The great Amherst College professor Theodore Baird, my first Shakespere teacher and my correspondent for thirty years, told how going from Hobart to Harvard--taking Shakespeare with Kittredge--the "only intellectual argument" in the graduate school was between John Livingston Lowes (the Road to Xnadu) and Irving Babbit, who found Romanticism responsible for the decline of civilization. In his intro, Babbit says, "the total tendency of the Occident at present is away from, rather than toward civilization"(1919 ed, p.x). In a point pertinent now, "establishing a sound type of individualism is indeed the specifically modern problem"--and I would add a century later, the specifically American problem, since we are awash with weapons and massacres, and our constitution guarantees that we wear targets on our backs. (We should insist gun-owners take out insurance, as we do for also deadly cars, and they should wear real targets, as the rest of us wear metaphorical ones.)
Matthew Arnold and Renan meant by the "modern spirit" the critical spirit that refuses to take things on authority: this creates an emergency, the break from the past. Those supporting the modern spirit have tended to deny the duality of human nature that Christianity holds. Moreover, "Perhaps the most pernicious of the conceits fostered by the type of progress we owe to science is the conceit that we have outgrown this older experience."(xviii) Having outgrown older experience is a common American idea, nearly universal.
"Romantic" focuses on the wonderful rather than the probable, while "classic" on something not unique, representative of a class. "The uncultivated human imagination in all times and places is romantic in the same way. It hungers for the thrilling and marvellous, and is, in short, incurably melodramatic. All children...and most men ...probably always will be romantic." Looking at American film, the superheroes, the melodramatic conflicts, appealing to teens ("children") who are the only dependable film-goers: the "uncultivated...hunger for the thrilling and marvellous"(5).
Rousseau was the first to use the term, "creative imagination" in remarking on his erotic fantasies (Les Confessions, Bk IX). "Illusion" involves "imagination," a fairly recent notion: A world of imagination would be called by a Hindu, the World as Illusion (māyā), or by Aristotle, the World as Fiction.
Goethe said art gives the "illusion of higher reality." And Voltaire said thet "illusion is queen of the human heart" (42). The Wordsworthian/ Romantic desire for the simple life, Santayana denied to most people: "Nothing is farther from the common people than the corrupt desire to be primitive." Horace's ironic poem on the joys of the simple life is spoken by the old usurer Alfinus, who at the end puts out his money again" (77).
Rousseauistic individualism, in effect, wars against both classical and Christian traditions. Babbit sees the Renaissance as the breaking away of man, and the critical spirit, from theological restraint, which saw human nature as bankrupt. The later Renaissance finally arrived at what might be called the "Jesuitical comprimise": the Church consented to make religion easier, less ascetic. One could live inwardly on the naturalistic level while outwardly going through the motions of a profound piety.
There is an unmistakeable analogy between the hollowness of a religion of this type and the hollowness one feels in so much neo-classical decorum. The Jesuitical system is in all respects so ingenious, and in some respects so admirable: the Greek and Latin classics are taught in such a way as to become literary playthings rather than the basis, a philosophy of life-- a humanism that is external and rhetorical rather than vital, combined with a religion that tends to stress submission to outer authority at the expense of inwardness and individuality. (118)
Babbit's fine point on Rousseau's "Discours sur les Sciences": "If man had not been so heartened by scientifc progress they would have been less ready...to listen to Rousseau when he affirmed that they were naturally good" (122). Rousseau virtually denies the struggle of good and evil, sees evil as the impositions of society; he minimizes moral struggle and choice, and drifts toward naturalistic fatalism.(Ch V)
(By the way, Babbit sees Christian "humility" as an expression of the deterioration of the Roman Empire.)
Rousseau's idealism meets a particular craving in the "psychology of the half-educated man": the "half-educated man is incurably restless, filled with every manner of desire. In contrast, the uneducated and the cultivated both share a few simple desires, like Socrates.
The romantic object is elusive, because it is not strictly an object at all but "a dalliance of the imagination with its own dream: Cats, says Rivarol, do not caress us; they caress themselves upon us. Cats suffer from what the new realist calls the egocentric predicament*, but they can hardly vie in the involutions of their egotism with the Romantic lover.(225)
Babbit concludes, "It is not easy to take such...universal dreamig seriously. In the long run, the dreamer himself [may not]. His attempts to live his chimera result, as we have seen in the case of romantic love, in more or less disastrous disillusion and defeat. The disillusioned romanticist continues to cling to his dream, but intellectually he often stands aloof from it."(239)
To conclude with Bourget, where B started: "All those who took the romantic promises at their face value rolled in abysses of despair and ennui.."(xvi, from Bourget's Essais de Psychologie)
* This sounds so much like my great friend and author of the Romantic Sublime, Tom Weiskel, the heroic parodist in my latest book, Parodies Lost.