

Besides, it cannot be said that the majority of people lack the taste to appreciate the highest works of art. The majority understand and have always understood what we, too, consider the highest art: the artistically simple narratives of the Bible, the Gospel parables, folk legends, fairy tales, folk songs are understood by everyone. Why is it that the majority suddenly lost the ability to understand the highest of our art?

´õ¿íÀÌ, ´ë´Ù¼ö »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀ» °¨»óÇÒ ÃëÇâÀÌ ºÎÁ·ÇÏ´Ù°í ¸»ÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù.´ë´Ù¼ö´Â ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿ª½Ã ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó°í ÀÌÇØÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇϸç ÀÌÇØÇÏ¿© ¿Ô´Ù: ¼º¼­ÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀûÀ¸·Î ´Ü¼øÇÑ À̾߱âµé, º¹À½¼­ÀÇ ºñÀ¯µé, ¹Î´ãµé, µ¿È­µé, ¹Î¿äµéÀº ¸ðµÎ¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÈ´Ù. ´ë´Ù¼ö »ç¶÷µéÀÌ °©Àڱ⠿츮ÀÇ ÃÖ°í ¿¹¼úÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ´É·ÂÀ» ÀÒ¾î ¹ö¸° ÀÌÀ¯´Â ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡?

One can say of speech that it is beautiful but incomprehensible to those who do not understand the language in which it is uttered. Speech uttered in Chinese may be beautiful and yet remain incompre¡©hensible to me if I do not know Chinese, but a work of art is distinguished from all other spiritual activity in that its language is understandable to everyone, that it infects everyone without distinction. The tears, the laughter of a Chinese will infect me in just the same way as the tears and laughter of a Russian, as will painting and music, or a work of poetry if it is translated into a language I understand. The song of a Kirghiz or a Japanese moves me, though not as much as it moves the Kirghiz or the Japanese themselves. So, too, I am moved by Japanese painting and Indian architecture and Arabian tales. If I am little moved by a Japanese song or a Chinese novel, it is not because I do not understand these works, but because I know and am accustomed to higher works of art, and by no means because this art is above me. Great works of art are great only because they are accessible and comprehensible to everyone. The story of Joseph, translated into Chinese, moves the Chinese. The story of Shakyamuni moves us. [82] The same is true of buildings, paintings, statues, music. And therefore, if art does not move us, one must not say that the cause is the spectator¡¯s or listener¡¯s incomprehension, but one can and must conclude that it is either bad art or not art at all.

¿ì¸®´Â ¾î¶² ¿¬¼³ÀÌ ¾Æ¸§´äÁö¸¸ ±×°ÍÀÌ ÇàÇØÁö´Â ¾ð¾î¸¦ ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù°í ¸»ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. Áß±¹¾î·Î ÇàÇØÁø ¿¬¼³Àº ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ï ¼ö ÀÖÁö¸¸ ³»°¡ Áß±¹¾î¸¦ ¸ð¸¥´Ù¸é ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀº ±× ¾ð¾î°¡ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀ» Â÷º° ¾øÀÌ Àü¿°½Ãų ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â Á¡¿¡¼­ ¸ðµç ´Ù¸¥ Á¤½ÅÀûÀΠȰµ¿°ú ±¸º°µÈ´Ù. ÇÑ Áß±¹ÀÎÀÇ ´«¹°, ¿ôÀ½Àº ÇÑ ·¯½Ã¾ÆÀÎÀÌ ´«¹° ¹× ¿ôÀ½°ú ¶È °°ÀÌ ³ª¸¦ Àü¿°½Ãų °ÍÀ̸ç, ¹Ì¼ú, À½¾Ç, ȤÀº ½Ã ÀÛǰµµ ±×°ÍÀÌ ³»°¡ ÀÌÇØÇÏ´Â ¾ð¾î·Î ¹ø¿ªµÈ´Ù¸é ¸¶Âù°¡Áö ÀÏ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ۸£±âÁîÀΠȤÀº ÀϺ»ÀÎÀÇ ³ë·¡°¡ ±×µé ½º½º·Î¸¦ °¨µ¿½ÃŰ´Â ¸¸Å­Àº ¾Æ´Ï´õ¶óµµ ³ª¸¦ °¨µ¿½ÃŲ´Ù. ±×·¡¼­, ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î, ³ª´Â ÀϺ» ¹Ì¼ú ±×¸®°í Àεµ °ÇÃà ¹× ¾Æ¶óºñ¾Æ À̾߱âµé·Î °¨µ¿ ¹Þ´Â´Ù. ¸¸ÀÏ ³»°¡ ÀϺ» ³ë·¡ ȤÀº Áß±¹ ¼Ò¼³·Î Àû°Ô °¨µ¿ ¹Þ´Â´Ù¸é, ³»°¡ À̵é ÀÛǰµéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇؼ­°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ³»°¡ ´õ ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀ» ¾Ë°í Àͼ÷ÇØ Àֱ⠶§¹®À̸ç, °áÄÚ ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ³ª¸¦ ´É°¡Çؼ­°¡ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. À§´ëÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀº ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ¿ÀÁ÷ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷ÀÌ ÀÌ¿ëÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö Àֱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ¿ä¼ÁÀÇ À̾߱â´Â Áß±¹¾î·Î ¹ø¿ªµÇ¾î Áß±¹ÀεéÀ» °¨µ¿½ÃŲ´Ù. ¼®°¡¸ð´ÏÀÇ À̾߱â´Â ¿ì¸®¸¦ °¨µ¿½ÃŲ´Ù. °ÇÃàµé, ±×¸²µé, Á¶°¢µé, À½¾Ç¿¡¼­µµ µ¿ÀÏÇÏ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¿ì¸®¸¦ °¨µ¿½ÃŰÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù¸é, ¿øÀÎÀÌ °üÁß, ȤÀº ûÃëÀÚÀÇ ¸ôÀÌÇØ¶ó°í ¸»Çؼ­´Â ¾È µÇ¸ç, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±×°ÍÀÌ ³ª»Û ¿¹¼úÀ̰ųª ÀüÇô ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó°í °á·Ð ³»¸± ¼ö Àְųª °á·Ð ³»·Á¾ß ÇÑ´Ù.

The difference between art and mental activity, which requires preparation and a certain sequence of learning (so that one cannot teach trigonometry to someone who does not know geometry), is precisely that art affects people independently of their degree of development and education, that the charm of a picture, of sounds, of images infects any man, on whatever level of development he may stand.

¿¹¼ú°ú Á¤½ÅÀû Ȱµ¿ÀÇ Â÷ÀÌ´Â Á¤È®È÷, ÈÄÀÚ´Â Áغñ ¹× ƯÁ¤ÇÑ ÀÏ·ÃÀÇ ÇнÀÀ» ¿ä±¸Çϸç (±×·¡¼­ ¿ì¸®´Â ±âÇϸ¦ ¸ð¸£´Â ¾î¶² »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô »ï°¢¹ýÀ» °¡¸£Ä¥ ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç), ¿¹¼úÀº »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¹ß´Þ ¹× ±³À° Á¤µµ¿Í º°µµ·Î ±×µé¿¡°Ô ¿µÇâÀ» ¹ÌÄ¡¸ç, ƯÁ¤ ±×¸²ÀÇ, ¼Ò¸®µéÀÇ, ¿µ»óµéÀÇ ¸Å·ÂÀº ¸ðµç »ç¶÷À» Àü¿°½Ã۸ç, ±×°¡ ¾î¶² ¹ß´Þ ´Ü°è¿¡ À§Ä¡ÇÏµç ¸¶Âù°¡Áö´Ù.

The business of art consists precisely in making understandable and accessible that which might be incomprehensible and inaccessible in the form of reasoning. Usually, when a person receives a truly artistic impression, it seems to him that he knew it all along, only he was unable to express it.

¿¹¼ú ÀÛ¾÷Àº Á¤È®È÷ ÀÚÄ© Ãß·ÐÀÇ ÇüÅ·ΠÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾ø°Å³ª ÀÌ¿ëµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Â °ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ°í ÀÌ¿ëµÉ ¼ö ÀÖµµ·Ï ¸¸µå´Â Á¡¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù. ÀϹÝÀûÀ¸·Î, ¾î¶² »ç¶÷ÀÌ ÁøÁ¤ ¿¹¼úÀûÀÎ ÀλóÀ» ¹Þ¾Ò´Ù¸é, ±×°¡ ±×°ÍÀ» óÀ½ºÎÅÍ ¾Ë¾ÒÀ¸¸ç ´ÜÁö ±×°ÍÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú´Ù°í ±×¿¡°Ô ´À²¸Áö´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

And the best, the highest art has always been so: the lliad, the Odyssey, the stories of Jacob, Isaac, and Joseph, the Hebrew prophets, the Psalms, the Gospel parables, and the story of Shakyamuni, and the Vedic hymns [83] — all convey very lofty feelings, and in spite of that are fully understandable to us now, to the educated and the uneducated, and were understood by people of their own time, who were still less educated than our own working people. They talk of incomprehensibility. But if art is the conveying of feelings that arise from a people¡¯s religious consciousness, how can a feeling based on religion — that is, on man¡¯s relation to God — be incomprehensible? Such art must be, and indeed has always been, understandable to everyone, because each man¡¯s relation to God is always the same. And therefore temples, and the images and singing in them, have always been understandable to everyone. The obstacle to understanding the best and highest feelings, as is also said in the Gospel, by no means lies in an absence of development and education, but, on the contrary, in false development and false education. A good and lofty artistic work may indeed be incomprehensible, only not to simple, unperverted working people (they understand all that is lofty) — no, but a true artistic work may be and often is incomprehensible to highly educated, perverted, religion-deprived people, as constantly occurs in our society, where people find the highest religious feelings simply incomprehensible. I know people, for example, who consider themselves most refined, and who say that they do not understand the poetry of love for one¡¯s neighbor and of self-denial, or the poetry of chastity.

±×¸®°í °¡Àå ¼±ÇÑ, ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº ¾ðÁ¦³ª ±×·¨´Ù: Àϸ®¾Æµå, ¿Àµ÷¼¼ÀÌ, ¾ß°ö, ÀÌ»è, ¹× ¿ä¼Á À̾߱âµé, È÷ºê¸® ¼±ÁöÀÚµé, ½ÃÆí, º¹À½¼­ÀÇ ºñÀ¯µé, ±×¸®°í ¼®°¡¸ð´ÏÀÇ À̾߱â, ±×¸®°í º£´ÙÀÇ Âù¾çµé — ¸ðµÎ°¡ ¸Å¿ì ¼þ°íÇÑ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇϸç, ±×·³¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí ÇöÀç ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô, ¹è¿î ÀÚµç ¸ø ¹è¿î ÀÚ¿¡°Ôµç, ÃæºÐÈ÷ ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±×µé ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ½Ã´ëÀÇ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÇ¾úÀ¸¸ç, ±×µéÀº ¿ì¸® ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéº¸´Ù ÈξÀ ´ú ±³À°¹ÞÀº »ç¶÷µéÀ̾ú´Ù. ±×µéÀº ³­ÇؼºÀ» ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¸¸ÀÏ ¿¹¼úÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ Á¾±³Àû ÀǽĿ¡¼­ ¼Ú¾Æ ³ª¿À´Â ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ̶ó¸é, ¾îÂîÇÏ¿© Á¾±³¿¡ — Áï, ½Å¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÇ °ü°è À§¿¡ — ±âÃʸ¦ µÐ ´À³¦ÀÌ ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾ø°Ú´Â°¡? ±×·¯ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀº Ʋ¸²¾øÀÌ ´©±¸¿¡°Ô³ª ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ¾î¾ß ÇÏ¸ç »ç½Ç ¾ðÁ¦³ª ±×·¡¿Ô´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ½Å¿¡ ´ëÇÑ  Á¦°¢±â »ç¶÷ÀÇ °ü°è´Â ¾ðÁ¦³ª µ¿ÀÏÇϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î »ç¿øµé, ±×¸®°í ±× ¾ÈÀÇ ¿µ»óµé ¹× ³ë·¡ÇÔÀº ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¸ðµÎ¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ¾î ¿Ô´Ù. ÃÖ¼±ÀÇ ±×¸®°í ÃÖ°íÀÇ ´À³¦µéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÔ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ À庮Àº, ¶ÇÇÑ º¹À½¼­¿¡¼­ ¸»Çϰí ÀÖµíÀÌ, °áÄÚ ¹ßÀü ¹× ±³À°ÀÇ °á¿©¿¡ ³õ¿© ÀÖÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç, ¹Ý´ë·Î °ÅÁþµÈ ¹ßÀü ¹× °ÅÁþµÈ ±³À°¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù. ¼±ÇÏ¸ç ¼þ°íÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀº »ç½Ç ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼öµµ ÀÖÁö¸¸, ´Ü¼øÇϸç, Ÿ¶ôµÇÁö ¾ÊÀº ³ëµ¿ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô´Â ¾Æ´Ï´Ù (±×µéÀº ¼þ°íÇÑ ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÑ´Ù) — ¾ÊÀ» ¼öµµ ÀÖ´Ù, ±×·¯³ª ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀº °íµµ·Î ±³À°¹Þ¾ÒÀ¸¸ç, Ÿ¶ôÇÑ, Á¾±³¸¦ ÀÒÀº »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÇÁö ¾ÊÀ» ¼öµµ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç Á¾Á¾ ÀÌÇØµÇÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù, ÀÌ´Â ¿ì¸® »çȸ¿¡¼­ ºÎ´ÜÈ÷ ÀϾ´Â °ÍÀ̸ç, »ç¶÷µéÀº  ÃÖ°íÀÇ Á¾±³Àû ´À³¦µéÀ» ´Ü¼øÈ÷ ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù.

Thus, good, great, universal, religious art may be incomprehensible only for a small circle of perverted people, but not otherwise.

±×·¡¼­, ¼±ÇÑ, ÈǸ¢ÇÑ, º¸ÆíÀû, Á¾±³Àû ¿¹¼úÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ Á¶±×¸¸ ¹üÁÖÀÇ Å¸¶ôÇÑ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô³ª ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç, ±× ¹Ý´ë´Â ¾Æ´Ï´Ù.

It is impossible that art can be incomprehensible to the great masses only because it is very good, as artists of our time like to say. One should rather suppose that the great masses do not understand art only because this art is very bad, or even is not art at all. So that the most beloved argument naively accepted by the cultivated mob, according to which, in order to feel art, one must understand it (which, in fact, merely means get accustomed to it), is the surest sign that what is offered to our understanding in this way is either very bad, exclusive art, or is not art at all.

¿¹¼úÀÌ, ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀÌ Áñ°Ü ¸»Çϵí, ±×°ÍÀÌ ³Ê¹«³ª ¼±Çϱ⠶§¹®¿¡ ´ë´Ù¼ö ÀÏ¹Ý ´ëÁß¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾øÀ» ¼öµµ ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀº ºÒ°¡´ÉÇÏ´Ù. ¿ÀÈ÷·Á ¿ì¸®´Â ´ë´Ù¼ö ÀÏ¹Ý ´ëÁßÀÌ ÀÌ·± ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¸Å¿ì ¾ÇÇϰųª, ½ÉÁö¾î ÀüÇô ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï±â ¶§¹®¿¡ ¿ÀÁ÷ ¿¹¼úÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¸øÇÑ´Ù°í °¡Á¤ÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© ¼øÁøÇϰԵµ ±³¾ç ÀÖ´Â ¹«¸®µé¿¡°Ô ¼ö¿ëµÇ´Â °¡Àå ¾Ö¿ëµÇ´Â ³í¸®´Â, ¿¹¼úÀ» ´À³¢±â À§ÇØ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¹Ýµå½Ã ±×°ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, ¿ì¸®°¡ ÀÌÇØÇϵµ·Ï ÀÌ·¸°Ô Á¦°øµÇ´Â °ÍÀº ¸Å¿ì ¾ÇÇÑ, ¹èŸÀû ¿¹¼úÀ̰ųª, ȤÀº ÀüÇô ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¾Æ´ÔÀÇ °¡Àå È®½ÇÇÑ Áõ°ÅÀÌ´Ù.

They say the people do not like works of art because they are unable to understand them. But if the work of art has the aim of infecting people with the feeling experienced by the artist, how then can we speak of incomprehension?

±×µéÀº ¸»ÇÑ´Ù, ¹ÎÁßÀÌ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø±â ¶§¹®¿¡ ±×°ÍµéÀ» ÁÁ¾ÆÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¸¸ÀÏ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀÌ ¿¹¼ú°¡¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °æÇèµÈ ´À³¦À¸·Î »ç¶÷µéÀ» Àü¿°½ÃÅ´ÀÌ ¸ñÀûÀ̶ó¸é, ¾îÂîÇÏ¿© ¿ì¸®´Â ¸ôÀÌÇØ¸¦ ¸»ÇÒ ¼ö Àִ°¡?

A man of the people reads a book, looks at a painting, listens to a drama or a symphony, and feels nothing. He is told that that is because he does not know how to understand it. They promise to show a man a certain spectacle — he comes in and sees nothing. He is told that that is because his sight has not been prepared for this spectacle. But the man knows that he can see everything perfectly well. And if he does not see what they promised to show him, he merely concludes (quite correctly) that those who undertook to show him the spectacle did not fulfill their undertaking. In the same way, and quite correctly, a man of the people draws conclusions about the works of art of our society, which do not call up any feelings in him. And therefore, to say that a man is not moved by my art because he is still very stupid, which is both very presumptuous and very brazen, is to pervert the roles and shift the blame from the sick head to the sound.

¹ÎÁßÀÇ ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ Ã¥À» Àд´Ù, ±×¸²À» ¹Ù¶óº»´Ù, ¿¬±ØÀ̳ª ±³Çâ°îÀ» ûÃëÇÑ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ¾Æ¹« °Íµµ ´À³¢Áö ¸øÇÑ´Ù. ±×´Â ±× ÀÌÀ¯°¡ ±×°¡ ±×°ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¹æ¹ýÀ» ¸ð¸£±â ¶§¹®À̶ó°í µè´Â´Ù. ±×µéÀº ¾î¶² »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ƯÁ¤ÇÑ ±¸°æ°Å¸®¸¦ º¸¿© ÁÖ°Ú³ë¶ó°í ¾à¼ÓÇÑ´Ù — ±×°¡ µé¾î ¿Â´Ù ±×¸®°í ¾Æ¹« °Íµµ º¸Áö ¸øÇÑ´Ù. ±×´Â ±× ÀÌÀ¯°¡ ±×ÀÇ ½Ã·ÂÀÌ ÀÌ·± ±¸°æ°Å¸®¸¦ À§ÇØ ÁغñµÇÁö ¾Ê¾Ò±â ¶§¹®À̶ó µè´Â´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ±× »ç¶÷Àº ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» Áö±ØÈ÷ ÈǸ¢È÷ º¼ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ¾È´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¸¸ÀÏ ±×°¡ ±×µéÀÌ ±×¿¡°Ô º¸¿© ÁÖ°Ú´Ù°í ¾à¼ÓÇÑ °ÍÀ» º¸Áö ¸øÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×´Â ´Ü¼øÈ÷ (¸Å¿ì Á¤È®ÇϰÔ)  ±× ±¸°æ°Å¸®¸¦ º¸¿© ÁÖ±â·Î ÇÑ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×µéÀÇ Ã¥ÀÓÀ» ´ÙÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù°í °á·Ð ³»¸°´Ù. ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î, ±×¸®°í ¸Å¿ì Á¤È®ÇϰÔ, ¹ÎÁßÀÇ ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ ¿ì¸® »çȸÀÇ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé¿¡ ´ëÇØ °á·ÐÀ» ³»¸®¸ç, ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ±× ¾È¿¡¼­ ¾î¶² ´À³¦µéµµ ºÒ·¯ ¿ÀÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ¾î¶² »ç¶÷ÀÌ ±×°¡ ¾ÆÁ÷ ¸Å¿ì ¸ÛûÇϱ⠶§¹®¿¡ ³ªÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °¨µ¿ ¹ÞÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù°í ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº, ¸Å¿ì »·»·½º·¯¿ï »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ¸Å¿ì ö¸éÇÇÇÑ °ÍÀ¸·Î, ¿ªÇÒÀ» ¿Ö°î½ÃÄѼ­ ºñ³­À» ¾ÆÇ ¸Ó¸®¿¡¼­ ¼Ò¸®·Î µ¹¸®´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

Voltaire said, ¡®Tous les genres sont bons, hors Ie genre ennuyeux.¡¯ With still greater right one may say about art, ¡®Tous les genres sont bons, hors celui qu¡¯on ne comprend pas¡¯, or ¡®qui ne produit pas son effet¡¯, [84] for what virtue is there in an object that does not do what it is meant to do?

º¼Å׸£´Â ÀÌ·¸°Ô ¸»Çß´Ù, '¸ðµç À帣´Â À¯ÀÍÇϸç, ´ÜÁö Áö·çÇÑ À帣´Â ¿¹¿ÜÀÌ´Ù.' ÈξÀ ¶Ù¾î³­ Á¤È®ÇÏ°Ô ¿ì¸®´Â ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¸»ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù, '¸ðµç À帣´Â À¯ÀÍÇÏ´Ù, ´Ü ÀÌÇØµÇÁö ¾Ê´Â °Í" ȤÀº '¿µÇâÀ» ¹ÌÄ¡Áö ¸øÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¿¹¿Ü´Ù,' ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé ÇàÇϰíÀÚ ÀǵµÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ÇàÇÏÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â ¹°°Ç¿¡ ¹«½¼ °¡Ä¡°¡ ÀÖÀ¸·ª?À̱⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

But the main thing is that, once we allow that art can be art while being incomprehensible to certain people of sound mind, there is then no reason why some circle of perverted people should not create works that titillate their perverted feelings and are incomprehensible to anyone except themselves, and call these works art, which in fact is now being done by the so-called decadents.

±×·¯³ª Áß¿äÇÑ Á¡Àº, ÀÏ´Ü ¿ì¸®°¡ °ÇÀüÇÑ Á¤½ÅÀ» Áö´Ñ ƯÁ¤ÇÑ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾øÀ½¿¡µµ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó°í Çã¿ëÇÑ´Ù¸é, ÀϺΠ¹üÁÖÀÇ Å¸¶ôÇÑ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×µéÀÇ Å¸¶ôÇÑ ´À³¦µéÀ» ÀÚ±ØÇØ ÁÖ°í, ±×µé ÀڽŵéÀ» Á¦¿ÜÇÑ ¾î´À ´©±¸¿¡°Ôµµ ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ÀÛǰµéÀ» ¸¸µé¸ç, ÀÌ·± ÀÛǰµéÀ» ¿¹¼úÀ̶ó°í ºÒ·¯¼­´Â ¾ÈµÉ ÀÌÀ¯°¡ ¾ø´Ù, ±×¸®°í »ç½Ç ÀÌ·± ÀϵéÀº ¼ÒÀ§ ÅðÆóÁÖÀÇÀڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ Áö±Ý ÇàÇØÁö°í ÀÖ´Ù.

The course art has been taking may be likened to placing on a circle of large diameter circles of smaller and smaller diameters, thus forming a cone the tip of which ceases to be a circle at all. This very thing has happened with the art of our time.

¿¹¼úÀÌ ÃëÇϰí ÀÖ¾ú´ø °úÁ¤Àº Ä¿´Ù¶õ Áö¸§ÀÇ ¿ø À§¿¡ Á¡Á¡ ÀÛÀº Áö¸§µéÀÇ ¿øµéÀ» ³õ¾Æ¼­, ³¡ÀÌ ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ¿øÀÌ µÇ´Â °ÍÀ» Áß´ÜÇØ ¹ö¸®´Â ¿ø»ÔÀ» Çü¼ºÇÏ´Â °Í¿¡ ºñ°ßµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. ¹Ù·Î ÀÌ·± ÀÏÀÌ ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ¹ß»ýÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
¡¡ ¡¡

XI

¡¡ ¡¡

Becoming ever poorer in content and ever more incomprehensible in form, art in its latest manifestations has even lost all the properties of art and has been replaced by simulacra of art.

³»¿ëÀº ²÷ÀÓ¾øÀÌ ÀúÁúÀÌ µÇ¾î°¡°í Çü½Äµµ ²÷ÀÓ¾øÀÌ ³­ÇØÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾î °¡¸é¼­, °¡Àå ÃÖ±Ù¿¡ Ç¥ÇöµÇ°í ÀÖ´Â ¿¹¼úÀº ½ÉÁö¾î ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ðµç Ư¼ºµéÀ» ÀÒ°í¼­ ¿¹¼ú°ú À¯»çÇÑ °Íµé·Î ´ëüµÇ¾î ¹ö·È´Ù.

As if it were not enough that, owing to its separation from the art of the whole people, the art of the upper classes became poor in content and bad in form — that is, more and more incomprehensible — this art has in the course of time even ceased to be art and has come to be replaced by counterfeits of art.

Àüü ¹ÎÁßµéÀÇ ¿¹¼ú·ÎºÎÅÍ ºÐ¸®µÊ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ, »ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº ³»¿ë¿¡¼± ÀúÁú·Î ±×¸®°í Çü½Ä¿¡¼± ³ª»Ú°Ô — Áï, Á¡Á¡ ´õ ³­ÇØÇÏ°Ô — µÈ °ÍÀ¸·Î ÃæºÐÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀº µí, ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀº ½Ã°£ÀÌ °¡¸é¼­ ½ÉÁö¾î ¿¹¼úÀ̱⸦ Áß´ÜÇÏ°í ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ðÁ¶Ç°µé·Î ´ëüµÇ´Â Áö°æ¿¡ À̸£·¶´Ù.

This has happened for the following reasons. Art of the whole people emerges only when a man of the people, having experienced a strong feeling, has need of conveying it to others. Art of the wealthy classes emerges, not because of any need in the artist, but mostly because people of the upper classes demand amusements, which are very well remunerated. People of the wealthy classes demand that art convey feelings pleasing to them, and artists try to satisfy these demands. But to satisfy these demands is very difficult, since the people of the wealthy classes, leading a life of idleness and luxury, demand continuous amusement from art, while it is impossible to produce art at will, even of the lowest sort — it must be born of itself in the artist. And therefore, in order to satisfy the demands of upper-class people, artists had to develop methods by which they could produce objects simulating art. And these methods were developed.

À̰ÍÀº ´ÙÀ½ÀÇ ÀÌÀ¯µé·Î ¹ß»ýÇß´Ù. Àüü ¹ÎÁßÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ ¹ÎÁßÀÇ ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ, °­·ÄÇÑ ´À³¦À» °æÇèÇÏ°í¼­, ±×°ÍÀ» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞÇÒ Çʿ並 °¡Áú ¶§ ³ªÅ¸³­´Ù. ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀº, ¿¹¼ú°¡¿¡ À־ ¾î¶² ÇÊ¿ä ¶§¹®ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ´ëüÀûÀ¸·Î »ó·ù °è±ÞÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¿À¶ôµéÀ» ¿ä±¸Çϸç, º¸¼ö°¡ ÈÄÇϱ⠶§¹®¿¡ ³ªÅ¸³­´Ù. ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ °è±ÞµéÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀº ¿¹¼úÀÌ ±×µé¿¡°Ô Áñ°Å¿î ´À³¦µéÀ» ÀüÇØÁÙ °Í°ú, ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀÌ À̵éÀÇ ¿ä±¸µéÀ» ¸¸Á·½ÃÄÑÁÖ±â À§ÇØ ³ë·ÂÇÒ °ÍÀ» ¿ä±¸ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª À̵éÀÇ ¿ä±¸µéÀ» ¸¸Á·½ÃŰ´Â °ÍÀº ¸Å¿ì ¾î·Æ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ºÎÀ¯ÇÑ °è±ÞµéÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀº, ½ÉÁö¾î °¡Àå ÀúÁú½º·¯¿î Á¾·ù¶óµµ,  — Ʋ¸²¾øÀÌ ¿¹¼ú°¡ ¾È¿¡¼­ ÀÚ¿¬È÷ ž °ÍÀÌ´Ù ¿¹¼úÀ» ÀÚÀ¯ÀÚÀç·Î »ý»êÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ºÒ°¡´ÉÇÑ ÆíÀε¥µµ, °ÔÀ¸¸£°í »çÄ¡½º·± »îÀ» ¿µÀ§Çϸ鼭, ¿¹¼ú·ÎºÎÅÍ Áö¼ÓÀûÀÎ ¿À¶ôÀ» ¿ä±¸Çϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, »ó·ù °è±Þ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ¿ä±¸µéÀ» ¸¸Á·½Ã۱â À§ÇÏ¿©, ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀº ¿¹¼úÀ» Èä³» ³»´Â ¹°°ÇµéÀ» »ý»êÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ¹æ¹ýµéÀ» °³¹ßÇØ¾ß¸¸ Çß´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÀÌµé ¹æ¹ýµéÀº °³¹ßµÇ¾ú´Ù.

These methods are: (l) borrowing, (2) imitation, (3) effectfulness, and (4) diversion.

ÀÌµé ¹æ¹ýµéÀº ´ÙÀ½°ú °°´Ù: (1) Â÷¿ë, (2) ¸ð¹æ, (3) È¿°ú, ±×¸®°í (4) Àüȯ.

The first consists in borrowing either whole subjects or only separate features from earlier, well-known poetic works and so reworking them that, with some additions, they represent something new. Such works of art, evoking memories of previously experienced artistic feelings in people belonging to a certain circle, produce an impression similar to that of art, and pass for art among those who seek pleasure from art, if some other necessary conditions are satisfied at the same time. Subjects borrowed from earlier works of art are usually called poetic subjects. Objects and characters borrowed from earlier works of art are called poetic objects. Thus, in our circle, all sorts of legends, sagas and old tales are regarded as poetic subjects. Poetic characters and objects include maidens, war¡©riors, shepherds, hermits, angels, devils in all forms, moonlight, thunderstorms, mountains, the sea, precipices, flowers, long hair, lions, the lamb, the dove, the nightingale; all objects used by earlier artists in their works are generally considered poetic.

ù°´Â °ú°ÅÀÇ, Àß ¾Ë·ÁÁø ½Ã ÀÛǰµé·ÎºÎÅÍ Àüü ÁÖÁ¦µé ȤÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ º°µµÀÇ Æ¯Â¡µéÀ» ºô·Á¿Í Àç°¡°øÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ̸ç, ¾à°£¾¿ ÷°¡ÇÏ¿© ±×µéÀº ¾î¶² »õ·Î¿î °ÍÀ» º¸¿©ÁØ´Ù. ±×·± ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀº, ƯÁ¤ÇÑ ¹üÁÖ¿¡ ¼ÓÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µé ¾È¿¡ °ú°Å¿¡ °æÇèÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀû ´À³¦µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±â¾ïµéÀ» ºÒ·¯ ³»¾î, ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰ°ú ºñ½ÁÇÑ ÀλóÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»¸ç, µ¿½Ã¿¡ ¾î¶² ´Ù¸¥ ÇÊ¿äÁ¶°ÇµéÀÌ ÃæÁ·µÈ´Ù¸é, ¿¹¼ú·ÎºÎÅÍ Äè¶ôÀ» Ãß±¸ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µé »çÀÌ¿¡ ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©°ÜÁø´Ù. ÀÌÀü ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé·ÎºÎÅÍ Â÷¿ëÇÑ ÁÖÁ¦µéÀº ÁÖ·Î ½ÃÀû ÁÖÁ¦µéÀÌ´Ù. °ú°ÅÀÇ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé·ÎºÎÅÍ Â÷¿ëµÈ ´ë»óµé ¹× Àι°µéÀº ½ÃÀû ´ë»óµé·Î ºÒ¸°´Ù. ±×·¡¼­, ¿ì¸® ÁÖº¯¿¡¼­ ¸ðµç Á¾·ùÀÇ Àü¼³µé, ¿µ¿õ´ãµé ¹× ¿¾³¯À̾߱âµéÀº ½ÃÀû ÁÖÁ¦µé·Î ¿©°ÜÁø´Ù. ½ÃÀû Àι°µé ¹× ´ë»óµéÀº ó³àµé, Àü»çµé, ¾çÄ¡±âµé, ÀºµÐÀÚµé, õ»çµé, ¸ðµç ÇüÅÂÀÇ ¾Ç¸¶µé, ´Þºû, õµÕ¼Ò¸®µé, »êµé, ¹Ù´Ù, Àýº®µé, ±ä¸Ó¸®, »çÀÚµé, ¾ç, ºñµÑ±â, ³ªÀÌÆÃ°ÔÀÏÀ» Æ÷ÇÔÇÑ´Ù; °ú°ÅÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ±×µéÀÇ ÀÛǰµé ¾È¿¡ »ç¿ëµÈ ¸ðµç ´ë»óµéÀº ÀϹÝÀûÀ¸·Î ½ÃÀûÀÌ¶ó ¿©°ÜÁø´Ù.

About forty years ago a lady (since deceased), not very intelligent but highly civilized, ayant beaucoup d¡¯acquis, [85] invited me to listen to a novel she had written. The action began with the heroine in a poetic forest, by the waterside, in a poetic white dress, with poetically loose hair, reading poetry. It was set in Russia, and suddenly from behind the bushes the hero appeared in a hat with a feather à a Guillaume Tell (so it was written), and with two poetic white dogs accompanying him. It seemed to the author that this was all very poetic. Everything would have been well, however, if the hero had not needed to speak: but as soon as the gentleman in the hat à la Guillaume Tell started talking with the girl in the white dress, it became obvious that the author had nothing to say, that she was moved by poetic memories of earlier works and thought that by rummaging through these memories she could produce an artistic impression. But an artistic impression is an infection, it works only when the author has himself experienced some feeling and conveys it in his own way, not when he conveys someone else¡¯s feeling as it was conveyed to him. This sort of poetry out of poetry cannot infect people, and only produces the simulacrum of a work of art, and that only for people with perverted aesthetic taste. The lady was very stupid and untalented, and therefore one could see at once how things were; but when such borrowings are undertaken by well-read and talented people, with a developed artistic technique besides, the results are those borrowings from the Greek, the antique, the Christian, and the mythological world, which have multiplied so greatly and, especially now, continue to appear in large numbers, and which the public takes for works of art, if the borrowings are nicely presented by means of the technique of the art to which they belong.

»ç½Ê¿© ³â Àü ¾î¶² ºÎÀÎÀÌ (±× ÈÄ »ç¸ÁÇÏ¿´À½), Áö±ØÈ÷ ÁöÀûÀº ¾Æ´ÏÁö¸¸ »ó´çÈ÷ ±³¾ç ÀÖ°í, »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¸¹Àº °æÇèÀ» Áö´Ñ »ç¶÷À¸·Î, ±×³à°¡ ¾´ ¾î¶²  ¼Ò¼³À» µé¾îº¸µµ·Ï ³ª¸¦ ÃÊûÇß´Ù. ÁٰŸ®´Â ¾î¶² ½ÃÀûÀÎ ½£ ¼Ó, ¹°°¡¿¡¼­, ½ÃÀûÀÎ ÀÇ»óÀ» µÎ¸£°í, ½ÃÀûÀ¸·Î È帣´Â ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ô¿¡, ½Ã¸¦ Àд ¿©ÁÖÀΰø°ú ÇÔ²² ½ÃÀ۵Ǿú´Ù. Àå¼Ò´Â ·¯½Ã¾Æ¿´À¸¸ç, °©Àڱ⠴ýºÒ µÚ¿¡¼­ ÁÖÀΰøÀÌ Àª¸®¾öÅÚ Ç³ÀÇ (±×·¸°Ô ¾²¿© ÀÖ¾ú´Ù) ±êÅÐÀ» ²ÈÀº ¸ðÀÚ¸¦ ¾²°í ³ªÅ¸³µÀ¸¸ç, µÎ ¸¶¸®ÀÇ ½ÃÀûÀÎ ÇÏ¾á °­¾ÆÁöµéÀÌ ±×¸¦ µû¸£°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ÀÛ°¡¿¡°Ô À־ À̰ÍÀº ¸ðµÎ ³Ê¹«³ª ½ÃÀûÀÎ °Íó·³ º¸¿´´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸, ¸ðµç °ÍÀº Àß ³ª°¬À» °ÍÀÌ´Ù, ¸¸ÀÏ ÁÖÀΰøÀÌ ¸»ÇÒ Çʿ䰡 ¾ø¾ú´Ù¸é: ±×·¯³ª Àª¸®¾öÅÚ Ç³ÀÇ ¸ðÀÚ¸¦ ¾´ ½Å»ç°¡ ÇÏ¾á ¿ÊÀ» ÀÔÀº ¿©ÀÚ¿Í ¸»Çϱ⠽ÃÀÛÇÏÀÚ ¸¶ÀÚ, ÀÛ°¡´Â ¾Æ¹« ÇÒ ¸»ÀÌ ¾øÀ½ÀÌ ¸í¹éÇØÁ³À¸¸ç, ±×³à´Â °ú°Å ÀÛǰµéÀÇ ½ÃÀûÀÎ Ãß¾ïµé·Î °¨µ¿ ¹Þ¾ÒÀ¸¸ç ÀÌ·± Ãß¾ïµéÀ» ÇìÁý°í ´Ù´ÔÀ¸·Î½á ±×³à´Â ¿¹¼úÀû °¨¸íÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³¾ ¼ö ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¿¹¼úÀû °¨¸íÀº ÀÏÁ¾ÀÇ Àü¿°À¸·Î¼­, ¿ÀÁ÷ ÀÛ°¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ ¾î¶² ´À³¦À» °æÇèÇÏ°í ±×°ÍÀ» ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¹æ½ÄÀ¸·Î Àü´ÞÇÒ ¶§¿¡ ÀÛ¿ëÇϸç, ±×¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞµÈ ´Ù¸¥ ¾î¶² »ç¶÷ÀÇ ´À³¦À» Àü´ÞÇÒ ¶§´Â ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. ÀÌ·± ·ùÀÇ ½ÃÁ¤À» ÅëÇÑ ½ÃÁ¤Àº »ç¶÷µéÀ» Àü¿°½Ãų ¼ö ¾ø´Ù, ±×¸®°í ¿ÀÁ÷ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀÇ ¸ðÁ¶Ç°À» »ý»êÇϸç, ±×°ÍÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ Ÿ¶ôÇÑ ¹ÌÀû ÃëÇâÀ» Áö´Ñ »ç¶÷µéÀ» À§ÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±× ºÎÀÎÀº ³Ê¹«³ª ¸ÛûÇϰí Àç´Éµµ ¾ø¾ú´Ù, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î »ç¶÷µéÀº ´çÀå ¾î¶² ³»¿ëÀÎÁö ¾Ë ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù; ±×·¯³ª ±×·± Â÷¿ëµéÀÌ ¹Ú½ÄÇϸç Àç´É ÀÖ´Â, °Ô´Ù°¡ °³¹ßµÈ ¿¹¼úÀû ±â¼úµéÀ» Áö´Ñ »ç¶÷µé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ÀÌ·ç¾îÁú ¶§, °á°úµéÀº ±×¸®½º, °í´ë, ±×¸®½ºµµ±³, ±×¸®°í ½ÅÈ­ ¼¼°è·ÎºÎÅÍ Â÷¿ëÇÏ°Ô µÇ¸ç, ±×°ÍµéÀº ¾öû³ª°Ô Áõ´ëµÇ¾î, Ưº°È÷ ÇöÀç¿¡ À־, ´Ù·®À¸·Î ³ªÅ¸³ª¸ç, ¸¸ÀÏ Â÷¿ëÇÑ °ÍµéÀÌ ÇØ´ç ¿¹¼úÀÇ ±â¼ú¿¡ ÀÇÇØ »ê¶æÇÏ°Ô Á¦½ÃµÈ´Ù¸é, ´ëÁßÀº ±×°ÍÀ» ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé·Î ¹Þ¾Æ µéÀδÙ.

Rostand¡¯s play Princesse Lointaine (¡®Princess Faraway¡¯), [86] in which there is not a scintilla of art, but which seems to many, probably including its author, to be very poetic, may serve as a typical example of such artistic counterfeits.

·Î½ºÅºµåÀÇ ¿¬±Ø Princesse Lointaine ('²Þ¼ÓÀÇ °øÁÖ')´Â, Ƽ²ø¸¸Å­ÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¼ºµµ ¾øÀ¸¸é¼­µµ, ¸¹Àº »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô, ¾Æ¸¶ ±× ÀÛ°¡µé Æ÷ÇÔÇÏ¿©, ¸Å¿ì ½ÃÀûÀÎ °Íó·³ º¸ÀÌ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î, ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀû ¸ðÁ¶Ç°µé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀüÇüÀû ¿¹·Î µé ¼ö ÀÖÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

The second method of producing a simulacrum of art is what I have called imitation. The essence of this method consists in conveying the details that accompany what is being described or portrayed. In verbal art, this method consists in describing in minute detail the external appearance, faces, clothing, gestures, sounds and positions of the characters with all the accidents that occur in life. Thus, in novels and stories, each time a character speaks, we are told what sort of voice he spoke in and what he was doing at the same time. And the speeches themselves are given not so as to have the greatest meaning, but in a lifelike manner, poorly put together, with interruptions and omissions. In dramatic art, this method consists in presenting, together with imitative speech, the whole situation and all the actions of the characters as they would be in real life. In painting, this method reduces painting to photography, and abolishes the difference between photography and painting. Strange as it may seem, this method is also employed in music, when it tries to imitate, not only with rhythm but with sounds themselves, the very sounds which in real life accompany that which it wishes to portray.

¿¹¼ú°ú À¯»çÇÑ °ÍÀ» ¸¸µå´Â µÎ ¹øÂ° ¹æ¹ýÀ» ³ª´Â ¸ð¹æÀ̶ó ºÎ¸¥´Ù. ÀÌ ¹æ¹ýÀÇ ÇÙ½ÉÀº ¹¦»çµÇ°Å³ª ±×·ÁÁö°í ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀ» µ¿¹ÝÇÏ´Â ¼¼ºÎ»çÇ×À» Àü´ÞÇÔ¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù. ¾ð¾î ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­, ÀÌ ¹æ¹ýÀº µîÀå Àι°µéÀÇ ¿Ü¸ð, ¾ó±¼µé, ÀÇ»ó, ¸öÁþµé, ¼Ò¸®µé ¹× À§Ä¡µéÀ» »î¿¡¼­ ¹ß»ýÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç »ç°Çµé°ú ÇÔ²² ¸Å¿ì »ó¼¼ÇÏ°Ô ¹¦»çÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®ÇÏ¿©, ¼Ò¼³µé ¹× À̾߱âµé¿¡¼­, µîÀå Àι°ÀÌ ¸»À» ÇÒ ¶§¸¶´Ù, ±×°¡ ¸»ÇÑ ¸ñ¼Ò¸®ÀÇ Á¾·ù, ±×¸®°í µ¿½Ã¿¡ ±×°¡ ¹«¾ùÀ» Çϰí Àִ°¡¸¦ µè°Ô µÈ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ´ëÈ­µé ÀÚü´Â ¸Å¿ì Áß¿äÇÑ Àǹ̸¦ Áö´Ï´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ½ÇÁ¦Ã³·³, Á¶ÀâÇÏ°Ô ¿«¾îÁ®, ²÷±â±âµµ ÇÏ°í »ý·«µÇ¸é¼­ ÁÖ¾îÁø´Ù. ±Ø¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­, ÀÌ ¹æ¹ýÀº, ¸ð¹æÀû ´ëÈ­¿Í ÇÔ²², Àüü »óȲ ¹× ½ÇÁ¦ »ýȰ¿¡¼­ ÀÖÀ» ¹ýÇÑ µîÀåÀι°µéÀÇ ¸ðµç ÇൿµéÀ» º¸¿©ÁÜ¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù. ȸȭ¿¡¼­, ÀÌ ¹æ¹ýÀº ȸȭ¸¦ »çÁø¼ú·Î Àü¶ô½Ã۸ç, »çÁø¼ú°ú ȸȭ »çÀÌÀÇ Â÷À̸¦ ¾ø¾Ö ¹ö¸°´Ù. ÀÌ»óÇØ º¸ÀÏÁö ¸ð¸£Áö¸¸, ÀÌ ¹æ¹ýÀº ¿ª½Ã À½¾Ç¿¡¼­µµ ä¿ëµÇ¸ç, À̶§ ¸®µë»Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¼Ò¸®µé ÀÚü¸¦, ½ÇÁ¦ »ýȰ¿¡¼­ ±×·Á³»°íÀÚ ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» µ¿¹ÝÇÏ´Â ¹Ù·Î ±× ¼Ò¸®µé ¸¶Àú ¸ð¹æÇÏ·Á ¾Ö¾´´Ù.

The third method consists in affecting external sensations, often in a purely physical way, by what is called strikingness or effectfulness. These effects, in all the arts, consist mainly in contrasts — in a juxtaposing of horrible and tender, beautiful and ugly, loud and soft, dark and light, the most ordinary and the most extraordinary. In verbal art, besides effects of contrast, there are also effects consisting in the description or portrayal of something that has never been described or portrayed before, predominantly in the description or portrayal of details that arouse sexual lust, or details of suffering and death that evoke the feeling of horror — for example, in describing a murder, to give a minute description of the torn tissues, the swellings, the smell, the quantity and appearance of the blood. So, too, in painting: together with contrasts of various sorts, another contrast is becoming widely used, consisting in the thorough finishing of one object and the sketchy treatment of the rest. The main effects used in painting are the effects of light and the portrayal of the horrible. In the drama, the most ordinary effects, apart from contrasts, are tempests, thunderstorms, moonlight, action on the sea or near the sea, changes of costume, the baring of the female body, madness, murders, and deaths in general, when the dying people convey in detail all the phases of their agony. In music, the most commonly used effects consist in following very weak and monotonous sounds with a crescendo and complication, culminating in the strongest and most complex sounds of the whole orchestra, or else in repeating the same sounds arpeggio in all octaves and on all instruments, or else in having a harmony, tempo, or rhythm utterly different from what would naturally flow from the course of the musical idea, but striking in their unexpectedness.

¼Â° ¹æ¹ýÀº ÈçÈ÷ ¼ø¼öÇÏ°Ô ¹°¸®Àû ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î, ¼ÒÀ§ ºÎ°¢ ȤÀº È¿°ú¸¦ ÀÌ¿ëÇØ¼­, ¿ÜÀûÀÎ Áö°¢µé¿¡ ¿µÇâÀ» ¹Ìħ¿¡ ÀÖ´Ù. ÀÌ·± È¿°úµéÀº, ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úµé¿¡¼­, ÁÖ·Î ´ëºñµé — ¹«¼­¿ò°ú ¿ÂÈ­ÇÔ, ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò°ú ÃßÇÔ, ½Ã²ô·¯¿ò°ú ºÎµå·¯¿ò, ¾îµÎ¿ò°ú ¹àÀ½, °¡Àå Æò¹üÇÔ °Í°ú °¡Àå ºñÁ¤»óÀûÀÎ °Í — ·Î ±¸¼ºµÈ´Ù. ¾ð¾î ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­, ´ëºñÀÇ È¿°úµé »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, °ú°Å¿¡ °áÄÚ Ç¥ÇöµÇ°Å³ª ¹¦»çµÈ ÀûÀÌ ¾ø´Â ¾î¶² °ÍÀÇ Ç¥Çö ȤÀº ¹¦»ç¿¡, ¾ÐµµÀûÀ¸·Î ¼ºÀû ¿å¸ÁÀ» ¾ß±âÇÏ´Â »ó¼¼ÇÑ ³»¿ëµé, ȤÀº ÀüÀ²ÀÇ ´À³¦À» ºÒ·¯¿À´Â °íÅë°ú Á×À½¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ó¼¼ÇÑ ³»¿ëµéÀÇ — ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, »ìÀÎÀ» ±â¼úÇÔ¿¡¼­, Âõ°ÜÁø »ìµé, ºÎÆÐÇÑ °Íµé, ³¿»õ, ÇÇÀÇ ¾ç°ú ¸ð¾ç¿¡ ´ëÇØ ÀÚ¼¼È÷ ±â¼úÇÏ´Â °Í — Ç¥ÇöÀ̳ª ¹¦»ç·Î ±¸¼ºµÇ´Â È¿°úµéÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù. ȸȭ¿¡¼­µµ ¿ª½Ã ±×·¯ÇÏ´Ù: ¿©·¯ Á¾·ùµéÀÇ ´ëºñµé°ú ÇÔ²², ´Ù¸¥ ´ëºñµµ ³Î¸® »ç¿ëµÇ°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ÇѰ¡Áö ´ë»óÀº öÀúÈ÷ ¸¶¹«¸®ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ¸ç ´Ù¸¥ ÂÊÀº ´ëÃæ ó¸®ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ȸȭ¿¡¼­ »ç¿ëµÇ´Â ÁÖµÈ È¿°úµéÀº ºûÀÇ È¿°úµé ¹× ÀüÀ²ÀÇ ¹¦»çÀÌ´Ù. ±Ø¿¡¼­, °¡Àå Æò¹üÇÑ È¿°úµéÀº, ´ëºñ¿Í´Â ´Þ¸®, ÆøÇ³¿ìµé, ¹ø°³ Ä¡´Â ÆøÇ³µé, ´Þºû, ¹Ù´Ù À§ ȤÀº ¹Ù´Ù ÀαÙÀÇ ÇàÀ§µé, ÀÇ»óÀÇ º¯È­, ¿©¼ºÀÇ ½Åü¸¦ ¹þ±â´Â °Í, ±¤±â, »ìÀεé, ±×¸®°í ÀϹÝÀûÀ¸·Î Á×À½µé·Î¼­, Á×¾î °¡´Â »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ±×µéÀÇ °íÅëÀÇ ¸ðµç ´Ü°èµéÀ» »ó¼¼È÷ Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. À½¾Ç¿¡¼­, °¡Àå Æò¹üÇÏ°Ô »ç¿ëµÇ´Â È¿°úµéÀº ¸Å¿ì ¹Ì¾àÇÏ°í ´ÜÁ¶·Î¿î ¼Ò¸®µéÀ» Á¡Á¡ ¼¼°Ô ¹× º¹ÀâÇÏ°Ô Ãß±¸ÇÏ¿©, Àüü ¿ÀÄɽºÆ®¶óÀÇ °¡Àå °­·ÄÇÏ¸ç °¡Àå º¹ÀâÇÑ ¼Ò¸®µé·Î ÀýÁ¤À» ÀÌ·ë¿¡, ȤÀº ¸ðµç ¿ÁŸºê ¹× ¸ðµç ¾Ç±âµé¿¡ ¾Æ¸£ÆäÁö¿À °°Àº ¶È°°Àº ¼Ò¸®µéÀ» ¹Ýº¹ÇÔ¿¡, ȤÀº À½¾ÇÀûÀÎ »ý°¢À¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ÀÚ¿¬ÀûÀ¸·Î Èê·¯ ³ª¿À´Â °Í°ú´Â ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î ´Ù¸¥ È­À½, ¹ÚÀÚ, ȤÀº ¸®µëÀ» Áö´Ï¸é¼­ ±×°ÍµéÀÇ ÀǿܼºÀ¸·Î µÎµå·¯Áö°Ô ÇÔ¿¡ ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

These are some of the most commonly used effects in the various arts, but there is one more besides, which is common to all the arts, and that is the portrayal by one art of what is usually portrayed by another, so that music should ¡®describe¡¯, as all programme music does, both that of Wagner and that of his followers, while painting, drama and poetry should ¡®create a mood¡¯, as is done in all decadent art.

´Ù¾çÇÑ ¿¹¼úµé¿¡´Â °¡Àå º¸ÆíÀûÀ¸·Î »ç¿ëµÇ´Â È¿°úµéÀÌ ¸î °¡Áö¾¿ ÀÖÀ¸³ª, »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ÇѰ¡Áö ´õ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±×°ÍÀº ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úµé¿¡ °øÅëÀÎ °ÍÀ¸·Î, ±×°ÍÀº ÈçÈ÷ ´Ù¸¥ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¹¦»çµÇ´Â ¾î¶² ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÀÇÇÑ ¹¦»çÀ̸ç, ±×¸®ÇÏ¿© À½¾ÇÀº ¹Ýµå½Ã, "¸ðµç Ç¥Á¦ À½¾ÇÀÌ ±×·¯Çϵí, ¹Ù±×³ÊÀÇ À½¾Ç »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ±×ÀÇ ÃßÁ¾ÀÚµéÀÇ °Íµµ 'Ç¥Çö'Çϸç, ¹Ý¸é ȸȭ, ¿¬±Ø ¹× ½Ã´Â ¸ðµç ÅðÆóÁÖÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ÇàÇØÁöµí '°æÇâ'À» âÁ¶ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

The fourth method is diversion, that is, an intellectual interest added to the work of art. Diversion may consist in an entangled plot — a method still very much in use in recent English novels and French comedies and dramas, but which is now going out of fashion and is being replaced by documentary methods, that is, by the detailed description either of some historical period or of some particular sphere of contemporary life. Thus, for instance, the diversion consists in describing Egyptian or Roman life in a novel, or the life of miners, or of salesmen in a department store; the reader becomes interested, and he mistakes this interest for an artistic impression. The diversion may also consist in the methods of expression themselves. This sort of diversion is now very much in use. Poetry and prose, as well as paintings, dramas and musical pieces, are now written in such a way that they must be puzzled out like rebuses, and this process of puzzling out also affords pleasure and gives a semblance of the impression produced by art.

³Ý° ¹æ¹ýÀº Àüȯ, Áï, ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰ¿¡ ºÎ°¡µÇ´Â ÁöÀûÀÎ °ü½ÉÀÌ´Ù. ÀüȯÀº º¹ÀâÇÏ°Ô ¾ôÈù ÁٰŸ®·Î ±¸¼ºµÈ´Ù ÀÌ ¹æ¹ýÀº ÃÖ±Ù ¿µ±¹ ¼Ò¼³µé ¹× ÇÁ¶û½º Èñ±Øµé ¹× ¿¬±Øµé¿¡¼­ ¾ÆÁ÷µµ ¸Å¿ì ¸¹ÀÌ »ç¿ëµÇ°í ÀÖÁö¸¸, ÀÌÁ¦ À¯Çà¿¡¼­ ¹þ¾î³ª°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç ±â·Ï¿¡ ÀÇÇÑ ¹æ¹ýµé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ, Áï, µ¿½Ã´ëÀÇ »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀϺΠ¿ª»çÀû ½Ã±âÀÇ È¤Àº ÀϺΠƯÁ¤ÇÑ ¿µ¿ª¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ó¼¼ÇÑ ¼­¼ú·Î ÀÇÇØ ´ëüµÇ°í ÀÖ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ÀüȯÀº ¼Ò¼³ ¾È¿¡¼­ ÀÌÁýÆ®ÀΠȤÀº ·Î¸¶ÀÎÀÇ »î, ȤÀº ±¤ºÎÀÇ È¤Àº ¹éÈ­Á¡ÀÇ ÆÇ¸Å¿øÀÇ »îÀ» ¹¦»çÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù; µ¶ÀÚ´Â Èï¹Ì¸¦ °¡Áö°Ô µÇ¸ç ±×´Â ÀÌ·± Èï¹Ì¸¦ ¿¹¼úÀû °¨µ¿À¸·Î ¿ÀÀÎÇÏ°Ô µÈ´Ù. ÀüȯÀº ¶ÇÇÑ Ç¥ÇöÀÇ ¹æ¹ýµé ÀÚü¿¡µµ ÀÖÀ» ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. ÀÌ·± Á¾·ùÀÇ ÀüȯÀº ÀÌÁ¦ ¸Å¿ì ¸¹ÀÌ »ç¿ëµÇ°í ÀÖ´Ù. ½Ã¿Í »ê¹®, »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ȸȭµé, ¿¬±Øµé ¹× À½¾Ç ÀÛǰµéµµ, ÀÌÁ¦ ÀÌ·¸°Ô ¾²¿©Á®¼­ ¼ö¼ö²²³¢µéó·³ Ç®¾î¾ß Çϸç, ÀÌ·± ¼ö¼ö²²³¢¸¦ Ǫ´Â ÀÛ¾÷Àº ¶ÇÇÑ Äè¶ôÀ» Á¦°øÇÏ°í ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ¸¸µé¾îÁö´Â °¨µ¿°ú À¯»çÇÑ °ÍÀ» ÁØ´Ù.

It is very often said that a work of art is very good because it is poetic, or realistic, or effectual, or interesting, whereas not only can neither the one, nor the other, nor the third, nor the fourth be a standard of worth in art, but they do not even have anything in common with it.

¾î¶² ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀº ±×°ÍÀÌ ½ÃÀûÀ̰ųª, Çö½ÇÀûÀ̰ųª, ÀûÀýÇϰųª, ȤÀº Èï¹Ì Àֱ⠶§¹®¿¡ ¸Å¿ì ÈǸ¢ÇÏ´Ù°í ÈçÈ÷µé ¸»ÇÑ´Ù, ±×·¸Áö¸¸ À̰͵µ, Àú°Íµµ, Á¦ »ïÀÇ °Íµµ, ȤÀº Á¦ »çÀÇ °Íµµ ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ °¡Ä¡ÀÇ Ç¥ÁØÀÏ ¼ö ¾øÀ¸¸ç, ±×°ÍµéÀº ½ÉÁö¾î ¿¹¼ú°ú ¾Æ¹«·± °øÅëÁ¡ÀÌ ¾ø´Ù.

Poetic means borrowed. And any borrowing only suggests to readers, spectators or listeners some vague memories of the artistic impressions they received from earlier works of art, and does not infect them with a feeling that the artist himself has experienced. A work based on borrowing — Goethe¡¯s Faust, for example — may be very well executed, full of intelligence and every beauty, but it cannot produce a true artistic impression, because it lacks the chief property of a work of art — wholeness, organicness, in which form and content constitute an inseparable whole expressing the feeling experienced by the artist. In borrowing, the artist conveys only the feeling that was conveyed to him by an earlier work of art, and therefore any borrowing of entire themes or various scenes, situations, descriptions is only a reflection of art, its simulacrum, and not art itself. And therefore, to say of such a work that it is good because it is poetic — meaning that it resembles a work of art — is the same as to say of a coin that it is good because it resembles a real one. Just as little can imitation, realism, contrary to what many think, be a standard of the worth of art. Imitation cannot be a standard of the worth of art because, if the chief property of art is to infect others with the feeling experienced by the artist, this infecting not only does not go together with a detailed description of what is conveyed, but is largely disrupted by the superfluity of details. The attention of the one receiving the artistic impression is distracted by all these well-observed details, and this prevents the author¡¯s feeling, if indeed there is any, from being conveyed.

½ÃÀûÀÎ ¼ö´ÜµéÀÌ Â÷¿ëµÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¾î¶² Â÷¿ëµµ ´ÜÁö µ¶ÀÚµé, °üÁßµé ȤÀº ûÃëÀڵ鿡°Ô ÀÌÀüÀÇ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé¿¡¼­ ¹ÞÀº ¿¹¼úÀû °¨µ¿¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¾à°£ÀÇ ¸·¿¬ÇÑ ±â¾ïµé¸¸À» ¾Ï½ÃÇÒ »ÓÀ̸ç, ¿¹¼ú°¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ °æÇèÇÑ ¾î¶² ´À³¦À» ±×µé¿¡°Ô Àü¿°½ÃŰÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù. Â÷¿ëÀ» Åä´ë·Î ÇÑ ÀÛǰ — ¿¹¸¦ µé¸é, ±«Å×ÀÇ ÆÄ¿ì½ºÆ® — ´Â ¸Å¿ì ÈǸ¢È÷ °ø¿¬µÇ¸ç, Áö¼º°ú ¿ä¸ðÁ¶¸ð ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ¸·Î Â÷ ÀÖ°ÚÁö¸¸, ÂüµÈ ¿¹¼úÀû °¨µ¿À» ¸¸µé¾î ³¾ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀº ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀÇ ÁÖµÈ ¼Ó¼º — ¿ÏÀüÇÔ, À¯±âÀû ¼º°Ý — À» °á¿©Çϰí ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±× ¼Ó¼º ¾È¿¡¼­ Çü½Ä°ú ³»¿ëÀÌ ¿¹¼ú°¡¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °æÇèµÈ ´À³¦À» ¶¼¾î³¾ ¼ö ¾ø´Â Àüü·Î Ç¥ÇöÇÔÀ» ±¸¼ºÇϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. Â÷¿ë¿¡¼­, ¿¹¼ú°¡´Â ´ÜÁö ÀÌÀüÀÇ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ±×¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞµÈ ´À³¦À» Àü´ÞÇϸç, ±×·¯¹Ç·Î Àüü ÁÖÁ¦µé ȤÀº ´Ù¾çÇÑ Àå¸éµé, »óȲµé, Ç¥ÇöµéÀ» Â÷¿ëÇÔÀº ´ÜÁö ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¹Ý¿µ, Áï, ¸ðÁ¶Ç°ÀÏ »Ó ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰ ÀÚü´Â ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î, ÇÑ ÀÛǰÀÌ ½ÃÀûÀ̱⠶§¹®¿¡ ÈǸ¢ÇÏ´Ù°í ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¾î¶² µ¿ÀüÀÌ ±×°ÍÀ» ½ÇÁ¦ÀÇ °ÍÀ» ´à¾Ò±â ¶§¹®¿¡ ÈǸ¢ÇÏ´Ù°í ¸»ÇÏ´Â °Í°ú ¶È°°´Ù. ¸ð¹æ°ú ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î, »ç½ÇÁÖÀǵµ, ¸¹Àº »ç¶÷µéÀÌ »ý°¢ÇÏ´Â °Í°ú´Â ¹Ý´ë·Î, °ÅÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀÇ °¡Ä¡ ±âÁØÀÌ µÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù. ¸ð¹æÀº ¿¹¼úÀÇ Ç¥ÁØÀÌ µÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇϸé, ¸¸ÀÏ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÁÖµÈ ¼Ó¼ºÀÌ ¿¹¼ú°¡¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °æÇèµÈ ´À³¦À» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Àü¿°ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ̶ó¸é, ÀÌ·¸°Ô °¨¿°ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº Àü´ÞµÇ´Â °Í¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ó¼¼ÇÑ ¹¦»ç¿Í ÇÔ²²ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ» »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ´ëüÀûÀ¸·Î »ó¼¼ÇÑ ¼­¼úÀÌ ³ÑÃij²À¸·Î½á ¹«»êµÇ¾î ¹ö¸°´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀûÀÎ °¨µ¿À» ¹Þ´Â »ç¶÷ÀÇ ÁýÁß·ÂÀº ÀÌ ¸ðµç ÈǸ¢È÷ ÁöÄÑÁö´Â »ó¼¼ÇÑ ¹¦»çµé·Î Èå·ÁÁø´Ù, ±×¸®°í À̰ÍÀº ÀÛ°¡ÀÇ ´À³¦ÀÌ, ½ÇÀç·Î Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù ÇÏ´õ¶óµµ, Àü´ÞµÇ´Â °ÍÀ» ¹æÇØÇÑ´Ù.

To evaluate a work of art by the degree of its realism, by the truthfulness of the details conveyed, is as strange as to judge the nutritional qualities of food by its appearance. When we define the value of a work of art by its realism, we merely show thereby that we are talking, not of a work of art, but of a counterfeit.

¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀ» ±× »ç½Ç¼º¿¡ ÀÇÇØ, Àü´ÞµÇ´Â »ó¼¼ÇÑ ³»¿ëÀÇ Áø½Ç¼º¿¡ ÀÇÇØ, Æò°¡ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº À½½ÄÀÇ ¿µ¾ç°¡¸¦ ±× ¸ð¾çÀ¸·Î ÆÇ´ÜÇÏ´Â °Í ¸¸Å­À̳ª ÀÌ»óÇÑ ÀÏÀÌ´Ù. ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀÇ °¡Ä¡¸¦ ±× »ç½Ç¼ºÀ¸·Î Á¤ÀÇÇÑ´Ù¸é, ¿ì¸®´Â ´Ü¼øÈ÷, ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¸ðÁ¶Ç°À» ¸»Çϰí ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀ» º¸¿©ÁÙ »ÓÀÌ´Ù.

The third method of counterfeiting art — by strikingness, or effectfulness — goes together no more than the first two with the concept of genuine art, because the strikingness, the effects of novelty, unexpected contrasts, horrors, do not convey any feeling, but only affect the nerves. If an artist makes an excellent portrayal of a bloody wound, the sight of the wound will strike me, but there will be no art in it. One drawn-out note on a powerful organ will produce a striking impression, will even call up tears, but there will be no music in it, because it conveys no feeling. And yet physiological effects of this sort are constantly mistaken for art by people of our circle, not only in music, but in poetry, painting and the drama. It is said that art has become refined in our time. On the contrary, owing to the pursuit of effects, it has become extremely crude. Take a performance of the new play Hannele, [87] which is showing in theatres all over Europe, and in which the author wishes to convey to the public his compassion for a girl tormented to death. To call up this emotion in the spectators by means of art, the author ought to have made one of his characters express this compassion in such a way as to infect everyone, or to have given a true description of the girl¡¯s sensations. But he cannot or will not do this, and chooses another way, more complicated for stage technicians but easier for artists. He has the girl die onstage; and furthermore, to enhance the psychological effect on the public, he puts out the lights in the theatre, leaving the audience in darkness, and, to the sounds of pitiful music, shows the girl¡¯s drunken father pursuing her and beating her. The girl writhes, squeals, moans, falls. Angels appear and carry her away. And the audience, experiencing a certain excitement, is quite sure that this is an aesthetic feeling. But there is nothing aesthetic in this excitement, because it is not one man infecting another, but is only a mixed feeling of suffering for another and gladness for oneself, that it is not I who am suffering — like what we experience in viewing an execution, or what the Romans experienced in their circuses.

¿¹¼úÀ» À§Á¶Çϱâ À§ÇÑ — ºÎ°¢ ȤÀº È¿°ú¿¡ ÀÇÇÑ — ¼Â° ¹æ¹ýÀº ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ ¿¹¼úÀÇ °³³ä¿¡ °üÇÏ¿© óÀ½ µÎ °¡Áö¿Í ´Ù¸¦ ¹Ù ¾ø´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ºÎ°¢½ÃŰ´Â °Í, Áï »ö´Ù¸¥ È¿°úµé, ¶æ¹ÛÀÇ ´ëÁ¶, °øÆ÷µéÀº ¾î¶² ´À³¦À» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó  ´ÜÁö ½Å°æÀ» °Çµå¸± »ÓÀÌ´Ù. ¸¸ÀÏ ¿¹¼ú°¡°¡ À¯Ç÷ÀÌ ³¶ÀÚÇÑ »óó¸¦ ¶Ù¾î³ª°Ô ¹¦»çÇÑ´Ù¸é, »óóÀÇ ±¤°æÀº ³ª¿¡°Ô Ãæ°ÝÀ» ÁÙ°ÚÁö¸¸ ±× ¾È¿¡ ¿¹¼úÀº ¾ø´Ù. ¸·°­ÇÑ ¿À¸£°£¿¡¼­ ¿¬ÁֵǴ ÀåȲÇÑ ÇÑ ¾Çº¸´Â ƯÀÌÇÑ ÀλóÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»¸ç, ½ÉÁö¾î ´«¹°À» ÀÚ¾Æ ³»°ÚÁö¸¸, ±× ¾È¿¡ À½¾ÇÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¾Æ´Ï´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀº ¾Æ¹«·± ´À³¦À» Àü´ÞÇÏÁö ¾Ê±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ÀÌ·± Á¾·ùÀÇ »ý¸®ÇÐÀûÀÎ È¿°úµéÀº ²÷ÀÓ ¾øÀÌ ¿ì¸® ¹üÁÖÀÇ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿ÀÀεǸç, À½¾Ç¿¡¼­ »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ½Ã, ȸȭ, ¿¬±¹¿¡¼­µµ ±×·¸´Ù. ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ë¿¡ ¿¹¼úÀÌ ¼¼·ÃµÇ¾î Á³´Ù°íµé ÇÑ´Ù. ¹Ý´ë·Î, È¿°úµéÀ» Ãß±¸ÇÔÀ¸·Î ÀÎÇÏ¿©, ¿¹¼úÀº ±Øµµ·Î õ¹ÚÇØÁ³´Ù. »õ ¿¬±Ø HanneleÀÇ °ø¿¬À» º¸¶ó, À̰ÍÀº Àü À¯·´ÀÇ ±ØÀåµé¿¡¼­ »ó¿¬µÇ°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ¿©±â¼­ ÀÛ°¡´Â °í¹®À» ´çÇØ Á×´Â ¾î¶² ¼Ò³à¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿¬¹ÎÀ» ´ëÁß¿¡°Ô Àü´ÞÇϰíÀÚ ÇÑ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀ» ÀÌ¿ëÇÏ¿© °üÁßµé ¾È¿¡ ÀÌ·± °¨Á¤À» ºÒ·¯¿À±â À§ÇØ, ÀÛ°¡´Â ±×ÀÇ µîÀå Àι°µé ÁßÀÇ Çϳª·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀ» Àü¿°½Ãų ¼ö ÀÖµµ·Ï ÇÏ´Â ÀÌ·± ¿¬¹ÎÀ» Ç¥ÇöÇÏ°Ô Çϰųª, ȤÀº ¼Ò³àÀÇ °¨Á¤µé¿¡ ´ëÇØ ÂüµÈ ¹¦»ç¸¦ Çß¾î¾ß¸¸ ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ±×´Â ÀÌ ÀÏÀ» ÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø°Å³ª ÇÏÁöµµ ¾ÊÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù, ±×¸®°í ´Ù¸¥ ¹æ¹ý, ¹«´ë ±â¼úÀڵ鿡°Ô´Â ´õ º¹ÀâÇÏÁö¸¸ ¿¹¼ú°¡µé¿¡°Ô´Â ´õ ½¬¿î ¹æ¹ýÀ» ¼±ÅÃÇÑ´Ù. ±×´Â ¼Ò³à°¡ ¹«´ë¿¡¼­ Á×µµ·Ï ÇÑ´Ù; ±×¸®°í ³ª¾Æ°¡¼­, ´ëÁß¿¡°Ô ½É¸®Àû È¿°ú¸¦ ±Ø´ëÈ­Çϱâ À§ÇØ, ±ØÀå ¾È¿¡¼­ Á¶¸íÀ» ²ô°í¼­ ûÁßµéÀ» ¾ÏÈæ »óÅ·ΠµÎ¸ç, ¾ÖÀýÇÑ À½¾Ç ¼Ò¸®¿¡ µû¶ó, ¼Ò³àÀÇ ¼ú ÃëÇÑ ¾Æ¹öÁö°¡ ±×³à¸¦ ÂѾư¡¼­ ±×³à¸¦ ¶§¸®´Â °ÍÀ» º¸¿© ÁØ´Ù. ¼Ò³à´Â µß±¼°í, ºñ¸íÀ» Áö¸£¸ç, Èå´À³¢°í ³Ñ¾îÁø´Ù. õ»ç°¡ ³ªÅ¸³ª ±×³à¸¦ µ¥¸®°í °¡ ¹ö¸°´Ù. ±×¸®°í ûÁßµéÀº, ƯÁ¤ÇÑ ÈïºÐÀ» °æÇèÇÏ°í¼­, À̰ÍÀÌ ¹ÌÀûÀÎ ´À³¦À̶ó°í ÁüÁþ È®½ÅÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ÀÌ·± ÈïºÐ¿¡´Â ¾Æ¹«·± ¹ÌÀûÀÎ °ÍÀÌ ¾ø´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×°ÍÀº ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷À» Àü¿°½ÃŰ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ´ÜÁö ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °íÅë¿¡ °üÇÑ È¥ÇÕµÈ ´À³¦À̸ç ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀ» À§ÇÑ Áñ°Å¿òÀÌ¸ç — ¿ì¸®°¡ óÇüÀ» ¹Ù¶ó º¸¸é¼­ °æÇèÇÏ´Â °Íó·³, ȤÀº ·Î¸¶ÀεéÀÌ ±×µéÀÇ ¿øÇü °æ±âÀå¿¡¼­ °æÇèÇß´ø °Íó·³ — °Þ´Â °ÍÀº ³»°¡ ¾Æ´Ï±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù.

The substitution of effects for aesthetic feeling is especially noticeable in musical art — an art peculiar in its direct physiological impact on the nerves. Instead of using melody to convey the feelings experienced by the composer, the new musician accumulates and interweaves sounds, and by alternately intensifying and weakening them, produces a physiological effect on the public, which can be measured by an apparatus specially designed for that purpose. [88] And the public mistakes this physiological effect for the effect of art.

¹ÌÀûÀÎ ´À³¦À» È¿°úµé·Î ´ëüÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ƯÈ÷ À½¾Ç ¿¹¼ú — ½Å°æ¿¡ Á÷Á¢Àû »ý¸®ÇÐÀûÀÎ ¿µÇâÀ» ¹ÌÄ£´Ù´Â Á¡¿¡¼­ ƯÀÌÇÑ ¿¹¼ú — ¿¡¼­ µÎµå·¯Áø´Ù. ÀÛ°î°¡¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °æÇèµÈ ´À³¦µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇϱâ À§ÇØ ¸á·Îµð¸¦ »ç¿ëÇÏ´Â ´ë½Å, ½ÅÁø À½¾Ç°¡µéÀº ¼Ò¸®µéÀ» ÃàÀûÇϰí Â¥¸ÂÃß°í, ±×°ÍµéÀ» ¹Ù²Ù¾î °¡¸ç °­Á¶Çϰųª ¾àÇÏ°Ô ÇÔÀ¸·Î½á, ´ëÁß¿¡°Ô »ý¸®ÇÐÀûÀÎ È¿°ú¸¦ ¸¸µé¾î ³»¸ç, À̰͵éÀº Ưº°È÷ ±×·¯ÇÑ ¸ñÀûÀ¸·Î °í¾ÈµÈ ÀåÄ¡·Î ¸¶·ÃµÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ´ëÁßÀº ÀÌ·± »ý¸®ÇÐÀûÀÎ È¿°ú¸¦ ¿¹¼úÀ» À§ÇÑ È¿°ú·Î ¿ÀÀÎÇÑ´Ù.

As for the fourth method, diversion, though it is more foreign to art than the others, it is more often confused with it. Not to mention an author¡¯s deliberate concealment of something in a novel or story which the reader must then guess, one often hears it said that a painting or a musical composition is interesting. What does ¡®interesting¡¯ mean? An interesting work of art is either one that provokes unsatisfied curiosity, or one which, as we contemplate it, gives us information that is new to us, or else it is a work that is not entirely comprehensible, the meaning of which we figure out gradually and with effort, finding a certain pleasure in this guessing process. In none of these cases does the diversion have anything to do with an artistic impression. The aim of art is to infect people with a feeling experienced by the artist. But the mental effort required of a spectator, listener or reader to satisfy their aroused curiosity, or to master the new information imparted by the work, or to grasp its meaning, absorbs the reader¡¯s, spectator¡¯s or listener¡¯s attention, thereby interfering with the infection. And therefore what is diverting in the work not only has nothing to do with its artistic worth, but hinders rather than helps the artistic impression.

³Ý° ¹æ¹ýÀÎ Àüȯ¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼­´Â, ´Ù¸¥ °Íµéº¸´Ù ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´õ¿í ÀÌÁúÀûÀÎ °ÍÀÌÁö¸¸, ´õ ÀÚÁÖ ¿¹¼ú°ú È¥µ¿µÇ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¼Ò¼³ ȤÀº À̾߱⠾ȿ¡¼­ µ¶ÀÚ°¡ ÃßÃøÇØ¾ß¸¸ ÇÏ´Â ¾î¶² °ÍÀ» ÀÛ°¡°¡ ÀǵµÀûÀ¸·Î ¼û±èÀº ¸»ÇÒ °Íµµ ¾ø°í, ȸȭ³ª À½¾Ç ÀÛ°îÀº Èï¹Ì·Ó´Ù°í ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ¿ì¸®´Â Á¾Á¾ µè´Â´Ù. 'Èï¹Ì ÀÖ´Ù'´Â ¹«¾ùÀ» ÀǹÌÇϴ°¡? Èï¹Ì·Î¿î ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀº ¸¸Á·½º·´Áö ¸øÇÑ È£±â½ÉÀ» À¯¹ß½ÃŰ´Â °ÍÀ̰ųª, ȤÀº ¿ì¸®°¡ ¿¹»óÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÎÁï, ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô »õ·Î¿î Á¤º¸¸¦ ÁÖ´Â °ÍÀ̰ųª, ȤÀº ÀüÀûÀ¸·Î ÀÌÇØµÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ÀÛǰÀ¸·Î, ±×°ÍÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ ¿ì¸®´Â Á¡Â÷ÀûÀ¸·Î ±×¸®°í ³ë·ÂÀ» ÅëÇØ ¾Ë¾Æ ¸ÂÃß°í, ÀÌ °°Àº ÃßÃø °úÁ¤¿¡¼­ ¾î¶² Äè¶ôÀ» ¹ß°ßÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ñÀûÀº ¿¹¼ú°¡¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °æÇèµÈ ´À³¦À» »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Àü¿°½ÃŰ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª °üÁß, ûÁß È¤Àº µ¶ÀÚ°¡ ±×µéÀÇ ²ú¾î ¿À¸£´Â È£±â½ÉÀ» ÃæÁ·Çϱâ À§ÇØ, ȤÀº ÀÛǰÀÌ ÁÖ´Â »õ·Î¿î Á¤º¸¸¦ Á¤º¹Çϱâ À§ÇØ, ȤÀº ±× ¶æÀ» ÆÄ¾ÇÇϱâ À§ÇØ ¿ä±¸µÇ´Â Á¤½ÅÀû ³ë·ÂÀº µ¶ÀÚÀÇ, °üÁßÀÇ È¤Àº ûÁßÀÇ ÁýÁßÀ» ¼ÒÁø½ÃŰ¸ç ±×·³À¸·Î½á Àü¿°À» ¹æÇØÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ÀÛǰ¿¡¼­ Àüȯ½ÃÄÑÁÖ´Â °ÍÀº ¿¹¼úÀû °¡Ä¡¿Í ¾Æ¹«·± °ü°è°¡ ¾øÀ¸¸ç, ¿ÀÈ÷·Á ¿¹¼úÀû °¨µ¿À» µ½±â º¸´Ù´Â °¡·Î¸·´Â´Ù.

A work of art may be poetic, imitative, striking or diverting, but none of these qualities can replace the chief property of art — the feeling experienced by the artist. Lately, however, in the art of the upper classes, the majority of objects that pass for objects of art are precisely the sort that only resemble art, and do not have as their basis the chief property of art — the feeling experienced by the artist. There are many conditions necessary for a man to create a true object of art. It is necessary that the man stand on the level of the highest world outlook of his time, that he have experienced a feeling and have the wish and opportunity to transmit it, and that he have, with all that, a talent for some kind of art. It is very seldom that all these conditions necessary for the production of true art come together. But to produce, with the help of the developed methods of borrowing, imitation, effectfulness and diversion, that simulacrum of art which is so well remunerated in our society, one need only have a talent for some kind of art, which occurs quite often. I call talent the ability, in verbal art, to express one¡¯s thoughts and impressions with ease, and to observe and remember characteristic details; in plastic art, to distinguish, remember and convey lines, forms and colours; in music, to distinguish intervals, to remember; and convey a sequence of sounds. In our time, a man with such talent, once he has learned the techniques and methods of counterfeiting his art, if he is patient, and if his aesthetic sense, which would make such works loathsome to him, has atrophied, can ceaselessly produce, to the end of his days, works which in our society are regarded as art.

¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰÀº ½ÃÀûÀÏ ¼öµµ, ¸ð¹æÀûÀÏ ¼öµµ, ºÎ°¢µÉ ¼öµµ, ȤÀº ÀüȯÀûÀÏ ¼öµµ ÀÖ´Ù, ÇÏÁö¸¸ ÀÌµé ¼ºÁúµé Áß ¾î´À °Íµµ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÇÙ½É ¼ºÁú — ¿¹¼ú°¡¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼­ °æÇèµÈ ´À³¦ — À» ´ëüÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù. ±Ù·¡¿¡, ±×·¯³ª, »ó·ù °è±ÞµéÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ´ë»óµé·Î ¿©°ÜÁö´Â ´ë´Ù¼ö ´ë»óµéÀÌ Á¤È®È÷ ¸»Çؼ­ ´ÜÁö ¿¹¼ú°ú ´à¾Æ ÀÖÁö¸¸ ±× Åä´ë¿¡ À־ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÇÙ½É Æ¯¼º — ¿¹¼ú°¡¿¡ ÀÇÇØ °æÇèµÈ ´À³¦ — À» Áö´ÏÁö ¾Ê°í ÀÖ´Ù. ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÂüµÈ ´ë»óÀ» âÁ¶Çϱâ À§Çؼ­ ÇÊ¿äÇÑ ¸¹Àº Á¶°ÇµéÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÑ´Ù. ±× »ç¶÷Àº ±× ½Ã´ëÀÇ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¼¼°è Àü¸ÁÀÇ ´Ü°è¿¡ ¼­ÀÖÀ» °Í, ¾î¶² ´À³¦À» °æÇèÇßÀ¸¸ç ±×°ÍÀ» Àü´ÞÇÒ ¼Ò¸Á°ú ±âȸ¸¦ °¡Áú °Í, ±×¸®°í ±× ¸ðµç °Í°ú ÇÔ²², ¾î¶² Á¾·ùÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ Àç´ÉÀ» ¼ÒÀ¯ÇÒ °ÍÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÏ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª, Â÷¿ë, ¸ð¹æ, È¿°ú ¹× ÀüȯÀ̶ó´Â °³¹ßµÈ ¹æ¹ýµéÀÇ µµ¿òÀ¸·Î, ¿ì¸® »çȸ¿¡¼­ ±×Åä·Ï ÈÄÇÏ°Ô º¸»óÇØÁÖ´Â ±× °°Àº ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ðÁ¶Ç°À» ¸¸µé¾î ³»·Á¸é, ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ÀÁ÷ ÀÏÁ¤ÇÑ Á¾·ùÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Àç´ÉÀ» °¡Áú °ÍÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÒ »ÓÀ̸ç, ±×·± ÀÏÀº ¸Å¿ì ÈçÇÏ´Ù. ³ª´Â Àç´ÉÀ», ¾ð¾î ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­, ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ »ç»óµé ¹× °¨µ¿µéÀ» ¿ëÀÌÇÏ°Ô Ç¥ÇöÇϰí, Ư¡ÀûÀÎ »ó¼¼ÇÑ ³»¿ëµéÀ» °üÂûÇÏ°í ±â¾ïÇÏ´Â; Á¶Çü ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­, ¼±µé, ¸ð¾çµé ¹× »ö»óµéÀ» ±¸º°Çϰí, ±â¾ïÇϸç Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â; À½¾Ç¿¡¼­, À½Á¤µéÀ» ±¸º°Çϰí, ±â¾ïÇϸç, ÀÏ·ÃÀÇ ¼Ò¸®µéÀ» Àü´ÞÇÏ´Â ´É·ÂÀ» ÀÏÄ´´Ù. ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ë¿¡ À־, ±×·¯ÇÑ Àç´ÉÀ» Áö´Ñ »ç¶÷Àº, ±×ÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±â¼ú ¹× ¸ðÁ¶ÇÏ´Â ¹æ¹ýµéÀ» Å͵æÇÏ°í ³ª¸é, ±×°¡ Àγ»°¡ ÀÖ´Ù¸é, ±×¸®°í ±×ÀÇ ¹ÌÀûÀÎ °¨°¢ÀÌ — ±×°ÍÀÌ ±×·± ÀÛǰµéÀÌ ±×¿¡°Ô Áö°ã°Ô ´À²¸Áöµµ·Ï ÇϰÚÁö¸¸ — ÅðÈ­µÇ¾ú´Ù¸é, ±×ÀÇ »ýÀÇ ¸¶Áö¸·±îÁö ½° ¾øÀÌ ¿ì¸® »çȸ°¡ ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©±â´Â ÀÛǰµéÀ» »ý»êÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù.

To produce such counterfeits, there exist certain rules or recipes in every kind of art, so that a talented man, having learned them, can produce such objects à froid, coldly, without the least feeling. To write poetry, a man with verbal talent need only accustom himself to using, in place of each single, real, necessary word, depending on the demands of metre and rhyme, another ten words of approximately the same meaning, and then accustom himself to saying each sentence, which to be clear must have its own particular word-order, in every other possible verbal combination, so long as there is some semblance of meaning; and then, too, depending on words that happen to rhyme, to accustom himself to inventing simulacra of thoughts, feelings or pictures to go with these words, and then the man can proceed ceaselessly to turn out verses, short or long, religious, amatory, or civic, depending on the need.

±×·± ¸ðÁ¶Ç°µéÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»±â À§Çؼ­´Â, ¸ðµç Á¾·ùÀÇ ¿¹¼ú¿¡¼­ ÀÏÁ¤ÇÑ ±ÔÄ¢µé ȤÀº 󹿵éÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇϸç, ±×·¡¼­ Àç´É ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷Àº, ±×°ÍµéÀ» Å͵æÇÏ°í ³ª¸é, ±×·± ´ë»óµéÀ», à froid, ³ÃÁ¤ÇϰÔ, ÃÖ¼ÒÇÑÀÇ ´À³¦µµ ¾øÀÌ, ¸¸µé¾î ³¾ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. ½Ã¸¦ ¾²°íÀÚ ÇÑ´Ù¸é, ¾ð¾îÀû Àç´ÉÀ» Áö´Ñ »ç¶÷À̸é, ¿îÀ² ¹× ¾Ð¿îÀÇ ÇÊ¿äµé¿¡ µû¶ó, Á¦°¢±â À¯ÀÏÇϸç, »ç½ÇÀûÀ̰í ÇÊ¿äÇÑ ´Ü¾î ´ë½Å¿¡ °ÅÀÇ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ÀǹÌÀÇ ´Ù¸¥ ¿­ °¡Áö ´Ü¾îµéÀ» »ç¿ëÇÔ¿¡ Àͼ÷ÇØ Áö±â¸¸ ÇÏ¸é µÉ »ÓÀ̸ç, ±×¸®°í ¾î´À Á¤µµ Àǹ̸¸ ºñ½ÁÇÏ´Ù¸é, Á¦°¢±â ¹®ÀåÀ», Ʋ¸²¾øÀÌ ¹Ýµå½Ã ±× ÀÚüÀÇ Æ¯º°ÇÑ ¾î¼øÀ» Áö´Ô¿¡µµ, Á¦°¢±â ´Ù¸¥ °¡´ÉÇÑ ¾ð¾î Á¶ÇÕÀ¸·Î ¸»ÇØ ³»´Â °Í¿¡ Àͼ÷ÇØ Áö¸é µÇ¸ç; ±×¸®°í ¶ÇÇÑ ¾Ð¿î¿¡ ÀÖ´Â ´Ü¾î¿¡ µû¶ó, ÀÌ·± ´Ü¾îµé¿¡ ¾î¿ï¸®´Â »ç»óµé, ´À³¦µé ȤÀº ¹¦»çµéÀÇ ¸ðÁ¶Ç°À» ¹ß¸íÇØ ³¿¿¡ Àͼ÷ÇØ Áø´Ù¸é, ±×·¸´Ù¸é Çʿ信 µû¶ó, ªµç ±æµç, Á¾±³ÀûÀ̵ç, ¾ÖÁ¤ÀûÀ̵ç, ȤÀº µµ½ÃÀûÀ̵ç, ±× »ç¶÷Àº ²÷ÀÓ ¾øÀÌ ½ÃµéÀ» µ¹·Á ³»¸é¼­ ³ª¾Æ °¥ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù.

If a man talented in verbal art wishes to write stories or novels, all he need do is develop a style — that is, learn to describe everything he sees and accustom himself to remembering or noting down details. Once he has mastered that, he can ceaselessly write novels or stories, depending on the demand or his own desire — historical, naturalistic, social, erotic, psychological, or even religious, a fashion and demand for which is beginning to appear. He can take plots from his reading or from events he has experienced and copy the characters of the protagonists from his own acquaintances.

¸¸ÀÏ ¾ð¾î ¿¹¼ú¿¡ Àç´É ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷ÀÌ À̾߱⳪ ¼Ò¼³À» ¾²°íÀÚ ÇÑ´Ù¸é, ±×°¡ ÇØ¾ß ÇÒ ÀüºÎ´Â ¹®Ã¼ — Áï, ±×°¡ º¸´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ¹¦»çÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» Å͵æÇÏ°í »ó¼¼ÇÑ ³»¿ëÀ» ±â¾ïÇϰųª ¸Þ¸ðÇØ µÎµç °Í¿¡ Àͼ÷ÇØ Áö´Â °Í — ¸¦ °³¹ßÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×°¡ ÀÏ´Ü ±×°ÍÀ» Á¤º¹Çß´Ù¸é, ±×´Â ²÷ÀÓ¾øÀÌ ¼Ò¼³µé ȤÀº À̾߱âµéÀ», ¼ö¿ä ȤÀº ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¿å¸Á¿¡ µû¶ó, ¿ª»ç, ÀÚ¿¬, »çȸ, ¿¬¾Ö, ½É¸® ȤÀº ½ÉÁö¾î Á¾±³¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °ÍÀ̶óµµ, À¯Çà ¹× ÀÌÁ¦ ³ªÅ¸³ª±â ½ÃÀÛÇÏ´Â ¼ö¿ä¿¡ µû¶ó ¾µ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. ±×´Â ±×°¡ ÀÐÀº °ÍÀ̳ª ±×°¡ °æÇèÇß´ø »ç°Çµé·ÎºÎÅÍ ÁٰŸ®¸¦ Àâ°í ÁÖÀΰøµéÀÌ µÇ´Â µîÀå Àι°µéÀ» ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ ¾Æ´Â »ç¶÷µé·ÎºÎÅÍ º£²¸ ¿Ã ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù.

And such novels and stories, if they are garnished with well-observed and recorded details, best of all erotic ones, will be regarded as works of art, though they lack even a scintilla of experienced feeling.

±×¸®°í ±×·± ¼Ò¼³µé ¹× À̾߱âµéÀº, ÈǸ¢È÷ ¼³¸íÀ» ´Þ°í »ó¼¼È÷ ±â·ÏÇÏ¿© ²Ù¸çÁø´Ù¸é, ¸ðµç ¿¬¾Ö ¼Ò¼³µé Áß¿¡¼­ ÃÖ°í·Î, ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ½ÉÁö¾î ÇÑ Æ¼²øÀÇ °æÇèµÈ ´À³¦µµ Áö´ÏÁö ¾Ê´õ¶óµµ, ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµé·Î ¿©°ÜÁú °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

To produce art in dramatic form, a talented man, along with everything needed for writing a novel or story, must also learn to put into the mouths of his characters as many apt and witty words as possible, to use theatrical effects, and manage so to interweave the actions of the heroes that there is not a single long conversation on the stage, but as much bustle and movement as possible. If a writer knows how to do that, he can write dramatic works ceaselessly, one after the other, choosing his plots from criminal records, or from the latest question that society is taken up with, such as hypnotism, heredity, and so on, or from the most ancient and even fantastic realms.

¿¬±ØÀÇ ÇüÅÂÀÇ ¿¹¼úÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»·Á¸é, Àç´É ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷À̶ó¸é, ¼Ò¼³ ȤÀº À̾߱⸦ ¾²±â À§ÇØ ÇÊ¿äÇÑ ¸ðµç °Í°ú ÇÔ²², ¶ÇÇÑ, ±ØÀûÀÎ È¿°úµéÀ» »ç¿ëÇϱâ À§ÇØ,  ±×ÀÇ µîÀå Àι°µéÀÇ ÀÔ¿¡ °¡´ÉÇÑ ¸¹Àº ÀûÀýÇϰí ÀçÄ¡ ÀÖ´Â ´Ü¾îµéÀ» ¹Ð¾î ³Ö´Â °ÍÀ» ¹è¿ö¾ß Çϸç, ÁÖÀΰøµéÀÇ ÇൿµéÀ» ¿«¾î¼­ ¹«´ë »ó¿¡¼­ ´Ü ÇϳªÀÇ ±ä ´ëÈ­µµ ¾ø°í, °¡´ÉÇÑ ¸¹Àº ºÎ»ê°ú ¼Ò¶õÀ» ¶³µµ·Ï ÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ¸¸ÀÏ ÀÛ°¡°¡ ±×·¸°Ô ÇÏ´Â ¹ýÀ» ¾È´Ù¸é, ±×´Â ±Ø ÀÛǰµéÀ» ²÷ÀÓ ¾øÀÌ ¾µ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±×¶§¸¶´Ù, ±×ÀÇ ÁٰŸ®µéÀ» ¹üÁË ±â·Ïµé¿¡¼­, ȤÀº »çȸ°¡ ´ç¸éÇÑ °¡Àå ÃÖ±ÙÀÇ ¹®Á¦µé·ÎºÎÅÍ, ¿¹·Î µé¸é ÃÖ¸é¼ú,  À¯Àü, µîµî, ȤÀº °¡Àå °í´ëÀÇ ±×¸®°í ½ÉÁö¾î °¡Àå ȯ»óÀûÀÎ ¿µ¿ªµé·ÎºÎÅÍ °ñ¶ó ³»´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

For a man talented in painting or sculpture, it is still easier to produce objects that resemble art. All he needs is to learn to draw, paint or sculpt — especially naked bodies. Once he has learned that, he can ceaselessly paint one painting after another or sculpt one statue after another, choosing, according to his inclination, mythological, religious, fantastic or symbolic subjects, or portraying what is written about in the newspapers — a coronation, a strike, the Graeco-Turkish War, the disasters of famine; or, most commonly, portraying all that seems beautiful, from naked women to copper basins.

ȸȭ ȤÀº Á¶°¢¿¡ Àç´É ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô´Â, ¿¹¼úÀ» ´àÀº ´ë»óµéÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»´Â °ÍÀÌ ÈξÀ ½±´Ù. ±×°¡ ÇØ¾ß ÇÒ ¸ðµç °ÍÀº —  ƯÈ÷, ¹ú°Å¹þÀº À°Ã¼µéÀ»—  ±×¸®°í, Ä¥Çϰí ȤÀº Á¶°¢ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ¹è¿ì´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ÀÏ´Ü ±×°¡ ±×°ÍÀ» ¹è¿ü´Ù¸é, ±×´Â ²÷ÀÓ ¾øÀÌ ÇÑ Æø ¶Ç ÇÑ Æø ±×¸®°Å³ª, ȤÀº ÇÑ Á¶°¢ ¶Ç ÇÑ Á¶°¢À» »õ°Ü ³ª°¥ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ÃëÇâ¿¡ µû¶ó, ½ÅÈ­Àû, Á¾±³Àû ȯ»óÀû ȤÀº »ó¡Àû ÁÖÁ¦µéÀ» ¼±ÅÃÇϰųª, ȤÀº ½Å¹®µé¿¡ ±â·ÏµÇ¾î ÀÖ´Â °Í —  ´ë°ü½Ä, ÆÄ¾÷, ±×¸®½º-Å;îŰ ÀüÀï, ±â±Ù¿¡ ÀÇÇÑ Àç¾Óµé — À»  ; ȤÀº, °¡Àå ÈçÇÑ °ÍÀ¸·Î, ¾Æ¸§´ä°Ô ¿©°ÜÁö´Â ¸ðµç °ÍÀ», ¹ú°Å¹þÀº ¿©Àڵ鿡¼­ ±¸¸® ¼¼¼ý´ë¾ß±îÁö ¹¦»çÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

To produce musical art, a talented man needs still less of what constitutes the essence of art — that is, a feeling which will infect others; but, on the other hand, he needs more physical, gymnastic labour than for any other art, with the possible exception of dancing. To produce works of musical art, one needs first of all to learn to move one¡¯s fingers on some instrument as quickly as those who have reached the highest degree of perfection in it; then, one must leam how polyphonic music was written in the old days — that is, learn what are known as counterpoint and fugue; and then master orchestration — that is, the use of instrumental effects. Once he has learned all that, the musician can then ceaselessly write one work after another: programme music, operas, songs, devising sounds that more or less correspond to the words; or else chamber music — that is, taking other people¡¯s themes and reworking them by means of counterpoint and fugue within defined forms; or, most commonly, a fantastic music, taking combinations of sounds that accidentally come to hand and piling all sorts of complications and adornments on top of these accidental sounds.

À½¾ÇÀû ¿¹¼úÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»·Á¸é, Àç´É ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷À̶ó¸é ¿¹¼úÀÇ º»ÁúÀ» ±¸¼ºÇÏ´Â °Í —  Áï, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀ» °¨¿°½ÃŰ´Â ´À³¦ —  À» ÈξÀ ´ú ÇÊ¿ä·Î ÇÑ´Ù; ±×·¯³ª, ¹Ý´ë·Î, ±×´Â ´Ù¸¥ ¾î¶² ¿¹¼ú º¸´Ù, ¹«¿ëÀÇ °æ¿ì ¾Æ¸¶µµ ¿¹¿Ü°ÚÁö¸¸, ´õÇÑ À°Ã¼ÀûÀ̸ç ÈÆ·ÃÀ» ¿äÇÏ´Â ³ëµ¿À» ÇÊ¿ä·Î ÇÑ´Ù. À½¾Ç ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»±â À§Çؼ­, ¸ÕÀú ƯÁ¤ ¾Ç±â À§¿¡¼­ ¼Õ°¡¶ôµéÀ» °¡´ÉÇÑ »¡¸® ¿òÁ÷ÀÌ´Â °ÍÀ» ¹è¿ö¼­ ±× ¾È¿¡¼­ ÃÖ°íÀÇ ¿Ï¼ºµµ¿¡ µµ´ÞÇÑ »ç¶÷µéó·³ µÇ¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù; ±×¸®°í ³ª¸é, °ú°Å ½Ã´ë¿¡ ´ëÀ§¹ý À½¾ÇÀÌ ¾î¶»°Ô ¾²¿©Á³´ÂÁö —  Áï, ´ëÀ§¹ý ¹× Ç»°¡·Î ¾Ë·ÁÁø °Í —  ¸¦ ¹Ýµå½Ã ¹è¿ö¾ß Çϸç; ±×¸®°í ³ª¸é °üÇö¾Ç —  Áï, ¾Ç±âµéÀÇ È¿°úµéÀÇ »ç¿ë —  À» ¹è¿ö¾ß¸¸ ÇÑ´Ù. ±×°¡ ÀÌ ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ¹è¿ü´Ù¸é, ±× À½¾Ç°¡´Â ÀÌÁ¦ ²÷ÀÓ ¾øÀÌ ÇÑ ÀÛǰ ÇÑ ÀÛǰ ÀÛ°îÇØ ³ª°¥ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù: Ç¥Á¦À½¾Ç, ¿ÀÆä¶óµé, °¡°îµé, ´Ù¼Ò °¡»çµé¿¡ ÀÏÄ¡ÇÏ´Â ¼Ò¸®µéÀ» °í¾ÈÇϰųª; ȤÀº ½Ç³» À½¾Ç — Áï, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ ÁÖÁ¦µéÀ» µû¿Í¼­ ±×°ÍµéÀ» Á¤ÀÇµÈ ÇüÅ ¾È¿¡¼­ ´ëÀ§ ¹× Ç»°¡¸¦ ÀÌ¿ëÇÏ¿© °³ÀÛÇÑ °Í; ȤÀº, °¡Àå ÈçÇÑ °ÍÀ¸·Î, ȯ»óÀûÀÎ À½¾Ç, ¿ì¿¬È÷ ¼Õ¿¡ ÁýÈ÷´Â ¼Ò¸®µéÀ» Á¶ÇÕÇϰí ÀÌµé ¿ì¿¬ÇÑ ¼Ò¸®µéÀÇ ÃÖ»óÀ§¿¡ ¿Â°® ³­ÇØÇÑ ±â¹ýµé ¹× ²Ù¹ÒµéÀ» ½×¾Æ ¿Ã¸° °ÍÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù.

Thus, in all areas of art, counterfeit works are produced by a ready-made, worked-out recipe, which our upper-class public takes for genuine art.

ÀÌ·¸°Ô ÇØ¼­, ¿¹¼úÀÇ ¸ðµç ºÐ¾ßµé¿¡¼­, ¸ðÁ¶ ÀÛǰµéÀÌ ÁøºÎÇϰí, ¹Ì¸® ¸¶·ÃµÈ ó¹æ¿¡ ÀÇÇØ »ý»êµÇ°í, ¿ì¸®ÀÇ »ó·ù °è±Þ ´ëÁßÀº À̰ÍÀ» ÁøÂ¥ ¿¹¼ú·Î ¿©±â´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.

And this replacement of works of art by counterfeits is the third and most important consequence of the separation of upper-class art from the art of the whole people.

±×¸®°í ¸ðÁ¶Ç°µé¿¡ ÀÇÇÑ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛǰµéÀÇ ÀÌ¿Í °°Àº ´ëü´Â »ó·ù °è±Þ ¿¹¼úÀÌ Àüü ¹ÎÁßÀÇ ¿¹¼ú·ÎºÎÅÍ ºÐ¸®µÈ ¼¼ ¹øÂ°ÀÌÀÚ °¡Àå Áß¿äÇÑ °á°úÀÌ´Ù.
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XII

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Three conditions contribute to the production in our society of objects of counterfeit art. These conditions are: (1) the considerable remuneration of artists for their works and the resultant establishing of the artist as a professional, (2) art criticism, and (3) art schools.

¼¼°¡Áö »óȲµéÀÌ ¿ì¸® »çȸ¿¡¼­ ¸ðÁ¶ ¿¹¼úǰµéÀÇ »ý»ê¿¡ ±â¿©ÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌµé ¼¼°¡Áö »óȲµéÀº: (1) ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀÇ ÀÛǰµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ó´çÈ÷ ¸¹Àº º¸¼ö ¹× ±×¿¡ µû¸¥ Á÷¾÷Àû ¿¹¼ú°¡ÀÇ È®¸³, (2) ¿¹¼ú ºñÆò, ¹× (3) ¿¹¼úÇб³µéÀÌ´Ù.

As long as art was undivided, and only religious art was appreciated and encouraged, while indifferent art was not, there were no counterfeit works of art; or, if there were, being subject to the judgment of the whole people, they would drop away at once. But as soon as the division had been accomplished, and people of the wealthy classes recognized any art as good so long as it afforded pleasure, and this pleasu