The second point is Plato's estimate of artistic genius. The artist does not work by reason, but by inspiration. He does not, or he should not, create the beautiful by means of rules, or by the application of principles. It is only after the work of art is created that the critic discovers rules in it. This does not mean that the discovery of rules is false, but that the artist follows them unconsciously and instinctively. If, for example, we believe Aristotle's dictum that the object of tragedy {232} is to purge the heart by terror and pity, we do not mean that the tragedian deliberately sets out to accomplish that end. He does so without knowing or intending it. And this kind of instinctive impulse we call the inspiration of the artist. Now Plato fully recognizes these facts. But far from considering inspiration something exalted, he thinks it, on the contrary, comparatively low and contemptible, just because it is not rational. He calls it "divine madness," divine indeed, because the artist produces beautiful things, but madness because he himself does not know how or why he has done it. The poet says very wise and beautiful things, but he does not know why they are wise and beautiful. He merely feels, and does not understand anything. His inspiration, therefore, is not on the level of knowledge, but only of right opinion, which knows what is true, but does not know why. Plato's views of art are thus not satisfactory. He is doubtless right in placing inspiration below reason, and art below philosophy. They do stand to each other in the relation of higher and lower. Not that such a question can be decided by mere personal preferences. The usual discussions whether art or philosophy is better, whether emotion or reason is higher, are pointless and insipid, because the disputants merely exalt their personal peculiarities. The man of artistic temperament naturally prefers art, and says it is the highest. The philosopher exalts philosophy above art, merely because it is his pet hobby. This kind of discussion is futile. The matter must be decided upon some principle. And the principle is quite clear. Both art and philosophy have the same object, the {233} apprehension of the Absolute, or the Idea. Philosophy apprehends it as it is in itself, that is to say, as thought. Art apprehends it in a merely sensuous form. Philosophy apprehends it in its truth, art in a comparatively untrue way. Philosophy, therefore, is the higher. But while any true philosophy of art must recognize this, it must not interpret it to mean that art is to be made merely a means towards philosophy. It must somehow find room for the recognition of the truth that art is an end in itself, and it is in this that Plato fails.