Virtuoso and Dilettante

Bülow wrote a series of articles titled “Words and Concepts,” in which he emphasized the difference—indeed, the contradiction—that has crept in over time between the original meaning of certain foreign words and the sense later assigned to them through common usage. And now Bülow himself^[1] works particularly energetically to restore the proper designations for Virtuoso and Dilettante.

“To counteract the disgraceful misuse of these expressions means rehabilitating them. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, they serve depreciatory judgments and seem to belong only in the fault-finding dictionary of the music critic. By contrasting both with the true artist, one wants to understand by Dilettante a bungling artist (contradictio in adjecto), by Virtuoso an all-too-finished artist (nonsense). This is, as the Berliner says, ‘against all reason’—namely a willful injury to the charter of sound human understanding.

Both expressions come from Italian. Virtuoso is originally an adjective meaning ‘skilled, capable,’ derived from virtù (virtue, strength). The word stems from the Latin ‘vir’ (man) and describes someone who possesses artistic qualities. Dilettant, that is ‘uno, che si diletta’ means ‘one who takes pleasure in something,’ especially in the fine arts—thus an art lover. And since one must first know a thing in order to love it, he is also an art connoisseur. If these two foreign words could have been protected from misinterpretation and misuse, it should have been these, one would think.

In the famous cellar scene of Goethe’s Faust, the question is most succinctly answered in two lines:

Frosch (to Mephisto): Are you perhaps a virtuoso? Mephisto: Oh no! The strength is weak, but the desire is great.

The matter could not be put more clearly: desire (Dilettante) and strength (Virtuoso), the latter, however, inconceivable without the former, which awakens its activity.”

As one of the highest requirements of the reproductive artist, Bülow designated “eloquence” in the language of feeling. With true eloquence, we might speak of the epithet “moving.” With genuine eloquence, one could say “impression-awakening.” To awaken impressions—strong, deeply moving impressions in the soul of the listener—that is the task and simultaneously the reward of the reproductive artist, who in his highest perfection may then, in the truest sense of the word, be given the nickname of virtuoso. First as a servant of the composer, of the creator of the What, he rises through his creation of the How from this What to the rank of a liberated artist, sometimes even to that of a fellow citizen of the composer.

In theatrical virtuosity, other requirements arise according to the nature of the drama. I wanted to protest only against the misuse of the expression Virtuoso in this field as well, after indicating what belongs to such a thing in music. I wanted to protest that people are called virtuosos who deserve to be called only: musicians, comedians.

Musicians! Comedians! With this Goethe was right when the artist of profession and trade called this word to him in a dismissive or disparaging sense. And indeed, the narrow-minded guild member who uses the word “Dilettante” synonymously with “bungler” is wrong and deserves the punishing rebuke. Therefore, because someone occupies himself with the beautiful arts out of pleasure and inclination, not for the sake of earning a living, one should not automatically assume that his engagement with them must be superficial, light, casual—impotent. Precisely because he “doesn’t need to,” he would be capable of satisfying his inclination with that genuine objectivity, with that impersonal, pure and thus truly ethical seriousness that forms the sharp opposite to that bestial seriousness with which people conduct all their professional and career advancement-related business in order to secure continued existence.

So status and trade do nothing for the concept; they should not define it. To call the private amateur artist—in contrast to the public, professional artist—a dilettante would be an all-too-external procedure. It therefore seems advisable to maintain Auerbach’s simple, clear distinction. Dilettante: connoisseur and lover; Artist: knower and doer. This relationship of desire and strength then materializes into that of receiver and giver, thus of consumer and producer. But—and hereby the national-economic viewpoint in the art field is significantly modified—the receiver wants to be educated, the lover must also be a connoisseur, and what belongs to the fulfillment of this condition, namely self-education in the art in question, I have indicated above. Artist and Dilettante presuppose each other; thus the masculine and feminine principles speak to each other knowingly. From a Dilettante in the good sense, as I wish to suggest, in the proper sense of the word, I demand what should be understandably called receptive geniality; since receptive geniality is rarer than productive and reproductive, the Dilettantes form the avant-garde of the artist’s public. — Therefore respect for the capable Dilettante, the guiding star of the multitudinous herd, and restraint from misusing the good word “diletto” for the desire that vainly builds itself up to strength, for the inability to will. Let us designate with “Dilettante” the understanding enjoyer of the beautiful, not an unprofessional, powerless intruder into the priesthood, who in his true name is called bungler! (1864.)