{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_55731/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_55731","id":"gutenberg_55731","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55731","summary":null,"tags":["Aesthetics","Category: Art","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Poetry"],"text":"THE PHILOSOPHY OF\n\nFINE ART\n\nBY\n\nG. W. F. HEGEL\n\nTRANSLATED, WITH NOTES, BY\n\nF. P. B. OSMASTON, B.A.\n\nAUTHOR OF \"THE ART AND GENIUS OF TINTORET,\" \"AN ESSAY\nON THE FUTURE OF POETRY,\" AND OTHER WORKS\n\nVOL. IV\n\nLONDON\n\nG. BELL AND SONS, LTD.\n\n\n1920\n\n\n\n\n    CONTENTS OF VOL. IV\n\n    SUBSECTION III\n\n    THE ROMANTIC ARTS_--continued_\n\n    CHAPTER III\n\n    POETRY\n\n\n    Introduction\n\n    [Summary and contrast between poetry and the other\n    particular arts. Its relation to the other two romantic\n    arts. Absence of all external sensuous presence.\n    Poetry appeals to imaginative vision. Not so direct as\n    sense-perception. Advantage over painting through its\n    ability to display facts in their historical succession or\n    natural process. Far profounder and more extended embrace\n    of world of idea than in music; due to its greater power\n    of definition in speech and its use of tone merely as a\n    subordinate instrument. The content of poetry is the ideal\n    envisagement of imaginative content itself. Everything made\n    intelligible by language may form part of content, subject\n    to the condition that it is poetical. Analysis of what\n    this condition implies. The imagination of artist must be\n    Contributive; distinction from mere prose consciousness and\n    thinking. In its entire independence of the material of\n    sense it may be defined as the universal art. The material\n    is the imagination, and as such conjoint with all the arts.\n    It is, however, not the only art open to philosophical\n    review on this ground. It marks, however, the commencement\n    of the disintegration of Art, its bridge of passage to the\n    notion of religion and philosophical thought]\n\n    Subdivision of subject-matter\n\n    I. Poetical composition as distinguished from that of Prose\n\n    1. The poetical and prosaic composition\n\n    (_a_) The world of natural or prosaic fact relatively\n    excluded. Primarily what it deals with is the infinite\n    domain of Spirit and the energies of its life\n\n    (_b_) Distinction between poetical and prosaic conception 21\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Poetical anterior to the prosaic form of artistic\n    speech. It is the original imaginative grasp of truth. Dates\n    from first effort of man at self-expression. Endeavours to\n    make that expression of a higher virtue than mere prose\n\n    (_\u03b2_) The kind of prose life from which poetry is separate\n    postulates a different kind of conception and speech. The\n    finite categories of the understanding applicable to the\n    former. The ideal rationale of fact is aimed at by poetry.\n    Its affinity with and distinction from pure thought\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Difference between the relation of poetic conception\n    to prosaic in early times and more modern, where the prosaic\n    form of life has become stereotyped in a definite system]\n\n    (_c_) The nature of the differentiation of poetical activity\n    in different ages and nations\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) It has no particular epoch of unique celebration. It\n    embraces the collective Spirit of man. It is conditioned by\n    the outlook of various nations and epochs\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Some of these have closer affinity with its essential\n    spirit, _e.g.,_ the Oriental in comparison with the Western\n    nations, if we exclude Greece\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Modern interest in Hellenic and certain portions of\n    Oriental poetry]\n\n    2. The Art-product of poetry and prose\n\n    (_a_) The artistic composition of poetry generally\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) It must possess intrinsic unity. The action must be\n    conceived as that of particular men or women. There must be\n    vital coalescence of characters, events, and actions. Unity\n    in the nature of a process and a differentiation of parts\n    which coalesce therein\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Nature of this organic differentiation and synthesis.\n    Tendency of Art to particularization. Delight in detail.\n    Nature of its treatment of such detail. Result, a secure\n    self-subsistency\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Substantive unity preserved. Display of particular\n    features, despite all opposition, must combine in a union\n    of mysterious accord. The unity is essential and organic. It\n    is the soul of the entirety. Parallel in musical trichord.\n    Varied type of artistic form in the Epic, the Drama, and the\n    Lyric]\n\n    (_b_) History and oratory compared with the poetical product\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) The arts of history and oratory come into closest\n    affinity with poetical composition. History implies great\n    ends, cannot rest content with mere chronicles. Herodotus,\n    Thucydides, Xenophon, and Tacitus. Products of the art of\n    language, but not entirely free art. The nature of the\n    historical content prohibits this. The prosaic element in\n    the historical age and the historical treatment defined\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Oratory appears to be closer to the freedom of Art.\n    The orator appeals to the whole man. It is directed to\n    the enunciation of principles. It is none the less almost\n    wholly relative to the rule of practical utility. Religious\n    oratory. It is in the service of a collateral purpose]\n\n    (_c_) The free poetical work of Art\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) The attitude of the poet in his work, to contingent\n    and insignificant fact and local conditions, actions,\n    events, etc.\n\n    (_\u03b2_) The end of Art not practical as in oratory. Nor is it\n    to edification. _Poems d'occasion_\n\n    (_\u03b3_) It is an essentially infinite (self-rounded) organism.\n    Permeated with a principle of unity. Independent of any one\n    particular condition of Life or Nature]\n\n    3. The creative impulse of the Poet\n\n    [(_a_) Less under restriction in respect to his medium. The\n    problem proposed in one respect more easy, and in another\n    more difficult than that of the other arts. Technical\n    control of the medium which is easier makes the demand for\n    imaginative penetration the greater\n\n    (_b_) Being operative in the realm of imaginative idea\n    itself poetry has to guard against encroaching upon\n    the spheres of religion, philosophy, and the ordinary\n    consciousness as such 53\n\n    (_c_) To a greater extent than in the other arts the poet\n    has transfused the external mode of envisagement, which\n    he creates, with the vitality of soul-life. Mohammedan\n    poetry. The creative energy must be absolutely free from all\n    restrictions imposed by the material handled]\n\n    II. The Expression of Poetry\n\n    1. The poetical Conception\n\n    (_a_) Poetical conception in its origins\n    [In its origin not consciously distinct from the prosaic\n    or scientific consciousness. In general terms the poetic\n    imagination is plastic. Illustration of difference between\n    the concrete poetical image and the abstract concept]\n\n    (_b_) Distinction between poetic mode of conception and that\n    of prose. Language of poetical metaphor and imagery less\n    accurate than the definition of prosaic fact\n\n    (_c_) Exceptional difficulties which confront the poet of\n    a world where the distinction between ordinary prose life\n    and imagination is emphasised. Artificial appearance of his\n    creations. Difficulty of retaining spontaneous simplicity\n    and freshness\n\n    2. Verbal Expression\n\n    (_a_) Poetical speech generally\n\n    [Another mode of speech necessitated by the fact that the\n    world of poetry and art in general should not be identical\n    with that of ordinary life, or that of science and religion]\n    65\n\n    (_b_) The means by which this is realized\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Particular words and expressions only proper to\n    poetry. Entitled to borrow from language forms obsolete in\n    ordinary speech. The invention exercised in creating novel\n    modes of utterance\n\n    (_\u03b2_) The relative order of words admits of change; how the\n    licence in this respect may be abused and degenerate into\n    rhetoric and declamation\n\n    (_\u03b3_) The periods of poetical construction composed in\n    accordance with the ideality of the soul-experience\n    embodied]\n\n    (_c_) Distinctions in the use of these means\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Poetry in the age where poetry is the one revealer of\n    spiritual truth. Force of creative power and simplicity of\n    diction most obvious features. Creation of a poetic diction\n    by Dante\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Distinction from above in an age where prose diction\n    already elaborated. Expression of poetry becomes more\n    elaborate and eventually more self-conscious and rhetorical.\n    The poetry of Rome. The satire. Spanish poetry\n\n    (_\u03b3_) The nature of genuine poetical expression. Spontaneity\n    above all essential]\n\n    3. Versification.\n\n    [Only a superficial view would banish it. It is implied in\n    the demand that the medium should be elaborated by Art and\n    that the realm entered should be other than every-day life]\n\n    (_a_) Rhythmical Versification (that is, without rhyme)\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Made by time-duration and the movement. Starting\n    point in the natural length and shortness of syllables.\n    The distinctions of the sound of words in consonants and\n    vowels contribute the basis of this. Description and\n    illustration. Poetry regulates the accidental interchange\n    of various syllables and words. Time-duration. Nature of\n    dactyl, anapaest, etc. It further regulates the particular\n    time-relations in a series of verse-lines. The iambic metre,\n    etc. Problem of time-beats in the metre of the ancients. No\n    necessity as in music for abstract time-beat\n\n    (_\u03b2_) The accent and caesura. Every time-relation has its\n    particular accent. Particular feet ought not with abstract\n    precision to be identical with beginning and conclusion of\n    single words. The caesura checks the monotony of measure.\n    Further independent verbal accent. Fundamental influence\n    on the measure of the poetical idea. Also a definite type\n    of content corresponds with the entire character of a\n    particular verse-measure. The use of hexameter, elegiacs,\n    and iambics in this respect\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Rhythmical versification embraces the actual musical\n    sound of syllables and words. The stem-syllable in the Greek\n    and Latin languages. Aspects of the German language in this\n    respect. In modern languages the element of rhythm less room\n    for display. This in itself necessitates the alternative of\n    rhyme as a resistant against the too exclusive assertion of\n    ideal content]\n\n    (_b_) Rhyme\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Rhyme a necessary feature of romantic poetry. Closer\n    approximation to music. Reaction against the stringent\n    character of Roman poetry. Source of rhyme in Germanic\n    languages\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Difference between two systems. Rhythmical\n    versification supreme in Hellenic poetry. Most important\n    change effected that of the validity of the national\n    quantity in the older system. This replaced by the intrinsic\n    meaning of syllables and words. French and Italian poetry an\n    extreme example of the collapse of the former system. The\n    necessity of rhyme and its character analysed\n\n    (_\u03b3_) The types of modern romantic poetry. Its alliteration,\n    assonance, and ordinary rhyme. Scandinavian poetry. Not\n    necessary for assonant words to come only at conclusion of\n    line. Rhyme is the fulfilment of alliteration and assonance.\n    Pre-eminently the form of lyric poetry. Examples]\n\n    (_c_) The union of rhythm and rhyme\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Attempt made in modern times to return to the\n    natural quantity of syllables. Not generally successful.\n    Overwhelming importance in modern verse of intelligible\n    significance and the accent thus asserted\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Not possible to retain the plastic consistency of\n    the metrical medium as secured by classical poetry. Modern\n    languages do not possess the stable quantitative basis\n\n    (_\u03b3_) The combination equivalent to the absorption by modern\n    versification of the older system. The significance of\n    the identical repetition of the same time-measure. Modern\n    imitation of sapphics and alcaics based on a contradiction]\n\n    III. The Several Generic Types of Poetry\n\n    Introduction and Division of Subject\n\n    A. Epic Poetry\n\n    1. General character of Epic poetry\n\n    (_a_) Epigrams and Gnomes\n\n    (_b_) Philosophical didactic poems, Cosmogonies and\n    Theogonies\n\n    (_c_) The genuine Epopaea\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) The saga, the bible of a folk. Not every national\n    bible can rank as Epos. Greeks possess no ancient religious\n    books resembling Hindoo literature\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Not necessarily composed in the heroic time itself.\n    Homer. Views expressed which belong to earlier times\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Position of the epic poet. His work a free creation.\n    He must feel at home in the world he depicts. Objective\n    independence of composition. The work of one artist]\n\n    2. Particular Characteristics of true Epos\n\n    (_a_) The general World-condition of the Epos\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) A positive social state conjoined to primitive\n    simplicity. Intuitive sense of right the support of moral\n    order. Vital human association with nature and particular\n    objects possessed. Heroic condition, _e.g.,_ that of free\n    individuality. Examples. Expresses entire horizon of\n    national condition\n\n    (_\u03b2_) The mirror must be of one particular people. The\n    Hellenic spirit in Homer. A foreign locale not necessarily\n    prejudicial to artistic effect. The remoteness to present\n    ideas of the \"Niebelungen Lied\"\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Main event of poem must be a deliberately conceived\n    purpose. It must imply collisions. The belligerent condition\n    most pertinent. The Odyssey not only an exception. Courage\n    the fundamental interest. Justification of such attitude]\n\n    (_b_) The individual Epic action\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Must be one of individual vitality. Must appropriate\n    form of an event, and the happening of such. Analysis.\n    Problem of an absolute Epos. Mere biography not most\n    complete subject-matter. \"The Divine Comedy\" only partially\n    an exception\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Question of human personality implied. Epic character\n    must be a totality. Achilles, the Cid, and other heroes,\n    discussed. Circumstances as active as persons. Illustrations\n\n    (_\u03b3_) The form under which the intrinsic significance of\n    the occurrence proclaims itself, whether as ideal Necessity\n    or disclosed spiritual forces. Destiny. What it defines.\n    General tone of sadness in the Epic. Different modes of\n    appearance. Poems of Ossian, and others. Loss of original\n    freshness in Latin poetry. Virgil]\n\n    (_c_) The Epos as unified totality\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) The unity of the assumed general background and\n    the individuals therein. Humanity displayed in its entire\n    collective relation of all interests and occupations. The\n    individual event. The commencement of the Iliad and Odyssey\n\n    (_\u03b2_) The difference between the epic mode of disclosure and\n    that of the Lyric or drama. Greater extension of range. In\n    the epic work character may give way to external condition.\n    Objective nature of its exposition. Motivisation of drama\n    and the Epic entirely different. Examples from Homer and\n    modern poetry\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Nature of unity of Epos. Though not of most importance\n    essential to artistic result. Insistence upon fundamental\n    unity of the Homeric poems. Epic unity within a national\n    whole. Distinction from dramatic action. The Idyll. The\n    novel as the Epopaea of modern society]\n\n    3. The historical development of epic Poetry\n\n    (_a_) The Oriental Epos\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Epos of Hindoos and Persians. The sense of the unity\n    of the One Substance\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Contrast between Hindoo and Persian Epos. The Ramajana\n    and Maha-Bharata\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Hebrew Epic poetry]\n\n    (_b_) Epic poetry of Greece and Rome\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Essential unity of Iliad and Odyssey. The _ne plus\n    ultra_ of attainment. The cyclic poets\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Roman Epos cannot compare in quality with the Greek\n    prototype]\n\n    (_c_) The Romantic Epos.\n\n    [The poems of Ossian. The Edda. National character of epic\n    poems of Middle Ages. \"The Cid.\" The peculiar nature of\n    Dante's \"Divine Comedy.\" The poems relating to Charlemagne,\n    King Arthur, etc. The revolt against Chivalry in Ariosto and\n    Cervantes. The \"Lysiad\" of Camoens. Milton's \"Paradise Lost\"\n    and Klopstock's \"Messias\"]\n\n    B. Lyric Poetry\n\n    1. General character of lyric poetry\n\n    (_a_) The content of lyric poetry\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Not merely translation of content from immediacy of\n    experience. Creation of object purified from the incidental\n    mood. Deliverance thus effected. Self-expression not the\n    development of objective action. We have the universal as\n    such. The entire sphere of human belief, religion, art, and\n    to some extent scientific thought comprised as they fall\n    into a personal view of the world\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Aspect of particularity. The Eumenides chorus in the\n    \"Cranes\" of Ibicus. The Elegy and Epistle\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Emphasis throughout on personal feeling. Parallel with\n    genre painting. Contingency of content. Growth of whole in\n    temperament]\n\n    (_b_) The form of the same\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Unity different from that of Epos. Mysterious\n    intimacy of personal mood. Approximates to Epos in heroic\n    songs, ballads, and romances. The Greek Anthology\n\n    (_\u03b2_) _Poems d'occasion._ Personal aspect. Pindaric Odes.\n    Goethe. Individual soul supplied focus of unity rather than\n    positive reality\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Point of departure an external occurrence either in\n    personal experience or that of others. Element of narrative\n    as in songs of Anacreon]\n\n    (_c_) The external culture condition of the Lyric.\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Different from that of Epic. Not limited to one\n    particular epoch, but exceptionally displayed in modern\n    times. Folk-songs and the lyric poem\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Possesses a power of free expansion into all kinds of\n    subject-matter, a free recognition of imaginative conception\n    no less than artistic activity\n\n    (_\u03b3_) The philosophical lyric poem. A false and a genuine\n    style compared. Schiller's poetry]\n\n    2. Particular aspects of the Lyric\n\n    (a) The lyric poet\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) The poet himself supplies the principle of\n    combination. He is the focus of unity 214\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Spontaneity of result. Sings because he cannot help\n    it. His object himself. Self-respect. Pindar and Klopstock\n\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Creative in dealing with personal experience. Goethe a\n    fine example]\n\n    (_b_) The lyric work of art\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) The unity of the Lyric. Springs from memory or vivid\n    association of poet. The formal unity of self-conscious\n    life. Mood must be defined in its concreteness, not tend too\n    much to generalization\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Nature of the progressive disclosure of content. The\n    principle of the Lyric is assimilation. Poems limited to\n    local description. Mainly a definition of emotional forces\n    made vital in objects as seen by the \"inward eye.\" Episodes\n    permissible. Passionate intensity in its freedom\n\n    (_\u03b3_) External form of the Lyric. Variety of metres. Varied\n    use of caesura. Strophes which admit of much alternation,\n    both as to length of line, and their rhythmic structure.\n    Musical sound of words and syllables. Free use of assonance,\n    alliteration and rhyme, especially the diversified use of\n    last-mentioned. Association with musical accompaniment]\n\n    (_c_) Types of the genuine Lyric\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Hymns, dithyrambs, paeans and psalms. Personal\n    religious emotion. Greek treatment of chorus. Psalms of Old\n    Testament\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Personal life of poet the subject-matter. Not so much\n    the subject as the enthusiasm or personal note. Pindaric\n    Odes. Horace. Klopstock\n\n    (_\u03b3_) The song as such. A field of blossom ever starting\n    anew. The Oriental and Western type. Anacreon. Protestant\n    hymns. Sonnet, elegy, epistle, etc. Dithyrambic emotion of\n    Schiller] 230\n\n    3. Historical evolution of the Lyric\n\n    (_a_) Oriental lyrical poetry\n\n    [Vital absorption in the object. Objective character as\n    compared with pure romantic. Hymns of exaltation. Metaphor,\n    image, and simile particularly favoured. Present in Chinese,\n    Hindoo, Hebrew, Arab and Persian poetry]\n\n    (_b_) The Lyric of the Greeks and Romans\n\n    [General character that of classic individuality.\n    Image and metaphor not so largely used. Emphasizes mainly on\n    the sensuous verbal quantity in the rhythm of its movement.\n    The dance not unfrequently attached. Point of departure\n    hymns. Elegiac measure. The lyric of the chorus. Pindar.\n    Roman lyric less original]\n\n    (_c_) Romantic Lyric.\n\n    [In certain nations epic material treated as lyrical\n    narrative. Lyric composition of modern nations still pagan.\n    In the Christian Middle Ages. That based on the principle of\n    Protestantism. Klopstock and his influence]\n\n    C. Dramatic Poetry\n\n    1. The Drama as a poetic work of art\n\n    (_a_) The principle of dramatic poetry\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Depends on conditions of collision, human passion,\n    and characters. Leads to action and resolution\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Mediation between epic and lyric poetry. Has to bring\n    before vision action or event, but it is self-conscious\n    personality which is the vital force. Dramatic action must\n    submit to a process of development. Has to exhibit not so\n    much lyrical emotion as situation. Action the executed\n    will recognized as such in its ultimate purpose. The\n    external world only borrowed in so far as it is bound to\n    this purpose. More concentrated than the Epic. Action so\n    treated that it inevitably meets with opposition. Nature of\n    the divine forces operative. The Drama propounds the vital\n    energy of a principle of Necessity\n\n    (_\u03b3_) The nature of the demand on the dramatic poet in\n    respect to the divine energy. The drama is the resolution\n    of the one-sided aspect of these powers, the self-stability\n    whereof is disclosed in dramatic character]\n\n    (_b_) Dramatic Composition\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) The unity as contrasted with the Epos and the Lyric.\n    Unity of place, time, and action. First no support to from\n    Aristotle. Nature of demand upon the imagination relative\n    to fact of direct vision. Unity of action alone invariable.\n    Romantic drama less consistent than classical. Examples from\n    Shakespeare\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Mode of _d\u00e9nouement._ Embrace of material in Epos\n    more extensive. Mean between that and lyrical poetry.\n    True dramatic progression, a continuous movement onwards\n    to catastrophe. Possesses a beginning, middle and end.\n    Aristotle. Significance of acts and their number. In\n    English, French, and German drama generally five\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Nature of means, _e.g.,_ dramatic diction, etc.\n    Realistic mode of expression as contrasted with one\n    conventional to the theatre. Must neither be too formal nor\n    too unpolished or colloquial. Choral interlude, monologue,\n    and dialogue. Verse-measure mainly iambic]\n\n    (_c_) The relation of the dramatic composition to the Public\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Distinct Public to cater for and under obligation to\n    it. Fashion of German writers to scorn the Public. Mistaken\n    view. How far possible to reproduce foreign or ancient drama\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Dramatis personae must be vital not merely personified\n    interests. Real emphasis on the collision involved. Goethe's\n    \"Iphigeneia\"\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Attitude of poet himself. The impression of the\n    whole as the product of one original creative force most\n    important. Necessity that the dramatic poet master the\n    eternal and essential foundation of human character and\n    action. Worst case where he seeks to flatter a popular\n    prejudice. Reference to contemporary event. Aristophanes.\n    Didactic matter only admissible in so far as it is no bar to\n    the freedom of the entire artistic product]\n\n    2. The external Technique of a dramatic Composition\n\n    (_a_) The reading or recitation of a dramatic work\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) True sensuous medium of drama the human voice. Modern\n    plays often impracticable in the theatre. Contrast of Greek\n    drama in this respect\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Plays written for perusal only. Theatrical\n    reproduction a real test of dramatic vitality. Question\n    whether dramatic works should be printed\n\n    (_\u03b3_) Perusal no sufficient test of the acting possibilities\n    of a drama. Recitation subject to the serious restriction\n    that it is the expression of one voice only]\n\n    (_b_) The art of the Actor\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Among the Greeks acting affiliated to sculpture.\n    Ancients added music to declamation. Means of interpretation\n    in motion of the body. The dance. Plastic character of Greek\n    performance\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Speech used solely as spiritual expression in modern\n    acting. Coalescence of actor's personality with his r\u00f4le.\n    Facial expression. Increase particularisation in modern\n    character. Illustrations. Increase of difficulties. Modern\n    actor an artist]\n\n    (_c_) The theatrical art which is more independent of Poetry\n\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Plays written for the display of the particular\n    talent of actors. The Italian _commedia dell' arte._ French\n    attitude to audience\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Modern opera. Luxurious display of scenic accessories.\n    Schiller's \"Maid of Orleans.\" Mozart's \"Magic Flute\"\n\n    (_\u03b3_) The Ballet. The proper subordination of the dance]\n\n    3. Types of dramatic poetry and the chief phases of their\n    historical development\n\n    (_a_) The principle of Tragedy, Comedy, and the Play\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) The principle as associated with tragedy in its\n    essential and primitive form. The content of tragic action\n    supplied by spiritual forces which carry with them their\n    own justification, _e.g._, love of husband, wife, parents,\n    or children, patriotism, social life, etc. The substance\n    in which the greatness and stability of the tragic hero\n    consists. Theme of primitive tragedy generally the godlike\n    in its mundane character. Forces realized as the determinate\n    aim of human pathos. A collision in which both aspects are\n    justified from one point of view. Tragic resolution of\n    division. Meaning of Aristotle's dictum that tragedy excites\n    and purifies fear and pity. Sense of reconciliation 295\n\n    (_\u03b2_) In Tragedy what is eternally substantive is vindicated\n    under a mode of reconciliation. In Comedy the purely\n    personal experience retains the mastery throughout. Nature\n    of social basis of comedy. The comic. The conception of it\n    in Moli\u00e8re and Aristophanes. Requires a resolution even more\n    strongly than tragedy\n\n    (_\u03b3_) The Satyric drama. Plautus. The modern dramatic play.\n    Illustrations from classical drama. Boundary lines fluctuate\n    more than in the case of genuine tragedy and comedy.\n    Tendency to pass from poetic form altogether. Theatrical\n    pieces exhibited for mere display of histrionic talent or\n    psychological analysis, or as a mere social relaxation]\n\n    (_b_) The difference between ancient and modern Drama\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) No genuine Oriental dramatic art. Principle of\n    individual freedom. Origins among Hindoos and Chinese\n\n    (_\u03b2_) True beginning among the Hellenes. The universal and\n    substantive content of the end, which individuals seek to\n    achieve. Exceptional plot and intrigue and varied display of\n    individual character not emphasized\n\n    (_\u03b3_) In modern drama it is rather the destiny of some\n    particular character under exceptional circumstances which\n    forms the subject-matter. Interest directed not so much\n    to ethical vindication and destiny as to the isolation of\n    the individual and his conditions. Crime as a motive not\n    excluded. Formal greatness of character demanded. Variety\n    of characterization, and maze of plot and intrigue. In\n    tragedy further the paramount presence of a more exalted\n    order of the world,--whether conceived as Providence or\n    Fatality,--accepted]\n\n    (_c_) The concrete development of dramatic poetry and its\n    types\n\n    [(_\u03b1_) Greek drama. Roman drama an attenuated reflection.\n    Survey limited to \u00c6schylus, Sophocles, and Aristophanes.\n    Background of ancient tragedy the heroic condition. Analysis\n    of modes under which ethical content of human action\n    asserted. The unsevered consciousness of the godlike and the\n    combating human action, presented under the form of chorus\n    and heroic figures. Significance of chorus. Opposition\n    between social obligation and private sense of duty.\n    Antigone. Modern conception of guilt and innocence no place\n    in Greek tragedy in strict sense. Final end reconciliation\n    of forces of human action. Such a _d\u00e9nouement_ not merely\n    an ethical issue. Contrast between such and the Justice of\n    the Greek Epos. Illustrations. Antigone. \u0152dipus. Orestes.\n    Conception of old classical Comedy. The laughter of the\n    Olympian gods made present in man. Aristophanes]\n\n    (_\u03b2_) Modern dramatic art\n\n    [(i) The ends which ought to come into the process of the\n    action as the content of the characters. Borrowed from the\n    concrete world of religious and social life. Not however,\n    the particular ethical forces as of individuals which assert\n    them, _e.g._, Christ, the saints, kings, vassals, and\n    members of ruling families. Features of the private life\n    accepted not within scope of ancient drama. Personal love,\n    honour, etc. make an exclusive appeal. Faust. Wallenstein.\n    Generally it is the inner experience of soul-life which\n    demands satisfaction. Comparison of problem of Hamlet with\n    that of the Choephorae.\n\n    (ii) Nature of characters and collisions. Conflict\n    abides essentially in the character itself. Abstract\n    characterization of French and Italian poetry, also Spanish.\n    In contrast to this that of the English, and above all\n    Shakespeare. Goethe and Schiller. Vacillation of character.\n    \"King Lear.\"\n\n    (iii) Nature of tragic issue. Justice of more abstract\n    nature than in ancient tragedy. The issue as the effect\n    of misfortune. \"Romeo and Juliet,\" a kind of unhappy\n    blessedness in misfortune. Social plays the link between\n    tragedy and comedy. As a rule the triumph of ordinary\n    morality celebrated. Modern comedy. Question whether folly\n    is ridiculous only to others, or to the comic character\n    also. The second type mainly that of Aristophanes, the first\n    that of Moli\u00e8re. Invention of the intrigue or intricate\n    plot. Comparison of Shakespeare's comedy with that of\n    Aristophanes]\n\n    Final Summary and Conclusion\n\n\n\n\n\nTHIRD PART\n\nTHE SYSTEM OF THE PARTICULAR ARTS\n\nSUBSECTION III\n\nTHE ROMANTIC ARTS\n\n(CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nPHILOSOPHY OF FINE ART\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nPOETRY\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nI\n\nThe temple of classical architecture demands a god, who resides\ntherein. Sculpture exhibits the same in plastic beauty, and confers\nforms on the material it employs for this purpose, which do not in\ntheir nature remain external to what is spiritual, but are the form\nitself immanent in the defined content. The corporeality, however, and\nsensuousness, no less than the ideal universality of the sculptured\nfigure, are opposed on the one hand to subjective ideality, and in part\nto the particularity of the individual, in whose element the content\nof the religious, no less than also the worldly life, must secure\nreality by virtue of a novel form of art. This mode of expression,\nwhich is of subjective import, and at the same time particularized in\nits characterization, the art of painting itself contributes under\nthe principle of the plastic arts. In other words it subordinates the\nrealistic expression of form to the more ideal presentment of colour,\nand makes the expression of the ideality of soul the central point[1]\nof the presentment. The universal sphere, however, in which these\narts are motived, the one in the ideal of symbolism, the other in the\nplastic ideal, the third in the romantic type, is the sensuous or\n_external_ form of spirit and natural objects.\n\nThe spiritual content possesses, however, as essentially appertinent\nto the ideality of consciousness, a determinate existence which is for\nthis ideality at the same time foreign to the medium itself of the\nexternal appearance and envisagement presented to it by material form.\nFrom this foreign element it is further necessary that it removes its\nconceptions in order to place them in a realm which, in respect to\nmaterial no less than the mode of expression, is independently of an\nideal or subjective character. This was the forward step which we saw\n_music_ make, in so far as it embodied pure ideality and subjective\nemotion in the configurations of essentially resonant sound rather than\nin visible forms. It, however, passed by this very means into a further\nextreme, that is, an ideal mode of concentration not fully explicit,\nwhose content in musical tones itself only found symbolic expression.\nFor tone taken by itself is without content, and has its definition in\nthe numerical relations, so that what is qualitative in the spiritual\ncontent no doubt generally corresponds to these quantitative relations\nwhich are expressed in essential differences, oppositions, and\nmediation, but in its qualitative determinacy is not entirely able to\nreceive its impression in musical tone. If this aspect is not wholly to\nfail the art of music must, by reason of its onesidedness, summon to\nits assistance the more definite articulation of language, and requires\nfor its more secure attachment to particularity and the characteristic\nexpression of the content a text, without which it is unable to\ncomplete fully the ideality which is poured forth by means of musical\ntones.\n\nBy virtue of this expression of ideas and emotions, the abstract\nideality of music receives a clearer and more secure exposition. At\nthe same time what we have here unfolded by its means is, to a certain\nextent, not the point of view of idea and the artistic mode adapted\nto its expression, but merely the emotional life as it accompanies\nthe same; also in part we find that here, too, music entirely divests\nitself of fusion with the verbal text in order to develop its own\nmovement without restraint in the world of tone simply. For this reason\nthe realm of idea, which is unable to remain under I such a more purely\nabstract mode of ideal intensity, and seeks a configuration in a world\nwhich embraces its one homogeneous and concrete reality, breaks away on\nits part likewise from the bond of music, and in the exclusive art of\npoetry discovers the adequate realization it demands.\n\n_Poetry,_ in other words the art of human speech, is the _third_\nor final step, the _totality_, which unites and embraces in a yet\nhigher sphere, in the sphere of the very life of Spirit itself[2],\nthe two extremes of the plastic arts and music. For on the one hand\npoetry contains just as music does the principle which apprehends an\nideal content in its ideality, the principle which in architecture,\nsculpture, and painting is lost, or at most incompletely asserted.\nAnd on the other hand it expatiates itself, under the modes of ideal\nconception, intuition, and feeling simply, in an objective world,\nwhich does not entirely destroy the defined forms of sculpture and\npainting, and is capable of unfolding all the conditions of an event, a\nsuccession or interchange of emotional states, passions, conceptions,\nand the exclusive course of human action with more completeness than\nany other art.\n\n2. But in a still more intimate way the art of poetry constitutes a\nthird or final term in its relation to painting and music regarded as\nthe _romantic_ arts.\n\n(_a_) One reason of this is that its principle is that generally of\nan _intelligence_ which has nothing further to do with gross matter\nas such, seeking, as is the case with architecture, to transform it\nthrough symbolism to an environment related analogically to spiritual\nlife, or as in the case of sculpture in order to implant upon material\nsubstance the natural form congenial to such life under the spatial\ncondition of its expression. What the end is now is to express\nimmediately for mind the manifestations of Spirit with all its ideas\nof imagination and art, without setting forth their external and\nvisible bodily presence. And a further reason consists in this, that\npoetry is able to grasp in the form of ideality itself and with a far\ngreater wealth than is possible for music or painting, not merely the\ninnermost actuality of conscious life, but also what is particular and\nindividual in external existence, and equally able to contrast such\nfacts in the complete diversity of their specific traits and accidental\npeculiarities.\n\n(_b_) The art of poetry is, however, as totality, also again, from\nanother point of view, essentially to be distinguished from the\nabove-mentioned arts whose fundamental qualities it thus in a measure\ncombines.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In this respect, if we compare it with painting, the latter art\nis throughout at an advantage, where it is of importance to bring\nbefore our senses a content under the condition of its external\nappearance. It is true no doubt that poetry is able by various means\nto envisualize objects precisely in the way that for the imagination\ngenerally the principle of objectification is made real to our\nintuitive sense. But in so far as conceptive power, in the element\nof which poetry pre-eminently moves, is of a spiritual nature and\nimplies the presence of the universality of thought, it is incapable\nof attaining the definition of sensuous perception. On the other hand,\nthe varied traits which poetry brings together, in order to make the\nconcrete form of a content visible, do not fall as with painting\ninto one and the same totality, which is set before us wholly as a\nsimultaneous appearance of all its details, but they break apart,\ninasmuch as the imagination can only give us the complexity it contains\nunder the form of succession. This is, however, only a defect from the\nsensuous point of view, a defect which reason is able in its own way\nto rectify. That is to say, inasmuch as human speech, even in the case\nwhere it endeavours to summon before our sight a concrete object, is\nnot concerned with the sensuous apprehension of an immediate external\nobject, but always with the ideal relation, the mental intuition, for\nthis reason the particular characteristics, albeit they are set before\nus in a series, are nevertheless fused together in the element of one\nessentially homogeneous spirit, which is able to qualify the effect of\nsuccession, to bring the varied array into one picture, and to secure\nand enjoy this picture in imaginative contemplation. Moreover, this\ndeficiency of sensuous realization and objective definition, when\nwe contrast poetry with painting, brings as a contrary result the\npossibility of an incalculable superfluity of material. For inasmuch\nas the poetic art in painting restricts itself to a determinate\nspace, and even more to a distinct moment in a situation or action,\nfor this reason it is prevented from portraying an object in its\nentire ideal profundity no less than in the extension of its temporal\ndevelopment. But what is true is throughout concrete in the sense that\nit comprises within its embrace a unity of essential determinations.\nIn its phenomenal appearance, however, these are not merely unfolded\nas a co-existent spatial phenomenon but in a temporal series as a\nhistory, whose course painting is only able to present in a relatively\ninadequate manner. Even in the case of every stalk, every tree, each\nhas in this sense its history, a change, sequence, and exclusive whole\nof varied conditions. And this is even more true of the sphere of\nspirit, which can only be exhaustively portrayed as veritable spirit\nin phenomenal guise when it is set before our imagination as such a\nprocess.\n\n(_\u03b2_) We have already seen that poetry possesses for its external\nmedium that of tone in common with _music_. The wholly external, or,\nas we might say in the false sense of the expression, the objective\nmaterial in the progressive series of the particular arts finally\nvanishes in the subjective medium of sound, which is divested of all\nvisibility, and which suffers an ideal content only to be apprehended\nby a conscious state independent of sight.[3] For music, however, the\nconfiguration of musical _tone_ as such is the essential end. For\nalthough the soul in the course and movement of melody and its harmonic\nrelations presents what is ideal in objects, or its own ideal content,\nto the emotional life; yet the ideality thus presented is not pure\nideality, but the human soul interwoven in the closest way with the\nmusical tone as its expression, and the configuration of such musical\nexpression which confers on music its true character. So much is this\nthe case that music receives its independent position as an art just in\nproportion as the animation given by it to the emotional life is more\nemphasized in the world of pure music than in that of man's ordinary\nspiritual activity.[4] But for this very reason it is only to a\nrelative degree capable of reproducing the variety of spiritual ideas\nand intuitions, the entire extension of the ideal wealth of conscious\nlife: it remains restricted to the more abstract universality of all\nthat it grasps as content, and the more indefinite manifestations of\nour emotion.\n\nIn the like degree, then, that mind (_Geist_) elaborates the more\nabstract universality in a concrete whole of idea, ends, actions, and\nevents, and no less contributes to its conformation the particularizing\nperception, it not only forsakes the subjective life of mere emotion\nand builds up that life into an unfolded realm of objective reality\nin this case, too, within the ideal world of the imagination itself,\nit is compelled, by virtue of the nature of such transformation, to\nforsake the attempt to express the new realm thus secured solely\nand exclusively by means of tone relations. Precisely as the medium\nof sculpture is too poor to express the more ample content that it\nis the function of the art of painting to call into life, so too\nthe conditions of musical tone and melodic expression are unable to\nrealize fully the imaginative pictures of the poet. For these in part\npossess the ideas more accurately defined to consciousness and, in\npart, the form of external appearance impressed on the inner sense\nof perceptive reason. Spirit consequently withdraws its content from\nmusical tone as such, and declares itself through words, which it is\ntrue do not entirely forsake the element of sound, but sink to the\npurely external sign of the communication. In other words, by means of\nthis repletion with spiritual ideas, musical tone becomes the voice of\narticulate words; language, in its turn, is diverted from an end in\nitself to a means of ideal expression which has lost its independent\nself-subsistancy. This constitutes in fact what we have already\nestablished as the essential difference between music and poetry. The\ncontent of the art of speech is the collective art of the world of\nideas elaborated by the imagination, the spiritual which remains at\nhome in its vision, which remains in this ideal realm, and, even in\nits movement toward an objective world, is only conscious of the same\nas a symbol that differs from its own conscious content. In music\nart reproduces the penetration of Spirit in a sensuously apparent\nand present form. In poetry it even forsakes the element of _musical\ntone_ and articulation opposed to it, at least to the extent that this\nmusical tone is no longer reclothed in fully adequate externality\nand the exclusive expression of that content. The ideal no doubt is\nexpressed, but it fails to discover its real existence in the sensuous\nmedium of tone, despite the fact that it is of a more ideal character;\nthis it discovers exclusively in its own essential content, by virtue\nof which it expresses the content of mind as it is realized in the\nideality of the imagination simply as such.\n\n(_c_) In the _third_ place, and finally, if we consider the specific\ncharacter of poetry relatively to this distinction between music and\npainting, and we may include with it the other plastic arts, we shall\nfind the same simply to consist in the subordination of the mode under\nwhich all poetical content is envisaged and configured by the medium of\nsense. In other words, when tone, as it does in the art of music, or\nfor that matter, colour as in that of painting, no longer essentially\nrecovers and expresses the entire content, in that case the musical\ntreatment of the composition under its aspects of time, no less than\nthose of harmony and melody, drops away; we have left us merely the\ngeneralized configuration of the time-measure of syllables and words,\nto which we may add rhythm, euphony, and the like. And further, it is\nto be noted that we have this, not in the sense of a genuine medium for\nthe content, but rather as a mode of externality which is accidental,\nand which only receives an artistic form, because art cannot permit any\nmode of its external manifestation whatever to be entirely a question\nof accidental caprice.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In connection with this withdrawal of the spiritual content from\nthe sensuous medium we are at once met with the question what it is\nthen which, under such a view, constitutes the actual externality or\nobjectivity in poetry, that of tone being thus excluded. The answer\nto this is simple. It is the _ideal envisagement_ and _imaginative\ncontent_ itself. We have here spiritual forms substituted for sensuous,\nand supply a configurative material, such as we met with before in\nmarble, bronze, colour, or musical tones. In other words, we must guard\nourselves from such an inadequate statement of the facts as that ideas\nand imagery are nothing more or less than the _content_ of poetry.\nThis is unquestionably true in a sense, as we shall demonstrate more\nclosely later on. Despite this, however, we are equally justified\nin asserting that idea, imagery, emotion, and the like are specific\nmodes, under which every content in poetry is subsumed and manifested;\nand consequently, that is, owing to the fact that the sensuous\naspect of the communication remains throughout a purely accidental\none[5]--it is these forms which supply the real material which the\npoet has to elaborate artistically. No doubt the fact, the content,\nmust in poetry, as in other arts, receive its due objectification\nfor spirit; objectivity in this sense, however, is the exchange of\nwhat was previously an external reality for one that is ideal; one\nwhich receives an existence exclusively in conscious life itself, as\nsomething conceived or imagined exclusively by mind. Mind is here on\nits own ground objective to itself, and it suffers the medium of speech\nmerely as a means, that is to say, partly as one of communication, and\npartly as one of immediate externality, from which, as from the pure\nsymbol merely, it is withdrawn throughout from itself into itself. For\nthis reason, in the case of genuine poetry, it is of no consequence\nwhether a poetical work be read in private or listened to; and for the\nsame reason it can also, without essential depreciation of its value,\nbe translated into other tongues, be transferred from versification\ninto prose, and thereby transmitted in tonal relations of an entirely\ndifferent character.[6]\n\n(_\u03b2_) In the _second_ place the question presents itself as to the\n_nature_ of the object _for_ which the ideal concept is employed in\npoetry. We answer that it is thus used relatively to essential truth\nin everything of interest to Spirit; not merely, that is, relatively\nto what is substantive in the same in the universality of its\nsymbolic significance or classical differentiation, but equally to\nall that is at the same time specific and particular, in short, to\npractically everything in and with which mind is in any way interested\nand concerned. The art of language, consequently, both in respect to\nits content and the mode under which that content is made explicit,\npossesses a field of immeasurable compass, wholly incomparable with\nthat of the other arts. Every content, every sort of spiritual or\nnatural fact, event, history, deed, action, all conditions, whether\nideal or external, fall within the domain and configurative powers of\npoetry.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Material of this most varied character is not, however, made\npoetical merely by reason of the fact that it is in a general way the\ncontent of idea. Ordinary consciousness is able to elaborate precisely\nthe same content in the field of ideas, and to particularize concepts\nwithout creating any poetical result. We recognized this fact when we\ncalled the concept of mind merely the _material_ or medium, which only\nreceives a form adapted for poetry, in so far as it partakes of a novel\nconfiguration by virtue of art. In precisely the same way mere colour\nand tone in their immediacy are not as such the colour or tone of a\npainter or a musician. We may in a general way describe the distinction\nby stating that it is not the _idea as such_, but the _imagination_ of\nthe _artist_ which creates a poetical content, under conditions, that\nis, in which the imagination grasps the same content in such a way that\nit is itself therewith associated in language, words and their more\nbeautiful conjunction as human speech, just as in the other arts we\nfind it present in the architectonic form; the plastic of sculpture,\nthat adapted to painting, or musical tones and harmony.\n\nA further necessary limitation of the art's appearance is this that\nthe content must, on the one hand, not be embraced in relations\napplicable to mere _thinking_, whether that of science or speculative\nphilosophy, nor further in the form of inarticulate _emotion_, or with\na clarity and self-sufficiency which appeals _exclusively_ to the\norgans of sense;[6] neither, in another direction, must it suffer the\nidea to pass entirely into what we may in general terms describe as\nthe contingency, divisions, and relativity of _finite_ reality. The\nimagination of the poet in this respect must maintain a middle course\nbetween the abstract universality of pure thinking and the concrete\ncorporeality of material objects, in so far as we are acquainted with\nthe latter in the productions of the plastic arts. Furthermore such an\nart must generally conform to the requirements we have, in an early\nsection of this work, insisted as essential to every art-product. In\nother words, the art itself must find in its content the adequate\nobject of its appearance, must elaborate everything, which it embraces,\nso far as the interest appeals to the intelligence simply,[7] as an\nessentially independent and self-exclusive world. Only in so far as\nit does this is the demand of art satisfied, and the content thereof\nbecomes, by virtue of the specific mode of _its_ manifestation, an\norganic whole, which in its parts presents the appearance of a limited\nassociation and ideal synthesis, while at the same time, as contrasted\nwith the world of accidental subordinations, its consistency is one of\nessential freedom, a whole made explicit through itself.\n\n3. The last point to which we must in conclusion draw attention in\nrespect to this distinction between poetry and the other arts is\nconnected with the different mode under which the imagination of the\npoet substantiates its ideas in the objective medium of its exposition.\nThe arts hitherto considered were entirely serious in their attachment\nto the material of sense, a medium in which they themselves were\noperative, in so far as they merely bestowed on their content a\nform, which could be throughout accepted and elaborated by means of\nconglomerations of material substance, whether bronze, marble, or wood,\nor the media of colour and tones.[8] In a certain sense, no doubt,\npoetry also has to meet a condition somewhat similar. That is to say,\nin poetical composition we must not overlook the fact that its results\nhave to be intelligible to mind by means of the communication of human\nspeech. But we shall find none the less that the situation in the two\ncases is essentially altered.\n\n(_a_) Otherwise expressed, by reason of the importance pertaining to\nthe material aspect in the plastic arts and music, we find that, as a\nresult of the _defined_ restrictions of this material, only a _limited_\nnumber of conceptions can be fully reproduced in a particularized form\nof reality such as stone, colour, and tone: the content therefore and\nthe possibilities of artistic composition are narrowed within very\ndefinable limits. It was on account of this fact that we were able to\nassociate closely and exclusively every one of these specific arts\nwith one particular form of artistic creation pre-eminently adapted to\nit. In this way the form of symbolism was appropriate to architecture,\nthe classical to sculpture, and the romantic to painting and music. It\nis no doubt true that the particular arts in both directions from and\ntoward their proper domain tended to pass over into the other forms.\nWe took account of this fact when we found it possible to refer to a\nclassic and romantic style of architecture, a symbolical and Christian\ntype of sculpture, and even used the term classic in connection with\npainting and music. Departures such as these from the prevailing type\nwere, however, merely experimental essays which prepared the way in\nsubordination to a new type rather than its culminating effort; or they\nshowed us how one art tended to pass beyond its true limits in seeking\nto grasp a content or a relation to its material of a type that only a\nfurther art development could adequately elaborate. Generally speaking,\nwe have seen that architecture has least resource in the expression of\nits content; in sculpture there is already an increase of possibility,\nwhich is further extended to its widest range[9] by painting and music.\nAnd the reason of this is that in proportion as the ideality and\nparticularization under all its aspects by the external medium is made\nmore explicit the variety of the content and of the forms it receives\nalso increases.\n\nPoetry, on the other hand, casts itself free of all subordination to\nthe material of sense, at least to this extent, that in the definition\nof external or objective expression no reason whatever remains why it\nshould restrict itself to specific content or any limitation to its\npower of composition and reproduction. It is therefore exclusively\nunited to no specific art type; rather we may define it as the\n_universal_ art, which is capable of reclothing and expressing under\nevery conceivable mode every content that can possibly enter into or\nproceed from the imagination of man. And it can do this because its\nmaterial is nothing more or less than the imagination itself, which\nis the universal root and ground of all the particular arts and their\nspecific types.\n\nWe have already, in another connection, when concluding our discussion\nof the particular artistic types, come across what was practically the\nsame thing. What we sought for, then, in our conclusion was that art\nin one of its types should make itself independent of that mode of\nrepresentation properly called specific, remaining thereby predominant\nabove the entire sphere in which such a totality of particularization\nis reproduced. An elaboration so comprehensive is among all the\nparticular arts by the very nature of the case only possible to poetry.\nIts realization is effected through the development of poetical\ncreation in part by means of the actual reconstitution of every\nparticular type, and partly by the liberation of the mode of conception\nand its content from the boundaries fixed for it in the essentially\nexclusive types of conception, whose character we have severally\ndefined as symbolical, classical, and romantic.\n\n(_b_) The above considerations will further serve to justify the\nposition, which, in the course of our inquiry, regarded as the\ndevelopment of a philosophy, we previously assigned to the art of\npoetry. In other words by reason of the fact that poetry is, to a\ndegree quite impossible to any other mode of artistic production,\nconcerned with the universal simply as such in Art, we might appear\nto have some reason for insisting that it marks the commencement\nof an investigation in the full sense of the word philosophical,\nand only from such a starting point can we enter into the sphere of\nparticularization, in which we find the series of the other arts as\nlimited and determined by their specific sensuous medium. Looking\nback, however, at the result arrived at in our investigation of the\nparticular art types we shall find that the course of philosophical\nevolution consisted, first, in an increased penetration of the ideal\ncontent, and, from another point of view, in the demonstration that\noriginally Art sets forth in the search, then in the discovery of and\nfinally with an advance beyond that content compatible with its powers.\nThis notion of the beautiful and _Art_ must enforce itself in _the\narts_ themselves. The starting-point of our inquiry, therefore, was\narchitecture, in which we found merely an impulse toward the complete\nrepresentation of what pertains to Spirit in a material medium. This\nis so much the case that it is only through sculpture that art first\nattains to a genuine interfusion of ideality with the medium; and\nfurther that only in the arts of painting and music do we reach the\nstage where, by virtue of the ideal and subjective character of their\ncontent, we find the perfected fusion effected no less under the aspect\nof conception than that of practical execution in the medium accepted.\nThis process culminates most decisively in poetry, by virtue of the\nfact that the very nature of its objective realization can only be\napprehended as an effort to draw apart from and cancel the material of\nsense rather than one of reproduction which does not as yet venture to\nclothe itself and move in the objective medium of sense-perception. In\norder, however, to make this liberation intelligible in philosophical\nterms it is of importance that we have already disposed of the question\nwhat it is from which art undertakes to liberate itself. This question\nstands in close relation to the fact that poetry is essentially capable\nof embracing the entirety of intelligible content and artistic modes\nof expression. We may add further that we have viewed this as the\nacceptance of a totality, which can only be interpreted philosophically\nas the abrogation of limitation in particularity. Our previous\nconsideration of what we mean by things that are one-sided would be\ninvolved in such an exposition, the self-exclusive character of such\none-sidedness being cancelled by such a totality.\n\nIt is only through the course of such an exposition that we can\neffectively demonstrate that poetry is the specific art in which a\npoint is reached which marks the beginning of the disintegration of art\nitself, a point at which the philosophical consciousness discovers its\nbridge of passage to the notion of religion as such, as also to the\nprose of scientific thought. The boundary lines of the realm of beauty\nare, as we have already seen, on the one hand the prose of finite\ncondition and our ordinary conscious life, starting from which Art\nmakes its effort in the direction of truth, and, on the other, of the\nloftier spheres of religion and science, from which it passes over into\na comprehension of the Absolute till more emancipate from all material\nassociation.\n\n(_c_) Despite therefore the completeness with which the art of poetry\nreproduces, under a mode of objectification that is most ideal, the\nentire totality of Beauty, nevertheless intelligence is able to\ndiscover even here too in this final domain of art a residue of defect.\nWe may for this purpose within our art-system directly contrast the\npoetic art with that of architecture. In other words architecture was\nstill unable to subordinate the external material to the ideal content\nsufficiently to clothe the same in a form adequate to mind; poetry on\nthe other hand carries the process of negating its sensuous medium\nso far that instead of transforming that which stands in opposition\nto gross spatial matter, namely tone, as architecture does with its\nmaterial into a significant symbol, it rather reduces it to a mere\nsign of no significance. But by doing so it destroys the fusion of\nspiritual ideality with external existence, so thoroughly that to this\nextent it ceases to be compatible with the original notion of Art. In\nother words it comes dangerously near to bidding goodbye to the region\nof sense altogether, remaining wholly absorbed in that of ideality.\nThe fair mean between these extremes of architecture and poetry is\nsecured by sculpture, painting, and music. Every one of these arts not\nmerely still reproduces the spiritual content completely in a medium\nborrowed from the objective world, but also leaves us with that which\nlies open to our senses, no less than our intelligence. For although\npainting and music, regarded as romantic arts, attach themselves to a\nmedium already more ideal, they do none the less supply the immediacy\nof objective existence, which, however, in this increase of ideality,\nshows indications of disappearance, while again from the opposite point\nof view they prove themselves, through their media of colour and tone,\nmore profuse in fulness of particularization and manifold configuration\nthan is required from the material of sculpture.\n\nNo doubt the art of poetry in its turn also endeavours, as a set-off to\nthis defect, to place the objective world before us with a breadth and\nvariety which even painting, at least in a single composition, fails\nto secure: none the less this comprehensiveness remains throughout\nmerely a realization confined to consciousness itself; and, if it so\nhappens that poetry, in response to a demand for more material artistic\nrealization, attempts to increase the impression on our senses, it is\nonly able to do this by either borrowing these effects from music and\npainting, in order to secure artistic means otherwise foreign to it;\nor it is forced, if it seeks retain its genuine character, to employ\nthese sister arts only under a subordinate relation of service, while\nthe main stress is laid on the ideas of conscious life, the imagination\nwhich appeals to the imagination, with which it is above all concerned.\n\nThis will suffice for discussion of the general relation under which\npoetry is placed to the other arts. We shall now proceed to a closer\nexamination of the art of poetry itself, and with a view to this\npropose to co-ordinate the same as follows.\n\nWe have already seen that in poetry it is the ideal concept itself from\nwhich we derive content no less than medium. By reason, however, of\nthe fact that we already find outside Art's domain the world of idea\nto be the most obvious mode of conscious life, it is above everything\nelse important to distinguish the conception of _poetry_ from that of\n_prose._ The art of poetry, however, is not complete in this ideal\nworld of the imagination alone. It is necessary that it should clothe\nthe same in expressive _language._ It has therefore a twofold task\nconfronting it. On the one hand it is called upon so to arrange this\nworld of constructed idea that it may admit of complete translation\ninto speech: on the other it must take care not to leave this medium of\nlanguage in the form appropriated by ordinary conscious life. In other\nwords such must be treated poetically in order that the expression of\nart may be distinguishable in the selection of words no less than their\nposition, and even their sound from that of ordinary prose.\n\nFurthermore, on account of the fact that, though poetry avails itself\nof language as a means of expression, it secures by far the most\nunqualified freedom from those conditions and restrictions imposed on\nthe other arts by virtue of the particularization of their material,\nit is possible for a poetical composition in a pre-eminent degree to\nelaborate every one of the various modes of expression, otherwise\nadopted unaffected by the onesidedness incidental to their application\nto a particular art. The subdivision of such _modes of expression_ in\nall their variety is consequently by far the most complete in the works\nof poetry.\n\nThe further course of our investigation may now be epitomized as\nfollows:\n\n_First,_ we have to elucidate what is in general terms _poetical,_ and\nthe _poetical composition_ in particular.\n\n_Secondly,_ poetry will be examined as a means of _expression._\n\n_Thirdly_, we shall deal with the subdivision of the art into _Epic,\nLyric,_ and _Dramatic_ poetry.\n\n\n[Footnote 1: _Mittelpunkt._ We should rather say the unifying\nsignificance of the creation.]\n\n[Footnote 2: It would be perhaps better to translate _geistigen\nInnerlichkeit_ with the words \"the self-conscious life of the human\nreason.\" This is developed and explained, however, in the next\nparagraph.]\n\n[Footnote 3: Hegel expresses this as \"making the inner or ideal\ncontent perceptible to the ideal faculty,\" that is, _prima facie_,\nconsciousness, or at least that sense which is nearest related to it,\nviz., hearing.]\n\n[Footnote 4: By _statt des Geistigen_ Hegel clearly contrasts pure\nmusic with music related as accompaniment to human speech in song.]\n\n[Footnote 5: Lit., \"one that merely plays by the way.\"]\n\n[Footnote 6: Such a statement is obviously one which would be\nstrongly resisted. The stress laid here on the purely ideal content\nas contrasted with the beauty of rhythm and modal arrangement would\ncertainly suggest that Hegel was deficient in a sense for the musical\npossibilities of language I presume he does use _gebunden_ in the sense\nof verse.]\n\n[Footnote 7: Hegel's expression is _in rein theoretischen Interesse._]\n\n[Footnote 8: The medium of music is not of course strictly on all fours\nwith the others.]\n\n[Footnote 9: That is under the limits of these four arts.]\n\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nPOETICAL COMPOSITION AS DISTINGUISHED FROM THAT OF PROSE\n\n\nWe find it difficult to recall a single writer among all who have\nwritten on the subject of poetry who has not evaded the attempt to\ndescribe what is poetical as such, let alone a clear definition. And in\nfact if any one begins a discussion upon poetry, regarded as an art,\nwithout previously having investigated the nature of the content and\nmode of conception appropriate to Art in its most general terms, he\nwill find it an extremely difficult matter to determine where we must\nlook for that in which the essential character of poetry consists. To\nan exceptional degree is this failure to tackle this problem visible in\nthose cases where a writer takes as his point of departure the actual\nexecution in particular works of art, and seeks to establish, by means\nof this connoisseurship, some general principle which he may apply as\nrelevant to every sort and kind of composition. In this way works of\nthe most heterogeneous character come to rank as genuine poetry. If we\nonce start from such assumptions, and then proceed to the inquiry by\nvirtue of what productions of this nature can be reasonably classed\ntogether as poems we are at once confronted with the difficulty I have\nabove adverted to. Happily our own position here is not that of these\ninquirers. In the first place we have by no manner of means arrived\nat the general notion of our subject-matter through an examination\nof any particular examples of its display; we have on the contrary\nsought to evolve the actual constitution of the same by a reference to\nthe fundamental notion.[1] Agreeably with this it is not part of our\ndemand that everything in ordinary parlance regarded as poetry should\nin our present inquiry fall into the general notion we have accepted.\nAt least this is certainly not so in so far as the decision whether any\nparticular work is or is not poetical is only deducible from the notion\nitself. Furthermore it is unnecessary now to expound more fully what we\nunderstand by the notion of poetry. To do this we should simply have to\nrepeat again the course of our inquiry into the nature of Beauty and\nthe Ideal as developed in general terms in the first part of this work.\nThe intrinsic character of what is poetical stands in general agreement\nwith the generic notion of artistic beauty and the art-product. That\nis to say, the imagination of the poet is not, as is the case with\nthe plastic arts and music by reason of the nature of the _materia_,\nthrough which they are reproductive, constrained in its creative\nactivity in many directions, and forced to accept many others of a\nonesided or very partial completeness; it is on the contrary merely\nsubservient to the essential requirements and general principle of an\nideal and artistic presentation.\n\nFrom the many different points of view applicable to our present\npurpose, I will attempt to emphasize merely those of most importance,\nas for example, _firsts_ that which relates to the distinction between\nthe _mode of composition_ employed respectively by poetry and prose;\n_secondly_, that which contrasts a _poetical work_ as completed with\none of prose; and, _finally_, I propose to add a few observations\nrelative to the subjective faculty which creates, or, shall we say,\nthe _poet_ himself.\n\nI. THE COMPOSITION OF POETRY AND PROSE\n\n(_a_) In so far as the _content_ appropriate to poetical composition\nis concerned we may, relatively speaking at any rate, exclude the\nexternal world of natural fact. It is spiritual interests rather than\nthe sun, mountains, landscape, or the bodily human form, and the\nlike, which are its proper subject-matter. For, although it naturally\nembraces the element of sensuous impression and perception, it remains\nnone the less, even in this respect, an activity of mind. Its main\nobject is an intuition of ideality, to which it stands as spiritual\nactivity in closer relation and affinity than is possible for external\nobjects, as presented in their concrete substance to the senses. The\nworld of Nature therefore only enters into the content of poetry in so\nfar as mind discovers therein a stimulus or a material upon which to\nexercise its own energy; as, for example, where it is regarded as the\nenvironment of man, merely possessing essential worth in its relation\nto the ideality of conscious life, which moreover can put forward no\nclaim to be itself the independent object of poetry. The object, in\nshort, which fully corresponds to its appeal is the infinite realm of\nSpirit. For the medium of language, the most plastic medium possessed\nimmediately by conscious life, and the one most competent to grasp its\ninterests and movements in their ideal vitality, precisely as is the\ncase with the material of the other arts, such as stone, colour, and\ntone, must necessarily and above all be employed to express that which\nit is most qualified to express. It is consequently the pre-eminent\ntask of poetry to bring before our vision the energies of the life of\nSpirit, all that surges to and fro in human passion and emotion, or\npasses in tranquillity across the mind, that is the all-embracing realm\nof human idea, action, exploit, fatality, the affairs of this world and\nthe divine Providence. It has been the most universal and cosmopolitan\ninstructor of the human race and is so still. Instruction and learning\nare together the knowledge and experience of what is. Stars, animals\nand plants are ignorant of their law--it does not come into their\nexperience; but man only then exists conformably to the principle of\nhis being when he knows what he is and by what he is surrounded. He\nmust recognize the powers by which he is driven or influenced; and it\nis just such a knowledge which poetry, in its original and vital[2]\nform, supplies.\n\n(_b_) It is, however, also a content of the same character which\nbelongs to man's _ordinary_ conscious life. This too instructs him in\ngeneral laws, as such at least are interpreted by the motley crowd of\nhuman life, in their distinction, coordination, and significance. The\nquestion therefore arises, as previously observed, as to the nature of\nthe distinction between the mode of conception severally adopted by\nprose and poetry, a similarity in the content of each being assumed as\npossible.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Poetry is of greater antiquity than speech modelled in the\nartistic form of elaborate prose. It is the _original_ imaginative\ngrasp of truths a form of knowledge, which fails as yet to separate\nthe universal from its living existence in the particular object,\nwhich does not as yet contrast law land phenomena, object and means,\nor relate the one to the other in subordination to the process of\nhuman reason, but comprehends the one exclusively in the other and by\nvirtue of the other. For this reason it does not merely, under the mode\nof imagery, express a content already essentially apprehended in its\nuniversality; on the contrary it lingers, conformably to its unmediated\nnotion, in the unity of concrete life itself, which has not as yet\neffected such a separation or such an association of mere relationship.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Under the above forms of envisualization, poetry posits all that\nit comprehends as an exclusive and consequently independent totality,\nwhich, despite its capacity for a rich content and an extensive range\nof condition, individuals, actions, events, emotions and ideas of\nevery kind, nevertheless is forced to exhibit the same in all their\nwide complexity as an essentially self-determined whole, as displayed\nand motived by the unity, whose individual expression this or that\nfact in its singularity actually is. And consequently the universal\nor rational principle is not expressed in poetry in its abstract\nuniversality, or in the complexus which lies open to philosophical\nexposition or under the relation of its varied aspects apprehended\nby science, but on the contrary as a vital union, in its phenomenal\npresence, possessed with soul and self-determined throughout; and it is\nfurther expressed in such a way that the all-embracing unity, the real\nsoul of its vitality, is only suffered to be operative in mysterious\nguise from within outwards.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The character of this mode of apprehending, reclothing and\nexpressing fact is throughout one of construction. It is not the fact\nitself and its _contemplative_[3] existence, but reconstruction and\nspeech which are the object of poetry. Its entrance on the scene dates\nfrom the first efforts of man at self-expression. What is expressed\nis simply made use of to satisfy this desire. The instant man, in the\nmidst of his practical activities and imperative duties, seeks to\nsummarize this effect for mind and to communicate himself to others,\nthen we have some kind of artistic expression, some accord with what\nis poetical. To mention one from a host of examples, there is that\ndistich which we read in Herodotus referring to the slain heroes\nof Thermopylae. As for its content it is simply the fact, the bare\nannouncement that four thousand Peloponesians on a certain spot fought\nthe battle with three hundred myriads. The main interest is, however,\nthe composition of an inscription which communicates to contemporary\nlife and posterity the historical fact, and is there exclusively to\ndo so. In other words, the expression of this fact is poetical; it\ntestifies to itself as a deed (\u03b5\u1f31\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b5\u03af\u03bd) which leaves the content in\nits simplicity, but expresses the same with a definite purpose. The\nlanguage, in which the idea is embodied, is to that extent of such\nincreased value that an attempt is made to distinguish it from ordinary\nspeech; we have a distich in lieu of a sentence.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) For this reason, even from the point of view of language, poetry\nmakes an effort to keep its domain singular and distinct from ordinary\nparlance, and to accomplish this elevates its expression to a higher\nvirtue than that of merely articulate expression. We must, however, not\nonly in this particular respect, but for the purposes of our present\ninquiry generally, make an essential distinction between a primitive\npoetry, which arises _previous to_ the creation of ordinary artificial\nprose, and that mode of poetical composition and speech the development\nof which is effected where already the conditions of our everyday life\nand prosaic expression exist. The first is poetical without intention,\nin idea no less than speech; the latter, on the contrary, is fully\nconscious of the sphere, from which its task is to detach itself, in\norder that it may establish itself on the free basis of art. It is\nconsequently quite aware of the distinction and contrast implied in its\nself-creation to the world of prose.\n\n(_\u03b2_) _Secondly_, the kind of _prose life_, from which poetry has to\nseparate itself, postulates an entirely different nature of conception\nand speech.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In other words, looked at from one point of view, such a\nconsciousness regards the wide expanse of reality according to that\nassociation of cause and effect, object and means, and all other\ncategories of the mode of reflection which deals with _finite_\nconditions and the objective world generally, that is, the limited\ncategories of science or the understanding. It is a feature of such\nthought that every particular trait should at one moment appear with\na false subsistency, at another should be placed in the position\nof _bare_ relation to something else, that as such it should be so\napprehended in its relativity and dependence that no unity of a\nfree nature whatever is possible, no unity, that is, which remains\nessentially throughout, and in all its branches and separate filaments,\na complete and free totality, no unity, in short, where we find that\nthe individual aspects are simply the appropriate explication and\nphenomenal presence of _one_ content which constitutes the point of\nfocus, the soul that unites all together, and which also finds its\nvital principle in this all-pervading centre of animation. Rather the\ntype of conception we above refer to as that of science goes no further\nthan the discovery of particular laws in phenomena, and persists for\nthis reason in the separation, or bare relation, of the particular\nexistence with its general law, the laws themselves under this view\ntending to harden from each other in their isolate singularity; that\ntheir relation is, in fact, conceived exclusively under external and\nfinite conditions.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) And, furthermore, man's _ordinary_ consciousness has nothing\nto do with what we call the ideal principle of association, the\nessential core of facts, their bases, causes, ends, and so forth. It\nrests satisfied with the acceptance of the mere fact that something\nexists or happens as distinct from something else; or, in other words,\nwith its insignificant contingency. It is no doubt true that the\nunity of life is not, in such a case, deliberately cancelled by any\nexpress separation; that unity, I mean, in which the intuition of the\npoet arrests the ideal _rationale_ of the fact, its expression and\ndeterminate existence. What, however, is absent here, is just that\nflash of insight into this core of reason and significance, which\nbecomes consequently for our intelligence a thing essentially vacant,\npossessing no further claim on our minds to a rational interest. The\ncomprehension of a rational cosmos; and its relations is exchanged then\nand there for a mere flux and contiguity of indifference, which it\nis true may possess a large expanse of external animation, but which\nnone the less suffers the profounder impulse of reason[4] to remain\nunsatisfied. True vision, no less than soul-life in its full vigour,\ncan only obtain satisfaction, where such are made aware in phenomena,\nthrough feeling no less than contemplation, of the reality in its\nessence and truth which is compatible with such a world. The life which\nis a mere external show is defunct to our deeper sense, if all that is\nideal and intrinsically rich in significance fails to shine through as\nthe very soul thereof.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) These defects, thirdly, in the conceptions of science and our\nordinary conscious life _speculative thought_ effaces. It stands,\ntherefore, in one respect in affinity with the imagination of the poet.\nThe cognizance of reason[5] is not solely, or even mainly, concerned\nwith contingent singularity, nor does it overlook in the phenomenal\nworld the essence of the same. It does not rest satisfied with the\ndifferentiations and external relations proper to the conceptions and\ndeductions of the understanding; it unites them in a free totality,\nwhich in the apprehension of our finite faculty in part fails to\npreserve its self-consistency, and in part is posited in a relation\nthat possesses no synthetic unity. Pure thought, however, can have\nbut one result, namely thoughts. It evaporates the mode of reality\nin that of the pure notion. And although it grasps and comprehends\nactual things in their essential separation and their actual\nexistence, it does also nevertheless translate this particularity\ninto the ideal element of the universal, in which alone thought is\nat home with itself. Consequently there arises, in contrast to the\nworld of phenomena, a world that is new in this sense, that though\nthe truth of the Real is present, it is not displayed in _reality_\nitself as the power itself which gives it form and the veritable soul\nthereof. Thinking is simply a reconciliation of truth with reality in\n_Thought._ The creations and reconstruction, however, of the poet is a\nreconciliation under the mode of phenomenal reality itself, albeit such\na _real appearance_ is merely ideally conceived.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We have, therefore, two distinct spheres of consciousness,\nthat of poetry and prose. In former times, in which there is neither\npresent a deliberate outlook on the world elaborated, in respect to\nits religious belief and its general knowledge, under the co-ordinated\nform of scientific ideas and cognition, nor an actual world of\nhuman condition regulated conformably to such a standard, poetry is\nconfronted with a lighter task. Prose is not in such a case opposed to\nit as an essentially independent field of ideal and external existence,\nwhich it has first to overcome. Its problem is for the most part\nsimply limited to deepening all that is significant or transparent in\nthe forms of ordinary consciousness. If, on the contrary, the prose\nof life has already appropriated within its mode of vision the entire\ncontent of conscious life, setting its seal on all and every part\nof it, the art of poetry is forced to undertake the task of melting\nall down again and re-coining the same anew. In every direction it\nfinds itself involved in difficulties by the unresponsive nature of\nprosaic existence. It has, in short, not only to wrest itself from the\nadherence of ordinary consciousness to all that is indifferent and\ncontingent, and to raise the scientific apprehension of the cosmos of\nfact to the level of reason's profounder penetration, or to translate\nspeculative thought into terms of the imagination, giving a body to\nthe same in the sphere of intelligence itself; it has further to\nconvert in many ways the _mode of expression_ common to the ordinary\nconsciousness into that appropriate to poetry; and, despite of all\ndeliberate intention enforced by such a contrast and such a process, to\nmake it appear as though all such purpose was absent, preserving the\noriginal freedom essential to all art.\n\n(_c_) We have now summarized in its most general terms that in which\nthe content of poetry consists. We have further distinguished the\nform of poetry from that of prose. In conclusion, it is of importance\nto draw attention to the particularization which the art of poetry,\nto a degree unattained by the other arts, whose development is not\nnearly so rich in results, admits of. We find, no doubt, architecture\nillustrated in the arts of very varied peoples, and continuous through\nmany centuries. But of sculpture, at least, it is true that it reaches\nits culminating point in the ancient world of Greece and Rome, just as\npainting and music have done more recently in Christendom. The art of\npoetry celebrates its epochs of brilliancy and bloom among all nations\nand in all ages almost that present any real artistic activity at all.\nIt embraces the collective Spirit of mankind, and it is differentiated\nthrough every kind of variation.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Furthermore, inasmuch as poetry does not accept the universal in\nscientific abstraction from its object, but seeks to represent what\nis rational under the mode of individuality,[6] the specific traits\nof national character are essential to its growth; the content and\nthe particular mode of its presentation are in fact conditioned by\nthe nature of these and the general outlook in each case. We find it\nconsequently adapting itself to every variety of form and peculiarity.\nIt matters not what the poetry may be, whether Oriental, Italian,\nSpanish, English, Roman, Hellenic, or German, each and all differ\ntotally in their spirit, emotional impulse, general outlook and\nexpression.\n\nA similar distinctive variety asserts itself in particular epochs as\nthey are favourable to the art of poetry or the reverse. The results\nsecured, for example, by our German poetry were impossible in the\nMiddle Ages, or the times of the thirty years' war. The particular\nmotives, which in our own day excite the greatest interest, are\ninseparable from the entire evolution of contemporary life. And in the\nsame way every age has its own wider or more restricted, more exalted\nand liberal, or more depressed phase of emotional life, in short its\nspecific outlook on the world, which it is the express aim of poetry\nto bring home to the artistic consciousness in the most intelligible\nand complete manner, inasmuch as language is the one medium capable of\nexpressing the human spirit wherever and in whatever form it may be\nmanifested.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Among these national characteristics, or views and opinions\npeculiar to particular epochs, some have closer affinity with the\npoetic impulse than others. The Oriental consciousness is, for example,\nin general more poetic than the Western mind, if we exclude Greece.\nIn the East the principle predominant is always that of coherence,\nsolidity, unity, substance. An outlook of this nature is intrinsically\nmost penetrative, even though it may fail to reach the freedom of the\nIdeal. Our Western point of view, especially that of modern life, is\nbased on the endless breaking up and division of its boundless material\ninto fragments, in virtue of which process, the extreme emphasis laid\nhere on particular facts, what is merely finite becomes substantive for\nthe imagination, and despite of this must be once more subsumed under\nthe converse action of relativity. For the Oriental nothing persists as\nreally substantive, but everything appears as contingent, discovering\nits supreme focus, stability and final justification in the One, the\nAbsolute, to which it is referred.\n\n(_\u03b3_) By means of this diversity of national traits and the\nevolutionary process of the centuries we find that what is shared\nby all mankind alike, no less than all that claims to be artistic,\nis drawn as a common element within the reach of other nations and\nepochs, intelligible and enjoyable to the same. It is in this twofold\nconnection that of late years to an exceptional degree Hellenic poetry\nhas roused the admiration and imitation of most diverse nationalities.\nAnd this is so because in the content of it no less than in the\nartistic form it receives the simply human is disclosed with most\nbeauty. The literature of India itself, however, despite all the\ndifficulties attendant on an outlook and artistic expression so alien\nto our own, is not wholly outside our sympathy; and the boast is no\nempty one that in our modern era pre-eminently a keen sense for all\nthat art and the human spirit embraces in every direction has begun to\nunfold itself.\n\nWere we in our present investigation of this impulse toward\nindividualization, pursued so persistently by poetry, under the\naspects we have already described, to restrict the same to a _general_\ntreatment of the art of poetry, such a generalization, however\nestablished, could not fail to be abstract and devoid of content. It is\ntherefore of first importance, if our object be to consider poetry of\na really genuine type, that we include in our survey the forms of the\ncreative spirit as presented in their national form, the unique product\nof one age; and further we must not overlook the individuality which\ncreates, the soul of the poet. Such, then, are the main points of view\nto which I would draw attention by way of a general introduction to\npoetical creation and conception.\n\n2. THE ART-PRODUCT OF POETRY AND PROSE\n\nPoetry is not, however, exhausted by the imaginative idea alone: it\nmust necessarily proceed to make itself articulate and complete in the\n_poetical work of art._\n\nSuch an object of study opens a large field of investigation. We may\nconveniently arrange and classify the course of our discussion as\nfollows:\n\n_First,_ we shall endeavour to point out what is of most importance\nrelatively to the _poetical composition generally._\n\n_Secondly_, we shall distinguish it from the principal types of _prose\ncomposition_, in so far as the same are compatible with artistic\ntreatment.\n\nWe shall then, _finally_ be in a position to deduce with some\ncompleteness the notion of the _free art-product._\n\n(_a_) In respect to the poetical work of art under its generic aspect\nall that is necessary is once more to enforce our previous contention\nthat it must, no less than any other production of an unfettered\nimagination, receive the form and independence of an organic whole.\nThis demand can only receive satisfaction as follows:\n\n(_\u03b1_) In the _first_ place that which constitutes a homogeneous\ncontent, whether it be a definite object of action and event, or a\nspecific emotion and passion, must before everything else possess\nintrinsic unity.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) All else must be posited under relation to this bond of unity,\nand thereby combine to form a freehand concrete coherence of all parts.\nThis is only possible under the condition, that the content selected is\nnot conceived as abstract _universal_, but as the action and emotion of\nmen, as the object and passion which are actually present in the mind,\nsoul, and volition of definite individuals, arising as such from the\ndistinctive basis of an individual nature in each case.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The universal, which is to receive representation, and the\nindividuals, in whose character events and actions the manifestation\nof poetry is asserted must not consequently fall into fragments, or be\nso related that the individuals are merely of service as an abstract\nuniversal; both aspects must combine in vital coalescence. In the\nIliad, for example, the contest of Greeks and Trojans, and the victory\nof the former is inseparably bound up with the wrath of Achilles,\nwhich for this reason becomes the common focus welding all together.\nNo doubt we also find poetical works in which the fundamental content\nis partly more abstract in its generalization, and also partly is\nexecuted in a way that expresses a universal of more significance.\nDante's great epic poem is an illustration, which not only embraces the\nworld divine throughout, but displays individuals of the most varied\ncharacter in their relation to the punishments of hell, purgatory and\nthe blessedness of Paradise. But even here we find no entirely abstract\nseparation, of the two points of view, no mere relation of service\nbetween the particular objects. For in the Christian world the focus\nof conscious life is not conceived as nothing more than an accident of\nGodhead, but as essential and infinite cause or end itself, so that\nhere the universal purpose, that is the divine justice in condemnation\nand salvation can verily appear as immanent fact, the eternal interest\nand being of the individual himself. In this divine world the\nindividual is throughout of pre-eminent importance. In that of the\nState he can of course be sacrificed in order to save the universal,\nthat is the State. In his relation to God, however, and in the kingdom\nof God he is essentially and exclusively the end.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) We must, however, _thirdly_, conceive the universal, which\nsupplies the content of human emotion and action as self-subsistent,\nintrinsically complete where it is, and constituting as such in\nitself a definitive and exclusive world. When, for instance, in our\ncontemporary life mention is made of any officer, official, general,\nprofessor, and so forth, and we try to imagine what kind of action such\na man or personality is likely to attempt or carry out under his own\nparticular conditions of environment, we place before ourselves simply\na content of interest and activity, which in part is not itself a\nrounded and self-substantive whole, but one which stands in infinitely\nmanifold external connections, relations and conditions, in part also,\nif we regard it as abstract totality, one which can receive the form\nof a universal concept in its separation from the individuality of\nthe, in other respects, entire personality, as for instance that of\npersonal obligation. Conversely we may have no doubt a content of\nsterling character, making, that is to say, an essentially independent\nwhole, which, despite of this, and without further development and\nadvance, is complete in one sentence. It is really impossible to say\nwhether a content of this nature belongs more properly to poetry or\nprose. The grand affirmation of the old Testament, \"God said Let their\nbe Light and there was Light,\" is at once in its penetration, no less\nthan the precision of its embrace,[7] as much essentially sublime\npoetry as it is ordinary prose. Of a similar nature is the command, \"I\nam the Lord thy God, thou shalt have no other gods but me\"; or that,\n\"Honour thy father and thy mother.\" The golden epigrams of a Pythagoras\nand the wise sayings of Solomon are of the same type. Phrases, so\nrich in content as the above, have their origin in a world where the\ndistinction between poetry and prose is as yet absent. We can, however,\nhardly affirm of such that they are a poetical work of art, even though\nmany such phrases may be combined together. The independence and\nrounding off of a genuine poetical work must be assumed at the same\ntime to be of the nature of a process, and a differentiation of parts:\nwe assume it therefore to be a unity, the true character of which is\nonly made explicit by emphatic insistence upon its diversity. This\nprocess, absolutely essential in the plastic arts, regarded at least\naccording to the requirements of their form, is also more generally of\nthe greatest moment in a poetical composition.\n\n(_\u03b2_) This introduces us, then, to a _second_ feature of the work\nof art, namely, the organic differentiation of its several parts,\nessential to it not merely that it may be presented as an organic\nunity, but that the elaboration of all it implies may be rendered\ncomplete.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The most obvious reason of this necessity is referable to the\nfact that Art in general tends instinctively to particularization.\nThe effect of the scientific faculty is that what is particular and\nsingular fails to receive its complete vindication. And this is so\nnot merely because the understanding apprehends the manifold, as such\ntheoretic faculty, starting from its principles of generalization,\ncausing the particular fact thereby to evaporate in its abstract\ndeductions and categories; but also because it makes this manifold\nsubserve ends of purely practical import. Severe adherence to that\npurely relative value, which strictly belongs to the nature of the\nprocess, appears to the understanding as useless and tedious. To the\nconception and composition of poetry on the contrary every part, every\nphase in the result must remain of essential interest and vital.\nIt dallies therefore with delight in detail, depicts the same with\nenthusiasm, and treats every part as an independent whole. However\ngreat, therefore, in addition the content may be of a poetical work\nin its central interest, the organic completeness is equally asserted\nin subordinate detail, precisely as in the human organism every\nmember, every finger is rounded with exquisite delicacy in its unified\ncompleteness, and as a rule, we find in Nature that every particular\nexistence is enclosed within a perfect world of its own. The advance of\npoetry is therefore more slow than that compatible with the judgments\nand conclusions of the understanding, where we find that, whether\nregarded theoretically as science or with reference to practical\nconduct and action, the main stress is on the final result, this\nrather than on the path by which it is reached. As for the degree in\nwhich poetry approaches realization in its tenderness for such detail\nwe have already pointed out that it is not its vocation to describe\nwith excessive diffuseness what is exterior in the form of its sensuous\nappearance. If it therefore undertakes extensive descriptions without\nmaking them reflect at the same time the claims and interests of\nsoul-life it becomes heavy and tedious. Above all it must take care not\nto enter into deliberate rivalry with the actual detail, in its exact\ncompleteness, presented by natural fact itself. Even painting in this\nrespect should aim at circumspection and restriction. We have therefore\nhere and in the case of poetry a twofold point of view to consider.\nOn the one hand we must remember that the impression is on our mental\nvision; and on the other the art can only place before the mind the\nobject, which in Nature we can survey and comprehend in a single\nglance in a series of separate traits. For this reason it is important\nthat poetry does not carry its elaboration of detail so far, that the\nvision of the whole in its entirety becomes inevitably disturbed,\nconfused, or lost. It is obvious therefore that difficulties of an\nexceptional nature have to be overcome when the attempt is made to\nplace an action or event of varied nature before our vision, and where\nin actual life such happen in a single moment of time, and in close\nconnection with such immediacy, for all it can do is to present the\nsame in a continuous series. As respects this difficulty, no less than\nthe general way in which poetry, as already described, approaches the\ndetail of Nature, we find the demand of the several generic types of\nthe art differs very considerably. Epic poetry, for instance, attaches\nitself to the particularity of the external world with an emphasis\ntotally different from that of dramatic poetry, with its rapidity of\nforward movement, or from that of lyrical poetry with its exclusive\ninsistence on the ideally significant.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) It is through an elaboration of this kind that the several parts\nof a composition secure _subsistency._ No doubt this appears to stand\nin direct contradiction to the unity which we established as a primary\ncondition: as a matter of fact the opposition is merely apparent.\nThis independence should not, that is to say, assert itself in such\na way that the several parts are placed in absolute separation from\neach other: it must on the contrary only be carried so far that the\nseveral aspects and members of the whole are clearly seen on their own\naccount to be asserted in the vital form peculiar to each, and to stand\non their own free basis of independence. If, on the contrary, this\nindividualized life is absent from the several parts, the composition\nbecomes, precisely as Art generally can only invest the universal with\ndeterminate existence under the form of actual particularity, cold and\ndefunct.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Despite of this self-subsistency, however, these several parts\nmust remain likewise in conjunction to the extent that the _one_\nfundamental motive or purpose, made explicit and manifest in and\nthrough them, must declare itself as the unity which pervades the\nwhole, and in which the parts coalesce and to which they return. This\nis the condition of art, and pre-eminently so of poetry, where it falls\nshort of its noblest reach, upon which it most readily is wrecked, and\nthe work of art declines from the realm of a free imagination into\nthat of mere prose. To put it in another way, the connexion into which\nthe parts fall must not merely be one of final _cause and effect._ For\nin the relation of teleology the end is the universal as essentially\npresupposed and willed, which it is true succeeds in making the several\naspects tally with the process, yet employs them none the less as means\nand to this extent robs them of all really free stability and thereby\nof every sort of vitality. In such a case the parts merely fall under\na relation of purpose to one end, which is asserted imperiously to the\ndisadvantage of all else, and which accepts the same in abstraction\nas subservient and subordinate to itself. The freedom and beauty of\nart contradict flatly this servile relation of the abstract faculty of\nscience.\n\n(_\u03b3_) On these grounds the unity, asserted in the several parts of the\ncomposition, must be of another character. The definition of this may\nbe stated under two aspects of conception, as follows.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In the _first_ place, the vital presence we have already\nreferred to as peculiar to every part separately must be maintained.\nIf we direct our attention, however, to that which in fact justifies\nthe introduction of any detail whatever into the composition, we\nfind the point of departure to be _one_ fundamental idea which the\nsame as a whole is undertaken to manifest or interpret. Consequently\neverything defined and particular must announce that as the source of\nits own specific appearance. In other words, the content of a poetical\nwork must not be itself intrinsically abstract, but concrete, one\nthat by reason of its own wealth conducts us to a rich unravelment of\nits varied aspects. And when this variety, even assuming that in its\nrealization it falls to every appearance into plain contradictions,\nyet is as a matter of fact rooted in the essentially unified content\nwe have adverted to, in that case we may affirm that by necessity\nthe content itself, in a form agreeable to its notion and being,\ncomprises what is fundamentally an exclusive and harmonious totality\nof particular characteristics, which it possesses as its own, and in\nthe continuous expatiation of which what it is in its real significance\nis in truth rendered explicit. It is only _these_ several parts, which\noriginally belong to the content, and which consequently should be\ncarried into the composition under the mode of actual and essentially\nsound and vital existence. In this respect, therefore, despite all\nappearance the display of particular characteristics present of\nopposition to others, they are throughout combined in a union of\nmysterious accord, rooted in its own nature.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) _Secondly,_ since the composition is presented under the form\nof _natural_ phenomena, the unity must, in order to preserve the vital\nappearance of such reality, only be the _ideal_ bond, which to all\nappearance without intention holds together the parts and includes\nthem in an organic whole. It is just this animating union of organic\nlife which alone is able to bring into being true poetry as contrasted\nwith the expressed intention of plain prose. That is to say whenever\nparticularity exclusively appears as means to a definite end, it does\nnot possess and cannot conceivably possess an independent and unique\nvitality of its own; what it does testify to, on the contrary, is that\nit exists for the sake of something else, that is the end proposed.\nPurpose of this type declares its sovereignty over the objective facts\nthrough which it is fulfilled. An artistic composition should, however,\nconfer upon all that is particular within it, all in the expatiation\nof which it displays continuously the central and fundamental content\nselected, the appearance of an unfettered stability. This is absolutely\nnecessary, because what we here comprise under the term particularity\nis just that content itself under the mode of the reality which\ncorresponds with it. We may therefore recall to our minds the analogous\ntask of speculative thought, which in the same way has on the one\nside to develop the particular to the point of self-subsistency or\nfreedom from that which is at first an indefinite universality; and\nlikewise, too, it is called on to demonstrate how within this totality\nof what is particular, in which that and that only is divulged which\nessentially reposes in the universal, the unity is on this very account\nonce more asserted, and indeed then and only then is truly concrete\nunity, established through its own differences and their mediation.\nSpeculative philosophy is thus, in the same way, through the method of\ndialectic above adverted to, responsible for works which resemble in\nthis respect those of poetry, containing, that is, by virtue of the\ncontent, an essential identity of self-seclusiveness and a revelation\nof differentiated material in accord with it. We must, however, despite\nthis similarity between these two activities, and apart from the\nobvious difference between the evolution of pure thinking and creative\nart, draw attention to a further essential distinction. The deduction\nof philosophy no doubt vindicates the necessity and actuality of\nparticularity, but none the less, in virtue of the dialectic process in\nwhich this aspect of reality is asserted, it is expressly demonstrated\nof this particularity and all of it, that it for the first time\ndiscovers its truth and its stability in the concrete unity.[8] Poetry,\non the contrary, does not proceed to any such express demonstration.\nThe concordant unity must no doubt be completely vindicated in every\none of its creations, and be operative there in all their manifold\ndetail as the soul and vital core of the whole; but this presence\nremains for Art an ideal bond which is implied rather than expressly\nposited, precisely as the soul is immediately made vital in all the\nbodily members, without robbing the same of the appearance of an\nindependent existence. We have the same truth illustrated by colour and\ntone. Yellow, blue, green and red are different colours which admit\nof the most absolute contrast; but none the less, on account of the\nfact that as colour they all essentially belong to one totality, they\nmaintain a harmony throughout; and it is not, moreover, necessary that\nthis union as such should be expressly declared in them. In a similar\nway the dominant, the third and the fifth remain independent as tones,\nand yet for all that give us the harmony of the trichord; or, rather,\nwe should put it that they only produce this harmony so long as each\ntone is permitted to assert its own essentially free and characteristic\nsound.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In connection with this organic unity and articulate synthesis\nof a poetical composition we have further to consider essential\n_features of distinction_ which are due to the particular _artistic\nform_ appropriate to the composition under review, no less than the\nparticular _type_ of poetry in which we discover the specific character\nof its working out. Poetry, for example, of symbolic art is unable,\nowing to the more abstract and indefinite traits which constitute its\nessential and significant content, to attain to a fully organic fusion\nin the degree of transparency possible to the works of the classical\nart-form. In symbolism generally, as we have already established in the\nfirst part of this enquiry, the conjunction of general significance\nand the actual phenomenon, in association with which Art embodies\nits content, is of a less coherent character: as a result of this we\nfind that what is particular in one direction preserves a greater\nconsistency; in another, as in the case of the Sublime, only so far\nasserts this quality in order, through the negation thus implied, to\nrender more intelligible the _one_ supreme power and substance, or\nmerely to advance the process to a condition of mysterious association\nof particular, but at the same time heterogeneous no less than related\ntraits and aspects of natural and spiritual facts. Conversely, in\nthe romantic type, wherein the ideality of truth reveals itself in\nessential privacy to soul-life only, we find a wider field for the\ndisplay of the detail of rational reality in its self-subsistency; in\nthis latter case the conjunction of all parts and their union must\nnecessarily be present, but the nature of their elaboration can neither\nbe so clear or secure as in the products of classical art.\n\nIn a similar way the Epic gives us a more extensive picture of the\nexternal world; it even lingers by the way in episodical events\nand deeds, whereby the unity of the whole, owing to this increased\nisolation of the parts, appears to suffer diminution. The drama, in\ncontrast to this, requires a more strenuous conjunction, albeit, even\nin the drama, we find that romantic poetry permits the introduction of\na type of variety in the nature of episode and an elaborate analysis\nof characteristic traits in its presentation of soul-life no less than\nthat of external fact. Lyric poetry, as it changes conformably to the\nfluctuation of its types, adapts itself to a mode of presentment of\nthe greatest variety: at one time it is bare narration; at another\nthe exclusive expression of emotion or contemplation; at another it\nrestricts its vision, in more tranquil advance, to the central unity\nwhich combines; at another it shifts hither and thither in unrestrained\npassion through a range of ideas and emotions apparently destitute of\nany unity at all.\n\nThis, then, must suffice us on the general question of a poetical\ncomposition.\n\n(_b_) In order now,--this is our _second_ main head in the present\ndiscussion,--to examine more closely the distinction which obtains\nbetween the organic poem as above considered and the prose composition,\nwe propose to direct attention to those specific types of _prose_\nwhich, despite their obvious limitations, do none the less come into\nclosest affinity with art. Such are, without question, the arts of\nhistory and oratory.\n\n(_\u03b1_) As regards history, there can be no doubt that we find ample\nopportunity here for _one_ aspect of genuine artistic activity.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The evolution of human life in religion and civil society,\nthe events and destinies of the most famous individuals and peoples,\nwho have given emphasis to life in either field by their activity,\nall this presupposes great ends in the compilation of such a work,\nor the complete failure of what it implies. The historical relation\nof subjects and a content such as these admits of real distinction,\nthoroughness and interest: and however much our historian must\nendeavour to reproduce actual historical fact, it is none the less\nincumbent upon him to bring before our imaginative vision this motley\ncontent of events and characters, to create anew and make vivid the\nsame to our intelligence with his own genius.[9] In the creation\nof such a memorial he must, moreover, not rest satisfied with the\nbare letter of particular fact; he must bring this material into a\nco-ordinated and constructive whole; he must collectively conceive\nand embrace single traits, occurrences and actions under the unifying\nconcept; with the result that on the one hand we have flashed before us\na clear picture of nationality, epoch of time, external condition and\nthe spiritual greatness or weakness of the individuals concerned in the\nvery life and characterization which belonged to them; and on the other\nthat the bond of association, in which the various parts of our picture\nstand to the ideal historical significance of a people or an event, is\nasserted from such without exception. It is in this sense that we, even\nin our own day, speak of the art of Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon,\nTacitus, and a few others, and cannot cease to admire their narratives\nas classical products of the art of human language.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) It is nevertheless true that even these fine examples of\nhistorical composition do not belong to free Art. We may add that we\nshould have no poetry even though we were to assume with such works the\nexternal form of poetry, the measure or rhyme of verse and so forth.\nIt is not exclusively the manner in which history is written, but the\nnature of its _content_, which makes it prose. Let us look at this\nrather more closely.\n\nGenuine history, both in respect to aim and performance, only begins\nat the point where the heroic age, which in its origination it is the\npart of poetry and art to vindicate, ceases, for the reason that we\nhave here the moment when the distinct outlines and prose of life, in\nits actual conditions, no less than the way they are conceived and\nrepresented, come into being. Herodotus does not for instance describe\nthe Greek expedition to Troy, but the Persian wars, and takes pains,\nin a variety of ways, with tedious research and careful reflection, to\nbase the narrative proposed on genuine knowledge. The Hindoos, indeed\nwe may say the Orientals generally, with almost the single exception\nof the Chinese, do not possess this instinct of prose sufficiently\nto produce a genuine history. They invariably digress either into\nan interpretation and reconstruction of facts of a purely religious\ncharacter, or such as are fantastic inventions. The element of prose\nthen native to the historical age of any folk may be briefly described\nas follows.\n\nIn the _first_ place, in order that we may have history we must\npresuppose a common life, whether we consider the same on its religious\nside, or that of a polity, with its law, institutions, and the like,\nestablished on their own account, and possessing originally or in their\nsubsequent modification a validity as laws or conditions of general\napplication.\n\nIt is out of such a common life, _secondly_, that we mark the birth\nof definite activities for the preservation or change of the same,\nwhich may be of universal import, and in fact constitute the end or\nmotive of their continuance, and to complete and carry into effect\nwhich we have to presuppose individuals fitted for such a task. These\nindividuals are great and eminent in so far as they show themselves,\nthrough their effective personality, in co-operation with the common\nend, which underlies the ideal notion of the conditions which confront\nthem: they are little when they fail to rise in stature to the demand\nthus made on their energy: they are depraved when, instead of facing as\ncombatants of the practical needs of the times,[10] they are content\nmerely to give free rein to an individual force which is, with its\nimplied caprice, foreign to all such common ends. Where, however, any\nof such conditions obtain we do not have either a genuine content or a\ncondition of the world such as we established in the first part of our\ninquiry as essential to the art of poetry. Even in the case of personal\ngreatness the substantive aim of its devotion is to a large or less\nextent something given, presupposed, and enforced upon it, and to that\nextent the unity of individuality is excluded, wherein the universal,\nthat is the entire personality should be selfidentical, an end\nexclusively for itself, an independent whole in short. For however much\nthese individuals discover their aims in their own resources, it is for\nall that not the freedom or lack of it in their souls and intelligence,\nin other words the vital manifestation of their personality, but the\naccomplished end, and its result as operative upon the actual world\nalready there, and essentially independent of such individuality, which\nconstitutes the object of history. And, moreover, from a further point\nof view we find manifested in the historical condition the play of\ncontingency, that breach between what is implicitly substantive and\nthe relativity of particular events and occurrences, no less than of\nthe specific subjectivity of characters displayed in their personal\npassions, opinions and fortunes, which in this prosaic mode of life\npresent far more eccentricity and variation than do the wonders of\npoetry, which through all diversity must remain constant to what is\nvalid in all times and places.\n\nAnd _finally_, in respect to the actual execution of affairs within\nthe cognisance of history we find here again the introduction of\na prosaic element, if we contrast it with the impulse of genuine\npoetry, partly in the division asserted by personal idiosyncracy\nfrom a consciousness of laws, principles, maxims and so forth, which\nis thereby necessarily absorbed in the universal condition or fact;\nand in part also the realization of the ends proposed involve much\npreparation and arrangement, the means to effect which extend far,\nand embrace many necessary or subservient relations, which have to be\nreadjusted and adapted, in order to carry out the course proposed,\nwith intelligence, prudence and prosaic circumspection. The work in\nshort cannot be undertaken offhand, but only to a large extent after\nextensive introduction. The result of this is that the particular acts\nof execution, which, it is here assumed, come into effect for the _one_\nmain purpose, are often either wholly contingent in respect to their\ncontent, and remain without ideal union, or are asserted under the\nform of a practical utility regulated by a mind dominated by the aims\nproposed; in other words, they do not proceed unmediated from the core\nof free and independent life itself.[11]\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) The historian then has no right to expunge these prosaic\ncharacteristics of his content, or to convert them into others more\n_poetical;_ his narrative must embrace what lies actually before him\nand in the shape he finds it without amplification,[12] or at least\npoetical transformation. However much, therefore, it may become a\npart of his labours to make the ideal significance and spirit of an\nepoch, a people, or the particular event depicted, the ideal focus\nand bond which holds all together in one coherent whole, he is not\nentitled to make either the conditions presented him, the characters or\nevents, wholly subordinate to such a purpose, though he may doubtless\nremove from his survey what is wholly contingent and without serious\nsignificance; he must, in short, permit them to appear in all their\nobjective contingency, dependence and mysterious caprice. No doubt in\nbiography the full animation of personality and an independent unity is\nconceivably possible, because in such a work the individual, no less\nthan all which proceeds from him and is operative in moulding such\na figure, is throughout the focus of the composition. A historical\ncharacter is, however, exclusively one of two opposed extremes. For\nalthough we deduce a unity of subject from the same, none the less from\nanother point of view various events and transactions obtrude, which\nin part are without any essential ideal connection, and in part come\ninto contact with such individuality without any free co-operation on\nthe part of the same, and to this extent involve the same within the\ncontingency of such an external condition. So, for example, Alexander\nis without question a personality, pre-eminent above all others of his\nepoch, and one which, in virtue of its unique forces, falling as they\ndo in accord with contemporary world conditions, becomes engaged in the\nPersian invasion. The continent of Asia none the less, which Alexander\nvanquishes, is in the capricious variety of its nationalities a whole\nunited by no necessary bond.[13] Historical events pass before him as\nthe bare panorama of purely objective phenomena. And, finally, if the\nhistorian adds to his survey his private reflections as a philosopher,\nattempting thereby to grasp the absolute grounds for such events,\nrising to the sphere of that divine being, before which all that is\ncontingent vanishes and a loftier mode of necessity is unveiled, he\nis none the less debarred, in reference to the actual conformation of\nevents, from that exclusive right of poetry, namely, to accept this\nsubstantive resolution as the fact of most importance. To poetry alone\nis the liberty permitted to dispose without restriction of the material\nsubmitted in such a way that it becomes, even regarded on the side of\nexternal condition, conformable with ideal truth.\n\n(_\u03b2_) _Secondly_, _oratory_ appears to have a closer affinity with the\nfreedom of art.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) For although the orator avails himself of the opportunity for\nand content of his effort out of actual life and definite circumstances\nand opinions, all that he utters remains none the less, in the _first_\nplace, subject to his free choice. His personal aims and views are\nimmanent therein, in virtue of which he can make the same a complete\nand living expression of his personality. And, _secondly_, the\ndevelopment of the subject of his oration and the mode of delivery\ndepends entirely on himself, so that the impression he makes is as\nthough we received in his speech a wholly independent expression\nof mind. And, _finally_, it is his vocation not merely to address\nhimself to the trained or ordinary intelligence of his hearers, but to\nwork upon their entire humanity, their emotions, no less than their\njudgment. The substance of what he has to say and in which he strives\nto awake interest, is not merely the abstract aspect of it, nor is it\nthis aspect of his main purpose, in the fulfilment of which he invites\nco-operation, but rather for the most part also a definite and very\nreal thing. For this reason the substance of the orator's address,\nwhile embracing what is essentially substantive in its character,\nought equally to grasp his general principle under the form of its\nspecific manifestation, and render the same intelligible to conscious\nlife in the full concrete sense of the term. The orator then must not\nmerely satisfy our understanding with the cogency of his deductions\nand conclusions, but has it in his power to address the soul itself,\nto rouse human passion and carry it captive, to absorb the whole\nattention, and by such means, through all the avenues of spirit, to\nravish and convince his audience.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Despite, however, such considerations, looked at rightly we find\nthat it is just in the arts of oratory that this apparent freedom is\nalmost wholly subordinate to the rule of practical _utility_. In other\nwords what confers upon public speaking its unique motive force is not\nimplied in the particular purpose, to promote which the speech is made;\nwe must refer it to the general principle, the laws, rules, axioms\nwhich the particular case suggests, and which are already essentially\npresent in this form of universality, partly, as actual laws of the\nState, partly too as ethical, juristic or religious maxims, emotions,\ndogmas, and so forth. The particular circumstance and end, which we\nfind here as the point of departure, and this universal are in every\nrespect separate from each other, and this separation is the relation\nmaintained throughout. No doubt the orator intends to make these two\naspects unite: what, however, in poetry, in so far as poetry is really\npresent, attests as already from the first accomplished, is present in\noratory merely as the personal aim of the orator, the fulfilment of\nwhich lies outside the speech itself altogether.\n\nThe only alternative we have left us is a process of _subsumation_,\nwhereby the phenomenon, the actual and defined thing, here the concrete\ncase or end, is not unravelled in immediate unity with the universal as\nsuch, and freely from its own substance, but only receives validity by\nvirtue of its dependence upon general principles and in its relation to\nlegislative acts, morality, customs, and the like, which on their own\naccount possess independent stability. It is not the spontaneous life\nof the fact in its concrete manifestation, but the prosaic division\nbetween notion and reality, a mere relation of both to each other and\na mere demand for their union, which constitutes the fundamental type\nunder consideration.\n\nSuch a process of thought is frequently adopted by the religious\nteacher. For him religious doctrines, in their widest connotation, and\nthe principles of morality or of philosophy, political or otherwise,\nwhich follow in their train, are in fact precisely the object whereto\nhe can refer cases of every conceivable variety; and they are this\nfor the reason that these doctrines have to be accepted, believed and\nrecognized by the religious consciousness as essentially and in their\nown worth the substance of all particular appearance. No doubt the\npreacher may at the same time appeal to our heart, may suffer the\ndivine laws to unveil from the depth of soul-life as their source, and\nface to face with his audience may refer them to such a source. But it\nis not in their absolutely individual guise that he must necessarily\npresent and assert them; on the contrary, he must bring effective\nuniversality to consciousness under precisely this form of commands,\npromises and maxims of faith. The oratory of courts of law is even\na better illustration. Here we find in addition the twofold point\nof view, that while on the one hand all turns most obviously on the\nparticular case, yet conversely the subsumation of this case to general\nconsiderations and laws is equally a necessity. As regards the _first_\naspect, we may remark that the element of prose is already implied in\nthe enforced investigation of the actual facts and the collocation\nand able reconstruction of all singular circumstances and accidents;\na process such as this at once opens our eyes to the poverty involved\nin this investigation of the truth of such a legal case, no less than\nthe tedious ingenuity engaged in its display, if we contrast it at\nleast with the free creations of poetry. We have in fact to carry our\nanalysis of the concrete facts to a yet further point. Such must not\nmerely be traced in a series that does justice to all features, but\nevery one of such features, no less than the whole case, have to be\nreferred back to the statute accepted from the first as of independent\nvalidity. At the same time, even in this prosaic affair, we still have\nconsiderable scope for an impression on the heart and emotions. For it\nis possible so to present the rightness or wrongness of the case under\ndiscussion to the imagination that we are no longer bound to acquiesce\nin the bare knowledge of the facts and a general conviction; on the\ncontrary, the case in its entirety is capable of becoming, by virtue of\nthe style adopted in its exposition, so marked with the characteristics\nof personality to everyone who hears it, that no one can fail to\ndiscover there a personal interest as of something which concerns\nhimself.\n\n_Secondly_, in the oratorical art, artistic delivery and elaboration\nis not that which constitutes the ultimate and highest interest of the\nspeaker; he possesses in addition and beyond his art an ulterior aim,\nthat the entire form and working out of his discourse should rather\nbe used exclusively as the most effective means to promote an interest\nwhich is outside. From this point of view the audience too have to be\ninfluenced not on their own independent account, but the effort is\nrather to excite emotion and conviction exclusively as a means toward\nthe attainment of the purpose, the fulfilment whereof the orator has\nproposed from the first. The mode of presentation, therefore, ceases\nto be an end for itself even to the listener; its claim becomes\nexclusively that of a means to some particular conviction, or an\nincentive to definite conclusions or activities.\n\nFor these reasons from this point of view also the art loses its\nfreedom of form; it becomes a means to a purpose, to a further\ndemand[14], which, this is a _third_ point, in relation to the\n_consequence_, is not satisfied in the actual speech itself and its\nartistic handling. The composition of poetry on the contrary has no\nother object than the manifestation and enjoyment of beauty. End\nand accomplishment reposes here immediately and essentially in the\nindependent work, which for that reason is complete; artistic activity\nis no means to an essentially ulterior result, but an end which at\nonce is rounded in itself by virtue of its own execution. In oratory\nart receives merely a position of service to something collateral;\nthe genuine end is therefore not as such consonant with art, but of a\npractical character, that is to say, instruction, edification, judgment\nof legal matters or political affairs, and therewith a reference to\nsome matter which has first to happen, or to a decision not yet carried\nout, but which, however, are in neither case terminated or completed\nthrough the resultant effect of the art in question, but can only be\nso in various ways after a contact with quite other activities. A\nspeech in fact may often conclude with a dissonance, which the hearer\nhas first to resolve as judge, and only then is able to act agreeably\nwith such a verdict. Just as, for example, the oratory of the pulpit\nstarts from the point of the unconverted soul, and in the result makes\nthe hearer pass judgment over his own self and his soul's condition.\nIn such a case religious conversion is the object of the preacher; but\nwhether such a conversion follows as a result of all the edification\nand excellence of his eloquent exhortations, and thus the end proposed\nis carried out, is a point of view which the sermon itself cannot deal\nwith; it must be perforce relegated to subsequent conditions.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In all these directions the notion of eloquence will fall rather\nunder the main principle of utility than maintain itself within the\nfree and organized whole of the poetical art-product. In short the\norator must necessarily and above all make it his mark to subordinate\nthe whole, no less than the parts, to that purpose in his mind, from\nwhich his effort proceeds, a process in which the self-consistent\nindependence of his exposition disappears, and in lieu of which we must\nassume a relation of service to a definite end that ceases to be of\nartistic significance. And above all, inasmuch as the object in view\nis one of practical influence upon human life, he must keep throughout\nbefore his mind the nature of the place in which he speaks, the\ndegree of education, the receptive powers, and, in short, the general\natmosphere of his audience, that he may not fall short of the practical\nsuccess desired through an inability to meet the local conditions of\nthe moment, and the idiosyncrasies of his audience. By reason of this\nvery attachment to external conditions it is impossible that either\nthe entirety of his address or its parts can any longer originate in\na free artistic activity[15]; it will constantly tend in its detailed\nelaboration to appropriate utilitarian points of association, and be\ndominated by conceptions of cause and effect, and other categories more\nproper to science.\n\n(_c_) And, _thirdly_, we may, as flowing from the above distinction\nbetween what is really poetical and the creations of the historian and\nthe orator, establish the following points pertinent to the poetical\ncomposition itself.\n\n(_\u03b1_) We found that in history the element of prose consisted above\nall in this that however much the content thereof could be ideally\nsubstantive and possessed of a downright penetrative power, the\nactual form of the same was, however, invariably accompanied with\nmany conditions of relative validity, massed together with much that\nwas contingent, and finally often referable to caprice simply as its\nground, aspects of immediate objective fact which the historian was not\nentitled to translate into the terms of a reality of profounder grasp.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The effort of such a transfiguration is in fact a fundamental\n_desideratum_ of the poetical art when it, so far as its material is\nconcerned, steps into the arena of history. It is its business in short\nin such a case to discover the mere ideal core and significance of an\nevent, action, or a national type, a famous historical personality,\nand as decisively to brush aside aspects of contingency, everything in\nfact purely incidental or indifferent, which plays round such types or\nindividuals, and stands to them in a purely relative connection. It\nhas then to establish, in the place of the circumstances and traits\nit rejects, others which reveal the ideal essence of the facts in\ntheir clarity, to the intent that in this transfigured presence such\nshall so discover concrete truth in its fulness that the reason,\nwhich has hitherto lain concealed, though implied in them, shall now\nfor the first time assert itself as evolved and declared in complete\nrealization. By this means alone poetry is able in the proposed work to\nmake its content coalesce in the secure unity of a centre, able as such\nto round and unfold itself in a whole. And this is possible because\nit not only is operative as a more effective bond between the parts,\nbut also because, without compromising the unity of the whole, all its\nvaried particularity is suffered to assert its claim to an independent\nimpression.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Poetry may in this respect make a yet further advance, when, it\naccepts as its main content, in lieu of the material and significance\nof the historical fact, some fundamental idea, some human collision\nin general associated with it in a close or more remote affinity, and\nemploys the historical _factum_ and personages, everything local\nin short, merely in the guise or garment of individualization. The\ndifficulty to be encountered here is twofold: either the historically\nascertained data, when appropriated by the composition, may fall out of\nline with the fundamental idea; or, conversely, it may be that the poet\nin some measure retains these data, but also too in essential features\nmoulds them conformably to his purposes, and by doing this work fails\nto harmonize the element of stability with that of original design\nwhich were both essential to our conception of the poetical product.\nTo dispel such an opposition and to reassert the accordant note able\nto do this is a difficult matter; it is none the less necessary, for\nobjective reality has itself too an unquestionable title to what is\nessential in the character of its appearance.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) We may extend the reach of poetry yet further and we shall\nstill find that the demand to be met is the same. In other words,\nall that the art of poetry represents in external local condition,\ncharacterization, actions, passions, situations, conflicts, events,\nand human destiny, all this material is borrowed, far more so in fact\nthan is generally credited, from the facts of life itself. This being\nso, poetry here too is on the historical arena; and, consequently, its\ndeviations or variations of such data must, in this field also, find\ntheir point of departure in the rational core of the facts in question\nand the demand of the art to discover for this ideal essence a form\nthat exhibits it with greatest adequacy and life. And this must not be\nsought for in the poverty of a superficial knowledge, an inability to\npenetrate what is really vital in fact, or in the moods of caprice and\nwith the craving after the quaint or perverse ingenuities of a spurious\noriginality.\n\n(_\u03b2_) And further, as already stated, oratory is allied to prose on\naccount of the practical end which is thereby proposed, and, to carry\nout which, it is forced to admit to the full the claims of utility.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In this respect poetry must take care to detach itself from\nany end of this kind outside Art's domain, and the claim of artistic\nenjoyment simply; that it may not fall into the sphere of prose. For if\nany purpose of this sort is made to appear of essential importance, as\npart of the entire conception and presentation, the composition at once\ndescends from that loftier region, in whose free atmosphere it floats\non its own account and on no other, and is drawn into that of relation\nmerely. As a result of this we have either a breach made between the\nfundamental aim of art and the ends of ulterior intendments; or art\nis used as a means simply, contradicts its substantive notion, and\nbecomes the menial of utility. The edifying effusions of many church\nhymns are of this character. Particular ideas are simply admitted on\nreligious grounds, and receive a style of composition which is alien\nto the beauty of poetry. And, speaking generally, poetry, simply as\npoetry, has no right to edify in a _religious_ sense, or at least\n_exclusively_ in this sense. If it does so we are carried into a\nregion, which no doubt possesses relationship with both poetry and art,\nbut is for all that distinct from it. We may say the same of teaching\ngenerally, ethical instruction, political treatises, or writings of all\nkinds written for our momentary recreation and enjoyment. All these\nare objects, to whose attainment the art of poetry is, or can be more\nthan any other, contributory. But such contributions must not enter\ninto the purpose, if the spirit of the work is to assert itself freely\nin its own character. In the poetical effort it is only what is really\npoetic, eliminated from all that is foreign to this quality, which must\nremain paramount as the end proposed and accomplished. And in fact such\nulterior aims as the above can be carried out far more appropriately by\nquite other means.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The art of poetry, however, from the converse point of view,\nshould strive to assert no absolute and isolated position; it ought,\nas a part of life itself, to enter freely into life. Already in the\nfirst part of this inquiry we found how many points of contact there\nwere between art and ordinary existence, whose content and phenomenal\nappearance are repeated in its content and form. In poetry this vital\nrelation to actual existence and its specific circumstances, private\nor public events, appears with most obvious variety in the so-called\n_poems d'occasion._ With a broader interpretation of the expression we\nmay define as such most poetic compositions; in the more narrow and\ncorrect meaning of the term, however, we should restrict it to those\nproductions whose origin is traceable to a single event of present\ntime, which it is the express aim of the poet to emphasize, adorn, and\ncelebrate. In this weaving together of the actual threads of life,\nhowever, poetry tends once more to decline to a position of dependence;\nit is therefore by no means unusual for writers on aesthetic to attach\na purely subordinate value to poetry of this class in general, although\nas to a part of it, notably in the case of the lyric, we find here the\nmost famous compositions.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) The question consequently arises by virtue of what poetry may\nbe enabled to still maintain its independence even in the conflict\nabove described. The answer is simple. It must regard and assert the\noccasional facts it borrows from life not as its essential aim, while\nit is itself merely accepted as a means. Rather the reverse process\nis the right one, which absorbs the material of such reality within\nits own substance, and informs and elaborates the same conformably to\nthe claims of an unfettered imagination. In other words poetry has\nnothing to do with the accidental or incidental fact as such. This\nmaterial supplies the external opportunity, that is the stimulus which\nprompts the poet to draw upon his own profounder penetration and more\ntransparent mode of presentment: by this means he creates from his own\nresources, as something newborn, that which, without such mediation,\nwould have, in the plain and blunt particular case, wholly failed to\nimpress us with the free spirit he communicates.\n\n(_\u03b3_) In conclusion then we may affirm that every genuine work of\npoetry is an essentially infinite organism.[16] In content rich, it\nunfolds this content under a mode of appearance which is adapted\nto it. It is permeated with a principle of unity, but not one\nreferable to the form of utility, which subordinates the particular\nto itself in an abstract relation, but rather one that absorbs the\nsame in the singularity relevant to one identical and entirely vital\nself-consistency, in which the whole, without any visible intention, is\nsphered within one rounded and essentially self-enclosed completeness.\nIt is indeed replete with the _materia_ of the visible world, but\nis not on that account placed, either in relation to its content or\ndeterminate existence, under a condition of dependence to any one\ncircle of life. Rather it freely creates out of its own plenitude,\nstriving to clothe the ideal notion of its material in its genuine\nmanifestation as truth, and to bring the world of external fact into\nreconciled accord with its own most ideal substance.\n\n\n\n\n3. THE CREATIVE IMPULSE OF THE POET[17]\n\n\nI have already discussed at considerable length, in the first part of\nthis work, the talent and genius, the enthusiasm and originality of the\nartist. I will consequently merely touch upon one or two points in the\npresent reference to the art of poetry which appear of importance, if\nwe contrast this activity as effective here with that operative in the\nplastic arts and music.\n\n(_a_) The architect, sculptor, painter and musician have to deal\nwith an entirely concrete and sensuous material, in and through\nwhich each has to elaborate his creations. The limitations of this\nmaterial condition the specific form that the type of the conception\nno less than the mode of artistic execution assume. The more fixed\nand predetermined the general lines of his definition are upon which\nthe artist has to concentrate himself, the more specialized becomes\nthe talent required for the assertion of the same in any one and no\nother mode of presentment; and we may add in the powers of technical\nexecution which accompany it. The talents adapted to the poetic art,\nregarding the same from the point of view of an ideal envisagement\nin a specific _materia_, is subordinated in a less degree to such\nconditions; it is consequently more open to universal practice, and\nin this respect more independent. The need here at least is merely\nthat of a gift for imaginative creation. Its limitation is confined\nmerely to this, namely, that for the reason that this art is expressed\nin language, it has to guard itself on the one hand from deliberate\nrivalry with external objects in their sensuous completeness, in\nthe form, that is, where we find the plastic artist apprehends his\nsubject-matter in its external configuration: and, from a further point\nof view, it is unable to rest in the unspoken ideality, the emotional\ntones of which constitute the realm of music. In these respects the\nproblem proposed to the poet, if we contrast him with artists in other\narts, is at once more _facile_ and more _difficult_ It is more easy,\nbecause, although the poet, in the poetical elaboration of speech, must\npossess a trained talent, he is spared the relatively more manifold\ntask of triumph over technical difficulties necessary in the other\narts. It is more difficult because, just in proportion as poetry is\nless able to complete the objective envisagement, it is compelled\nto seek some compensation for this loss on the side of sense in the\ngenuine core of Art's own ideality, in the depth of imagination and a\nreally artistic mode of conception.\n\n(_b_) For this reason the poet is, in the _second_ place, constrained\nto penetrate into all the wealth of the spiritual content, and to lay\nbare to the vision of mind what is concealed in its depths. For however\nmuch in the other arts, too, the ideal must shine forth through its\ncorporeal manifestation, and does so in life itself shine forth, yet\nthe medium of speech remains that most open to intelligence, and the\nmeans most adequate to its revelation. It is the one medium able to\ngrasp and declare everything whatever that flows through or is present\nin consciousness, whether regarded in its ascent or profundity. In\nconsequence of this the poet finds himself confronted with difficulties\nwhich the other arts are not called upon to overcome or satisfy to\nthe like degree. In other words, for the very reason that poetry is\nactually operative in the world of idea or imagination itself, and is\nnot concerned with fashioning for its images an objective existence\nindependent of such ideality, it is placed in an element or sphere in\nwhich the religious, scientific and everyday consciousness are active;\nit must therefore take care to make no excursion into the domain or\nmode of conception proper to any of these, or to get mixed up with\nthem. No doubt in the case of every art we find points of contact with\nother arts. Artistic creation of every kind proceeds from _one_ mind or\nspirit, which comprehends in itself all spheres of self-conscious life.\nBut with the other arts the distinction of conception in each case is\nin its mode complete, for the reason that this, in its ideal creation,\npersists throughout in permanent relation to the execution of its\nimages in a definite sensuous material, and consequently is absolutely\ndistinct, no less from the forms of the religious consciousness,\nthan it is from the thinking of science and the intelligence of\nordinary life. Poetry, on the contrary, avails itself, in its manner\nof objective communication, of the very means adopted in these spheres\nof mental activity, that is to say, human speech; it finds itself,\nconsequently, otherwise placed than are the plastic arts and music,\nwhich occupy a different field of conception and expression.\n\n(_c_) _Thirdly_, we have the final demand made upon the poet for the\nmost profound and manifold transfusion of the subject-matter of his\ncreations with the animating soul of life, because it is his art which\nis capable of absorbing most profoundly the entire fulness of the\nspiritual content. The plastic artist, in a similar way, must apply\nhimself to a transfusion of ideal expression in the _external form_ of\narchitectonic, plastic and the forms peculiar to painting. The musician\nmust likewise rivet his attention on the _inner soul_ concentrated\nin emotion and passion and their outpouring in melodic expression.\nIn both cases the artist must be steeped in the most ideal intention\nand substance of his content. But the sphere of the poet's creative\nactivity extends yet further, for the reason that he has not merely\nto elaborate an ideal world of soul-life and the self-conscious mind.\nHe has, in addition, to discover for this ideal realm an external\nmode of envisagement fitted thereto, a mode by virtue of which that\nideal totality shines through in more irresistible perfection than is\npossible in the case of other arts. It is incumbent upon him to know\nhuman existence, both as soul-life and objective life, to receive into\nhis inmost being the full breadth of the world and its shows, and to\nhave felt through it there, penetrated, enlarged, deepened and revealed\nto himself all it implies. Only after that, and in order that he may\nfind it in his power to create, as from his own spiritual experience\noutwards, a free whole,--ay, even in the case where he restricts his\neffort to a comparatively narrow and particular range,--he must have\nliberated himself from all embarrassment with his subject-matter,\nwhether of a _technical_[18] character or otherwise, able in short\nto survey the ideal and external aspects thereof with the same free\nglance. From the point of view of _instinctive_ creative vigour[19]\nwe may in this respect pre-eminently praise the Mahomedan poets of\nthe East. The starting-point in such compositions is a freedom which,\neven in the moment of passion, remains aloof from such passion, and in\nall the variety of its interests retains exclusively throughout the\n_one_ substance as its veritable core, in contrast to which everything\nelse appears small and transitory, and nothing of finality is left\neither to passion or lust. This is a philosophical outlook, a relation\nof spirit to the facts of the world, which comes more readily to age\nthan youth. For in old age no doubt the interests of life are still\npresent; but they are not there with the urgency of youthful passion,\nbut rather in the guise of shadows, and to this extent are more readily\nconformable to ideal relations such as Art demands. In opposition to\nthe ordinary view that youth with its warmth and vigour is the fairest\nseason for poetic creation, we may rather, at least from this point of\nview, maintain just the opposite, that the ripest season belongs to the\nautumn of old age, provided that it is able to preserve its energies\nof outlook and emotion. It is only to a blind old man, Homer, that we\nascribe those miraculous poems which have come down to us under that\nname. And we may also affirm of our Goethe that only in old age, after\nhe had fully succeeded in liberating his genius from all restricting\nlimitations of sense, that he gave us his most exalted creations.[20]\n\n\n\n[Footnote 1: That is, the essential notion (_Begriff_) of Art\ngenerally.]\n\n[Footnote 2: _Substantiellen_, _i.e.,_ the form that most corresponds\nto its essence.]\n\n[Footnote 3: _Theoretisch._ Hegel doubtless has the Greek word in his\nmind. It is a _Bildung_ for the mind rather than with a view to action.\nIt assumes contemplation rather than volition.]\n\n[Footnote 4: It is not quite clear whether Hegel means by _Bed\u00fcrfniss_\nthe need of spiritual life, or the profounder demand of reality. It\nmight stand for either.]\n\n[Footnote 5: That is, the _Vern\u00fcnft._]\n\n[Footnote 6: _Das individualisirte Vern\u00fcnftige_, _i.e._, reason as\nrealized in concrete personality.]\n\n[Footnote 7: _In seiner Gediegenheit und schlagenden Fassung.\nGediegenheit_ here thorough grasp. _Schlagenden_ may possibly mean\narresting character of the conception rather than definite, precise.]\n\n[Footnote 8: That is, the notion.]\n\n[Footnote 9: By _aus dem Geiste_ it is quite possible that there is no\nreference to individual genius. In that case the translation would be\n\"in terms of human intelligence,\" _i.e._, from the resources of human\nreason.]\n\n[Footnote 10: This seems to be the meaning of _die Sache der Zeit._]\n\n[Footnote 11: Lit., \"They do not come forth from self-substantive and\nimmediately free vitality (Lebendigkeit).\" _Lebendigkeit_ is here the\nideal and creative force or bond of soul-life as above described.]\n\n[Footnote 12: The German word would imply here an interpretation of\nsymbolic or at least ideal significance.]\n\n[Footnote 13: This I presume is the general meaning of the sentence:\n_Asien aber, das er besiegt, ist in der vielfachen Willk\u00fchr seiner\nEinzelnen V\u00f6lkerschaften nur ein zuf\u00e4lliges Ganzes._]\n\n[Footnote 14: _Ein Sollen._]\n\n[Footnote 15: It is possible that too much stress is laid on this line\nof difference. The fundamental difference between oratory and poetry\nis that of form. At least it can hardly be denied that the power of\nthe orator to meet the demands of local conditions is a vital feature\nof his art, that in this respect a Demosthenes is greater than Burke.\nIt is surely a mistake to assume that such limitations in themselves\nor necessarily are an obstacle to creative genius. It is rather the\nsign of supreme oratorical power that it can mould them and command\nthem in conjunction with its more majestic spirit. In this lies an\nessential part of the art itself, just as a sculptor or a painter, such\nas Tintoret in the S. Rocco Scuola, dominates the defects of local\ncondition.]\n\n[Footnote 16: Infinite, that is, not in the temporal sense, but as a\ncomplete and self-realized whole.]\n\n[Footnote 17: Hegel calls it \"the poetising subjectivity\"; that is, the\npersonal activity essential to poetic composition.]\n\n[Footnote 18: _Practischen_.]\n\n[Footnote 19: This appears to be the meaning of _des Naturells_.]\n\n[Footnote 20: This is perhaps less true of Goethe than it is of\neither Milton or Shakespeare. It is possible that Hegel thought more\nhighly of the second part of \"Faust\" as art than do the majority of\nmodern critics. But the truth is there, if subject to a good deal of\nqualification in respect to certain aspects of poetry. As Meredith says:\n\n\n    \"Verily now is our season of seed,\n    Now in our Autumn.\"\n\n\nAnd Meredith was not one to do less than justice to the superb Dream of\nimaginative youth.]\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nTHE EXPRESSION OF POETRY\n\n\nThe field of vision which first will occupy our attention, but the\nboundless expanse of which we can only traverse with a few general\nobservations, is that which concerns the poetic generally, the content\nno less than the mode of conception and organic association adapted\nto the poetic work of art. This background will help to emphasize the\n_second_ aspect of our subject, which is _poetic expression_ more\nstrictly, the idea in the ideal objectivity of the word appropriated by\nit as symbol of the image, and the melodious vehicle of its speech.\n\nWe may infer the nature of the relation between poetic expression\ngenerally and the mode of presentment proper to the other arts from our\nprevious examination of the characteristics of the poetic art. Language\nand the sounds of words are neither a symbol of spiritual conceptions,\nnor an adequate mode of projecting ideality under the condition of\nspatial objectivity in the sense applicable to the corporeal forms of\nsculpture and painting, nor yet an intonation in musical sound of the\nentire soul. They are an abstract _sign_ simply. As the vehicle of the\npoetic image or conception, however, it is necessary that this side\nalso, in theory no less than deliberate elaboration, appear as distinct\nfrom the kind of expression appropriate to prose.\n\nWe may for this purpose emphasize with more detail three main points of\ndistinction.\n\nOur _first_ point is this, that although poetic expression is\nthroughout exclusively embodied in articulate words, and apparently\nas such is simply related to human speech, yet in so far as the words\nthemselves are merely abstract signs representative of _ideas,_ the\ntrue source of poetic speech is not to be discovered in the selection\nof particular words, and in the manner they are associated in sentences\nand elaborated phrases, nor in harmonious rhythm, rhyme and so forth,\nbut in the type of _conception_ employed. We have, in short, to look\nfor our point of departure for the constructive use of expression in\nthe choice of the idea or image, find our first and foremost question\nwill be what kind of conception will give us an expression suitable to\npoetry. _Secondly_, however, it remains the fact that the imaginative\nidea essentially pertinent to poetry is exclusively made objective\nin _language._ We have consequently to investigate the expression of\nspeech according to its purely verbal aspect, in the light of which\npoetic words are distinguishable from those of prose, poetic phrases\nfrom those of our ordinary life and prosaic thought, abstracting in the\nfirst instance the mere sound of them to our sense of hearing.\n\n_Finally_, we have to recognize the fact that poetry is a mode of\narticulate speech, the sounding word, which in its temporal duration no\nless than its actual sound, must receive a definite configuration, one\nthat implies the presence of time-measure, rhythm, melodious sound and\nrhyme.\n\n\n\n\nI. THE POETIC CONCEPT OR IDEA\n\n\nWhat in the plastic arts the sensuous visible _form_ expressed by\nmeans of stone and colour is, or what in the realm of music animating\nstrains of harmony and melody are, this--we must repeatedly insist on\nthe fact--can only be, in respect to poetic expression--the idea or\nimage itself. The force of the poet's creation centres consequently,\nin the fact that the art moulds a content in an ideal medium, and\nwithout bringing before us the actual forms of external Nature and the\nprogressions of musical sound; by doing so, therefore, it translates\nthe objective presence accepted by the other arts into an ideal form,\nwhich Spirit or intelligence expresses for the imagination under the\nmode which is and must remain that of our conscious life.\n\nA distinction of this very character was already insisted on when we\nhad occasion previously to establish a distinction between the earliest\ntype, of poetry and its later modes of reconstruction from the data of\nprose.\n\n(_a_) Imaginative poetry in its _origin_ is not as yet a consciously\ndistinct form from those extremes of ordinary conscious life, one of\nwhich brings everything to vision under the mode of immediate and\ntherewith contingent singularity, without grasping the ideal essence\nimplied therein, and the manifestation of the same; while the other,\nin one direction, differentiates concrete existence into its various\ncharacteristics, making use of abstract generalization, and in another\navails itself of the scientific faculty as the correlating and\nconnecting focus of such abstractions. The idea is only poetical in so\nfar as it holds these extremes in unviolable mediation, and thereby is\nable to maintain a position of genuine stability midway between the\nvision of ordinary consciousness and that of abstract thought.\n\nIn general terms we may define the poetic imagination as _plastic_[1]\nin so far as it brings before our vision concrete reality rather\nthan the abstract generalization, and in the place of contingent\nexistence an appearance of such a kind that we recognize what is\nsubstantive immediately in it by virtue of its embodiment itself and\nits individuality, and as inseparable from it, and by virtue of this\nare able to grasp the concrete conception-of the fact in question no\nless than its determinate existence as one and the same vital whole\nreposing in the ideal medium of the imagination. In this respect we\nfind a fundamental distinction between that whereof the plastic or\nconstructive idea is the source and all that is otherwise made vivid\nto us through other means of expression. The same truth will appear\nto us, if we analyse what we mean, by mere reading. We understand what\nthe letters mean, which are indicative points for articulate utterance,\nby the mere act of sight, and without being further obliged to listen\nto their sound. Only the illiterate reader will find it necessary to\nspeak aloud the separate words that he may understand their sense.\nBut in the case of poetry just what seems to be here the mark of\nstupidity is an indication of beauty and excellence. Poetry is not\nsatisfied with an abstract effort of apprehension, nor does it bring\nobjects before us as we find them in the form of reflection and in the\nunimaginative generalization of our memory. It helps us to approach\nthe essential notion in its positive existence, the generic as clothed\nin its specific individuality. In the view of ordinary common sense I\nunderstand by language, both in its impression on my hearing or sight,\nthe meaning in its immediacy, in other words, without receiving its\nimage before the mind. The phrases, for instance, \"the sun,\" or \"in the\nmorning,\" possess each of them no doubt a distinct sense; but neither\nthe Dawn or the Sun are themselves made present to our vision. When,\nhowever, the poet says: \"When now the dawning Eos soared heavenwards\nwith rosy fingers,\" here without question we have the concrete fact\nbrought home to us. The poetical expression adds, however, yet more,\nfor it associates with the object recognized a vision of the same,\nor we should rather say the purely abstract relation of knowledge\nvanishes, and the real definition takes its place. In the same way\ntake the phrase, \"Alexander conquered the Persian empire.\" Here, no\ndoubt, so far as content is concerned, we have a concrete conception;\nthe many-sided definition of it, however, expressed here in the word\n\"victory,\" is concentrated in a featureless and pure abstraction, which\nfails to image before us anything of the appearance and reality of the\nexploit accomplished by Alexander. This truth applies to every kind of\nsimilar expression. We recognize the bare fact; but it remains pale and\ndun, and from the point of view of individual existence undetermined\nand abstract. The poetic conception consequently embraces the fulness\nof the objective phenomenon as it essentially exists, and is able to\nelaborate the same united with the essential ideality of the fact in a\ncreative totality.\n\nWhat follows as a primary result of this is that it is of interest to\nthe imagination to _linger_ near the external characteristics of the\nfact, to the extent at least that it seeks to express the same in its\npositive reality, deems this as essentially worthy of contemplation and\ninsists on this very attitude.\n\nPoetry is consequently in its manner of expression _descriptive_\nDescription is, however, not the right word for it. We are, in fact,\naccustomed to accept as descriptive, and in contrast to the abstract\ndefinition, in which a content is otherwise brought home to our\nintelligence, much that the poet passes by, so that from the point\nof view of ordinary speech poetic composition can only appear as a\nroundabout way and a useless superfluity. The poet must, however,\nmanage to bring his imagination to bear upon the explication of the\nactual phenomenon he is attempting to depict with a vital interest.[2]\nIn this way, for instance, Homer adds a descriptive epithet to every\nhero. So Achilles is the swift-footed, the Achaeans bright-greaved,\nHector as of the glancing helm, Agamemnon the lord of peoples, and so\nforth. The name is no doubt descriptive of a personality, but the name\nalone brings nothing further to our vision. To have some distinct idea\nof this we require further attributes. We have in fact similar epithets\nattached by Homer to other objects, which are essential to our vision\nof the epic, such as sea, ships, sword and others, epithets which seize\nand place before us an essential quality of the particular object,\ndepicting it more precisely, and which enable us to apprehend the fact\nin its concrete appearance.\n\n_Secondly_, we must distinguish such reconstruction of actual facts\nfrom definition _wholly imagined_. This offers a further point of view\nfor discussion. The real image merely places before us the fact in the\nreality it possesses. The expression of the poet's imagination, on\nthe contrary, does not restrict itself to the object in its immediate\nappearance; it proceeds to depict something over and above this, by\nmeans of which the significance of the former picture is made clear\nto our mind. Metaphors, illustrations, similes become in this way\nan essential feature of poetic creation. We have thereby a kind of\nveil attached to the content, which concerns us, and which, by its\ndifference from it, serves in part as an embellishment, and in part as\na further unfolding of it, though it necessarily fails to be complete,\nfor the reason that it only applies to a specific aspect of this\ncontent. The passage in which Homer compares Ajax, on his refusing to\nfly, to an obstinate ass is an illustration. To a pre-eminent degree\noriental poetry possesses this splendour and wealth in pictorial\ncomparisons. There are two main reasons of this. First, its symbolic\npoint of view makes such a search for aspects of affinity inevitable,\nand in the universality of its centres of significance it offers a\nlarge field of concrete phenomena capable of comparison; secondly, on\naccount of the sublimity of its predominant outlook there is a tendency\nto apply the entire variety of all that is most brilliant and glorious\nin its motley show to the embellishment of the One Supreme, which is\nheld before the mind as the sole One to be exalted. This object of the\nimagination, moreover, is not to be apprehended as merely the work\nof fanciful caprice or comparison, possessing as such nothing in it\nessentially actual and present. On the contrary the transmutation of\nall particular existence into further existence in this central idea\ngrasped and clothed by the imagination is rather to be understood as\nequivalent to the assertion that there is nothing else essentially\npresent, nothing that otherwise can put forward a claim to substantive\nreality. The belief in the world as we apprehend it with the vision of\nordinary common sense is converted into a belief in the imagination,\nfor which the only world that verily exists is that which the poetic\nconsciousness has created. Conversely we have the romantic imagination,\nwhich is ready enough to express itself in metaphor, because in its\nvision what is external is for the essentially secluded life of the\nsoul only accepted as something incidental, something that is unable\nadequately to express its own reality. To reclothe this consequently\nunreal externality with profound emotion, with all the fulness of\ndetail envisioned, or with the play of humour upon the conjunction of\nsuch opposites is an impulse, which constrains and charms romantic\npoetry to ever novel discoveries. The object of importance here is\nnot so much to make the fact clear and distinct to the vision; on the\ncontrary the metaphorical employment of these outlying phenomena is\nitself the aim proposed. The emotion of the poet concentrates itself as\nthe centre, which the environment enriches with its wealth; it absorbs\nthis as part of itself, adapts it with genius and wit to its adornment,\nsteeps it in its own life, and finds in this movement to and fro, this\nelaboration and self-reflection of its creation its own source of\ndelight.\n\n(_b_) _Secondly_, we have the contrast present between the poetic mode\nof conception and that of _prose._ The thing of importance in the\nlatter case is not that which is imaged, but the significance as such\nwhich constitutes the content. It is on account of the latter that\nthe idea or image becomes a mere means to bring the content before\nthe mind. The composition of prose is therefore neither compelled to\nplace the more detailed reality of its objects before our vision, nor\nto summon before us, as is the case with the metaphorical mode of\nexpression previously described, another idea which carries us beyond\nthe immediate object to be expressed. No doubt it is also necessary in\nprose to indicate in firm and distinct outlines the positive appearance\nof objects; but this is so not on account of their figurative\ncharacter,[3] but to meet a specific and practical purpose. Generally\nspeaking we may therefore affirm _accuracy_ to be from one point of\nview the ruling principle of prose composition, and from another a\n_clear definition_ and intelligibility of statement. In contrast to\nthis the language of metaphor and imagery is in general and relatively\nless clear and more inaccurate. For in that mode of direct expression,\nsuch as we have presented by our first form of the poetic conception,\nthe fact in its simplicity is carried away from our immediate\napprehension of it as a mere object into the actual world of concrete\nfact, and we have to recognize it as a part of this, while in that\nsecond and more oblique form some phenomenon of affinity merely and\none even aloof from the essential significance of our subject is made\npresent to us. We do not, therefore, wonder that prosaic commentators\nof our poets have no easy task when they seek to separate, by means of\ntheir scientific analyses, the image from the significance, to extract\ntheir abstract content from the vital form, and thereby expound poetic\nmodes of composition to the prosaic mind.\n\nIn poetry this accuracy, this rigour in unfolding the content as we\nfind it in its simplicity, is not alone the essential principle. On the\ncontrary, though prose is forced to confine its ideas on parallel lines\nof almost mathematical precision with the nature of its content, poetry\nintroduces us to a different sphere altogether, that is, the _visible\nappearance_ of the content itself, or other natural phenomena related\nto it. For it is just this objective reality which in poetry ought to\nappear, and while unquestionably from one point of view revealing that\ncontent, yet at the same time from another it has to liberate itself\nfrom the purely abstract content, it being essentially an object of the\nart to direct attention to its actual existence in the visible world,\nand to arouse the interest of mind in the forms of life itself.\n\n(_c_) If these three essential requirements of poetry are conditioned\nby an age, in which the accuracy of the prosaic mind is become the\nordinary type of conscious life, the art, so far as its figurative\ncharacteristics are concerned, is placed in a more difficult position.\nThat is to say, in such an epoch the type of penetration exercised by\nconscious life is generally a separation of emotion and the ordinary\noutlook from scientific thought, which either converts the ideal\nand external material of feeling and perception into a stimulus of\nknowledge and volition simply, or into a plastic medium subservient\nto observation and action. In such a sphere poetry calls for energies\nof more definite purpose in order that it may free itself from the\nabstraction of the prevailing mental attitude and enter into the\nworld of concrete life. Where, however, such a goal is realized, not\nonly do we find that this breach between thinking, which makes for\ngeneralization, and perception and feeling, which grasp the particular,\nvanishes, but these last-mentioned modes of conscious life are,\ntogether with their subject-matter and content, at the same time freed\nfrom their exclusive relation of service; and the process culminates\nin a victorious reconciliation of such modes with what is essential\nuniversality. Inasmuch, however, as both the modes of poetic and\nprosaic thought and general outlook are united in one and the same\nconscious life, we find in it indications of trouble and derangement,\neven possibly an actual conflict between the two, one which, as the\npoetry of our times testifies, only genius of the highest order is able\nsuccessfully to deal with. Added to this there are other collateral\nhindrances, which I only propose to define now, and that briefly, in\ntheir relation to the figurative aspect already discussed. In other\nwords, if the prosaic intelligence takes the place of that creative\nimagination which previously obtained, then and in that case the\nrejuvenescence of the poetic faculty, both in all that is associated\nwith the positive expression of facts and what is metaphorical, readily\noffers the semblance of artificiality, which even where it falls short\nof actual purpose, is only with great difficulty reconciled with that\ndirectness of immediate truth which is demanded. Much in fact which was\nstill fresh in former times, through repeated usage, and the habits\nthus originated, has itself become gradually a custom and a part of\nprosaic life. Moreover, where poetry strives after novelties in its\ncomposition, we often find that, despite of itself, in its figurative\nexpressions and descriptions, even where it escapes the charge of\nexaggeration and an excess of such material, it none the less leaves\nan impression of artificiality, over nicety, a straining after what\nis piquant and select, work incompatible with a simple and healthy\noutlook and state of feeling. Such work tends to regard objects in an\nartificial light and reckons on mere effect. Consequently it will not\npermit their natural lighting and colour. Defects of this nature are\nstill more obvious in cases where, as a rule, the metaphorical type of\nimaginative composition is exchanged[4] for the more direct, and our\npoet is driven to outbid the forces of prose; and, in order to assert\nan originality, plunges into the subtleties of or the fishing for\neffects which have still some appearance of freshness.\n\n\n\n\n2. VERBAL EXPRESSION\n\n\nInasmuch as the poetic imagination is distinct in its operation from\nthat of all other artists in virtue of the fact that it necessarily\nclothes its images in words, and communicates the same through human\n_speech_, it becomes imperative that throughout this process it should\nendeavour to co-ordinate all its ideas, in the form which with most\ncompleteness will disclose them, through the means articulate speech\nthus places at its disposal. And, in short, we may affirm that the\npoetic content only assumes the form of poetry in its restricted sense\nafter it has been actually embodied and rounded off in the vehicle of\nwords.\n\nThis literary aspect of the art of poetry would readily supply us with\na boundless field of discursive observation and logical argument, which\nI must, however, pass over in order that I may reserve space for more\nweighty problems which lie before us. I merely propose, therefore, to\ntouch very briefly on a few fundamental points.\n\n(_a_) Human art should in all its associations place us on a ground\nquite other than that we confront in ordinary life, or indeed in\nour religious consciousness, active life, or the speculations of\nphilosophy. This is possible on the side of literary or verbal\nexpression only in so far as another mode of speech is adopted than\nthat obtaining in those other spheres. Art has therefore not only,\nfrom one point of view, to avoid that in its instrument of expression\nwhich will fail to rise above the trivialities of ordinary speech\nand ordinary prose, but it must, furthermore, avoid falling into the\ntone and manner of religious edification and philosophical research.\nAbove all it must keep aloof from the precise analyses and _methods_\nof the scientific faculty, the categories of pure thinking as we find\nthese illustrated in the logical forms of judgment and deduction.\nThese at once remove art from the imaginative realm to another region\naltogether. But in all these respects it still remains a difficult\nmatter to determine the lines of boundary on which we may actually\naffirm that poetry ends and prose begins. And in fact we may admit\nabsolute precision and confidence of statement to be impossible from\nthe nature of the case.\n\n(_b_) If we pass now to a discussion of the particular _means_ which\npoetic-speech can appropriate as instrumental to its task the following\npoints appear to me pregnant and suggestive.\n\n(_\u03b1_) _First_, we find particular _words_ and exclamations[5] that are\nobviously peculiar to poetry, whether they be used to ennoble it, or to\nintroduce the vulgarity and excess of comedy. We find a similar novelty\nin the specific collocation of various words or turns of expression. In\nsuch a field poetry is no doubt entitled on the one hand to borrow from\nan obsolete nomenclature, obsolete at least in everyday speech, and on\nthe other to declare itself as pre-eminently an innovator, moulding\nnovel modes of speech. Such a field, provided only the vital genius of\nthe language is preserved, supplies material for astonishing boldness\nof invention.\n\n(_\u03b2_) _Secondly_, we have the problem of verbal order. It is here that\nwe meet with those so-called figures of speech, in so far as, we should\nadd, the same have reference to verbal embodiment as such. The use of\nthese, however, easily degenerates into rhetoric and declamation in\nthe bad sense of these terms; the vitality of individual character\nis destroyed where we find that such forms substitute a fixed and\nartificial mode of expression for the genuine impulse of feeling or\npassion, and thereby offer the very opposite to the personal, laconic\nand broken utterance required, the utterance whose emotional depth\nis incapable of saying much, and for this reason, in romantic poetry\nespecially, is of great effect as a presentment of suppressed[6] states\nof soul. But generally speaking we may admit that the relative order\nof words is an instrument of the external form of poetry of quite\nextraordinary resource.\n\n(_\u03b3_) _Thirdly_, we have still to draw attention to the construction\nof _periods,_[7] which essentially embrace all the other aspects\nof composition and which, by means of either their simple or more\ninvolved course, their restless dislocations and distortions, or their\nquick onward motion, their acceleration and their flood contribute so\nmaterially to the reflection of such soul experience. And, in short, it\nis essential that the external presentment in speech should mirror and\nassume a character similar to the ideality of such experience in all\nits variety.\n\n(_c_) In the _application_ of the means of speech above considered it\nwill be useful to distinguish once more the several stages of poetic\nthought to which they correspond and to which we drew attention when we\nconsidered the nature of poetic conception or composition.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Poetic diction can, in the first instance, appear with real\nvitality among a people and at an epoch when the general speech is not\nas yet perfected, but in fact only by virtue of its poetry receives\nits real development. At such a time the utterance of the poet, as\ngenerally expressive of soul-life, is from the first a real novelty,\nwhich stirs admiration on its own account by revealing in its speech\nwhat remained previously unveiled. This new creation appears as the\nmarvel of a gift and personal power. The weight of custom has not as\nyet fallen upon it. It enables that which is buried in the depths of\nthe human heart for the first time to freely unfold itself before the\namazement of men. Under such conditions it is the native force of\nthe expression, the creation of the fact of speech, not so much the\nvaried and craftful elaboration of the same, which is the main point.\nDiction here remains exceedingly simple. In such early times it is\nindeed impossible that we should have either much fluency of idea or\nany varied versatility of expression. The subject-matter of such poetry\nis depicted with an artless directness, which has not yet attained the\ndelicate nuances, transitions, mediatory matter and other advantages of\na later artistic culture. In such an age the poet is in fact the first\nperson to give an utterance to the national voice, to express ideas in\nspeech, and thereby to encourage the imagination itself. Speech is,\nif we may so express it, not yet inseparable from ordinary life, and\npoetry can still freely, with an effect of freshness, avail itself\nof all that in later times, as the speech of common life, gradually\nis severed from art. In this respect, for example, Homer's type of\nexpression is to the modern man barely distinguishable from ordinary\nspeech. For every idea we have the direct word[8]; metaphorical\nexpressions are comparatively rare; and although the poem is composed\nwith a close attention to detail, the speech itself remains very simple\nindeed. In a similar way Dante was able to create for his own nation\na vital form of poetic expression, and asserted in this, as in other\nrespects, the dauntless energy of his creative genius.\n\n(_\u03b2_) When, however--this is a _further_ point--the circle of ideas\nenlarges with the appearance of methodical modes of thought the ways\nin which idea is associated with idea increase, and in this very\nprocess the ability to use it increases also, and the expression of\nspeech is elaborated in all the fluency of which it is capable. When\nthis is so the position of poetry on the side of verbal expression is\nwholly changed. In other words, we have now a nation possessing the\nfully developed prose speech of everyday life, and poetic expression\nmust now, in order to retain its interest, swerve aside from ordinary\nparlance, and receive a resurrection under the re-moulding energy of\ngenius.[9] In our daily life the contingency of the moment is the\nmotive of speech. In the creation of a work of art, however, we must\nhave deliberate circumspection[10] in the place of instantaneous\nfeeling; even the spirit of enthusiasm must be judiciously restrained.\nThe creation of genius should be permitted to unfold itself from the\nartistic repose,[11] and become informed under the prevailing temper\nof an intelligence[12] that surveys the whole with clarity. In former\ntimes this spirit of concentration and tranquillity is to be inferred\nfrom the fact and utterance of poetry itself. In a more recent age, on\nthe contrary, the nature of the composition and execution has itself to\nenforce the distinction which obtains between the expression of poetry\nand prose. In this respect poems which belong to epochs in which we\nfind already an elaborated prose diction differ essentially from those\nof times and peoples in which the art originates.\n\nThe executive talent of a poet can be carried so far in this direction\nthat the elaboration of formal expression becomes the main thing, and\nthe aim is less directed to ideal truth than to formal construction, a\npolished elegance and mere effect of the composition under its literary\naspect. We have then a situation, in which, as already observed,\nrhetoric and declamation are elaborated in a manner destructive to the\nideal vitality of the poetic spirit. The formative intelligence asserts\nitself under the principle of _purposiveness_, and a selfconsciously\nregulated art disturbs that more genuine effect, which ought to present\nthe appearance of ingenuous openness and simplicity. Entire nations\nhave, with the rarest exceptions, failed to produce any type of poetic\ncreation other than this rhetorical one. The Latin language, even in\nCicero, still preserves a genuine ring of na\u00efvet\u00e9 and naturalness.\nWith the Latin poets, however, such as Virgil, Horace and the rest,\nwe already feel that Art is to a real extent nothing but artifice,\nelaboration of effect on its own account. We recognize a prosaic\ncontent, which is merely set off with an external embellishment. We\nfind a poet who, in the absence of original genius, endeavours to\ndiscover, in the sphere of literary versatility and rhetoric effects,\nsome compensation for that which in genuine power and effect of\ncreation and composition he fails to possess. France too, in the\nso-called classical period of its literature, has produced poetry\nvery similar, a poetical style to which didactic poems and satires\nare singularly appropriate. Rhetorical figures of speech in all their\nvariety are here in their rightful place. The exposition remains for\nall that, as a whole, prosaic; and the literary expression is at its\nbest rich in image and embellishment, much in the style of Herder's\nor Schiller's diction. These last-mentioned writers, however, availed\nthemselves of this style of literary expression mainly in the interests\nof prose composition; and by the weightiness of their reflections and\nthe happy use of such a style knew how to win both a critical assent\nand a hearty approval. The Spanish poets also are not wholly free from\nthe ostentation inseparable from the too self-conscious diction of\nart. And, as a general rule, Southern nations, such as the Spaniards\nand the Italians, and previously to them the Mohammedan Arabs and\nPersians, are conspicuous for a wealth and tedious prolixity of image\nand simile. With the ancients, more especially in the case of Homer,\nthe flow of expression is characterized by smoothness and tranquillity.\nWith the nations above mentioned, on the contrary, we have a vision\nof life gushing forth[13] in a flood which, even where the emotions\nare in other respects at rest, is ever intent upon expatiation, and\nowing to this expressly volitional effort of the will is dominated by\nan intelligence which at one time is visible in abrupt parentheses, at\nanother in subtle generalization, at another in the playful conjunction\nof its sallies of wit and humour.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Genuine poetic expression in short is as far removed from all\nrhetorical declamation as above described as it is from all ostentation\nand witty conceits of diction, in so far at least as such defects do\ninjury to the ideal truth of Nature, and the claims of the content are\nforgotten in the verbal form and expression of the composition. It is,\nhowever, possible, despite of this, that the author's free enjoyment\nin his work declare itself with real beauty. In a word that aspect of\nthe composition we define as formal diction ought not to be treated on\nits own and independent account alone, or as an aspect of first and\neven exclusive importance. And, generally speaking, in this analysis of\nthe composition of poetry under its formative aspect, we repeat that\nwhat is the product of careful thought must not lose the appearance of\ngenuine spontaneity: everything should impress us as though it had of\nitself blossomed from the ideal germ or heart of the subject-matter.\n\n\n\n\n3. VERSIFICATION\n\n\nOur _third_ and final aspect of poetic expression is necessitated\nby the fact that the imagination of the poet does not merely invest\nideas in words, but does so in the form of the uttered speech; and by\ndoing so he consequently enters the domain wherein our senses are made\naware of the actual sounds and music of speech. We are thus introduced\nto versification. Versified prose may give us verses, but that is\nnot necessarily poetry. We have a parallel case in the merely poetic\nexpression of a composition in other respects prosaic with its result\nof poetic prose simply. Yet for all that metre or rhyme is an essential\ndemand of poetry, bringing, as it were, a perfume of its own to the\nsenses; nay, it is even more essential than a richly imaginative and\nso-called beautiful diction.\n\nAnd in truth the artistic elaboration of this sensuous medium[14]\nunfolds to us--it is the very demand of the art itself--another realm,\nanother field, which we only really enter after having left behind us\nthe prose of ordinary life, whether viewed as action or as literary\ncomposition. The poet is thereby compelled to move in a literary\natmosphere outside the boundary of everyday speech, and to shape his\ncompositions with an exclusive regard to the rules and requirements of\nArt. It is therefore only a superficial theory which would banish all\nversification on the ground that it contradicts natural expression.\nIt is true that Lessing, in his hostility to the false pathos of the\nFrench Alexandrine metre, attempted, more particularly in tragedy, to\nintroduce a form of prose speech as most appropriate. Both Schiller and\nGoethe have, in the more stormy works of their youth, and under the\nnatural impulse of compositions carrying a greater surfeit of content,\nadopted the same principle. But Lessing himself, in his Nathan,\nfinally returns once more to the iambic. And in the same way with his\nDon Carlos Schiller deserted the old path. Goethe too was so little\nsatisfied with the earlier prosaic treatment of his Iphigeneia and\nTasso, that he transferred them to art's more proper domain, remoulding\nthem both from the point of view of expression and prosody in that\npurer form, wherein these compositions continue and will continue to\nexcite our admiration.\n\nNo doubt the artificiality of the verse measure or the recurrent echoes\nof rhyme has the appearance of an unyielding[15] bond between spiritual\nideas and the sensuous medium, more rigorous indeed than colour in\npainting. External objects and the human form are coloured in Nature,\nand the colourless is an arbitrary abstraction. The idea, on the\ncontrary, in association with the sounds of human speech, which are\nemployed in the wholly capricious symbols of their utterance, possess\nonly a distant or no ideal thread of connection at all. This being so,\nthe exacting demand of the prosodical rules will very readily appear\nas a fetter to the imagination, in virtue of which it is no longer\npossible for the poet to communicate his ideas in the precise form\nin which they float upon his phantasy. The inference is natural that\nalthough the stream of rhythm and the music of rhyme exercises upon us\nas an unquestionable fascination, it is nevertheless not unfrequently\nand too much so the demand of this very charm to our senses that the\nfinest poetic feeling and idea should be sacrificed. But the objection\nfor all that will not hold water. In other words it is not true that\nversification is simply an obstruction to spontaneous movement. A\ngenuine artistic talent throughout moves in its sensuous material as in\nits native element, which so far from being oppressive or a hindrance\nacts as a stimulus and a support. And in fact we find that all really\ngreat poets move with freedom and confidence in the measure, rhythm or\nrhyme they have created; and it is only when they are translated that\nour artistic sense is frequently pained or shocked at the attempt to\nretrace their rhythm and melody. Moreover it is part of the liberality\nof the art that the very circumstances of the restraint, involving\nmuch change, concentration or expansion of the ideas expressed, should\nsuggest to our poet new thoughts, incidents and creations, which, apart\nfrom such difficulties, had never crossed his mind. But in truth quite\napart from this relative advantage this sensuous and determinate form\nof being--in the case of poetry the melodious chain of words--is once\nfor all essential to art. It is absolutely necessary that the result\nshould not remain in the formless and undefined stream that we have\nin the immediate contingency of ordinary conversation. It must appear\nin the vital design and elaboration of art. And although this form\nno doubt in the music of poetry may sound too as a purely external\ninstrument, it has nevertheless to be treated as an end on its own\naccount, and as such as an essentially harmonious self-defined whole.\nThis attention, which is due to the medium of sense, contributes,\nas in Art universally, and in the interest of seriousness,[16] yet\nanother point of view where we find this very austerity vanishes; both\npoet and listener feel it no more. They are lifted into a region of\nexhilarating charm and grace.\n\nIn painting and sculpture the artist is given the form in its material\nand spatial limitations for the portrayal and colouring of human limbs,\nrocks, trees, clouds and flowers. In architecture also the requirements\nand objects of the buildings proposed dictate more or less the defined\nshape given to walls, towers and roofs. In the same-way music already\npossesses stable definition in the fundamental laws of harmony. In the\nart of poetry, however, the sound of language to our aural sense is,\nin the first instance, unbridled;[17] the poet has consequently to\nregulate such absence of rule within objective limits, and to outline\na more stable conture, a more definite framework of sound for his\nconceptions, their structure and their objective beauty.\n\nJust as in musical declamation the rhythm and melody should accept and\nadapt itself to the nature of the content, versification is also a\nkind of music, which, at its own distance, is capable of essentially\nre-echoing the mysterious, but none the less definite, course and\ncharacter of the ideas. Agreeably with this the verse-measure ought to\nreflect the general tone and, as it were, the spiritual perfume of an\nentire poem, and it is by no means a question of no consequence whether\nthe external form is one of iambics, trochaics, stanzas, alcaics or any\nother metre.\n\nIn the heads of discussion we propose to follow of most importance are\n_two_ systems, whose distinction from each other we shall endeavour\nto explain. The _first_ is _rhythmical_ versification, which depends\nupon the actual length or shortness of the verbal syllables, whether we\nregard such in the association of varied figures of speech, or under\nthe relation of their time-movement.\n\nThe _second_ is that which is responsible for _tonal quality_ as such,\nnot merely in the case of isolated letters, consonants or vowels,\nbut also in that of entire syllables and words, the configuration of\nwhich is in part regulated by the laws of the uniform repetition\nof identical or similar sounds, and in part by those of symmetrical\nchange. It is to this system that we refer the alliteration, assonance\nand rhyme.\n\nBoth systems stand in intimate connection with the prosody of speech.\nThis is so whether such systems are rather based throughout on the\nactual length or shortness of syllables, or on the accent which the\nmind requires,[18] as attached to the obvious importance of such\nsyllables.\n\nAnd, _finally_, we have also to _unite_ together this general\nrhythmical movement with the music of the independent formal structure\nas rhyme.[19] And in this effort, inasmuch as the repeated echo of the\nrhyme strikes the ear with a marked emphasis, which asserts itself\npredominantly over the purely temporal condition of duration and\nadvance, the rhythmical aspect will, in such a conjunction, tend to\nfall back, and arrest our attention with less force.\n\n(_a_) _Rhythmical Versification._\n\nIn discussing the rhythmical system which is without rhyme the\nfollowing points are of the most importance:\n\n_First_, we have the firm and fast time-measure of syllables in their\nplain distinction of _long_ and _shorty_ as well as their manifold\nassociation with definite conditions and metres of poetry.\n\n_Secondly_, we have the animation of rhythm in accent, caesura and\nopposition between the verse accent and that of separate words.\n\n_Thirdly_, there is the aspect of _euphonious sounds_ which, within\nthis movement, is forthcoming from the sound of the words, without any\nfurther concentration in rhyme.\n\n(_a_) For that rhythmical movement which the _time duration_ and the\nmovement itself makes of first importance rather than the melodic sound\nas such and singled in its isolated effect, (_\u03b1\u03b1_) we find our starting\npoint in the _natural_ length and shortness of syllables to the obvious\ndistinctions of which the sound of the actual words, the expression\nof their letters, in consonants and vowels, contribute the essential\nbasis.\n\nPre-eminently long by nature are the diphthongs ai, oi, ae, and the\nrest, for the reason that essentially--whatever our modern schoolmaster\nmay say to the contrary--they are themselves a twofold, concrete tone,\nwhich combines, much as green does among the colours. The long-sounding\nvowels are equally so. As a third principle, which obtains already\nin Sanscrit, no less than the Greek and Latin languages, we have\nassociated with them peculiar conditions of position. In other words,\nif two or more consonants are placed between two vowels the relation\nconstitutes what is unquestionably a difficult transition in speech.\nThe organ of articulate utterance requires a longer period to pass\nover the consonants; this necessitates a pause which, despite of the\npresence of the short vowel, makes the syllable sound in its rhythm\nlong, though it is not actually lengthened. If I speak the words\nfor example_--mentem nec secus_--the movement from the one vowel to\nthe other in _mentem_ and _nec_ is neither as simple or easy as in\n_secus_. More modern languages do not retain this last distinction with\nsuch stringency, but rather give effect, in the matter of long and\nshort accent, to other criteria. But for all that syllables which are\ntreated as short, despite of the position referred to, at least will\nnot unfrequently create a harsh impression, because they obstruct the\nquicker movement our ear demands.\n\nIn contradistinction to the long quantity we have in diphthongs, long\nvowels and length created by position, we have the vowels which are by\nnature _short_, that is, those which are short, or which are not placed\nin words, where one of them and another immediately following are\nseparated by two or more consonants.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) For the reason, then, that words, partly on their own account,\nas of several syllables, include a number of long and short beats, and\nin part, although of one syllable, are nevertheless associated with\nother words, we have thereby to start with a definite, but accidental\ninterchange of various syllables and words without any stable\nmeasure. To regulate this accidental relation is just the function\nof poetry, precisely as it was that of music to define with accuracy\nthe unregulated duration of particular tones by means of the unity\nof time-measure. Poetry therefore establishes specific combinations\nof long and short syllables as the law, by virtue of which, under the\naspect of _time-duration,_ it has to arrange the series of syllables.\nWhat we therefore get in the first instance are the different\nsuccessions of time. The simplest is the mutual relation of pure\nequality, as, for example, we find it in the dactyl and anapaest, in\nwhich the two short syllables may coalesce according to definite rule\nin two long syllables (the spondee). Secondly, a long syllable may be\nplaced next one short; in that case we have a profounder distinction of\nderivation, though under its simplest form. Such are the iambus and the\ntrochee. We find a more complicated combination, when a short syllable\nis interposed between two long ones, or one short precedes two long, as\nin the cretic and bacchius.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Such _isolated_ time-relations would, however, open the door\nto unregulated contingency if they were permitted to follow one\nanother anyhow in their motley differences. In fact the entire aim\nof such regulation would vanish under such conditions, in other\nwords the regulated series of long and short syllables. From another\npoint of view we should wholly fail to secure a definite beginning,\nconclusion, and central position, so that the caprice which here\nonce again asserted itself would entirely contradict that which we\npreviously established, when considering musical time-measure and\nbeat, as to the relation in which the percipient ego stood to the\nduration of tones. In other words, the ego requires a combination on\nits own account,[20] a return out of the continuous forward movement\nin time; and only seizes on the same in virtue of definite unities of\ntime and their, as such, emphasized commencement,[21] regulated in\ntheir entire series and terminations. This is the reason why, in the\n_third_ place, poetry also sets out the particular time-relations in a\nseries of _verse-lines,_[22] which in respect to the type and number\nof their feet, no less than in that of their commencement, progress,\nand conclusion, are subject to rule. The iambic trimeter, for instance,\nconsists of six iambic feet, of which any two constitute an iambic\ndipody. The hexameter consists of six dactyls, which again, in certain\npositions, may coalesce in spondees.\n\nMoreover, as it is no objection to such lines of verse-writing that\nthey are repeated over and over again in the same or practically\nunder the same mode, we find in respect to the entire series, on the\none hand, a lack of definition so far as the one final conclusion is\nconcerned, and on the other a monotony, which creates perceptibly a\nsense of deficiency in the ideal aspect of their manifold composition.\nIn order to mitigate such defects poetry makes a final advance in its\ncreation of the strophe and its varied organization, more particularly\nwith a view to lyric expression. As an illustration we have the elegiac\nmeasure of the Greeks; there is also the alcaic and sapphic strophe,\nnot to mention the modes of lyric art elaborated by Pindar and the\nfamous Greek dramatists in their choric effusions or interludes.\n\nHowever much, in their relation to time-measure, music and poetry\npartake of similar conditions, we ought not, therefore, to fail to\ndraw attention to their dissimilarity. The most important feature\nof this is that of the _beat._ The question whether there is any\nreal repetition measurable in time-beats of identical length in the\nmetre of the ancients has been the subject of strenuous controversy.\nGenerally speaking I think it may be affirmed that poetry, which uses\nlanguage in its words as a mere means of communication, is unable, in\nrespect to the time-length of its utterances, to subordinate the same\nto an absolutely fixed measure of its movement in the abstract form\nthat is present in the time-beat of music. In music tone is simply\nsound, without pause as such, and it essentially requires a stability\nsuch as we find in the time-beat. Human speech does not require such\nsecurity, for one reason because it already possesses something fixed\nand substantive in the idea, and for another because it is not thus\nwholly committed to the objective medium of sound or resonance; rather\nthis very ideality of conscious life is the medium in which it consists\nas art. For this reason poetry in fact discovers the more substantive\nmeans of defining its arrest, continuance, pause or delay immediately\nin the ideas and emotions which it clearly enunciates in language.\nMusic, too, in its recitatives, marks the beginning of a similar\nprocess of separation from the immutable equality of the time-beat.\nIt follows from this that, if poetical metre were wholly subjugate to\nthe regularity of the time-beat, the distinction between music and\npoetry, in this sphere at least, would vanish altogether, and the\nelement of time would receive a more predominant significance than is\ncompatible with the essential characteristics of poetry. Supported by\nsuch a conclusion we may therefore insist that, though a _time-measure_\nis of imperative value in poetry, there is no such necessity for the\nabstract _time-beat_; meaning and signification[23] of the actual words\nmust here remain the relatively speaking more controlling force. If we\nexamine in this respect more closely the particular verse-measures of\nthe ancients the hexameter will no doubt appear most nearly attached to\na forward movement compatible with the stringency of the time-beat. The\nelder Voss in fact assumed this, though, as a matter of fact, such an\nassumption is already excluded by the catalexis of the last foot. When\nin addition to this Voss proceeded to place the time-measure of the\nalcaic and sapphic strophes on a similar basis of abstract equality, we\ncan only regard such a theory as a wilful caprice which does violence\nto the poetry. The contention throughout is apparently due to the habit\nof treating our German iambic in identical lengths of syllable measure\nand time-measure. As a matter of fact the beauty of the iambic trimeter\nof the ancients consisted above all in this, that it was not composed\nof six iambic feet of identical lengths of time; but quite the contrary\nin order that, in the first position of every dipody, spondees, or, in\ntheir resolution, also dactyls and anapaests were permissible; and, by\nreason of this, the monotonous repetition of the same time-measure, and\nthereby all that is consistent with the time-beat, vanishes. We may add\nthat the possibility of change is yet more obvious in lyric strophes,\nso that if we wish to establish such a thesis at all it must be on the\n_\u00e0 priori_ principle, that the time-beat is essentially necessary. As a\ndeduction from the plain facts we see nothing of the kind.\n\n(_\u03b2_) With the introduction of the _accent_ and the _caesura_ we\nhave for the first time the animation of the time-measure; we may\nparallel with this that rhythm in music, which we have discussed as the\ntime-beat.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In short in poetry also every definite time relation has, in\nthe first instance, its particular accent; in other words, regularly\ndefined intervals are asserted, which attract others and only in this\nway are rounded off in a whole. Owing to this fact much play is given\nto the _manifold possibilities_ of the value of syllables. On the one\nhand generally long syllables appear emphasized in their contrast to\nshort, so that now, if the ictus falls upon them, their significance\nis doubled as against the shorter, and in fact stand out themselves\nas distinct from long syllables not thus accented. On the other hand,\nhowever, it may also happen that shorter syllables receive the ictus or\naccent, so that a similar emphasis is created to the one described in\nthe converse case.\n\nAbove all, as already observed, the beginning and termination of the\nparticular feet ought not with abstract precision to be identical with\nthe beginning and conclusion of single words. For, in the _first_\nplace, the reach forward[24] of the essentially exclusive word over\nthe termination of the foot of the line affects the connection of the\notherwise disparate rhythms. _Secondly_, when the verse accent falls on\nthe final sound of a word carried forward as above described, we get on\naccount of this in addition a distinct interval of time, the conclusion\nof a word having already come to a pause in something else, so that it\nis in fact this pause, which, in virtue of the accent united with it,\nis expressly made perceptible as a segment of time in the otherwise\nunbroken current. Caesuras of this sort are inevitable with every\nkind of verse. For although the distinct accent already confers on\nparticular feet a more intimate and essential distinction, and thereby\na certain variety, this sort of animation, especially in the case of\nverses, in which the same feet repeat each other without a break, as,\nfor example, in our iambic, remain for all that in a measure entirely\nabstract and monotonous, and furthermore allow the particular feet to\nfall apart without a common bond. It is this gray monotony which the\ncaesura checks, introducing a connection and more genuine animation\nwithin what was otherwise, with its undifferentiated regularity, the\nhalting flow of verse, a life which, by virtue of the various positions\nin which the caesura may assert itself, is itself as manifold as is\npossible agreeably with the condition that its regulated definition is\nheld free from any approach to lawless caprice.\n\nA _third_ accent is furthermore attached to the verse accent and\ncaesura, which the words in other respects and independently possess,\napart from their metrical employment. By this means the mode and\ndegree in which the particular syllables are emphasized or the reverse\nincreases in its variety. This verbal accent may, on the one hand,\nno doubt appear in conjunction with the accent of the verse and\nthe caesura; and, if this is the case, the strength of the accents\nrespectively is increased. But from another point of view it may stand\nindependently of them on syllables which do not receive any further\nemphasis, and which we may say, in so far as they moreover require\nan accentuation to bring out their particular significance as verbal\nsyllables, assert an effect counter to the verse rhythm, an effect\nwhich confers on the whole a novel and unique vitality.\n\nTo appreciate the beauty of rhythm in all the above aspects is for our\nmodern ears a very difficult matter, because in modern languages the\nelements which combine to produce. this kind of metrical effect are no\nlonger in some measure present in the sharp and secure insistence they\npossessed for the ancient world; rather we have other means substituted\nfor them, in order to satisfy other demands of artistic taste.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) But over and above all this, paramount over all valid claims of\nsyllables and words within their metrical position, there is, secondly,\nthe worth of that significance we gather from the line or verse as\n_poetical idea._ It is in relation to this, which the language implies,\nthat its other metrical effects are either emphasized or, comparatively\nspeaking, are restrained as void of significance; and it is by this\nmeans alone that the finest perfume of spiritual vitality is instilled\nthrough the poetry. But notwithstanding this fact, such poetical effect\nis not to be carried so far that it directly contradicts in this\nrespect the rules of metrical rhythm.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Moreover, a _definite_ type of _content_ corresponds with the\nentire character of a particular verse measure, particularly from the\npoint of view of rhythmical movement, and above all that particular\nkind implied in the movement of our feelings. Thus, for example, the\nhexameter, in the tranquil wave of its forward stream, is particularly\nadapted to the even flow of epic narration. Where, however, it\nis more in the nature of the strophe in its association with the\npentameter and its symmetrically consistent caesura, it is, in its\nnone the less generally simple regularity, fitted to express elegiac\nemotion. The iambic again moves forward with rapidity, and as such is\npeculiarly suitable to dramatic dialogue. The anapaest indicates the\nclear-slipping march of joyful exultation. Other characteristics may\nreadily be associated with other modes of verse-measure.\n\n(_\u03b3_) _Thirdly_, this province of rhythmical versification is not\nconfined to the mere configuration and vivication of time-intervals; it\nembraces the actual musical sound of syllables and words. In respect\nto such sound, however, the classic languages, in which rhythm is\nretained, as above described, as an essential feature, offer a real\ncontrast to other more recent ones more conspicuously adapted to rhyme.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In the Greek and Latin languages, for example, the stem\nsyllable is modified, by virtue of its modes of inflexion, through\nan abundance of variously toned syllables, which of course possess\nan independent meaning, but only as a modification of such syllable;\nthis consequently, it is true, asserts its force as the substantive\nsignificance of that variously expanded sound, but it does not, so\nfar as its sound is concerned, stand forth as such in pre-eminent and\nunique ascendancy. When we hear, for example, the word _amaverunt_,\nthree syllables are attached to the word, and the accent is already\nsubstantially differentiated throughout the number and extension\nof these syllables in direct relation to the stem syllable, even\nassuming no naturally long ones had been included, by which means the\n_fundamental significance_ and the emphasis of _accent_ are _separated_\nfrom each other. In such a case consequently, and in so far as the\naccentuation is not identical with the _main_ syllable, but falls on\nanother, which merely expresses an _incidental_ significance, the\near can from this basis at once listen to the sound of the different\nsyllables and follow their movement, retaining, as it does, perfect\nliberty to attend to that prosody peculiar to the word or phrase, and\nfinding itself then invited to incorporate within its rhythm these\nnaturally long and short syllables.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The case of our modern German language is wholly different.\nThat which in the Greek and Latin languages is expressed, as above\ndescribed, by means of the prefix and suffix, and other modifications,\nis in more modern languages for the most part resolved in verbs of\nthe stem syllable; the result of this is that the inflexion syllables\nthat have been in the former case unfolded in one and the same word,\nwith collateral meanings of a varied character, are now split up\nand isolated in separate words. As illustrations of this we have\nthe constant employment of many subsidiary words denoting time, the\nindependent indication of the optative by means of distinct verbs,\nthe separation of pronouns, and other examples. By such means, on the\none hand, the word --which in the previous case adduced was expanded\nin all the variety of tone which attached to its many syllables,\nunder which every accent of the root, that is the root idea, was\ncancelled--persists as a simple totality concentrated in itself,\nwithout appearing as a series of tones, which being, as they are, mere\nmodifications, do not, by virtue of their specific _sense,_ assert an\ninfluence with such a strength that the ear is unable to attend to\ntheir independent tonal quality and its temporal movement. And, on the\nother hand, on account of this concentration the main significance is\nmoreover of such a force that it attracts the fall of the accent upon\nitself exclusively; and just because the emphasis is thus fastened\nupon the fundamental sense this very coalescence does not suffer the\nquantity of the other syllables, whether long or short ones, to appear;\nthey are simply overwhelmed. The roots of the majority of words are\nunquestionably as a general rule short, compact,[25] of one or two\nsyllables. If thus, as is for instance pre-eminently the case with our\nmother tongue, these root-stems appropriate almost invariably the\naccent to themselves, such an accent is to an overwhelming degree one\nof the sense, _significance',_ not a definition, however, in which the\nmedium--that is, the utterance as sound--would be free, or could assert\nthe relation of the length, shortness, or accentuation of syllables\nindependently of the intelligible content of the words. Consequently a\nrhythmical configuration of time-movement and emphasis liberated from\nthe stem syllable and its meaning can here no longer be maintained. We\nhave merely left us, in contradistinction to the former hearing of the\nample sound and duration of such long and short beats in their varied\njuxtaposition, a general impression of sound,[26] which is apprehended.\nentirely aloof from the accented fundamental syllable with its weight\nof significance. And, indeed, apart from this, as we have seen, the\nramification of the stem into syllables as modified into particular\nwords is also an independent process. Such words receive thereby an\nindependent worth, and, while preserving their own significance, they\nmake us at the same time hear the identical coalescence of meaning\nand accent, which we have observed in the case of the stem or root\nword around which they are ranged. We are therefore forced to restrict\nour attention to the sense of every word; and, instead of being\noccupied with the natural length and shortness of syllables and their\nsensuous[27] accentuation, are only able to hear the accent asserted by\nthe main and substantive meaning.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In such modern languages the element of rhythm has little room\nfor its display, or at least the soul has little freedom left to\nexpatiate within it, because, as observed, time and the equable stream\nof syllabic sound as emitted from its movement is superseded[28] by a\nmore ideal relation--that is to say, by the sense and meaning of the\nwords, and thereby the force of the more independent configuration of\nrhythm is suppressed. We may in this connection compare the principle\nof rhythmical versification with the plastic arts. We find in both that\nthe ideal significance is not as yet asserted in its independence, nor\ndoes the former expressly define the length and accent of syllables,\nbut rather the meaning of the words is wholly blended with the sensuous\nmedium of the inherent time duration and sound, with a result that does\ncomplete justice to the claim of such externality, wholly absorbed in\nthe ideal form and movement of the same. If, however, such a principle\nis renounced, and yet despite of this, but in accordance with the\nnecessary demand of art, the sensuous medium is permitted to retain a\ncertain force of resistance as against the exclusive assertion of ideal\ncontent,[29] in order to this end to divert the ear's attention,--in\nthe case that is, where what we may call the plastic moment of that\nmore ancient mode of syllabic quantity, as it is on its own account,\nand the tonal quality inseparable from the general rhythm rather than\nindependently asserted --when this, as I say, has been destroyed, then\nwe have no other means[30] at hand save the express and artistically\nconfigurated sound of articulate speech simply, and retained as\nsuch in its isolation. And this leads us to our second main type of\nversification--in other words, _rhyme._\n\n(_b_) _Rhyme_\n\nFrom an objective standpoint it is possible to seek to explain the\nneed of a novel treatment of language from the deterioration into\nwhich the classical languages fell through their contact with foreign\nrelations. Such a development, however, lies in the nature of the\nfacts themselves. The earliest example of conformity with the ideality\nof its content attempted by poetry is to be traced in the length and\nshortness of syllables in independence from their significance, for the\nmutual relations of which, caesurae and so forth, art elaborates its\nrules, rules which it is true generally coincide with the character\nof the content in its broad outlines, but which none the less, in\nmatters of individual detail, do not suffer either the length or\nshortness of a syllable, nor its accent, to depend exclusively on the\nintelligible significance making such a formal aspect subordinate,\nto the point of entire detachment, to the same.[31] The more ideal,\nhowever, and spiritual the represented idea becomes, the more it tends\nto detach itself from this objective aspect, which increasingly fails\nto present such ideality in plastic guise, and finally reaches a point\nof self-concentration in which the, so to speak, corporeal element\nof speech is in a measure wholly wiped away, and for the rest merely\nasserts that wherein the intelligible significance is reposed as\nnecessary to its communication; all else is only admitted, by way of\nby-play, as insignificant. Now romantic art, in respect to the entire\ntype of its conception and presentation, effects a similar passage\nover to this concentrated synthesis of ideality, when it sets out in\nsearch for the material which corresponds to this subjective content\nin audible sound.[32] Following these lines romantic poetry also,\ninasmuch as it generally lays most stress on the ideal tones[33] of\nfeeling, becomes absorbed in its preoccupation[34] with the distinct\nand independent ring and tones of letters, syllables, and words;\nperfecting such a process to its final satisfaction, as it learns,\neither in their association with ideality, or in their connection with\nthe architectonically intelligible penetration[35] of such music,\nto separate such syllabic and other verbal sounds or to relate or\ninterlace them one with another. From this point of view we may affirm\nthat it is not simply by way of accident that rhyme is elaborated in\nromantic poetry. It is a necessary feature of it. The requirement of\nsoul-life, to discover itself again, is thereby more fully asserted,\nand finds a real source of satisfaction in the identity of the rhyme,\nwhich declares an indifference[36] to the unyielding laws of the\ntime-measure, and, by virtue of its recurrence of similar sounds, gives\nexclusive effect to an effort which conducts the conscious self back\nto itself. It is by this means that versification is made to approach\nmore closely the musical art as such, that is, the vivid tones of\nsoul-life itself, and is, from this point of view, liberated from the,\nrelatively speaking, gross material of human speech, in other words\nfrom what we have referred to as the natural measure of quantity.\n\nWith regard to points of special interest in this subject, I will\nconfine myself to the following general observations:\n\n_First_, upon the origin of rhyme.\n\n_Secondly_, upon a few more definite features by which we may\ndistinguish the sphere of rhyme from that of rhythm in verse.\n\n_Thirdly_, upon the types under which we may classify rhyme generally.\n\n(_\u03b1_) We have already seen that rhyme belongs in its form to the art\nof romantic poetry, which requires such a more pronounced emphasis of\nits configurated syllabic sound posited thus on its own account. And it\nis thus effected to the extent that the ideal activity of volition[37]\ndiscovers its own presence by this means in the objective medium\nof tone. Where such a need is asserted we have a mode of speech in\npart meeting absolutely the conditions of form I outlined above when\ndiscussing the necessity of rhyme; and in addition it makes use of the\nold forms of language at hand, the Latin for example, which, though of\nother constitution and mainly applicable to rhythmical versification,\nit employs agreeably to the character of the new principle, or\nreconstructs the same so far into a new language that the element of\nrhythm disappears, and rhyme becomes, as in the Italian and French\nlanguages, the matter of all importance.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In this respect we find throughout Christendom that rhyme is\nintroduced into Latin versification at a very early date with much\ninsistence, although, as observed, it rested on other principles.\nThese principles, however, are rather adapted from the Greek language;\nand, so far from testifying to the fact that they originated from the\nLatin speech itself, rather prove, under the modified character they\npossess, a tendency which itself approaches the romantic type. In\nother words, the poetry of Rome, on the one hand and in its earliest\ndays, discovered its source not in the natural length and shortness of\nsyllables, but rather measured the value of syllables relatively to\ntheir accent; and in consequence of this it was only through a more\naccurate knowledge and imitation of Greek poetry that the prosodical\nprinciple of this was received and followed. And, moreover, the Romans\nrendered more obdurate the flexible, joyous sensuousness of Greek\nmetres, more particularly by their use of more insistent pauses at the\ncaesura, as we find such not only in the hexameter, but also in the\nalcaic and sapphic metres, hardening the effect thus to a structure of\nmore stringent outline and more severe regularity. And indeed, apart\nfrom this, even in the full bloom of Latin literature, and from their\npoets of finest culture, we have already plenty of rhymes. Thus from\nHorace, in his _Ars poetica_ (verses 99-100), we get the following:\n\n\n    Non satis est, pulchra esse poemata: dulcia _sunto,_\n    Et quocunque volent, animum auditoris _agunto._\n\n\nThough the poet was probably quite unconscious of the fact, it is\nnone the less a strange coincidence that, in the very passage in\nwhich Horace enforces the obligation that poems should be _dulcia_,\nwe discover a rhyme. Similar rhymes occur in Ovid with still more\nfrequency. Even assuming such to be accidental, the fact remains\nthat they appear to have been not offensive to Roman ears, and might\nconsequently be permitted, although as isolated exceptions, to slip\ninto the composition. Yet the profounder significance of romantic\nrhyme is absent from such playful exceptions. The former does not\nassert the recurrent sound merely as sound, but the ideal content or\nmeaning implied in it. And it is precisely this which constitutes the\nfundamental difference between modern rhyme and the very ancient rhyme\nof the Hindoos.\n\nAs for the classical languages, it was after the invasion of barbarism,\nand on account of the destruction of accentuation and the assertion of\nthat uniquely personal note of emotion referable to Christianity, that\nthe rhythmical system of verse passed into that of rhyme. Thus, in his\nhymn to the Holy Spirit, Ambrosius entirely regulates the versification\naccording to the accent of the meaning expressed, and breaks into\nrhyme. The first work of St. Augustine against the Donatists is in the\nsame way a rhymed song; and also the so-called Leonine versicles, as\nexpressly rhymed hexameters and pentameters, are easily distinguishable\nfrom the accidental exceptions of rhyme previously noticed. These and\nother examples like them mark the point of departure of rhyme from the\nmore ancient rhythmical system.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Certain writers have no doubt attempted to trace the origin\nof the new principle of versification in _Arabian_ literature. The\nartistic education, however, of the famous poets of the East is of\nlater date than the appearance of rhyme in western Christendom; and any\nMohammedan art of a more early time exercised no real influence on the\nWest. We should, however, add that we find from the first in Arabian\npoetry essential affinities with the romantic principle, in which the\nknights of Europe, at the time of the crusades, very readily made\nthemselves at home; and consequently it is not difficult to understand\nhow, in the affinity of spiritual tendencies[38] which they shared,\nand in which the poetry of Eastern Mohammedanism no less than Western\nChristianity finds its source, though removed in the world from each\nother, we meet for the first time and on its own independent footing a\nnovel type of verse writing.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) A _third_ source, to which again, independently of either\nthe influence of the classic languages or the Arabic, we may trace\nthe origins of rhyme and all that it implies, are the _Germanic_\nlanguages, as we find them in their earliest Scandinavian development.\nAs illustration of this we have the songs of the ancient Edda, which,\nthough only in more recent times, collected and edited, unquestionably\ndate from a former age. In these, as we shall see later on, it is\nnot, it is true, the genuine rhyme-sound which is elaborated in its\nperfection, but rather an effective emphasis upon particular sounds of\nlanguage, and a regularity defined by rule, with a definite repetition\nof both aspects.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Yet more important than the question of origin is the\ncharacteristic _difference_ between the new system and the old. I have\nalready adverted to the fundamental feature of importance here; it only\nremains to establish it more narrowly.\n\nRhythmical versification attained its most beautiful and richest\ndevelopment in the field of Hellenic poetry, in which we may discover\nthe most eminent features of the type wherever it obtains. Briefly they\nare as follows:\n\n_First_, the sound, as such, of letters, syllables, or words does\nnot here constitute its material, but rather the syllabic sound in\nits _temporal duration_, so that attention must neither exclusively\nbe directed to particular syllables or words, nor to the purely\nqualitative similarity or identity of their sound. On the contrary, the\nsound still remains in inseparable union with the static time-measure\nof its specific duration; and in the forward movement of both the ear\nhas to follow the value of every separate syllable no less than the\nprinciple which obtains in the rhythmical progression of all equally\ntogether. _Secondly_, the measure of long and short syllables, no less\nthan that of rhythmical rise and fall, and varied animation derived\nfrom more deliberate caesurae and moments of pause, depends upon the\n_natural_ element of the language, without permitting any introduction\nof that type of accentuation, by virtue of which the actual _meaning_\nof the word leaves its impress on a syllable or a word. The\nversification asserts itself in its collocation of feet, its verse\naccent, its caesurae, and so forth in this respect as fully independent\nas the language itself, which also, outside the domain of poetry,\nalready accepts accentuation from the natural quantity of syllables\nand their relations of juxtaposition, and not from the significance of\nthe root-syllable. On this account, _thirdly_, we have as the vital\nemphasis of certain syllables, first, the verse accent and rhythm,\nand, secondly, all other accentuation, both of which aspects, in their\ntwofold contribution to the varied character of the whole, pass in and\nout of one another without any mutual derangement or suppression; and\nin like manner respectively they satisfy the claim of the poetical\nimagination in fully admitting the expressiveness due, by virtue of the\nnature of their position and movement, to words which, in respect to\ntheir intelligible meaning, are of a greater importance than others.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The first alteration, then, effected by rhymed verse in\nthe previous system is this indisputable validity of _natural\nquantity_,[39] If, therefore, any time-measure at all is permitted to\nremain, it is compelled to seek for a basis for such quantitative pause\nor acceleration, which it refuses any longer to find in the natural\nquantity, of syllables, in some other province. And this, as we have\nseen, can be no other than the intrinsic meaning of syllables and\nwords. It is this _significance_ which in the final instance determines\nthe quantitative measure of syllables, so long as such is still\nregarded as essential at all, and by doing so transfers the criterium\nfrom the purely objective medium[40] and its natural structure to the\nideal subject-matter.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) A further result follows from this of yet more importance. As\nI have already pointed out, this collocation of the emphasis on the\nsignificant stem-syllable dissipates that other independent diffusion\nof it in manifold forms of inflexion, which our rhythmical system\nis not yet forced to treat as negligible, in contrast to the stem,\nbecause it deduces neither the natural quantity of syllables nor the\naccent which it asserts from the intelligible significance. In the\ncase, however, where such an explication,[41] with its co-ordination\nin verse-feet according to the quantity of syllables in their natural\nstability, falls away the entire system therewith necessarily\ncollapses, which reposes on the time-measure and its laws. Of this\ntype, for example, is French and Italian poetry, the metre and rhythm\nof which are absolutely non-existent as understood by the ancients. The\nentire question is here merely one of a definite number of syllables.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) For such a loss there is only one possible compensation--that\nof _rhyme._ In other words, if--this is one aspect--it is no longer\ntime-duration which receives objective expression, by means of which\nthe sound of syllables flows on freely in the even movement that\nintrinsically belongs to them; if, furthermore, the intelligible\nsignificance dominates over the stem-syllables, and coalesces with\nthe same without further organic expatiation into a determinate\nunity, we have no sensuous medium, such as is able to maintain itself\nindependently of the time-measure, no less than this accentuation of\nthe stem-syllables, finally left to us other than just this syllabic\nsound.\n\nSuch a sound, however, if it is to secure an independent attention,\nmust, in the _first_ place, be of a far more insistent kind than the\ninterchange of different tones, such as we met with in the older verse\nmetres; and its assertion must be of a far more overwhelming character\nthan the stress of syllables can lay claim to in ordinary speech.\nWhat we now require has not only to compensate us for the loss of the\narticulate time-measure, but it further undertakes to reassert the\nsensuous medium in its opposition to that unqualified predominance of\nthe accentuated significance. For when once the conceptive content\nhas essentially attained the ideality and penetration of mind,[42]\nfor which the sensuous aspect of speech is of no importance, the\nverbal sound must enforce itself still more positively and coarsely as\ndistinct from this ideality in order to arrest our attention at all.\nIn contrast, therefore, to the gentle movements of rhythmical euphony,\nrhyme is a crude expedient,[43] which requires an ear by no means\neither so trained or sensitive as that presupposed by Greek verse.\n_Secondly,_ though it is true that rhyme does not here assert itself\nso much as distinct from the meaning of the stem-syllables simply as\nit does from the entire ideal content, yet it does at the same time\nso far assist the natural verbal sound as to win for it a relatively\nsecure stability. But this object can only be attained if the\nsound[44] of particular words affirms itself in exclusive distinction\nfrom the resonance of other words, and thus secures an independent\nexistence, by virtue of which _isolation_ it satisfies the claims of\nthe formative aspect of the verbal medium in forceful beats of sound.\nRhyme is therefore, at least in its contrast to the evenly transfused\nmovement of rhythmic euphony, a detached exhibition of exclusive\ntonal expression. _Thirdly,_ we found that it was the ideality of\nthe conscious self which, by virtue of its effort of ideal synthesis,\ncame into its own, and discovered its personal satisfaction in such\nrecurrences of sound. If, then, the means used in the older type of\nversification, with its copious variety of structure, disappear, there\nonly remains, if we look at poetry, under the aspect of its _medium,_\nto support this principle of self-recovery, the more formal repetition\nof wholly identical or similar sounds, whereby again we are able to\nunite under an intelligible scheme[45] the assertion and relation of\nclosely associated meanings in the rhyme-sounds of expressive words.\nThe metre of rhythmical verse we may regard as a variously articulate\ninterrelation of manifold syllabic quantities. Rhyme, on the contrary,\nis from one point of view more material;[46] yet, on the other hand,\nis itself more abstractly placed within this medium. In other words,\nit is the mere recollection of mind and the ear of the recurrence of\nidentical or related sounds and significations--a recurrence in which\nthe poet is conscious of his own activity, recognizes, and is pleased\nto recognize, himself therein as both agent and participant.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Finally, on the question of the particular _types_ under which we\nmay classify this more modern system of romantic poetry, I only propose\nto advert briefly to what appears to me of most importance in respect\nto alliteration, assonance, and ordinary rhyme.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The first, or at least the most thorough, example of\n_alliteration_ is that we find elaborated in the earliest Scandinavian\npoetry, where it supplies the fundamental basis, whereas assonance\nand the terminal rhyme, albeit these two aspects play a by no means\nunimportant part, are, however, only present in certain particular\nkinds of such poetry. The principle of alliterative rhyme, letter\nrhyme, is rhyme in its most incomplete form, because it does not\nrequire the recurrence of the entire syllable, but only that of one\nidentical letter, and primarily the initial letter only. Owing to\nthe weakness of this type of recurrent sound it is, in the first\nplace, therefore necessary that only such words should be used in\nits service, which already independently possess an express accent on\ntheir first syllable; and, secondly, these words must not be remote\nfrom one another, if the identity of their commencement is to make a\nreal impression on the ear. For the rest, alliterative letters may be a\nvowel, no less than a double or single consonant; but it is primarily\nconsonants which are of most importance in the scheme. Based on such\nconditions, we find in Icelandic poetry[47] the fundamental rule that\nall alliterative rhymes require accentuated[48] syllables, whose\ninitial letters must not in the same lines occur in other substantives\nwhich have the accent on the first syllable; and, along with this, of\nthe three words, the initial letters of which constitute the rhyme,\ntwo must be found in the first line, and the third, which supplies the\ndominant alliteration, must be placed at the commencement of the second\nline. We may add further that, in virtue of the abstract character\nof this identical sound of initial letters, words are generally made\nalliterative proportionally to the importance of their signification.\nWe find, therefore, that here, too, the relation of accented sound to\nthe meaning of words is not entirely absent. I cannot, however, pursue\nthis subject into more detail.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) _Secondly_, _assonance_ has nothing to do with initial letters,\nbut makes a nearer approach to rhyme in so far as it is a recurrence\nin identical sound of the same letters in the middle or at the\ntermination of different words. It is not necessary, of course, that\nthese assonant words should in all cases come at the conclusion of\na line; they may fall into other places. Mainly, however, it is the\nconcluding syllables of lines which come into this mutual relation of\nassonance, as contrasted with alliteration which is effective rather at\nthe line's commencement. In its richest elaboration we may associate\nthis assonance of language with the Romance nations, more especially\nthe Spanish, whose full-toned language is peculiarly adapted to this\nrecurrence of the same vowels. As a rule, no doubt assonance is here\nrestricted to vowels. But the language further permits of other variety\nof assonance, not only that of vowels, but also that of identical\nconsonants and consonants in association with one vowel.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) That which, as above described, alliteration and assonance are\nonly able to establish with incompleteness is abundantly fulfilled by\n_rhyme._ In it, and expressly to the exclusion of initial letters, we\nhave asserted the wholly equable sound of entire verb stems,[49] which\nare, by virtue of this equability, brought into an express relation\nwith their tonal utterance. We have no mere question now of the number\nof the syllables. Words of one syllable, no less than others of two or\nmore, may be rhymed. By this means we not only get the masculine rhyme,\nwhich is restricted to words of one syllable, but also the feminine\nrhyme, which embraces words of two syllables, as also the so-called\ngliding rhyme, which reaches to three or even more syllables. It is\nin particular the languages of Northern Europe which incline to the\nfirst type, Southern languages to the second, such as the Italian and\nSpanish. The German and French languages would appear to lie between\nthese two extremes. Rhymes of more than three syllables are rarely to\nbe met with in any language.\n\nThe position of the rhyme is at the conclusion of the lines, in\nwhich the rhyming word, although there is certainly no reason that\nit should ever concentrate in itself the ideal expressiveness of the\nsignificance, nevertheless does attract attention to itself so far as\nthe verbal sound is concerned; and, furthermore, it makes the different\nverses or stanzas follow one another either in accordance with the\nprinciple of a wholly abstract recurrence of the same rhyme, or by\nuniting, separating, and mutually relating them in a more elaborate\nmode of regulated change, and variously symmetrical interweaving of\ndifferent rhymes with correspondent relations, sometimes more near,\nat others more remote, of every degree of complexity. In such a\nprocess the particular rhymes will at one point stare us in the face\nat once, or they will appear to have a game of hide-and seek; so that\nin this way our ear, as it listens, will at one time receive instant\nsatisfaction, at another it will only find it after considerable delay,\nwherein the expectation will, as it were, be coquetted with, deceived,\nand kept on the stretch, until the assured end from point to point of\nartistically arranged recurrence is reached, and with it the hearer's\napproval.\n\nAmong the various types of the poetic art it is pre-eminently _lyric_\npoetry, which, by virtue of its ideality and personal quality of\nexpression, most readily avails itself of rhyme, and thereby converts\nlanguage itself into a music of emotion and melodic symmetry, a\nsymmetry not merely of time-measure and rhythmical movement, but of\nthe kind of resonance which finds a responsive echo in the inner life\nitself. To promote this, therefore, the art elaborates in its use\nof rhyme a more simple or complex system of strophes, every one of\nwhich is part of one organic whole. Examples of such an interplay of\nmelodic sound, whether steeped in emotion or rich in ingenuity, are the\nsonnet, canzonet, triolet, and madrigal. Epic poetry, on the contrary,\nso long as it does not mingle lyrical subject-matter with its more\nnative character, preserves a more equable advance in its construction,\nwhich does not easily adapt itself to the strophe. We have an obvious\nillustration of this in the triplet stanzas of Dante's \"Divine Comedy,\"\nas contrasted with the lyrical canzonets and sonnets of the same poet.\nHowever, I must not permit myself to go further into detail.\n\n(_c_) Now that we have in the above investigation separated rhythmical\nversification from rhyme, and _contrasted_ the same, we may now\nproceed, _thirdly_, to ask ourselves whether a _combination_ of the\ntwo is not also intelligible, and, indeed, actually employed. The\nexistence of certain more recent languages will render exceptional and\nimportant aid to the solution; in other words, we cannot deny to these\neither a partial reassertion of our former rhythmical system, or, in\ncertain respects, an association of the same with rhyme. We will, for\nexample, confine our attention to our mother tongue, and, in reference\nto the first-mentioned aspect, it will be sufficient to recall\nKlopstock, who would have as little of rhyme as possible; who not\nmerely in epic, but also in lyrical poetry, set himself to imitate the\nancients with the greatest enthusiasm and persistency. Voss and others\nhave followed in his steps, ever striving to enforce with increased\nstrictness principles upon which to base this rhythmical treatment of\nour language. Goethe, on the contrary, never felt quite himself in his\nclassical syllabic measures. He asks himself, not without reason:\n\n\n    Stehn uns diese weiten Falten\n    Zu Gesichte, wie den Alten?[50]\n\n\n(_\u03b1_) I will in this connection merely reiterate what I already\nhave observed upon the distinction which exists between ancient and\nmore modern languages. Rhythmical versification is based upon the\n_natural_ quantity of syllables, possessing therein an essentially\nstable criterion, which the ideal expression can neither limit,\nalter, or weaken. Such a natural measure is, however, abhorrent to\nmore recent languages; in these it is only the _verbal_ accent of the\nideal significance, which makes one syllable long in its contrast to\nothers, which are defective in such significance. Such a principle\nof accentuation, however, does not supply any audible compensation\nfor the absence of the natural quantity, or rather it adds to the\nactual uncertainty of such a measure. For the more strongly emphasized\nsignificance of a word can at the same time make another short, despite\nthe fact that, taken by itself, it possesses a verbal accent, so that\nthe criterion accepted is wholly one of mutual relation. _Du liebst,_\ncan, for instance, according to the stress of the emphasis which is\nthrown, according to the sense intended, either on both words, or one\nor the other, be a spondee, iambus or trochee. No doubt the attempt has\nbeen made, even in our own tongue, to return to the _natural_ quantity\nof syllables, and to create rules with this intent; but in the presence\nof the overwhelming importance that the intelligible significance and\nthe accent it asserts has secured such a reference to theory is quite\nimpracticable. And in truth this agrees with the state of the facts.\nIf the natural measure is really to constitute the essential basis,\nthe language ought not as yet to have become such an instrument of\nsoul expression as it is of necessity in our own times. Once allow,\nhowever, that it has already in its course of development thus secured\nsuch a mastery of the intelligible purport over the sensuous or native\nmaterial, and it follows that the fundamental test for the value of\nsyllables is not to be deduced from the objective quantity itself, but\nrather from that whereof words are themselves indicative as means. The\nemotional impulse of a free intelligence refuses to allow the temporal\nactivity of language, as such, to establish itself in the independent\nform of its native and objective reality.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Such a conclusion, however, does not necessarily imply that we\nare forced to oust altogether from our German language the rhymeless\nrhythmical treatment of the syllabic measure; it merely in essential\nrespects points to this, that it is not possible, conformably with the\ncharacter of the structure of our modern speech, to retain the plastic\nconsistency of the metrical medium as it was secured by the ancient\nworld. We must consequently seek for and elaborate some further element\nin poetical composition by way of compensation, which on its own\nindependent account is of a more ideal[51] character than the stable\nnatural quantity of syllables. Such an element is the accent of the\nverse, no less than the caesura, which as now constituted, instead of\nmoving independently of the verbal accent, coalesce with the same, and\nthereby receive a more significant, albeit a more abstract assertion,\nin virtue of the fact that the variety of that previous threefold\naccentuation, which we discovered in the rhythmical type of classical\npoetry, on account of this very coalescence necessarily disappears.\nIt, however, equally follows as a result that we only retain the power\nwith conspicuous success to imitate the rhythmic movement of such\npoetry where its impression on our ear is most emphatic. We no longer\npossess, that is to say, the stable quantitative basis for its more\nsubtle distinctions and manifold connections, and the more crude mode\nof accentuation, which we do possess in its place, to emphasize our\nmeasure, is intrinsically no sufficient substitute.\n\n(_\u03b3_) To state, then, finally, what this actual _association_ of the\nrhythmical mode of verse with rhyme is, we may go so far as to affirm\nthat it is the absorption, although to a limited extent, by the more\nmodern form of versification of the more ancient one.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The predominant distinction of the natural syllabic quantity\nby means of the verbal accent is in fact not an entirely satisfactory\nprinciple of the _mere medium._ It does not arrest the ear's attention,\neven on the side of sense simply, so far as to make it appear,\nabsolutely and everywhere unnecessary, where the ideal aspect of the\npoetical content is paramount, to summon the complementary assistance\nof the sound and response of syllables and words.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) It is, however, at the same time necessary in the interest\nof metre that an equally strong contrasting force should be set up\nto that of the rhyme sound. In so far, however, as it is _not_ the\ndistinction of syllables in their natural quantity and _its variety_,\nwhich has to be co-ordinated and made predominant, we have, in respect,\nto this temporal relation, no other expedient left but the _identical\nrepetition_ of the same time-measure; in this the element of accented\n_beat_ will tend to assert itself in a far more emphatic degree, than\nis compatible with the rhythmical system. As an illustration we have\nour German rhymed iambics and trochaics, in the recitation of which\nfar more beat stress is admitted than is proper to the scansion of the\nunrhymed iambics of the ancients, although the caesura pause is capable\nof bringing into emphatic relief isolated words whose accent is mainly\nreferable to their meaning, and is capable of further making all that\nremains dependent upon them a resisting effect to the abstract equality\nof the verse, and by so doing introduces a varied animation. And as\nin such a particular case, so we may assert generally, the time-beat\ncannot be of actual service in poetry with the force that is required\nof it in most musical compositions.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Although, however, we may affirm it as a general rule that\nrhyme should be associated merely with such verse metres, which, by\nvirtue of their simple changes of the syllabic quantity and their\ncontinuous recurrence of similar verse feet, do not on their own\nindependent account give sufficiently effective modality to the element\nof sensuous medium in modern languages which admit at all of rhythmical\ntreatment, yet the application of rhyme to the more profuse syllabic\nmetres imitated from classical models, as, for instance, to borrow\none example only, the alcaic and sapphic strophe, will not merely\nappear superfluous, but even an unresolved contradiction. Both systems\nrepose on opposed principles, and the attempt to unite them in the way\nsuggested, can only involve us in a like opposition, which can produce\nnothing but a contradiction we are unable to mediate, and which is\ntherefore untenable. It follows, therefore, that we ought only to make\nuse of rhyme in cases where the principle of the older versification\nmerely makes itself effective in more remote implication, and through a\ntransitional process essentially deducible from the system of rhyme.\n\nThe above, then, are the points which we have sought to establish as,\nin a broad sense, of most vital concern to poetical expression in its\ncontradistinction from prose.\n\n\n\n[Footnote 1: _Bildlich,_ here not so much creative as simply plastic or\nconstructive.]\n\n[Footnote 2: _Vorliebe._ His interest must be already centred in it.]\n\n[Footnote 3: _Bildlichkeit_, _i.e._, their claims as images of something\nelse.]\n\n[Footnote 4: _Vertauscht._ I have translated \"exchanged,\" but Hegel may\nmean \"mistaken for.\"]\n\n[Footnote 5: It is not very clear what Hegel means by the word\n_Bezeichnungen._ \"Turns of expression,\" which first occurred to me,\nappears to be covered by _Flexionsformen_ lower down.]\n\n[Footnote 6: _Gedrungenen._ The idea is suppression into a compact\nmass--a cloud unable to burst save in occasional flashes.]\n\n[Footnote 7: I presume Hegel refers here to the synthetic arrangement\nof genuine paragraphs rather than phrases, composition generally.]\n\n[Footnote 8: _Das eigentliche Wort_. The word, that is, which expresses\nthe fact in its immediacy.]\n\n[Footnote 9: More literally, \"being remoulded with the life and wealth\nof Spirit.\"]\n\n[Footnote 10: _Besonnenheit_, _i.e.,_ real thought-fullness.]\n\n[Footnote 11: _Der k\u00fcnstlerischen Ruhe._ The personal predilection of\nHegel for classic art here once more asserts itself.]\n\n[Footnote 12: The German word is _Sinnen_, but I think, though the\nemotional sense is partly implied, the main emphasis is on a presiding\nmind--or rather a wide-visioned genius.]\n\n[Footnote 13: _Eine sprudelnde Anschauung._ A view of things that\nbubbles forth like a fountain.]\n\n[Footnote 14: That is, the medium of literary form.]\n\n[Footnote 15: _Ein hartes Band._ The idea is not so much difficult as\nunyielding, unmalleable.]\n\n[Footnote 16: _Zum Ernste des Inhalts_. That is, the earnestness of\na product of mind as such. Hegel seems to contrast with this the\nspontaneity of an art which, as inspired by genius, comes to us with\nthe freshness of Nature herself, take Shakespeare's songs for example.]\n\n[Footnote 17: _Ungebunden._ That is, it is contingent.]\n\n[Footnote 18: Hegel calls this the _Verstandesaccent_, and speaks of\nthis importance (_Bedeutsamkeit_) as a product of the syllables.]\n\n[Footnote 19: I presume the words _das f\u00fcr sich gestaltete Klingen_\nrefer to rhyme.]\n\n[Footnote 20: _Eine Sammlung in sich_, that is, an independent\ncollection or aggregate.]\n\n[Footnote 21: _Anheben_ may possibly mean appearance in the defined\nseries generally.]\n\n[Footnote 22: By _Versen_ Hegel means rather lines than a number of\nthem.]\n\n[Footnote 23: The dative appears to be a misprint. The passage should\nbe read _der_ and _die,_ instead of _dem_ and _der_.]\n\n[Footnote 24: I am not quite sure what Hegel refers to in what he\ndescribes as _das Hin\u00fcbergreifen des Wortes._ I presume he means what\nare known as weak endings to a line.]\n\n[Footnote 25: _Gedrungen._ I suppose this is the meaning. The entire\npassage is a difficult one to follow.]\n\n[Footnote 26: _Ein allgemeines H\u00f6ren._]\n\n[Footnote 27: That is, the accent of the syllables as a mere medium of\nuttered speech.]\n\n[Footnote 28: Lit., has its flank turned, _\u00fcberfl\u00fcgelt._]\n\n[Footnote 29: _Die blosse Vergeistigung._]\n\n[Footnote 30: No other means to divert the ears attention. The sentence\nis rather involved, and I have not seen my way to simplify it.]\n\n[Footnote 31: _Abstract unterworfen._ Hegel apparently means abstract\nas detached from the natural medium of language--becoming thereby the\nabstract symbol of idea exclusively.]\n\n[Footnote 32: As in musical art.]\n\n[Footnote 33: _Seelen-tonen_, _i.e.,_ the wave and flow of the\nemotional life itself.]\n\n[Footnote 34: _In das Spielen_. Hegel repeats his use of the expression\nabove, _beiher Spielen_, lit., the playing with not as a toy but as\nsomething serious.]\n\n[Footnote 35: I suppose this is the meaning here of _Sharfsinn,_ but\n\"subtlety\" may be included.]\n\n[Footnote 36: Indifferent, that is, as asserting the creative freedom\nof the poet, he can select his own rhymes as he wills. Hegel, however,\nseems rather to miss the essential spontaneity of really good blank\nverse.]\n\n[Footnote 37: So I translate _die innere Subjectivit\u00e4t_, but it may\nrefer perhaps to the entire creative personality.]\n\n[Footnote 38: That is, I presume, their relation to romantic art.]\n\n[Footnote 39: That is, the primary feature changed is that of the\nvalidity of natural quantity.]\n\n[Footnote 40: _Dem \u00c4usseren Daseyn._ That is, of language.]\n\n[Footnote 41: _Entfaltung._ Such an explication of rhythmical euphony\nas the previous system discloses.]\n\n[Footnote 42: _Geistes._ All that pertains to conscious life.]\n\n[Footnote 43: Lit., a blunt or coarse sound, _ein plumpes Klingen._]\n\n[Footnote 44: _Tonen_ implies sound no less than accent. I have\nrendered it in various ways.]\n\n[Footnote 45: _Von Seiten des Geistes._ Perhaps rather \"as aspects of\nthe poet's intelligence\"--that is, with reference to the self-assertion\nabove explained.]\n\n[Footnote 46: More nearly related to the natural medium of language.]\n\n[Footnote 47: _Die Verslehre der Isl\u00e4nder v. Rask, verd. von Mohnike_,\nBerlin, 1830, pp. 14-17.]\n\n[Footnote 48:_Betonte_, see above note on _Tonen._]\n\n[Footnote 49: _St\u00e4mme_, the stem of verbs, rather than the root of\nsubstantives, which would be more correctly _stammwort._]\n\n[Footnote 50: \"Do we moderns face broad reaches such as these, as\ndid the ancients?\" _Falten_, folds, expatiation of subject-matter.\nI presume, though I do not recall the context, that the allusion is\nmainly to elegiacs.]\n\n[Footnote 51: _I.e._, more related to active intelligence.]\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nTHE SEVERAL GENERIC TYPES OF POETRY\n\n\nThe two fundamental aspects, according to which we have hitherto\nexamined the poetical art were, in the first instance, that of poetical\nsignificance or content _in the broadest sense_, the nature of the\noutlook of a poetical composition and the creative activity of the\npoet; secondly, poetical _expression,_ not merely respectively to the\nideas which have to be embodied in _words,_ but also to the modes under\nwhich they are expressed and the character of _versification._\n\nI. What we, above all, in these respects endeavoured to enforce\nconsisted in this, that poetry has to embrace the ideality of\nconscious life as its content; yet, in its artistic elaboration of\nthe same, it cannot rest satisfied with the objective form of direct\nperception as other plastic arts; nor can it accept as its form the\nemotional ideality which alone reverberates through our soul-life,\nnor yet that of thinking and the relations of reflective thought.\nIt has to maintain a mediate position between the extremes of\nimmediate objectivity and the inner life of feeling and thought. This\nintermediate sphere of conception overlaps both sides. From thought it\nborrows the aspect of ideal _universality,_ which binds together the\nimmediate particularity of the senses in more definitive simplicity;\nwhile, on the other hand, its mode of envisagement shares with plastic\nart the haphazard[1] juxtaposition of objects in space. The poetic\nimagination, moreover, is essentially distinct from thinking in that it\npermits, under the mode of sensuous apprehension from which it starts,\nparticular ideas to remain in an unrelated series or contiguity; pure\nthinking, on the other hand, demands and promotes the reciprocal\ndependence of determinate concepts on each other, an interstructure of\nrelations, consequential or conclusive judgments, and so forth. When,\ntherefore, the _poetical_ imagination in its art-products renders\nnecessary an ideal unity of all particularity, such integration\nmay easily meet with obstruction by virtue of the above-mentioned\ndiffuseness[2] which the nature of its content forbids it wholly to\neschew; and it is just this which puts it in the power of poetry to\nembody and present a content in organic and vital inter-connection of\nsuccessive aspects and divisions, yet impressed at the same time with\nthe apparent independence of these. And by this means it is possible\nfor poetry to extend the selected content at one time rather in the\ndirection of abstract thought, at another rather under the condition\nof the phenomenal world, and consequently to include within its survey\nthe most sublime thoughts of speculative philosophy, no less than the\nexternal objects of Nature, always provided that the former are not put\nforward in the logical forms of ratiocination and scientific deduction,\nor the latter as void of all vital or other significance. The function,\nin short, of poetry is to present a complete world, whose ideal or\nessential content must be spread before us under the external guise of\nhuman actions, events, and other manifestations of soul;life, with all\nthe wealth and directness compatible with such art.\n\n2. This explication, however, does not receive its sensuous embodiment\nin stone, wood, or colour, but exclusively in language, whose\nversification, accentuation, and the rest are in fact the trappings[3]\nof speech, by means of which the ideal content secures an external\nform. If we ask ourselves now, to put the thing somewhat crudely,\nwhere we are to look for the _material_ consistency of this mode of\nexpression, we must reply that language is not essentially on all fours\nwith a work[4] of plastic art, independent, that is, of the artistic\ncreator, but it is the _life of our humanity itself_ the individual\nspeaker alone who is the vehicle of the sensuous presence and actuality\nof a poetical work. The compositions of poetry must be recited, sung,\nacted, reproduced, in short, by living people, just as the compositions\nof music are so reproduced. We are no doubt accustomed to read epic\nand lyric poetry, and only to hear drama recited and to see the same\naccompanied by gesture. Poetry, however, is essentially and according\nto its notion, _sonorous expression_, and we may, in particular, not\ndispense with this, if a complete exposition of the art is our aim,\nfor the reason that it is the aspect and the only aspect, under which\nit comes into genuine contact with objective existence. The printed\nor written letter is, no doubt, also in a sense objectively present,\nbut it is merely as the indifferent symbol of sounds and words. We\nno doubt have in a previous passage regarded words as the purely\nexternal means which give us the signification of ideas. We must not,\nhowever, overlook the fact that poetry, at any rate, so informs the\ntemporal element and sound of these signs, as to ennoble them in a\nmedium suffused with the ideal vitality of that, whereof, in their\nabstractness, they are the symbols. The printing press merely makes\nvisible to our eyes this form of animation under a mode which, taken\nby itself, is essentially indifferent and no longer coalescent with\nthe ideal content; it consigns it, in its altered form of visibility,\nto the element of time-duration and the sound of ordinary speech,[5]\ninstead of giving us in fact the accented word and its determinate\ntime-duration. When we, therefore, content ourselves with mere reading\nwe do so partly owing to the ease with which we can thus picture to\nourselves what is real as actually uttered in speech, partly because\nof the undeniable fact that poetry alone among the arts, in aspects\nof fundamental importance, is already completely at home in the life\nof spirit, and neither the impression of it on our sense of sight or\nhearing give us the root of the matter. Yet for all that, precisely\nby virtue of this ideality, poetry, as art, ought not wholly to\ndivest itself of this aspect of objective expression, if at least it\nis anxious to avoid an incompleteness similar to that in which, for\ninstance, the mere outlined drawing attempts to reproduce the picture\nof famous colourists.\n\n3. As an artistically organic whole referred no longer to a specific\ntype of exclusive execution on account of the onesided character of its\nmedium, the art of poetry accepts in a general way for its determinate\nform various types of art-production, and it is consequently necessary\nto borrow the _criteria_ of our _classification_ of such _poetical\ntypes_ or species from the _general_ notion of artistic production.[6]\n\n(_A_) In this respect it is, _first,_ and from one point of view,\nthe form of objective reality, wherein poetry reproduces the evolved\ncontent of conscious life in the ideal image, and therewithal\nessentially repeats the principle of plastic art, which makes the\nimmediate object of fact visible. These plastic figures of the\nimagination poetry furthermore unveils as determined in the activities\nof human and divine beings, so that every thing, which takes place,\nissues in part from ethically self-subsistent human or divine forces,\nand in part also, by virtue of obstructive agencies, meets with a\nreaction, and thus, in its external form of manifestation, becomes an\n_event,_ in which the facts in question disclose themselves in free\nindependence, and the poet retires into the background. To grasp such\nevents in a consequential whole is the task of _Epic_ poetry, inasmuch\nas its aim is just to declare poetically, and in the form of the actual\nfacts, either an essentially complete action, or the personalities,\nfrom which the same proceeds in its substantive worth or its eventful\ncomplexity amid the medley of external accidence. And by so doing it\nrepresents the _objective_ fact itself in its objectivity.\n\nAnd, moreover, the minstrel does not recite this positive world before\nconscious sense and feeling in a way that would seem to announce it as\nhis personal phantasy, and his own heart's passion; rather this reciter\nor rhapsodist recites it by heart, in a mechanical sort of way, and\nin a metre which, while it repeats something of this monotony with\nits uniformity of structure, rolls onward in a tranquil and steady\nstream. What, in short, the minstrel narrates must appear as a part\nof real life, which, in respect to content no less than presentation,\nstands in absolute independence aloof from himself, the narrator; he is\nthroughout, in relation that is to the facts of his tale no less than\nthe manner in which he unfolds them, not permitted wholly to identify\nhis own personality with their substance.\n\n(_B_) In direct contrast to epic poetry we have our _second_ type, that\nnamely of _lyrical_ poetry. Its content is that within ourselves, the\nideal world, the contemplative or emotional life of soul, which instead\nof following up actions, remains at home with itself in its own ideal\nrealm, and, consequently, is able to accept _self-expression_ as its\nunique and indeed final end. Here we have, therefore, no substantive\ntotality, self-evolved as external fact or event, but the express\noutlook, emotion and observation of the individual's self-introspective\nlife shares in what is substantive and actual therein as its own, as\nits passion, mood or reflection; we have here the birth of its own\nloins. Such a fulfilment and ideal process is not adequately realized\nin a mechanical delivery such as we saw was conceded as appropriate\nto epic poetry. On the contrary the singer must give utterance to the\nideas and views of lyrical art as though they were the expression of\nhis own soul, his own emotions. And inasmuch as it is this _innermost\nworld_, which the delivery has to animate, the expression of it will\nabove all lean to the musical features of poetical reproduction;\nwhether permitted as an embellishment or a necessity we shall here meet\nwith the varied modulation of the voice, either in recitation or song,\nand the accompaniment of musical instruments.\n\n(_C_) Our _third_ and final mode of poetical composition unites the\ntwo previous ones in a new totality. In this we not only discover an\n_objective_ exposition, but also can trace its source in the ideal life\nof particular people; what is objective here is therefore portrayed\nas appertinent to the conscious life of individuals.[7] To put the\ncase conversely, the conscious life of individuals is on the one hand\nunfolded as it passes over into actual life experience, and on the\nother as involved in the fatality of events, which brings about passion\nin causal and necessary connection with the individual's own action.\nWe have here, therefore, as in Epic poetry, an action expanded to our\nview in its conflicts and issues; spiritual forces come to expression\nand battle; the element of contingency is everywhere involved, and\nhuman activity is either brought into contact with the energy of\nan omnipotent destiny, or a directive and world-ruling Providence.\nHuman action, however, does not here only pass before our vision in\nthe objective form of its actual occurrence, as an event of the Past\nresuscitated by the narrative alone; on the contrary, it is made to\nappear as actually realized in the particular volition, morality or\nimmorality of the specific characters depicted, which thereby become\ncentral in the principle of _lyric_ poetry. Add to this, however, that\nsuch individuals are not merely disclosed in their inner experience\nas such; they also declare themselves in the execution of passion\ndirected to ends; whereby they offer a criterion--in the way that\nepic poetry asserts what is substantive in its positive reality[8]\nfor the evaluation of those passions and the aims which are directed\nto the objective conditions and rational laws of the concrete world;\nand it is, moreover, by this very test of the worth and conditions,\nunder which such individuals continue in their resolve to abide, that\ntheir destiny is discovered by implication. This objective presence,\nwhich proceeds from the personality itself, no less than this personal\nexperience,[9] which is reproduced in its active realization and all\nthat declares its worth in the world, is Spirit in its own living\ntotality; it is this which, as _action_, supplies both form and content\nto _dramatic poetry._\n\nMoreover, inasmuch as this concrete whole is itself no less essentially\nconscious life than it is, under the aspect of its external\nrealization, also a self-manifestation, quite apart from all question\nof local or other artistic means of realization, we are bound, in\nrespect to this representation of actual facts, to meet the claim of\ngenuine poetry that we should have the _entire personality_ of the\nindividual envisaged; only as such the living man himself is actually\nthat which is expressed. For though, on the one hand, in the drama, as\nin lyric poetry, a character ought to express the content of its own\nsoul-life as a veritable possession, yet, from another point of view,\nit asserts itself, when, in its entire personality it is confronted\nwith other personalities, as effective in its practical existence, and\ncomes thereby into active contact with the world around it, by means\nof which it attaches itself immediately to an active disposition,[10]\nwhich, quite as truly as articulate speech, is an expression of the\nsoul-life, and requires its artistic treatment. Already we find in\nlyrical poetry some close approach to the apportionment of various\nemotions among different individual speakers, and the distribution of\nits subject-matter in acts or scenes.\n\nIn the drama, then, subjective emotion passes on likewise to the\nexpression of action; and, by so doing, renders necessary the\nmanifestation to our senses of the play of gesture which concentrates\nthe universality of language in a closer relation with the expression\nof personality,[11] and by means of position, demeanour, gesticulation\nand other ways is individualized and completed. If, however, this\naspect of deportment is carried forward by artistic means to a degree\nof expression, that it can dispense with speech, we have the art of\npantomime, which resolves the rhythmical movement of poetry in a\nharmonious and picturesque motion of limbs, and in this, so to speak,\nplastic music of bodily position and movement gives animated life in\nthe dance to the tranquil and cold figures of sculpture, that it may\nessentially unite by such means music and the plastic art.\n\n\n[Footnote 1: _Gleichg\u00fcltige_, that is, the impressions of sense are\nreceived from without, from a manifold indifferent to ourselves.]\n\n[Footnote 2: _Losheit._ A word coined by Hegel to denote this relation\nof poetry to external objects in their independence.]\n\n[Footnote 3: _Die Gebehrden_, lit., gestures, in which sense it is used\nin a subsequent passage.]\n\n[Footnote 4: We should rather have expected \"the material of plastic\nart.\" The contrast is rather between the nature of the medium in each\ncase than the finished product. So far as the latter is concerned\nthe musical composition is as dependent, even more dependent for its\npresentment on human activity as poetical composition.]\n\n[Footnote 5: _Des Klingens unseres Gewohnheit._ It is not quite clear\nwhat the meaning is here. The meaning may be as in the interpretation\nabove. But it is rather difficult to see how, so far as mere print\ngoes, we can be conscious of actual sound at all, unless it is\nintended here to include at least the act of reading; an alternative\ninterpretation would be the \"habitual verbal accent,\" but we should\nin that case have rather expected the substantive _Nachdrucks_ for\n_Klingens._]\n\n[Footnote 6: Hegel means of course that as that notion stands midway\nbetween the objectivity of sense-perception and the concept of thought,\nso too this classification will be based on the attitude of the art\neither to the personal life, or the objects of sense, as the one aspect\nis more strongly represented or the other.]\n\n[Footnote 7: _Dem Subject._ That is, I understand, the individual\nsubject generally, not merely the conscious life of the poet or the\nsinger.]\n\n[Footnote 8: _In seiner Gediegenheit_, _i.e.,_ as concrete.]\n\n[Footnote 9: _Dies Subjektive._ The realization of self in the world is\npart of that world regarded as a rational and self-conscious process,\nSpirit.]\n\n[Footnote 10: _Sich die Gebehrde anschliesst_, _i.e._ a practical\nattitude to the world, involving gesture and other actions.]\n\n[Footnote 11: Hegel's expression is \"the personality of expression,\"\n_i.e.,_ the personal aspect of expression.]\n\n\n\n\nA. EPIC POETRY\n\n\nThe Epos, word, saga, states simply what the fact is which is\ntranslated into the word. It acquires an essentially self-consistent\ncontent in order to express the fact _that it is_ and how it is. What\nwe have here brought before consciousness is the object regarded as\nobject in its relations and circumstances, in their full compass and\ndevelopment, the object, in short, in its determinate existence.\n\nWe propose to treat our subject-matter as follows:\n\n_First_, we shall attempt to describe the _general_ character of what\nis Epical:\n\n_Secondly_, we shall proceed to some _particular_ features, which in\nrespect to the real Epos are of exceptional importance:\n\n_Thirdly_, we shall enumerate by name certain _specific_ methods\nof treatment, which have been actually in use in particular epic\ncompositions within the historical elaboration of the type.\n\n\n\n\nI. THE GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE EPIC TYPE\n\n\n(_a_) The most simple, but nevertheless in its abstract concentration,\nstill one-sided and incomplete mode of epic exposition consists in the\nassertion of that which is essentially fundamental and necessary among\nthe facts of the concrete world and the wealth of mutable phenomena,\nand in the expression of such on their own account, as focussed in epic\nphraseology.\n\n(_\u03b1_) We may begin our consideration of the type with the _epigram_\ni, in so far as it really remains an epigram, that is an inscription\non columns, effects, monuments, gifts and so forth, and at the same\ntime points with an ideal finger to something else, and by doing so\nexplains through words, inscribed on an object, somewhat otherwise\nplastic, local, something present outside the words expressed. In\nsuch an example the epigram states simply what a definite fact is.\nThe individual does not as yet express his concrete self; he attaches\na concise interpretation to the object, the locality, which he has\nimmediate perception of and which claims his interested attention, an\ninterpretation which goes to the heart of the fact in question.\n\n(_\u03b2_) A yet further advance may be discovered in the case where the\ntwofold aspect of the object in its external reality and the fact of\ninscription disappears, in so far, that is, as poetry, without any\nactual representation on the object, expresses its idea of the fact. To\nthis class belong the gnomes of the ancients, ethical sayings, which\nconcentrate in concise language that which is more forceable than\nmaterial objects, more permanent and universal than the monument of\nsome definite action, more perdurable than votive offerings, columns,\nand temples. Such are duties in human existence, the wisdom of life,\nthe vision of that which constitutes in action and knowledge the firm\nfoundations and stable bonds for human kind. The epic character of\nsuch modes of conception consists in this, that such maxims do not\ndeclare themselves as exclusively personal emotion and reflection, and\nalso, in the matter of their impression, are quite as little directed\nwith the object even of affecting our emotions, but rather with the\npurpose to emphasize what is of sterling validity, whether as the\nobject of human obligation or the sense of honour and propriety. The\nancient Greek elegiacs have in some measure this epic tone. We have\nstill extant a few verses of Solon of this kind, though the transition\nhere into a hortatory tone and style is easily made. Such include\nexhortations or warnings with reference to the common social life,\nits laws and morality. We may also mention the gold sayings, which\ntradition ascribes to Pythagoras. Yet all such are of a hybrid nature,\nand referable to this, that though in general we may associate with\nthem the tone of our distinct type, yet, owing to the incompleteness of\nthe object, it is not fully realized, but rather there is a distinct\ntendency to involve with it that of another poetical type, in the\npresent case the lyrical.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Such dicta may, however, _thirdly_, as already suggested, by\nbeing divested of this fragmentary and self-exclusive isolation, go to\nform a larger whole, be rounded off, that is, in a totality, which is\naltogether of the _Epic_ type; we have here neither a purely lyrical\nframe of mind nor a dramatic action, but a specific and veritable\nsphere of the living world whose essential nature, as emphasized in\nits general characteristics, no less than as situated to particular\naspects, points of view, occurrences or obligations, supplies us with\nan integrating unity and a genuine focal centre. In complete agreement\nwith this type of epical content, which displays what is of permanent\nand universal import along with, as a rule, a distinct ethical purpose\nof admonishment, instruction or exhortation to an, in all essentials,\nethically stable life, compositions of this kind receive a _didactic_\nflavour. Nevertheless, by reason of the novelty of their wise sayings,\nthe freshness of their general outlook and the ingenuousness of their\nobservation we must keep them quite distinct from more recent didactic\npoetry. They wholly justify, inasmuch as they give the necessary\nplay to matter entirely descriptive, the conclusion that these two\naspects taken together, instruction and description, are directly\ndeduced as the substantive summary of facts which have been throughout\nexperienced. As an obvious illustration I will merely mention the\n\"Works and Days\" of Hesiod, the teaching and descriptive power of\nwhich, in its primitive style and as a poetical composition, exercises\na fascination upon us wholly different from the pleasure we experience\nin the colder elegance, the scientific or systematic conclusions of\nVirgil's poems on agriculture.\n\n(_b_) The above described modes of epigram, gnome, and didactive\npoem accept their _specific_ provinces of Nature or human life as\ntheir subject-matter, while endeavouring to fix attention in concise\nlanguage, with more or less limitation of survey, on that which is of\npermanent worth and essential truth in this or that object, condition,\nor activity; and even under the still more restricted condition\nwhich the art of poetry imposes on such a task the practical result\nupon human effort is still maintained. There is, however, a further\nor _second_ type of such compositions, which is, on the one hand,\nprofounder in its penetration, and, on the other, lays less stress\non instruction and reform. Such are the cosmogonies and theogonies,\nno less than those most ancient works of philosophy, which are still\nunable entirely to liberate themselves from the poetical form.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In this way the exposition of the Eleatic philosophy in the\npoems of Xenophanes and Parmenides still remains poetic in form; and\nthis is exceptionally so in the introduction prefaced by the latter\nto his work. The content is here the One, which, in its contrast\nto the Becoming or the already Become, all particular phenomena in\nshort, is eternal and imperishable. No particularity is permitted\nto bring content to the human spirit, which strives after truth,\nand, in the first instance, is cognizant of the same in its most\nabstract unity and concreteness. Expatiating in the greatness of this\nobject, and wrestling with the might of the same, the impulse of\nsoul inclines instinctively to the lyrical expression, although the\nentire explication of the truths into which the writer's thought here\npenetrates carries on its face a wholly practical and thereby epic\ncharacter.\n\n(_\u03b2_) It is, _secondly_, the _becoming_ of objective things, in\nparticular natural objects, the press and conflict of activities\noperative in Nature, which supplies the matter of the cosmogonies,\nand impels the poetic imagination to disclose in the still more\nconcrete and opulent mode of actions and events real eventuality. And\nthe way this faculty does this is by clothing the forces of Nature\nin relatively more or less personified or figurative images placed\nin distinct stages, and through the symbolical form of human events\nand actions. Such a type of epic content and exposition pre-eminently\nbelongs to Oriental Nature-religions; and above all among them the\npoetry of India is to an excessive degree prolific in the invention and\nportrayal of such modes of conception, frequently of an unbridled and\nextravagant type, concerning the origin of the world and the powers\nthat are active therein.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We find, _thirdly_, similar characteristics in theogonies. Such\noccupy their true position mainly in so far as, on the one hand, the\nmany particular gods are not suffered exclusively to possess the life\nof Nature as the more essential content of their power and creation,\nnor, conversely, is it one god that creates the world out of thought\nand spirit, and who, in the jealous mood of monotheism, will tolerate\nno other gods beside himself. This fair mean is alone exemplified in\nthe religious outlook of the Greeks. It discovers an imperishable\nsubject-matter for theogony-building in the forceful emancipation of\nthe family of Zeus from the lawlessness of primitive natural forces,\nno less than in the conflict waged against them. It is a process and\na strife which we may indeed affirm gives us the historical origins\nof the immortal gods of poetry itself. The famous example of such an\nepic mode of conception we possess in the theogony known to us under\nthe name of Hesiod. In this composition the entire course of event is\nthroughout wedded to the form of human occurrences; it becomes less and\nless symbolical just to the extent that the gods, who are summoned to\na spiritual dominion, are themselves liberated through an intelligent\nand ethical individuality adequate to their essential nature, and\nconsequently are rightfully claimed and depicted as acting like\nhuman beings. What is, however, still absent from this type of Epic\ncomposition is, in the first place, a genuinely complete _result_[1]\nas poetry. The acts and events, which are within the scope of the\nsurvey of such poems, are no doubt an essentially necessary succession\nof occurrence, but they are not an individual action which issues as\nfrom a centre, wherein it discovers its unity and independence. From\na further point of view the content of such poetry does not, and in\nvirtue of its character cannot, present to us an essentially _complete\nwhole_. It does, and for the above reason must, exclude the real\nactivities of mankind, which are indispensable as the truly concrete\nmaterial for the active display of the Divine forces. Epic poetry,\ntherefore, is bound to free itself from such defects, if it is to\nreceive its most perfect expression.\n\n(_c_) This actually does take place in that sphere which we may\ndesignate the true _Epop\u0153a._\n\nIn the types hitherto discussed, which as a rule are wholly passed\nover, what we call the epic tone is unmistakably present, but the\ncontent is not as yet poetical in the concrete sense. Particular\nethical maxims and philosophemata still persist as part of the\nmaterial. What is, however, poetical in the full sense is concrete\nideality in individual guise; and the epos, inasmuch as it makes what\nactually exists its object, accepts as such the happening of a definite\naction, which, in the full compass of its circumstances and relations\nmust be brought with clarity to our vision as an event enriched by its\nfurther association with the organically complete world of a nation\nand an age. It follows from this that the collective world-outlook\nand objective presence of a national spirit, displayed as an actual\nevent in the form of its self-manifestation, constitutes, and nothing\nshort of this does so, the content and form of the true epic poem. As\none aspect of such a totality we have the religious consciousness in\nevery degree of profundity attained by the human spirit; it furthermore\nembraces the particular concrete life, whether political or domestic,\nnot excluding all the detail of external existence, and the means by\nwhich human necessities are satisfied. All such material the epos makes\nof vital account as a growth in close contact with individuals; and\nfor this reason, that for poetry the universal and substantive is only\nrealized in the living presence of spirit life.\n\nSuch a comprehensive world, together with the human characterization\nit embraces, must then pass before us as real in a tranquil stream,\nwithout any undue haste, either as positive history or dramatic action,\ntowards its aim and conclusion. We must thereby be permitted to linger\nround isolated facts, to penetrate into the different pictures of its\nmovement and to enjoy them in all their detail. And by this means\nthe entire panorama receives in its objective mode of realization\nthe form of an external series of events, the basis and limitations\nof which must be implied in the essential ideality of the particular\nepic content, and of which the positive assertion is alone absent.\nIf, consequently, the epic poem is, in its links of connection, more\ndiffuse, and, by virtue of the relatively greater independence of\nportions of it, inclined to suffer from lack of coherency, we must not\nallow ourselves the impression that it could ever have been actually\nsung throughout in this manner. Rather it is an imperative in its case,\nas in that of any other artistic production, that it should be finished\noff in an essentially organic whole, which, however, moves forward in\napparent tranquillity, in order that the particular fact and the images\nof actual life it contains may engage our interest.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Such a primitive whole is the epic composition, whether known as\nthe saga, the book, or the bible of a people. We may add every great\nand important nation can claim to have such primitive books, in which\nwe find a mirror of the original spirit of a folk. To this extent\nthese memorials are nothing less than the real foundations of the\nnational consciousness; and it would be of profound interest to make a\ncollection of such epic bibles. Such a series of Epopees, however much\nthey fell short of artistic compositions in the modern sense, would at\nleast present to us a gallery of the genius of nations. At the same\ntime it is doubtless the fact that it is not every national bible which\ncan claim the poetic form of the epop\u0153a; nor do all nations which have\nembodied their most sacred memorials, whether in relation to religion\nor secular life, in the form of comprehensive compositions of the\nepic type, possess religious books. The Old Testament, for example,\ncontains no doubt much epic narrative and genuine history, no less than\nincidental poetic compositions; but despite of this the whole is not\na work of art. In a similar way the New Testament, as also the Koran,\nare mainly limited to a religious subject-matter, starting from which\nthe life of the world at large is to some extent and in later times a\nconsequence. Conversely, though the Hellenes have a poetic bible in\nthe poems of Homer, they are without ancient religious books in the\nsense the Hindoos and the Parsees possess such. Where, however, we meet\nwith the primitive epopoea, we must essentially distinguish between\nprimitive poetic books and the more recent classic compositions of\na nation, which do not any longer offer us a mirror of the national\nspirit in all its compass but do no more than reflect it partially\nand in particular directions. The dramatic poetry of the Hindoos, for\nexample, or the tragedies of Sophocles present no such exhaustive\npicture as we find in the Ramajana and the Maha-Bharata, or the Iliad\nand the Odyssey.\n\n(_\u03b2_) And insomuch as in the genuine Epos the na\u00efve national\nconsciousness is expressed for the first time in poetic guise, the real\nepic poem will appear for the most part in that midway stage in which,\nthough no doubt a people is aroused from its stupidity, and its life\nis to that extent essentially strengthened to the point of reproducing\nits own world and of feeling itself at home therein, yet, for all that,\neverything which at a later stage becomes fixed religious dogma or\ncivic law and ethical rule, still remains in the fluency of life as\nmere opinion, inseparable from the individual as such. And along with\nthis volition and feeling are not as yet held distinct from one another.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) It is only after the separation of the individual's personal\nself from the concrete national whole, with its conditions, modes of\nopinion, exploits and destiny; it is only, further, after the division\nin man himself between his emotion and volition, that the lyric and\ndramatic types of poetry in turn replace the epic type and attain their\nrichest development. This consummation is only reached in the later\nlife-experience of a people, in which the general lines laid down by\nmen for the due regulation of their affairs are no longer inseparable\nfrom the sentiments and opinions of the nation as a whole, but already\nhave secured an independent structure as a co-ordinated system of\njurisprudence and law, as a prosaic disposition of positive facts, as\na political constitution, as a body of ethical or other precepts; and\nbeing so, individuals are now confronted with material obligations\nrather as a necessary force external to themselves than one which their\nown inner life asserts, and which it compels them to substantiate as\nits fulfilment. As opposed to such an already actual and independent\nsystem, the individual life will seek in part to find expression in an\nequally independent world and growth of personal vision, reflection\nand emotion, which are not carried further into the sphere of action,\nand will further give _lyrical_ utterance to its selfabsorption, its\npre-occupation with the content of such a soul-experience. And, in\npart also, it will make its active passion of main importance, and\nwill seek to assert itself independently in action, in so far as it\nis able to divest external conditions, the event and its concomitants\nof any claim to truly epic self-subsistency. It is just this increase\nto the strength and stability of individual character and aims in\ntheir relation to action which opens the way to _dramatic_ poetry. To\nreturn, however, to the epic, we repeat that it is the above-mentioned\nunity of feeling and action which it demands, that unity between the\nself-fulfilled object of the personal life and the external accident\nand event; a unity which, as observed, is only present without blemish\nas it first appears in the earliest periods of the national life or the\nnational poetry.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) At the same time, we must not yield ourselves, therefore, to the\nimpression that a people in its heroical time simply as such, and as\nthe home of its epos, there and then was in possession of art, or could\nnecessarily depict its life in the mirror of poetry. As a matter of\nfact, an essentially poetical nationality in its actual world-presence\nis one thing; the art of poetry regarded as the imaginative\nconsciousness of poetical material, and the artistic presentment of\nsuch a world is quite another. The felt want to express oneself _as\nidea_ in terms of the latter, the trained knowledge of art, are later\nacquisitions than the life and spirit itself, which discovers itself in\nall simplicity at home in its unreservedly poetical existence. Homer\nand the poems under his name are centuries later than the Trojan war,\nwhich is to myself quite as much an historical fact as the personality\nof Homer. In the same way we may affirm of Ossian, always assuming that\nthe poems ascribed to him are really his, that he celebrates an heroic\npast, the sunset splendour of which inspires him to recall and reclothe\nthe same in poetical form.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Despite, however, such a separation, some intimate bond of\nassociation must exist between the poet and his subject-matter. The\npoet must still stand on even terms with the conditions, the general\npoint of vision, the beliefs which he depicts. All he should find\nit necessary to do is to attach to these the poetic consciousness\nand the art capable of portraying them; in other respects they are\nstill essential factors in his own life. If such an affinity as that\nabove described is absent in our poet's epic creation, his poem must\ninfallibly contain disparate and irreconcilable features. For both\nthese aspects--namely, the content, the epic world, which it is the\nintention to portray, and the world of the poet's conscious life and\nimagination, which is in other respects independent of the above--are\nof spiritual derivation; they each of them possess intrinsically a\ndefinite principle, in which particular traits of characterization are\ninvolved. If, then, the personal life of the artist is essentially\nof a different order to that by virtue of which the historical and\nnational life depicted came into actual being, we must necessarily\nbecome conscious of a cleft in the artistic result which will disturb\nand injure its effect. We shall have, in short, scenes placed before\nus of a previous condition of history, combined with modes of\nthought, opinions, and views more pertinent to other periods; and, in\nconsequence of this, the configuration of primitive beliefs will, in\nits contact with the more developed reflection of a later time, lose\nthe warmth of conviction, become, in short, a mere superstition, an\nempty embellishment of the mere poetical instrumentation, from which\nall the vitality of its actual life has vanished.\n\n(_\u03b3_) And this brings us to the general question what position the poet\nhimself of genuine epic poetry really ought to take up.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Now, however much the Epos ought also to be positive in the\nsense that it is the objective presentment of a world based upon its\nown foundations, and realized in virtue of its own necessary laws,\na world, moreover, with which the personal outlook of the poet must\nremain in a connection that enables him to identify himself wholly\nwith it; yet it is equally true that his artistic product, which\nreproduces this world, is throughout the _free creation_ of himself.\nIn this connection we shall do well to recall that fine expression of\nHerodotus: \"Homer and Hesiod have created the gods of the Hellenic\nrace.\" And, in truth, this free and audacious spirit of creation,\nwhich Herodotus attaches to the abovementioned poets, already is\nsome testimony to the fact that although the Epop\u0153a belongs to the\nearly age of a nation, it is not its function to depict the most\nprimitive condition of all. In other words, every nation possesses\nin its earliest origins more or less an alien culture of some kind,\nis confronted with a religious cult of foreign importation to which\nit submits, or which it regards as sacrosanct. And, indeed, we find\nthat the minstrelsy, the superstition, the barbarous elements in\nhuman life, no less than the most exalted have their source just in\nthis, that instead of being entirely at home with themselves, they\nare experienced as something aloof from themselves, that is not the\nnatural product of their own national and individual consciousness.\nIn this way, for example, the Hindoos must certainly, long before\nthe date of their great Epopees, have experienced many an important\nrevolution of religious beliefs and secular condition. The Greeks no\nless, as previously remarked, had to transform much material of an\nEgyptian, Phrygian, and Asiatic descent. The Romans, in their turn,\nwere confronted with much of a Greek origin; and the barbarians, in\nthe period of national invasion, with Christian or Roman antecedents,\nand so on. Not until the poet is able with a free hand to cast from\nhim such a yoke, is able to take stock of what he really possesses,\nis conscious of his own worth, and we are thereby released from all\nperturbed state of mental vision, will the dawn break of a genuine\nepic creation. In contrast to such an outlook we have the age and the\nsociety modified by a cult abstract in its origin, with its elaborate\ndogmas, established political and moral maxims, all of which take us\naway from the concrete life at home with itself. The world of the truly\nepic poet maintains its opposition to such conditions. Not merely in\nrespect to universal forces, passions, and aims which are operative\nin the soul-life of individuals, but also in such a poet's attitude\nto all external facts, be his creation never so independent, he is\nentirely as one in his own province. In just this way Homer is at home\nin all that he sings to us of his world, and where we are conscious\nof such intimacy in another we are infected with a like feeling, for\nwe are here face to face with truth, with that spirit which lives in\nits world, and discovers therein its true being; and it does us good\nto feel this, inasmuch as the poet is himself present therein heart\nand soul. Such a world may, indeed, belong to a less advanced stage\nof evolution and culture than our own; but at least it does remain\nfaithful to that of a poetry and beauty which is open to all, so\nthat we essentially recognize and understand here everything which\nour higher life, our humanity in its fundamental demands, whether\nit be the honour, the opinions, the emotions, the exhortation, or\nthe exploits of each and every hero; and we are able to enjoy such\ncharacters, in all the detail of their portraiture, as themselves\nunited to such a life and the richness of its actual presence.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) But on account of the emphasis upon the objective independence\nof this whole, it is a further necessary contrast that the poet fall\ninto the background and become lost in his _subject_. What is to\nappear is the creation, not the poet; and yet withal, that which the\npoem expresses belongs to him. He has imagined all in his mind's eye;\nhe has implanted there his soul, his genius. All this, however, is\nnot expressly asserted. So we find, for instance, that at one time a\nCalchas will give the outline of events; at another, a Nestor. Yet, for\nall that, such interpretative matter is the gift of the poet himself.\nNay, actual changes in the soul-life of his heroes he explains in\nobjective fashion as an entrance of gods upon the scene, as in the\ncase where Athene appears before Achilles in his rage, counselling\nself-restraint. And inasmuch as the Epos does not disclose the\nsoul-life of the creator, save indirectly, but the positive facts of\nexternal life, the subjective aspect of his creations must completely\nfall into the background, no less than the creator himself vanish\nbehind the world he unfolds to our vision. From this point of view a\ngreat epic style makes the work appear to be itself its own minstrel.\nIt seems to pass before us self-begotten, a work of independent birth.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Moreover, the epic poem, if a true work of art, is the exclusive\ncreation of _one_ artist. However much an epic may express the affairs\nof the entire nation, it remains the fact that it is the individual\nwho is the poet, not the nation as a whole. The spirit of an age, of\na people, is no doubt the essential operative cause; but realization\nis only secured in the work of art as conceived by the constructive\ngenius of a _particular_ poet, who brings before our vision and\nreproduces this universal spirit and its content as his own experience\nand his own product. Poetical composition is a real spiritual birth,\nand spirit or intelligence only exist as this or that actual and\nindividual conscious and self-conscious life. When we have already an\nartistic creation in a particular style,[2] we have no doubt something\nto start from; and others are then able to copy with more or less\nsuccess something like it, just as we have to listen nowadays to some\nscores of poems written in the Goethesque manner. To continue to\nsing many compositions in the same kind of key, however, will never\ncreate the unified creation, which is throughout the work of _one_\ninspiring genius. This is a point of real importance not only in our\nattitude to the Homeric poems, but also the Niebelungen Lied. For the\nlast-mentioned work we are unable to determine an author with any\nhistorical certainty; and as for the Iliad and Odyssey, the opinion\nof some critics is notorious that the Homer of tradition--that is,\nthe sole author of these books--never existed at all. They are the\nproduction in different parts of various authors, parts which have\nfinally been patched together in the two larger works we possess. With\nregard to such a theory the question of most importance is whether\neither or both of these extant works constitute an independent organic\nwhole in the epic sense, or, as is the view fashionable nowadays,\nthey possess no inevitable beginning or conclusion, but rather might\nbe continued on present lines for ever. We may, of course, admit that\nthe unity of the Homeric poems is, as part of their essential form,\nless compact than that we associate with the terse concentration of a\ndramatic work. Inasmuch as every separate portion may be and may appear\nas relatively independent, they give free play to many interpolations\nand abrupt transitions; but, despite of this, they do unquestionably\nconstitute throughout a true, ideally organic, and epic totality. Such\na whole can only be the composition of _one_ author. This notion of\na conglomerate without essential unity, of a mere patching together\nof various rhapsodies composed in a similar strain, is a wild sort of\nidea opposed to all artistic canons. Of course, if such a view merely\namounts to this, that the poet, in his bare individuality, vanishes\nin his creation, it is the highest form of praise. This is merely a\nstatement that we are unable to recognize any positive traces of wholly\npersonal opinions and feeling. So much is certainly true of the Homeric\npoems. What we have before us, and we have only this, is the positive\nfact, the objective outlook of a people. But the song of a people\nrequires a voice, a voice which can sing forth the contents of heart\nand soul, as harvested from the national granary; and an essentially\nself-integrated work of art calls for yet more than this from the\n_unique_ genius of its creator.\n\n\n\n\n2. PARTICULAR CHARACTERISTICS OF THE GENUINE EPOS\n\n\nWe have previously in our consideration of the general character of\nepic poetry briefly drawn attention to certain incomplete types, which,\nalthough of an epical strain, are not epopees in their completeness.\nThey, in short, neither represent a national condition, nor a concrete\nevent, within the boundaries of such a sphere. It is these latter\nfeatures, which were then excluded, which offer us for the first time\na content wholly equal to the perfected Epos, whose fundamental traits\nand conditions are thus stated.\n\nHaving recalled these points it becomes necessary now to investigate\nmore closely what it is we require by way of completing our notion\nof the epic work of art. We are, however, on the threshold of this\nenquiry confronted with the difficulty that we have little or nothing\nto say on features of specific interest, if we confine our attention\nto generalities; Ave must rivet our attention on historical evidence,\nand those varied epic and national compositions, works which on account\nof the extraordinary diversity of the times and peoples to which they\nrefer do not make us very hopeful of securing either a definite or a\ncongruous result. We find, however, some compensation in the fact, that\nfrom among all the many epic bibles of the past we can place our finger\non one at least, in which we have the clearest evidence of all which it\nis possible to establish as the true and fundamental character of the\ngenuine epos. Such are the Homeric poems. These, then, above all, will\nbe the source from which I shall borrow the characteristics, which,\nin my view, essentially determine the nature of such poetry, whether\nfrom the point of view of fact or theory. We propose to summarize our\nenquiry under the following heads:\n\n_First_, we have to deal with the question, of what structure _the\ngeneral_ world condition ought to be, on the basis of which the epic\nevent is permitted to receive an adequate reproduction.\n\n_Secondly,_ we shall investigate the quality of this specific type of\nhistorical event itself.\n\n_Lastly_, we shall direct attention to the form in which these two\naspects of our subject-matter coalesce and are completed in the unity\nof a single work of art, that is, in the epic poem.\n\n(_a_) _The General World-condition of the Epic Poem_\n\nWe have already, when Ave started on this subject, seen that it is not\na single isolated action which is accomplished in the true epic event;\nthe subject of the narrative is not, in short, a wholly accidental\noccurrence, but an action which is dove-tailed into the entire\ncomplexus of a particular age and national circumstances, which in\nconsequence can only be placed before us with success as a constituent\npart of an extensive world, demanding as it does the reflection of such\na world in its entirety. In respect to the actual poetical content of\nthis background I shall be brief, inasmuch as I have already indicated\nthe fundamental points of interest when, in the first part of this\nwork, I discussed the general world-condition which the ideal action\npresupposed. In the present context therefore I shall restrict myself\nto the question what is of most importance to the Epos simply.\n\n(_\u03b1_) That which is most adapted, as the all-embracing condition of\nhuman society, to form the background of the Epos consists in this,\nthat it already possesses for particular individuals the form of a\npositive condition actually present, and yet continues with them in\nclosest association with the simplicity of primitive life. For if the\nheroes who are placed as the crowning fact of all, are first to found a\ncollective condition the determination of what is or ought to come into\nexistence falls into the more personal sphere of character to a greater\nextent than is compatible with the nature of the Epos, and therewith\nall appearance of the same as objective reality is impossible.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The relations of ethical life, the aggregate of the family, of\nthe people regarded as a complete nation, not merely with a view to\nwar, but also in their peaceful security, must have become a positive\nfact in their evolution; yet along with this their organization cannot\nas yet have assumed the settled form of co-ordinate regulations,\nobligations, and laws independent in their validity of the direct\npersonal and private activities of individuals, and possessive of the\npower to maintain themselves against such particular wills. Rather it\nis the _intuitive sense_ of right and fairness, the moral habit, the\ntemperament, the personality, which supply the support, as they are\nthe source, of such a social order; we have, in short, no theoretic\nintelligence in its precipitated form of prosaic reality able to\nestablish and secure such a resistance to the heart, the opinions and\npassions of individuals. We may dismiss the thought that a community\nwith a fully organized constitution and an elaborate system of law,\njudicial courts, government officials and police, would supply the\nenvironment of a really epic action.[3] The conditions of positive\nmorality must, no doubt, be present in the general will and conduct,\nbut the instruments of its realization can only be the action and\npersonality of individuals, and a determinate mode of its existence, of\nuniversal application and independent stability, is necessarily absent.\nWe find, in short, in the Epos no doubt the substantive reciprocity\nof objective life and action, but we find no less a freedom in this\nworld of life and action, which has all the appearance of originating\nexclusively from the isolated volition of individuals.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The same considerations apply to the relation of the individual\nto the _natural_ environment, from which he borrows the means to\n_satisfy_ his wants, no less than discovers the best way to do so.\nIn this respect, too, I would refer the reader back to what I have\nobserved at greater length, when discussing the external definition of\nthe Ideal.\n\nWhat mankind requires in its external life, house and farm, tent,\nsettle, bed, sword, lance, the ship, in which he crosses the sea, the\nchariot, which bears him into battle, his soup, his roast of meat, and\ndrink--not one of these things need perforce become to him a lifeless\ninstrument; he ought still to communicate to the same something of his\nentire life and substance, his essential self, and thereby leave the\nstamp of his own human individuality, by his active association on that\nwhich is otherwise wholly external. Our present life with its machinery\nand factory-made products, no less than the kind of way we seek to\nsatisfy generally the needs of our external life, is in this respect\nquite as much as that of our political organization, wholly unfit to\nform the background which the Epos in its primitive guise demands. For\njust as the scientific faculty with its generalizations, its imperious\nconclusions, delivered independently of all personal views, can never\nhave asserted its claim under the world-condition of the poetic type\nwe are considering, so, too, we may assume that man did not yet appear\ndivested of his vital connection with Nature, and the fresh and\nvigorous comradeship, whether as friends or opponents, which is therein\nimplied.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Such is the world-condition which, in a previous passage, and\nin contrast to the idyllic, I have called the _heroic._ We find it\ndepicted in Homer with the noblest poetry, and with all the wealth\nof entirely human characterization. We have no more here, whether in\ndomestic or public life, a barbarous state of things, than we have\nthe wholly conventional prose of a regulated family and political\norganization; what we do find is that primitive mean of poetry much\nas I have already described it. A fundamental feature in such a\ncondition is unquestionably the free individuality of all the principal\npersonages. In the Iliad, for example, Agamemnon is, no doubt, a\nking of kings--all other chieftains are subject to his sceptre--but\nhis superiority is no merely formal mutual relation of command and\nsubmission of the lord, that is, to his vassals. On the contrary,\nmuch circumspection is required of him; he must be shrewd enough\nto know where he ought to give way, for each particular chieftain\nis independent even as himself; they are not merely governors or\ngenerals summoned by him. They have assembled around him of their\nown free will, or are induced to follow his lead in a variety of\nways. He must take counsel with them; and if they disagree with his\njudgment they are at liberty, as Achilles did, to remain aloof from\nthe battle. It is this freedom of acceptance, no less than this free\nright to assert disapproval, which secures the absolute independence\nof such individuality, and attaches its poetical atmosphere to every\nsituation. We find much the same thing in the poetry of Ossian, as also\nin the relation of the Cid to the princes, whom this poetical hero of\nromantic and national chivalry serves as vassal. In Ariosto and Tasso\nthis free relation is still unimpaired; and indeed in Ariosto the\nindividual heroes set forth in practically unqualified independence on\ntheir own path of adventure. And the mass of the folk stand in much the\nsame relation to their leaders as that of the separate chieftains to\nAgamemnon. These too follow voluntarily. There is still no paramount\nlegal obligation by which they are constrained. Honour, reverence,\nhumility in the presence of men more mighty than themselves, ever able\nto enforce that might, the imposing presence of the heroic character\nin short and all it implies, such are the essential grounds of their\nobedience. The order of domestic life is maintained in a similar way.\nIt is not enforced as an accepted rule of service, but as dependent\non personal inclination or ethical habit. All is made to appear as\nthough it had grown up spontaneously. Homer, for example, tells us of\nthe Greeks, when narrating one of their battles with the Trojans, that\nthey had lost many valiant fighters, but not so many as the Trojans;\nand the reason given is that they were always mindful to ward off from\none another the extreme of necessity. In other words, they assisted\neach other. And if we, in our own days, had occasion to define the\ndifference between a well-disciplined and an uncivilized army we\ncould not express it more directly than by laying stress on this very\ncoherence and spirit of cameraderie, this unity enforced by all in\na felt association, which distinguished the former. Barbarians are\nsimply human mobs, in which no individual can rely on his neighbour.\nWhat, however, in our modern example, being as it is the final result\nof a stringent and tedious military discipline, rather appears as the\nexercise and command of an established regime, in Homer's case is still\nan ethical habit asserted of its own accord, springing from the vital\nstrength of the individual in his private capacity.\n\nWe may explain in a similar way Homer's great variety in his\ndescriptions of Nature and external condition. In the prose romances of\nour own day we do not find much stress laid on the natural aspects of\nthings. Homer, on the contrary, gives us every detail in his portrayal\nof a staff, sceptre, bedstead, armour, clothing, doorpost; he does\nnot even omit to mention the hinges on which the door turns. Such\nthings appear to us wholly outside our attention and insignificant; or\nrather we may say that it is the tendency of our education to affect\nan extremely severe superiority to a whole number of objects, matters,\nand expressions, and we deliberately classify in their claim to our\nnotice such things as various kinds of dress, furniture, implements,\nand so on. Add to this the fact that in our day all the means supplied\nor prepared for the satisfaction of our wants are so split up into\nevery kind of machinery product from work-shop and factory, we come\nto regard the medley of supply as something beneath us, neither\ndeserving enumeration or respectful attention. The heroic existence\nis, on the contrary, confronted with a primitive simplicity of objects\nand inventions; it readily lingers on their description. All these\npossessions are, in short, regarded as of one standard of value, as\nchattels or instruments in which man still discovers evidence of his\ncraftsmanship, his positive wealth and interest whereof he may be\njustly proud. His entire life is not abstracted from such material\nthings, nor exclusively occupied with a purely intellectual sphere.\nTo slaughter oxen and prepare their flesh for the table, to pour out\nwine and things of that sort are part of the heroic life, carried out\nwith purpose and delight; with us a meal, if it is not to be a very\ncommonplace affair, must not merely carry with it something of the\nculinary art, but is incomplete without really good conversation.\nHomer's detailed descriptions in these matters must not therefore be\nlooked upon as a purely poetical embellishment of things of little\nmoment; such a copious attention is nothing more or less than the\nactual spirit of the men and circumstances depicted. We find just the\nsame prolixity of speech on external things in the case of our own\npeasants; and for that matter do not the dandies of our own day dilate\nwithout limit upon their stables, horses, top-boots, spurs, pants, and\nthe like. In contrast to a life of profounder intellectual interest\nsuch things will doubtless appear somewhat jejune.\n\nSuch a world ought not merely to embrace the _limited_ universality\nof the particular event, which occurs on the _definite_ background\npresupposed; it must coalesce in its expansion with the _entire\nhorizon_ of the national vision. We have a supremely fine example of\nthis in the Odyssey, which not only brings us into contact with the\ndomestic life of the Greek chieftains, their servants and subordinates,\nbut also unfolds the richest variety with its tales of the many\nopinions of foreign peoples, the hazards of sea-life, the dwellings\nof distant lands, and so forth. But in the Iliad also, though the\nnature of its subject restricts to some extent the horizon of our\nvision, and not unnaturally on its battle-fields has comparatively\nlittle to tell us of more tranquil scenes, Homer, at least, has on the\nshield of Achilles managed in a wonderful way to give us a view of\nthe entire compass of terrestrial existence, no less than human life,\nin marriages, judicial affairs, agriculture, the might of armies, the\nprivate wars of cities, and much else. And these descriptions we 'shall\ndo well not to regard as a wholly incidental feature of the poem. In\ncontrast to such a treatment the poems we identify with the name of\nOssian introduce us to a world that is too limited and indefinite. It\nhas for this very reason rather a lyrical character; and as for Dante\nwe may say that his angels and devils inhabit no truly positive world\nopen to our detailed approach; it exists solely as instrumental to\nthe final fruition or due punishment of mankind. And above all in the\nNibelungenlied the absence is complete of any definite realization of\na visible world or environment, so that the narrative tends in this\nrespect to assume the strain or tone of the mere balladsinger. The\nnarrative is, no doubt, diffusive enough; but it is all much as if\nsome journeyman had picked it up first as gossip, and then retailed\nit as such afterwards. We are not brought to close quarters with the\nfacts, but are merely made aware of the impotence and tedious effort\nof the poet. This wearisome expanse of poetical debility becomes of\ncourse even more pronounced in the Book of Heroes, until finally the\nwhole business is handed over to the true poetical journeyman, in other\nwords, the Master singers.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Furthermore, for the reason that the Epos has to embody in art a\nspecific world, in all its separate characteristics carefully defined,\none, in short, for this reason itself essentially individual, the\nmirror of such a world must be that of a one _particular_ people.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In this respect all truly primitive Epopees present to our view\na national spirit in the ethical structure of its family life, its\npublic dispositions in times of peace or war, its wants, arts, usages,\nand interests--in a word, a picture of the relative type and stage\nof the national consciousness. What the epic poem reveres more than\nanything else, observes most narrowly, that which, as previously\nnoted, it expatiates upon, is the power to let our inward eye see as\nin a mirror the individual genius of nations. We have presented us,\nas the result of such a gallery, the world-history itself, and what\nis more, we have it in its beautiful, free, and emphasized vitality,\nmanifestation, and deed. From no source, either so impregnate with life\nor simplicity, can we, for example, better understand the Hellenic\nspirit and Greek history, or at least grasp the principle of that\ncontent, which this people embodied, and which it brought with it when\nit first set forth to engage in the conflict of its wholly authentic\nhistory, than from this of the poet Homer.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Now the national substance in its realization is of a _twofold_\nnature. First, we have an entirely _positive_ world of specialized\nusage or custom peculiar to the nation in question, a definite period\nof history, a definite environment, whether geographical in its\nstreams, hills and forests, or in its climatic situation. Secondly,\nwe have that ideal _substance_ of its spiritual life, whether in\nthe religious sphere, the family or the community generally. If\nthus an Epos of the primitive type is, under the conditions already\nindicated, to be and remain a permanently effective bible, the\nnation's Book, in that case that which is positive in the reality\nof the Past can only claim such a continuously vital interest in so\nfar as the characteristic features accepted are placed in an ideal\nconnection with the actually substantive aspects and tendencies of the\nnational life. Otherwise what claims to be of positive value will be\nentirely contingent and a matter of indifference. Native geographical\nconditions, for instance, enter into the conception of nationality. But\nif they do not confer on a folk its specific character, the addition of\nother natural environment, provided that does not contradict national\ncharacter, is not in certain cases prejudicial to the effect, but may\neven prove attractive to the imagination. No doubt the sensitive\nexperience of youth is interwoven with the immediate presence of its\nnative hills and streams; but where the deeper bonds of the entire\nspiritual outlook are absent, such an association assumes a more or\nless external character. And, apart from this, where we have, as in\nthe Iliad, a warlike expedition, it is impossible to preserve the\n_locale_ of the fatherland. In such a case the scenery of a foreign\nland in itself fascinates and attracts. The enduring vitality of an\nEpos is, however, more seriously impaired, where, in the course of\ncenturies, the spiritual consciousness and life has so entirely changed\nthat the links between the more recent Past and the original point of\ndeparture already adverted to are completely severed. This is actually\nthe case with the poet Klopstock in another province of poetry, where\nhe attempts to establish a national religion, and, in order to do\nso, gives us his Hermann and Thusnelda. We may affirm the same kind\nof defect of the Nibelungenlied. The Burgundians, the revenge of\nChriemhilda, the exploits of Siegfried, the entire social condition,\nthe fated downfall of an entire race and many like facts--all this is\nno longer vitally held together with the domestic, civil, and judicial\nlife, the institutions and constitutions of the present day. The\nbiography of Jesus Christ, with its Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Roman\njurisdiction, even the Trojan war itself, come home to ourselves far\nmore nearly than the events of the Niebelungen; the latter are for\npresent consciousness a state of things wholly gone for ever, swept\naway once and for all with a besom. To attempt to compose of such\nsomething of national significance, to say nothing of a national bible,\nbetokens the extreme limit of folly and superficiality. In times when\nit was rashly[4] assumed that the flame of youthful enthusiasm had\nflashed up anew, such a conceit was taken as a proof of the sere leaf\nof an age once more become childlike in the approach of death; and it\nrefreshed itself with a past that was dead, and deemed it possible to\nassociate others with a similar refreshment and renewed presence.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) If, however, a national Epos is to secure in addition the\npermanent interest of foreign nations the world which it depicts must\nnot merely be of a _particular_ nationality, but of a type that is, in\nthis specific folk, its heroism and exploits, equally impressed with\nthe stamp of our common humanity. In the poems of Homer, for example,\nthe superb directness with which he deals with matters of divine or\nethical import, the nobility of the characters and of everything living\ntherein embraced, the pictorial quality of their presentment to the\nreader, all this insures an undying truth for succeeding ages. In this\nrespect we find a remarkable contrast in the creation of different\npeoples. We cannot deny, for instance, that the Ramajana reflects\nwith the essential directness of life the national spirit of the\nHindoos, more particularly from the religious point of view; but the\ncharacter of the entire Hindoo race is so overpoweringly of a unique\ntype, that the essential features of our common humanity are unable to\nassert themselves through the veil of this national idiosyncracy. A\nremarkable contrast to this is the way in which the entire Christian\nworld, from the earliest times, has found itself at home in those epic\npassages of Old Testament narrative, above all in the pictures of the\npatriarchal state, and able to repicture for itself to the life the\nevents portrayed over and over again with the greatest enjoyment. The\ntestimony of Goethe is unequivocal. Here was the _one_ focal centre,\nhe assures us, on which, in his young days, amid much that he learned\nof a miscellaneous and unconnected character, his intellect no less\nthan feeling concentrated itself. Even in later life he still remarks\nupon them that \"after all our wanderings through the East we always\nreturned in the end to these writings as the most invigorating spring\nof waters: here and there they might be troubled; not unfrequently they\nhid themselves in the earth; but it was only to rise up again pure and\nfresh as ever.\"\n\n(_\u03b3_) _Finally_, the general condition of a particular people must\nnot in this tranquil universality of its individual character wholly\noust what is more directly the object of the Epos, in other words, be\ndescribed with no reference to that. It ought only to appear as the\n_foundation_, upon which an event throughout its entire process is\ntransacted, one which is in contact with all aspects of the national\nlife, and one which illustrates the same as it proceeds. Such an\neventuality must not be a purely external incident; it must imply a\ndeliberately conceived purpose executed by equally deliberate effort.\nIf, however, these two aspects, namely, the general condition and the\nparticular action, do not coalesce, then the event in question must\nseek its justification in the particular circumstances, the causal\nconditions which dominate its movement. That is practically to say the\nworld of Epos which is reproduced must be conceived under a specific\nsituation which is so concrete that the definite objects which it is\nthe function of the epic narrative to realize, are necessarily made\nexplicit by it. We have already, when discussing the ideal action,[5]\npointed out on general lines that this realization presupposes\nsituations and circumstances which bring about collisions, actions\nthat do injury and consequently necessary reactions. The particular\nsituation, therefore, in which the epic world-condition of a nation\nis made actual to us, must of itself be essentially one implying such\n_collisions._ In this respect, therefore, epic poetry enters the field\nalready occupied by dramatic poetry; and we may find it convenient at\nonce to determine in what respects the collisions of these two types of\npoetry differ.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Under the broadest review of this question we may say that the\nconflict of the _belligerent_ condition is that which supplies the\nEpos with its most pertinent situation. In war it is obviously the\nentire nation which is set in activity, and which, as a whole placed\nunder similar conditions, is moved and stimulated in a novel way,\nin so far at least as it possesses any claim, as such a whole, to\nparticipate in it. We may admit that the above conclusion stands in\napparent contradiction not merely with Homer's Odyssey, but also the\nsubject-matter of many poems that are epic in an otherwise intelligible\nsense. It finds, however, ample corroboration in the majority of the\nmost famous Epopees. Moreover, the collision of operations in the\nevents of which the Odyssey informs us, derives part of its source\nfrom the Trojan war; and even under the aspect of domestic life in\nIthaca, no less than that of the home-returning Odysseus, although the\nnarrative is no actual account of conflicts between Greeks and Trojans,\nyet it deals with facts which are the immediate consequence of that\nwar. Nay, it is itself war under a new aspect, for many chieftains are\nforced to reconquer their homes, which after their ten years' absence\nthey find under wholly altered conditions. We have practically but one\nexample of the religious Epos, Dante's \"Divine Comedy.\" Even here,\ntoo, the fundamental collision is deducible from that original Fall of\nthe evil angels from heaven, which brings in its train and within the\nsphere of human experience the ever active external and ideal conflict\nbetween the Divine Father and the conduct of men, whether hostile or\nwell-pleasing to Him, a conflict eternally perpetuated in condemnation,\npurification, and blessedness, or in other words, hell, purgatory, and\nparadise. Also, too, in the Messias it is the former war against the\nSon of God which supplies the focal centre. At the same time the most\nvital and truly pertinent examples are those which actually describe\nthe belligerent state. We have already drawn attention to such in the\nRamajana, and, most instructive of all, in the Iliad; further examples\nare the famous poems of Ossian, Tasso, Ariosto, and Camoens. In war\n_courage_ is and remains the fundamental interest; and warlike courage\nis a state of the soul and an activity, which is neither so suitable\nfor lyrical expression nor for dramatic action, but is pre-eminently\nadapted to the descriptive power of the Epos. In dramatic poetry it is\nrather the ideal strength or weakness of spiritual life, the ethically\njustified or reprehensible pathos which is the main thing: in the\nEpos, on the contrary, it is rather the native characteristics of a\npersonality. For this reason, where it is national exploits which are\nundertaken, bravery is in its right place; it is in fact not an ethical\nstate,[6] in which the will is determined through its own initiative\nas an intelligent consciousness and volition. It rather depends on\nnatural temperament, unites in direct equilibrium, as by fusion, with\nthe sphere of self-conscious life, and, in order to bring into effect\npractical ends, which can be more fitly expressed in epic description\nthan under the conceptions of lyrical emotion and reflection. And\nthese conclusions with regard to bravery in war apply with equal force\nto the exploits of war and their consequences. The activities of\npersonal volition and the accidents of the external event supply the\ntwo scales of the balance. The bare event, with its wholly material\nobstructions, is excluded from the drama, inasmuch as here what is\nexclusively external is not permitted to retain an independent right,\nbut is causally related to the aim and ideal purposes of individuals,\nso that as to all contingent matter, if by any chance it appears to\narise and to determine the result, we are none the less compelled to\nlook for the real operative cause and justification thereof in the\nspiritual nature of human character and its objects, no less than in\nthat of its collisions and their necessary resolution.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) A basis of the epic action such as this of active hostilities\nis obviously the source of a very varied subject-matter. We may have\nplaced before the imagination a host of interesting actions and events,\nin which bravery in action supplies the leading r\u00f4le, and the claim\nof external forces, whether asserted in circumstance or incident, is\nmaintained unimpaired. At the same time we must not overlook a respect\nin which the possibilities of epic narration is essentially restricted.\nIt is only wars waged between one foreign nation and another which\npartake of a truly epic character. In contrast to this conflicts\nbetween dynasties, civil wars and social revolution, are more suited\nto dramatic exposition. And in fact Aristotle long ago[7] advises\nthe tragic poet to select subject-matter which is concerned with the\nconflicts of brother against brother. Of this type is the war of the\nSeven against Thebes. It is Thebes' own son who storms the city; and\nits defender is the actual brother of the aggressor. Hostility of\nthis type is something more than that of a mere foe; its significance\nis bound up with the individuality of the opposed brothers. We have\nsimilar examples with every kind of variety in Shakespeare's historical\ntragedies. In these, almost without exception, agreement between\nparticular individuals is what might be legitimately looked for, and\nit is only the private motives of individual passion and a personality\nabsorbed in its own aims and satisfaction which bring about collisions\nand wars. As an example of an action of this kind treated in the epic\nmanner, and therefore defectively, I will mention the \"Pharsalia\" of\nLucan. However indisputably important the conflicting aims in this\npoem may appear to be, yet for all that the opposing parties are here\ntoo closely related on the common ground of one fatherland: their\nconflict, consequently, instead of being a war between two national\nentities, is nothing more than a strife of parties, either of which,\nby the very fact that it splits asunder the substantive national\nunity, points in one direction, namely, that of tragic guilt and\ndemoralization. Held to this the objective facts are not placed before\nus in their clearness and simplicity, but are inweaved with one another\nin a confused manner. The same objections are equally pertinent to\nVoltaire's Henriad. In contrast to this the hostility of _foreign_\nnations is something substantive. Every nation constitutes a totality\nessentially distinct from and in opposition to that of another. When\nthese come into conflict we do not feel that any positive ethical\nconnection is shattered, nothing at least of essential value to either\nis violated,[8] no necessary whole broken into fragments. Rather it is\na conflict waged in order to maintain such a totality unimpaired and to\njustify its claim to be so. Hostility therefore of this type is suited\nin every way to the essential character of epic poetry.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Not every war, however, waged under ordinary conditions\nbetween two hostile nations is necessarily on that account of an epic\ncharacter. We must have a further condition satisfied, namely, the\njustification on broad historical grounds for the bellicose attitude\nthus adopted. Only when we have this do we obtain a picture of an\nenterprise at once novel and more exalted, which does not present\nthe appearance of something apart from universal history, the purely\ncapricious subjugation of one state by another, but is absolutely and\nessentially rooted in a profounder principle of necessity, however\nmuch at the same time the more superficial and obvious motive of\nthe undertaking may assume from one point of view the aspect of\ndeliberate wrong,[9] and from the other that of a private revenge.\nWe have something analogous to such a situation in the Ramajana. But\nthe supreme example is that of the Iliad, where the Greeks invade an\nAsiatic people, and in doing so fight out as it were the preludic\nconflict of a tremendous opposition, the wars of which practically\nconstitute the turning point of Greek history as we see it on the\nstage of universal history. Of the same type is the struggle of the\nCid against the Moors, or in Tasso and Ariosto the battles of the\nChristians against the Saracens, or in Camoens the strife of the\nPortuguese against the Indians. And indeed we may assert that in all\nthe greatest Epopees we find nations which differ from each other in\nmoral customs, religion, and language, in a word, in all that concerns\ntheir spiritual and external life, brought into collision; and we are\nready to contemplate such without any revulsion on account of the\ntriumph we find asserted there of a nobler principle of world-evolution\nover a less exalted, a victory assured by a bravery that is simply\nannihilating. If any one should, in this sense, and in emulation of\npast Epopees, which have sought to depict the triumph of the West over\nthe East, of the European principle of moderation, of the individually\narticulate and truly organic type of beauty over Asiatic splendour,\nover the magnificence of a patriarchal unity, which does not attempt to\nsecure such organic completeness, or is at least merely held together\nby abstract and superficial conjunctions, if such, I say, should aspire\nto write the Epopee of the future, he will be necessarily restricted\nto the portrayal of the victory of some future and intensely vital\nrationality of the American nation over the prison-house of the spirit\nwhich for ever pursues its monotonous task of self-adjustment and\nparticularization.[10] In the Europe of our day every nation finds\nitself conditioned[11] by its neighbour, and cannot venture on its own\naccount to wage any war with another European nation. If we lift our\neyes beyond Europe, there can be only one direction, America.\n\n(_b_) _The Individual Epic Action_\n\nIt is on such an essentially limited foundation then of conflict\nbetween entire nationalities that the epic event is realized, the\nleading characteristics of which we have now to determine. We may\nsummarize the form we propose our investigation should take as follows:\n\n_First_, what actually takes place consists essentially in this that\nthe object of the epic action ought necessarily to be of _individual\nvitality_ and definition, however much it may rest on a basis of the\nmost general extension.\n\n_Secondly_, for the reason that it is only of individuals that we can\npredicate actions we have the problem to solve of the general nature of\nthe epic _character_ or personality.\n\n_Thirdly_, in the epic eventuality the form of objectivity is not\nexclusively that of external appearance: it consists quite as much in\nthe significance of all that is itself intrinsically necessary to and\nsubstantive in the exposition. We have consequently to determine the\nform in which this intrinsic significance of the occurrence proclaims\nitself as effective, either in part as the ideal necessity which is\ntherein concealed, or as the disclosed direction[12] of eternal and\nprovidential forces.\n\n(_\u03b1_) We have postulated as a necessary background of this epic world\nan enterprise of national significance, in which the entire compass of\na national spirit can express itself in the bloom and freshness of its\nheroic condition. From this fundamental substratum in its simplicity\nwe now further assume the apparition of a _particular_ end, in the\nrealization of which all other aspects of the national character,\nwhether in belief or action, can be represented to our vision. The\noriginal postulate is in fact bound up in the closest way with such an\nall-embracing actuality.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) This purposed object, which is infused with the vital principle\nof individuality on the lines of which, regarded in its particularized\ncontent, the entire process moves forward, must further, as already\nascertained, appropriate to itself in the Epos the form of an _event_.\nIt will be therefore above all important to recall at once the specific\ncharacter of the mode, under which human volition and action generally\ncombine in what we designate as the event. Now, in the _first_ place,\naction and adventure are the outcome of conscious life, the content\nof which is not only ideally expressed in emotions, reflections, and\nthoughts, but also quite as much in a practical way. We may regard\nsuch realization from two distinct points of view. _First,_ we have\nthe ideal substance of the end presupposed and purposed, the general\ncharacter of which the individual must recognize, will, calculate and\naccept. _Secondly_, there is the external reality of the spiritual or\nhuman and the natural environment, within which he is only able to\nact, and the accidental features of which at one time obstruct and at\nanother assist his path; so that either in the one case he is carried\nforward by virtue of this favour to a successful issue, or, if in\nthe other he is not prepared wholly to give way to such opposition,\nhe finds it necessary to overcome them with his individual energy.\nIf now the world covered by this volitional power is conceived as\nthe indivisible unity of these two aspects, with the result that the\nright of assertion by both is equally asserted, in that case what\nis most pertinent to conscious life likewise enters into the formal\nstructure of the event, the form, that is, which confers on all human\naction the _configuration of events_, in so far as the conscious or\nsubjective will, with its purposes, motives of passion, principles\nand aims, can no longer appear the fact of most importance. Or, in\nother words, in human _action_ everything is referred back to human\npersonality, personal obligation, opinion and intention. In the case of\nthe _event_, on the contrary, the external constitution of things is\npermitted to assert its inviolable claim. Here it is objective reality\nitself, which constitutes either the form assumed by the whole, or from\nanother point of view a fundamental part of the content. In agreement\nwith such a view I have already stated that it is the function of epic\npoetry to demonstrate the _happening_ of an action, and thereby not\nonly to establish the external disposition of the execution of ends,\nbut also to meet as readily the claims of external condition, natural\noccurrences, and all else of a contingent character, which, in action\ntaken simply as such, the ideal element of conscious life claims\nexclusively as its province.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) With regard to the _particular_ end, the carrying out of which\nthe Epos unfolds under the mode of the event, it follows from our\nprevious conclusions that it must be no mere mental _abstraction_,\nbut on the contrary of wholly _concrete_ definition. At the same\ntime, inasmuch as it is realized within the substantive actuality of\nthe national unity, such a process must exclude the notion of merely\ncapricious activity. The political state as such--the fatherland,\nlet us say--or the history of a State and country, are essentially\nsomething universal, which, regarded in the light of such universality,\ndoes not appear under the mode of a subjectively individual existence,\nor, in other words, in inseparable and exclusive coalition with one\ndefinite living individual. For this reason the history of a country,\nthe development of its political life, its constitution and destiny\nmay also no doubt be narrated as event; if, however, the facts thus\ndescribed are not placed before us as the concrete deed, the conscious\naim, the passion, the suffering and accomplishment of particular\nheroes, whose individuality supplies the form and content of the\nrealization in all its parts, the event merely assumes the rigid\nform of its independent forward movement in the prosaic history of a\npeople or an empire. In this respect no doubt the most exalted action\nof Spirit would be the history of the world itself. We can conceive\nit possible that our poet might in this sense undertake to elaborate\nin what we may call the absolute Epos this universal achievement on\nthe battlefield of the universal spirit, whose hero would be the\nspirit of man, the _humanus_, who is drawn up and exalted from the\nclouded levels[13] of conscious existence into the clearer region of\nuniversal history. But in virtue of the very fact of its universality\na subject-matter of this kind would so be quite unfitted for artistic\ntreatment. It would not adapt itself sufficiently to individualization.\nFor on the one hand we fail altogether to find in such a subject a\nclearly fixed background and world-condition, not merely in relation to\nexternal _locale_, but also in that of morality and custom. In other\nwords, the only basis for all we could possibly presuppose would be the\nuniversal World-Spirit or intelligence, whom we are unable to bring\nvisibly before us as a particular condition, and who is possessed of\nthe entire Earth as his local environment. And in like manner too the\none end fulfilled in such an Epos could only be the end proposed by the\nWorld-Spirit himself,[14] who can only be apprehended and explicitly\ndisclosed in his true significance through the processes of thought. If\nhe is, however, to be represented in the form of poetry, or, at least,\nif the whole is to receive its proper meaning and coalescence from\nsuch a source, it is necessary that his presence should be expressed\nas that which acts independently from its own resources. This could\nonly be possible for poetry, in so far as the ideal Taskmaster of\nhistory, the eternal and absolute Idea, which is realized in humanity,\neither was envisioned as a directive, active, perfecting individual\nperson, or was merely made effective under the concealing veil of an\never-operative Necessity. In the first case, however, the infinity of\nsuch a content must shatter the necessarily limited artistic vessel\nof determinate individuality, or, as the only way of avoiding such a\ndefect, must assume the inadequate form of a dispassionate allegory\nof general reflections over the destination of the human race and its\neducation, over the final purpose of mankind, its moral consummation,\nor over whatever result the end of this World-history might establish.\nIn the alternative case it is the genius of the various peoples which\nhas in each example to be presented (in the heroic figure) in the\nconflicting existence of whom history expands and moves forward in\nprogressive evolution. If, however, the genius of nations is really\nto appear in poetical form this can be carried out in only one way,\nnamely, by placing before us the actual world-historical figures as\noperative through their deeds. We should, however, then merely have a\nseries of particular characters, which emerged and again disappeared in\na wholly external succession, the objects of which lacked individual\nunity and connection; and this would be so for the reason that the\ncontrolling World-Spirit, under our conception of it, as the ideal\nessence and destiny, could not, in the case supposed, be set forth as\nitself an active individual and the culminating agent in the process.\nAnd if, further, anyone was desirous of appropriating the spirits of\ndifferent nationalities in their universality, and of displaying them\nas agents in such a substantive form, we should still only have a\nsimilar series, the individuals whereof, apart from the fact that they\nwould merely possess an appearance of positive existence similar to\nHindoo incarnations, would, in the fictitious form of the imagination\nthey received pale into nothingness when contrasted with the truth of\nthe World-Spirit as realized in actual history.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) We may consequently lay it down as a general principle that the\nparticular epic event is only able to secure a vital form in poetry\nwhen it is united in the closest state of fusion with _one_ individual.\nPrecisely as it is _one_ poet who thinks out and executes the whole,\nso too _one_ individual must crown the edifice, with whom the event is\nassociated and in connection with whose single identity it is continued\nand completed.\n\nWe must point out, however, that here too we are limited by essential\nconditions. For just as in our previous discussion it was the\nworld-history, so too now, from the converse point of view, it is\npossible that the biographical treatment in a poetic composition of\na definite life-history may appear to supply the most complete and\nadequate subject-matter of the Epos. This, however, is not the case. No\ndoubt in biography the individual is one and the same throughout; but\nthe events, through which the life-development proceeds, may entirely\nfall apart, and only retain the subject of the same in a wholly formal\nand accidental bond of relation. If, on the other hand, the Epos is\nessentially homogeneous, the event also, in the form of which the\ncontent of the poem is disclosed, must itself possess intrinsic unity.\nBoth aspects, in short, the unity of the individual and that of the\nobjective event, as it is evolved, must coalesce and be united. In the\nlife and exploits of the Cid it is unquestionably true that on the\nfield of the Fatherland it is only one great personality which without\nintermission remains true to himself, and in his development, chivalry\nand end constitutes the interest. His deeds pass before him, much as if\nhe were the sculptured god; and finally all is gone and vanished for\nus, no less than for himself.[15] But the poems of the Cid are also as\nrhymed chronicles no genuine example of the Epos; and, in their later\nform of romances, they are, as their specific type necessitates, merely\nisolated situations split off from this national hero's life, which do\nnot necessarily coalesce in the unity of a particular event.\n\nThe finest examples, however, of the observance of the above rule\nare to be met with in the Iliad and Odyssey, where Achilles and\nOdysseus are respectively the prominent figures. The Ramajana, too,\nresembles these poems in this respect. Dante's \"Divine Comedy\" is an\nillustration, but in quite a unique way. In other words, it is the Epic\npoet himself with whose single personality, in his wanderings through\nhell, purgatory, and paradise, all and everything is so associated that\nhe is able to recount the picture of his imagination as a personal\nexperience, and is consequently entitled to interweave with the general\nsubstance of his composition his private emotions and reflections to a\nlarger extent than is possible for other epic poets.\n\n(_\u03b2_) However much then, speaking generally, epic poetry informs us\nof actual fact and its occurrence, and thereby makes the objective\nworld its content and form, yet on the other hand, inasmuch as what\nhappens is an _action,_ which passes in successive views before us,\nit is rather, and for this reason, to _individuals_, and their deed\nand suffering that the main emphasis is attached. For it is only\nindividuals, be they gods or men, who can veritably act; and just in\nproportion as they are interwoven in the vividness of life with such a\npanorama, to that extent they are entitled to attract the main interest\nto the fulness of their exposition. From this point of view epic poetry\nstands on level terms with lyric no less than dramatic poetry. It is\ntherefore of some importance that we attempt to define more closely\nwhat the _specific_ features are which distinguish the portrayal of\npersonality in the epic composition.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Now, first, what is essential to the objective aspect of an epic\ncharacter--I am speaking mainly of the leading personages--is that\nthey should be themselves essentially a _totality_ of such traits, in\nother words complete men, and thereby display in themselves all aspects\nof emotional life, or to put it better, should represent in a typical\nway, national opinion and its active pursuits. In this respect I have\nalready in the first part drawn attention to the heroic characters\nof Homer; and, in particular, to the variety of genuinely human and\ntruly national qualities which Achilles unites in himself so vitally,\nthe hero of the Odyssey supplying an admirable companion picture. The\nCid is similarly presented us with much variety of characterization\nand situation, as son, hero, lover, husband, father, householder, and\nin his relations to king, friends, and foes. Other Epopees of the\nMiddle Ages are a great contrast, far more abstract in their type of\npersonification, particularly so where their heroes merely champion the\ncause of chivalry as such, and are removed from the sphere of the true\nand actual life of the nation.\n\nIt is then the fundamental characteristic of the exposition of epic\npersonality that it should unfold itself as such a totality in the most\ndiverse scenes and situations. The characters of tragedy and comedy may\nno doubt also possess a similar wealth of ideality; for the reason,\nhowever, that in their case the sharp contrast between a pathos that is\nnever other than one-sided and a passion opposed to it is within very\ndefinable limits and ends the thing of most importance, such a varied\ncharacter is in part, where it is not entirely superfluous, at least\nmore in the nature of a prodigality which is incidental, and in part\nis also, as a rule, overpowered by the _one_ passion, its motives and\nethical considerations, and thus forced by the type of presentation\ninto the background. In the whole of the epic composition, on the\ncontrary, all aspects assert an equal right to assert themselves,\nand expand with freedom and breadth. That they should do so is\nindeed fundamental to the principle of epic composition; and from a\nfurther point of view the personality here, in virtue of the entire\nworld-condition he presupposes, possesses a right to be, and to make\nall that valid wherein his existence is realized, and for the good\nreason that he lives in an age to which precisely this _objective_\nbeing, this immediate individuality is appropriate. It is, of course,\nfor instance, quite possible for us, with regard to the wrath of\nAchilles, to point out, as moral reflection may suggest, the injury\nand loss which that wrath entailed, and therefrom to conclude that the\nsuperiority and greatness of Achilles is very appreciably removed from\nany approach to ideal perfection, whether as hero or man, having no\npower apparently on a single occasion to moderate his anger or exercise\nself-restraint. But for all that we do wrong in blaming Achilles. And\nthis is not because we may overlook the wrath in virtue of his other\ngreat qualities. Achilles is, in other words, simply nothing more or\nless than this portrait. So far as Epic poetry is concerned, that is\nthe end of the matter. The same observations apply to his ambition and\nhis love of glory. The main justification of these great characters\nis the energy of their achievement; they carry, in fact, a universal\nprinciple in their particularity. Conversely, ordinary morality tends\nto depreciate its native personality, and hold in reserve the resources\nof its life-force, and discovers its essential being in this attitude.\nWhat an astonishing self-esteem, for instance, an Alexander asserted\nover his friends and the life of I know not how many thousands.\nSelf-revenge, even traits of brutality, testify to an energy of the\nsame type in heroic times; and even in this respect Achilles, in his\nr\u00f4le of epic hero, has little to learn.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) And it is just on account of this fact that such preeminent\nfigures are complete individuals, who have in resplendent degree all\nthat concentrated in them which otherwise is diffused and separate in\nthe national character, and thereby are throughout great, free, and\nhumanly beautiful characters that they are rightly set in the chief\nplace; and we find that the event of most significance is inviolably\nlinked with such individuality. The nation is, as it were, focussed\nas a single living soul in them, and as such they fight out its main\nenterprise, and suffer the hazards of its resulting experience. In\nthis respect Gottfried von Bouillon, in Tasso's \"Jerusalem Liberated,\"\nis no such overpowering figure as Achilles, this typical youthful\nbloom and perfection of the entire Grecian host; nor is he even an\nOdysseus, although he is selected as the wisest, bravest, and most\njust of leaders to command the entire army. The Ach\u00e6ans are unable to\nwin a victory if Achilles stands aloof from the contest; it is he\nalone who, by means of his triumph over Hector, carries victory into\nTroy itself; and in the return home of Odysseus we find a mirror of\nthe return of all the Greeks from Troy, only with the difference that\nit is just in that which it is his destiny to endure we have placed\nexhaustively before our vision the entire compass of the sufferings,\nlife experience, and conditions which are implied in the whole\nsubject-matter. The characters of the drama, on the other hand, are not\nso represented as in themselves the absolute crowning point of all the\nrest, which becomes objective in and through them. They rather are set\nforth independently and for themselves in their purpose, which they\naccept as the outcome of their character, or as the result of definite\nprinciples which have grown up in conjunction with their more isolate\npersonality.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) There is a _third_ distinguishing feature in epic\ncharacterization due to the fact that the Epos does not portray\nan action simply as action, but an event. In drama the matter of\nimportance is that the individual manifests himself as operative for\nhis specific purpose, and is expressly represented in such activity and\nits consequences. This undeviating consideration for the realization\nof a distinct purpose is absent in the Epic. No doubt in this case,\ntoo, heroes have desires and aims, but the main thing here is all that\nthey may happen to experience while fulfilling it, not the nature of\ntheir conduct in the carrying it out. The circumstances are just as\nactive as themselves, frequently more active. The return to Ithaca,\nfor example, is the actual project of Odysseus. The Odyssey, however,\ndoes not merely display this character in the active execution of his\npredetermined end, but expands its account into all the variety of\noccurrence which he happens to experience in his wanderings, what he\nsuffers, what obstructions meet him in the way, what dangers he has to\novercome, and all, in fact, that moves him. And this varied experience\nis not, as would be necessary in the drama, a direct result of his\naction, but is in great measure rather incidental to his journey, in\nthe main even independent of the concurrent action of the hero. After\nhis adventures with the Lotophagi, Polyphemus, and the Laestrygones,\nthe godlike Circe detains him for a full year. Further, after he has\nvisited the lower world and suffered shipwreck, he dallies with\nCalypso, until he falls into home-sickness, wearies of the damsel, and\nstares with tearful eyes over the solitary sea. Thereupon it is Calypso\nherself who finally provides him with the means wherewith he builds\nhis boat, who provides him with food, wine and raiment, and takes her\nright anxious and kindly farewell of him. Finally, after his sojourn\namong the Ph\u00e6acians, he is carried in sleep--he knows not how--to the\nshores of his island. To carry out a purposed end in this sort of way\nwould not be possible for dramatic poetry. Again, in the Iliad, the\nwrath of Achilles, which, along with all else that results from this\ncompelling force, constitutes the specific object of the narrative, is\nthroughout not an end, but rather an emotional state. When Achilles is\ninsulted he rages. In this condition, so far from doing anything truly\ndramatic, he withdraws apart, does nothing with Patroclus by the ships\non the seashore, sullenly angry that he is not honoured by the lord of\nthe folk. Then follow the consequences of his retirement, and only at\nlast, when his friend has been slain by Hector, do we find Achilles\nonce more plunge into the conflict. In another way, again, is the end\nprescribed to \u00c6neas, which he has to carry out, where Virgil recounts\nall the events as the result of which its realization is in such varied\nways postponed.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We have just one further important feature to mention in respect\nto the form of the event in the Epos. I have already observed that\nin the drama the conscious will, and that which the same demands\nand wills, is essentially the determining factor, and constitutes\nthe permanent foundation of the entire presentation. All that is\ncarried out appears throughout as posited already by the personal\ncharacter and its aims; and the main interest above all turns upon the\njustification or its absence of what is done within the situations\npresupposed and the conflicts they bring about. If consequently it so\nhappens also that in the drama the external conditions are themselves\nactive, they nevertheless only retain their validity by virtue of\nthat which conscious feeling and volition makes of them, and the\nways and means under which character reacts upon them. In the Epos,\nhowever, the circumstances and external accidents are effective on\nlevel terms with the personal will itself. All that man accomplishes\npasses before us precisely as any other event of the world outside\nhim, so that the human exploit is in this case likewise and equally\nconditioned, and must be shown to be carried forward by the development\nof such an environment. The individual, in short, in epic poetry does\nnot merely act freely of himself and independently. He is placed in\nthe midst of an assemblage of facts, whose end and actuality in its\nwide correlation with an essentially unified world of conscious life\nor objective existence supplies the irremovable foundation of the\nlife of each separate individual. This typical system is, in fact,\npredominant in the Epos through all its content, whether in that of\npassion, determined result, or general achievement. It is true that\nat first sight we might expect that, on account of an equal cogency\nbeing accorded to external condition in its independent eventualities,\nwe should find indisputable opportunity given for every shade of\ncontingency. And yet we have seen that it is the function of the Epos\nto present what is truly objective--what is, in short, essentially\nsubstantive existence. The solution of this contradiction is to be\nfound in this, that the principle of _necessity_ is involved in the\nevents, whether taken in detail or generally.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In this connection we may affirm of the Epos--not, however, as\nis generally assumed of the drama--that _Destiny_ is a predominant\nforce. No doubt the dramatic character by the kind of end accepted,\nwhich he endeavours to carry out despite all obstruction under the\ncircumstances given and recognized, makes of _himself_ his Destiny;\nbut in the Epos, on the contrary, it is _made for him_, and this force\nof circumstances, which stamp their particular form on the deed,\napportions to each individual his lot, determines the result of his\nactions--is, in short, the genuine control of Destiny. What happens\nis appertinent to itself. It is so, and only thus; it is the fiat of\nnecessity. In lyric poetry we are conscious of emotion, reflection, the\npersonal interest, and yearning. The drama converts the ideal claim\nof human action into an objective presence. The presentation of epic\npoetry, on the other hand, moves, as it were, within the element itself\nof essentially necessary existence. Therefore, the individual has no\nchoice but to follow this particular substantive condition; and, in\nits process of being, to adapt himself to it or not, and then to suffer\nas he is able and is forced to suffer. Destiny, in short, defines what\nis and inevitably must be, and in the result success, misadventure,\nlife, and death are plastic precisely in the sense that individuals\nare plastic. What does actually unfold before us is a condition of\nuniversal expanse, in which the actions and destinies of mankind appear\nas something isolated and evanescent. This fatality is the great\njustice, and is not tragic in the dramatic sense of the term, in which\nthe individual appears judged as a _personality_, but in the epic sense\nin which judgment is passed on man in all that concerns him.[16] The\ntragic Nemesis consists in this, that the greatness of his concerns is\ntoo great for the individual concerned. Consequently a certain tone of\nsadness[17] prevails over the whole. What is most glorious is seen very\nearly to pass away. In the fulness of his life Achilles mourns over his\ndeath; and at the conclusion of the Odyssey we view him and Agamemnon\nas spirits that have passed away as shades, with the consciousness that\nthey are shades. Troy, too, falls; old Priam is slain hard by the altar\nof the home; women and maidens become slaves. \u00c6neas, in obedience to\nthe divine command, departs to found a new kingdom in Latium, and the\nvictorious heroes only return after manifold suffering to the happiness\nor bitterness that awaits them at home.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) This necessity of events may, however, be represented in very\ndifferent ways.\n\nThe most obvious and least elaborate is the bare exhibition of such\nevents without any further explanation of the poet of a necessary\nelement existing in the particular occurrences and their general\nconsequence by his addition of a controlling world of gods disclosed in\nthe decision, interference, and co-operation of eternal powers. In such\na case we must, however, have the feeling brought home from the entire\natmosphere of the exposition, that in the recounted events and great\nlife-destinies of single individuals and entire families or races, we\nare not merely confronted with what is mutable and contingent in human\nexistence, but with destinies which have an essential foundation,\nwhose necessity remains, however, the obscure operation of a power\nwhich is not placed before us poetically as such a power in its divine\ncontrolling energy to the point of defined individualization and in\nits explicit activity. The Niebelungenlied retains this general tone\nstrongly, albeit it does not ascribe the direction of the blood-stained\nfinal result of all committed deed either to Christian Providence or\nthe pagan world of gods. For in regard to Christendom, we merely hear\nof churchgoing and mass. We have, indeed, the remark of the bishop\nof Spejevs to the beautiful Ute, when the heroes withdraw into king\nEtzel's country: \"Please God, He will keep them there!\" We have also no\ndoubt dreams of warning, the prophecy of the Danube maidens to Hagen,\nand other examples of a similar kind, but no really conclusive witness\nto the control and interference of gods. This leaves an impression on\nthis poetry as of a something unriddled, unyielding, a mournfulness\nthat is at the same time objective, and consequently wholly epic in\nits tone. It is a great contrast to the poems of Ossian, in which\nin the same way no gods appear, yet in which, on the other hand, we\nfind lamentation over the death and downfall of the entire heroic\nstock presented under the form of the private sorrow of the dismayed\nminstrel, and as the yearning of a woe-begone recollection.\n\nEssentially distinct from the above type of conception is the complete\ninterlacement of all human destiny and natural event with the\nresolution, volition and action of a many-sided world of gods such\nas we find in the great Hindoo Epopees, and in Homer, Virgil, and\nothers. I have already expressly drawn attention to the varied poetic\ninterpretation which the poet himself supplies of events, which are\napparently accidental, through his assumption of the co-operation and\napparition of gods, and attempted to enforce the same by particular\nexamples from the Iliad and the Odyssey. Here we may observe that the\ncondition of most importance to the poetry in question is that in this\nreciprocal action of gods and men the relative independence of both\naspects is maintained, so that neither the gods fall into lifeless\nabstractions, nor the human individuals become purely subservient\nvassals. How such a danger is to be avoided I have already discussed\nat length in a previous passage. The Hindoo Epos is in this respect\nunable to force its way fully to the truly ideal relation between\ngods and mankind; on such a stage of imaginative symbolism the human\naspect still remains aloof in its free and beautiful actuality, and the\nactivity of individuals in part appears as the incarnation of gods,\nand in part, as something of more incidental merit, vanishes, or is\ndepicted under the guise of ascetic exaltation to the condition and\npower of gods. Conversely the variously personified powers, passions,\ngenii, angels, and so forth, that we meet with in Christendom possess\nfor the most part too little individual independence, and consequently\ntend only to affect us in a cold and abstract sort of way. The case is\nmuch the same in Mohammedanism. Through the deification of Nature and\nthe world of mankind, through the conception of a prosaic co-ordination\nof reality, it is hardly possible to avoid the danger, more\nparticularly where we enter a region of fairyland, wherein a miraculous\ninterpretation is given to that which is essentially contingent and\nindifferent in external circumstances, which are themselves only\npresent as a simple occasion for human action and as the ordeal of\nindividual character, without possessing therewith an ideal consistency\nand foundation. By reason of this no doubt the infinitely extensible\nconnection of cause and effect is broken, and the many sections in this\nprosaic concatenation of circumstances, which cannot be throughout\nmade clearly distinct, are brought all of a sudden into one union. If,\nhowever, such a result is secured without the principle of necessity\nand ideal reasonableness, such a mode of elucidation, as, for example,\nfrequently in \"The Thousand and one Nights,\" appears as little more\nthan the sport of an imagination, which endeavours to unfold as\ncausality possible and actual, by means of such inventions, what is\notherwise incredible.\n\nThe fairest mean, on the other hand, in this respect is that retained\nby Greek poetry, inasmuch as it is able to bestow both on gods and\nmen a reciprocally indestructible power and freedom of independent\nindividuality. And such is harmonious with its fundamental standpoint.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) There is, however, particularly in the epic conception of it,\na point of view relative to the collective world of gods, which I\nhave already referred to above in another connection. This is the\ncontrast which the _primitive_ Epopee presents to the _artificial_\ncomposition of later times. This difference is very pronounced if\nwe compare Homer and Virgil. The level of education, from which the\nHomeric poems originated, still continues in a fair harmony with the\npoetic subject-matter. With Virgil, on the contrary, we are reminded by\nevery single hexameter that the general outlook of the poet is totally\ndifferent from the world, which it is his endeavour to depict; and\nthe gods more particularly have lost the freshness of their original\nvitality. Instead of being living persons in their own selves, actual\nwitnesses to us of their existence, they have rather the appearance\nof being mere creations of the poet and external instruments, which\nit is neither possible for the poet or his audience to take quite\nseriously, although there is an open pretence made that they have been\ntaken thus seriously. Throughout the whole of the Virgilian Epic we\nfeel ourselves in the atmosphere of ordinary life; the old tradition,\nthe saga, the fairyland of poetry enters with prosaic distinctness\ninto the frame of our common-sense faculties. What we have in the\n\u00c6neid is very much what we find in the Roman history of Livy, where\nancient kings and consuls make speeches, precisely as an orator made\nhis speech in the Agora of Rome, or the school of the rhetoricians in\nthe days of Livy himself. And, on the other hand, in what is really\nretained from tradition, as an example of primitive speech, such as\nthe fable of Menenius Agrippa[18] about the functions of the belly, we\nfind a contrast which is almost repulsive. In Homer, however, the gods\nare wafted in a magical light between poetry and reality: they are not\npermitted to approach the imagination so nearly, that the apparition of\nthem confronts us with all the detail of ordinary life; nor are they\nleft so undefined, that they lose all appearance of vital reality as we\nlook at them. All that they do is readily explained by the soul-life\nand activities of men; and that which supports our faith in them is\nthe substance and content upon which they essentially repose. From\nthis point of view the poet, too, is thoroughly in earnest with his\ncreations, though he treats with irony their form and external reality.\nIn agreement with this it appears that the ancients themselves believed\nin this external form merely as works of art, which receive their\nconfirmation and significance as a gift of the poet. This light-hearted\nand human freshness of presentment, in virtue of which the gods appear\nhuman and natural, is one of the pre-eminent qualities of the Homeric\npoems. The divine figures of Virgil float before our vision as so many\ninvented wonders, as members of an artificial system. Virgil has not\nwholly escaped the charge of mere travesty, despite his earnestness;\nnay, this earnest mien of his is rather the cause of it, and Blumauer's\nMercury with his boots and spurs and riding-whip is not without its\njustification. There is no necessity for any one else to make the\nHomeric gods ridiculous. His own picture of them makes them quite\nridiculous enough. Nay, in his own story the gods themselves have their\nlaugh over the lame Hephestus, and over the cunning net in which Mars\nlies in company with Venus, to say nothing of the box on the ear that\nVenus gets, and the howl of Mars as he collapses. By means of these\ntouches of natural lustiness and gaiety the poet at once liberates\nus from the external form which he set up, and enforces all the more\nemphatically our common human nature, which he values, and which\nsuffers, however, the necessary and substantive power involved therein,\nand the faith in the same, to remain. But one or two more examples of\nsimilar detail. The tragic episode of Dido is so entirely to the modern\ncolour, that it was able to inspire a Tasso with emulation, nay, even\nin part to a literal translation. Even nowadays the French are moved\nto something like ecstasy over it. And yet how totally different in\ntheir human na\u00efvet\u00e9, simplicity and truth are the Homeric narratives of\nCirce and Calypso. The contrast is the same in Homer's account of the\ndescent of Odysseus into Hades. This obscure and twilight like retreat\nof the shades is shown us through a dusky cloud, in an intermingling of\nimagination and reality, which takes hold of us with astonishing force.\nHomer does not suffer his hero to descend into any Underworld ready to\nhand. Odysseus himself digs a pit, and pours therein the blood of a ram\nhe has killed; he summons the shades, which are then under constraint\nto circle round him, and bids some of them drink fresh blood that they\nmay address him, and give him news, and drives away others with the\nsword as they throng round him in their thirst for life. Everything\nthat happens here is bound up with the life of the hero, whose general\ndemeanour is the reverse of the humble attitude of \u00c6neas and Dante. In\nVirgil's account \u00c6neas descends in the ordinary way; and the flight\nof steps, Cerberus, Tantalus, and all the rest leaves us with the\nimpression of a definitely organized family establishment, quite to the\npattern of an orthodox compendium of mythology.\n\nWith yet more force will this artificial _comp\u00f4te_ of the poet appear\nas such rather than a work that springs naturally from the subject\nwhere we are already cognisant of the substance of the tale that\nis told us in its fresh and primitive form, or as actual history.\nExamples of this are Milton's \"Paradise Lost,\" the \"Noachid\" of\nBodmer, Klopstock's \"Messias,\" Voltaire's \"Henriade,\" and others. In\nall these poems we cannot fail to detect a real cleft between the\ncontent and the reflection of the poet which modifies his description\nof the events, characters and circumstances. In Milton's case, for\nexample, we find emotions and observations obviously the growth of an\nimagination and ethical ideas inseparable from his own age. In the\nsame way with Klopstock we have God the Father, the history of Jesus\nChrist, patriarchs and angels combined with our German education of\nthe eighteenth century, and the ideas of W\u00f6lffian metaphysic. This\ntwofold aspect asserts itself in every line. No doubt in these cases\nthe content itself offers many difficulties. For God the Father,\nthe heaven of the angels, and the angelic host are far less adapted\nto the individualization of a free imagination than are the Homeric\ngods, which, in a manner similar to the in part fantastic creations\nin Ariosto, in their external mode of appearance, and so far as they\ndo not epitomize[19] human action, but rather independently confront\neach other as individuals, do of themselves suggest the gibe over such\na presentment.[20] Moreover Klopstock, so far as a religious outlook\nis concerned, introduces us to a world devoid of foundation, which he\ncrowds with the brilliant effects of a rather exhausting imagination,\nand compels us to take everything as seriously as he means it himself.\nThis is particularly unfortunate in the case of his angels and devils.\nSuch creations only really have substance and can be brought home to\nus in their individuality in so far as the material of their actions,\nas with the Homeric gods, is rooted in the spiritual experience of\nhumanity, or in a reality already known to us, as in cases where\nthey claim importance as being the guardian spirits or angels of men\nor cities, but who, apart from such a concrete significance, assert\nwhat is just so much the more merely the vacancy of imagination in\nproportion as a serious actuality is ascribed to them. Abbadona,\nfor instance, the repentant devil,[21] possesses neither a truly\nallegorical meaning--for in the abstract notion of devil there can be\nno inconsistency of guilt which can be converted into virtue--nor is\nsuch a figure one that is essentially and truly concrete. If Abbadona\nwere a man, a conversion to God would no doubt be reasonable; but\nwhere we have evil regarded as something independently substantive,\nwhich is not an individual human evil, such a conversion is merely\na triviality of sentimental emotion. It is in fact a distinguishing\ncharacteristic of Klopstock's invention that it creates such unreal\npersonages, conditions and events, which have nothing in common with\nthe actual world and its poetical content. And he fares no better in\nthe machinery of his judicial condemnation of riotous living in high\nplaces, least of all in the contrast he presents to Dante, who condemns\nthe famous personalities of his time to hell with a power of detailed\nrealization of another type altogether. Equally destitute of real\ncontent as poetry is the joy of the resurrection among the assembled\nspirits of Adam, Noah, Shem, Japhet, and the rest, as depicted by\nKlopstock, who, in the 11th canto of the Messias, at the command of\nGabriel, once more revisit their graves. Reason and rational ground\nare alike absent here. The souls have lived in the Divine Presence;\nthey now behold the Earth, but they enter into no renewed relation\nwith it. We may presume that they could not do better than appear to\nmen; but of this there is not a single example. No doubt we find here\nbeautiful emotions, endearing situations; and above all the moment in\nwhich the soul is once more united to a body is depicted in a way that\narrests us; but the _content_ remains none the less an invention that\npossesses no real claim to credibility. In contrast to such abstract\nideas the blood-drinking of the phantoms in Homer, their reanimation\nin memory and speech, possess for us infinitely more the truth and\nrealization of ideal poetry. And though from the point of view of\nimaginative resource these pictures of Klopstock are decorative enough,\nwhat is most essential in them is throughout the lyrical rhetoric of\nangels, who appear merely as instruments of service, or of patriarchs\nand other Biblical figures whose speeches and harangues have little in\nharmony with their historical characters as we have received the same\nfrom tradition. Mars, Apollo, War, Knowledge, and so forth--powers of\nthis kind are neither in respect to their content wholly inventions, as\nthe angels are, nor are they simply historical persons borrowed from\nhistorical sources, as are the patriarchs; they are on the contrary\npermanent forces, whose _form_ and mode of appearance is alone the\n_poet's creation._ In the \"Messias,\" however, admitting its excellence\nin certain directions--its purity of feeling, the brilliancy of its\nphantasy--yet it cannot be denied that by reason of the very type of\nsuch a phantasy we have here very, very much indeed that is hollow,\nwithout definite substance, and utilized simply as machinery for\nsomething else, all of which, combined with the absence of continuity\nin the content and its mode of conception, has even already covered\nthe entire poem with oblivion. Things only live and remain green,\nwhich, essentially vital in themselves, unfold to us original life\nand activity in their pristine mould. For this reason we must hold\nfast to the primitive Epopees, and keep aloof, not only from modes\nof conception which are antagonistic to the actual presence which is\nvindicated in such, but also and above all from false aesthetic theory\nand predilection, at least if we are really anxious to enjoy and study\nthe original world-outlook of nations, that great and spiritual[22]\nnatural history. We have every reason to congratulate recent times,\nand our German nation in particular, that it is now on the road to\nthe attainment of this object; that it has, in short, broken through\nthe former obtuseness, of ordinary methods of thinking, and by its\nliberation of the mind from restricted views made it more receptive\nto ideas of the world which it is imperative that we as individuals\nenter into, and which alone are able to restore to us, to the full\nextent of their claim, the resurrected spirits of nations, whose ideal\nsignificance and deed thus appear struck into life in these their own\nEpopees.\n\n(_c_) _The Epos as Unified Totality_\n\nHitherto, in considering the necessary qualifications of a genuine\nEpos, we have on the one hand discussed the _general_ world-environment\nand from a further point of view the nature of the particularized event\ntransacted on such a background by _individuals_ either acting under\nthe direction of gods or subject to destiny. These two fundamental\naspects have yet further to coalesce in one and the same epic totality.\nIn respect to this I will merely confine the reader's attention to the\nfollowing points of interest:\n\nIn the _first_ place we propose to consider the _collective aggregate\nof objects_, a satisfactory exposition of which is necessary to\ndisclose the connection between the particular action and the\nsubstantive ground referred to.\n\n_Secondly_, we have to examine the nature of the difference which\nobtains between the epic mode of _disclosure_ and that of lyric or\ndramatic poetry.\n\n_Thirdly_, we have to deal with the _unity_ in which an epic composition\nis rounded off despite all its breadth of extension.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The content of the Epos, as already observed, is the entirety of\na world in which an individual action is eventuated. In such a world\nthe greatest variety of objects appear necessarily appertinent to the\ngeneral views, deeds, and conditions of such a world.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Lyrical poetry is, no doubt, involved in definite situations,\nwithin which the subject of the lyric is permitted to import a great\nvariety of content into its emotion and reflection. In this type of\npoetry, however, it is throughout the form of conscious life itself\nwhich characterizes such content; and for this reason excludes the\noutlook on the objective world in all its breadth of extension.\nConversely the dramatic composition presents us characters and the\ncarrying out of the action itself with all the animated appearance\nof life, so that here, too, the portrayal of local accessories, the\nexternal form of the active personages and all that happens, in the\nnature of the case tends to disappear. As a rule, what we have to\nexpress is the soul-motive and purpose rather than its extensive\nrelations with the surrounding world of objects, or a description of\nindividuals in their positive appearance as part of them. In the Epos,\nhowever, quite apart from the national actuality in the widest sense,\nupon which the action is based, we must find room for the ideal or\nsoul aspect no less than the external or world aspect. We have in this\ntype, therefore, under review and in coalescence the entire totality\nof all that we may reckon as comprised in the poetic presentation of\nour human existence. In this content we must not merely include on\nthe one side the natural environment in the sense of this or that\nspecific locality in which the action takes place, but also the more\nuniversal objective outlook such as I have already pointed out is a\nfeature we find illustrated in the Odyssey, enabling us to understand\nhow the Greeks in the times of Homer regarded the shape of the Earth,\nthe configuration of the seas, and similar geographical facts. At the\nsame time these natural aspects are not the object of most importance\nin the poem; they are merely the foundation; there is, in short, the\nfurther and more essential aspect of the composition unfolded in\nthe existence, activities, and co-operation of the entire world of\ndivinities; and between these two extremes we have humanity simply as\nsuch in its collective relation to domestic, public, peaceful, and\nwarlike situations, ethical habit, customs, characters and events. And,\nmoreover, throughout we have to assume in both directions, whether\nthat is from the point of view of the individual event, or the general\ncondition, the all-embracing national and other actual complexus.\n\nFinally, if we consider the nature of this intelligible content it\nis not merely an external _\u00e9v\u00e9nement_ that is presented us, but\nin conjunction with such we must have, too, placed before us the\nideal world of emotion, the aims and purposes of mind, all that may\ncontribute to justify or condemn a deliberate line of conduct. In\nshort, the real subject-matter of lyric and dramatic poetry is not\nwholly excluded, although in the epic type these aspects merely are\nvalid as subordinate features; they do not, as in the former cases,\nconstitute the essential form of the exposition, nor do they deprive\nthe Epos of its distinctive character. We may consequently affirm that\nthe distinctive note of the Epic is absent, when lyric expression\ndetermines both tone and colour, as is the case, for example, in\nOssian, or when passages are emphasized in which the execution of\nthe poet is made as consummate as possible, as is to some extent the\ncase with Tasso, and to a still more marked degree characteristic of\nMilton and Klopstock. Emotions and reflections ought rather, no less\nthan the portrayal of objective fact, to be transmitted as something\ndone, already spoken and thought, and not interrupt the tranquil\ncourse of the Epic narrative. The incoherent exclamation of emotion,\nthe direct outcry of the soul mainly intent with its utterance upon\nself-revelation, is out of place in such poetry. It will for the same\nreason and as strongly abstain from an imitation of the animation\nof dramatic dialogue, in which individuals carry on a conversation\nas though face to face with each other, where the aspect of most\nimportance throughout is the contrast presented by different types of\ncharacter in their interchange of speech as they strive to convince,\ncommand, impose upon, or passionately unravel their motives to one\nanother.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) And, _secondly_, the Epos has not merely to bring before\nour vision the manifold content above described in its actually\nindependent and subsistent objective form, but also the form in\nwhich it essentially becomes the Epos is, as I have more than once\nalready described it, an _individual_ event. If this essentially\nlimited action is to remain united with all other material introduced,\nthis additional accretion of fact, must throughout be brought into\ndefinite relation with the course of the individual event, that is to\nsay, it must not fall outside it as independent. We could not find a\nmore perfect illustration of this interweaving of all threads than\nthat of the Odyssey. The domestic arrangements of the Greeks, for\ninstance, no less than the ideas we get of foreign and barbarous folk\nand countries, or of the realm of the shades, and much else, are so\nclosely interwoven with the personal wanderings of the home-returning\nOdysseus and the fortunes of Telemachus on his journey after his\nfather, that not one of these aspects of the tale is held in a loose\nand independent position apart from the main event, or, as with the\nchorus of tragedy, which does not usually enter into the action\nand merely deals with generalized reflections, is able to relapse\ninactive into retrospection, but co-operates in the actual progress\nof the event. In a similar manner Nature also and the world of gods\nfor the first time receives, not so much on their own account as in\ntheir relation to the particular events, which it is the function of\nthe godlike to direct, an individual representation and one of rich\nvitality. Only when such a condition is fulfilled, or, in other words,\nwhen the narrative throughout informs us of the progressive movement\nof the event, which the poet has selected as the unifying material of\nhis composition, can it never appear as a mere portrayal of independent\nobjects. On the other hand, the particular event for its part should\nnot be involved in and absorb the substantive national basis and\ntotality upon which it moves forward to such a degree, that these are\nthemselves divested of all independent existence, and fall by necessity\ninto a relation simply of service. In this respect the expedition of\nAlexander against the East would not supply satisfactory subject-matter\nfor the true Epopee. An heroic exploit of this kind not merely in\nrespect to the original resolve, but also to its manner of execution,\ndepends so entirely on this _one_ single individual, his personality\nand character is so exclusively that which supports it, that we lose\naltogether the independent existence and self-assertion of the national\nbasis, the host and its leaders, which we have shown to be a necessary\ncondition. Alexander's army is his people, wholly bound up with him and\nhis command: it follows him rather in the relation of vassalage than\nthat of free will. In contrast to this the true vitality of the epic\nconsists in this, that both these fundamental aspects, the particular\naction with its individual agents and the general world-condition,\nwhile no doubt continuing under a mediated relation, yet in this\nrelation of reciprocity no less preserve their necessary independence\nand thereby enforce themselves as one existing whole, at the same time\nsecuring and possessing an independent entity.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In a previous passage we laid it down generally that in order\nto have an individual action the substantive basis of epic poetry must\noffer the opportunity of collisions, and furthermore observed, that the\ngeneral foundation must not appear as wholly independent but under the\nform of a specific event; we may now add that it is in this individual\n_\u00e9v\u00e9nement_ that we must seek the point of _departure_ for the entire\nepic poem. This is pre-eminently of importance for the situations\nconnected with its commencement. Here, too, we may take the Iliad and\nOdyssey for models. In the first the Trojan war is placed before us\nas the general background of contemporary life, but only so far as it\ncomprises the particular events connected with the wrath of Achilles.\nAnd for this reason the poem commences without any possible confusion\nwith situations which excite the passion of the principal hero against\nAgamemnon. In the Odyssey there are two classes of subject-matter which\ndetermine the content of its opening, that is to say, the wanderings of\nOdysseus and the domestic complications at Ithaca. Homer brings them\ntogether by giving us briefly information concerning Odysseus on his\nhome-journey to the effect that he is detained by Calypso, and then at\nonce passes to the sorrows of Penelope and the voyage of Telemachus. We\nare, consequently, able to review at one glance what obstacle stands\nin way of the return, and what is consequently rendered necessary for\nthose left behind at home.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The advance, then, of the epic poem from a commencement such as\nthis is totally different from that of lyric or dramatic poetry.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In the first place we should draw attention to the possibilities\nof _extension_ within the range of the Epos. These are quite as much\ndue to the form as they are to the content. We have already seen what\na variety of objects may be comprised in the world of the Epic as\nfully elaborated, not merely in its ideal capacities, motives, and\naim, but also in respect to its objective situation and environment.\nInasmuch as all these aspects assume an objective form, an appearance\nof reality, each one of them takes to itself a form of essentially\nindependent ideality and externality, in which the epic poet, either\nin his exposition or description, is permitted freely to linger, and\nto disclose in its positive appearance. The lyric, on the contrary,\nconcentrates all that it lays hold of within the ideal realm of the\nemotions, or refines it away in the generalized vision of reflection.\nIn the objective world it is the immediate complex in juxtaposition, or\nthe varied wealth of manifold characteristics, which is presented us.\nIn this respect we find that in no other type of poetry is the claim\nto introduce episodical matter, even to the point of to all appearance\nabsolute independence, more indisputable than in the Epos. The delight,\nhowever, in actual fact for its own sake and in its natural form must,\nas already observed, not be carried so far as to import into the\npoem circumstances and facts which have no real connection with the\nimportant action. Such episodes must assert themselves as effective in\nthe advance of such action, whether as events which are obstructive to\nits course, or assistant in their mediation. Yet, despite of this, the\nparticular portions of the epic poem will be somewhat loosely bound\ntogether. This is a necessary result of the mode of its objectivity.\nFor in what is objective mediation persists as the ideal essence; what\nin contrast to this confronts the external aspect is the independent\nexistence of particular aspects. This defect in the direction of a\nstringent unity and the emphasized relation of specific portions of the\nepic poem, which, according to its primitive form, possesses moreover\na primitive period of origination, has this result, that it lends\nitself more readily than lyric or dramatic compositions to subsequent\nadditions and continuations; and, further, it is enabled to appropriate\nunder its more recent and embracing whole even examples of the saga\nwhich have already received artistic expression of a definite, if not\nso exalted character.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_)_Secondly_, if we look at the way in which epic poetry may be\njustified in its _motivisation_ of the progress and course of events,\nwe shall find that it ought not either exclusively to take the ground\nof what happens from the individual mood, nor yet from what is purely\npersonal character. In other words, it should not encroach upon\nwhat is the proper sphere of the lyric and drama; it must, in this\nrespect too, adhere to the form of objectivity which constitutes the\nfundamental epic type. We have, in fact, seen more than once previously\nthat external conditions were of no less importance, for an exposition\nthat takes the form of narrative, than states of soul which revealed\ncharacter. In the Epos character and the necessary rational condition\ncoalesce completely on terms of equality, and the epic character may\ntherefore give way to external conditions, without impairing his poetic\nindividuality, may be, in short, in his action, the result of relations\nin such a way that these appear as the predominant factor rather than\nthe exclusively effective character as we find it in the drama. We\nfind in the Odyssey that the progress of events is almost entirely\nmotived in this way. We find the same thing in the adventures of\nAriosto and other Epopees, where the material of the song is borrowed\nfrom the the Middle Ages. The divine command, too, which induces \u00c6neas\nto found Rome, no less than the varied episodes which extend its\nembrace over a wide field, would involve a type of motivisation wholly\nuncongenial to the drama. A further illustration of this is Tasso's\n\"Jerusalem Delivered,\" in which, quite apart from the brave antagonism\nof the Saracens, many a natural event is opposed to the object of\nthe Christian host. Such examples might be indefinitely multiplied\nfrom almost all the more famous Epopees. And, indeed, it is precisely\nmaterial of this kind, in which an exposition of this type is possible\nand necessary, that the epic poet ought to select.\n\nThe same thing is effected where it is bound to appear as the result\nof the actual decision of individuals. Here, too, we have neither\nto assert nor to express that which the character in the dramatic\nsense of the term--that is, according to his aim and the individual\npassion which uniquely animates him--makes of the circumstances and\nrelations, in order to maintain his personality against this external\nresistance no less than against other individuals. Rather the epic\ncharacter excludes this action viewed simply in reference to its\npersonal character, just as it excludes the tumult of purely subjective\nstates and feelings. Instead of this it cleaves fast, on the one\nhand, to the circumstances and their reality; and on the other that,\nwhereby its movement is effected, must necessarily render explicit all\nthat is essentially valid, universal, and ethical. In Homer, as in\nno other writer, we shall find inexhaustible material for pertinent\nthought on this head. The lament of Hecuba over Hector, for instance,\nor of Achilles over the death of Patroclus--episodes which, so far\nas content is concerned, would lend themselves admirably to lyric\ntreatment--are in Homer held throughout within the epic temper. And\nto quite as little extent do we find this poet handle in dramatic\nstyle situations which would primarily adapt themselves to dramatic\nexposition, such as the conflict between Agamemnon and Achilles in the\ncouncil of the chiefs, or the parting of Hector and Andromache. Only to\nglance at the last-mentioned scene, this belongs unquestionably to one\nof the finest conceivable efforts of epic poetry. Even in Schiller's\ndialogue between Amalia and Carl in \"The Robbers,\" where the same\nsubject ought to be treated in the lyric vein throughout, we distinctly\nhear an epic reverberation from the Iliad. How consummately epic in its\neffect, however, is Homer's description in the sixth book of the Iliad\nof the way in which Hector vainly seeks for Andromache at home, then\nat last meets her on the way to the Sc\u00e6an gate, how she hurries toward\nhim, and when close to him, as he looks with a peaceful smile on his\nlittle boy lying on the arm of his nurse, exclaims: \"Amazing man, thy\ncourage will destroy thee, and thou compassionest neither thy infant\nboy nor me, hapless wight, who will soon be widowed of thee. Ay, for\nsoon the Achaeans will slay thee, storming against thee together. And\nif I lose thee it were better for myself to pass beneath the earth. No\nother comfort is left for me, but only sorrow, if thou art stricken by\nfate! Neither have I my father any more, nor yet my lady mother.\" After\nwhich she narrates at length all the story about her father and the\ndeath of her seven brothers, all of whom Achilles had slain, also the\ncaptivity, ransom, and decease of her mother. Then at length she turns\nwith earnest plea to Hector, who is henceforward to her father and\nmother, brothers, and spouse in the bloom of life, and implores him to\nremain on the walls, and not to make his son an orphan and his wife a\nwidow. Hector replies in much the same spirit: \"All this is also a care\nto me, wife; but I fear too much the Trojans, if I avoid the battle\nhere, like a coward; the eddy, too, of the moment worries me not, who\nam wont to be ever dauntless, and to fight in the foremost ranks of the\nTrojans, protecting the high fame of my father and mine own. Ay, well\nindeed I wot, both in mind and soul, that the day will come in which\nsacred Troy shall fall, as also Priam and the folk of the king cunning\nwith the spear. But I sorrow not so much for the Trojans, nor yet for\nHecuba herself and Priam, nor the brothers of my flesh, who shall fall\nbeneath the foe, as for thee, when some bronze-greaved Ach\u00e6an shall\nbear thee away, robbing thee of thy day of freedom, and thou shalt spin\nfrom the flax of another in Argos, or wearily draw water, loth indeed,\nbut the might of necessity will be upon thee; and I doubt not there\nwill be someone who will say, as he sees thee weeping: 'See yonder\nHector's wife, the bravest of all who fought among the Trojans when the\nfight was over Ilium.' Thus perchance shall someone speak; and woe will\ncome upon thee, that thou hast no longer such a husband, to fend thee\nfrom such serfdom. As for myself, may the earth cover me, or ever I\nhear thy bitter cry and thy carrying off.\" All that Hector says here is\nfull of feeling, pathetic enough, yet not merely expressed in a lyrical\nor dramatic manner, but in the epic vein, inasmuch as the picture which\nhe outlines of suffering, and which brings pain to himself, in the\nfirst place depicts circumstantially objective conditions as such, and\nin the second place because all that affects and moves him does not\nappear as personal volition, or individual resolve, but rather as a\nnecessity which is not at the same time his own aim and will. Of much\nthe same epic effect are the pleas with which the vanquished plead, as\nthey may on various grounds, for their life with their victors; for a\nmovement of the soul, which proceeds merely from circumstances, and\nonly attempts to affect us through the causative effect of objective\nrelations and situations, is not dramatic, although modern tragedians\nfrom time to time also make use of such a type of effect. The scene,\nfor example, in Schiller's \"Maid of Orleans,\" on the battle-field\nbetween the English knight Montgomery and Joan,[23] is, as others have\nalready justly observed, rather epic than dramatic. In the moment of\ndanger all courage forsakes the knight; yet, for all that, when pressed\nby the fierce Talbot, who punishes cowardice with death, and the Maid,\nwho conquers even the bravest, he is unable to have recourse to flight,\nand exclaims:\n\n\n    O, w\u00e4r ich nimmer \u00fcber Meer hieher geschifft,\n    Ich ungl\u00fccksel'ger! Eitler Wahn beth\u00f6rte mich,\n    Wohlfeilen Ruhm zu suchen in dem Frankenkrieg,\n    Und jetzo f\u00fchrt mich das verderbliche Geschick\n    In diese blut'ge Mordschlacht. W\u00e4r ich weit von hier\n    Daheim noch an der Savern' bluhendem Gestad\n    Im sichern Vaterhause, we die Mutter mir.\n    In Gram zur\u00fcckblieb und die zarte s\u00fcsse Braut.[24]\n\n\nExpressions such as these are unmanly, and make the figure of this\nknight neither fit for the genuine Epos nor the tragic drama, are in\nfact rather suggestive of comedy. And when Joan, after exclaiming,\n\n\n    Du bist des Todes! Eine britt'sche Mutter zeugte dich![25]\n\n\nadvances towards him, he throws away sword and shield and pleads at her\nfeet for his life. The reasons he gives at length in order to arouse\nher sympathy: his defencelessness; the wealth of his father, who would\nransom him with gold; the gentleness of the sex to which Joan belongs\nas maid; the love of his sweet bride, who waits for his return home in\ntears; the grief of the parents whom he has left at home; the grievous\nfate of death unwept for in a foreign land--all these motives are\nthemselves, in one aspect of them, essentially objective conditions,\neffective and of value as such, and on the other hand, the tranquil\nexposition of them is itself in the epic vein. In the same way the\npoet motives the condition, that Joan must hearken to him, through the\nexternal circumstance of the defencelessness of the pleader, although\nfrom the dramatic point of view she ought without delay and at the bare\nsight to have slain him, being as she was the relentless foe of all\nEnglishmen, and in fact expresses such destructive hatred with every\nresource of rhetoric, justifying her action by the statement that she\nis bound with most fearful vow to the spirit-world.\n\n\n    Mit dem Schwert zu t\u00f6dten alles Lebende, das ihr\n    Der Schlachten Gott verh\u00e4ngnissvoll entgegenschickt.[26]\n\n\nIf the point of importance to the maid were merely that Montgomery\nought not to die defenceless, he possessed apparently an excellent\nmeans in his grasp of retaining his life; in other words he had merely\nto refuse to take up his weapons. This view is supported by the fact\nthat Joan has already listened to him so long. Yet when she demands\nthat he should fight for his life with her, of mortal flesh like\nhimself, he again takes up his sword and falls by her hand. Such a\n_development_ of the scene had been more in keeping with the drama had\nit dispensed with all this varied epic exposition.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In general, then, we may characterize the type in which we\nhave the poetic passage of epic events set before us in the following\nway, namely, that the epic presentation does not merely linger over\nthe picture of objective reality and ideal conditions, but over and\nabove this provides _obstacles_ to a final solution. This not only\napplies to its relation to the wide field of external condition, to\nwhich the more immediate vision enforces us, but also in respect\nto the culminating movement of the action, more especially in its\ncontrast to dramatic poetry. For this reason above all it diverts us\nfrom the execution of the fundamental purpose, the connected course\nof whose evolved conflict a dramatic poet ought never to lose sight\nof, into much digressive matter; and, moreover, by this means avails\nitself of the opportunity, to bring before our vision the complex\nunity of a world of circumstances, which otherwise could not have\nbeen expressed in speech. We have an illustration of such an obstacle\nin the beginning of the Iliad. Homer here at once tells us about the\nfatal sickness, which Apollo had spread throughout the Greek camp,\nand connects with it the strife between Achilles and Agamemnon. This\nwrath is the second impediment. Even more obviously in the Odyssey is\nevery adventure that Odysseus has to pass through, a delay to his home\nreturn. More particularly, however, the distinct episode serves to\ninterrupt the unimpaired progression of the story, and is to a great\nextent an obstacle to this. Such, for instance, is the shipwreck of\n\u00c6neas, his love for Dido, the appearance of Armida in Tasso, and we may\nadd as a rule the many independent love affairs of particular heroes\nin the romantic Epos, which, in the poetry of Ariosto, accumulate and\ninterlace with such profusion, that the conflict between Christian and\nSaracen is thereby entirely hidden. In the \"Divine Comedy\" of Dante\nwe do not find such definite examples of obstruction to the plot or\nnarrative. In this case we must associate the slow advance of the Epic\ndenouement partly with the generally pausing manner of the description,\nand in part with the many little episodical histories and conversations\nwith particular characters, whether damned or otherwise, about whom the\npoet permits himself more detailed information.\n\nIn this connection it is above all things necessary that impediments\nof this description, which interfere with the flow of narrative to its\nfinal end, should not be presented as though they were merely means\ndirected to objects of an objective character. For inasmuch as already\nthe general condition, on the basis of which the movement of the epic\nworld is carried forward, is only truly poetical where it appears as a\nself-constructed growth, so too its entire course, either in virtue of\ncircumstances or the inherent destiny, must also appear self-originated\nwithout our being able to detect thereby the personal views of\nthe poet; and this is all the more so because, in the form of its\nobjectivity--not merely under its aspects of phenomenal reality, but\nalso in respect to the substantive character of its content--it claims\nfor the whole no less than its divisible content that it is a positive\ngrowth, spontaneous in its origin and independent. If, however, a\ndirective world of gods is its apex, controlling the course of events,\nit is even more necessary that the poet himself should possess a lively\nand vivid faith in them, because in that case it is generally through\nthe instrumentality of these that obstructions such as we have referred\nto are asserted; consequently where these divine forces are treated\nmerely as some lifeless mechanism, it is inevitable that everything\nfor which they are responsible must equally become so in a poetic\ncomposition which is artificial even in intention.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Having thus briefly adverted to the totality of objects, which\nthe Epos is able to unfold by interweaving a particular event with a\nuniversal national world-condition, and, further, having discussed\nthe manner in which the course of events is developed, we have now,\n_thirdly_, and in conclusion, to examine the problem as to the nature\nof the _unity_ and _rounding off_ of an epic composition.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) This is a point all the more important for the reason that in\nour own day people are ready to take up the view that we may end an\nEpic as we like, or continue it just as capriciously. Although this is\nthe opinion of men of talent and learning--it is in fact the contention\nof F. N. Wolff--it remains none the less a crude and illiterate view.\nIt in fact amounts to nothing less than excluding from the finest\nethic compositions any genuine character of artistic composition. For\nit is only in virtue of the fact that an Epos depicts an essentially\nexclusive, and thereby, for the firs time independent world, that it\nis at all a work of fine art in contrast to what is, in part, the\ndiffuse, and, in part, the finite, series of independent sections,\ncauses, effects, and other modes of self-causative reality. One can,\nof course, so far admit that for the genuine and primitive Epos the\nwholly aesthetic review of the design and organization of the parts,\nof the position and completion of the episodes, of the kind of similes\nemployed, and so forth, this is not the point of most importance,\ninasmuch as here, more than in lyrical poetry of a later date, and\nits artificial elaboration of the drama, the general world-outlook,\nthe faith in divine beings, and, in a word, what is most essential in\nsuch national Bibles, must be expressed as the aspect of most weight.\nNevertheless, these great national books, such as are the Ramajana, the\nIliad, and the Odyssey, and even the \"Song of the Nibelings,\" ought not\nto lose that quality which alone, in respect to both their beauty and\ntheir art, can endow them with the worth and freedom of artistic works,\nthe quality, that is, whereby they bring before our vision a complete\nsphere of action. What we have simply to do, therefore, is to discover\nthe appropriate form of this exclusive unity.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The term Unity, if employed in this general sense, has become\na very commonplace one even for tragedy, one capable of much misuse.\nFor every event, in its causes and effects, creates an infinite chain,\nwhich, in the direction of the past no less than the future, and in\na way that is in both directions incalculable, leads to a further\nseries of particular circumstances and actions, it being impossible\nto determine all that may form part of the circumstances and detail\nin other respects, or the mode of their coalescence. If we merely\nconfine our attention to this series, no doubt an Epos may be extended\nbackwards and forwards indefinitely; and, over and above this such\nalways offers opportunity for digression. But it is just such a series\nas this which makes the composition prosaic. To adduce an example the\nGreek cyclic poets have celebrated the entire cyclus of the Trojan\nwar, and in doing so continue at the point where Homer stops, with a\nbeginning, too, from the egg of Leda. But it is precisely on account\nof this that they degenerate into prose, if we contrast them with\nHomer's compositions. Just as little--I have already drawn attention\nto this--can an individual as such surrender the central focus of his\nunity, inasmuch as it is from this that the most varied events issue,\nand are able to effect a union in the same, though they may be entirely\nwithout connection regarded simply as events. We have consequently\nto seek for another type of unity. In this respect we must briefly\ndetermine the distinction between a mere _event_, and a _definite\naction_, which accepts the form of event in the epic narrative. We\nmay define a mere event as the external aspect and realization of\nevery human action, without involving with it the execution of a\nparticular end; or, in general terms, we may call it every external\nmodification in the form and appearance of what actually exists. When\nanyone is struck by lightning, that is a mere event, an external\noccurrence. More is implied in the sack of a hostile city; we have here\nthe fulfilment of a predeterminate purpose. An essentially distinct\nobject of this kind, such as the liberation of the Holy Land from the\nyoke of the Saracens and heathen, or better still the satisfaction of\na specific impulse, such as the wrath of Achilles, must, under the\nmode of the epic eventuality, constitute the synthetic unity of the\nEpopaea; and by this I mean that the poetic narrative must restrict\nitself to that which is uniquely the effect of this conceived purpose\nor specific impulse, and in this co-operation be rounded off in an\nessentially exclusive unity. Action and execution of this type is,\nhowever, only possible to human agency; so that, as the culminating\npoint of our composition, we must have in progressive conjunction\nwith purpose and impulse a _human personality._ Furthermore, if the\naction and satisfaction of the entire heroic character, from which both\npurpose and impulse proceed, are merely the result of wholly definite\nsituations and motives, which are dissipated as we look back in an\nextensive complexity of relation, and if, further, the execution of the\npurpose, as we look forward, carries with it a variety of result, then\nin that case on the one hand no doubt a large number of presuppositions\nwill be involved with such a specific action, and on the other hand we\nshall have many effects of reaction, which, however, will not be placed\nin any more intimate poetic connection with just this determinate\ncharacter of the end under exposition. In this sense, for instance,\nthe wrath of Achilles has as little connection with the rape of Helen\nor the judgment of Paris, although the one fact is presupposed in the\nother, as it has with the actual sack of Troy. When, therefore, it is\ncontended that the Iliad neither possesses a necessary beginning, nor\nan appropriate conclusion, such a verdict is due to an inability to see\ndistinctly that it is the wrath of Achilles which is the main subject\nof the Iliad, and which consequently should supply the focus-point of\nunity. If, on the contrary, we form a stable conception of the heroic\nfigure of Achilles, and assume that this, as asserted in the wrath\naroused in him by Agamemnon, is the connecting thread of the whole,\nwe shall be unable to conceive either a beginning or termination of\ngreater beauty. It is, as I have already pointed out, the direct motive\nof this anger, which forms the poem's commencement; the consequences\nof the same are comprised in all that follows. Against this critics\nhave attempted to enforce the view that in such a case the last cantos\nare irrelevant, and might just as well be omitted. Such an opinion, if\nwe look at the poem itself, is untenable. For just as the dallying of\nAchilles himself by the ships and his abstinence from the conflict are\npurely the result of his indignant wrath, and are in this inactivity\nbound up closely with the almost immediate success of the Trojans over\nthe Grecian host, no less than with the fight and death of Patroclus,\nso, too, the lament and revenge of the noble Achilles and his victory\nover Hector is closely linked with this fall of his brave friend. If in\nthe previous opinion it is implied that death is the end of everything,\nand after that we may as well pack and be off, such a view merely\nindicates extreme crudity of imaginative conception. With the idea of\ndeath it is merely _Nature_ that is brought to a standstill; man is not\nso, nor yet are the obligations of his _ethical life_ and _habit_,[27]\nwith their claim of honourable recognition for the fallen hero. In this\nsense the sports that form part of the funeral rites of Patroclus,\nthe heartrending pleas of Priam, the reconciliation of Achilles, who\nreturns the father the corpse of his son, in order that in this case,\ntoo, honour to the dead may not be absent, each and all are connected\nwith the previous events, and contribute to the supreme and satisfying\nbeauty of the narrative's conclusion.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Inasmuch, however, as we have attempted above to make a\nspecifically individual action, which issues in accordance with a\ndeliberate purpose or heroic impulses, conform to the type of an epic\nwhole in which focal points are ascertainable that bind it together\nand round off its completeness, the view is at least possible that\nwe have made the _unity_ of the Epos too nearly identical with that\nof the _drama._ For in the drama also it is _one_ particular line of\naction issuing from self-conceived purpose and character with its\nconflict which constitutes the focal centre. In order, therefore,\nnot to involve these two types of poetry, the epos, that is, and the\ndrama, in confusion, though the confusion merely appear to be such, I\nwill yet again draw the reader's attention emphatically to my previous\nexplanation of the distinction between human action and event. And\nquite apart from this the epic interest is not simply confined to\nthose characters, objects, and situations which have their ground\nin the particular action as such, whose progress is the subject of\nthe epic narrative, but this action possesses the further stimulus\nto its opposed factors and their resolution, and in fact is directed\nthroughout its course and exclusively within a _national_ and\n_collective whole_, or substantive content, which claims on its own\naccount to assert a variety of characters, conditions, and events. In\nthis respect the final consummation of the Epos does not merely consist\nin the particular content of the predominant action selected, but quite\nas much in the entire synthesis of the _general world-survey_ whose\nobjective reality it undertakes to depict; in fact, the epic unity is\nonly then fully complete when the particular action, from one point of\nview no doubt, in its independent character, but also from another,\nregarded in its progression as the essentially rounded world within\nthe sphere of which it moves, is placed before us as one indissoluble\ntotality; and both of these spheres, or aspects of one sphere, repose\ntogether in the mediating fulness and unimpaired unity of very life.\n\nSuch, then, are the most essential characteristics we find it possible,\nwithin the limits accepted, to draw attention to in respect to the\ngenuine Epos.\n\nIt is, however, possible to apply the same form of objectivity to\nother subject-matter, whose content does not carry with it the true\nsignificance of genuine objectivity. It is very possible that a\ntheorist in Art will feel embarrassment when, with such modes of speech\nbefore him, he is asked to make a classification adapted to all poems\nwithout distinction; and we must not forget that under the generic term\nof poem these hybrid forms have also to be reckoned. In any really\njust classification, however, we ought only to include that which only\nconforms with a definition of the generic notion.[28] All that is, on\nthe contrary, incomplete in content or form, or both, precisely for the\nreason that it is not as it ought to be, is only subsumed defectively\nunder the notion, or in other words under the definition, which gives\nus the thing as it ought to be, and in truth actually is. I only\npropose, therefore, in conclusion and by way of supplement, to add a\nfew observations upon such subordinate and collateral branches of the\ntrue epic composition.\n\nTo this class of poetry above all the _idyll_ belongs in the modern\nsense of that term, viz., that in which poetry stands aloof from the\nprofounder interests of spiritual and ethical life, and depicts mankind\nin its innocence. Innocent life in this sense amounts to little more\nthan an ignorance of everything except eating and drinking. We may\nadd that what we eat and drink here is extremely simple, it is goat's\nmilk merely, or sheep's milk, or at the most cow's milk, roots, acorns,\nvegetables, and cheese made from milk. I should say that bread is no\nlonger in the truly idyllic sphere; we must, however, allow to it\nflesh-eating; for it is hardly possible that our idyllic shepherds and\nshepherdesses could have wished to sacrifice their herds exclusively\nto the gods. Their occupation will consist in looking the whole day\nlong after their beloved herds with their faithful hound, in providing\ntheir food and drink, and along with this giving vent, with as much\nsentimental feeling as possible, to every kind of mood which does not\ndisturb this condition of repose and contentment. In a word, they are\nsatisfied with their peculiar piety and gentleness, piping away on\ntheir reed or oat-pipes, warbling to each other, and above all making\nlove with the greatest tenderness and innocence.\n\nThe Greeks, on the contrary, possessed in their plastic representations\na more jubilant world, with its attendants of Bacchus, Satyrs and\nFauns, who, in their harmless service of a god, stimulated animal\nlife and human joviality with a vivacity and truth totally different\nfrom the above pretentious innocence, piety, and emptiness. We may\nalso recognize the same essentially animated outlook on the world as\nillustrated in lively pictures of national condition, in the Greek\nBucolic poets such as Theocritus; this is so whether our poet lingers\nover actual situations of the life of fisher-folk, or shepherds,\nor extends the mode in which he expresses this, or similar spheres\nof life, to a yet wider circle, either depicting such states in an\nepic form, or treating them in lyric form and that of the objective\ndrama. Virgil already sings to us with less warmth in his Eclogues.\nMost tedious of all, however, is Gessner, so tedious that I suppose\nno one reads him nowadays. We can only wonder that the French ever\nhad so much taste for him that they even ranked him highest among\nGerman poets. Their morbid sensibility on the one hand, which evades\nthe tumult and changes of life, while yearning also for some kind of\nmovement, and on the other the absence of all true interest in such\npoetry, so that the otherwise disturbing influences of our culture were\nnot represented--both of these factors, no doubt, contributed to this\npreference.\n\nWe may reckon as a further class of this hybrid type of Epic those\npoems which are half description and half lyrics, a favourite type\nwith the English, and one which for the most part accepts for its\nsubject-matter Nature, the Seasons, and similar subjects. We may also\nassociate with this type the various _didactic_ poems concerned with\nphysical science, astronomy, medicine, chess, fishing, and hunting--in\nshort, the art which loves to elaborate in a poetic form what is really\nthe content of prose, an art which has been cultivated with much talent\nin later Greek poetry, and after that by the Romans, and, in our time,\npre-eminently by the French. Such poetry, despite its general epic\ntemper, will very readily pass over into the lyric treatment.\n\nThe _romances_ and _ballads_, which we find both in the Middle Ages and\nmodern times, are no doubt poetry of a kind, though it is impossible to\ndefine accurately their type; so far as their content is concerned they\nare in part epic. If we look at the form of their composition, however,\nthey are for the most part lyrical, so that we have perforce to reckon\nthem from different points of view to different types.\n\nThe _romantic_ novel, that Epopaea of _modern society_, opens a\ndifferent field altogether. In this we possess, on the one hand, in\nall its completeness and variety, an epic prodigality of interests,\nconditions, characters, and living relations, the extensive background\nin fact of an entire world. We have also the epic exposition of events.\nWhat fails us here is the _primitive_ world-condition as poetically\nconceived, which is the source of the genuine Epos. The romance or\nnovel in the modern sense pre-supposes a basis of reality already\norganized in its _prosaic form_, upon which it then attempts, in its\nown sphere, so far as this is possible from such a general point of\nview, both in its treatment of the vital character of events and the\nlife of individuals and their destiny, to make good once more the\nbanished claims of poetical vision. For this reason one of the most\ncommon collisions in the novel, and one most suitable to it, is the\nconflict between the poetry of the heart and the prose of external\nconditions antagonistic to it, including with such the contingency\nsuch imply. This is a conflict which may be resolved on the lines of\ntragedy or comedy, or finds its settlement in the twofold conclusion,\nfirst, that the characters which in the first instance contend with\nthe ordinary course of life are taught to recognize in it what is\nthe genuine heart of things, becoming thereby reconciled to their\nconditions and ready to cooperate with them; and, secondly, that they\nlearn how to brush away the purely prosaic aspect of all that they do\nand accomplish, and thereby replace the prose which they have found\nthere with a reality allied and congenial to beauty and art. In so\nfar as the form of the exposition is concerned, the genuine romance\npre-supposes, precisely as the Epos does, the synthesized purvey of\nthe world and life as one whole, the manifold contents of which are\nmanifested within the reach of the individual event which supplies\nthe focal centre of the entire complexus. In his attitude to detail,\nhowever, the poet must here permit himself a freer play both of\nconception and execution, and all the more so because he is here less\nable to avoid the prose of actual life in his descriptions, though this\nfreedom should not make him any more inclined to dwell exclusively in\nsuch an atmosphere of prose and ordinary occurrence.\n\n\n\n\n3. THE HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT OF EPIC POETRY\n\n\nIn looking back upon the course of our previous consideration of\nthe other arts, we find that we reviewed the different stages of\nthe art of _building_ throughout in their historical development as\nsuccessively in symbolic, classic, and romantic architecture. In the\ncase of sculpture, on the contrary, we accepted the Greek type, by\nvirtue of its complete identity with the notion of this _classic_\nart, as the real focal centre, from which we proceeded to develop\nthe specific characteristics of importance, so that here we did not\nfind it necessary to extend so far as in the previous case the range\nof our historical survey. This contrast is further illustrated in\nour treatment of the _romantic_ art-character of painting, which,\nhowever,[29] not merely in respect to the fundamental notion of its\ncontent, but also in that of the mode of its presentation, embraces\nan equally wide and important range of development in different\nnations and through different schools, so that in this case it was\nnecessary to make our reference to history more extensive and varied.\nThe nature of the art of music invited us to historical comparisons of\nthe same kind. Inasmuch, however, as I have neither obtained access\nto the foreign literature dealing with the history of this art, nor\ncan claim personally to possess the adequate knowledge, I have been\nforced to restrict myself to the mere outlines of what is required\nincidentally. With regard to our immediate subject, that is, _epic_\npoetry, the course of our enquiry will be very much that followed in\nthe case of sculpture. In other words, though the mode of exposition\nbranches off in several direct or collateral divisions, and embraces\nmany historical periods and peoples, yet we have already recognized in\nthe Epos of Greek literature the genuine type of it in its consummate\nform and most artistic mode of realization. And the reason of this\nis that in general the Epos possesses the closest affinity with the\nplastic of sculpture and its objective presence; and, not merely in\nrespect to its substantive content, but equally so in the form of its\npresentation as that of phenomenal reality. It is therefore by no means\nsimply an accident that we find epic poetry, no less than the art of\nsculpture, assert itself pre-eminently among the Greeks in its original\nand unsurpassed perfection. Stages of development, no doubt, are to be\nmet with on either side of this culminating point, stages which are\nneither intrinsically subordinate or insignificant, but are necessary\nconditions of the art's growth, inasmuch as all nations are essentially\nwithin the sphere of poetic creation, and it is above all the Epos\nwhich brings before us the heart and core of the national life. And\nfor this reason, the historical development of the Epic is of greater\nimportance than was the case with sculpture.\n\nWe may then classify the entire compass of epic poetry, or, to express\nourselves more accurately, of the Epopaea, in three fundamental stages;\nand these, speaking generally, constitute the course of the art's\nevolution.\n\n_Firsts_ we have the Oriental Epos, which makes the symbolic type its\nfocal centre.\n\n_Secondly_, there is the classical Epos of the Greeks, with its\nimitation in Roman authors.\n\n_Finally,_ we have the abundant and many-sided unfolding of\nepic-romantic poetry among Christian peoples; which, however, in\nthe first instance appears in Teutonic paganism; and again, from\nanother point of view, that is quite apart from what we may style the\nchivalrous poetry of the Middle Ages, we find the old classic world\nactive in another province of life as instrumental to the purification\nof literary taste or style, or still more directly utilized as a model,\nuntil finally the modern romance replaces the Epos altogether.\n\nWe may now proceed to some review of single epic compositions: in this\nit will only be possible to emphasize what is of most importance; and,\ngenerally speaking, I can only pretend to give a rapid outline of this\nfield in the space at my disposal.\n\n(_a_) In the case of Oriental peoples the art of poetry is, as we have\nalready observed, generally of a more primitive type, inasmuch as it\nremains more closely related to what we may style the essential[30]\nmode of envisagement, and the diffusion of the individual consciousness\nin the sublime Unity of the _One._ And because of this, as a further\naspect, and relatively to the specific divisions of poetic composition,\nit is unable to work out individual personality in the self-subsistency\nof determinate characterization, with its aims and collisions, an\nelaboration which is of first importance in the composition of genuine\ndramatic poetry. The most essential result therefore we meet with here\nis limited--if we exclude from attention an endearing, sweet-scented,\nand delicate type of lyric, or one that uplifts itself to the one\nunutterable God--to poems, which are to be counted of the epic mould.\nNevertheless it is only among the Hindoos and the Persians that we come\nacross the genuine Epopaea; but here at least we do meet it in colossal\nproportions.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The Chinese, on the contrary, possess no national Epos. The\nprosaic basis of their imaginative vision, which even to the earliest\norigins of history offers the jejune form of a prosaically organized\nhistorical reality, opposes from the first to this the most noble\ntype of epic composition an insuperable obstruction. The religious\nconceptions of this people, little adapted as they are to artistic\nconfiguration, contribute to the same result. We find, however, at a\nlater date and as some compensation, for their elaboration is most\nprofuse, little narratives, and romances spun out to great length,\nwhich astound us by the vividness in which situations are realized,\nthe accuracy with which private and public relations are depicted,\nthe variety, fine breeding, or rather I should say frequently the\nfascinating tenderness they display, more particularly in their female\ncharacters, and in short by the art in every respect which succeeds in\nmaking works so consummate.\n\n(_\u03b2_) A world of great contrast to the above presents itself in the\nHindoo Epopaea. We find already in the most primitive compositions,\nif we may form an opinion from the little made known to the general\npublic up to the present time from the Veda, most fruitful germs for\na mythology fitted to epic exposition; and these, associated with the\nheroic exploits of men many centuries before Christ--for chronological\naccuracy is still impossible--are elaborated into genuine Epopaea,\nworks, however, which are still composed in part from the wholly\nreligious point of view, and in part from that of unfettered poetry and\nart. Pre-eminently do the two most famous of these poems, namely the\nRamajana and the Maha-Bharata, place before us the entire world-outlook\nof the Hindoo race in all its splendour and glory, its confusion,\nfantastical absurdity and dissolution, and withal, from the reverse\npoint of view, in the exuberant loveliness and the here and there fine\ntraits of heart and emotion, which characterize the profuse vegetation\nof its spiritual growth. Mythical exploits of men are expanded into the\nactions of incarnate gods, whose deed hovers vaguely between the divine\nand human nature, and the determinate outlines of personality and\nexploit are dissolved in an infinitude of extension. The substantive\nbases of the whole are of a type such as our Western world-outlook,\nassuming that it does not choose to surrender the higher claims of\nfreedom and morality, is neither able to find itself truly at home\nin or to sympathize with. The unity of the particular parts is of an\nextremely unstable kind; and layers upon layers of episodical matter,\nconsisting of tales of the gods, narratives of ascetic penances, and\nthe powers they create, tediously long expositions of philosophical\ndoctrines and systems, so entirely impair the collective unity that we\nare forced to regard many of them as later accretions. But, however\nthis may be, the spirit from which these stupendous poems have\noriginated bears constant witness to an imagination, which is not only\nanterior to all prosaic culture, but as a rule is wholly incompatible\nwith the faculty of ordinary common sense, and is capable in fact of\nendowing the fundamental tendencies of this national consciousness, in\nits essentially unique and collective conception of the universe, with\nan original artistic form. The later Epics, on the contrary, which are\ncalled _Puranas_, in the more restricted sense of the term, that is,\npoems of the Past, appear rather to be compiled in the prosaic and dull\nstyle similar to that adopted by post-Homeric cyclic poets, and pursue\ntheir downward course at great length from the creation of the gods and\nthe universe to the genealogies of human heroes and princes. Finally\nthe epic care of the old myths dissolves into vapour and artificial\nelegance of a purely external poetic form and diction, while on the\none hand the phantasy, which exhausted itself in a dreamy wonderland,\nbecomes the wisdom of fables whose most important function is to\ninstruct us in morality and worldly wisdom.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We may compare side by side in a _third_ division of epic\nOriental poetry that respectively belonging to Hebrews, Arabs, and\nPersians.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The sublimity of the Jewish imagination no doubt in its\nconception of the Creation, in the histories of the Patriarchs, the\nwandering in the wilderness, _the_ conquest of Canaan, and in the\nfurther historical course of national event, full as such a vision\nis of sterling content and natural truth, possesses many elements\nof primitive epic poetry; the religious interest is here, however,\nso predominant, that, instead of being genuine Epopaea, they merely\napproximate either to religious myths in the guise of poetry, or to\nreligious narratives which are wholly didactic.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The Arabs have always possessed a poetic nature, and from very\nearly days we find genuine poets among them. Even their heroic songs\nof lyric narrative, styled the moallakat, which in part originate in\nthe century immediately previous to Mahomet, depict either with a few\nbold and detached strokes and vehement ostentation, or at other times\nwith more tranquil self-possession, or a melting softness, the original\nconditions of the still pagan Arabs. Here we find the honour of the\nclan, the passion of revenge, the rights of hospitality, love, delight\nin adventure, benevolence, sorrow, and yearning, in undiminished\nstrength, and in traits which remind us of the romantic character of\nSpanish chivalry. Here, too, we meet with in the East for the first\ntime a real poetry, without fantastic elements, or prose, without\nmythology, without gods, demons, fairies, genii, and everything else of\nthe kind common to the East, but rather with solid and self-sufficient\ncharacters and, however unique and marvellous in the play of its images\nand similes, yet for all that humanly real and self-contained. We have\nthe vision of a similar pagan world also set before us by a later age\nin the collected poems of Hamasa, as also in the not yet edited \"Divans\nof the Hudsilites.\" After the extensive and successful conquests of the\nMohammedan Arabs this primitive heroic character gradually disappears;\nand, in the course of the centuries, the province of Epic poetry is\nreplaced in part by the instructive fable and the witty proverb, in\npart by the fairy-like narratives, of which the \"Thousand and One\nNights\" is an example, or in those tales of adventures which R\u00fcckert,\nthrough a translation which reproduces for us the equally witty and\nartistically elaborate Macamen of the Hariri in their metre, rhymes,\nand articulate meaning, has unveiled in a manner deserving thoughtful\nattention.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In some contrast to this the efflorescence of Persian\npoetry falls in the period of that reconstructed culture effected\nby the change of language and nationality under the influence of\nMohammedanism. We, however, come across, in the very first opening of\nthis lonely springtime, an epic poem which, at least in its material,\ntakes us back to the remotest Past of ancient Persian saga and myth,\nand carries forward its narrative through the heroic age right down\nto the last days of the Sussanides. This comprehensive work is the\nShahnameh of Firdusi, the son of the gardener of Tus, a work the\norigins of which are traceable to the Bastanameh.[31] We are, however,\nunable to call even this poem a genuine Epopaea, because it does not\nmake any specific and individual line of action its focal centre. On\naccount of the lapse of centuries we lose our hold of the costume\nappropriate to an age or a locality, and in particular the most ancient\nmythical figures and gloomy intricate traditions hover in a world of\nthe phantasy, among the indefinite outlines of which we are often at a\nloss to know whether we are face to face with persons or entire clans;\nand then again we are often suddenly confronted with really historical\ncharacters. As a Mohammedan the poet was no doubt able to handle his\nsubject-matter more freely; but it is just in this type of freedom\nthat we fail to meet with the stability in definite characterization,\nas it was present in the design of the primitive heroic songs; and, on\naccount of the great gulf which separates him from that long-buried\nworld of saga, the freshness and breath of its immediate life vanish,\nthough absolutely necessary to the national Epos.\n\nIn its further course the epic art of the Persians expands into\nLove-epopees of excessive softness and sweetness, as an author of which\nRisami is pre-eminently distinguished. It further makes use of its\nrich stores of life-experience in the interest of the teacher. In this\nsphere the far-travelled Saadi was master. Finally, it plunges into\nthat pantheistic Mysticism, which Dschelaleddin Rumi recommends and\nteaches in tales and legendary narrative.\n\nI must, I fear, restrict myself to the above sketch.\n\n(_b_) In the poetry of _Greece_ and _Rome_ we find ourselves for the\nfirst time in the genuine sphere of epic art.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Among these above all are included of course the _Homeric_ poems,\nwhich we have already noted as the culminating point of all.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Either of these poems, despite all that may be advanced to the\ncontrary, is essentially self-complete, so definite and sensitive to\nits construction as a whole, that in my own opinion the very view\nwhich regards the present form of both as merely that in which they\nwere sung and handed down to posterity by rhapsodists, simply amounts\nto little more than the just eulogy of such works in virtue of the\nfact that they are, with regard to the entire atmosphere of their\ncontent, national and realistic, and even in their particular parts\nare so consummately finished, that all and each of them may be taken\nas a whole in itself. Whereas in the East what is substantive[32] and\nuniversal in the poet's survey still impairs the individuality of\ncharacter, and its aims and exploits by its symbolism or deliberate\ninstruction, and thereby injures the definite articulation and unity of\nthe whole. Here for the first time in these poems[33]we find a world\nbeautifully suspended as it were between the general life-conditions of\nmorality in family, state and religious belief, and the individuality\nof distinctive character, and in this fair balance between the claims\nof spirit and Nature, intentional action and objective event, between a\nnational basis of enterprise and particular aims and deeds, even though\nindividual heroes appear as the predominant feature in their free and\nanimated movement, yet this too is so mediated by the distinctiveness\nof the aims proposed and the severe presence of destiny, that the\nentire exposition can only remain even for ourselves the _ne plus\nultra_ of all attainment that we can either enjoy or admire in epic\ncomposition. For we find no difficulty here in recognizing the real\nsignificance of even the gods who withstand or assist these primitive\nmasculine heroes in their bravery, their straightforward and noble\nactions: nor can we fail to return the merry smiles of an art which\ndepicts them as we see them here in all the _na\u00efvet\u00e9_ of their very\nhuman, if also godlike impersonations.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The _cyclic_ poets of an age subsequent to the Homeric poems\ndepart more and more from this genuine type of epic poetry. On the one\nhand the tendency here is to break up the completeness of the national\nworld-survey into its petty provinces and aspects; and from another\npoint of view, instead of retaining a firm grasp of the poetic unity\nand distinctive character of an individual action, to insist more\nexclusively on the completeness of events as an historical series,\nor on the unity of the personality, and by so doing to assimilate\nepic poetry with the already emphasized historical impulse of the\nlogographers in their historical compilations.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Finally Epic poetry of a still later date after the time of\nAlexander either turns aside to the more limited province of bucolic\npoetry, or introduces more learning and artifice than is compatible\nwith the truly poetic Epopaea being at last wholly didactic, a type\nwhich increasingly suffers to escape every vestige of the primitive\nfreshness, simplicity and animation.\n\n(_\u03b2_) This characteristic, with which the Epos of the Greeks\nterminates, is from the first predominant among the _Romans._ An epic\nBible, such as are the Homeric poems, we shall therefore seek for here\nin vain, however much critics have attempted, even quite recently, to\nresolve the most ancient Roman history into national Epopaea. On the\nother hand, even from the earliest times, along with genuine epic art,\nof which our finest extant example here is the \u00c6neid, the historical\nEpos and the didactic poem supplies us with a proof that it is the\nRomans who are mainly responsible for the elaboration of that province\nof poetry which is already half prose; just as also it was in their\nhands that the _satire_ received its most perfect form, being also that\nmost congenial to their character.\n\n(_c_) For this reason epic poetry could only be infused with a fresh\nbreath and spirit through a change in its outlook on the world and in\nits religious belief, and through the actions and destinies of new\nnationalities. This is what we have in the case of the _Germans_,\nnot only as we see them in their primitive paganism, but also after\ntheir conversion to Christianity. It may be further illustrated by\nthe Romance nations and all the more strongly, in proportion as their\nsubdivision into groups is more complete, and the principle of the\nChristian view of life and reality is unfolded in all its various\nphases. Yet it is precisely this many-sided expansion and subdivision\nwhich oppose to a brief survey great difficulties. I will consequently\nonly draw attention to and emphasize fundamental tendencies.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In our _first_ group we may reckon the residue of genuine poetry,\nwhich later nationalities have still retained from an age previous\nto Christianity, for the most part by means of oral tradition, and\nconsequently not wholly unimpaired.\n\nWe may include above all among these the poems which are usually\nascribed to _Ossian._ Although English critics of repute, such as\nJohnson and Shaw, have been blind enough to publish them as the sole\ncomposition of Macpherson, it is none the less wholly impossible that\na poet of our own time could create from his own resources alone such\nancient social conditions and events; consequently we must presuppose\nhere previous poems as the foundation of such a work, although too\nin their entire atmosphere, and the mode of conception and feeling\nexpressed in them, many changes more in accord with our modern life may\nhave been introduced in the course of so many centuries. It is true\ntheir actual date is not established; they may, however, very well have\nretained a vital form in the mouth of the folk for one thousand or even\nfifteen hundred years. Taking them as a whole their form appears to\nbe predominantly lyric. Ossian is here presented as the old minstrel\nand hero, who has lost his sight, and suffers in a retrospect of\nlament, the days of glory to rise before him. Yet although his songs\noriginate in woe and mourning they nevertheless are in themselves\nfundamentally epic; for even these lamentations refer to what has been,\nand depict this world which has now just vanished, with its heroes, its\nlove-adventurers, its exploits, its expeditions aver sea and land, its\nchance of arms, its destiny and its downfall, in just the same epic and\nrealistic way--although broken here and there with lyrics--as we find\nin Homer the heroes Achilles, Odysseus, or Diomede, talking of their\nexploits, expeditions, and mischances. Yet the development of spiritual\nemotion, and indeed of the entire national existence, despite the fact\nthat here heart and sentiment have a more exacting r\u00f4le to play, is\nnot carried so far as in Homer's case. Most of all we miss the assured\nplastic form of his characterization and the daylight clarity of his\npresentment. We are, in short, so far as _locale_ is concerned, exiled\nin the tempestuous mists of the North, with its gloomy sky and heavy\nclouds, upon which the spirits ride or appear to heroes, raimented in\ntheir form. We may add that it is only quite recently that other Gaelic\nminstrels of olden time have been discovered, rather connected, so\nWallis informs us, with England than Scotland or Ireland, minstrelsy\nhaving been for a long time continuous in that country, which already\nmust have possessed a considerable literature.\n\nIn these poems we have among other things reference to emigrations to\nAmerica. Mention is also made of Caesar; but the reason here given for\nhis invasion is a private passion for some king's daughter, whom he saw\nin Gaul and followed to England. As a striking characteristic of their\nform triads are worthy of attention, which combine in three organic\nparts three events of similar character, though dating from different\nperiods of time.\n\nFinally, and more famous than these poems, are on the one hand the\nheroic songs of the more ancient Edda, and on the other the myths with\nwhich for the first time in this cycle of song along with the narrative\nof human destinies we also come across various histories concerning the\norigin, exploits, and downfall of the gods. I must, however, confess\nI have been unable to acquire a taste for the empty exuberance of\nthese origins of a natural philosophy of symbolism, which, however,\nare further attached to the appearance of particular human form and\nphysiognomy, such as Thor with his hammer, the Werewolf, the wild\nmead-carousals, and in a word, the savagery and troubled confusion of\nsuch a mythology. We must admit, of course, that all that intimately\nconcerns this folk of the North lies nearer to ourselves than, say,\nthe poetry of the Persians and Mohammedanism; but to press upon the\neducated man among us such an admission to the point that it has still\nat this time of day a claim upon his sympathy, and indeed ought to\npass for us as something national--such an assumption, though often\nventured, means not merely to overrate conceptions, which are to a\ngreat extent misshapen and barbarous, but also to wholly misunderstand\nthe significance and spirit of our own times.\n\n(_\u03b2_) If we, _secondly_, cast a glance over the poetry of the\nChristian Middle Ages, what we ought in the first instance and above\nall to consider are those works which have, without more direct and\npenetrating influence of the old literature and culture, sprung up from\nthe fresh spirit of the Middle Ages and consolidated Catholicism. Here\nwe find the most multifold elements ready to supply the material and\nstimulus of epic poetry.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) We may in the _first_ place draw retention to that truly epic\nsubject-matter which comprises in its content interests, exploits, and\ncharacters of the period mentioned of a wholly _national_ character.\nAmong these the Cid is pre-eminently worthy of our notice. The\nsignificance of this blossom of national heroism in the Middle Ages to\nthe Spanish, this is set before us in epic guise in the poem Cid, and\nthen at a later date with more attractive excellence in a succession\nof narrative romances, which Herder first brought to the notice of\nGermany. We have here a string of pearls, every single picture entirely\ncomplete in itself, and yet all so admirably in tune with each other\nthat they make a consistent whole; though throughout composed in\nthe spirit of chivalry, yet at the same time Spanish and national;\neminently rich in the content of their varied interests, whether these\nconcern love, marriage, honour, or the mastery of kings in wars waged\nbetween Christians and Moors. All this material is voiced in so epic\nand plastic a style, we have set before us the pertinent fact so simply\nin the purity of its exalted content, and withal with such a wealth of\nthe noblest pictures of human life displayed in a panorama of the most\nglorious exploit, and all this bound together in a wreath so fair and\nfascinating, that we moderns may compare it with the most beautiful\ncreations of the ancient world.[34]\n\nAs a matter of fact it is as impossible to compare the Nibelungenlied,\nas it is the Iliad and Odyssey, with this world of romance, which,\nhowever dissevered in fragments it maybe, is none the less epic in\nits fundamental type. For although in the former precious and truly\nGerman work we have no lack of a national and substantive content, in\nrespect to family, matrimonial affection, duty of vassalage, loyalty\nof service, heroism, and, in a word, genuine marrow and substance,\nyet the entire collision, despite all its epic breadth of vision, is\nrather one of a dramatic type, than truly epic, and the exposition,\nwith all its detail, neither tends towards the individualization of\nits abundance, nor to a presentment that is wholly lifelike; and from\na further point of view it is frequently squandered in pure harshness,\nsavagery and ferocity, so that the characters, although we find them\ncompactly braced and robust in action, yet in their abstract ruggedness\nrather resemble coarse images of wood, than are comparable to the\nhumanely evolved, genial individuality of the Homeric heroes and women.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) A second fundamental source of such literature is to be traced\nin the religious poems of the Middle Ages, which take as their subject\nthe life of Christ, or those of the Madonna, the Apostles, the saints\nand martyrs and the Last Judgment. The most essentially complete\nand rich composition, however, the genuine art-Epic of Catholic\nChristianity in the Middle Ages, the greatest subject-matter and the\ngreatest poem is in this sphere Dante's Divine Comedy. It is true that\nwe cannot call even this severely, rather I should systematically\norganized poem, an Epopaea in the ordinary sense of the term. For\nwe have not here one progressive action, individual and exclusive,\non the broad basis of the entire poem: what, however, we do get in\na conspicuous degree in this Epos is the most secure articulation\nand consummate finish. Instead of a particular event it has for its\nsubject-matter the eternal event, the absolute end, the Divine Love\nin its imperishable eventuality, and in its unalterable circles'\nof relation to the object. Possessing further Hell, Purgatory, and\nParadise for its locality, it plunges the living world of human action\nand suffering or, more closely, that of individual acts and destinies\nin this changeless existence. Everything single and particular in human\ninterests and aims here vanishes before the absolute greatness of the\npurpose and end of all things; at the same time, however, what is\notherwise most perishable and evanescent in the living world receives\nhere a completely epic form objectively based on its own innermost\nlife, and adjudged in its worth and unworth by the supreme notion of\nall, that is God. For as individuals were in their life and suffering,\ntheir opinions and accomplishment on Earth, so are they here set before\nus for ever consolidated, as it were, into images of bronze. It is in\nthis way that the poem embraces the totality of the most objective\nlife, that is, the eternal condition of Hell, of Purification, and\nof Paradise; and it is on these indestructible foundations that the\ncharacters of the actual world move in their particular personalities,\nor rather they _have_ already moved, and are henceforward rendered\nmoveless, together with their action and being, in the everlasting\nrighteousness, and are themselves eternal. The Homeric heroes indeed\nendure in _our_ memories through the song of the Muse. These characters\nassert their condition on their own account, and in the cause of their\nown individuality: they do not so much exist in our imagination;\nthey are _themselves_ essentially eternal. The perpetuation through\nthe Mnemosyne of the poet has here the objective force of the very\njudgments of God, in whose Name the most dauntless spirit of his time\nhas damned or beatified the entire present and past.\n\nThe exposition also must perforce follow the above character of an\nobject, which is received rather than given. It can only be a wandering\nthrough a world that is for ever determined; which, although it is\ndiscovered, organized, and peopled with the freedom of the imagination\nwherewith Hesiod and Homer created their gods, nevertheless undertakes\nto give us a picture and a report of what has actually happened, an\naccount full of energetic movement, yet plastic in the rigidity of its\npains; rich in the flashes of its horror, yet mitigated pitifully in\nHell through Dante's own sympathy; more gracious in purgatory, but none\nthe less fully and completely elaborated; and, finally, translucent as\nlight in Paradise, and for ever without materia form in the eternal\nether of thought.\n\nThe ancient world no doubt peers into this world of the Catholic\npoet, but only as the guiding star and companion of human wisdom and\nculture; for, where it is a question of doctrine and dogma, it is the\nscholasticism of Christian theology and love which speaks.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) A _third_ fundamental subject-matter, which arrests the interest\nof the poetry of the Middle Ages, is that of _chivalry._ This interest\nis not merely limited to its worldly and romantic association with\nlove-adventure and tilting matches, but is occupied with religious\nobjects in virtue of the mysticism of Christian knighthood. The\nactions and events of such compositions have no relation to national\ninterests; they are matters effected by individuals, which only\nconcern the personal agent as such; they are generally similar to\nwhat I have described in my previous reference to romantic chivalry.\nIndividuals are consequently placed in a position of complete freedom\nand independence. A novel form of heroism is thereby created within a\nsocial environment that is not as yet stereotyped to the prosaic mode\nand temper; a heroism, however, which, on account of interests which\nin part are due to religious phantasy, and in part--that is from the\nworldly point of view--are wholly personal and imaginary, eschews that\nsubstantive Real, upon the basis of which the Greek heroes are united,\nor as units contend, are victorious or are vanquished. Despite all the\nvaried epic compositions, which such a course as the above occasions,\nthe adventurous character of the situations, conflicts and plots rather\ntends, on the one hand, in the direction of a treatment usually met\nwith in romances, where the various examples of adventure are loosely\ninterwoven in no more stringent bond of unity, and on the other to that\nwhich, while sharing the general features of such works, is not evolved\non the background of a consistently organized civic order and a truly\nprosaic condition of general life. Moreover the imagination is not\ncontent with the mere invention of knightly characters and adventures\noutside the pale of the ordinary world of things; it furthermore\nassociates the exploits of the same with important legendary centres of\ninterest, pre-eminent historical personages, decisive conflicts of the\nage, and receives by doing so, if we view its broader lines, at least\na foundation such as we found indispensable to epic creation. Such a\nbasis, however, we shall find is as a rule commingled with fantastic\nelements, and is unable to secure the clarity of objective vision in\nits elaboration, which above all distinguishes the Homeric Epos. Add to\nthis the fact that on account of the very similar treatment accorded\nto the same subject-matter by Frenchmen, Englishmen, Germans, and to\nsome extent even Spaniards, we fail to find here relatively at least,\nand if we contrast it with that of the Hindoo, Persian, Greek, and\nCelt, the essentially national temper, which in the last-mentioned\ncases constitutes in its security the epic core of the content and its\nexecution. I must, however, excuse myself here from entering further\ninto the detail of this aspect, either by way of illustration or\ncritical judgment. It will be sufficient if I merely draw attention to\nthe larger circle, within which the most important of these Epopaea of\nknight-errantry are to be met with if we estimate them relatively to\ntheir subject-matter.\n\nAs a _leading_ figure in this respect we have first Charles the Great\nwith his peers in the conflict fought against Saracens and pagans. In\nthis Frankish circle of legend feudal chivalry forms a background of\nprime importance, and branches off into poems of every description,\nwhose most significant material is concerned with the exploits of one\nof the twelve heroes, such as Roland or Doolin, of Maintz and others.\nMore particularly in France during the reign of Philip Augustus many of\nsuch Epopees were composed. We have a _further_ garland of legend with\nan English source, one which aims at reproducing the exploits of King\nArthur and the Round Table. Legendary tale, the chivalry of Normans and\nEnglishmen, service to woman, the fealty of the vassal, are all here\ninvolved together in melancholy or fantastic combination with Christian\nmysticism. The search for the Holy Grail, that chalice containing the\nsacred blood of Christ, is, indeed, one main object of all knightly\nexploit, and every description of fantastic adventure originates\nin this source, until, finally, the entire company takes flight to\nAbyssinia. The above two subjects of legendary story are worked out\nwith most completeness in Northern France, England, and Germany. And\nas a last illustration we have a _third_ circle of chivalrous poetry,\ncomposed with yet more caprice and less substantive content, which\never tends to emphasize knightly heroism to an excess with ideas of\nfairyland and fable; this rather points to Portugal or Spain as its\noriginal nursery. In this the family of the Amadi are accepted as\nprincipal heroes.\n\nThe great allegorical poems, so much beloved mainly in Northern France\nin the thirteenth century, are more nearly prose compositions in their\nabstract type. I will only mention one example of these, that is, the\nfamous _Roman de la Rose._ We may compare or rather contrast such\nwith the many anecdotes and still lengthier narratives, the so-called\n_fabliaux_ and _contes_, which rather borrow their subject-matter from\ncontemporary life, tales of knights, priests, citizens, and above all\n_amours_, lawful and the reverse, retailed to us sometimes in the comic\nvein, at others in the tragic, now in prose, and again in verse. Such\nwas the type of writing which the clear intellect and trained culture\nof a Boccaccio carried to its perfection.\n\nThere is a final class of such compositions, which, turning to the\nancients--with a casual knowledge of the Epic of Homer and Virgil, or\nancient legend, celebrates also, in precisely the manner of the Epopaea\nof chivalry, the exploits of Trojan heroes, the foundation of Rome by\n\u00c6neas, the conquests of Alexander, and other like subjects.\n\nAnd this will conclude what I have to say upon the Epic poetry of the\nMiddle Ages.\n\n(_\u03b3_) In a _third_ principal group of which I have still to speak,\nthe rich and pregnant study of _ancient_ literature marks a point of\ndeparture for the purer artistic taste of a new culture, in whose\nlearning, assimilation, and blending of diverse elements, however,\nwe frequently miss that primitive creative power, which we admire in\nthe Hindoos, Arabs, as also in Homer and writers of the Middle Ages.\nIn the many-sided development in which, dating from this age of the\nre-awakened sciences and their influence on national literatures, the\nactual conditions of mankind undergo a reform in religion, political\ncondition, morals, and social relations, epic poetry also seizes hold\nof the most varied content, as also the most manifold forms, the\nhistorical course of which I can only direct attention to in its most\nessential characteristics.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) _First,_ we may remark that it is still the _Middle Ages_, which\nnow, as previously, supplies the material for the Epos, although the\nsame is conceived and presented in a new spirit, namely, one permeated\nwith the culture of classic literature> We find here pre-eminently two\ndirections in which the art of epic poetry displays itself.\n\nOn the one side the awakening consciousness of the age shows a\nnecessary tendency to treat as ridiculous all that is capricious in\nthe adventurous feats of the Middle Ages, all that is fantastic and\nexaggerated in chivalry, all that is merely formal in the independence\nand personal isolation of the heroes, and which is now contained within\na social reality embracing more abundance of national conditions and\ninterest; a consciousness which further brings this entire world before\nour vision in the light of comedy, which does this, however much\nwhat is really genuine within it is also asserted, with seriousness\nand delight. As the culminating points of this genial conception\nof the entire world of chivalry I have already pointed to Ariosto\nand Cervantes. I will therefore in the present passage merely draw\nattention to the brilliant facility, the charm and wit, the loveliness\nand intense ingenuousness, with which Ariosto, whose poem still hovers\namong the poetic aims of the Middle Ages, merely in a more veiled\nand humorous fashion makes what is fantastic vanish away by means of\nthe incredibility of his nonsense, while the profounder romance of\nCervantes already assumes knight-errantry to be a Past behind it;\nwhich, consequently, can only enter into the real prose and presence of\nlife as vanity in its isolation and fantastic folly; yet at the same\ntime it gives equal prominence to its great and noble aspects in their\ncontrast to what is awkward, stupid, devoid of reason and order in this\nvery prosaic reality, making the defects of the same live before our\neyes.\n\nAmong writers who have contributed to a _second_ phase in this type\nof epic development I will merely mention the representative name\nof Tasso. In his \"Jerusalem Delivered\" this poet, in contrast to\nthe poetry of Ariosto, selects for his central theme, without any\nadmixture of the humorist's temper whatever, the great and common\naims of Christian chivalry, the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, the\nvictorious pilgrimage of the Crusades, and, after the model of Homer\nand Virgil, creates an Epos with enthusiasm and study, which may even\nbe compared with the great prototypes abovementioned. And no doubt we\ndo discover in this work, quite apart from a genuine, and, in part,\ntoo, national and religious interest, a type of unity, development,\nand elaboration of the whole such as we have previously fixed as a\nprimary condition. We may add to this a fascinating music in the\nverse, which makes the same still harmonious to living speech. What,\nhowever, is pre-eminently wanting in this poem is just that kind of\nprimitive origin which is alone able to create the real Bible of\nan entire nation. In other words, instead of having, as in Homer's\ncase, a work which, as true Epos, expresses once for all in language,\nand with direct simplicity, that which the nation is through its\nactions, the epic in question rather appears simply a poem, that is, a\npoetically constructed event. We are mainly pleased and satisfied with\nit in virtue of the artistic effect of its beautiful speech and form,\nwhether we consider its more lyrical aspects, or its epic descriptions.\nConsequently, however much Tasso may have taken Homer for his model in\nthe collective arrangement of his material, in the entire spirit of the\nconception and presentation it is rather and in chief the influence of\nVirgil that we actually discover in the work, and of course do so not\nto the poem's advantage.\n\n_Finally_, among the great Epopaea, which are constructed upon the\nbasis of a classic culture, we must include the \"Lysiad\" of Camoens.\nIn the subject-matter of this entirely national composition, which\ncelebrates the bold sea-faring of the Portuguese, we are already beyond\nthe true Middle Ages, and have interests unfolded, which inaugurate a\nnew era. But here, too, despite the glow of its patriotism, despite\nthe life-like character of the descriptive matter, based for the most\npart upon the author's own experience, we are still conscious of a\nreal barrier between the subject that is national and an artistic\nculture which is partly borrowed from the ancients and in part from the\nItalians, and which impairs its impression as a truly original epic.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The essentially new manifestations in the religious belief and\nactual composition of modern life originate in the principle of the\nReformation. The whole tendency of this general change of outlook is,\nindeed, rather favourable to lyric and dramatic, than epic poetry.\nBut we do find nevertheless, even in the latter sphere, an autumnal\nblossoming of the religious Epopaea, of which the pre-eminent examples\nare Milton's \"Paradise Lost\" and Klopstock's \"Messias.\" In breadth\nof culture, gained through study of the ancients, and the correct\nelegance of his language, Milton is no doubt an admirable master\nof his age. In the profundity of his content, in energy, original\ninvention and execution, and, above all, in the epic objectivity of\nhis presentment, however, he is in every respect inferior to Dante.\nFor not only does the conflict and the catastrophe of \"Paradise Lost\"\ntake a direction which is contrary to its dramatic character; but, as\nI have above incidentally observed, it is, in a unique way, supported\nby a lyrical impulse and ethical or didactic predilections, which lie\nfar enough away from the subject in its original form.[35] I have\nalready, in discussing Klopstock, referred to a similar cleft between\nthe material and the form, which a particular age gives to it in its\nepic reflection. In the case of Klopstock, moreover, an endeavour is\nthroughout apparent through a rhetoric, which is little more than the\ncaricature of the Sublime, to infuse the reader with that recognition\nof the worth and solemnity of his subject, which the poet has himself\nexperienced. From a somewhat different point of view we arrive at very\nmuch the same conclusion in the case of Voltaire's \"Henriade.\" At any\nrate here too the poetry is an artificial production, and all the more\nso, inasmuch as the material, as already observed, is not adapted to\nthe truly primitive Epos.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) If we try to discover really epic compositions in our own day\nwe shall find ourselves in an atmosphere totally different from that\nof the genuine Epopaea. The general condition of the world to-day has\nassumed a form, which, in its prosaic character, is diametrically\nopposed to everything which we found indispensable to the genuine Epos,\nwhile the revolutions, which have been imposed upon the actual social\nconditions of states and nations, are still too strongly riveted in\nour memory as actual experiences that they should be able to receive\nan epic type of art. Epic poetry has consequently taken refuge from\nthe great national events in the narrow circle of the domestic life\nof individuals in the country and in the small town, striving to find\nhere the material adapted to epic composition. In this way, more\nparticularly among us Germans, the Epic has become idyllic, after the\ngenuine Idyll, of the sweet sentimentality and wishy-washy type, died\nout.\n\nAs an example lying close to hand of an idyllic Epos I will merely\nmention the \"Luise\" of Voss, as also and above all Goethe's\nmasterpiece, \"Herman and Dorothea.\" In the latter work we have\nno doubt our attention directed to the background of the greatest\nworld-event of our age, with which the circumstances of the innkeeper\nand his family, of the pastor and the apothecary, are directly\nassociated. And inasmuch as the little country town is not placed\nbefore us in its political relations we at once remark a gap in the\nnarrative which is not explained or mediated by any connecting link.\nYet it is precisely through this omission of the intermediate link\nthat the whole keeps its unique character. For with the stroke of a\nmaster Goethe has removed the revolution into the background, despite\nthe fact that he has known how to make the most happy use of it in the\nenlargement of his poem. He only interweaves such circumstances with\nthe action as, in their simple humanity, connect themselves absolutely\nwithout constraint with domestic and civic conditions. The main point,\ntherefore, is that Goethe in this work has succeeded in detaching from\nthe reality of our modern life traits, descriptions, conditions, and\ndevelopments, and depicting the same, which in their province once more\nmake that alive which contributes to the imperishable charm of those\nprimitive human conditions of the Odyssey and the patriarchal picture\nof the Old Testament.\n\nIn respect to other spheres of our present national and social life\nI would observe in conclusion that in the field of epic poetry there\nare practically unlimited opportunities for the _romance_, the\n_narrative_, and the _novel._ I am, however, unable, even in the most\ngeneral outline, to follow the history of these in the breadth of their\ndevelopment from their first appearance until the present time.\n\n\n\n[Footnote 1: _Die echt poetische Abrundung._ Not, however, merely\nliterary finish, but complete ideal totality.]\n\n[Footnote 2: _Einem bestimmten Tone_. Perhaps more truly \"a particular\nstrain or atmosphere.\" But both aspects are suggested.]\n\n[Footnote 3: There is a misprint here _eine recht_ for _einer echt_,\nand also I should prefer eight lines lower down _die_ for _das_\nagreeing with _Freiheit_ rather than _Leben._]\n\n[Footnote 4: This sentence is obviously ironical, but the sense\nintended is not very clear. The words _die sic_ are clearly a misprint\nfor _die sick,_ and I presume _kindisch_ is not used in its more common\ndepreciatory sense of childish. I am, however, not very confident of\nmy translation. _War es ein Zeichen_ would apparently refer back to\nthe general intention of the previous sentence, _i.e.,_ the attempt of\nKlopstock and others to make a national book.]\n\n[Footnote 5: See vol. I, pp. 240-289, and particularly pp. 270-289.]\n\n[Footnote 6: _Eine Sittlichkeit._]\n\n[Footnote 7: Poet., c. 14.]\n\n[Footnote 8: That is to say, that the whole remains intact in its\nopposition. The question of international ethics is not directly\nconsidered, though reference is here made to historical evolution in\nits widest sense.]\n\n[Footnote 9: Wrong that is inflicted on a state which is, as a whole,\ninnocent.]\n\n[Footnote 10: I presume the reference is mainly to the United States.\nHegel's sentence is _so m\u00f6chten diese nur den Sieg dereinstiger\nAmericanischer lebendiger Vern\u00fcnftigkeit \u00fcber die Einkerkerung in ein\nins Unendliche fortgehendes Messen und Particularisiren darzustellen\nhaben._ It may be doubted, perhaps, whether he would have expressed\nhimself with equal confidence in our own day. At least the position of\nthe German States of his own time no doubt was strongly present in his\nmind.]\n\n[Footnote 11: _Von einem anderen beschr\u00e4nkt._ Curtailed, I imagine, as\na spontaneous and free power.]\n\n[Footnote 12: That is acting in subservience to eternal forces, not\ndirecting those forces. Hegel conceives the event as supplying the\nlines of direction through which the forces are effective.]\n\n[Footnote 13: _Aus der Dumpfheit des Bewusstseyns._ Out of the\nconfusions of consciousness.]\n\n[Footnote 14: I have adopted the masculine gender in accordance with\nthe text, though of course it does not imply personality in the\nordinary sense.]\n\n[Footnote 15: I suppose the meaning is that it is a purely objective\npanorama.]\n\n[Footnote 16: _Seiner Sache,_ Somewhat vague and difficult to\ntranslate. It means more than his affair or business.]\n\n[Footnote 17: _Trauer._ Mournfulness or gloom is perhaps better.]\n\n[Footnote 18: Liv., II, c. 32.]\n\n[Footnote 19: Lit., so far as they do not emphasize essential phases in\n(_Momente_).]\n\n[Footnote 20: I presume the allusion is to the way, already\nillustrated, the Homeric gods do not take themselves seriously.]\n\n[Footnote 21: Messias, Canto II, vv, 627-850.]\n\n[Footnote 22: It is possible Hegel means by _geistige_ intelligible.]\n\n[Footnote 23: Act II, sc. 6.]\n\n[Footnote 24: \"O, that I had never shipped hither over the sea, unhappy\nthat I am! Vain was the fancy which befooled me to seek an empty fame\nin France; and now a fatal destiny carries me to this bloody field of\ndeath. O that I were far from here housed at home on the banks of the\nblue Severn, where the mother remained behind and the gentle sweet\nbride mourning for me.\"]\n\n[Footnote 25: \"To Death thou art decreed! A British matron it was that\nconceived thee!\"]\n\n[Footnote 26: \"With vow to slay at everything alive with the sword that\nthe fateful god of battles confronts her with.\"]\n\n[Footnote 27: _Sitte und Settlichkeit._]\n\n[Footnote 28: That is of the Epos.]\n\n[Footnote 29: The course of painting is similar to that of sculpture\nin virtue of the fact that it is wholly of one type, viz., romantic,\nbut it differs from it in being less objective and requiring more\nhistorical illustration.]\n\n[Footnote 30: _Substantiellen_, _i.e.,_ an outlook which concentrates\nattention on the one Divine substance, the essence beneath the\nphenomenal.]\n\n[Footnote 31: I presume this is another Persian composition, but it may\nbe a cult of some kind.]\n\n[Footnote 32: Substantive as contrasted with phenomenal.]\n\n[Footnote 33: That is the Iliad and Odyssey.]\n\n[Footnote 34: What Hegel means to say by this and the following\nparagraph is by no means clear. He first seems to state as a fact\nthat a rivalry may be asserted, or at least has been asserted by\nothers, between the Spanish romances and the finest Greek and Latin\nepic literature, and then immediately afterwards denies the fact so\nfar as the Iliad and Odyssey is concerned. The confusion and indeed\nuncertainty seems to be due to the fact that while explaining the\ndisadvantage in which the German work is placed as compared with the\nSpanish romances, he merely contrasts the Homeric poems with the\nformer. What he apparently means us to infer is that the latter are\nas superior as the German work is, at least as an Epos, inferior. The\nwords \"we moderns\" are apparently ironical. In any case the entire\npassage is, I think, clearly one which needed revision, and it is\npossible that the two paragraphs have been tacked together by Hegel's\neditors from different connections.]\n\n[Footnote 35: As we find it, presumably, in Genesis.]\n\n\n\n\n(B.) LYRIC POETRY\n\n\nThe poetic imagination does not, as the plastic arts do, present the\nobjects of its creation before our vision in an objective shape,\nbut only envisages them to the inward vision and emotions. No doubt\nfrom the first, relatively to certain aspects of this universal type\nof composition, it is the _personal_ quality of ideal creation and\nconstruction which pre-eminently asserts itself in the presented\nwork, and as such is to be contrasted with plastic construction. But\nwhen epic poetry offers to our contemplation its object either in its\nsubstantive universality, or under a mode comparable with that of\nsculptor and painter--in other words, in its living presence--in that\ncase, at least where the art is most consummate, the individual mind\nand soul of the creator involved in the creation disappears before\nthe objective result created. The above personal or subjective aspect\nof mind can only completely be discarded in so far as, in the first\nplace, the entire world of objects and relations are essentially\nabsorbed by it and then permitted to stand forth freely from the\nveiled presence of the individual consciousness, and, further, in so\nfar as the self-centred soul unbars its doors, opens wide its ears and\neyes, extends the purely unenlightened feeling to vision and idea,\nand attaches to this wealth of hidden content word and speech as the\nvehicle of its intimate self-expression. And just in proportion as\nthis kind of communication persists in shutting itself away from the\nobjective manifestation of epic art, to that extent, and precisely\nfor that reason, the subjective type of poetry is bound to find its\nown forms, in a province of its own, wholly independent of the Epos.\nIn other words, the human spirit descends from the objectivity of\nthe object into its own private domain; it peers into its particular\nconscious life; it endeavours to satisfy the desire to reproduce the\npresence and reality of _that_, as displayed in soul, in the experience\nof heart and reflected idea, and in doing so to unfold the content\nand activity of the personal life rather than the actual presence of\nthe external fact. But, again, inasmuch as this expression, if it is\nnot simply to remain the chance expression of mere individuality[1]\nin its immediate feeling and conception, must assert itself in speech\nas the reflection of an inner life that is _poetic_, all that is\nthus envisaged of feeling or otherwise--and however much, too, it\nmay be a part of the poet's unique personality, and be presented\nby him as such--must nevertheless possess a universal validity, in\nother words, it must essentially include feelings and reflections for\nwhich the art of poetry is able to discover the vital and adequate\nmeans of expression. And although, apart from this, pain and desire,\nas conceived, described, and expressed in speech, may lighten the\nheart, and poetic ebullition is unquestionably permissible for such a\npurpose, yet its function is not restricted to such domestic service.\nRather it has a nobler vocation, which is not so much to liberate the\nhuman spirit from emotion, but in the medium of the same. The blind\ntumult of passion surges on in a union with the entire soul-life\nunenlightened, unawakened to the grasp of mind. In such a state the\nsoul cannot assert itself in idea and expression. It is the function\nof poetry no doubt to free the heart from such a prison house, in so\nfar as it presents that life as an object to it. But it does more\nthan this mere translation of content from the immediacy of emotional\nexperience; it creates therefrom an object which is purified from all\nmere contingency of the passing mood; an object in which the soul-life\nin this deliverance returns once more to itself freely and with\nself-conscious satisfaction, and remains there at home. Conversely,\nhowever, this primary objectivisation ought not to be carried to\nthe point of a reflection that actually discloses the individual\nactivity of the soul-life and its passions as it is carried forward in\npractical impulse and _action_; in other words, in the self-return of\nthe individual upon himself in veritable deed. For the most pertinent\nreality of our inner life is still itself an inward something, and\nconsequently this passage from itself can only give us the _sense_ of\ndeliverance from the immediate concentration of heart in its blind and\nformless presence, which now unbars itself in self-expression, and in\ndoing so grasps and expresses what was previously merely felt in the\nform of a self-conscious vision and ideas. And with these remarks I\nthink we have determined in their essential features both the sphere\nand function of lyric poetry as contrasted with the epic and dramatic\ntypes.\n\nAs regards the more detailed examination and classification of our new\nsubject-matter, we cannot do better than follow the course previously\nadopted in our examination of epic poetry.\n\n_First_, we have to discuss the _general_ character of lyric\ncomposition.\n\n_Secondly_, we shall consider the _particular_ characteristics which\nmake the lyric work of art and the types of the same worthy of\nattention in their more direct relation to the lyric poet.\n\n_Thirdly_, we shall conclude the survey with a few remarks upon the\n_historical_ development of this class of poetic work.\n\nGenerally I may remark that this survey will be extremely restricted,\nand for two reasons--first, because I am compelled to reserve the\nnecessary space for the discussion of the dramatic field; secondly,\nbecause I must limit myself exclusively to general considerations,\ninasmuch as the detail embraced by it possesses far more incalculable\nresources of manifold complexity than in the case of the Epos, and\ncould only be treated in greater fulness and completeness if viewed\nhistorically, which is not within the aim of the present work.\n\n\n\n\nI. GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE LYRIC.\n\n\nIn the stimulus of epic poetry is the desire to hear the thing or\nmatter which is unfolded on its own account, and independently of\nthe poet,[2] as an objective and essentially exclusive totality. In\nthe lyric, on the contrary, it is the converse need which finds its\nsatisfaction in self-expression and the coming to a knowledge of the\nsoul in this expression of itself. With regard to the nature of this\neffusion,[3] we may enumerate its most important constituents as\nfollows:\n\n_First,_ there is the _content_ in which soul-life is aware of itself\nand reflects itself in idea.\n\n_Secondly_, there is the _form,_ in virtue of which the expression of\nthis content becomes lyric poetry.\n\n_Thirdly_, there is the stage of conscious life and culture from which\nthe person thus lyrically viewed discloses his feelings and ideas.\n\n(_a_) The content of the lyric work of art cannot comprise the\ndevelopment of an objective action in its possibilities of expansion\ninto all the breadth and wealth of a world. It is the single person,\nand along with him the isolated fact of situation and objects, no less\nthan the mode and manner in which the soul is made aware of itself in\nsuch content, with its private judgments, its joy, its wonder, its\npain, and its feeling, which it presents to our vision. Through this\nprinciple of division and particularity, as present in the Lyric, the\ncontent may be of the greatest variety, associated with every tendency\nof national life. There is, however, this essential distinction, that\nwhereas the Epos combines in one and the same work the spirit of a\npeople in all its breadth, and in its actual deed and fashion, the more\ndefinite content of lyrical poetry limits itself to one particular\naspect, or at least is unable successfully to attain to the explicit\ncompleteness and exposition which the Epos ought at least to possess.\nThe entire wealth of lyrical poetry in a nation may, therefore, no\ndoubt embrace the collective exuberance of national interest, idea, and\npurpose; but it is not the single lyrical poem that can do this.\n\nThe Lyric is not called upon to produce Bibles such as we have\ndiscovered in Epic poetry. It does, however, enjoy the advantage\nof being able to touch upon every conceivable aspect of national\ndevelopment; whereas the true Epos is limited to distinct epochs of\na primitive age, and its success in our more recent times of prosaic\nculture is very jejune.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Within this field of particularization we have, to start with,\nthe _universal_ as such--the supreme height and depth of human belief,\nimagination, and knowledge--the essential content of religion, art, ay,\neven of scientific thought, in so far as the same is adaptable to the\nform of imagination and creation, and can enter the sphere of emotions.\nConsequently general opinions, what is of permanent substance in a view\nof the world, the profounder grasp of far-reaching social conditions\nare all not excluded from the Lyric; and a considerable part of the\nmaterial I have referred to[4] when discussing the more incomplete\ntypes of the Epic falls rightly, and with pertinency into the sphere\nnow under review.\n\n(_\u03b2_) And along with such essentially universal topics we have\nassociated the aspect of _particularity_, which can be so interwoven\nwith what is thus substantive that any specific situation, feeling, or\nidea is thereby seized in its profounder significance and expressed in\na way wholly accordant thereto. This is, for example, almost always\nthe case in Schiller's lyrical work, as also in his ballads; in this\nconnection I will merely recall the superb description of the Eumenides\nchorus in the Cranes of Ibicus, which is neither dramatic nor epic,\nbut lyrical. From a further point of view we may have this combination\nso asserted that a variety of particular traits, moods, occurrences\nare introduced by way of testimony to comprehensive views and maxims,\ninterlaced in vital coalescence by virtue of the general principle.\nThis style of writing is frequently employed in the elegy and epistle,\nand generally in reflections upon life of a comprehensive character.\n\n(_\u03b3_) In conclusion, inasmuch as in lyrical composition what is\nself-expressed is the _individual person_, a content, which is\nextremely slight, will primarily suffice for this purpose. It is, in\nother words, the soul itself, subjective life simply, which is the\ntrue content. The emphasis is therefore throughout upon the animation\nof feeling, rather than upon the more immediate object. The most\nfleeting moods of the moment, the overjoyment of the heart, the swiftly\npassing gleams or clouds of careless merriment and jest, sorrow,\nmelancholy, and complaint, in a word, all and every phase of emotion\nare here seized in their momentary movement or isolated occurrence,\nand rendered permanent in their expression. What we find here in the\ndomain of poetry may be paralleled with what I previously referred to\nwhen describing _genre_ paintings. The content, the subject-matter, is\nhere the wholly contingent, and what is over and above this important\nis exclusively the character of the individual conception and mode of\npresentment, the charm of which in the Lyric will either consist in\nthe aroma of exquisite feeling, or in the novelty of arresting points\nof view, and the genial suggestion of literary phrases and turns which\nsurprise.\n\n(_b_) In the _second_ place we may observe in general with respect\nto the _form_, wherein the Lyric is composed, that here too it is\nthe individual person, in the intimacy of his ideas or emotion that\nconstitutes the focal centre. The growth of the whole is rooted in the\nheart and temperament; it starts, to be more precise, from a particular\nmood and situation of the poet. By virtue of this fact the content and\nconjunction of the particular aspects of its growth are not inferred\nfrom it objectively as a substantively independent content, or from\nits external manifestation as some really self-exclusive event, but\nare borrowed from the individual subject as such. But for this reason\nit is essential that the individual in question should himself appear\npoetical, rich in fancy and feeling, or imposing and profound in his\nviews and reflections, and above all should be essentially independent,\nthe possessor of a unique ideal world, from which the servility and\ncaprice of a prosaic nature is excluded.\n\nThe lyric poem, then, retains a mode of unity wholly different from\nthat of the Epos, in other words, the mysterious intimacy of the\nmood or reflection, which expatiates upon itself, mirrors itself\nin the objective world, describes itself, or concerns itself as it\nwills with any other matter, always, however, retaining the right\nin the pursuit of such an interest to begin and break off very much\nas it pleases. Horace, for instance, very frequently comes to a stop\nat the very point, where, in the commonplace view of its literary\ntreatment, we might suppose he had only just started with his subject.\nIn other words, what he describes is simply his feelings, commands or\narrangements for a banquet, say, without giving us further information\nas to how it went off. In the same way we have every conceivable mode\nof progression and combination supplied by the nature of the mood, the\nactual condition of the individual soul-life, the degree of passion,\nits excitement or rapid transition of conflicting emotion, or the\ntranquillity of the heart or the mind in some long-drawn process of\ncontemplation. As a rule, in respect to all such subject-matter, we\nare able to determine very little that is fixed, owing to the repeated\nchanges in the ever varied facets of the soul. I will therefore\nrestrict myself to a few salient points of distinction.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Just as we met with several specific kinds of epic poetry which\nshowed a tendency to adopt a lyric vein of expression, so, too, the\nLyric may accept as its subject-matter and its form an occurrence,\nwhich, so far as content and external appearance are concerned, are\nepic, and to this extent it will approximate to the latter type. Heroic\nsongs, romances, and ballads belong to such a class. The form of the\nwhole is in such examples narrative, inasmuch as it is the progressive\nadvance of a situation or event, as among other instances, a particular\ndirection in the fate of a nation, which is communicated. And yet at\nthe same time the fundamental temper is wholly lyric, inasmuch as the\nmain object is not to give us a description and representation of the\nactual fact apart from all relation to the narrator, but rather to\ndisclose his personal attitude to it in the way he conceives and feels\nit, whether with delight or complaint, whether as a stimulus to good\nor depressed spirits, the mood in short that rings throughout it. And\nsimilarly the nature of the impression which the poet endeavours to\nproduce thereby is entirely that of the province of the lyric. In other\nwords, what the poet seeks to effect in his audience is precisely that\nstate of emotion, which the recounted event has produced in himself,\nand which he therefore has attached to his composition. He expresses\nhis dejection, mourning, merriment, his fire of patriotism, and so\nforth, in an appropriate occurrence in such a way that it is not this\nfact so much which contributes, as it were, the focus, but rather the\nstate of his emotional life we find reflected therein. And for this\nreason he, above all emphasizes those traits, and depicts the same with\nfeeling, which are in accord with his own personal impulses; and in\nthe degree of vivacity with which these are expressed by them the same\nfeelings are likely to be excited in his audience. And thus, though the\ncontent may be epic, the treatment is lyrical.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) To come yet more directly to detail there is, first, the\nexample of the _epigram_, in such a case where it is not merely an\ninscription which states concisely the bald nature of some fact, but\nfurther associates with this an emotional state; where, in short, the\ncontent, regarded as the bare statement of external fact, is merged\nin a condition of the soul. In other words, the writer here ceases\nto surrender himself wholly to the object: rather he makes his own\npersonality expressive in it; he records his desires with regard to it;\nhe attaches to it his own sportive fancies, his acute or unexpected\nsuggestions and associations. The Greek Anthology contains many such\nwitty epigrams which have lost the epic manner. In more recent times\nwe find similar examples in the piquante couplets of the French,\nabundantly illustrated in their Vaudevilles. We Germans have much the\nsame thing in our didactic distiches, Xenien, and the like. Even tomb\ninscriptions frequently approximate to this lyrical character in virtue\nof the strong emotions expressed.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) In much the same way the Lyric accepts a wider range in\ndescriptive narrative. I will merely mention, as a composition of this\nclass, the _romance._ It is the most obvious and simple form of it, in\nso far that is as it isolates the different scenes of an event, and\nthen depicts rapidly and with the full force of their most important\ncharacteristics each on its own account, in descriptions marked\nthroughout by sympathetic feeling. Such a consistent and well-defined\ngrasp of the characteristic features of a situation, together with an\nemphatic assertion of the writer's absolute sympathy with his subject,\nis above all nobly represented in Spanish literature and makes such\nromances strikingly impressive. A peculiar clarity of atmosphere\nsurrounds these lyrical representations which rather identifies them\nwith the clear-cut definition of objective vision, than with the ideal\nworld of the imagination.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) The class of the _ballad_, in contrast to the above, includes\nfor the most part, if in less degree than the truly epic poem, the\ncompleteness of an independent event, whose reflection, of course, it\nmerely embodies in the most conspicuous of its phases, while it seeks\nat the same time to give full, if concentrated and ideal emphasis, to\nthe depth of the sentiment with which it is throughout interwoven, and\ntherein the plaint, dejection, joy, and so forth, of the soul. English\nliterature above all contains many such poetic compositions in the\nearly and more primitive epoch of its history; and, generally, popular\npoetry delights in the narration of such histories and collisions,\nusually unfortunate, with a true and emotional emphasis calculated\nto make both heart and voice thrill and falter with anguish. But in\nmore recent times also among ourselves B\u00fcrger and, most famous of all,\nGoethe and Schiller, have composed masterpieces in this field; B\u00fcrger\nin virtue of his sombre tone of na\u00efvet\u00e9; Goethe through the impeccable\nclarity of his emotional, no less than imaginative vision, which\nforms the lyrical thread throughout; and Schiller, on account of his\nsuperb emotional emphasis on the fundamental thought which he seeks,\nin a wholly lyrical manner, to express under the form of an event, in\norder thereby to affect the hearts of his readers with a similar lyric\nmovement of feeling and contemplation.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The purely _personal_ element of lyric poetry is rightly\nemphasized in those cases, when the fact of a given situation is taken\nby the poet as an effective means of expressing his _own_ individuality\ntherein. Such is the case in the so-called poems _d'occasion._ So far\nback as the poems of Callinus and Tyrtaeus we find elegies of battle\nbased on conditions regarded as real, which are made the stimulus\nof a personal enthusiasm, albeit the poet's own individuality, his\npurely private affections and feelings, are as yet not so much in\nevidence. The Pindaric Odes also bring to light in their panegyrics\nof particular contests, victors, and circumstances, a vein or impulse\nthat is more private; and yet more in some of the odes of Horace we\nmark a definitely personal motive, or rather expressed thought to\nthe effect, \"I will as myself a man of culture and fame, write a poem\non this subject.\" But the best illustration of all we have in our own\nGoethe, whose partiality for such a style was due to the fact that he\ndiscovered a poem in every incident of his life.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) If, however, the lyric work of art is to be divested of all\n_dependence_ of external occasion and purpose, that may be implied in\nit, and to be composed as a self-subsistent whole on its own account,\nit is obviously essential that the poet also only make use of such\nexternal stimulus as an opportunity to express _himself,_ his mood,\ndelight, sorrow, or modes of thought and reflection generally. The\ncondition of most importance to such an intimate mode of personal\nexpression consists in the poet's ability to absorb the real content\nabsolutely, converting it thereby into his own possession. The true\nlyric poet lives a life of introspection, he grasps relations in the\nlight of his poetic individuality; and, however in varied fashion his\ninner life may be blended with the world around him, in its conditions\nand destiny, what he presents to us exclusively in such material is the\nunique and independent animation of his own emotions and observations.\nWhen, to take our former example, Pindar was invited to celebrate a\nvictor of the Hellenic games, or undertakes this uninvited, he made\nhimself so entirely master of his subject-matter, that his composition\nno longer so much appears a poem _on_ the victor as an effusion of song\ncreated from his own resources.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) If we consider more closely the manner of presentment of such a\npoem _d'occasion,_ we shall, no doubt, be ready to admit that the same\ncan to a real extent borrow its more defined material and character,\nno less than its conceived organization as an artistic work, from the\nactual features of the occurrence or individual which constitute its\ncontent. It is, in fact, precisely from this content that the emotional\nmovement of the poet proceeds. As the most illuminating, though an\nextreme example, I will merely mention Schiller's \"Song of the Bell,\"\nwhich makes out of the varied stages of bell-foundry the significant\nand arresting moments in the composition of the entire poem, and only\nsubject to this introduces the emotional element relevant thereto,\nas also the various observations upon human life and the description\nof its conditions. In a somewhat different manner, too, Pindar makes\nuse of the place of birth of the victor, the exploits of the family\nto which he belongs, or other relations of life as an opportunity in\nhis own person to exalt certain gods to the exclusion of others, or to\nmention these particular exploits and results alone, or to emphasize\nexclusively the observations or maxims he has interpolated. From a\nfurther point of view, however, the lyric poet is absolutely free,\ninasmuch as it is not the external occasion as such, but rather the\npoet's _own_ soul-life which is here the subject; and consequently it\nentirely depends on the particular views of the poet and the character\nof his general mood, what aspects of the subject-matter and in what\nthreads of connection and sequence they shall be composed. In other\nwords, we are unable to predict decisively and _a priori_ the degree\nin which the objective occasion with its given content, or the purely\npersonal factor of poet, shall be predominant, or whether both aspects\nshall on equal terms coalesce.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Furthermore, it is not the incentive and its positive reality,\nbut the ideal movement and conception of the individual soul which\nsupplies the _focus of unity._ The particular mood or general review,\nwhich is aroused poetically by the occasion, these constitute the\ncentre, radiating from which not merely the colour of the whole, but\nalso the embrace of the particular features unfolded, the very mode of\nthe execution and construction, and therewith the build and coalescence\nof the poem as a work of art are determined. In this way, to return\nto our previous example, Pindar possesses in the life-conditions\nof his victors a genuine core of reality for differentiation or\namplification. In the particular poems, however, which he has written\nit is invariably other points of view, another mood altogether,\nwhether it be of warning, comfort, or exaltation, which he makes most\npervasive, and which, although such exclusively belong to the poet in\nhis creative capacity, do none the less give him precisely that grasp\nof all he wishes to touch upon, execute, and hand to posterity in\nthose historical facts, while unfolding therewith the illuminating and\nconstructive power of genius, without which he would fail to secure the\nlyric effect intended.\n\n(_\u03b3_) But, _thirdly_, it is not absolutely necessary for the genuine\nlyrical poet to start from the external occurrence, which he recounts\nin a medium rich with emotion, or, indeed, from any such objectively\nreal stimulus of his efforts. He is, let us repeat, a truly exclusive\nworld _in himself._ He may find there both the original incentive\nand content, and consequently go no further than this ideal world of\ncondition, event, and passion discovered in his own heart and soul.\nThis is that domain in which man becomes, in virtue of his private\ninner life, himself the work of art; while the epic poet avails himself\nexclusively of the hero and his exploits and experiences for this\npurpose.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) And yet in this field, too, an element of narrative may enter,\nwhere, as in the case of the songs of Anacreon, bright little pictures\nof adventure with Eros and the like receive the finish of delightful\nminiatures. Such an event, however, must obviously rather resemble the\nunveiling of a condition of personal soul-life. In a somewhat different\nmode of the same thing Horace, in his _Integer vit\u00e6_ makes use of the\nfact of his meeting a wolf, not to the extent that we can, therefore,\ncall his poem the verse _d'occasion_, but rather regarding this fact\nas the prompting force of his first sentence and the serenity of the\nfeelings of affection with which he concludes.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) As a rule we may also observe that the situation under which the\npoet depicts himself should not restrict itself merely to the _inner\npersonal_ life as such. It must rather attest itself as concrete,\nand thereby we may even say external totality. The poet, in short,\nreveals himself not merely in that inward personal life, but as one\nof the objects of the external world. In the example just cited of\nthe Anacreon odes the poet depicts himself among roses, fair maidens,\nand youths in the merry enjoyment of wine and dance, without regret\nor yearning, without obligation, and yet without dislike of loftier\naims, which, indeed, are not present at all; reveals himself rather\nas a hero, who freely and without reserve, and consequently without\nhesitation or loss, is just this unity, is what he is, a man of his own\ntype, and figures as such in this intimate artistic presentment. In the\nlove-songs of Hafis also we may observe the entire vital individuality\nof the poet in all its changes of content, pose, and an expression\nwhich approaches close to self-conscious humour. And yet his poetry\nis without any specific theme, any objective picture, any god, or\nmythology; or, rather, when we peruse these light-hearted ebullitions,\none feels as though it would be impossible for the Oriental to possess\nany such definite picture and constructive art. He passes easily from\none object to another; he takes his walks abroad, but it is a scene\nin which the entire man, with his wine, his damsels, his court-life,\nand all the rest of it, is placed before us with delightful unreserve,\nwithout passion or self-seeking in the simplicity of his enjoyment eye\nto eye and soul to soul. Improvisations of this type adapt themselves\nin the most various ways not merely to a reflection of the soul-life,\nbut also to external condition. If, however, the poet is absorbed in\nhis own individual experience, we are not so much concerned to hear\nhis particular fancies, love affairs, domestic arrangements, and the\nhistory of his uncles and aunts. We are so invited, for instance,\nin Klopstock's Eidli and Fanny, as to nave some vision given us of\nwhat is of universal human interest, in order that our sympathies may\nbe roused. From this point of view, therefore, such lyrical poetry\ncan readily degenerate into the spurious assumption that what is\nessentially private and particular must necessarily awaken interest.\nOn the contrary, it would be no incorrect description of many songs\nof Goethe if we called them \"Songs of _Comradeship_,\" although they\nare not exactly executed by the poet under such a category. In other\nwords, it is not so much himself that a man offers in society; rather\nhe places his particularity in the background, and converses with the\nhelp of something else, whether it be a story or an anecdote, seizing\nits specific features in some particular mood, and communicating them\nagreeably to such a temper. In a case like this it is not exactly the\npoet, and yet it is himself for all that. It is not himself he gives\nus, but something else as best he can. He is, in short, an actor, who\nruns through an infinite variety of parts. First he lingers on this,\nthen on that; he reviews momentarily a scene, then maybe a group of\npeople. But whatever he may endeavour to reproduce, it is throughout\nhis individual artistic soul-life, his own experience, his own feeling,\nwhich is vitally interwoven with it.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) But, further, in so far as the individuality of self-conscious\nlife is the true source of the Lyric, the poet is justified in limiting\nhis expression to his own moods and reflections without any further\ncombination of them in a concrete situation that includes a truly\nobjective character. It is in this direction that examples of what is\nlittle more than an empty fluting for fluting's sake, the song and\ntrill simply on its own account, will yet give us genuine lyrical\nsatisfaction. In such the words are to a more or less extent merely\nthe vehicle of cheerfulness or sorrow, whose effect, moreover, very\nreadily serves as an invitation to musical accompaniment. Folk-songs\nespecially very often amount to little more than this. In the songs of\nGoethe, too, though we may no doubt discover here a more defined and\nabundant mode of expression, it is not unfrequently simply a single and\ntransitory bit of merriment that is vouchsafed, a passing mood that the\npoet does not attempt to throw aside, but on the tune of which he pipes\nfor a moment in his tiny song. In others, of course, his treatment of\nsimilar moods is on a larger scale, even systematic, as, for instance,\nin the poem: \"_Ich hab mein Sach' auf nichts gestellt_,\" in which the\npoet passes before us as things that come and vanish, first, money\nand property, then women, travel, fame, honour, and, last of all,\nfight and war, retaining throughout as the ever-recurring refrain of\nstability his own free and careless cheerfulness. Conversely, however,\nthe intimate individual life may from the same point of view grow in\ndepth and expansion, in conditions of the soul of the most imposing\nproportions and ideas that embrace the world itself. A considerable\nnumber of Schiller's poems are of this type. What is great, what opens\nto intelligence, this is the incentive of his heart. But he will\nneither celebrate in hymn fashion a religious or otherwise profound\nsubject; nor will he be the minstrel who looks for inspiration without\nhim to the pertinent fact or occasion. He sings in the presence of, and\ninspired by, his own soul-life, the highest interest of which are the\nideals of life, beauty, and the imperishable claims and thoughts of our\nhumanity.\n\n(_c_) There is a _third_ consideration we have to deal with in\nconnection with the general character of lyric poetry. It is the nature\nof the general stage of human development and culture from which the\nisolated poem originates.\n\nIn this respect, too, the Lyric occupies a position which is to be\ncontrasted with Epic poetry. In other words, while we regarded as\nnecessary for the full bloom of the true Epos a phase in the nation's\ngrowth which was, speaking generally, undeveloped, at least in the\nsense that it had not ripened in the prosaic acceptance of its actual\nlife, the times which favour most of all lyrical composition are those\nwhich already are in possession of a more or less fixed organization\nof social condition. It is in such a period that the individual seeks\na reflection of his intimate personal life in contrast to this outer\nworld, creating from it and within its limits an independent whole\nof emotion and idea. For in the Lyric it is not, we repeat, the\nobjective solidarity and individual action, but the individual person\nas self-conscious life which supplies both content and form. This,\nhowever, must not be understood in such a way as though the individual,\nin order to express himself in lyrical form, must perforce disjoin\nhimself from every connection with national interests and the opinions,\nand with rigid and exclusive severity remain as he stands.\n\nOn the contrary, with such an abstract self-subsistency we should only\nhave left us for content the wholly contingent and particular passion,\nthe mere caprice of concupiscence and affection, false idiosyncrasies\nand distorted originality would have unlimited opportunities. Genuine\nlyrical poetry, like all other poetry, has no doubt to express the\ncontent of the human heart in its truth. Yet none the less, regarded as\nthe content of the Lyric, what is most a matter of fact and substantial\nmust appear absorbed in personal feeling, vision, imagination, and\nthought. And, in the _second_ place, the question here is not so much\nsimply expression of the personal inner life, is not so much concerned\nwith a primary and direct statement in the epic fashion, what the facts\nare, as with an expression of the poetical nature in a manner both\nartistically fruitful and wholly different from chance and ordinary\nmodes. It follows that the Lyric requires, precisely on account of the\nfact that the concentrated life of the heart unfolds itself in manifold\nfeelings and comprehensive views, and the individual is conscious\nof the poetry of his most intimate life as nested in a world that\nis already more prosaically organized--an artistic culture already\nsecured, which must assert itself as the flower and independent product\nof the individual's natural endowment thus trained to a perfect result.\nFor these reasons the Lyric is not limited to particular epochs of the\nspiritual development of a people, but is the rich blossom of the most\nvaried. To an exceptional degree is it favoured in more recent times,\nin which everybody is entitled to have and express his own views and\nemotions.\n\nI will, however, draw attention, in the interest of really important\ndistinction, to the following general considerations.\n\n(_a_) In the _first_ place, we have the type of lyrical expression\npeculiar to _folk-songs._\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In these above all we have witness to the varied and distinct\nqualities of national character. It is on account of this, and\nconsonant with the widely-prevailing curiosity of our generation, that\ngreat efforts are made to collect folk-songs of every kind, in order\nto increase our acquaintance with the peculiarities of every national\nspirit, and therewith our sympathies and vital contact with such.\nAlready Herder has done much in this direction. Goethe, too, with the\nhelp of his own more independent imitations, has materially assisted an\napproach to very different examples of this style of poetry. Complete\nsympathy is, however, only possible for the songs of one's own people;\nand however much we Germans are able to make ourselves at home in\nthe work of foreign lands, the fact remains that the ultimate aroma\nin song[5] of the intimate life of another folk can only appear as\nalien, that we shall only catch the echo of the tone of feeling that\ntruly belongs to it, with the assistance of a more native reflection\nof its content.[6] This Goethe has imported into his songs of a\nforeign subject-matter, stamped as they are with the finest sympathy\nand beauty. We may take as an example the lament of the noble spouse\nof Asan Aga, imitated from the Icelandic--only so far as to retain\nthroughout the unique spirit of such poems unimpaired.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The general character of the lyrical folk-song is comparable to\nthe primitive Epos in virtue of the fact that here too the poet does\nnot make himself his subject-matter, but is absorbed in his selected\nmaterial. Although, therefore, intensity of soul in its extreme\nconcentration may express itself in the folk-song, it is nevertheless\nnot a single person with the artistic expression of whose private\nexperience we are made acquainted. It is rather a national state of\nfeeling, which the author completely assimilates, in so far as it\npossesses, when taken by itself, no intimate form of idea or feeling\nwholly independent of the nation's existence and interests. And a\ncondition is necessary, as the presupposition for such an inseparable\nunion, in which independent personal reflection and culture is not\nyet awakened, so that the poet is simply in his creative capacity\nmerely the vehicle in the background, by means of whom the national\nlife is expressed in its lyrical emotion and general outlook. This\ndirectly primitive character no doubt communicates to the folk-song an\nunconscious freshness of downright grasp and striking veracity, which\nis often very effective; but it receives thereby along with it very\nreadily a fragmentary appearance; it is defective in the continuity\nof its exposition, which may amount to actual obscurity. The feeling\ndives into depth, but cannot and will not attain to full utterance.\nMoreover, as before observed, what is absent from such a point of view\nthroughout, however much the form in general is wholly lyric, in other\nwords subjective, is just the lyrical individuality, which expresses\nthis form and its content as the possession of its _own_ heart and\nmind, and the creation of its _own_ artistic resources.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Peoples, therefore, which confine themselves to poetry of this\ntype, and do not combine such composition with that of the further\nstages of lyrical, epic, or dramatic work, are as a rule in great\nmeasure barbarous nations, uncultured, characterized by transitory\nfeud and catastrophes. If they themselves, in such heroic ages, really\ncombined to form a truly pregnant whole, whose particular aspects\nwere already fused together in an independent and withal harmonious\nobjective union, which could supply the ground for essentially\nconcrete and individually distinct exploits, we should find in them,\nalong with such primitive poetry, epic poets as well. The condition,\nout of which such songs assert themselves as the single and ultimate\nmode of poetic expression, is therefore rather limited to the field\nof family life and the association of clans, without any further\norganization such as belongs already to the riper perfection of the\nheroic community. If we are reminded here and there of national\nexploits, such are for the most part conflicts waged against foreign\naggressors, expeditions of pillage, reprisals of savagery with\nsavagery, or deeds of one individual against another in the same\npeople, in the narration of which lament and dejection or ecstatic\njubilation over one conqueror after another, are the moods throughout\nprevailing. The national life as it actually is, as yet unfolded in its\nwholly free development, is relegated to the background in contrast\nwith the world of more personal feeling, which also, on its own\naccount, betrays an immaturity; and, however much thereby we gain in\nconcentration of effect, the result only too frequently remains, so far\nas content is concerned, rude and barbarous. The question then, whether\nfolk-songs should possess for us a poetic interest, or on the contrary\nrepel us to some extent, depends on the kind of situation and emotion\nthey portray. That which appears admirable to the imagination of one\npeople, will readily strike another as wanting in taste, horrible, and\noffensive. There is, for example, a folk-song which tells us the story\nof a wife who was immured at the command of her husband, and all that\nher plea for mercy could effect was that apertures should be left open\nfor her breasts, in order that she might suckle her child; we are told\nthat she remained alive until her child was weaned. This is a barbarous\nand frightful situation. And in the same way tales of robbery, exploits\nof the bluster or sheer savagery of individuals, possess nothing\nin them in which alien peoples of a higher culture can sympathize.\nFolksongs, consequently, very often run into great detail as to the\nquality of which there is no fixed standard of comparison, because such\nis too far removed from our common humanity. When we consequently, in\nmore recent times, are made acquainted with the songs of the Iroquois,\nthe Esquimaux, and other wild nationalities, the circle of a true\npoetic enjoyment is in no wise thereby enlarged.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Further, inasmuch as the Lyric is the entire expression of the\ninward life of Spirit, it can neither restrict itself to the mode of\nexpression nor the content of the genuine folksong, or of later poems\ncomposed in a similar spirit.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In other words, on the one hand, it is of essential importance,\nas already remarked, that the wholly self-absorbed soul should detach\nitself from this absolute concentration and its direct introspection,\nand should pass on instead to the free grasp of itself which, in the\nconditions above described, is only incompletely the case. On the\nother, it is necessary that it should expand in a world abundant in\nideas, passions, varied conditions, and conflicts, in order to endow\nwith ideal expression everything that the human heart is essentially\nable to apprehend, and then communicate as the birth of its own spirit.\nFor the collective wealth of lyrical poetry should express in poetic\nform all that the inner life comprises, so far as the same can pass\ninto poetry, and therefore finds itself at home alike in all phases of\nspiritual culture.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) And, _secondly_, with the advent of a free self-consciousness\nis bound up the freedom of an assured _art_ of its own. The folk-song\nsings forth, just as any natural song, straight from the heart. A free\nart, however, is aware of itself; it requires a knowledge and desire of\nthat which it produces; and requires culture to promote this knowledge,\nas also an executive power, which is expert in the finest composition.\nWhen, consequently, genuine epic poetry has to conceal the individual\ncreative power of the poet, or rather it lies with the entire character\nof the age of its origin that such should not yet be visible, this\nresult is merely because of the fact that the Epos deals with the\nnation's positive existence rather than that which issues from the\npersonal life of the poet himself, and that it is not present in poetry\nin such a close personal relation, but rather appears as a self-evolved\nproduct essentially independent. In lyrical poetry, on the contrary,\nthe creative activity no less than the content are inseparable from the\ninner life, and are bound to declare themselves as such in actual fact.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In this respect, later forms of lyric art are expressly\ndistinguishable from the folk-song. There are, no doubt, folk-songs\nwhich originate contemporaneously with the works of a genuine lyrical\n_art._ These latter, however, belong to a range and type of individuals\nsuch as--far from participating in more modern stages of artistic\nculture--are, in the entire nature of their general outlook, not yet\nliberated from the immediate popular sense. We must, however, not\nregard this distinction between the Lyric of the folk-song and the\nartistic poem as though it was only when reflection and the artistic\nconsciousness, in union with deliberate executive ability, appear\nwith all the elegance of such a union, that the Lyric attains to its\nperfection. Such a notion would really amount to this--that a Horace,\nfor instance, and the Roman lyric poets generally, were to be reckoned\namong the finest writers of this type, or even in their own range\nthat the Master Singers were preferable to the preceding epoch of\nthe genuine Minnesong. Such an extreme deduction from our previous\nstatement is not justified. What we ought to conclude is this, that\nindividual imagination and art directed to the service of this very\nself-consistent personal life, which in fact constitutes its principle,\npresupposes also, for the basis of their true perfection, a free and\nself-trained recognition of imaginative idea no less than artistic\nactivity.\n\n(_\u03b3_) We have our _final_ phase of composition to distinguish from\nthose already discussed. The folk-song appears before the true\nelaboration of a prosaically organized condition of actual conscious\nlife. Lyric poetry of the truly artistic type, on the other hand,\nwrests itself away from the prosaic coordination which surrounds it,\nand creates from the poet's imagination, in its acquired independence,\na new poetic world of inward observation and emotion, by means of\nwhich, for the first time, the true content and type of expression\ntruly adequate to the human soul, as seen from within, becomes the\nobject of vital art. There is, however, over and above this, a form of\nintelligence which, from this point of view, stands in a more exalted\nposition than the imagination of the emotional or conceptive life,\ninasmuch as it is able, with more penetrative universality and more\nnecessary coalescence to bring its content before our free cognition\nthan is ever possible to art. This is _philosophical thought._\nConversely, however, this form is attached to the abstract condition of\nbeing exclusively evolved in the medium of thought, posited as wholly\nideal universality; and, in consequence, the concrete man may find\nhimself also constrained to express the content and the results of his\nphilosophical consciousness in a concrete way, that is, as permeated by\nhis temperament and sensuous perception, his imagination and feeling,\nin order thereby to possess and exhaust the absolute expression of all\nthat engages either soul or intellect.\n\nFrom such a standpoint we may distinguish between two principal types\nof conceptive activity. It may, in short, either be the imagination\nwhich, straining beyond its own domain, struggles with the movement\nof pure thinking, without successfully attaining the clarity and\nsecured exactness of philosophical exposition. In this case the Lyric\nis for the most part the ebullition of a soul engaged in strife and\ncontention, which in its fermentation does violence both to art and\nabstract thought. It transgresses one province without the ability to\nmake itself at home in another. Or we may find that it is rather the\ntranquil movement of philosophical thought in its essential medium,\nwhich may seek to animate its clearly grasped and systematically\ndeveloped thoughts with emotion, to make them perceptible to sensuous\napprehension, and to exchange the explicit scientific process and\nsequence in its causal necessity for that free play of particular\naspects, beneath the apparently loose connection of which art is\nthe more compelled to conceal their ideal bonds of association in\nproportion as it is disinclined to narrow itself to the jejune style of\npurely didactic exposition. As an illustration of this latter tendency,\nwe may point to many of Schiller's poems.\n\n\n\n\n2. PARTICULAR ASPECTS OF LYRICAL POETRY\n\n\nHaving thus considered the general character of the content of lyric\npoetry, and the mode of its expression, as also the varied grades\nof culture which are more or less consonant with its fundamental\nprinciple, it will be our further task to examine these general points\nof view more nearly in the _detail_ of their more important features\nand relations.\n\nHere, too, I ought at starting once again to emphasize the distinction\nwhich obtains between epic and lyrical poetry. In our consideration\nof the former we directed our attention above all to the primitive\nnational Epos, and merely referred incidentally to the inadequate\ncollateral branches, as also to the poet in his creative capacity.\nThis we are unable to do in the case of the type under discussion. On\nthe contrary, we shall find that subjects of the greatest importance\ninvite our review as respects the individual creative power; and,\non the other hand, in respect to the classification of the several\ntypes in which lyrical poetry, whose general principle it is to\ndisintegrate and isolate the content and its configurations, is\nrespectively differentiated. We may define the subsequent course of our\ninvestigation as follows:\n\n_First,_ our attention will be directed to the lyrical poet himself.\n\n_Secondly_, we propose to examine the lyrical work of art as the\ncreation of the individual poet's imagination.\n\n_Thirdly_, we shall classify the types which are deducible from the\ngeneral notion of lyrical composition.\n\n(_a_) _The Lyric Poet_\n\n(_\u03b1_) Now the content of the Lyric embraces, as we have seen, first,\na type of contemplation, which connects the universal quality of\ndeterminate being with its conditions, and, secondly, the manifold\ncharacter of its detailed aspects. Regarded, however, as pure\ngeneralizations and particular points of view of emotional condition\nthese constituents, both of them, are nothing more than abstractions.\nIn order that these may acquire a vital lyrical individuality, a\nprinciple of combination is necessary which can only be of an ideal, in\nother words really personal[7] character. Consequently the creatively\nconcrete person, the _poet_ himself, must be further presupposed as the\nfocus and in fact realized content of lyrical poetry. He must be there,\nhowever, in a form which is not carried to the point of definitive act\nand deed, or to that of the evolved movement of dramatic conflicts. His\nexclusive expression and activity is on the contrary restricted to the\nfact that he endows his inner experience with an articulate speech such\nas portrays the spiritual significance of himself as subject in his\nself-expression, whatever the material selected may be, and endeavours\nto arouse in and keep the hearer alive to the like meaning and spirit,\nthe same soul-state, the similar course of reflection.\n\n(_\u03b2_) But, furthermore, the expression cannot rest alone in this\nresult, however successful, in so far as it is for others a free\noverflooding of buoyant delight, or the resolution and reconciliation\nof grief in song and lyric, or the yet profounder impulse, which issues\nin the most serious emotions of heart and the most far-reaching views\nof intelligence. The man who sings and can write poetry has a necessary\nvocation thereto. He composes because he _cannot do otherwise._ At\nthe same time the external incentive, the direct invitation and the\nlike are by no means excluded. The great lyric poet, however, in such\na case soon swerves aside from such an external stimulus. His supreme\nobject is himself. To take the example once more to which we have\nconstantly recurred, Pindar was frequently invited to celebrate this\nor that laurel-crowned victor, nay, he frequently accepted payment\ntherefor; and yet, for all that, it is he himself, the minstrel, who\nchanges places with his hero. He combines freely his own unfettered\nimagination with his praise of the exploits of ancestors, or it maybe\nhis memory of myths; or, when he gives voice to his profound views\nof life, of wealth, of mastery, of all that is great and deserving,\nof the supremacy and loveliness of the Muses, and above all of the\nhigh vocation of the singer. It is not so much the hero in the renown\nthat he spreads far and wide, that he honours in his poems. We are\ninvited to listen to him, the poet. The honour is not to him in that he\ncelebrates the victor, but rather to the victor that he is celebrated\nby Pindar. And it is this emphatic personal sense of greatness which\nconstitutes the nobility of the lyric poet. Homer, as an individual\nperson, is in his Epos so entirely sacrificed that people nowadays\nare loth to admit that he ever existed at all. His heroes live on for\never. Pindar's heroes are for us little better than empty names. He\nhimself, however, the self-celebrated and self-honoured, remains before\nus immortal as the poet. The fame which his heroes claim is merely an\nappanage to that of the lyric singer. Even among the Romans the lyric\npoet to some extent aspires to such an independent position. Suetonius\ntells us, for instance, that Augustus wrote these works to Horace; _an\nvereris, ne apud posteros tibi infame sit, quod videaris familiaris\nnobis esse._ Horace, however, with the exception of those times, easily\ndemonstrable, where he writes in an _ex officio_ manner of Augustus,\nbetrays for the most part a precisely similar proud self-consciousness.\nHis fourteenth ode of the third book, for example, opens with a\nreference to the return of Augustus from Spain after his victory over\nthe Cantabrians. But the poet goes on to celebrate the fact, that on\naccount of the tranquillity, which the emperor has given the world, he\nhimself as poet is able quietly to enjoy his easy-going leisure and his\nmuse; he calls for garlands, unguents, and venerable wine to celebrate\nthe occasion, and invites in all haste his mistress--in a word, he is\nsimply preoccupied with the arrangements for his own banquet. We hear,\nhowever, at this time less of his love difficulties than in his youth,\nwhen Plaucus was consul, an occasion where he expressly says to the\nmessenger he despatches:\n\n\n    _Si per invisum mora janitorem_\n    _Fiet, abito_.\n\n\nWe may regard it as an even more honourable trait of Klopstock, that he\nfelt in his day the independent worth of the singer, and by his free\nexpression of this and his regulation of his behaviour consonantly\nthereto, disengaged the poet from his subservience to a court and any\nor every patron,[8] as also from a tedious and useless toying with\ntrifles, which is the ruin of a man. However, the fact remains that\nit was no other than this very Klopstock whom, in the first instance,\nthe bookseller regarded as his poet. It was Klopstock's publisher in\nHalle who paid him one or two thaler, it appears, for the manuscript\nof his Messias, adding over and above this, however, an order for a\nwaistcoat and breeches, and introduced him thus set up into society,\nletting it clearly be seen from the nature of such a get up that\nhe was responsible therefor. In some contrast to this, so at least\nwe are informed at a later date on evidence, however, that is not\nirreproachable,[9] the Athenians erected a statue to Pindar, because\nhe had celebrated them in one of his poems, and sent him, moreover,\ntwice the amount of the fine[10] the Thebans refused to exempt him from\non account of the inordinate praise he had lavished on an alien city.\nIndeed we have the statement that Apollo himself declared through the\nmouth of the Pythian prophetess that Pindar was worthy of receiving\nhalf of all the gifts which the whole of Hellas, as in custom bound,\nbrought to the Pythian games.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Throughout the entire compass of lyric poetry the synthetic unity\nof a single personality asserts its presence in virtue of its poetic\nsoul-movement. The lyric poet is, in fact, moved to express everything\nthat assumes a poetic form either in his emotional or intelligent\nlife in the song. In this type of composition Goethe is pre-eminently\nnoteworthy, who in all the variety of his full life was thus\ncontinuously creative. He was unquestionably in this respect a quite\nexceptional model. It is rarely that we find an artistic personality,\nwho, while retaining as Goethe's did, an interest so active on all\nsides and is able to live a life, despite all such self-expansion, so\nentirely self-possessed, so ready to transmute everything it touches\ninto the poetic vision. His life in its public relations, the peculiar\nnature of his heart, which rather impressed with its reserve than\nthe ease of its approach, the indefatigable effort of his scientific\npursuits and enquiry, the general conclusions of his trained and\npractical experience, his ethical maxims, the impressions, which the\nvaried and conflicting facts of his times made upon him, the inferences\nhe deduced from such, the effervescent joy of life and courage of his\nyouth, the well-organized force and ideal beauty of his manhood, the\ncomprehensive genial wisdom of his old age--all this passed into the\nmagic crucible of his lyrics, where the most delicate play of emotion,\nno less than the most severe and painful conflicts of spirit, alike\nfind their expression and by this means their deliverance.\n\n(_b_) _The Lyric Work of Art_\n\n_Secondly_, in respect to the lyric poem as a poetic work of art, we\nare no doubt in general not able to advance much. The fortuitous\ncharacter of the abundance of its many modes of expression, and\nthe forms of its equally varied and incalculable content make this\ninevitable. The peculiarly personal nature of this class of work,\nhowever much the same is imperatively subject to the general principles\nof beauty and art, none the less brings with it the necessary\nresult, that the range of the formal and melodious possibilities of\nits exposition admit of no theoretic definition. For our purpose,\ntherefore, the only question of importance is the nature of the\ndistinction of artistic type that obtains between the lyric and the\nepic product.\n\nUpon this I will briefly draw attention to the following points of\nimportance:\n\n_First_, the unity of the lyric composition.\n\n_Secondly,_ the nature of its progressive disclosure.\n\n_Thirdly_, the external aspect of its verse-measure and general\nexhibition.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The importance, which the Epos possesses for art lies, as already\nobserved, and pre-eminently so, in the case of the primitive Epopaea,\nin the consummate elaboration of the perfected artistic form, which as\nfrom the repository of the full embrace of the national spirit, places\nbefore our vision one and the same composition in all the wealth of a\ncompletely evolved content.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The true lyric work of art will not undertake to present thus\nbefore us a synthesized whole of such extension. The principle of\npersonality can no doubt proceed to a comprehension of subject-matter\nof universal pretensions. To be able truly to enforce itself, however,\nin its individual independence, it necessarily implies the collateral\nprinciple of disintegration and isolation. At the same time a variety\nof truth, phenomenal or ideal, derived from natural environment,\nthe memory of one's own or another's experience, from mythical and\nhistorical events, and the like, is not therefore excluded: but such\nan extension of view must not be permitted, as with the Epos, on the\nground that it belongs to the unified _complexus_ of a given sphere\nof reality, but is rather solely justifiable for the reason that it\nsprings to renewed life in the memory of the poet, and in his impulse\nand gift of vivid association.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) We must consequently regard the intimate personal life as the\ntrue integrating principle of the lyric poem. This inward life, taken\nsimply, is in part the wholly formal unity of the self-conscious\nself; in part also it is split up and dispersed in the most varied\nparticularity, and the most diverse content of ideas, feelings,\nimpressions, and perceptions, whose power of combination is solely due\nto the fact that it is one and the selfsame personal identity which\nserves essentially as their vehicle. In order therefore that this\nselfidentical subject may form the focal centre of the work of art,\nit must, on the one hand, have reached the point where the mood or\nsituation is _defined_ in its _concreteness_, and on the other it must\n_affiliate_ itself with this isolation of its own possessions as with\nitself to the extent that it feels and pictures itself in the same.\nIt is only by this means that it becomes an essentially defined whole\nof such a personal character, and exclusively expresses that which is\nemphasized by reason of such definition, and is yet coalescent with it.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Lyrical in the most pertinent sense is in this connection the\nemotional mood or colour as concentrated in a concrete condition,\ninasmuch as the sensitive heart is that which is the most vital and\npersonal factor of the subjective lips. Reflection and a contemplation\nwhich is mainly absorbed in generalization very readily tend to the\ndidactic, or are likely to assert what is substantive and positive in\nthe content under an epic mode.\n\n(_\u03b2_) With respect to our _second_ point, viz., the progressive\ndisclosure of the lyric subject-matter, speaking generally, exact\ndefinition is here too out of the question. I shall, therefore,\nrestrict myself to a few searching observations.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The progressive exposition of the Epos is of a dilatory\ndescription, and it expands throughout in the display of an actual\nworld of diversified character. In the Epos the poet projects himself\ninto the _objective_ world, which is set before us in the independent\nform and movement of its own reality. In contrast thereto it is the\nemotions and reflection which in the lyric composition absorb the\ngiven world into themselves, animate the same within this ideal\nelement, and, only after it is itself converted into a constituent\nof this personal life, give form and expression to it in language. In\ncontrast to the epic principle of extension we have therefore in the\nLyric that of _assimilation_,[11] and have above all to seek for our\neffect by means of the implied ideal depth of expression rather than\nthe diffuseness of descriptive or explanatory detail. None the less,\nhowever, between the extremes of an almost speechless conciseness and\nthe idea worked out into absolute lucidity of speech every conceivable\nsort of nuance and degree of clarity is still possible. To as little\nextent is it necessary that a ban be placed on all reflection of\nexternal objects. On the contrary genuinely concrete lyric compositions\ndisclose the individual in his external conditions; they accept,\ntherefore, as an essential feature of their content, natural and\nlocal environment. In fact there are poems entirely limited to such\ndescriptions. In such cases, however, it is not so much the reality\nin its objective presence and its plastic presentment, as the accord\nwith which such objects affect the soul, the mood excited by them,\nthe feelings of the heart under such positive conditions, which are,\nin fact, the lyric result. It is in short not this or that object as\npresented to our eyes, in its several features, which ought mainly\nto impress our inward vision, but the emotional forces which are\nmade vital in the same, and which have for their aim a similar state\nof feeling and contemplation in ourselves. Romances and ballads are\nperhaps the most obvious illustration of this, which, as I have\npreviously maintained, approach the lyrical type in proportion as they\nexclusively emphasize those characteristics of a given event which are\nconsistent with the state of the inner life, in which the poet writes,\nand disclose the course of his narrative in such a way, that we receive\na distinct and life-like echo back again of this personal temper.\nFor such reasons all out and out reproduction of material objects,\neven though stamped with considerable emotion, nay, even the diffuse\ncharacterization of emotional states, can only be of subordinate effect\nin lyrical effort, if compared with concise concentration of effect and\nthe vivid and significant expression.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) We may add that _episodes_ are permissible as well to the lyric\npoet; but he ought to employ them on other grounds than those which\njustify their epic use. In the latter case they are implied in the\nnotion of the externally independent collocation of the different\naspects contained; and, in respect to the advance of the epic action,\nthey also are significant as points of retardation and hindrance.\nTheir lyrical justification is rather subjective in its character. The\nliving personality in short surveys his private world more rapidly;\nhis memory recurs to the most varied subjects on equally various\noccasions; he combines material of the most divergent nature; and,\nwithout departing from his true and fundamental emotional state, or the\nobject of his thought, gives free play on all sides to his imagination\nand contemplation. An animating spirit of the same kind pervades the\ninner poetical life, although for the most part it is impossible to say\nwhether this or that feature in a lyric poem is to be understood as\nepisodical or not. As a general rule, however, digressions, so long as\nthey do not violate the unity, and above all unexpected changes, witty\ncombinations and sudden, or even violent transitions are peculiarly\nappropriate to the Lyric.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) On account of this the nature of the forward movement and bond\nof connection in this domain of poetry may be various, and in some\nmeasure marked by excessive contrast. Generally no doubt the Lyric,\nquite as little as the Epos, adopts the caprices of ordinary conscious\nlife, or the purely scientific consequences, or the speculative process\nof philosophical thought in its necessary development. It requires\nindeed a freedom and self-subsistency in its single features. But\nwhereas, in the case of the Epos, this relative isolation is referable\nto the form of the phenomenal reality, in the type of which its\nrealization is centered, the lyric poet, on the contrary, communicates\nto the particular emotions and ideas, in which he is himself expressed,\nthe character of a free self-assertion. Each and all, although equally\ndistrained from similar modes of feeling and observation, nevertheless,\nas viewed separately, absorb his spirit, which remains concentrated\nupon each severally, until it is diverted to other points of view or\nother emotional states. The movement of the whole may therefore have\nlittle to arrest its tranquil flow, but with equal right we may find it\npass without any mediation, and in one bound to material of a totally\ndifferent character. The poet, instead of following the logical\ncurrent of his thought, becomes, it would seem, in this sudden flight\nof ecstatic intoxication mastered by a force, the pathos of which rules\nand carries him away in spite of himself. The impulse and conflict of\nsuch passionate intensity is so characteristic a feature of certain\nforms of lyric composition, that, for example, Horace in many of his\npoems is at pains to harmonize with deliberate artistic means such\napparently dislocating breaks in the poem's connection. For the rest I\nmust entirely pass over the various intermediate phases of treatment,\nwhich fall between the extremes of the most lucid connection and most\neven flow on the one side, and that of the unrestrained impetuosity of\npassion and enthusiasm on the other.\n\n(_\u03b3_) _Finally_, of our above three divisions of the immediate subject,\nwe have left us to discuss the _external form_ and actual presentment\nof the lyric composition. Above all we shall have to deal with _metre_\nand the _musical accompaniment._\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) It is obvious enough that the hexameter in its even, sustained\nand none the less life-like forward movement is most exceptionally\nfitted as the measure of the Epic. The demand of the Lyric is rather\nfor an extreme _variety_ of metres with every kind of co-ordination\nin their form. The material of the lyric poem in short is not the\nobject in the form wherein it unveils itself in Nature, but the\nmovement of the poet's own soul, the regularity or change of which, its\nperturbation or repose, its peaceful flow or tumultuous wave and leap,\nmust find expression in the time-movement of the word-length, in which\nsuch inward life is asserted. The nature of the prevailing mood and the\nmode of imaginative conception throughout ought to meet with an echo in\nthe verse-measure itself. The lyric effusion indeed is placed in a far\nmore intimate relation to time, regarded as the external medium of its\ncommunication, than the epic narrative, which consigns its phenomenal\nfacts to the past, and associates or interweaves them under a mode of\nextension more analogous to that of spatial condition. The Lyric, in\ncontrast to this, displays the momentary emergence of emotion and idea\nin the temporal juxta-position of their origin and elaboration. It\nhas therefore to clothe in artistic form the varied temporal movement\nitself. To this distinctive character belongs, in the _first_ place,\nthe more diverse sequence of long and short syllables in a more\nstrongly emphasized inequality of rhythmical feet; and, _secondly_, the\nmore varied use of the caesura verse--and _thirdly_ the rounding off of\nthe strophes, which not only admit of abundant alternation in respect\nto the comparative length of particular lines, but also relatively to\nthe rhythmic configuration of these on their own account and in their\nimmediate sequence to each other.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Yet more lyrical in its effect--a second feature this--is\nthe musical sound of words and syllables simply. The most important\nexamples of this are alliteration, rhyme and assonance. In the system\nof versification under discussion what is predominant, as I have\nalready explained in a previous passage, is, on the one hand, the\nideal significance of syllables, the accent of the meaning, which\ndisjoins itself from the purely natural element, as taken by itself,\nof their assured quantity, and then defines under the direction of\nthe mind their duration, emphasis and subordination; which, from a\nfurther point of view, asserts itself in isolation as the expressly\nconcentrated sound of definite letters, syllables, and words. The Lyric\nis pre-eminently associated with this spiritualizing process effected\nby ideal significance, no less than this emphatic insistence of sound.\nIt in fact not merely restricts its acceptance and expression of all\nthat positively is or appears to the meaning which such possesses for\nthe inward life, but also lays hold of sound and musical tone as the\nsignificant medium of its communication. No doubt in this sphere, too,\nthe element of rhythm may associate with rhyme; but even here this\nis effected in a manner which is closely related to the time-beat of\nmusic. Strictly speaking, therefore, the poetic use of assonance,\nalliteration and rhyme is limited to the province of the Lyric. For\nalthough the Epos of the Middle Ages is, in accordance with the nature\nof more modern languages, unable to keep itself aloof from these forms,\nthis is mainly permitted for the reason that here, too, the lyrical\nelement is throughout more insistently active within the domain of\nepic poetry itself, and effects a more forceful entrance where the\nsubject-matter consists of heroic songs, romances, ballads, tales,\nand the like. And we find the same thing in dramatic poetry. What,\nhowever, is the peculiar possession of the Lyric, is the diversified\nconfiguration of rhyme, which is elaborated and perfected by means of\nthe recurrence of similar or the alternation of different letters,\nsyllables and verbal quantity in variously organized and alternated\nstrophes of rhyme. Such differentiation is also of undoubted service\nboth to epic and dramatic poetry, but only on the same ground that\nrhyme itself is not excluded altogether. The Spaniards, for instance,\nin the most cultured epoch of their dramatic development, gave the\nfreest play to such craft in the expression of passion by no means\nappropriate to the genuine drama, interweaving octave rhymes, sonnets\nand the like with more usual verse-measures. By so doing they at\nleast testify, in the continuity of such assonances and rhymes, their\npredilection for the musical element in language.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) _Finally_, lyric poetry, to a far more considerable extent\nthan is possible with the unassisted aid of rhyme, avails itself of\n_music_, by means of which the uttered word becomes veritable melody\nand song. Such a leaning may, moreover, be completely justified. Or,\nin other words, the less lyric subject-matter and content possess on\ntheir own account independence and objective stability, but are rather,\nabove all, of an ideal character, rooted exclusively in the personal\nlife, while at the same time an external medium of articulate arrest\nis essential, to that extent is the demand for a decisive medium of\ncommunication more insistent. Precisely for the reason that it remains\nof ideal intention, the means it employs as a stimulus to others must\nbe the more effective. Such an excitant of our emotional life can only\nbe music.\n\nWe find consequently, even in respect to external execution, that lyric\npoetry is almost invariably associated with musical accompaniment. At\nthe same time we should note an essential gradation in this power of\ncombination. The romantic and above all the modern lyric, no doubt more\nexceptionally so in such songs, in which the temper, the emotional mood\nis predominant, and the function of music is to emphasize and expand\nthis inner beat of soul-life in actual melody--are no doubt most\nreadily adapted to such melodic fusion. The folk-song is an obvious\nexample which both delights in and demands a musical accompaniment. We\nshall find in modern times more rarely a composer for the canzonet,\nelegy, epistle, or even the sonnet. The reason of this is that in\ncases where idea, reflection, nay, even emotion are made completely\nexplicit in the poetry, and increasingly liberated from the bare point\nof spiritual selfconcentration, and, further, from the sensuous medium\nof the art, the Lyric already secures, in its deliverance as speech,\na greater self-stability, and lends itself less simply to a free\nassociation with the vague definition of music. On the other hand in\nproportion as the inner life expressed is not made explicit to that\nextent the aid of melody is required. How it came about, however, that\nthe ancients, despite the pellucid clarity of their diction, availed\nthemselves of music in its actual delivery, and the measure in which\nthey did thus make use of it, I shall have occasion to deal with\nsubsequently.\n\n(_c_) _Types of the Genuine Lyric_\n\nWith regard to specific types, in which we may classify lyrical\ncomposition, I have already referred with more detail to some which\nform the transition step from the narrative form of the Epos to the\nmore subjective mode of exposition. From a contrary point of view it\nmight seem desirable in the same way to demonstrate the beginnings of\nthe dramatic. This inclination, however, of passage to the animation\nof the drama is exclusively and in essentials restricted to the\ncircumstance that the lyric poem too as conversation, without, however,\ncarrying the movement of action to the point of actual conflict, may\nitself accept the external form of dialogue. We shall nevertheless omit\nfurther allusion to these intermediate and hybrid stages, and restrict\nour cursory examination to those forms in which the real principle of\nthe Lyric fully asserts itself. The main cause of this distinction is\nto be found in the attitude, which the artistic consciousness assumes\nrelatively to its object.\n\n(_\u03b1_) To be more definite the poet--this at least is one\ndirection--annuls the particularity of his emotion and idea, and is\nabsorbed in the general contemplation of God or gods, whose greatness\nand might permeates the whole of the personal life, and causes the poet\nas an individual person to vanish. Hymns, dithyrambs, paeans, psalms,\nall belong to this class, which are moreover quite differently treated\nby different peoples. I propose merely to draw general attention to the\nfollowing characteristic of such poetry.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The poet, who is raised above the narrow limitation of his own\npurely personal life and external conditions, or the ideas which are\ntherewith associated, replacing these with that which appears to him\nand his people as absolute and divine, may, in the _first_ instance,\ncompletely depict the divine in an objective presentment, and set\nforth this, as thus projected and executed for the spiritual vision of\nothers, to the honour and power of the glorified god. The hymns which\nare ascribed to Homer are of this character. They contain above all\nmythological situations and histories of the divine Being, in whose\ncelebration they are composed, which are not merely conceived in the\nideas of symbolism, but are clothed in the downright objectivity of the\nEpos.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) In contrast to this, _secondly_, the dithyrambic impulse, in\nits more _personal_ aspect of an exalted divine service--overwhelmed,\nas it is, by the power of its object, shattered and stunned to its\nsoul-foundations--cannot, by reason of the general diffusion of its\nemotional state, go so far as to present an objective image and form.\nIt is more akin to the lyrical absorbtion. We have here simply ecstatic\nrapture of soul. The singer breaks out and forth from himself; he is\nso exalted directly into the Absolute, steeped in the being and might\nof whom he exultantly sings his praise of the Infinite, into the depth\nwhereof he plunges, or that of the natural world, in whose splendour\nthe profound wealth of the Godhead is declared.\n\nThe Greeks, in the solemnities of their worship, have not limited\nthemselves for long to such mere outcries and appeals. They have\nsought to intermingle with such ecstasies the narrative of, definite\nmythical situations and actions. Such expositions interposed between\nthe effusion of lyric poetry, became gradually of most importance, and\ncreated the drama, such narratives being asserted as action in its\nlifelike form, and independently on its own account, a drama, which\nagain in its turn received as a constituent feature the lyrics of its\nchoruses.\n\nEven more searching in its utterance is this impulse of exultation,\nthis adoration, jubel and outcry of soul to the One, wherein the\nindividual discovers the end of conscious life and the true object of\nall might and truth, no less than glory and praise, as we meet it in\nmany of the sublime psalms of the Old Testament. Take the words of the\nthirty-third psalm, for example:\n\n\n    \"Rejoice in the Lord, O ye righteous, for praise is comely\n    for the upright.\n\n    \"Praise the Lord with harp: sing unto him with psaltery and\n    an instrument of ten strings.\n\n    \"Sing unto him a new song; play skilfully with a loud noise.\n\n    \"For the word of the Lord is right; and all his works are\n    done in truth.\n\n    \"He loveth righteousness and judgment: the earth is full of\n    the goodness of the Lord.\n\n    \"By the word of the Lord were the heavens made; and all the\n    host of them by the breath of his mouth.\"[12]\n\n    Or take the twenty-ninth psalm: \"Give unto the Lord, O ye\n    mighty, give unto the Lord glory and strength.\n\n    \"Give unto the Lord the honour due unto his name: worship\n    the Lord in the beauty of holiness.\n\n    \"The voice of the Lord is upon the waters: the God of glory\n    thundereth: the Lord is upon great waters.\n\n    \"The voice of the Lord is powerful, the voice of the Lord is\n    full of majesty.\n\n    \"The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars; yea, the Lord\n    breaketh the cedars of Lebanon.\n\n    \"He maketh them to skip like a calf; Lebanon and Sirion like\n    a young unicorn.\n\n    \"The voice of the Lord divideth the flames of fire.\n\n    \"The voice of the Lord shaketh the wilderness; the Lord\n    shaketh the wilderness of Kadesh,\" etc.\n\n\nAn exaltation and lyric sublimity such as the above contain a power\nof personal detachment,[13] and is consequently less adapted to\nself-absorbtion in the concrete content, wherein the imagination can\nlay hold of the fact in tranquil satisfaction. It is rather inclined\nto soar up in an indefinite enthusiasm, which strains to make present\nto feeling and perception what is unutterable for the intelligence.\nIn this atmosphere of indeterminacy the individual soul is unable to\nenvisage its unreachable object in quiescent beauty, or enjoy its\nself-expression in a work of art. Instead of a tranquil picture the\nimagination sets forth external phenomena without co-ordination and in\nfragments; and, inasmuch as it does not succeed with emotional effort\nin any consistent articulation of its separate ideas, in its positive\nartistic form, too, it employs a somewhat arbitrary and insurgent\nrhythm.\n\nThe _prophets_, who oppose the mass of the community, partly in the\nfundamental tones of grief and lamentation over the condition of their\npeople, partly, too, in this feeling of alienation and decadence, carry\nto yet a further extreme this type of paranetic lyric in the sublime\nflame of their emotion and political indignation.\n\nIn a more modern age of imitation this sublime passion, however, is\nexchanged for a more artificial warmth, which easily cools and becomes\nabstract. Thus, for example, we have much hymn and psalm-writing of\nKlopstock, which possesses neither depth of thought, nor the tranquil\ndevelopment of any religious content whatever. What is expressed\nis, above all, an effort of this exaltation to the Infinite, which,\nagreeably with modern scientific ideas, merely discloses the empty\nincommeasurability and inconceivable might, greatness, and splendour of\nGod, in its contrast to the very intelligible impotence and finitude of\nthe poet.\n\n(_\u03b2_) From a second point of view, we have those types of lyric poetry\nwhich may be described generally as odes, in the more modern meaning of\nthe term. In these, as distinguished from the type above described, it\nis the _personal life_ of the poet, in its independence, which asserts\nitself as a fundamental feature. It is, indeed, the culmination, which\nmay be enforced in a twofold manner.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) From one point of view the poet may, within this new mode of\nexpression, select, as he previously did, a subjective matter itself\nof essential importance, such as the glory and celebration of gods,\nheroes, princes, love, beauty, art, friendship, and the like, while he\ndisplays his inner life as so completely steeped and carried away by\nthis content and its concreteness, that it appears as though, in this\nimpulse of enthusiasm, the subject has wholly mastered his soul, and is\npresent in it now, as the one predominant power. If this was entirely\nso the facts which master him might secure, in their independence, the\nplastic form, motion, and stability of an epic sculpturesque image.\n\nOr, as a converse case, it is just the personal life of the poet\nhimself and its greatness which he seeks to express and make real on\nits own account. As for the object itself, it is that whereof he makes\nhimself master; he assimilates this in his own life, expresses himself\nin and through this. By so doing he freely and without reserve breaks\nup the more positive course of his subject with his own emotion or\nreflection; he illuminates it from within; he changes it; and the final\nresult is that it is not so much the subject, but rather the _personal\nenthusiasm_ in which it has steeped him, which is most effective. In\nthis connection, however, we have two distinct aspects to consider.\nFirst, there is the compelling force of the subject-matter; secondly,\nwe have that independent freedom of the poet which flashes into view\nin its conflict with that which would otherwise master it. It is above\nall the stress of this opposition, which renders inevitable the swing\nand the boldness of utterance and image, the apparent absence of order\nin the ideal construction and course of the poem, its digressions,\n_lacunae_, and sudden transitions, and which preserves the ideal\nelevation of the poet, by means of the mastery with which he is\nenabled, through the artistic perfection of his work, to overcome this\ndisunion, and to produce an' essentially harmonious whole, which places\nhim, as _his_ work, in relief above the greatness of his subject.\n\nIt is to such a type of lyric enthusiasm that many of the Pindaric odes\nare referable, whose triumphant, albeit personal glory is disclosed\nin a mode of rhythm equally conspicuous for its varied movement,\nand yet for all that stringently regulated measure. Horace, on the\ncontrary, more especially where he aims most at self-assertion, is\nrather lacking in warmth and insipid. We detect here an imitative\nartificiality, which vainly endeavours to conceal the purely technical\npreciosity of his composition. The enthusiasm of Klopstock in the same\nway is never entirely genuine. It too frequently gives the impression\nof laboured artifice, despite the fact that many of his odes are rich\nin true and genuine emotion, and stamped with an engaging masculine\nworth and force of expression.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) From another point of view, however, it is not at all necessary\nthat the content itself should be substantial or important. The poet\nis himself, in his own personality, of such weight that he can attach\nto even the more trifling objects worth, nobility, or at least in a\ngeneral way a more exalted interest owing to the fact that they are\nembodied in his poetic work. Many of the Odes of Horace are of this\ntype. Klopstock, too, with many another, may be included in such a\ncategory. In such cases it is not the importance of the material\nitself, which engages the poet's effort, but on the contrary that of\nthe process in virtue of which he exalts what is on its own account\ninsignificant, either in external facts or petty occurrences, to the\nheight of the emotion and idea they excite in himself.\n\n(_\u03b3_) In conclusion, the entire infinite multiplicity of lyrical\nmood and reflection reaches its fullest compass in the sphere of the\n_song_, in which consequently differences of national custom and\ncreative individuality have their freest play. Characteristics of every\nextreme of diversity meet together here, and the task of adequate\nclassification is beset with difficulty. We will restrict ourselves to\npointing out a few of the most general character.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) We have, then, _first_, the _genuine song_ intended for singing\nor purely musical practice,[14] whether in private or before others.\nMuch intelligible content, ideal greatness and loftiness is not\nnecessary. On the contrary, worth, nobility, weight of thought can only\nprove an obstacle to the desire of direct self-expression. Imposing\nideas or reflections, or sublime emotions compel the artist to detach\nhimself from his immediate personality and its interests. And yet it\nis precisely this immediacy of joy and sorrow, what we may call the\nunrestricted and momentary personal experience, which ought to find its\nexpression in the song. And it is on this account that every folk is in\na peculiar way at home and at ease in its songs. Despite the unlimited\nvariety of content and of melodic exposition that offers itself\nhere, every song is without exception distinct from types previously\nconsidered by virtue of the simplicity of its subject-matter, movement,\nmetre, verbal expression, and images. The point of departure is direct\nfrom the soul; the movement of inspiration is not so much from one\nobject to another, but is, generally speaking, centered exclusively in\none and the same content, whether it be a single emotional state, or\nany definite expression of delight or sorrow, that mood, in short, the\neffect of which carries the heart with it. In this emotion or temper\nthe song persists with no interruption in its flight and impression,\nquietly and simply abiding therein without any strikingly bold contrast\nor transitions of idea; and it creates thereby in the even flow of its\nimages this one perfected whole, sometimes without any interruption\nor disunion, at others in a more expansive and consequential survey,\nemploying therewith rhythms adapted to song or the recurrence of rhymes\neasily intelligible and without any considerable complexity. Inasmuch,\nhowever, as it possesses for the most part as its content what is\nessentially transitory we are not to suppose that a nation is likely to\nsing the same songs over and over again, for a hundred or a thousand\nyears. A people which can at all claim progressive development is\nneither so poor nor so so barren as only to possess poets of the song\nat one period of its life. It is just the poetry of the song, which, in\ncontrast to the Epopaea, does not so much die as it is forever being\nawakened anew. This field of blossom starts up afresh every spring; and\nit is only in the case of oppressed peoples, peoples precluded from\nevery advance, which are unable to experience the ever requickened\ndelight in poetic composition, that the old and the oldest songs are\nretained. The particular song, just like the particular mood, arises,\nand then passes; it animates, delights, and is forgotten. Whoever knows\nor sings, for example, the songs which fifty years ago were everywhere\nknown and beloved? Every century strikes its own particular keynote;\nthe previous one sounds out of tune, until it stops altogether. None\nthe less, however, must every song possess not so much a revelation\nof the personality of the singer as a certain community of sentiment,\nwhich meets with response from all sides; which excites in others a\nlike emotion and so, too, passes from mouth to mouth. Songs which are\nnot generally current as such in their time are seldom of the genuine\nstamp. As an essential distinction in the composition of song I will\nmerely emphasize two main aspects which I have already referred to.\nOn the one hand the poet may express his inner life in its emotions\nquite openly and without reserve, more especially the feelings and\nstate of joyfulness, and so that he communicates completely all that\nhe experiences. On the other hand, and in extreme contrast to this,\nhe may only suffer us to surmise through his very speechlessness,\nwhat is brought to a focus in the unopened chamber of his heart. The\nfirst type belongs mainly to the East, and more especially to the\ncareless hilarity and contented expansiveness of Mohammedan poetry,\nthe splendid outlook of which loves to dilate itself hither and\nthither in all the breadth of sensuous perception and witty conceit.\nThe second type, on the contrary, applies with more force to our\nNorthern self-concentration and intimacy of soul-life, which in its\ncompressed tranquillity is often only able to seize hold of objects\nwhich are wholly external and to put suggestions in _them,_ while the\nessentially suppressed spirit is unable to express itself or find a\nbent, but rather, like the child with whom that father in the Erl King\nrides through the night and the wind, dies away with its glow on the\nwick. The distinction above noticed applies also in a broader sense\nto other forms of lyrical composition such as the folk-song and more\nelaborate poetry; it recurs again in the simple song with many shades\nand intermediate links in its variety. With regard to particular forms\napplicable to this class of composition I will restrict myself to the\nfollowing examples.\n\nWe may mention, to start with, the _folk-song_, which, on account\nof its direct appeal, is mainly of the nature of the simple song,\nbeing also generally adapted to singing, or, rather, requiring the\nmusical accompaniment. Its subject-matter is in part national exploit\nand event, in which the nation is emotionally made aware of and\nrecalls again its most essential life; in part, too, feelings and\nsituations are directly expressed which relate to particular classes.\nIt associates, in short, civic life with its natural condition and its\nclosest human relations, and it does so with every variety of note,\nwhether of exultation or sorrow, which may duly harmonize with such.\nIn contrast to the above, we have, secondly, songs of a more various\nand enriched culture, a culture which finds its entertainment in the\ncompanionable amusement of all kinds of pleasantry, graceful turns\nof phrase, casual occurrences, or polite modes of address, or, with\nmore intensity of feeling, recurs to the pathos or necessities of less\nfavoured conditions of life, describing therein both the facts and the\nconsequent feelings they excite, the poet always making his appeal\nfrom his own breast and the facts of his own sympathetic experience.\nIf such songs go no further than the bare narrative, more particularly\nof natural phenomena, the result is likely to be trivial and to betray\nthe lack of imaginative resources. The bare description of emotional\nstates, moreover, not unfrequently fares little better. The truth is\nthat our poet in such descriptions, whether of objective facts or\nemotions, must not restrict his survey to the narrow outlook of direct\nwishes and desires, but must already in the freedom of his intelligence\nhave raised himself into a more serene atmosphere wherein the main\nthing of importance to himself is the satisfaction which the exercise\nof his imagination has afforded. An undisturbed sense of freedom such\nas this, through expansion of heart and delight in conceptive idea on\nits own account, confers on many songs of Anacreon, as also certain\npoems of Hafis and the West\u00f6stliche Divan of Goethe the rarest charm of\nan unfettered creative gift.\n\nThere is a yet further type of composition of this general class,\nto which we must concede a more exalted or, at least, a more widely\nembracing content. The large majority of Protestant hymns composed for\nspiritual edification are essentially songs. They express the yearning\nafter God, the plea for His grace, repentance, hope, trust, doubts,\nfaith, and the like of the religious heart; no doubt, in the first\ninstance, to meet the importunity of the individual soul, but at the\nsame time in a manner of general significance, wherein such feelings\nand states of soul may or ought to apply, to a greater or less extent,\nto every member of the Christian Church.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) We may further return to another division of this class, the\n_sonnet, sestine, elegy, epistle_, and a few other such modes. These\nlatter assert themselves as distinct from the ordinary sphere of\nsong previously discussed. The immediacy of feeling and expression\nis emphasized in this class as a mediating bond with reflection,\nand a contemplation which, while remaining alert to many features\nof its subject, conceives the particular detail of perception and\nsoul-experience under more general points of view. Science, learning,\nand, in short, a wide culture may be here effective; and if also in all\nthe relations thus established the personal life, which connects and\nmediates in itself the particular fact with the general concept, is\nand remains the insistent and predominant factor, yet the standpoint\npresupposed is of a wider and more universal import than that of the\nordinary song. The Italians in particular have given us splendid\nexamples of a highly sensitive type of feeling and reflection in\ntheir sonnets and sestines. Such not only directly expresses in a\ngiven situation states of yearning, grief, longing, and the like,\nor the counterfeit of external objects, with a peculiarly intimate\nconcentration, but includes many a diversion, many a shrewd glance\ninto mythology and history, whether past or present, while remaining\nthroughout able to return upon itself, true to the fundamental demand\nof selfrestriction and concentration. The simplicity of the song is\nincompatible with a culture of this kind. The exalted character of\nthe ode is equally disallowed. As a primary consequence of this the\npossibility of actual musical delivery vanishes; but, on the other\nhand, as some set-off to the absence of musical accompaniment, the\nverbal expression itself, in its sound and composed rhymes, becomes a\nmelodic flow of speech. The Elegy, moreover, may, in the measure of its\nsyllables, its meditation, its comments, and the descriptive display of\nemotional life, assume the form of the Epic.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) The _third_ type of composition in this class is characterized\nby a mode of treatment which in recent times is most clearly\nrepresented among us Germans in the work of Schiller. The majority of\nhis lyrical poems, such as those named by him Resignation, the Ideals,\nthe realm of Shades, Artists, the Ideal and Life, are just as little\nsongs in the true sense as they are odes or hymns, epistles, or elegies\nin the classic sense. Their position, on the contrary, is distinct\nfrom all these types. Their significance consists above all in the\nimposing fundamental thought of their content by the force of which,\nhowever, the poet neither appears to be carried away as a dithyrambic\npoet might be, nor in the press of his enthusiasm is there any\nappearance of conflict with the greatness of his subject. He remains\nrather throughout completely master of the same, and unfolds all\nthat is therein implied from every point of view with his own poetic\nreflection. And he does this in the full impulse of genuine feeling,\nno less than with the comprehensive breadth of his intelligence,\nexpressed with a compelling force in the most admirable and full-toned\nutterance and image, and yet, withal, for the most part in quite\nsimple, if really arresting rhythms and rhymes. These great thoughts\nand fundamental interests, to which his entire life was dedicate,\nappear consequently as the most intimate possession of his spirit. But\nhe does not sing so much as one tranquilly self-absorbed,[15] or to a\ncircle of companions, as the rich-songed mouth of Goethe was wont to\ndo, but as a singer who delivers himself of what is on its own account\nintrinsically of worth in a storehouse of all that is most excellent\nand distinguished. His songs ring out, in fact, much as he says of his\nbell:\n\n\n    Hoch \u00fcber'm niedern Erdenleben\n    Soll sie im blauen Himmelszelt,\n    Die Nachbarin des Donners, schweben\n    Und grenzen an die Sternen weit,\n    Soll eine Stimme seyn von oben,\n    Wie der Gestirne helle Schaar,\n    Die ihren Sch\u00f6pfer wandelnd toben\n    Und f\u00fchren das bekr\u00e4nzte Jahr.\n    Nur ewigen und ernsten Dingen\n    Sei ihr metall'ner Mund geweiht,\n    Und st\u00fcndlich mit den schnellen Schwingen\n    Ber\u00fchr' im Fluge sie die Zeit.[16]\n\n\n\n\n\n3. HISTORICAL EVOLUTION OF THE LYRIC.\n\n\nIt will already have sufficiently appeared from what I have pointed\nout in relation to the general character, as also the more detailed\nfeatures discussed with reference to the poet, the lyrical composition\nand the several types of the art that to a singular degree in this\nprovince of poetry a concrete treatment is only possible which accepts\nthe historical narrative as a constituent feature. The universal, which\ncan be set forth in its independence, does not merely remain restricted\nin its compass, but is also abstract in its valid worth. And this is\nso because in no other art to the like extent does the particularity\nof the time, condition, and nationality, no less than the specific\nidiosyncracy of individual genius, supply the determinating factor of\nthe content and form of the artistic product. But in proportion as the\nstrength of the demand forces itself on our attention that such an\nhistorical exposition should be avoided, I feel myself obliged, in the\ninterests of the very variety of material comprised in the embrace of\nlyric composition, to limit myself exclusively to a very partial survey\nof all that I am acquainted of in this particular class of work, and in\nwhich my lively interest could have been extended.\n\nAs the basis of our general classification of the varied national and\nmore personal lyric compositions, as in the case of epic poetry, we\ncannot do better than follow the order of those radical types under\nwhich artistic creation generally is unfolded, and which we now know as\nsymbolic, classic, and romantic art. As the main division, therefore,\nof our present subject-matter, we may, in other words, adopt a similar\nsequence from Oriental compositions to the Lyric of the Greeks and\nRomans, and then from this to the Slavonic, Romance, and German peoples.\n\n(_a_) Taking, then, the Oriental lyric first, we may observe that it\ndiffers essentially from the lyrical composition of the West through\nits inability to attach to it the independent personality and free\nspirit of the poet, or that unity which characterizes every content\nof romantic art, its essential infinity, reflecting, in fact, the\npotential depth of the romantic soul. Such a distinction is only in\nkeeping with the universal principle of the East. The individual\nconscious life is here, referably to its content, directly absorbed\nin the detail of external fact, expressing itself under the condition\nand specific relations of this inseparable unity. And, from a further\npoint of view, it asserts itself, without being able to secure a\nfirm ground of stability in itself, as opposed to what it conceives\nto be of potency and substance in Nature and the conditions of human\nexistence, which it wrestles to reach whether through emotion or\nimagination, at one time situated towards it rather in the relation\nof pure opposition, at another with more freedom, but in either case\nwith ultimate failure. What we find here, therefore, if we confine\nour attention to _form_, is not so much the poetic expression of\nindependent ideas over objects or their connections, as it is the bare\nmirror of this unreflecting absorption,[17] wherein the individual\nconsciousness does not disclose itself in its own self-concentration\nas free personality,[18] but rather in its self-annulment[19] before\nthe external object or condition. Thus regarded, the Oriental lyric\nfrequently, particularly in its contrast to the romantic, assumes a\nmore objective tone. Here we shall often enough find that the poet does\nnot so much express facts and conditions as they affect him, but rather\nas they are in themselves, a disclosure which frequently bestows on\nthem an independent soul of vitality of their own. For illustration we\nmay take that exclamation of Hafis:\n\n\"Come, O come! The nightingale passeth from the soul of Hafis once\nagain over the scent of the roses of delight.\"\n\nRegarded in another light, the tendency of this lyrical poetry, by\nfreeing the poet from the limitations of his private individuality,\nis to replace this with a kind of primitive expansion of soul, which,\nhowever, very easily loses itself in mere boundlessness, or is merged\nin a deliberate effort to express that which it accepts as object but\ncannot fully penetrate, because this content is itself the formless\nsubstance. For this reason, speaking generally, the lyric of the East,\nmore especially among the Hebrews, Arabs, and Persians, possesses the\ncharacter of hymns of exaltation. With spendthrift prodigality all\ngreatness, might, and glory are lavished upon the creature, in order\nto make all such transitory splendour vanish before the unspeakable\nmajesty of God; or, at least, it never is tired of stringing together\nin some precious chain everything that is lovable or fair, in order to\npresent the same as a thankoffering to the object, be it Sultan, the\nbeloved, or the wine-shop, which the poet has set himself above all\nthings to celebrate.\n\nIn conclusion, if we look more closely at form of expression in this\ntype of poetry, we shall find that it is mainly the _metaphor_, the\n_image_, and the _simile_ which are favoured. For, in the first\nplace, on account of the fact that he is not himself wholly free to\nexpress his own personal life, the poet can only disclose himself in\nsomething else, something external to himself, with the aid of life\nthat can compare with himself. And also we may observe that what is\nhere universal and substantive remains abstract; that is to say, it is\nunable to merge itself in the definite form of a free individuality, so\nthat now, even on its own account, it is only in comparisons with the\nvaried phenomena of the world that it is able to envisage itself; and\nwe may add that both these cases, in the last instance, only possess\nthe worth of being able to assist some comparable approach to that One\nwhich alone possesses significance, and is worthy of honour and praise.\nThese metaphors, images, and similes, however, in which the individual\nsoul, as it asserts itself, is exclusively identified almost to the\npoint of visibility, are not the actual feeling and spiritual state\nitself, but rather a mode of expression which is wholly personal and\nof the poet's composition. What, therefore, the lyrical artist here\nloses in the concreteness of his spiritual freedom, this we find is\nreplaced by the freedom of his expression, which moves forward through\nall the most manifold phases; that is, from the na\u00efve simplicity of\nits images and similes to every conceivable audacity and the acutest\ningenuity of novel and surprising combinations. As regards particular\nnations in which we find this Oriental type of lyric represented, we\nmay mention, first, the Chinese; secondly, the Hindoos; thirdly, and\nto a pre-eminent degree, the Hebrews, Arabs, and Persians. I cannot,\nhowever, enter into any closer description of these.\n\n(_b_) In the case of the second principal division of our present\npoetic type, that is in the Lyric of the Greeks and Romans, it is the\nprinciple of _classic_ individuality which, above all, distinguishes\nits character. In accordance with this principle, the artistic\nconsciousness, which seeks for lyrical expression, neither loses itself\nin the facts of the natural world, nor exalts itself over itself to\nthe height of that Sublime outcry to all creation: \"Let all that hath\nbreath praise the Lord!\" Nor is it absorbed, after divesting itself\njoyfully from all the bonds of finite existence, in that One Being in\nwhich all live and move. Rather the poet here is freely merged in the\nUniversal, regarded as the very substance of his own spirit; and in\nthis personal union within himself attains his self-conscious poetic\nactivity.\n\nAnd just as the Lyric of the Greeks and Romans is distinct from that\nof the _Orientals_, so too, from another point of view, it differs\nfrom the _romantic._ In other words, instead of unveiling its depths\nin the intimacy of particular moods and states of feeling, it rather\nelaborates, to the point of the most explicit definition, this inward\nlife of its individual passion and meditation. And by doing so it even\nretains, even as the expression of this inward spirit, so far as this\nis permitted to the Lyric, the plastic type of classic art. All that\nit communicates, in short, of the views and maxims of life and wisdom,\ndespite all the penetration of its general principle, nevertheless\ndoes not dispense with the free individuality of independent thought\nand conception. It expresses itself less in the wealth of image and\nmetaphor, than directly and categorically. At the same time, also, the\npersonal feeling, at one time in more general relations, at another\nin the form of vision itself, is on its own account objective. In the\nsame mode of individuality the particular types may be classified\nas distinct from each other in conception, expression, phraseology,\nand verse-measure, until they reach the culminating point of their\nindependent elaboration. And as we have found it true of the soul\nitself and its ideas, so, too, the external presentment is of more\nplastic type. In other words, from a musical point or view, it\nemphasizes less the ideal soul-melody of emotion than the sensuous\nverbal quantity in the rhythmical measure of its movement, to which it\nmay further attach the complex mazes of the dance.\n\n(_\u03b1_) With the richest originality this artistic form of Greek lyric\npoetry is perfected. In the first instance we may trace it in those\n_hymns_ possessing a content as yet more akin to the epic mode, which\ndo not so much express in their epic metre a personal enthusiasm as\nthey set before us a plastic image of gods in deliberately objective\noutlines. The next step, so far as metre is concerned, we mark in the\n_elegiac_ syllabic measure, which associates the pentameter with the\nhexameter, which, in the regular recurrence of its ending after the\nhexameter, and with its two equally divided sections, opens the way\nto the complete singularity of the verse strophe. The elegy is also\nthroughout in its tone of the lyric type. This is so in the case of\nthe political elegy no less than the erotic, although, particularly\nas gnomic elegy, it still closely approaches the epic insistence upon\nand expression of the substantive as such, and for this reason almost\nexclusively belongs to the Ionians, with whom the objective point\nof view was generally predominant. In respect also to its musical\nside, it is primarily the aspect of rhythm which is here successfully\nworked out. And, on parallel lines with it, we may observe, thirdly,\nthe development of the _Iambic_ poem in a novel verse-measure. This,\nhowever, is, by reason of the keenness of its invectives, from the\nfirst of a more subjective or personal tendency. The genuine mode of\nlyrical reflection and passion, however, receives for the first time\nits full development in the so-called _Melisian_[20] lyric. The metres\nare more varied, more capable of change; the strophes are more rich;\nthe suggestions of musical accompaniment are more complete in virtue\nof the nature of the accepted modulation. Each poet creates a syllabic\nmeasure which corresponds with his or her lyrical nature. Thus Sappho\nadapts one to a type of composition which is sensuous, inspired with\nthe glow of passion and expressed with an effect which works up to a\nsupreme crisis. Alcaeus moulds one in harmony with his masculine and\nbolder odes. To an exceptional degree, too, the Scoliasts supply many\nindications of the finer nuances of diction and metre by reason of the\nvariety of their content and melodic utterance.\n\nLast of all, the lyric of the _chorus_ is richest of all in the\nwealth of what it unfolds, and not merely so in what concerns idea\nand thought, boldness of transition and connection or the like, but\nalso relatively to its external presentment. The choral song may be\ninterchanged for the single voice, and the ideal movement is not\nmerely satisfied with the bare rhythm of speech and the modulations\nof music, but summons as its associate the plastic pose and movement\nof the dance. The ideal aspect of the Lyric is consequently balanced\nto perfection with the sensuous character of its delivery. The\nsubject-matter of this type of inspired verse is the most substantive\nand weighty. Such poems celebrate the power and glory of the gods,\nor that of victors in the games. Greeks, who not unfrequently were\ndivided in their political relations, found in them the positive vision\nof their national unity. And, partly for this reason, aspects of\ntheir ideal construction are not wanting which approach the objective\nstandpoint of the Epic. Pindar, for example, who reaches the highest\npoint of attainment in this type of composition, moves with ease, as I\nhave already pointed out, from the external motives of his compositions\nto profound observations upon the general nature of ethical principle\nand divine matters, or it may be upon heroes, heroic exploit, the\nfoundations of States, and the like. His creative gift possesses, in\nshort, the plastic sense of realization quite as much as the individual\nsweep of imaginative energy. On this very account, however, it is not\nso much the facts which follow their independent course in the epic\nmanner, as the personal enthusiasm, carried away by its object so\ncompletely that the latter appears to be the burden and product of the\nsoul.\n\nLater lyric verse of the Alexandrines is less an independent\ndevelopment and more a mere scholastic imitation and affectation of\nelegance and correctness of expression, until finally it dissipates\nitself in trifling graces and pleasantries, or seeks to bind up afresh\nflowers of art and life already to hand in a garland of tender feeling\nand conceit, and the witty experiment of eulogy or satire.\n\n(_\u03b2_) Among the Romans lyric poetry finds a soil no doubt fashioned\nfor it in various ways, but of less original productive qualities. The\nperiod of its splendour is limited mainly to the age of Augustus, in\nwhich it is cultivated as the elaborate expression and relaxation of\ncultured society; or indeed, to a considerable degree, it is rather\nan affair of the clever translator or copyist, and the fruit of taste\nand research, than that of spontaneous feeling and really original\nconception. At the same time it must be admitted that, despite the\nlearning and an alien mythology, to say nothing of the preferred\nimitation of Alexandrine models, where the warmth of life is least\napparent, yet as a rule the characteristics of Roman personality no\nless than the individual genius of particular poets, do assert an\nindependent position, and, so long as we put entirely on one side\nthe most intimate soul and expression of the art of poetry, have\naccomplished sterling and consummate results, not merely in the\nprovince of the ode, but also in that of epistles, satires, and elegy.\nOn the other hand, the later type of satire, which follows as a kind of\nsupplement, in its bitterness toward the decadence of the times, its\ngoaded indignation and virtuous declamation, fails to represent the\ngenuine sphere of an unperturbed poetical vision just in the degree\nthat it possesses nothing whatever to oppose to its picture of a\ndemoralized present save this very indignation and abstract rhetoric of\nvirtuous excitement.\n\n(_c_) For this reason, consequently, it is only after more modern\nnationalities have appeared that a really original content and spirit\nare communicated to lyrical composition, as we have previously seen,\nwas the case, too, with the Epic. This is due to the German, Romance,\nand Slavonic peoples, which already, in their previous pagan days,\nbut principally after their conversion to Christianity, both in the\nMiddle Ages and in more recent times, have brought into being, and\ncontinuously elaborated in various ways, a _third_ fundamental revival\nof lyrical creation in what we may generally characterize as the\n_romantic_ art-type.\n\nIn this third branch of its activity, lyric poetry is of so\noverwhelming an importance that its principle is enforced, more\n--especially in the first instance, relatively to the Epos, but\nconsequently in its more modern development and relatively to the\ndrama, with a far profounder significance than was possible with\neither Greek or Roman. Indeed, among certain nations, even genuine\nepic materials are treated exclusively under the type of the lyric\nnarrative; in this way we have compositions as to which we may find\nreal difficulty in deciding the class to which they more truly belong.\nThe cause of this conspicuous tendency towards lyric composition is\nmainly due to the fact that the entire evolution of the life of these\nnations is based on this very principle of subjectivity, which is\nconstrained to assert and clothe what is substantive and objective as\nits own from its own resources, and grows more and more self-conscious\nof this penetration into its own personal wealth. Such a principle\ndeclares its vigour in its least perturbed and most complete character\namong the German peoples. The Slavonic races have, on the contrary,\nfirst to wrestle forth from the Oriental absorption in the substantive\nOne and Universal. Between the two we may place the Romance stock,\nwhich are confronted, in the conquered provinces of the Roman Empire,\nnot merely with the residue of Roman science and culture, but a social\nsystem more elaborate from every point of view. In the process of\nself-fusion with such conditions, they inevitably lose a part of their\noriginal character. As for the subject-matter of this poetry, we may\ndescribe it as dealing with pretty nearly every phase of national or\nindividual development, capable of expressing either the religious or\nsecular life of these nations as it expands in ever widening range,\nand through the process of the centuries reflects in varied condition\nand emotional state the heart of its spiritual substance. And the\nfundamental type of it is either the expression of an emotional\nstate, concentrated to the most intimate self-possession, whether the\nimmediate object of attraction be national and other events, Nature\nand external environment, or simply and solely itself, or whether it\nbe of the nature of reflection, both searching and self-introspective,\nupon all that is implied for itself in such an extension of culture.\nRegarded on its formal side, the plastic character of rhythmical\nversification is exchanged for the music of alliteration, assonance,\nand manifold alternations of rhyme. These novel elements it makes\nuse of sometimes in a quite simple and unassuming manner; in other\nconnections with much art and invention of modes of versification\nwholly distinct in character. At the same time the external delivery\nbecomes increasingly more elaborate in its powers of adaptation to the\naccompaniment of vocal and instrumental music.\n\nIn our classification of the extensive compass of this group, we cannot\ndo better than follow that we accepted in the case of epic poetry.\n\n_First,_ we have the lyric composition of these modern nations while\nstill in the state of primitive paganism.\n\n_Secondly_, there is the richer development of this type in the\nChristian Middle Ages.\n\n_Thirdly_, there is that lyric art based in some measure on the\nreawakened study of ancient art, and in part on the fundamental\nprinciple of modern Protestantism, a principle essential to its final\nelaboration.\n\nIn the present work, however, I shall be unable to discuss with more\ndetail the characteristics of the above development. I will, by way of\nconclusion, merely draw attention to one German poet, whose influence\nhas given in modern times a quite extraordinary impetus to the lyric\npoetry of our own fatherland, and whose services in this respect are\nby no means appreciated by contemporary criticism as they deserve\nto be. I refer to the poet of the Messias. Klopstock is among the\ngreat Germans, who have inaugurated the new artistic epoch of their\npeople. He is a great figure, who, by means of courageous enthusiasm\nand superb self-respect, wrested our poetry from the stupendous\ninsignificance of the Gottsched[21] period, which with its blockish\nsuperficiality had completely destroyed the life of all that is noble\nand of worth in the genius of our race; who has, in short, given us\npoems fully awake to the highest demand of the poet's vocation, in a\nform of thorough artistic excellence, if also somewhat austere, the\nmajority of which are stamped with the permanency of a classic. Some\nof the odes of his youth are dedicated to a generous _friendship_,\nwhich was to him at once symbolic of nobility, staunchness, honour,\nthe pride of his soul, a temple of his spirit. Others have reference\nto a _personal_ attachment of real emotional depth, although it is\nprecisely in this field that we meet with many compositions which a\ncritical sense can only regard as so much prose. \"Selmar and Selma\"\nis a poem of this class, a gloomy and tedious altercation between\nlovers, which, not without many tears, woe, empty yearning, and useless\nfeats of melancholy emotion, revolves round the one mouldy and musty\nquestion, which of the two, Selmar or Selma, is first to die. But in\nKlopstock we find at least a genuine impulse of patriotism alive in\nevery pore. As a good Protestant the Christian mythology, with its\nsacred legends and so forth--we must except the angels, for whom he\nretained as a poet a profound respect, although they can only appear\nabstract and lifeless in a type of poetry such as his, which claimed\nthe realism of life--neither satisfied his sense of the ethical\nseriousness of art, nor yet the vigour of life and an intelligence,\nwhich aspired to something more than blind wailing and self-abasement,\nwas, in short, both self-respecting and actively religious. The need\nof some mythology, however, and one connected with Germany impressed\nhim strongly as a poet, in order that he might have definite names and\ncharacters ready to hand as a stable basis of his imaginative creation.\nIt is impossible to associate such patriotic sentiments with the gods\nof Greece. Consequently Klopstock attempted, we may justly say from\ngenuine national pride, to give a renewed life to the old mythology\nof Wodan, Hertha and the rest. He was unfortunately as little able\nto carry his aim to the point of objective effect and sufficiency by\nthis adoption of names of gods, which are no longer really Germanic,\nhowever much they may have been so, as, let us say, the imperial museum\nin Regensburg is qualified to stand for the ideal of our present\npolitical life. However strongly, then, he may have felt the need to\nbe able to realize in poetry and as fact in a national form a general\nfolk-mythology, the truth of Nature and conscious life, these twilight\ngods remain entirely devoid of essential truth; we may add there is a\nkind of childish self-flattery in the belief that either reasonable\npeople or the national faith could take such an attempt seriously.\nApart from this, as objects of interest to the imagination, the\nfigures of Greek mythology are elaborated in ways with incomparably\nmore variety, infinitely stronger appeal to our aesthetic taste, our\nsense of delight and freedom. In lyric poetry, however, it is the\nself-revelation of the poet that is all-important. We ought at least\nto honour in our patriotic poet this his solicitude and effort, an\neffort which was sufficiently effective to bear subsequent fruit, and,\neven in the field of poetry, to stimulate by its suggestion composition\non similar subjects. We have, however, to conclude our review, no word\nto say against the purity, excellence, and admirable influence of this\npatriotic sentiment of Klopstock as expressed in his enthusiasm for the\nhonour and value of our German speech, and certain characters of our\nformer history, that of Herrmann, for example, and above all particular\nGerman Kaisers, who in some instances have even been self-celebrated in\nsong. Vital in him throughout is his justifiable pride in the German\nmuse, and his faith in her increasing courage to contend on equal\nterms and in high-spirited self-reliance with that of the Greek, the\nRoman, and the Englishman. And no less a genuine reflection of his\npatriotism is the nature of his survey of the royal princes of Germany,\nthe expectations which their character have or had it in their power\nto arouse on all that generally concerns honour, art, and science,\nquestions of public import and spiritual objects of essential value. On\nthe one hand we find him expressing his contempt of our princes, who,\nas he tells us, remain on their comfortable chairs, surrounded with the\ntobacco smoke of courtiers, buried in present obscurity and yet deeper\nto be buried in the future. Or he may express his feelings in the\nlament that even Frederick II\n\n\n    Nicht sah, dass Deutschland's Dichtkunst sich schnell erhob,\n    Aus fester Wurzel daurendem Stamm, und weit,\n    Der \u00c6ste Schalten wurf![22]\n\n\nWith pain of a like quality those vain hopes, too, return back to him,\nin which he saw in Kaiser Joseph the uprise of a new world of spiritual\neffort and poetry. And, finally, it is an honour to the heart of the\nold veteran at least as great that he sympathizes with the present fact\nthat a people had shattered its fetters of every kind, had trodden\nunder foot the injustice of a thousand years, and for the first time\nsought to found its political life on reason and right.\n\nHe greets this new\n\n\n          Labende, selbst nicht getr\u00e4umte Sonne.\n    Geseegnet sei mir du, das mein Haupt bedeckt,\n    Mein graues Haar, die Kraft, die nach sechzigen\n        Fortdauert; denn sie war's, so weithin\n        Brachte sie mich, dass diess Erlebte![23]\n\n\nNay, he will even express his gratitude to France:[24]\n\n\n    Verzeiht, O Franken (Namen der Bruder ist\n    Der edle Name) dass ich den Deutschen einst\n    Zurufte, das zu fliehen, warum ich\n      Ihnen jetzt flehe, euch nachzuahmen.\n\n\nAnd, naturally, the acerbation of the poet was all the more bitter,\nwhen this fair dawn of freedom changed to a day that was steeped in\nhorror and blood, one that murdered liberty. Klopstock, however, was\nunable to give poetical expression to such painful feelings. What he\ndid find the opportunity to say was all the more prosaic, without\ndefinite structure and logical consequence on account of the fact that\nhe had no higher purpose,[25] veiled in such facts, to set off against\nhis disappointed hope. His genius was in short entirely blind to any\nmore profound demand of reason in the facts of such a revolution.\n\nThe greatness of Klopstock consists then essentially in his national\nsympathies, his keen sense of freedom, friendship, love, and his\nstaunch Protestantism. We may justly honour him for his noble character\nand his noble art, for his effort and achievement. And if, too, in many\ndirections he shares the limitations of his own times, and in truth is\nresponsible for many odes that are solely of interest to the critic,\nthe grammarian, the metrist, odes deficient in all poetic vitality, we\nmay affirm, nevertheless, that with the single exception of Schiller,\nwe shall find in our subsequent literature no more noble figure, no\ndisposition of such serious and masculine independence.\n\nWe have, indeed, to compare with him Schiller and Goethe, who are not\nmerely the poetic exponents of their own times in a spirit resembling\nhis own, but in their experience as poets are of course far more\ncomprehensive. And, above all, in the songs of Goethe we Germans\nunquestionably possess the most consummate, profound, and influential\npoetic compositions of modern times. If they are wholly an expression\nof the poet they are equally the treasure of his people; and, in fact,\nas the genuine growth of his native soil, are completely in accord with\nthe fundamental tones of our national life and genius.\n\n\n[Footnote 1: _Subjectivit\u00e4t._ Individual self-conscious life.]\n\n[Footnote 2: _Das Subject_, here the individual consciousness which\ncomposes.]\n\n[Footnote 3: _Ergusses,_ the pouring out into a mould.]\n\n[Footnote 4: Vol. IV, pp. 169-172.]\n\n[Footnote 5: This appears to be the meaning of the words _die letzte\nMusic eines nationalen Inneren._]\n\n[Footnote 6: I presume by _Nachh\u00fclfe_ Hegel practically means imitation\nrather than translation. It may be very much doubted whether any\ncomposition, involving a change of language, can give anything but the\nfaintest knowledge of the original folk-song. Goethe's genius could\nproduce poetry out of strange materials, but he could not reproduce the\nmusic of another medium.]\n\n[Footnote 7: _Subjektiver Art_.]\n\n[Footnote 8: Or as the text runs, \"and as everybody's poet.\"]\n\n[Footnote 9: Pausanias, I, c. 8.]\n\n[Footnote 10: \u00c6schines, ep. 4.]\n\n[Footnote 11: _Zusammengezogenheit._ The idea of concentration is also\npresent.]\n\n[Footnote 12: I have taken the revised translation.]\n\n[Footnote 13: _\u00c4ussersichseyn._ The being beside or aloof from oneself,\nnot so much in the sense of infatuation as ecstasy.]\n\n[Footnote 14: I presume Hegel means this by the words _nur zum\nTr\u00e4llern_; it might mean \"merely to be hummed.\"]\n\n[Footnote 15: _Still in sich_.]\n\n[Footnote 16: High above the life of earth beneath it shall wave in the\nblue band of heaven, neighbour to the thunder, on the boundary of the\nstarry world. It shall be a voice from above, ay, as the bright choir\nof the stars, who praise their Creator in their motion and conduct the\ngarlanded year. Its voice of bronze is dedicate to eternal and earnest\nmatters alone, and, hour by hour, as it swiftly swings backwards and\nforwards, it is one with Time in its flight.]\n\n[Footnote 17: _Einlebung._ This vital fusion with the object.]\n\n[Footnote 18: _In seiner in sich Zur\u00fcckgenommenen Innerlichkeit_.]\n\n[Footnote 19: _In seinem Aufgehohenseyn._]\n\n[Footnote 20: That is, of the isle of Melos, Sappho's birthplace.]\n\n[Footnote 21: Readers of the Xenien of Goethe and Schiller will recall\nthe unsparing attacks which were directed against this formalist and\npedant.]\n\n[Footnote 22: Even Frederick II \"did not see that the art of German\npoesy was raising itself swift on high from the enduring stock of a\nstable root, and spread the shade of its branches far abroad.\"]\n\n[Footnote 23: He greets this new \"reawakened sun, no mere dream at\nleast of mine. Verily I bless thee, who sweepest over my head, my grey\nhairs, the strength of me that still endures after its sixty years. Ay,\nfor was it not this strength which has carried me so far to see this\nvery vision!\"]\n\n[Footnote 24: \"Forgive me, brother of France, and brotherhood is the\nnoblest tie after all, that I once cried to my Germans to flee from\nthat, which I now implore them to follow--imitation of you.\" The\nreference is of course to the French Revolution.]\n\n[Footnote 25: Hegel may mean that Klopstock was unable to see the real\nbenefits which would result from the French Revolution despite its\napparent failure. The sentence which follows would, however, suggest an\nalternative interpretation that the poet was unable to see the higher\ndemand which the facts of Revolution made upon the French people,\nand which from the first, that is, even when Klopstock admired them,\nthey did not either frankly face or successfully respond to. I think,\nindeed, this latter is most probable.]\n\n\n\n\nC. DRAMATIC POETRY\n\n\nThe reason that dramatic poetry must be regarded as the highest phase\nof the art of poetry, and, indeed, of every kind of art, is due to\nthe fact that it is elaborated, both in form and substance, in a\nwhole--that is the most complete. For in contrast to every other sort\nof sensuous _materia_, whether it be stone, wood, colour, or tone, that\nof human speech is the only medium fully adequate to the presentation\nof spiritual life; and further, among the particular types of the art\nof articulate speech, dramatic poetry is the one, in which we find the\nobjective character of the Epos essentially united to the subjective\nprinciple of the Lyric. In other words it presents directly before\nour vision an essentially independent action as a definite fact,\nwhich does not merely originate from the personal life of character\nunder the process of self-realization, but receives its determinate\nform as the result of the substantive interaction in concrete life of\nideal intention, many individuals and collisions. This mediated form\nof epic art by means of the intimate personal life of an individual\nviewed in the very presence of his activity does not, however,\npermit the drama to describe the external aspects of local condition\nand environment, nor yet the action and event itself in the way that\nthey are so described in the epic. Consequently, in order that the\nentire art-product may receive the full animation of life, we require\nits complete scenic representation. And, finally, the action itself,\nregarded in the full complexus of its ideal and external reality, is\nadapted to two distinct types of composition of the most opposite\ncharacter, the predominant principles of which, regarded severally\nas the tragic and comic type, create in their turn also a further\nfundamental and specific point of view in our attitude to the dramatic\nart.\n\nStarting then from the vantage of these general observations we may\nindicate the course of our inquiry as follows:\n\n_Firsts_ we propose to consider the dramatic composition, both in its\ngeneral and more detailed features, in the contrast it presents to epic\nand lyrical poetry.\n\n_Secondly_, our attention will be directed to its scenic presentation\nand the conditions of this necessity.\n\n_Thirdly_, we shall pass under review the different types of dramatic\npoetry as we find them realized in the concrete facts of past history.\n\n\n\n\nI. THE DRAMA AS A POETICAL ART-PRODUCT\n\n\nWhat we have, in the first instance, to define more emphatically is the\npoetic aspect of the dramatic composition as such, that is to say in\nits independence of the fact that the same is necessarily presented to\nour direct vision on the stage. Our investigation of this will do well\nto concentrate itself on the following points:\n\n_Firsts_ there is the general principle of dramatic poetry.\n\n_Secondly_, we have the several specific types of dramatic composition.\n\n_Thirdly_, there is the relation which obtains between these and the\npublic audience.\n\n\n(_a_) _The Principle of Dramatic Poetry_\n\nThe demand of the drama, in the widest sense, is the presentation of\nhuman actions and relations in their actually visible form to the\nimaginative consciousness, that is to say, in the uttered speech of\nliving persons, who in this way give expression to their action.\nDramatic action, however, is not confined to the simple and undisturbed\nexecution of a definite purpose, but depends throughout on conditions\nof collision, human passion and characters, and leads therefore to\nactions and reactions, which in their turn call for some further\nresolution of conflict and disruption. What we have consequently\nbefore us are definite ends individualized in living personalities and\nsituations pregnant with conflict; we see these as they are asserted\nand maintained, as they work in co-operation or opposition--all in a\nmomentary and kaleidoscopic interchange of expression--and along with\nthis, too, the final result presupposed and issuing from the entirety\nof this interthreading and conflicting skein of human life, movement,\nand accomplishment, which has none the less to work out its tranquil\nresolution. The mode of poetical composition adapted to this novel type\nof content can be, as already suggested, no other than a mediating\nunion of the principles of epic and lyrical art respectively.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The _first_ point of importance we have to settle to our\nsatisfaction is that of the _time_ at which dramatic poetry is able\nto assert itself in all its predominance. Drama is the product of an\nalready essentially cultured condition of national life. It already\npresupposes as essentially a feature of past history not only the\nprimitive poetic period of the genuine Epos, but also the independent\npersonal excogitation of lyrical rapture. The bare fact that, while\ncombining these two points of view, it is satisfied with neither\nsphere in its separation proves that this is so. And in order that\nwe may have this poetic combination the free self-consciousness of\nhuman aims, developments and destinies must be already fully alert\nand awake, must have attained, in short, a degree of culture such as\nis only possible in the intermediate and later epochs of a nation's\ndevelopment. For this reason, too, the greatest exploits and events\nof a nation's primitive history are rather of an epic than a dramatic\ntype. Such are features of the national existence for the most part\nrelated to communities outside it, such as the Trojan war, or the wave\nof popular migration, as illustrated in the Crusades, or the national\nresistance to a common enemy, as was the case in the war of Greece\nagainst Persia. It is only at a later stage that we meet with the more\nstable independence of single heroes, who create for themselves and out\nof themselves in their isolation definite ends, and carry through the\nundertakings they imply.\n\n(_\u03b2_) We may add the following remarks upon the nature of this\n_mediation_ between the opposed principles of _epic_ and _lyric poetry._\n\nThe Epos already makes an action visible to our imaginative sense. It\nis, however, here presented as the substantive entirety of a national\nspirit under the form of definite events and exploits of external life,\nin which personal volition, the individual aim and the externality of\nvital conditions, together with the obstructions which such external\nfacts present, are retained in an equal balance. In the Lyric, on the\ncontrary, it is the individual person, which is emphasized in the\nindependence of his subjective life and as such expressed.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In combining these two points of view drama has in the _first_\nplace, following in this respect the Epos, to bring before our vision\nan event, action, or practical affair. But above all in everything that\nis thus presented the factor of bare externality must be obliterated,\nand in, its place the self-conscious and active personality is posited\nas the paramount ground and vital force. The drama, in short, does\nnot take exclusive refuge in-the lyric presence of soul-life, as such\nstands in contrast to an external world, but propounds such a life\nin and through _its_ external realization. And in virtue of this\nthe event does not appear to proceed from external conditions, but\nrather from personal volition and character; it receives in fact its\ndramatic significance exclusively in its relation to subjective aims\nand passions. At the same time the individual is not left exclusively\nrooted in his self-exclusive independence; he comes to his own through\nthe peculiar nature of the conditions in which he is placed, and\nsubject to which his character and purpose become the content of his\nvolitional faculty, quite as much so in fact as in virtue of the\nnature of the particular purpose itself in its opposition to and\nconflict with other ends. Consequently the dramatic action in question\nmust submit to a process of development and collision with other\nforces, which themselves, on their own account, and even in a contrary\ndirection to that willed and intended by the active personality, effect\nthe ultimate course of the events through which the personal factor,\nin its essential, characteristics of human purpose, personality, and\nspiritual conflict, is asserted. This substantive or objective aspect,\nwhich is enforced along with the individual character, in other\nrespects acting independently from its own ideal resources, is no other\nthan the very point of view which we find effective and vital in the\nprinciple of dramatic poetry, when it coincides with that of the epic\ncomposition.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) However much, therefore, we may have as a centre of attraction\nthe intimate soul-life of particular men and women, nevertheless\ndramatic composition cannot rest content with the purely lyrical\nconditions of the emotional life; nor can the poet of such merely limit\nhis sympathy to the dusty record of exploits that are already complete,\nor, speaking generally, merely describe the experience of enjoyment\nor other states of emotional or contemplative life. The drama, on the\ncontrary, has to exhibit situations and the spiritual atmosphere that\nbelongs to them as definitely motived by the individual character,\nwhich is charged with specific aims, and which makes these an effective\npart of the practical content of its volitional self-identity. The\ndefinition of soul-life, therefore, in the drama passes into the\nsphere of impulse, the realization of personality by means of active\nvolition, in a word, effective action; it passes out of the sphere\nof pure ideality, it makes itself an object of the outer world, and\ninclines itself to the concrete facts of the epic world. The external\nphenomenon, however, instead of attaining existence in the bare fact of\nan event, is here, in the view of the acting character himself, charged\nwith the opinions and aims he forms on his own account. Action is here\nthe executed will, which as such is at the same time _recognized_,\nrecognized, that is, not merely in its origin and point of departure\nfrom the soul-life, but also in respect to its ultimate purpose. In\nother words, all that issues from the action, issues, so far as the\npersonality in question is concerned, from himself, and reacts thereby\non his personal character and its circumstances. This constant\nrelation of the entire complexus of external condition to the soul-life\nitself of the self-realized and self-realizing individuality, who is\nat once the basis and assimilating force of the entire process, marks\nthe point where dramatic poetry falls in line with the truly lyrical\nprinciple.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) It is only when thus regarded that human action asserts itself\nas _action_ in the supreme sense, that is, as actual execution of\nideal intentions and aims with the realization of which the individual\nagent associates himself as with himself, discovers himself and his\nsatisfaction therein, and thereupon further takes his stand with his\nentire being in all that proceeds from it as a constituent of the\nobjective world. A character which is dramatic plucks for himself the\nfruit of his own deeds.\n\nInasmuch, however, as the interest, in a dramatic sense, restricts\nitself to the personal aim, whose hero the active personality is, and\nit is only necessary in the artistic work to borrow from the external\nworld so much as is bound in an essential relation to this purpose,\nwhich originates in self-conscious life, for this reason the drama is\n_primarily_ of a more abstract nature than the epic poem. For on the\none hand the action, in so far as it reposes in the self-determination\nof character, and is deducible from this vital source and centre, does\nnot presuppose the epic background of an entire world through all the\nvaried aspects and ramifications of its positive realization, but is\nconcentrated in the simpler definition of circumstance subject to which\nthe individual man is absorbed in his immediate purpose and carries\nthe same to accomplishment. And from a further point of view we have\nnot here the type of personality which asserts its development to our\nvision in the _entire complexity_ of national qualities as such are\ndisplayed by the epic, but rather character viewed in _direct_ relation\nto its action, character which possesses a _definite_ end directed to\nspirit life in its universality. This end or purpose, this eventual\nfact on which it depends, is placed in a more exalted position than\nis possible to the extension of the purely individual life, which\nappears inclusively as living organ and animating vehicle of the same.\nA more widely extended unveiling of character under the most varied\naspects which are present either in no connection at all or only in\na more remote one to its action, as we find it concentrated on _one_\nsingle point of interest would be a superfluity; consequently in this\nrespect, too, that is, in its relation to the active personality,\ndramatic poetry ought to be more simply concentrated than epic poetry.\nThe same generalization is applicable to the number and variety of\nthe characters represented. For in virtue of the fact, as previously\ninsisted, that the movement of the drama is not thrown upon the\nbackground of a national existence essentially complete in its\nenvisagement of every conceivable variety of class, age, sex, activity,\nand so forth, but on the contrary, rivets our attention throughout\non _one_ fundamental purpose and its achievement, a realization of\nobjective fact so extended and intricate as this would not merely be\nineffective, but would actually impair the result proposed. At the\nsame time, however, and _secondly_, the end and content of an action\nis only dramatic by reason of the fact that on account of its defined\ncharacter, in the distinctive qualities of which the particular\npersonality itself can alone lay hold of it under equally definite\nconditions, it calls into being in other individuals other objects\nand passions opposed to it, This pathetic excitant[1] may, no doubt,\nin each separate active agent, assume the form of spiritual, ethical,\nand divine forces, such as duty, love to fatherland, parents, wife,\nrelations, and the like. If, however, this essential content of human\nfeeling and activity is to assert itself as dramatic it must in its\nspecialization _confront_ us as distinct ends, so that in every case\nthe action will inevitably meet with obstruction in its relation\nto other active individuals, and fall into subjection to changing\nconditions and contradictions, which alternately prejudice the success\nof their own particular fulfilment. The genuine content, the essential\noperative energy throughout may therefore very well be the eternal\nforces, the essentially explicit ethical State, the gods of vital\nreality, in a word the divine and the true, but it is not these in the\nmight of their tranquillity, in that condition, so to speak, wherein\nthe unmoved gods abide, saved from all action, as some serene figures\nof sculpture self-absorbed in a state of blessedness. What we have here\nis the divine in its community, as content, that is, and object of\nhuman personality, as concrete existence in its realization,[2] invited\nto act and charged with movement.\n\nIf, however, as above described, the godlike presence constitutes\nthe most vital objective truth in the external precipitate[3] of\nhuman action, then, _thirdly_, the deciding factor in the course and\noriginal departure of such an evolution and conflict cannot reside with\nparticular individuals, which are placed in a relation of opposition\nto one another; it must be referred to the divine presence itself,\nregarded as essential totality: and for this reason, the drama, it\nmatters not in what form it may be shaped, will have to propound to\nus the vital energy of a principle of Necessity which is essentially\nself-supporting, and capable of resolving every conflict and\ncontradiction.\n\n(_\u03b3_) Consequently, we have before everything else the demand made\non the dramatic _poet_ in his creative capacity, that to the fullest\nextent his intelligence is awake to that ideal and universal substance\nwhich is at the root of human ends, conflicts, and destinies. He must\nfully acquaint himself with all the contradictions and developments\nwhich the particular action will, under the proposed conditions,\nnecessarily involve and display. He must not merely be aware of them\nin so far as they originate in personal passion and the specific\ncharacterization of particular individuals, or as he finds such\nrelated to the actual content of human designs and resolves; but also\nin so far as they are simply referable to the external relations\nand circumstances of concrete life. And, along with this, it should\nbe within his powers to recognize what the real nature of these\nparamount forces are, which apportion to man the just guerdon of his\nachievements. The rightful claim, no less than the wrongful misuse\nof the passions, which storm through the human heart, and excite to\naction, must lie disclosed to him with equal clarity, in order that\nprecisely in those cases where the ordinary vision can only discover\nthe ascendancy of obscurity, chance, and confusion, he, at least, will\nfind revealed the actual selfaccomplishment of what is the essence of\nreason and truth itself. It follows, therefore, that the dramatic poet\nought as little to confine his efforts to the indefinite exploration\nof the depths of emotional life, as the one-sided retention of any\nsingle exclusive mood of soul-life, or any limited partiality in\nthe type of his sense-perception and spiritual outlook generally.\nHe ought, rather, to exclude nothing from his vision that may be\nembraced by the widest expansion of Spirit conceivable. And this is\nso because the spiritual powers which are exclusively distinct in the\nmythological Epos, and which, by virtue of the many-sided aspects of\n_actual individualization_[4]tend to lose the _clear definition_ of\ntheir significance, assert themselves in dramatic poetry in consonance\nwith their simple substantive content as pathos altogether, and as\napart from individual characters. The drama is, in fact, the resolution\nof the one-sided aspect of these powers, which discover their\nself-stability in the dramatic character. And this is so whether, as\nin tragedy, they are opposed to such in hostility, or, as in comedy,\nthey are displayed within these characters themselves, without further\nmediation, in a condition of resolution.\n\n(_b_) _Dramatic Composition_\n\nIn discussing the drama as a concrete work of art, I propose to\nemphasize, briefly, the following fundamental points:\n\n_First_ there is the unity of the same viewed in contrast to that of\nthe Epos and the lyric poem.\n\n_Secondly_, we have to consider the articulation of its parts, of its\nseparate parts and their development.\n\n_Thirdly_, there is the external aspect of diction, dialogue, and\nverse-measure.\n\n(_\u03b1_) What we have in the first instance to observe and, from the\nbroadest point of view, to establish with regard to the unity of the\ndrama, is connected with a remark made in a previous passage to the\neffect that dramatic poetry, in contradistinction to the Epos, must\nbe more strenuously self-concentrated. For, although the Epic makes\na specific event its centre of unity, this is none the less expanded\nover a wide and manifold field of the national existence, and may\nbreak up into very various episodes and the independent presentation\nwhich belongs to each as parts of the entire panorama. An analogous\nappearance of merely general connection, on grounds which are converse\nto the above, is permissible to certain types of lyrical poetry.\nInasmuch, however, as in dramatic poetry, from one point of view,\nthat epic foundation, as we have seen, falls away--and as, otherwise\nregarded, the individual characters do not find their expression\nunder the insulation proper to lyric expression, but rather assert\nin such a way their mutual relations to one another, by means of the\nopposed features of their characterization and aims, that it is just\nthis personal relation which constitutes the ground of their dramatic\nrealization--it follows, as by a law of necessity, that the synthetic\nunity of the entire composition is of a more stringent character. Now\nthis more restricted homogeneity is quite as much objective as it is\nideal in its nature. It is objective relatively to the features of the\npractical content of the objects, which the different characters carry\nout in a condition of conflict. It is ideal or subjective in virtue of\nthe fact that this essentially substantive content appears in dramatic\nwork as the passion of particular characters, so that the ill-success\nor achievement, fortune or misfortune, victory or defeat, essentially\naffect the individuals, whom such concern, in their actual intention.[5]\n\nThe more obvious laws of dramatic composition may be summarized in the\ntime-honoured prescription of the so-called unities of place, time, and\naction.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The inalterability of one exclusive _locale_ of the action\nproposed belongs to the type of those rigid rules, which the French\nin particular have deduced from classic tragedy and the critique of\nAristotle thereupon. As a matter of fact, Aristotle merely says[6]\nthat the duration of the tragic action should not exceed at the most\nthe length of a day. He does not mention the unity of place at all;\nmoreover, the ancient tragedians have not followed such a principle\nin the strict sense adopted by the French. As examples of such a\ndeviation, we have a change of scene both in the Eumenides of \u00c6schylus\nand the Ajax of Sophocles. To a still less extent can our more modern\ndramatic writing, in its effort to portray a more extensive field of\ncollision, _dramatis personae_ of whatever kind and incidental event,\nand, in a word, an action the ideal explication of which requires,\ntoo, an external environment of greater breadth, subject itself to\nthe yoke of a rigid identity of scene. Modern poetry, in so far, that\nis, as its creations are in harmony with the romantic type, which as\na rule displays more variety and caprice in its attitude to external\ncondition, has consequently freed itself from any such demand. If,\nhowever, the action is in truth concentrated in a few great motives, so\nthat it can avoid complexity of external exposition, there will be no\nnecessity for considerable alternation of scene. Indeed, the reverse\nwill be a real advantage. In other words, however false such a rule\nmay be in its purely conventional application, it contains at least\nthe just conception that the constant transition of scene, without\nany particular reason why we should have one more than another, is\nobviously quite inadmissible. The dramatic concentration of the action\nought necessarily to assert itself also in this external aspect, and\nthus present a contrast to the Epos, which is permitted in the most\nvaried way to adapt itself to the fresh expatiation in the form of\nthe spatial condition and its changes. Moreover, from a further point\nof view, the drama is not, as the Epos, composed exclusively for the\nimaginative sense, but for the direct vision of our senses. In the\nsphere of the pure imagination we can readily pass from one scene to\nanother. In a theatrical representation, however, we must not put\ntoo great a strain on the imaginative faculty beyond the point which\ncontradicts the ordinary vision of life. Shakespeare, for example,\nin whose tragedies and comedies there is a very frequent change of\nscene, had posts put up with notices attached to them indicating\nthe particular scene on view. A device of this kind is a poor sort\nof affair, and can only impair the dramatic effect. For this reason\nthe unity of place is at least commendable to the extent that its\nintelligibility and convenience are _prim\u00e2 facie_ assured, in so far,\nthat is, that all confusion is thus avoided. But after all, no doubt,\nmuch may still be trusted to the imagination, which would conflict with\nour ordinary perception and notion of probability. The most convenient\ncourse in this, as in other matters, is a happy mean; in other words,\nwhile not wholly excluding the claim of purely natural fact and\nperception, we may still permit ourselves considerable license in our\nattitude to both.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The unity of _time_ is a precisely similar case. In the pure\nrealm of imaginative idea we may no doubt, with no difficulty, combine\nvast periods of time; in the direct vision of perception we cannot\nso readily pass over a few years. If the action is, therefore, of a\nsimple character, viewed in its entire content and conflict, we shall\ndo best to concentrate the time of such a conflict, from its origin\nto its resolution, in a restricted period. If, on the contrary, it\ndemands character richly diversified, whose development necessitates\nmany situations which, in the matter of time, lie widely apart from\none another, then the formal unity of a purely relative and entirely\nconventional duration of time will be essentially impossible. To\nattempt to remove such a representation from the domain of dramatic\npoetry, on the _prim\u00e2 facie_ ground that it is inconsistent with the\nstrict rule of time-unity would simply amount to making the prose of\nordinary facts the final court of appeal, as against the truth of\npoetic creation. Least of all need we waste time in discussing the\npurely empirical probability that as audience we could, in the course\nof a few hours, witness also, directly through our sense, merely the\npassage of a short space of time. For it is precisely in the case\nwhere the poet is most at pains to illustrate this conclusion that,\nfrom other points of view, he well-nigh invariably perpetrates the most\nglaring improbabilities.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) In contrast to the above examples of unity, that of _action_ is\nthe one truly inviolable rule. The true nature, however, of this unity\nmay be a matter of considerable dispute. I will therefore develop my\nown views of its significance at greater length.\n\nEvery action must without exception have a _distinct_ object which it\nseeks to achieve. It is through his action that man enters actively\ninto the concrete actual world, in which also the most universal\nsubject-matter is in its turn accepted in the poetic work and\ndefined under more specific manifestation. From this point of view,\ntherefore, the unity will have to be sought for in the realization of\nan end itself essentially definite, and carried under the particular\nconditions and relations of concrete life to its consummation. The\ncircumstances adapted to dramatic action are, however, as we have\nseen, of a kind that the individual end meets with obstructions at\nthe hands of other personal agents, and this for the reason that\na contradictory end stands in its path, which in its turn equally\nstrives after fulfilment, so that it is invariably attached to the\nreciprocal relation of conflicts and their devolution. Dramatic action\nin consequence rests essentially upon an action that is involved with\n_resistance_;[7] and the genuine unity can only find its _rationale_\nin the entire movement which consists in the assertion of this\ncollision relatively to the definition of the particular circumstances,\ncharacters, and ends proposed, not merely under a mode consonant\nto such ends and characters, but in such a way as to resolve the\nopposition implied. Such a resolution has, precisely as the action\nitself has, an external and an inside point of view. In other words, on\nthe one side, the conflict of the opposed _ends_ is finally composed;\nand on the other the particular _characters_, to a greater or less\nextent, have committed their entire volitional energy and being to\nthe undertaking they strive to accomplish. Consequently the success\nor misadventure of the same, to complete or partial execution, the\ninevitable disaster or the secure union effected with intentions that\nare apparently opposed to their extent, also determine the destiny\nof the character in question, that it is inextricably involved with\nthat which it was impelled to commit to such activity. A true end is\ntherefore only then consummated, where the object and interest of the\naction, around which all revolves, are identified with the individuals\nconcerned, and absolutely united to them. And whether the difference\nand opposition of the dramatic character assumes a simple form or\nbranches out in various accessory episodes and individuals, the unity\nin either case may be of a more severe or less stringent nature.\nComedy, for instance, in the many-sided features of its worked-out\nintrigue does not require such deliberate self-concentration as tragedy\ndoes, which is as a rule motived on grandiose and simple lines.\nRomantic tragedy, however, is also in this respect more varied and\nless consistent in its unity than is classic tragedy. And even where\nthere is more licence the relation of the episodes and supplementary\ncharacters must be throughout recognizable; and the entirety of the\npiece should also naturally and without strain fit in with and help to\ncomplete the conclusion. So, for example, in \"Romeo and Juliet,\" the\ndiscord between the families, which lies outside the lovers and their\nobject and destiny, is no doubt the base on which the action is shaped,\nthough not the actual matter on which all actually depends. Shakespeare\nconsequently devotes the necessary, if also wholly subordinate\nattention to the final issue of this conflict in his conclusion. In\nthe same way in \"Hamlet\" the fortunes of Denmark remain a subsidiary\ninterest, though with the entrance of Fortinbras they are apparently\nconsidered, and are settled at last satisfactorily.\n\nNo doubt in the particular end, which resolves the colliding factors,\nthe possibility of fresh interests and conflicts may be presented; it\nis, however, the _one_ collision with which the action is concerned,\nwhich has to discover its final adjustment in the essentially\nindependent composition. Of this type are the three tragedies of\nSophocles borrowed from the Theban cycle of myths. The first contains\nthe discovery by \u0152dipus of the murderer of Laius; the second his\npeaceful death in the home of the Eumenides; the third the fate of\nAntigone. And, despite of this connection, every one of the three is\nequally an intrinsically complete whole independent of the other two.\n\n(_\u03b2_) With regard to our _second_ point, namely, that of the mode of\ndenouement in a dramatic composition, we have three main features of\ndistinction to consider between it and epic composition or the song,\nnamely, the size of its extension, the nature of its progression and\nits division into scenes and acts.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) We have already seen that the embrace of a drama--is not\nso extensive as the demand of the epos implies. I propose,\ntherefore--over and above the two features already discussed of\nthat world-condition, which is necessarily implied in the complete\npicture of the epic, and the more simple collision which is an equally\nessential constituent of the content of drama--merely to advert to\nthe further ground, that in the drama the greater part of everything\nthat the muse of the epic poet has to describe and linger over as\nservant of our imaginative vision, is omitted altogether from the\nscenic reproduction. And, further, in the case of drama it is not\nactual exploit, but the exposition of personal passions which is\nhere the main thing. This personal life, however, in contrast to the\nexpanse of the phenomenal world, is concentrated in simple emotions,\nsentences, decisions, and the like; and here, too, as distinct from\nthe collateral display of epic narration and its historical part, it\ngives effect to the principle of lyric absorption and the origination\nand expression in present time of passion and idea. Dramatic poetry is,\nhowever, not satisfied with merely _one_ situation;[8] it presents the\nideal world of emotional life or intelligence in active self-assertion\nas a totality of circumstances and ends of very various character,\nwhich expresses taken together, all that, if viewed relatively to\nits activity, passes in such an inward world. In comparison with the\nlyrical poem, the drama reaches out to and is completed in a far more\nextensive embrace of subject-matter. To summarize this comparative\nrelation we may say, perhaps, that dramatic poetry stands as a\nmean between the wide embrace of the Epopaea and the concentrated\ncompression of the Lyric.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Yet more important than this aspect of external extension is\nthe nature of the _dramatic progression_ as opposed to the mode of the\nepic's devolution The form of the epic objectivity demands throughout,\nas we have seen, a lingering style of description, which may along\nwith this become more intense and pointed in its display of active\nobstruction. It is possible that we may at first blush incline to the\nview that, inasmuch as other ends and characters resist the main end\nand principal character in dramatic exposition, dramatic poetry is\nentitled to accept this sort of pause and obstacle as an essential\nfeature of its principle. As a matter of fact just the reverse is\nthe case. The true dramatic progression is a _continuous_ movement\n_onwards_ to the final catastrophe. This is clear from the simple fact\nthat it is in _collision_ that we find the emphatic turning point. In\nconsequence of this we have the twofold view of, in the first place, a\ngeneral strain towards the outbreak of this conflict, and, secondly,\nthe necessity implied in this discord and contradiction of views, ends,\nand activities, that they should find some resolution to which they are\ndriven forwards. By this we by no means assert that mere celerity of\nforward movement is simply in itself beautiful in the dramatic sense.\nOn the contrary, the dramatic poet should have himself room to supply\nevery situation on its own account with all the motives which it truly\nimplies. Episodical scenes, however, which only impede the action are\ncontrary to the nature of the drama.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) As a final point, we may divide the course of the dramatic work\nmost naturally by simply following the stages implied in the notion\nof dramatic movement itself. In this connection Aristotle[9] long ago\nremarks that a whole is that which possesses a beginning, a middle,\nand a conclusion. He further defines a beginning 'as that which, of\nitself necessary, does not issue from something else, and out of\nwhich something other than itself issues and proceeds. The end is the\nreverse of this, namely, that which originates from something else,\neither of necessity, or mainly so at least, but which does not itself\nlead to further consequence. The middle is that which both issues from\nsomething else, and also is that from which something else proceeds.\n\nNow no doubt in the reality of our experience every action includes\nmany presuppositions which make it a difficult matter to decide the\nexact point where we may find the true commencement. In so far,\nhowever, as dramatic action rests essentially on a definite state of\ncollision, the right point of departure will lie in the situation,\nout of which the future devolution of that conflict, despite the fact\nthat it has not as yet broken out, will none the less in its further\ncourse issue. The end, on the contrary, will then be attained, when\nthe resolution of the discord and its development is secured in every\npossible respect. In the midway condition between origination and end\nwe have the conflict of ends, and the struggle of individual persons\nin collision. These different section's are in dramatic composition,\nso to speak, the phases or moments of the action of what are also\nactions, and the definition of this is admirably indicated by the\n_acts_ of the piece. They are now of course more or less equivalent\nto pauses of time, and a prince on one occasion, who was either in a\nhurry, or wished the action to proceed without interruption, blamed\nhis chamberlain openly that such a pause occurred. With regard to\ntheir _number three_ such acts for every kind of drama is the number\nthat will adapt itself most readily to intelligible theory. Of\nthese the _first_ discloses the appearance of the collision, which\nis thereupon emphasized in the _second_ with all the animation of\nconflicting interests as the positive difference of such discord and\nits progression, until, _finally_, driven as it were upon the very\napex of its contradiction, it is necessarily resolved. We may cite--as\nsome kind of illustration of this division which the nature of such an\naction suggests--from ancient drama, in which no doubt the dramatic\narticulation is as a rule less distinct, the trilogies of \u00c6schylus,\nin which each single play combines with the others to form a single\nand completely exclusive whole.[10] In modern poetry the Spaniards\nmainly follow such a division into three acts. The English, French,\nand Germans, on the contrary, for the most part divide the entire\nplay into _five_ acts, in which the initial exposition is assigned to\nthe first, the three next are occupied with the various aggressions\nand reactionary effects, the complex intentions and conflicts of the\nopposed parties; and it is not until the fifth that we reach the entire\nresolution of such contending forces.\n\n(_\u03b3_) The third and final important aspect we have to investigate in\nour present connection is the nature of the _external means_, in so far\nas the employment of the same by dramatic art can be held distinct from\nand independent of the actual scenic representation that is otherwise\nessential to its complete display. An account of the specific nature\nof diction which is frequently dramatic generally, secondly, of the\ndistinguishing features of the monologue, dialogue, and the like, and,\nlastly, of verse measure, will be all that is necessary here. As we\nhave more than once insisted in the drama the fact of the action is\nnot the external aspect to which we refer, but the exposition of the\nideal spirit of the action, not merely in respect to the _dramatis\npersonae_ and their passion, pathos, resolve, interaction, and\nmediation, but also relatively to the universal essence of the action\nin its conflict and destiny. It is this ideally pregnant spirit,\nin so far as poetry gives embodiment to it in poetic form, which\npre-eminently discovers an appropriate expression in the language\nof poetry, viewing this, as we should, as the most spiritual way of\nexpressing emotions and ideas.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) But, moreover, just as the drama combines the principles of\nthe Epos and the Lyric, dramatic diction, too, is compelled both to\ncarry and assert within itself elements that are lyrical and those\nthat are epic. The _lyrical_ approach is rather a special feature of\nmodern drama, and as a rule in those cases where the personal life is\nor tends to be self-absorbed, and seeks in its decision and action\nthroughout to retain the self-consciousness of its inward resources.\nBut none the less this unveiling of the individual heart-life, if it is\nto remain dramatic, ought not merely to be the exploitation of a vague\nand variable cloud of emotions, memories, and visions; it should keep\nits relation to the action constant throughout, should make its result\nidentical with that of the different phases of the same.\n\nIn contrast to this subjective pathos the epic character of the\ndiction, which we may define as the _objective_ pathos, is mainly\nconcerned with the unfolding of what is substantive in dramatic\nrelations, ends, and persons on lines rather directed to the vision of\nthe audience. Such a point of view can also in part assume a lyrical\ntone, remaining when it does so dramatic only in so far as it does not\nmore entirely in its independent force form the progress of the action\nand its asserted relation to the same. And over and above this, as a\nsecond residue, so to speak, of epic poetry, we may have the records of\nnarrative, descriptions of battles and the like thrown in. But these\nalso, in genuine dramatic composition, ought to be marked with greater\ncompression and animated movement, and, relatively to their presentment\nas narrative, a necessary connection with the progress of the action\nshould be evident.\n\nIn conclusion, genuine dramatic art consists in the expression of\nindividuals in the conflict of their interests and the discord roused\nbetween their characters and their transitory passions. It is here that\nthe twofold aspect of lyric and epic poetry[11] will assert its power\nin true dramatic union: and we have then attached to this the aspect of\npositive external fact expressed likewise in the medium of language, as\nwhere we have, for instance, the departure and entrance of _dramatis\npersonae_ as a rule announced beforehand; not unfrequently also their\nexternal habit or demeanour is indicated by other persons.\n\nA fundamental distinction over the entire field now under review is the\nso-called realistic mode of expression, as opposed to a conventional\nspeech of the theatre and its rhetoric. Diderot, Lessing, Goethe, and\nSchiller also in their youth addressed themselves in modern times\nabove all to this attitude of direct and natural expression. Lessing\ndid so with the powers of a trained and sensitive observation Schiller\nand Goethe did so with their predilection for the direct animation\nof unembellished robustness and force. That men should converse with\none another as in the Greek, or with more insistance--and in this\nlatter respect the criticism has a reasonable basis--as in French\ncomedy and tragedy was scouted as contrary to Nature. This type of\nnaturalism, however, may very readily, with its superfluity of merely\nrealistic traits, fall into the other extreme of dryness and prose, in\nso far, that is, as the characters are not developed in the essential\nqualities of their emotional life and action, but only as they happen\nto express themselves in the literal accuracy of their individual life,\nwithout indicating therein any more significant self-consciousness\nor any further sense of their essential position. The more natural\nthe characterization is allowed to remain in this sense the more\nprosaic it becomes. In actual life men converse and strive with one\nanother before everything else on the mere basis of their _distinct\nsingularity._ If our object is to depict them simply as such it\nis impossible that they should also be represented in their truly\nsubstantive significance.[12] And, if we look at the essence of the\nmatter, this question of crudeness and urbanity can only be in the last\ninstance treated subject to the above considerations. In other words\nwhile, on the one hand, such crudeness or coarseness is made to issue\nfrom the particular personality, which is exclusively committed to the\nunmediated dictation of an imaginative type of outlook and feeling, in\nthe converse treatment an urbanity is the outcome of a purely abstract\nand formal generalization of consideration for others, recognition\nof the claims of personality, love, honour, and the like, in which\nnothing that is suggestive of a rich and objective content can be\nexpressed.[13] Between these two extremes of a purely formal generality\nand this natural expression of unpolished peculiarities we have the\ntrue universal, which is throughout neither formal nor destitute of\nindividuality, but finds its concrete realization in a twofold way from\nthe defined content of character and the objective presence of opinions\nand aims. Genuine poetry will therefore consist in the assertion\nof what belongs to immediate and actual life as characteristic and\nindividual in the purifying medium of universality,[14] both aspects\nbeing permitted to mediate each other. In this case we are conscious,\neven in respect to diction, that without being wholly banished from the\nbasis of reality and its actual traits of truth, we are nevertheless\ncarried into another sphere, that is to say the ideal realm of art.\nOf this latter character is the diction of Greek dramatic poetry, the\nlater diction of Goethe, and in part, too, that of Schiller, and in\nhis own way Shakespeare's also, although the Englishman, owing to the\npeculiar conditions of the contemporary stage, is forced in part now\nand again to accommodate his verbal language to the actual ability of\nthe actor.[15]\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) We may _further_ classify the mode of dramatic expression as\nthat of choral interlude, monologue, and dialogue. It is the ancient\ndrama which has pre-eminently elaborated the distinction between\nchorus and dialogue. In our modern drama this falls away. What, in\nthe classical composition, was presented by the _chorus_, is now\nrather placed in the mouths of the leading characters. The choric song\nexpresses, among the ancients, by way of contrast to the particular\ncharacters and their more personal or more reciprocal conflict, the\ngeneral or more impersonal view of the situation, and the emotions it\nexcites, in a manner which at one time inclines to the objective style\nof epic narrative, at another to the impulsive movement of the Lyric.\nIn the _monologue_, on the other hand, it is the isolated individual\nwho, in a given situation of the action, becomes objective on his\nown account. Monologues are, therefore, dramatically in their right\nplace at those moments chiefly when the emotional life is entirely\nself-concentrated as the result of previous events; when it sums up,\nas it were, the nature of the cleft between itself and others, or its\nown spiritual division; or when it arrives at some sudden decision, or\ncomes to the final point of resolve on matters already long debated.\n\nThe _third_ and complete form of the drama, however, is the _dialogue_.\nFor in this the _dramatis personae_ are mutually able to express their\ncharacter and aims, not merely relatively to their personal attitude\nto each other, but also to the substantive character of the pathos\ndisclosed; they engage in conflict, and thereby actually advance the\nmovement of the action. We may further distinguish in the dialogue\nbetween the expression of a pathos that is _subjective_ and one that\nis _objective._ The first rather appertains to a given passion of more\naccidental a nature, whether it be the case in which it is retained\nessentially in suppression, and is only expressed aphoristically, or\nthat in which it finds a vent in the most complete and exhaustive\nexplosion. Poets, who endeavour to arouse the full movement of personal\nemotion by means of poignant scenes, are exceptionally partial to this\ntype of pathos. Nevertheless, despite all their endeavour to depict\npersonal suffering and unrestrained passion, or the unreconciled inward\ndissension of soul-life, it remains the fact that the human soul,\nin its depth, is less effected thereby than it is through a pathos,\nwherein at the same time a genuine objective content is evolved.\nFor this reason the earlier plays of Goethe, despite all the real\npenetration of their subject-matter and the natural force of their\ndialogue, make on the whole a weaker impression. And, in the same way,\noutbreaks of unrelieved distraction and unrestrained fury, effect a\ntruly healthy sense only in subordinate degree; and, above all, what\nis wholly frightful rather chills us than makes the blood flow. The\npoet may describe passion with all the overwhelming power possible.\nIt is ineffective; the heart is merely rent in pieces,[16] and turns\naside from it. What we fail to find here is that which art can least\ndispense with, the positive aspect of reconciliation. The ancient\ntragedians, therefore, mainly sought for their effect by means of the\nobjective type of pathos; nor is there wanting here genuine human\nindividuality, so far as this was compatible with their art. The plays,\nalso, of Schiller possess this pathos of a great spiritual force,[17] a\npathos which is penetrative throughout, and is manifested and expressed\neverywhere as fundamental to the action. It is, above all, to this\ncircumstance that we may ascribe the lasting effect which the tragedies\nof Schiller produce even in our own day; I refer in particular to\ntheir scenic reproduction. For that which produces a profound dramatic\neffect of universal and enduring appeal can be only the substantive in\naction--by which I mean, viewing it as definite content, the ethical\nsubstance therein, or, in its more formal aspect, the grandeur of ideal\nreach and character, in which respect, again, Shakespeare is supreme.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) I will, in conclusion, add merely a word or two on the point of\n_verse-measure._ Dramatic metre is best when it lies midway between\nthe tranquil, uniform flow of the hexameter and the more interrupted\nand split-up syllabic metres congenial to the Lyric. In this respect\nthe iambic metre is above all others commendable. For the iambus, with\nthe rhythm of its onward movement, which may be either accelerated by\nanapaests, or be made more solemn and weighty with the spondee, forms a\nmost fitting accompaniment to the march of the action; and in quite a\npeculiar way the senarius possesses a real tone of noble and restrained\nemotional force. Among modern authors the Spaniards, with an artistic\npurpose the reverse of this, adopt trochaeic tetrameters, the effect of\nwhich is one of tranquil retardation; a measure which, with its variety\nof interwoven rhymes and assonances, in part, too, with its alternative\nabsence of rhyme, is admirably adapted to the imaginative exuberance\nof phantasy, and to the fine-drawn argumentative antitheses, which\ncharacterize this poetry and impede rather than advance the action.\nIn a contrast of a similar kind, the French Alexandrine is harmonious\nwith the formal carriage and the declamatory rhetoric of passions,\nsometimes held in restraint and at others expressed at full heat, the\nconventional expression of which the art of French drama has tasked\nitself to elaborate. The more realistic Englishman, whom we Germans too\nhave followed in more recent times, has, on the contrary, retained the\niambic metre, which Aristotle long ago defined as \u03c4\u1f40 \u03bc\u03ac\u03bb\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1 \u03bb\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd\n\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03bc\u1f10\u03c4\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd[18] He has, however, not accepted the same in identical form\nwith the Greek trimeter, but substituted a measure of less pathetic\ncharacter, if capable of the greatest freedom of treatment.\n\n(_c_) _The Relation of the Dramatic Composition to the General Public._\n\nAlthough the advantages or defects of diction and metre are important,\nalso, in epic and lyrical poetry, we must nevertheless ascribe a\nmore emphatic effect to them in dramatic compositions, in virtue of\nthe circumstance that we are in this case dealing with opinions,\ncharacters, and actions which have to appear before us in all the\nreality of life itself. A comedy of Calderon, for example, with all\nthe interplay of fantastic wit we may assume, embodied, however, in\nthe kind of diction we associate with this poet, with its logical\nniceties and its bombast--subject, also, to all the variations of his\nlyrical metres--would not, we may presume, on the simple ground of this\nmanner of expression, be likely to arouse any general sympathy. It is\non account of this visual presence and nearness of approach that the\nother aspects of the content, apart from that of purely dramatic form,\nare brought into a far more direct relation to the public before whom\nthey are reproduced. We should like shortly to explain the nature of\nthis.\n\nScientific compositions and lyrical or epic poems either possess a\ndistinct public, whose interest in such works is associated with their\nprofession, or it is a matter of chance into what hands compositions\nof this character may fall. If a book does not please anyone it can be\nneglected, just as a man passes by the picture or statue that he does\nnot like; such works may, in fact, be held to carry to some extent\nwith them the author's admission that his book is not written for\nsuch. The case is somewhat otherwise with dramatic works. Here we have\na distinct public for which the author has to cater, and he is under\ncertain obligations towards it. Such a public possesses the right of\napplause no less than expressed displeasure; inasmuch as a work is\nrepresented before it in its entirety, and the appeal is made that it\nshould be enjoyed, with sympathy in a given place and at a stated time.\nA public of this sort, as in the case of any--other public jury, is\nof a very varied character; it differs in its education, interests,\naccustomed tastes, and hobbies, so that to secure complete success in\ncertain distinct respects a talent in the display of vulgar effect, or\nat least a relative shame-facedness in regard to the finest demand of\ngenuine art, may be necessary. No doubt the dramatic poet has always\nthe alternative left him to despise his public. But in that case he\nobviously fails to secure the very object for which dramatic writing\nexists. With us Germans, to an exceptional extent, it has become the\nfashion since the times of Tieck thus to scorn the public. Our German\nplay-writer will express his own particular individuality, but takes\nno trouble to commend the result to his audience. The ideal of our\nGerman egotism is quite the reverse, namely, that every man must turn\nout something different to that of other people, in order that he\nmay prove his originality. It was owing, in part, to this that Tieck\nand the brothers Schlegel, men who, from the very nature of their\nsentimental irony, were quite unable to master the emotional forces\nand intelligence of their nation and time, fell foul of Schiller,\nand tried to blacken his poetical reputation on the ground that he\ndid among us Germans manage to strike the right key, and obtain a\npopularity unsurpassed. With our neighbours, the French, we find the\nopposite. Their authors write with the present effect on the public\nalways in view, which further, on its own account, is capable of being\na keener and less indulgent critic of the author, owing to the fact\nthat a more definite artistic taste is already fixed in France: with us\nanarchy prevails, and everyone expresses his critical views, applauds\nor condemns just as he likes, or as his opinions, emotion, and mood may\nchance to dictate.\n\nInasmuch, however, as it is an essential part of the definition of\nthe dramatic composition that it should possess the vitality able\nto command a favourable popular reception, the dramatic poet should\nsubmit to the conditions--quite apart, that is, from the accidental\ncircumstances or tendencies of the time--which are likely to secure\nthis result in an artistic form. What these are I will attempt to\nexplain, at least in their more general features.\n\n(_a_) Now, in the _first_ place, the ends, which in a dramatic work\ncome into conflict and are resolved out of such conflict, either\npossess a general human interest, or at least have at bottom a pathos,\nwhich is of a valid and substantive character for the people for whom\nthe poet creates his work. In such a case, however, the universal human\nquality and what is more definitely national, in so far as either are\nconnected with the substance of dramatic collisions, may lie very\nwidely apart. Compositions, which stand in the national life, at the\nvery summit of their dramatic art and development, may consequently\nquite fail to be appreciated by another age and nation. We find, for\nexample, in Hindoo lyrical poetry, even in our own time, much that\ncarries with it a real charm, tenderness, and fascinating sweetness.\nThe particular collision, however, around which the action in the\n\"Sakontala\" revolves, in other words, the furious curse upon Sakontala\nof the Brahman, because she does not see him, and omits to make her\nobeisance, can only strike us as absurd, so much so in fact that,\ndespite all other excellences in this quite exceptionally beautiful\npoem, we fail to discover any interest in the very culminating crisis\nof the action. We may affirm very much the same thing of the way\nin which the Spaniards treat the motive of personal honour with the\nabstract severity of a logic, the brutality of which outrages most\ndeeply all our ideas and feelings. Let me recall, for example, the\nattempt made by our own theatrical management to bring upon the stage\none of the less famous plays of Calderon entitled \"Clandestine Revenge\nfor Clandestine Insult,\" an attempt condemned to failure from the first\non this ground. Another tragedy, which on similar lines portrays a\nmore profound human conflict, \"The Physician of his own Honour,\" under\nthe changed title of \"The Intrepid Prince,\" has after some revision\nsecured more leeway; but this, too, is handicapped by its abstract\nand unyielding Catholic principle. Conversely, and in an opposite\ndirection, the Shakespearian tragedies and comedies are appreciated\nby a public that is constantly increasing. We find here that, despite\nall their nationality, the universal human interest is incomparably\ngreater. Shakespeare has only failed to secure an entrance where the\nnational conventions of art are so narrow and specific that they either\nwholly exclude or materially weaken works of the Shakespearian type. A\nsimilar position of advantage, such as that we allow to Shakespeare,\nwould be attributable to the tragedies of the ancients, if we did not,\napart from our changed habits in respect to scenic reproduction and\ncertain aspects of the national consciousness, make the further demand\nof a profounder psychological penetration and a greater breadth of\nparticular characterization. So far, however, as the _subject-matter_\nof ancient tragedy is concerned, it could never at any time fail in\nits effect. We may, therefore, broadly affirm that, in proportion as\na dramatic work accepts for its content wholly specific rather than\ntypical characters and passions, conditioned, that is, exclusively\nby definite tendencies of a particular epoch of history, instead of\nmainly concerning itself with human interests substantive in all times,\nto that extent, despite of all its other advantages, it will be more\ntransitory.\n\n(_\u03b2_) And, _further_, it is necessary that universal human ends and\nactions of this kind should emphasize their poetic individualization to\nthe point of animated life itself. Dramatic composition does not merely\naddress itself to our sense of vitality, a sense which even the public\ncertainly ought to possess, but it must itself, in all essentials,\noffer a living actual presence of situations, conditions, characters,\nand actions.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) I have already, in a previous passage of this work,[19]\nentered into some detail relatively to the aspect of local\nenvironment, customs, usages and other matters which affect the visual\nrepresentation of action. In this respect dramatic individualization\nought to be either so thoroughly poetical, vital, and rich with\ninterest that we can discount what is alien to our sense, and feel\nourselves attracted to the performance by this vital claim on our\nattention, or it should not pretend to do more than present such\ncharacteristics as external form, which is entirely outshone by the\nspiritual and ideal characteristics which underlie it.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) More important than this external aspect is the vitality of the\n_dramatis personae._ Such ought not to be merely specific interests\npersonified, which is only too frequently the case at the hands\nof modern dramatists. Such abstract impersonations of particular\npassions and aims are wholly destitute of dramatic effect. A purely\nsuperficial individualization is equally insufficient. Content and form\nin such cases, as in the analogous type of allegorical figures, fail\nto coalesce. Profound emotions and reflections, imposing ideas and\nlanguage offer no real compensation. Dramatic personality ought to be,\non the contrary, vital and self-identical throughout, a complete whole\nin short, the opinions and characterization of which are consonant with\nits aims and action. It is not the breadth of particular traits which\nis here of first importance, but the permeating individuality, which\nsynthetically binds all in the central unity, which it in truth is, and\ndisplays a given personality in speech and action as issuing from one\nand the same living source, from which every characteristic, whether\nit be of idea, deed or manner of behaviour, comes into being. That\nwhich is merely an aggregate of different qualities and activities,\neven though such be strung together in one string, will not give us\nthe vital character we require. This presupposes from the point of\nview of the poet himself a creative activity which is instinct with\nlife and imagination. It is to the latter type, for instance, that\nthe characters of the Sophoclean tragedies belong, despite the fact\nthat they do not possess the variety of particular characteristics\nwhich distinguish the epic heroes of Homer. Among later writers\nShakespeare and Goethe are pre-eminently famous for the vitality of\ntheir characterization. The French, on the contrary, particularly\nin their earlier dramatic compositions, appear to have been rather\ncontent to excogitate characters that are little more than the formal\nimpersonations of general types and passions, than to have aimed at\ngiving us true and living persons.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) But, _thirdly_, the task of dramatic creation is not completed\nwith the presentment of vital characterization. Goethe's Iphigeneia\nand Tasso throughout are good enough examples of this poetic\nexcellence--and yet they are not, if we look at them more strictly,\nby any means perfect examples of dramatic vitality and movement. It\nis for this reason that Schiller long ago remarked of the Iphigeneia,\nthat in it is the ethical content, the heart experience, the personal\nopinion which is made the object of the action, and is as such visually\nreproduced. And unquestionably the display and expression of the\npersonal experience of different characters in definite situations\nis not by itself sufficient; we must also have real emphasis laid\non the collision of the _ultimate ends_ involved, and the forward\nand conflicting movement which such imply. Schiller is consequently\nof the view that the movement of the Iphigeneia is not sufficiently\ndisturbed; we are permitted to linger within it too long and easily. He\neven maintains that it without question inclines to the sphere of epic\ncomposition, if we contrast it at least with any strict conception of\ntragedy. In other words, dramatic effect is action simply as action; it\nis not the exposition of personality alone, or practically independent\nof the express purpose and its final achievement. In the Epos play\nmay be permitted to the breadth and variety of character, external\nconditions, occurrences and events; in the drama, on the contrary, the\nself-concentration of its principle is most asserted relatively to the\nparticular collision and its conflict. It is thus that we recognize\nthe truth of Aristotle's dictum,[20] that tragic action possesses two\nsources (\u03b1\u1f34\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1 \u03b4\u1f50o), opinion and character (\u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03bdo\u03b9\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f26\u03b4o\u03c2), but what\nis most important is the end (\u03c4\u03ad\u03bbo\u03c2), and individuals do not act in\norder to display diverse characters, but these latter are united with a\ncommon bond of imaginative conception to the former in the interest of\nthe action.\n\n(_\u03b3_) As a matter for our _final_ consideration in this place there is\nthe relation in which the _poet_ is placed to the general public. Epic\npoetry in its truly primitive state requires that the poet place wholly\non one side his distinctive personality in its contrast to his actually\nobjective work. He offers us the content of that and only that. The\nlyric poet, on the contrary, deliberately expresses his own emotional\nlife and his personal views of the world.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) We might imagine that the poet must perforce withdraw himself\nin the drama by reason of the very fact that he brings action before\nus in its sensuous presence, and makes the characters speak and active\nin their own names, to a greater extent than in the Epos, in which he\nappears at any rate as narrator of the events. Such an impression is\nonly, however, very partially valid. For, as I have already contended,\nthe drama is exclusively referable in its origin to those epochs, in\nwhich the personal self-consciousness, both relatively to the general\noutlook on life and artistic culture, has already reached a high degree\nof development. A dramatic composition therefore should not, as an\nepic one does, present the appearance as though it originated from the\npopular consciousness simply, for the display of which content the poet\nis merely an instrument of expression which possesses no reference\nto the poet's personal life; rather what we seek to recognize in the\ncomplete work is quite as much the product of the self-aware and\noriginal creative force, and by reason of this the art and virtuosity\nof a genuine poetic personality. It is only thereby that dramatic\nproductions attain to the genuine excellence of their artistic vitality\nand definition, as contrasted with the actions and events of natural\nlife. It is on this account that where the authorship of dramatic works\nis a subject of controversy we find such to be nowhere more frequent\nthan where it concerns the primitive Epopaea.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) From the opposite point of view the general public too, if it\nhas itself preserved a true sense of meaning of art, will not submit\nto have placed before it in a drama the more accidental moods and\nopinions, the peculiar tendencies and the one-sided outlook of this\nor that individual, the expression of which is more appropriate to\nthe lyric poet. It has a right to demand that in the course and final\nissue of the dramatic action, whether of tragedy or comedy, what is\nfundamentally reasonable and true should be vindicated. Being myself\nconvinced of this I have in a previous passage given a place of first\nimportance to the demand that the dramatic poet must in the profoundest\nsense make himself master of the essential significance of human\naction and the divine order of the world, and along with this of a\npower to unfold this eternal and essential foundation of all human\ncharacters, passions and destinies in its clarity as also in its vital\ntruth. It is no doubt quite possible that a poet, in rising equal to\nthis demand upon his powers of penetration and artistic achievement,\nmay under particular circumstances find himself in conflict with\nthe restricted and uncultured ideas of his age and nation. In such\na case the responsibility for such a disunion does not rest with\nhimself, but is a burden the public ought to carry. He has the single\nobligation to follow the lead of truth and his own compelling genius,\nthe ultimate victory of which, provided it is of the right quality,\nis no less assured than that of ultimate truth itself universally. It\nis impossible to define closely the limits within which a dramatic\npoet is entitled to bring his actual personality before the public. I\nwill therefore merely recall attention to the fact in a general way\nthat in many periods of history dramatic poetry, no less than other\nkinds, is induced to disseminate with a vital impulse novel ideas\nupon politics, morals, poetry, religion, and the like. So early as\nAristophanes we have polemics in those comedies of his youth against\nthe domestic condition of Athens and the Peloponnesian war. Voltaire\nagain frequently endeavours in his dramatic works to popularize his\nfree thought principles. But above all worthy of notice is the effort\nof our Lessing in his \"Nathan\" to vindicate his ethical faith against\nthe strait waistcoat of a blockish orthodoxy. In still more recent\ntimes too Goethe has in his earliest works challenged the prose of our\nGerman life and its defective views of art. Tieck has to some extent\nfollowed his lead in this respect. Where personal views of the above\ntype are not only of superior worth, but are further not expressed in\nsuch deliberate separation from the action of the drama as to make\nthe latter appear as a mere means for their exploitation, the claims\nof true art are not likely to suffer injury. If, however, the freedom\nof the composition is thereby impaired, though no doubt the poet may\npossibly produce no inconsiderable impression on the public by his\nintroduction of his own predilections into his work; yet, however true\nthey may be, if they are at the same time unable to coalesce with the\nwork as an artistic whole the interest thereby aroused can only be\nlimited to the matters thus handled; it is in fact no true artistic\ninterest at all. The worst case of all is that, however, where a poet\nwith similar deliberation seeks, out of pure flattery and in order to\nplease, to give prominence to some popular prejudice which is entirely\nfalse. His sins of commission are in that case twofold, not merely\nagainst art, but truth no less.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) One further remark may be perhaps admitted in this connection\nto the effect that among the particular types of dramatic art a more\nlimited measure of indulgence is permitted to tragedy than to comedy\nin this more free expatiation of the personality of the poet. In the\nlatter type the contingency and caprice of individual self-expression\nis from the first agreeable to its main principle. Thus we find that\nAristophanes frequently makes matters of immediate interest to his\nAthenian public the subject of his parabases. In portions of these\nhe gives free utterance to his own views upon contemporary events\nand circumstances, and withal shrewd advice to his fellow citizens.\nHe is at other times concerned to defend himself from the attacks of\npolitical opponents and his artistic rivals. Indeed there are passages\nin which he deliberately eulogizes himself and his peculiarities.\n\n\n\n\n2. THE EXTERNAL TECHNIQUE OF A DRAMATIC COMPOSITION\n\n\nPoetry, alone among the arts, completely dispenses with the sensuous\nmedium of the objective world of phenomena. Inasmuch moreover as the\ndrama does not interpret to the imaginative vision the exploits of\nthe past, or express an ideal personal experience to mind and soul,\nbut rather is concerned to depict an action in all the reality of its\nactual presence, it would fall into contradiction with itself if it\nwere forced to remain limited to the means, which poetry, simply as\nsuch, is in a position to offer. The present action no doubt belongs\nentirely to the personal self, and from this point of view complete\nexpression is possible through the medium of language. From an opposite\none, however, the movement of action is towards objective reality, and\nit requires the complete man to express its movement in his corporeal\nexistence, deed and demeanour, as well as the physiognomical expression\nof emotions and passions, and not only these on their own account,\nbut in their effect on other men, and the reactions which are thereby\nbrought into being. Moreover, in the display of individuality in its\nactual presence, we require further an external environment, a specific\n_locale_, in which such movement and action is achieved. Consequently\ndramatic poetry, by virtue of the fact that no one of these aspects can\nbe permitted to remain in their immediate condition of contingency,\nbut have all to be reclothed in an artistic form as phases of fine\nart itself, is compelled to avail itself of the assistance of pretty\nwell all the other arts. The surrounding scene is to some extent,\njust as the temple is, an architectonic environment, and in part also\nexternal Nature, both aspects being conceived and executed in pictorial\nfashion. In this _locale_ the sculpturesque figures are presented with\nthe animation of life, and their volition and emotional states are\nartistically elaborated, not merely by means of expressive recitation,\nbut also through a picturesque display of gesture and of posture and\nmovement, which, in its objective form, is inspired by the inward\nsoul-life. In this respect we may have brought home to us a distinction\nwhich recalls a feature I have at an earlier stage indicated in the\nsphere of music as the opposition implied in the arts of declamation\nand melody. In other words, just as in declamatory music language in\nits spiritual signification is the aspect of most importance, to the\ncharacteristic expression of which the musical aspect is entirely\nsubordinate, whereas the movement of melody is unfolded freely on its\nown account in its own specific medium, although it too is able to\nassimilate the content of language--so also dramatic poetry, on the one\nhand, avails itself of those sister arts merely as instrumental to a\nmaterial basis and environment, out of which the language of poetry is\nin its free domination asserted as the commanding central focus, upon\nand around which all else really revolves. From the further point of\nview, however, that which in the first instance had merely the force of\nan assistant and accompaniment, becomes an object on its own account,\nand receives the appearance in its own domain of an essentially\nindependent beauty. Declamation passes into song, action into the mimic\nof the dance, and scenery in its splendour and pictorial fascination\nitself puts forward a claim to artistic perfection.\n\nIn contrasting, then, a contrast frequently insisted upon, and more\nparticularly in recent times, poetry in its simplicity with the\nexternal dramatic execution such as we have above described, we\nmay continue the course of our review under the following heads of\ndiscussion.\n\n_First,_ there is the dramatic poetry, whose object is to restrict\nitself to the ordinary ground of poetry, and consequently does not\ncontemplate the theatrical representation of its productions.\n\n_Secondly_, we have the genuine art of the theatre, to the extent that\nis in which it is limited to recitation, play of pose and action, under\nthe modes in which the language of the poet is able throughout to\nremain the definitive and decisive factor.\n\n_Lastly_, there is that type of reproduction, which admits the\nemployment of every means of scenery, music and dance, and suffers the\nsame to assert an independent position as against the dramatic language.\n\n(_a_) _The Reading and Recitation of Dramatical Compositions._\n\nThe true sensuous medium or instrument of dramatic poetry is, as we\nhave seen, not only the human voice and the spoken word, but the entire\nman, who not merely expresses emotions, ideas, and thoughts, but, as\nvitally absorbed in a concrete action, in virtue of all that he is\ninfluences the ideas, designs, the action and behaviour of others,\nexperiences similar effects on himself, or maintains his independent\nopposition to them.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In contrast to such a definite view, which is based upon the\nessential character of dramatic poetry itself, it is a feature of\nmodern notions on the subject, particularly so among ourselves,\nto regard the organization of drama with a view to its theatrical\nreproduction as unessential and subsidiary, although as a fact all\ndramatic authors, even when they adopt this attitude of indifference\nand contempt, entertain the wish and hope to see their compositions\non the stage. The result is that the greater number of more recent\ndramas are unable ever to find a stage, and the simple reason of this\nis that they are undramatical. We are not of course, therefore, in a\nposition to deny that a dramatic composition may satisfy the conditions\nof genuine poetry in virtue of its intrinsic worth. What we affirm is\nthat it is only to an action, the dramatic course of which is admirably\nadapted to theatrical representation, that we are to attribute such\nintrinsic dramatic worth. The best authority for such a statement is\nsupplied by the Greek tragedies. It is true that we no longer see these\non the contemporary stage, but they do nevertheless, if we regard the\nfacts more closely, completely satisfy us to a real extent precisely on\nthis ground that they were written without reserve for the theatre of\ntheir day. What has banished them from the theatre of today is not so\nmuch the character of their dramatic organization, which differs mainly\nfrom that of to-day in its employment of the chorus, as in the nature\nof national predilections and conditions, upon which for the most part,\nif we consider their content, they are based, and in which owing to the\ndistance in which they are placed relatively to our own contemporary\nlife we are unable now to feel ourselves at home. The malady of\nPhiloctetes, for instance, the loathsome ulcer on his foot, his\nejaculations and outcries, are as little likely to awaken the genuine\ninterest of a modern audience as the arrows of Hercules, about which\nthe main course of that drama revolves. In a similar way, though we may\nadmit the barbaric cruelty of the human sacrifice in the Iphigeneia\nin Aulis and Tauris in an opera, we find it absolutely necessary in\ntragedy at any rate that this aspect should be wholly revised as Goethe\nhas in fact done.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The difference, however, thus indicated between ancient and\nmodern customs, which effects the mere perusal of such works, no\nless than the complete and vital reproduction of them as a whole, has\nhad the further effect of pointing out to us another by-way, in which\npoets to some extent deliberately fashion their work exclusively for\nthe reader's perusal, and in a manner by which the difficulty above\nindicated no longer affects the character of such compositions. There\nare no doubt in this connection isolated points of view, which merely\nrefer to features of external form, which are implied in the so-called\nknowledge of the stage, and an indifference as to which does not lessen\nthe poetical worth of a dramatical production. To these belong, for\nexample, the careful regulation of the scenic arrangements, that one\nscene can follow without difficulty after another, though it requires\ngreat alterations in the scenery, or that the actor is given sufficient\ntime to make the necessary change of costume, or to recover from his\nprevious exertions. A knowledge and aptitude of this nature is neither\nindicative of any poetical superiority or the reverse; they rather\ndepend upon the naturally varying and conventional arrangements of\nthe theatre. There are, however, other features relatively to which\nthe poet, in order to be truly dramatical, must have the animated\nreproduction visibly present in its substance, must make his _dramatis\npersonae_ speak and act conformably thereto, that is, in complete\ncongruity with an actually present realization. Viewed in this light\ntheatrical reproduction is a real test. For in the presence of the\nsupreme court of appeal of a sound and artistic public the mere\nspeeches and tirades of our so-called exquisite diction, if dramatic\ntruth is not thereby asserted, will not hold water. There are periods,\nno doubt, in which the public also is corrupted by the culture it is\nthe fashion so highly to praise, I mean by heads generally overstocked\nwith the current opinions and fancies of the connoisseur and critic.\nLet it however only retain its own essentially sterling commonsense,\nand it will only be satisfied in those cases where characters express\nthemselves and act precisely as the reality of life no less than\nart demands and necessitates. If the poet, on the contrary, writes\nexclusively for the single reader he very readily gets no further\nthan making his characters speak and behave much as they might do in\nan epistolary correspondence. If any one thus gives us the reasons\nfor his aims and what he does, or unbares his heart in any other\nrespect, instead of that which we should at once remark thereupon we\nget between the receipt of the letter and our immediate reply time\nfor all kinds of reflection and idea. The imagination opens in this\ncase a wide field of possibilities. In the _actually present_ speech\nand rejoinder we have to presuppose that as between man and man the\nvolition and heart, the movement of feeling and decision are more\ndirect, that in short the dialogue passes on without any such recourse\nto considerable reflection, but at once from soul to soul, as eye to\neye, mouth to mouth, and ear to ear. Only in such a case the actions\nand speeches are expressed with life from the actual personality, who\nhas no time left him to make a careful selection from one out of many\npossibilities. Under this view of the case it is not unimportant for\nthe poet throughout his composition to keep his eye on the stage, which\nrenders such a direct type of animation necessary. Nay, for myself\nI go to the length of maintaining that no dramatic work ought to be\nprinted, but rather, as no doubt with the ancients, it should belong to\nthe stage repertory in manuscript form,[21] and only receive quite an\ninsignificant circulation. We should at least in that case limit very\nconsiderably the present superabundance of dramas, which it is possible\npossess the speech of culture, fine sentiments, excellent reflections,\nand profound thoughts, but which are defective in the very direction\nwhich makes a drama dramatical, that is, in the display of action, and\nthe vital movement which belongs to it.\n\n(_\u03b3_) In the mere _perusal_ and _reading aloud_ of dramatic\ncompositions we find a difficulty in deciding whether they are of\na type which would produce the due effect from the stage. Even\nGoethe, whose experience of stage management in his later years was\nexceptional, was far from being dependable on this head, a result no\ndoubt mainly due to the extraordinary confusion of our public taste,\nwhich is able to accept with approval almost anything and everything.\nIf the character and object of the _dramatis personae_ are on their\nown account great and substantive the manner of composition no doubt\npresents less difficulty. But as regards the motive force of interests,\nthe various phases in the progress of the action, the suspended\ninterest and development of situations, the just degree in which\ncharacters assert their effect on each other, the appropriate force\nand truth of their demeanour and speech--in all such respects the mere\nperusal unassisted by a theatrical performance can only in the rarest\ncases arrive at a reliable decision. Reading a work aloud is only under\ngreat qualification a further assistance. Speech in drama requires\nthe presence of separate individuals. The delivery of _one voice_,\nhowever artistically it may adapt itself to different shades of tone\nin alternate or varying change is insufficient. Add to this the fact\nthat in reading aloud we are throughout confronted with the difficulty\nwhether on every occasion the persons speaking should be mentioned or\nnot. Both alternations are equally open to objection. If the delivery\nis that of one voice the statement of the names of the characters\nspeaking becomes an indispensable condition of intelligibility, but by\ndoing so the expression of pathos throughout suffers violence. If, on\nthe other hand, the delivery is vitally dramatic, and we are carried\nthereby into the actual situation, a further kind of contradiction\ncan hardly fail to appear. For with the satisfaction of our sense of\nhearing that of sight puts forward a certain claim of its own. For\nwhen we listen to an action we desire to see the acting persons, their\ndemeanour and surroundings; the eye craves for a completed vision, and\nfinds instead before it merely a reciter, who sits or stands peacefully\nin a private house with company. Reading aloud or recitation is\nconsequently always an unsatisfying compromise between the unambitious\npretensions of private perusal, in which the aspect of realization is\nabsent entirely and all is left to the imagination, and the complete\ntheatrical presentation.\n\n(_b_) _The Art of the Actor_\n\nIn conjunction with actual dramatic reproduction there is along with\nmusic a second practical art, namely, that of _acting_, the complete\ndevelopment of which belongs entirely to more recent times. Its\nprinciple consists in this, that while it summons to its assistance\ndramatic posture, action, declamation, music, dance, and scenery,\nit accepts as the predominant mark of its effort human speech and\nits poetical expression. And this is for poetry in its simplest\nsignificance the exclusively just relation. For if mere mimicry or song\nor dance once begin to assume an independent position of their own,\npoetry viewed as a fine and creative art is degraded to the position\nof an instrument, and loses its ascendancy over the in other respects\naccompanying arts. We will venture to point out a few characteristic\ndistinctions in this connection.\n\n(_\u03b1_) The primary phase of the art of acting is to be found among\nthe Greeks. Here, as one aspect of the matter, the art of speech is\naffiliated with that of sculpture. The acting _dramatis personae_\nstands before us as an objective figure in his entire bodily\nrealization. In so far as here this statuesque figure is animated,\nassimilates and expresses the content of the poetry, enters into every\nmovement of personal passion and at the same time asserts it through\nword and voice, this presentation is more animated and more spiritually\ntransparent than any statue or picture.\n\nAs to this quality of living animation we may draw a distinction\nbetween two distinct ways of regarding it.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) _First_, there is declamation in the sense of artistic speech.\nDeclamation was not carried far among the Greeks; intelligibility is\nhere what is of most importance. We desire to recognize in the tone of\nthe voice and in the quality of the recitations the characterization\nof soul-life in its finest shades and transitions, as also in its\noppositions and contrasts, in short, in its entire concreteness.\nThe ancients, on the contrary, added a musical accompaniment to\ndeclamation, partly to emphasize rhythm, and in part to increase\nthe modulation of the verbal expression. At the same time it is\nprobable that the dialogue was either not at all or only very lightly\naccompanied. To the reproduction of the choruses, however, the lyric\nassociation of music was essential. It is highly probable that\nsinging, by means of its more definite accentuation of the meaning of\nthe language used in the choice strophes and antistrophes, made the\nsame more intelligible; only under such an assumption can I myself\nunderstand how it was possible for a Greek audience to follow the\nchoruses of either \u00c6schylus or Sophocles. I admit that such choruses\nmight not necessarily present to a Greek all the difficulties _we_\nourselves experience; at the same time I confess that, though I know\nthe German language well and am not wholly destitute of imagination,\nGerman lyrics written in the same style, if declaimed from the stage,\neven with the full accompaniment of song, would still be far from\nwholly intelligible.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) A _further_ means of interpretation is supplied by the pose and\nmovement of the body. In this respect it is worth noticing that with\nthe Greeks the play of facial expression is entirely absent, by reason\nof the fact that their actors wore masks. The facial contour returned\nan unalterable sculpturesque image, the plastic outlines of which were\nas unable to assimilate the varied expression of particular states\nof soul, as to reproduce the acting characters, which fought through\na pathos securely fixed and universal in the nature of its dramatic\nconflict, and neither deepened the substance of this pathos to the\nideal intensity of our modern emotional life, nor suffered it to expand\ninto all the particularization of the world of dramatic individualities\nnow in vogue. The action was equally simple, for which reason we do\nnot possess any tradition of famous Greek mimes. Sometimes the poet\nhimself was actor; both Sophocles and Aristophanes are examples. To\nsome extent the mere citizen, who was not strictly a professional actor\nat all, took a part in tragedy. As a set-off to such difficulties the\nchoric songs were accompanied with the dance, a procedure which can\nonly appear frivolous to us Germans in the view we generally take of\nthe dance. With the Greeks it belonged as an essential feature to their\ntheatrical performances.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) To summarize, then, we find that among the ancients not only\nwas the poetical claim of language, and the intelligible expression\nof general emotional states, freely admitted, but also the external\nrealization received the most complete elaboration by means of musical\naccompaniment and the dance. A concrete unity of this kind gives to\nthe entire presentation a plastic character. What is spiritual is not\non its own account idealized as part of a personal soul-life, nor is\nit expressed under such a mode of particularization; the main effect\nis to bring about its complete affiliation and reconciliation with the\nexternal aspect of sensuous appearance whose correspondent claim is\nequally recognized.\n\n(_\u03b2_) In rivalry with music and the dance speech suffers injury, in so\nfar as it ought to remain the _spiritual_ expression of spirit. Our\nmodern art of the theatre has consequently succeeded in liberating\nitself from such features. The poet is by this means exclusively placed\nin a relation to the actor simply, who, by his declamation, play of\nfacial expression, and posture, has to represent to vision the poetical\nwork. This relation of the author to the external material is, however,\nin its contrast to other arts, quite unique. In painting and sculpture\nit is the artist himself, who executes his conceptions in colour,\nbronze, or marble; and although musical execution is dependent upon\nthe hands and voices of others, yet the feature thus added, albeit, of\ncourse, the element of soul in the delivery ought not to be absent,\nis none the less, to a more or less degree, overwhelmingly mechanical\ntechnique and virtuosity.[22] The actor, on the contrary, appears\nbefore us in the entire personality which combines his bodily presence,\nphysiognomy, voice, and so forth, and it is his function to coalesce\nabsolutely with the character he portrays.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) In this respect the poet has the right to demand of the actor\nthat he enters with all his faculties into the part he receives,\nwithout adding thereto anything peculiar to himself, that, in short, he\nacts in complete consonance with the creative conception and means of\nits display supplied by the poet. The actor ought, in fact, to be the\ninstrument upon which the author plays, an artist's brush which absorbs\nall colours and returns the same unchanged. Among the ancients this was\nmore easily achieved for the reason that declamation, as above stated,\nwas mainly restricted to clarity of meaning, and music looked after\nthe aspect of rhythm, while masks concealed the faces, and, moreover,\nnot much scope was left to the action. Consequently, the actor could\nwithout real difficulty conform in his delivery to a universal tragic\npathos; and although too, in comedy, portraits of living people such\nas Socrates, Nicias, Creon, and so forth, had to be represented, in a\nreal measure the masks reproduced characteristic traits with sufficient\nforce, and further we should note that a detailed individualization\nwas less necessary, inasmuch as the comic poets, as a rule, merely\nintroduced such characters in order to represent general tendencies of\nthe time.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The position is different in the modern theatre. Here, to start\nwith, we have no masks or musical accompaniment, but have instead of\nthese the play of facial expression, the variety of pose, and a richly\nmodulated style of declamation. For, on the one hand, human passions,\neven when they are expressed by the poet in a more general and typical\ncharacterization, have none the less to be asserted as part of an inner\nand personal life; and for the rest our modern characters receive,\nfor the most part, a far more extended compass of particularization,\nthe distinctively appropriate expression of which has in the same way\nto be placed before us with all the animation of present life. The\ncharacters of Shakespeare are, above all, entire men, standing before\nus in distinctively unique personality, so that we require of our\nactors that they, for their part, give us back the entire impression of\nsuch complete creations. There is no specific r\u00f4le here that does not\nrequire a definite kind of expression fitted to it, and which covers\nin fact every feature of its display, whether we regard that which we\ncannot see or that which we do, whether it be in the tone of the voice,\nthe mode of delivery, gesticulation, or facial expression. For this\nreason, apart from the nature of the dialogue, the varied character\nof the pose and gesture, through every possible shade, receives an\nentirely new significance. In fact, the modern poet leaves to the actor\nself-expression here much that the ancients would have expressed in\nwords. Take the example of the final scene of Wallenstein. The old\nOctavio has assisted materially in the downfall of Wallenstein. He\nfinds him treacherously murdered by the machinations of Buttler, and at\nthe very moment when the Countess Terzky makes the announcement that\nshe has taken poison, an imperial letter arrives. Gordon, after reading\nthe same, hands it to Octavio with a glance of reproach, adding the\nwords, \"To the Lord Piccolomini.\" Octavio is confounded, and, pained\nto the heart, glances heavenwards. That which Octavio experiences in\nthis reward for a service, for the bloody issue of which he himself is\nmainly responsible, is in this passage not expressed in so many words,\nbut is left solely to the gesture of the actor.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) Owing to demands of this kind made by our modern art of\nacting, poetry may, relatively to the material of its presentation,\nnot unfrequently opens up difficulties unknown to the ancients. In\nother words, the actor, being the man he is, possesses, in respect\nto voice, figure, physiognomical expression, as everybody else, his\nnative peculiarities, which he is compelled to set on one side, either\nowing to their incompatibility with a pathos of universal import and a\nreally typical characterization, or to bring them into harmony with the\nmore complete personalities of a type of poetry rich in its power of\nindividualization.\n\nActors claim the title of artists, and receive all the honours of an\nartistic profession. According to our modern ideas, no taint of any\nsort, whether ethical or social, is implied in the fact of being a\ndramatic actor. This view is the right one. The profession demands\nconspicuous talent, intelligence, perseverance, energy, practice,\nknowledge, and, indeed, its highest attainment is impossible without\nthe rare qualities of genius. The actor has not only to assimilate\nprofoundly the spirit of the poet and the part he accepts, and to make\nhis own individuality conform entirely to the same, both inwardly and\noutwardly; he has, over and above this, in many respects to supplement\nthe part with his own creative insight, to fill in gaps, to discover\nmodes of transition, and generally, by his performance, to interpret\nthe poet by making visibly and vitally present and intelligible\nmeanings which lie beneath the surface, or the less obvious touches of\na master's hand.\n\n(_c_) _The Theatrical Art which is more Independent of Poetical\nComposition_\n\nFinally, we shall have that further, or _third_ aspect of the art in\nits actual employment, where it liberates itself from the exclusive\nprecedency of articulate poetry, and accepts as an independent end\nwhat was previously, to a more or less extent, a mere accompaniment\nor instrument, and elaborates the same on its own account. To carry\nout this emancipation, music and the dance are quite as much essential\nfeatures of the dramatic development as the art of the actor simply.\n\n(_\u03b1_) In respect to this change in the art, there are broadly speaking\ntwo systems. The first, according to which the performer tends to\nbe simply in spirit and body the living instrument of the poet, we\nhave already referred to. The French, who make much of professional\nr\u00f4les[23] and schools, and are, as a rule, more typical in their\ntheatrical representations, have shown an exceptional fidelity to this\nsystem in their tragedy and _haute com\u00e9die_. What we may define here\nas the position of the art of acting reversed consists in this, that\nthe entire creation of the poet now tends to be purely an appendage\nor frame to and for the natural endowment, technical ability, and\nart of the actor. It is by no means uncommon to hear actors make the\ndemand that poets should write expressly for them. The soul function\nof poetical composition is, in this view, to give the artist an\nopportunity to display and unfold in all its brilliance his emotional\npowers and art, to let us see the final outcome of his particular\nindividuality. Among the Italians, the _commedia dell' arte_ belongs\nto this type. Here, no doubt, we have certain definite types of\ncharacter such as those of the _arlecchino_, _dottore_, and the like,\nwith appropriate situations and series of scenes; the more detailed\nexecution is, however, almost entirely left to the discretion of the\nactors. Among ourselves, the dramatic pieces of Iffland and Kotzebue,\nand many others besides, though in large measure regarded as poetry,\nunimportant or even bad compositions, nevertheless offer such an\nopportunity for the creative powers of the actor, who is compelled to\ninitiate and shape something from such generally sketchy and artificial\nproductions, which on account of a vital and independent performance\nof this kind receives a unique interest exclusively united to one and\nno other artist. It is here, more especially, that we find our much\nbelauded realistic effects are displayed, a style carried to such\nlengths that a mere mumble and whisper of articulate speech, quite\nimpossible to follow, will pass as an admirable performance. In protest\nto such a style, Goethe translated Voltaire's \"Tancred\" and \"Mahomet\"\nfor the Weimar stage, in order to compel its actors to drop this\nvulgar naturalism, and accustom themselves to a more noble exposition.\nAnd this is invariably the case with the French, who, even in all\nthe animation of the farce, always keep the audience in view, and\nthroughout address themselves to it. As a matter of fact, mere realism\nand imitation of our everyday expression is as little exhaustive of\nthe real problem as the mere intelligibility and clever use made of\ncharacterization. If an actor seeks to produce a really artistic effect\nin such cases, he will have to extend his powers to a genial virtuosity\nsimilar to that I have described already in a previous passage when\nreferring to musical execution.[24]\n\n(_\u03b2_) A _second_ province belonging to the type under consideration\nis that of the modern _opera_, in the direction, at least, which\nit more and more is inclined to take. In other words, although in\nopera, generally speaking, the music is of most importance, which of\ncourse possesses a content in partnership with the poetry and the\nlibretto, albeit it treats and executes the same freely as it thinks\nbest, yet in more recent times, and particularly among ourselves,\nit has become increasingly an affair of luxurious display. It has\ncarried its _accessoires_, in the splendour of its decorations, the\npomp of its costumes, the completeness of its choruses and their\ngrouping, to a degree of independence that throws all else into the\nshade. It was a magnificence of this kind, sufficiently criticized\namong ourselves, which Cicero long ago complains of when referring\nto Roman tragedy. In tragedy, where the poetry is always the most\nessential thing, such a lavish display of the sensuous side of things\nis no doubt not in its right place, although Schiller, in his \"Maid\nof Orleans,\" shows a tendency here to run astray. In the opera, on\nthe contrary, with its sensuous exuberance of song and the melodic,\nthundering chorus of voices and instruments, we may with more reason\nadmit such an emphasized charm of external embellishment and display.\nIf the decorations are splendid, then the groups and processions, to\ngive point to them, must be equally gorgeous, and everything else must\nbe adapted to the same scale. The subject most suited to a sensuous\nluxuriance of this kind, which, no doubt, is always some indication\nof the decline of genuine art, is that part of the entire performance\nwhich inclines to the wonderful, fantastic, or fairy tale. Mozart, in\nhis \"Magic Flute,\" has supplied us with an example which is not too\nextravagant, and is worked out on completely artistic lines. At the\nsame time, we may entirely exhaust all the arts of scenic display,\ncostume, instrumentation and the rest, but the fact remains that, if we\nare not really in earnest with that part of the content which concerns\nreal dramatic action, the impression upon us can be at the strongest\nmerely that of a perusal of the fairy-tale of \"The Thousand and One\nNights.\"\n\n(_\u03b3_) The same observations apply to the modern _Ballet_, which above\nall is most suited to fairy-land and miracle of all kinds. Here, too,\nwe note as one supreme feature, quite apart from the picturesque\nbeauty of the grouping and tableaux, the kaleidoscopic splendour and\nfascination of the decorations, costumes, and lighting, to an extent\nthat ordinary persons find themselves transported into a world in\nwhich common sense and the laws and pressure of our daily life vanish\naltogether. As a further aspect of these performances, connoisseurs\nin such subjects will go into ecstacies over the elaborately trained\ndexterity and virtuosity of legs, which is nowadays an essential\nfeature of the dance. If, however, any more spiritual significance is\nto flash athwart such mere physical agility, which we have reduced\nto the final ultimatum of senselessness and ideal poverty, we ought\nto have associated with the complete command over all the executive\ndifficulties implied a real measure and euphony of movement, a freedom\nand grace such as finds a response in the soul; and it is only very\nrarely that we do so. As a further element in association with the\ndance here, which stands in the place of the choruses and solos of\nthe opera, we find as real expression of action the Pantomime. This,\nhowever, in proportion as our modern dance has advanced in technical\ndexterity, has fallen from the rank which it once possessed, and,\nindeed, has so deteriorated that the very thing tends once more to drop\nout of the modern ballet altogether, which is alone able to lift the\nsame into the free domain of art.\n\n\n3. THE TYPES OF DRAMATIC POETRY AND THE PRINCIPAL PHASES OF THEIR\nHISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT.\n\n\nViewing for a moment the course of our present inquiry in retrospect,\nit will be seen that we have, _first,_ established the principle of\ndramatic poetry in its widest and more specific characteristics,\nand, further, in its relation to the general public. _Secondly_, we\ndeduced from the fact of the drama's presenting an action distinct and\nindependent in its actually visible development the conclusion that a\nfully complete sensuous reproduction is also essential, such as is for\nthe first time possible under artistic conditions in the theatrical\nperformance. In order that the action, however, may adapt itself to an\nexternal realization of this kind, it is necessary that both in poetic\nconception and detailed execution it should be absolutely definite\nand complete. This is only effected, our _third_ point, by resolving\ndramatic poetry into _particular types_, receiving their typical\ncharacter, which is in part one of opposition and also one of mediatory\nrelation to such opposition, from the distinction, in which not only\nthe end but also the characters, as also the conflict and entire result\nof the action, are manifested. The most important aspects emphasized\nby such distinction and subject to an historical development are those\npeculiar to tragedy and comedy respectively, as also the comparative\nvalue of either mode of composition. This inquiry in dramatic poetry is\nfor the first time so essentially important that it forms the basis of\nclassification for the different types.\n\nIn considering more closely the nature of these distinctions we shall\ndo well to discuss their subject-matter in the following order.\n\n_First_, we must define the general principle of tragedy, comedy, and\nthe so-called drama.\n\n_Secondly_, we must indicate the character of ancient and modern\ndramatic poetry, to the contrast between which the distinctive relation\nof the above-named types is referable in their historical development.\n\n_Thirdly_, we will attempt, in conclusion, to examine the concrete\nmodes, which these types, though mainly comedy and tragedy, are able to\nexhibit within the boundary of this opposition.\n\n(_a_) _The Principle of Tragedy, Comedy, and the Drama, or Social Play_\n\nThe essential basis of differentiation among the types of epic poetry\nis to be found in the distinction whether the essentially substantive\ndisplayed in the epic manner is expressed in its universality, or\nis communicated in the form of objective characters, exploits, and\nevents. In contrast to this, the classification of lyric poetry, in\nits series of varied modes of expression, is dependent upon the degree\nand specific form in which the content is assimilated in more or\nless stable consistency with the soul experience, according as such\ncontent asserts this intimate life. And, finally, dramatic poetry,\nwhich accepts as its centre of significance the collision of aims and\ncharacters, as also the necessary resolution of such a conflict, cannot\ndo otherwise than deduce the principle of its separate types from the\nrelation in which _individual persons_ are placed relatively to their\npurpose and its content. The definition of this relation is, in short,\nthe decisive factor in the determination of the particular mode of\ndramatic schism and the issue therefrom, and consequently presents\nthe essential type of the entire process in its animated and artistic\ndisplay. The fundamental points we have to examine in this connection\nare, speaking broadly, those phases or features in the process, the\nmediation of which constitutes the essential purport of every true\naction. Such are from one point of view the substantively sound and\ngreat, the fundamental stratum of the realized divine nature in the\nworld, regarded here as the genuine and essentially eternal content\nof individual character and end. And, on its other side, we have the\n_personal conscious life_ simply as such in its unhampered power of\nself-determination and freedom. Without doubt, essential and explicit\ntruth is asserted in dramatic poetry; it matters not in what form it\nmay be manifested from time to time in human action. The specific type,\nhowever, within which this activity is made visible receives a distinct\nor, rather, actually opposed configuration, according as the aspect\nof substantive worth or in its opposition thereto, that of individual\ncaprice, folly, and perversity is retained as the distinctive _modus_\nof operation either in individuals, actions, or conflicts.\n\nWe have therefore to consider the principle in its distinctive relation\nto the following types:\n\n_First_, as associated with tragedy in its substantive and primitive\nform.\n\n_Secondly_, in its relation to comedy, in which the life of the\nindividual soul as such in volition and action, as well as the external\nfactor of contingency, are predominant over all relations and ends.\n\n_Thirdly_, in that to the drama, the theatrical piece in the more\nrestricted use of the term, regarding such as the middle term between\nthe two first-mentioned types.\n\n(_\u03b1_) With respect to _tragedy_, I will here confine myself to a\nconsideration of only the most general and essential characteristics,\nthe more concrete differentiation of which can only be made clear by\na review of the distinctive features implied in the stages of its\nhistorical process.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The genuine content of tragic action subject to the _aims_ which\narrest tragic characters is supplied by the world of those forces\nwhich carry in themselves their own justification, and are realized\nsubstantively in the volitional activity of mankind. Such are the love\nof husband and wife, of parents, children, and kinsfolk. Such are,\nfurther, the life of communities, the patriotism of citizens, the will\nof those in supreme power. Such are the life of churches, not, however,\nif regarded as a piety which submits to act with resignation, or as a\ndivine judicial declaration in the heart of mankind over what is good\nor the reverse in action; but, on the contrary, conceived as the active\nengagement with and demand for veritable interests and relations.\nIt is of a soundness and thoroughness consonant with these that the\nreally tragical _characters_ consist. They are throughout that which\nthe essential notion of their character enables them and compels them\nto be. They are not merely a varied totality laid out in the series\nof views of it proper to the epic manner; they are, while no doubt\nremaining also essentially vital and individual, still only the one\npower of the particular character in question, the force in which such\na character, in virtue of its essential personality, has made itself\ninseparably coalesce with some particular aspect of the capital and\nsubstantive life-content we have indicated above, and deliberately\ncommits himself to that. It is at some such elevation, where the mere\naccidents of unmediated[25] individuality vanish altogether, that we\nfind the tragic heroes of dramatic art, whether they be the living\nrepresentatives of such spheres of concrete life or in any other way\nalready so derive their greatness and stability from their own free\nself-reliance that they stand forth as works of sculpture, and as such\ninterpret, too, under this aspect the essentially more abstract statues\nand figures of gods, as also the lofty tragic characters of the Greeks\nmore completely than is possible for any other kind of elucidation or\ncommentary.\n\nBroadly speaking, we may, therefore, affirm that the true theme of\nprimitive tragedy is the godlike.[26] But by godlike we do not mean\nthe Divine, as implied in the content of the religious consciousness\nsimply as such, but rather as it enters into the world, into\nindividual action, and enters in such a way that it does not forfeit\nits substantive character under this mode of realization, nor find\nitself converted into the contradiction of its own substance.[27] In\nthis form the spiritual substance of volition and accomplishment is\nethical life.[28] For what is ethical, if we grasp it, in its direct\nconsistency--that is to say, not exclusively from the standpoint of\npersonal reflection as formal morality--is the divine in its secular or\nworld realization, the substantive as such, the particular no less than\nthe essential features of which supply the changing content of truly\nhuman actions, and in such action itself render this their essence\nexplicit and actual.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) These ethical forces, as also the characters of the action,\nare _distinctively defined_ in respect to their content and their\nindividual personality, in virtue of the principle of differentiation\nto which everything is subject, which forms part of the objective world\nof things. If, then, these particular forces, in the way presupposed\nby dramatic poetry, are attached to the external expression of human\nactivity, and are realized as the determinate aim of a human pathos\nwhich passes into action, their concordancy is cancelled, and they are\nasserted _in contrast_ to each other in interchangeable succession.\nIndividual action will then, under given conditions, realize an object\nor character, which, under such a presupposed state, inevitably\nstimulates the presence of a pathos[29] opposed to itself, because it\noccupies a position of unique isolation in virtue of its independently\nfixed definition, and, by doing so, brings in its train unavoidable\nconflicts. Primitive tragedy, then, consists in this, that within a\ncollision of this kind both sides of the contradiction, if taken by\nthemselves, are _justified_; yet, from a further point of view, they\ntend to carry into effect the true and positive content of their end\nand specific characterization merely as the negation and _violation_ of\nthe other equally legitimate power, and consequently in their ethical\npurport and relatively to this so far fall under _condemnation._\n\nI have already adverted to the general ground of the necessity of\nthis conflict. The substance of ethical condition is, when viewed\nas concrete unity, a totality of _different_ relations and forces,\nwhich, however, only under the inactive condition of the gods in\ntheir blessedness achieve the works of the Spirit in enjoyment of\nan undisturbed life. In contrast to this, however, there is no less\ncertainly implied in the notion of this totality itself an impulse\nto move from its, in the first instance, still abstract ideality,\nand transplant itself in the real actuality of the phenomenal world.\nOn account of the nature of this primitive obsession,[30] it comes\nabout that mere difference, if conceived on the basis of definite\nconditions of individual personalities, must inevitably associate with\ncontradiction and collision. Only such a view can pretend to deal\nseriously with those gods which, though they endure in their tranquil\nrepose and unity in the Olympus and heaven of imagination and religious\nconception, yet, in so far as they are actual,[31] viewed at least as\nthe energic in the definite pathos of a human personality, participate\nin concrete life, all other claims notwithstanding, and, in virtue of\ntheir specific singularity and their mutual opposition, render both\nblame and wrong inevitable.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) As a result of this, however, an unmediated contradiction is\nposited, which no doubt may assert itself in the Real, but, for all\nthat, is unable to maintain itself as that which is wholly substantive\nand verily real therein; which rather discovers, and only discovers,\nits essential justification in the fact that it is able to _annul_\nitself as such contradiction. In other words, whatever may be the\nclaim of the tragic final purpose and personality, whatever may be\nthe necessity of the tragic collision, it is, as a consequence of our\npresent view, no less a claim that is asserted--this is our _third_\nand last point--by the tragic resolution of this division. It is\nthrough _this_ latter result that Eternal Justice is operative in such\naims and individuals under a mode whereby it restores the ethical\nsubstance and unity in and along with the downfall of the individuality\nwhich disturbs its repose. For, despite the fact that individual\ncharacters propose that which is itself essentially valid, yet they\nare only able to carry it out under the tragic demand in a manner that\nimplies contradiction and with a onesidedness which is injurious.\nWhat, however, is substantive in truth, and the function of which\nis to secure realization, is not the battle of particular unities,\nhowever much such a conflict is essentially involved in the notion\nof a real world and human action; rather it is the reconciliation in\nwhich definite ends and individuals unite in harmonious action without\nmutual violation and contradiction. That which is abrogated in the\ntragic issue is merely the _one-sided_ particularity which was unable\nto accommodate itself to this harmony, and consequently in the tragic\ncourse of its action, through inability to disengage itself from\nitself and its designs, either is committed in its entire totality\nto destruction or at least finds itself compelled to fall back upon\na state of resignation in the execution of its aim in so far as it\ncan carry this out. We are reminded of the famous dictum of Aristotle\nthat the true effect of tragedy is to excite and purify _fear_ and\n_pity._ By this statement Aristotle did not mean merely the concordant\nor discordant feeling with anybody's private experience, a feeling\nsimply of pleasure or the reverse, an attraction or a repulsion, that\nmost superficial of all psychological states, which only in recent\ntimes theorists have sought to identify with the principle of assent\nor dissent as ordinarily expressed. For in a work of art the matter of\nexclusive importance should be the display of that which is conformable\nwith the reason and truth of Spirit; and to discover the principle\nof this we have to direct our attention to wholly different points\nof view. And consequently we are not justified in restricting the\napplication of this dictum of Aristotle merely to the emotion of fear\nand pity, but should relate it to the principle of the _content_ the\nappropriately artistic display of which ought to purify such feelings.\nMan may, on the one hand, entertain fear when confronted with that\nwhich is outside him and finite; but he may likewise shrink before the\npower of that which is the essential and absolute subsistency of social\nphenomena.[32] That which mankind has therefore in truth to fear is\nnot the external power and its oppression, but the ethical might which\nis self-defined in its own free rationality, and partakes further of\nthe eternal and inviolable, the power a man summons against his own\nbeing when he turns his back upon it. And just as fear may have two\nobjectives, so also too compassion. The first is just the ordinary\nsensibility--in other words, a sympathy with the misfortunes and\nsufferings of another, and one which is experienced as something finite\nand negative. Your countrified cousin is ready enough with compassion\nof this order. The man of nobility and greatness, however, has no wish\nto be smothered with this sort of pity. For just to the extent that\nit is merely the nugatory aspect, the negative of misfortune which is\nasserted, a real depreciation of misfortune is implied. True sympathy,\non the contrary, is an accordant feeling with the ethical claim at\nthe same time associated with the sufferer--that is, with what is\nnecessarily implied in his condition as affirmative and substantive.\nSuch a pity as this is not, of course, excited by ragamuffins and\nvagabonds. If the tragic character, therefore, just as he aroused our\nfear when contemplating the might of violated morality, is to awake a\ntragic sympathy in his misfortune, he must himself essentially possess\nreal capacity and downright character. It is only that which has a\ngenuine content which strikes the heart of a man of noble feeling, and\nrings through its depths. Consequently we ought by no means to identify\nour interest in the tragic _d\u00e9nouement_ with the simple satisfaction\nthat a sad story, a misfortune merely as misfortune, should have a\nclaim upon our sympathy. Feelings of lament of this type may well\nenough assail men on occasions of wholly external contingency and\nrelated circumstance, to which the individual does not contribute, nor\nfor which he is responsible, such cases as illness, loss of property,\ndeath, and the like. The only real and absorbing interest in such\ncases ought to be an eager desire to afford immediate assistance. If\nthis is impossible, such pictures of lamentation and misery merely\nrack the feelings. A veritable tragic suffering, on the contrary, is\nsuspended over active characters entirely as the consequence of their\nown act, which as such not only asserts its claim upon us, but becomes\nsubject to blame through the collision it involves, and in which such\nindividuals identify themselves heart and soul.\n\nOver and above mere fear and tragic sympathy we have therefore the\nfeeling of _reconciliation_, which tragedy is vouched for in virtue of\nits vision of eternal justice, a justice which exercises a paramount\nforce of absolute constringency on account of the relative claim of all\nmerely contracted aims and passions; and it can do this for the reason\nthat it is unable to tolerate the victorious issue and continuance in\nthe truth of the objective world of such a conflict with and opposition\nto those ethical powers which are fundamentally and essentially\nconcordant.[33] Inasmuch as then, in conformity with this principle,\nall that pertains to tragedy pre-eminently rests upon the contemplation\nof such a conflict and its resolution, dramatic poetry is--and its\nentire mode of presentation offers a proof of the fact--alone able to\nmake and completely adapt its form throughout its entire course and\ncompass to the principle of the art product. And this is the reason\nwhy I have only now found occasion to discuss the tragic mode of\npresentation, although it extends an effective force, if no doubt one\nof subordinate degree, in many ways over the other arts.\n\n(_\u03b2_) In tragedy then that which is eternally substantive is\ntriumphantly vindicated under the mode of reconciliation. It simply\nremoves from the contentions of personality the false one-sidedness,\nand exhibits instead that which is the object of its volition, namely,\npositive reality, no longer under an asserted mediation of opposed\nfactors, but as the real support of consistency.[34] And in contrast to\nthis in _comedy_ it is the purely _personal experience_, which retains\nthe mastery in its character of infinite self-assuredness.[35] And it\nis only these two fundamental aspects of human action which occupy a\nposition of contrast in the classification of dramatic poetry into its\nseveral types. In tragedy individuals are thrown into confusion in\nvirtue of the abstract nature of their sterling volition and character,\nor they are forced to accept that with resignation, to which they have\nbeen themselves essentially opposed. In comedy we have a vision of the\nvictory of the intrinsically assured stability of the wholly personal\nsoul-life, the laughter of which resolves everything through the medium\nand into the medium of such life.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) The general basis of comedy is therefore a world in which\nman has made himself, in his conscious activity, complete master of\nall that otherwise passes as the essential content of his knowledge\nand achievement; a world whose ends are consequently thrown awry on\nof their own lack of substance. A democratic folk, with egotistic\ncitizens, litigious, frivolous, conceited, without faith or knowledge,\nalways intent on gossip, boasting and vanity--such a folk is past\npraying for; it can only dissolve in its folly. But it would be a\nmistake to think that any action that is without genuine content is\ntherefore comic because it is void of substance. People only too\noften in this respect confound the merely _ridiculous_ with the true\ncomic. Every contrast between what is essential and its appearance,\nthe object and its instrument, may be ridiculous, a contradiction in\nvirtue of which the appearance is absolutely cancelled, and the end is\nstultified in its realization. A profounder significance is, however,\nimplied in the comic. There is, for instance, nothing comic in human\ncrime. The satire affords a proof of this, to the point of extreme\naridity, no matter how emphatic may be the colours in which it depicts\nthe condition of the actual world in its contrast to all that the man\nof virtue ought to be. There is nothing in mere folly, stupidity, or\nnonsense, which in itself necessarily partakes of the comic, though\nwe all of us are ready enough to laugh at it. And as a rule it is\nextraordinary what a variety of wholly different things excite human\nlaughter. Matters of the dullest description and in the worst possible\ntaste will move men in this way; and their laughter may be excited\nquite as much by things of the profoundest importance, if only they\nhappen to notice some entirely unimportant feature, which may conflict\nwith habit and ordinary experience. Laughter is consequently little\nmore than an expression of self-satisfied shrewdness; a sign that they\nhave sufficient wit to recognize such a contrast and are aware of\nthe fact. In the same way we have the laughter of the scoffer, the\nscornful and desperation itself. What on the other hand is inseparable\nfrom the comic is an infinite geniality and confidence[36] capable of\nrising superior to its own contradiction, and experiencing therein no\ntaint of bitterness or sense of misfortune whatever. It is the happy\nframe of mind, a hale condition of soul, which, fully aware of itself,\ncan suffer the dissolution of its aims and realization. The unexpansive\ntype of intelligence is on the contrary least master of itself where it\nis in its behaviour most laughable to others.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) In considering with more detail the kind of content which\ncharacterizes and educes the object of comic action, I propose to limit\nmyself to the following points of general interest.\n\nOn the _one_ hand there are human ends and characters essentially\ndevoid of substantive content and contradictory. They are therefore\nunable to achieve the former or give effect to the latter. Avarice,\nfor example, not only in reference to its aim, but also in respect\nto the petty means which it employs, is clearly from the first and\nfundamentally a vain shadow. It accepts what is the dead abstraction\nof wealth, money simply as such, as the _summum bonum_, the reality\nbeyond which it refuses to budge; and it endeavours to master this\nfrigid means of enjoyment by denying itself every other concrete\nsatisfaction, despite the fact too that, in the impotency of its\nend no less than the means of its achievement, it is helpless when\nconfronted with cunning and treachery, and the like. In such a case\nthen, if anyone identifies _seriously_ his personal life with a content\nso essentially false, to the extent of a man confining the embrace\nof his soul-life to that exclusively, and in the result, if the same\nis swept away as his foot-hold, the more he strives to retain that\nformer foot-hold, the more the life collapses in unhappiness--in such a\npicture as this what is most vital to the comic situation fails, as it\ndoes in every case where the predominant factors are simply on the one\nside the painfulness of the actual conditions, and on the other scorn\nand pleasure in such misfortune. There is therefore more of the true\ncomic in the case where, it is true, aims intrinsically mean and empty\nwould like to be achieved with an appearance of earnest solemnity and\nevery kind of preparation, but where the individual himself, when he\nfalls short of this, does not experience any real loss because he is\nconscious that what he strove after was really of no great importance,\nand is therefore able to rise superior with spontaneous amusement above\nthe failure.\n\nA situation which is the reverse of this occurs where people vaguely\ngrasp at aims and a personal impression of real substance, but in their\nown individuality, as instruments to achieve this, are in absolute\nconflict with such a result. In such a case what substance there is\nonly exists in the individual's imagination, becomes a mere appearance\nto himself or others, which no doubt offers the show and virtue of\nwhat is thus of material import, but for this very reason involves end\nand personality, action and character in a contradiction, by reason\nof which the attainment of the imaged end or characterization is\nitself rendered impossible. An example of this is the \"Ecclesiazusae\"\nof Aristophanes, where the women who seek to advise and found a new\npolitical constitution, retain all the temperament and passions of\nwomen as before.\n\nWe may add to the above two divisions of classification, as a distinct\nbasis for yet _another_, the use made of external accident, by means of\nthe varied and extraordinary development of which situations are placed\nbefore us in which the objects desired and their achievement, the\npersonal character and its external conditions are thrown into a comic\ncontrast, and lead to an equally comic resolution.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) But inasmuch as the comic element wholly and from the first\ndepends upon contradictory contrasts, not only of ends themselves\non their own account, but also of their content as opposed to the\ncontingency of the personal life and external condition, the action\nof comedy requires a _resolution_ with even more stringency than the\ntragic drama. In other words, in the action of comedy the contradiction\nbetween that which is essentially true and its specific realization is\nmore fundamentally asserted.\n\nThat which, however, is abrogated in this resolution is not by any\nmeans either the _substantive_ being or the _personal_ life as such.\n\nAnd the reason of this is that comedy too, viewed as genuine art, has\nnot the task set before it to display through its presentation what\nis essentially rational as that which is intrinsically perverse and\ncomes to naught, but on the contrary as that which neither bestows\nthe victory, nor ultimately allows any standing ground to folly and\nabsurdity, that is to say the false contradictions and oppositions\nwhich also form part of reality. The masculine art of Aristophanes,\nfor instance, does not turn into ridicule what is truly of ethical\nsignificance in the social life of Athens, namely genuine philosophy,\ntrue religious faith, but rather the spurious growth of the democracy,\nin which the ancient faith and the former morality have disappeared,\nsuch as the sophistry, the whining and querulousness of tragedy, the\ninconstant gossip, the love of litigation and so forth; in other\nwords, it is those elements directly opposed to a genuine condition of\npolitical life, religion and art, which he places before us in their\nsuicidal folly. Only in more modern times do we find in such a writer\nas Kotzebue the baseness possible which throws over moral excellence,\nand spares and strives to maintain that which only exists under a\ncondition of sufferance. To as little extent, however, ought the\nindividual's private life suffer substantial injury in comedy. Or to\nput it otherwise, if it is merely the appearance and imagined presence\nof what is substantive, or if it is the essentially perverse and petty\nwhich is asserted, yet in the essential self stability of individual\ncharacter the more exalted principle remains, which in its freedom\nreaches over and beyond the overthrow of all that such finite life\ncomprises, and continues itself in its character of self-security and\nself-blessedness. This subjective life that we above all identify with\ncomic personality has thus become master of all the phenomenal presence\nof the real. The mode of actual appearance adequate to what is, so to\nspeak, substantive, has vanished out of it; and, if what is essentially\nwithout fundamental subsistence comes to naught with its mere pretence\nof being that which it is not, the individual asserts himself as master\nover such a dissolution, and remains at bottom unbroken and in good\nheart to the end.[37]\n\n(_\u03b3_) Midway between tragedy and comedy we have furthermore a _third_\nfundamental type of dramatic poetry, which is, however, of less\ndistinctive importance, despite the fact that in it the essential\ndifference between what is tragic and comic makes an effort to\nconstruct a bridge of mediation, or at least to effect some coalescence\nof both sides in a concrete whole without leaving either the one or the\nother in opposed isolation.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) To this class we may, for example, refer the _Satyric_ drama of\nthe ancients, in which the principal action itself at least remains of\na serious if not wholly tragic type, while the chorus of its Satyrs is\nin contrast to this treated in the comic manner. We may also include\nin such a class the tragic-comedy. Plautus gives an example of this in\nhis \"Amphitryo,\" and indeed in the prologue, through verses given to\nMercury, asserts this fact; the declamation runs as follows:\n\n\n    Quid contraxistis frontem? Quia Tragoediam\n    Dini futuram hanc? Deus sum: commutavero\n    Eamdem hanc, si voltis: faciam, ex Tragoedia\n    Comoedia ut sit, omnibus eisdem versibus.\n    Faciam ut conmista sit Tragicocomoedia.\n\n\nHe offers us as a reason for this intermixture the fact, that while\ngods and kings are represented among the _dramatis personae_, we have\nalso in comic contrast to this the figure of the slave Sofia. With\nyet more frequency in modern dramatic poetry we have the interplay of\ntragic and comic situation; and this is naturally so, because in modern\ncompositions the principle of an intimate personal life has its place\ntoo in tragedy, the principle which is asserted by comedy in all its\nfreedom, and from the first has been predominant, forcing as it does\ninto the background the substantive character of the content in which\nthe ethical forces, I have referred to previously, are paramount.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) The profounder mediation, however, of tragic and comic\ncomposition in a new whole does not consist in the juxtaposition or\nalteration of these contradictory points of view, but in a mutual\naccommodation, which blunts the force of such opposition. The element\nof subjectivity, instead of being exercised with all the perversity\nof the comic drama, is steeped in the seriousness of genuine social\nconditions and substantial characters, while the tragic steadfastness\nof volition and the depth of collisions is so far weakened and reduced\nthat it becomes compatible with a reconciliation of interests and a\nharmonious union of ends and individuals. It is under such a mode of\nconception that in particular the modern play and drama arise. The\nprofound aspect of this principle, in this view of the playwright,\nconsists in the fact that, despite the differences and conflicts\nof interests, passions and characters, an essentially harmonious\nreality none the less results from human action. Even the ancient\nworld possesses tragedies, which accept an issue of this character.\nIndividuals are not sacrificed, but maintained without serious\ncatastrophe. In the \"Eumenides\" of \u00c6schylus, for example, both parties\nthere brought to judgment before the Areopagus, namely Apollo and\nthe avenging Furies, have their claims to honorable consideration\nvindicated. Also in the \"Philoctetes\" the conflict between Neoptolemos\nand Philoctetes is disposed of through the divine interposition of\nHercules and the advice he gives. They depart reconciled for Troy. In\nthis case, however, the accommodation is due to a _deus ex machin\u00e2_ and\nthe actual source of such is not traceable to the personal attitude\nof the parties themselves. In the modern play, however, it is the\nindividual characters alone who find themselves induced by the course\nof their own action to such an abandonment of the strife, and to a\nreciprocal reconciliation of their aims and personalities. From this\npoint of view the \"Iphigeneia\" of Goethe is a genuine model of a play\nof this kind, and it is more so than his \"Tasso,\" in which in the\nfirst place the reconciliation with Antonio is rather an affair of\ntemperament and personal acknowledgment that Antonio possesses the\ngenuine knowledge of life, which is absent from the character of Tasso,\nand along with this that the claim of ideal life, which Tasso had\nrigidly adhered to in its conflict with actual conditions, adaptability\nand grace of manners, retains its force throughout with an audience\nmerely in an ideal sense, and relatively to actual conditions at most\nasserts itself as an excuse for the poet and a general sympathy for his\nposition.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) As a rule, however, the boundary lines of their intermediate\ntype fluctuate more than is the case with tragedy or comedy. It is\nalso exposed to a further danger of breaking away from the true\ndramatic type, or ceasing to be genuine poetry. In other words, owing\nto the fact that the opposing factors, which have to secure a peaceful\nconclusion from out of their own division, are from the start not\nantithetical to one another with the emphasis asserted by tragedy;\nthe poet is for this reason compelled to devote the full strength\nof his presentation to the psychological analysis of character,\nand to make the course of the situations a mere instrument of such\ncharacterization. Or, as an alternative, he admits a too extensive\nfield for the display of the material aspect of historical or ethical\nconditions; and, under the pressure of such material, he tends to\nrestrict his effort to keep the attention alive to the interest of\nthe series of events evolved alone. To this class of composition we\nmay assign a host of our more recent theatrical pieces, which rather\naim at theatrical effect than claim to be poetry. They do not so\nmuch seek to affect us as genuine poetical productions as to reach\nour emotions generally as men and women; or they aim on the one hand\nsimply at recreation, and on the other at the moral education of public\ntaste; but while doing so they are almost equally concerned to provide\nample opportunity to the actor for the display of his trained art and\nvirtuosity in the most brilliant manner.\n\n(_b_) _The Difference between Ancient and Modern Dramatic Poetry_\n\nThe same principle which offered us a basis for the classification of\ndramatic art into tragedy and comedy also will give us the essential\npoints of arrest in the history of their development. The progress we\nfind in this course of evolution can only appear after we have placed\nsuch particular phases in the process side by side for comparison and\nanalysis. They subsist, in short, in the notion of dramatic action,\nwith the result that on the one hand the entire composition and its\ntheatrical execution emphasizes what is _substantive_ in the ends,\nconflicts, and characters, and on the other that the _personal_\nfactor of conscious and individual life constitutes the focal centre\nthroughout.\n\n(_\u03b1_) With regard to such an inquiry we may at once in the present\nwork, which does not attempt to include an exhaustive history of art,\nleave out altogether those origins of dramatic art which we find\namong Oriental peoples. Despite the considerable progress made by\nEastern poetry in the epic and certain types of lyrical composition\nthe entire world-outlook of such peoples nevertheless from the first\nexcludes an artistic development favourable to dramatic art. And the\nreason is that to genuine _tragic_ action it is essential that the\nprinciple of _individual_ freedom and independence, or at least that\nof self-determination, the will to find in the self the free cause\nand source of the personal act and its consequences, should already\nhave been aroused; and we may observe that to a still more emphatic\ndegree is this free claim of the personal life and its self-recognized\n_imperium_ a necessary condition to the appearance of comedy. In the\nEast we find in neither case such a condition satisfied. In particular\nremoteness from any and every attempt at real dramatic self-expression\nis that imposing sublimity of Mohammedan poetry, although from a\ncertain point of view it is capable with real power of vindicating the\nclaim of individual independence. But it necessarily fails, because\nit is an equally essential assumption of it that the One substantive\nPower overrules every created being and determines his irreversible\ndestiny, and with all the more irresistible fatality in proportion as\nsuch a spirit is asserted. The justification of a particular content\nof individual action and of a personal life which explores its own\nmost intimate substance, in the sense that dramatic art presupposes,\nis here impossible; indeed it is precisely in Mohammedanism that the\nsubjugation of the individual self to the will of God is the more\nabstract in proportion as the One predominant Power, who rules the\nuniverse, is more abstractly conceived in his universality, and in the\nlast instance will not tolerate one shred of particularity to remain.\nWe consequently only find origins of dramatic composition among the\nChinese and Hindoos. But here, too, so far as our present scanty\nevidence carries us, these do not so much amount to the execution of\nany free and individual action; they merely reflect the animated life\nof events and emotions under the mode of definite situations, which are\ndisplayed in their course as they actually happen.\n\n(_\u03b2_) The true beginning of dramatic poetry we have consequently to\nseek among the Hellenes, with whom for the first time and in every\nrespect the principle of free individuality renders the perfect\nelaboration of the classic type of art possible. Compatibly with\nthis type of art, however, and in its relation to human action,\nindividuality is only so far asserted as it directly demands the\nfree animation of the essential content of human aims. That which\npre-eminently is of valid force in ancient drama, therefore, whether\nit be tragedy or comedy, is the universal and essential content of\nthe end, which individuals seek to achieve. In tragedy this is the\nethical claim of human consciousness in view of the particular action\nin question, the vindication of the act on its own account. And in the\nold comedy, too, it is in the same way at least the general public\ninterests which are emphasized, whether it be in statesmen and the\nmode in which they direct the State, questions of peace or war, the\ngeneral public and its moral conditions, or the condition of philosophy\nand its decline. And it is owing to this that here neither the varied\nexposition of personal soul-life and exceptional character, nor the\nequally exceptional plot and intrigue can obtain the fullest play, nor\ndoes the main interest revolve so much around the fate of individuals.\nIn the place of this interest for such particular aspects of the\ndrama above all else sympathy is evoked and claimed for the simple\nconflict and issue of the essential powers of life, and for the godlike\nmanifestations of the human heart,[38] as distinctive representatives\nof which the heroes of tragedy are set before us in much the same\nway as that in which the figures of comedy make visible the general\nperversity of mankind, to the expression of which, in the reality of\nthe actual present, even the fundamental institutions of public life\nhave been corrupted.\n\n(_\u03b3_) In _modern_ romantic poetry, on the contrary, it is the\nindividual passion, the satisfaction of which can only be relative to a\nwholly personal end, generally speaking the destiny of some particular\nperson or character placed under exceptional circumstances, which forms\nthe subject-matter of all importance.\n\nFrom such a point of view the poetic interest consists in that\ngreatness of characters, which, in virtue of their imaginative power or\ntheir disposition and talents, display a spiritual[39] elevation over\ntheir situations and actions no less than over the entire wealth of\ntheir soul-life, and show it as the real substance of political forces,\nthough often, too, these may be obstructed and, indeed, annihilated in\nthe stress of particular circumstances and the current of events; and\nwe may add that in the greatness of such natures it is not infrequent\nto find that a power of recovery[40] is further contained. With regard\nto the particular content of the action in this style of composition\nit is not therefore the ethical vindication and necessity, but rather\nthe isolated individual and his conditions to which our interest is\ndirected. From a standpoint such as this, therefore, a fundamental\nmotive will arise in such qualities as love and ambition; indeed, crime\nitself is not excluded. But in the latter case we may easily find\nrocks ahead difficult indeed to clear. For an out and out criminal,\nand irrevocably so when he is weak and a thoroughly mean scamp, as\nis the hero in Milliner's drama, \"Crime,\" is something more than a\nsorry sight. What we require therefore above all in such cases is at\nleast the formal[41] greatness of character and power of the personal\nlife which is able to ride out everything that negates it, and which,\nwithout denial of its acts or, indeed, without being materially\ndiscomposed by them, is capable of accepting their consequences.\nAnd on the other side we find that those substantive ends, such as\npatriotism, family devotion, loyalty, and the rest, are by no means to\nbe excluded, although for the individual persons concerned the main\nquestion of importance is not so much the substantive force as their\nown individuality. But in such cases as a rule they rather form the\nparticular ground upon which such persons, viewed in the light of their\nprivate character, take their stand and engage in conflict, rather than\nhave supplied what we may regard as the real and ultimate content of\ntheir volition and action.\n\nAnd further, in conjunction with a personal self-assertion of this type\nwe may have presented the full extension of individual idiosyncrasy,\nnot merely in respect to the soul-life simply, but also in relation\nto external circumstances and conditions, within which the action\nproceeds. And it is owing to this that in distinctive form the simple\nconflicts which characterize more classical dramatic composition, we\nnow meet with the variety and exuberance of the characters dramatized,\nthe unforeseen surprises of the ever new and complicated developments\nof plot, the maze of intrigue, the contingency of events, and, in a\nword, all those aspects of the modern drama which claim our attention,\nand the unfettered appearance of which, as opposed to the overwhelming\nemphasis attached to what is essentially most fundamental in the\ncontent, accentuates the type of romantic art in its distinction from\nthe classic type.\n\nBut again, even in the cases above indicated, and despite all this\napparently untrammelled particularity, the whole ought to continue to\nbe both dramatic and poetical. In other words, on the one hand, the\nharshness of the collision, which has to be fought through, ought to\nbe visibly obliterated, and on the other, pre-eminently in tragedy,\nthe predominant presence of a more exalted order of the world, whether\nwe adopt the conception of Providence or Fatality, ought to plainly\ndiscover itself in and through the course and issue of the action.\n\n(_c_) _The Concrete Development of Dramatic Poetry and its Types_\n\nWithin the essential distinctions of conception and poetical\nachievement which we have just considered the different types of\ndramatic art assert themselves, and, for the first time in such\nassociation, and in so far as their development follows either one\nor the other direction, attain a really genuine completeness. We\nhave, therefore, in concluding the present work, still to concentrate\nour inquiry upon the concrete mode under which they receive such a\nconfiguration.\n\n(_\u03b1_) Excluding as we shall do for the reasons already given from\nour subject-matter the origins of such poetry in Oriental literature,\nthe material of first and fundamental importance which engages our\nattention, as the most valuable phase of genuine tragedy no less than\ncomedy, is the dramatic poetry of the _Greeks._ In other words, in\nit for the first time we find the human consciousness is illuminated\nwith that which in its general terms the tragic and comic situation\nessentially is; and after that these opposed types of dramatic outlook\nupon human action have been securely and beyond all confusion separated\nfrom each other, we mark first in order tragedy, and after that comedy,\nrise in organic development to the height of their achievement. Of\nsuch a successful result the dramatic art of Rome merely returns a\nconsiderably attenuated reflection, which does not indeed reach the\npoint secured by the similar effort of Roman literature in epic and\nlyrical composition. In my examination of the material thus offered my\nobject will be merely to accentuate what is most important, and I shall\ntherefore limit my survey to the tragic point of view of \u00c6schylus and\nSophocles, and to Aristophanes so far as comedy is concerned.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Taking, then, tragedy first, I have already stated that the\nfundamental type which determines its entire organization and structure\nis to be sought for in the emphasis attached to the substantive\nconstitution of final ends and their content, as also of the\nindividuals dramatized and their conflict and destiny.\n\nIn the tragic drama we are now considering, the general basis or\nbackground for tragic action is supplied, as was also the case in the\nEpos, by that world-condition which I have already indicated as the\n_heroic_. For only in heroic times, when the universal ethical forces\nhave neither acquired the independent stability of definite political\nlegislation or moral commands and obligations, can they be presented\nin their primitive jucundity as gods, who are either opposed to each\nother in their personal activities, or themselves appear as the\nanimated content of a free and human individuality. If, however, what\nis intrinsically ethical is to appear throughout as the substantive\nfoundation, the universal ground, shall we say, from which the growth\nof personal action arrests our attention with equal force in its\ndisunion, and is no less brought back again from such divided movement\ninto unity, we shall find that there are two distinct modes under which\nthe ethical content of human action is asserted.\n\n_First,_ we have the simple consciousness, which, in so far as it\nwills its substantive content[42] wholly as the unbroken identity of\nits particular aspects, remains in undisturbed, uncriticized, and\nneutral tranquillity on its own account and as related to others.\nThis undivided and, we may add, purely formal[43] state of mind in\nits veneration, its faith, and its happiness, however, is incapable\nof attaching itself to any definite action; it has a sort of dread\nbefore the disunion which is implied in such, although it does, while\nremaining itself incapable of action, esteem at the same time that\nspiritual courage which asserts itself resolutely and actively in a\nself-proposed object, as of nobler worth, yet is aware of its inability\nto undertake such enterprize, and consequently considers that it can\ndo nothing further for such active personalities, whom it respects so\nhighly, than contrast with the energy of their decision and conflict\nthe object of its own wisdom, in other words, the substantive ideality\nof the ethical Powers.\n\nThe _second_ mode under which this ethical content is asserted is that\nof the individual pathos,[44] which urges the active characters to\ntheir moral self-vindication into the opposition they occupy relatively\nto others, and brings them thereby into conflict. The individuals\nsubject to this pathos are neither what, in the modern use of the\nterm, we describe as characters, nor are they mere abstractions. They\nare rather placed in the vital midway sphere between both, standing\nthere as figures of real stability, which are simply that which they\nare, without aught of collision in themselves, without any fluctuating\nrecognition of some other pathos, and in so far--in this respect\na contrast to our modern irony--elevated, absolutely determinate\ncharacters, whose definition, however, discovers its content and\nbasis in a particular ethical power. Forasmuch as, then, the tragic\nsituation first appears in the _antagonism_ of individuals who are\nthus empowered to act, the same can only assert itself in the field\nof actual human life. It results from the specific character of this\nalone that a particular quality so affects the substantive content of\na given individual, that the latter identifies himself with his entire\ninterest and being in such a content, and penetrates it throughout with\nthe glow of passion. In the blessed gods, however, it is the divine\nNature, in its indifference, which is what is essential; in contrast\nto which we have the contradiction, which in the last instance is not\ntreated seriously, rather is one which, as I have already noticed\nwhen discussing the Homeric Epos, becomes eventually a self-resolving\nirony. These two modes or aspects--of which the one is as important\nfor the whole as the other--namely, the unsevered consciousness of\nthe godlike, and the combating human action, asserted, however, in\ngodlike power and deed, which determines and executes the ethical\npurpose--supply the two fundamental elements, the mediation of which is\ndisplayed by Greek tragedy in its artistic compositions under the form\nof _chorus_ and _heroic figures_ respectively.\n\nIn modern times, considerable discussion has been raised over the\nsignificance of the Greek chorus, and the question has been raised\nincidentally whether it can or ought to be introduced into modern\ntragedy. In fact, the need of some such substantial foundation has\nbeen experienced; but critics have found it difficult to prescribe\nthe precise manner in which effect should be given to such a change,\nbecause they failed to grasp with sufficient penetration the nature\nof that in which true tragedy consists and the necessity of the\nchorus as an essential constituent of all that Greek tragedy implies.\nCritics have, no doubt, recognized the nature of the chorus to the\nextent of maintaining that in it we find an attitude of tranquil\nmeditation over the whole, whereas the characters of the action remain\nwithin the limits of their particular objects and situations, and,\nin short, receive in the chorus and its observations a standard of\nvaluation of their characters and actions in much the same way as the\npublic discovers in it, and within the drama itself, an objective\nrepresentative of its own judgment upon all that is thus represented.\nIn this view we have to this extent the fact rightly conceived, that\nthe chorus is, in truth, there as a substantive and more enlightened\nintelligence, which warns us from irrelevant oppositions, and reflects\nupon the genuine issue. But, granting this to be so, it is by no\nmeans a wholly disinterested person, at leisure to entertain such\nthoughts and ethical judgments as it likes as are the spectators,\nwhich, uninteresting and tedious on its own account, could only be\nattached for the sake of such reflections. The chorus is the actual\nsubstance of the heroic life and action itself: it is, as contrasted\nwith the particular heroes, the common folk regarded as the fruitful\nheritage, out of which individuals, much as flowers and towering trees\nfrom their native soil, grow and whereby they are conditioned in this\nlife. Consequently, the chorus is peculiarly fitted to a view of life\nin which the obligations of State legislation and settled religious\ndogmas do not, as yet, act as a restrictive force in ethical and\nsocial development, but where morality only exists in its primitive\nform of directly animated human life, and it is merely the equilibrium\nof unmoved life which remains assured in its stability against the\nfearful collisions which the antagonistic energies of individual action\nproduces. We are made aware of the fact that an assured asylum of\nthis kind is also a part of our actual existence by the presence of\nthe chorus. It does not, therefore, practically co-operate with the\naction; it executes by its action no right as against the contending\nheroes; it merely expresses its judgment as a matter of opinion; it\nwarns, commiserates, or appeals to the divine law, and the ideal forces\nimminent in the soul, which the imagination grasps in external guise\nas the sphere of the gods that rule. In this self-expression it is, as\nwe have already seen, lyrical; for it does not act and there are no\nevents for it to narrate in epical form. The content, however, retains\nat the same time the epic character of substantive universality; and\nits lyric movement is of such a nature that it can, and in this respect\nin contrast to the form of the genuine ode, approach at times that of\nthe paean and the dithyramb. We must lay emphatic stress upon this\nposition of the chorus in Greek tragedy. Just as the theatre itself\npossesses its external ground, its scene and environment, so, too, the\nchorus, that is the general community, is the spiritual scene; and we\nmay compare it to the architectural temple which surrounds the image\nof the god, which resembles the heroes in the action. Among ourselves,\nstatues are placed under the open sky without such a background, which\nalso modern tragedy does not require, for the reason that its actions\ndo not depend on this substantive basis, but on the personal volition\nand personality, no less than the apparently external contingency of\nevents and circumstances.\n\nIn this respect it is an entirely false view which regards the chorus\nas an accidental piece of residuary baggage, a mere remnant from the\norigins of Greek drama. Of course, it is incontestable that its source\nis to be traced to the circumstance that, in the festivals of Bacchus,\nso far as the artistic aspect is concerned, the choral song was of most\nimportance until the introduction and interruption of its course by\none reciter, whose relation finally was transformed into and exalted\nby the real figures of dramatic action. In the blossoming season of\ntragedy, however, the chorus was not by any means merely retained in\nhonour of this particular phase of the festival and ritual of the god\nBacchus; rather it became continuously more elaborate in its beauty and\nharmonious measures by reason of the fact that its association with the\ndramatic action is essential and, indeed, so indispensable to it that\nthe decline of tragedy is intimately connected with the degeneration of\nthe choruses, which no longer remain an integral member of the whole,\nbut are degraded to a mere embellishment. In contrast to this, in\nromantic tragedy, the chorus is neither intrinsically appropriate nor\ndoes it appear to have originated from choric songs. On the contrary,\nthe content is here of a type which defeats from the first any attempt\nto introduce choruses as understood by Greek dramatists. For, even if\nwe go back to the most primitive of those so-called mysteries, morality\nplays and farces of a similar character, from which the romantic drama\nissued, we find that these present no action in that original Greek\nsense of the term, no outbreak, that is, of opposing forces from the\nundivided consciousness of life and the god-like. To as little extent\nis the chorus adapted to the conditions of chivalry and the dominion\nof kings, in so far as, in such cases, the attitude of the folk is one\nof mere obedience, or it is itself a party, involved together with the\ninterest of its fortune or misfortune in the course of the action. And\nin general the chorus entirely fails to secure its true position where\nthe main subject-matter consists of particular passions, ends, and\ncharacters, or any considerable opportunity is admitted to intrigue.\n\nIn contrast to the chorus, the _second_ fundamental feature of dramatic\ncomposition is that of the _individuals_ who act in _conflict_ with\neach other. In Greek tragedy it is not at all the bad will, crime,\nworthlessness, or mere misfortune, stupidity, and the like, which act\nas an incentive to such collisions, but rather, as I have frequently\nurged, the ethical right to a definite course of action.[45] Abstract\nevil neither possesses truth in itself, nor does it arouse interest.\nAt the same time, when we attribute ethical traits of characterization\nto the individuals of the action, these ought not to appear merely\nas a matter of opinion. It is rather implied in their right or claim\nthat they are actually there as essential on their own account. The\nhazards of crime, such as are present in modern drama--the useless, or\nquite as much the so-called noble criminal, with his empty talk about\nfate, we meet with in the tragedy of ancient literature, rarely, if at\nall, and for the good reason that the decision and deed depends on the\nwholly personal aspect of interest and character, upon lust for power,\nlove, honour, or other similar passions, whose justification has its\nroots exclusively in the particular inclination and individuality. A\nresolve of this character, whose claim is based upon the content of its\nobject, which it carries into execution in one restricted direction of\nparticularization, violates, under certain circumstances, which are\nalready essentially implied in the actual possibility of conflicts,\na further and equally ethical sphere of human volition, which the\ncharacter thus confronted adheres to, and, by his thus stimulated\naction, enforces, so that in this way the collision of powers and\nindividuals equally entitled to the ethical claim is completely set up\nin its movement.\n\nThe sphere of this content,[46] although capable of great variety of\ndetail, is not in its essential features very extensive. The principal\nsource of opposition, which Sophocles in particular, in this respect\nfollowing the lead of \u00c6schylus, has accepted and worked out in the\nfinest way, is that of the _body politic_, the opposition, that is,\nbetween ethical life in its social universality and the family as the\nnatural ground of moral relations. These are the purest forces of\ntragic representation. It is, in short, the harmony of these spheres\nand the concordant action within the bounds of their realized content,\nwhich constitute the perfected reality of the moral life. In this\nrespect I need only recall to recollection the \"Seven before Thebes\"\nof \u00c6schylus and, as a yet stronger illustration, the \"Antigone\" of\nSophocles. Antigone reverences the ties of blood-relationship, the\ngods of the nether world. Creon alone recognizes Zeus, the paramount\nPower of public life and the commonwealth. We come across a similar\nconflict in the \"Iphigeneia in Aulis,\" as also in the \"Agamemnon,\" the\n\"Choephorae,\" and \"Eumenides\" of \u00c6schylus, and in the \"Electra\" of\nSophocles. Agamemnon, as king and leader of his army, sacrifices his\ndaughter in the interest of the Greek folk and the Trojan expedition.\nHe shatters thereby the bond of love as between himself and his\ndaughter and wife, which Clytemnestra retains in the depths of a\nmother's heart, and in revenge prepares an ignominious death for her\nhusband on his return. Orestes, their son, respects his mother, but is\nbound to represent the right of his father, the king, and strikes dead\nthe mother who bore him.\n\nA content of this type retains its force through all times, and its\npresentation, despite all difference of nationality, vitally arrests\nour human and artistic sympathies.\n\nOf a more formal type is that second kind of essential collision,\nan illustration of which in the tragic story of \u0152dipus the Greek\ntragedians especially favoured. Of this Sophocles has left us the\nmost complete example in his \"\u0152dipus Rex,\" and \"\u0152dipus in Colonos.\"\nThe problem here is concerned with the claim of alertness in our\nintelligence, with the nature of the obligation[47] implied in that\nwhich a man carries out with a volition fully aware of its acts as\ncontrasted with that which he has done in fact, but unconscious of\nand with no intention of doing what he has done under the directing\nprovidence of the gods. \u0152dipus slays his father, marries his mother,\nbegets children in this incestuous alliance, and nevertheless is\ninvolved in these most terrible of crimes without active participation\neither in will or knowledge. The point of view of our profounder modern\nconsciousness of right and wrong would be to recognize that crimes of\nthis description, inasmuch as they were neither referable to a personal\nknowledge or volition, were not deeds for which the true personality of\nthe perpetrator was responsible. The plastic nature of the Greek on the\ncontrary adheres to the bare fact which an individual has achieved, and\nrefuses to face the division implied by the purely ideal attitude of\nthe soul in the self-conscious life on the one hand and the objective\nsignificance of the fact accomplished on the other.\n\nFor ourselves, to conclude this survey, other collisions, which either\nin general are related to the universally accepted association of\npersonal action to the Greek conception of Destiny, or in some measure\nto more exceptional conditions, are comparatively speaking less\nimportant.\n\nIn all these tragic conflicts, however, we must above all place on one\nside the false notion of _guilt_ or _innocence_. The heroes of tragedy\nare quite as much under one category as the other. If we accept the\nidea as valid that a man is guilty only in the case that a choice\nlay open to him, and he deliberately decided on the course of action\nwhich he carried out, then these plastic figures of ancient drama\nare guiltless. They act in accordance with a specific character, a\nspecific pathos, for the simple reason that they are this character,\nthis pathos. In such a case there is no lack of decision and no choice.\nThe strength of great characters consists precisely in this that they\ndo not choose, but are entirely and absolutely just that which they\nwill and achieve. They are simply themselves, and never anything else,\nand their greatness consists in that fact. Weakness in action, in\nother words, wholly consists in the division of the personal self as\nsuch from its content, so that character, volition and final purpose\ndo not appear as absolutely one unified growth; and inasmuch as no\nassured end lives in the soul as the very substance of the particular\npersonality, as the pathos and might of the individual's entire will,\nhe is still able to turn with indecision from this course to that, and\nhis final decision is that of caprice. A wavering attitude of this\ndescription is alien to these plastic creations. The bond between the\npsychological state of mind and the content of the will is for them\nindissoluble. That which stirs them to action is just in this very\npathos which implies an ethical justification and which, even in the\npathetic aspects of the dialogue, is not enforced in and through the\nmerely personal rhetoric of the heart and the sophistry of passion,\nbut in the equally masculine and cultivated objective presence, in\nthe profound possibilities, the harmony and vitally plastic beauty of\nwhich Sophocles was to a superlative degree master. At the same time,\nhowever, such a pathos, with its potential resources of collision,\nbrings in its train deeds that are both injurious and wrongful. They\nhave no desire to avoid the blame that results therefrom. On the\ncontrary, it is their fame to have done what they have done. One can in\nfact urge nothing more intolerable against a hero of this type than by\nsaying that he has acted innocently. It is a point of honour with such\ngreat characters that they are guilty. They have no desire to excite\npity or our sensibilities. For it is not the substantive, but rather\nthe wholly personal deepening[48] of the individual character, which\nstirs our individual pain. These securely strong characters, however,\ncoalesce entirely with their essential pathos, and this indivisible\naccord inspires wonder, but does not excite heart emotions. The drama\nof Euripides marks the transition to that.\n\nThe final result, then, of the development of tragedy conducts us\nto this issue and only this, namely, that the twofold vindication\nof the mutually conflicting aspects are no doubt retained, but the\n_onesided_ mode under which they were maintained is cancelled, and\nthe undisturbed ideal harmony brings back again that condition of\nthe chorus, which attributes without reserve equal honour to all\nthe gods. The true course of dramatic development consists in the\nannulment of _contradictions_ viewed as such, in the reconciliation\nof the forces of human action, which alternately strive to negate\neach other in their conflict. Only so far is misfortune and suffering\nnot the final issue, but rather the satisfaction of spirit, as for\nthe first time, in virtue of such a conclusion, the necessity of all\nthat particular individuals experience, is able to appear in complete\naccord with reason, and our emotional attitude is tranquillized on\na true ethical basis, rudely shaken by the calamitous result to the\nheroes, but reconciled in the substantial facts. And it is only in so\nfar as we retain such a view securely that we shall be in a position to\nunderstand ancient tragedy. We have to guard ourselves therefore from\nconcluding that a _d\u00e9nouement_ of this type is merely a moral issue\nconformably to which evil is punished and virtue rewarded, as indicated\nby the proverb that \"when crime turns to vomit, virtue sits down at\ntable.\" We have nothing to do here with this wholly personal aspect of\na self-reflecting personality and its conception of good and evil, but\nare concerned with the appearance of the affirmative reconciliation and\nwith the equal validity of both the powers engaged in actual conflict,\nwhen the collision actually took place. To as little extent is the\nnecessity of the issue a blind destiny, or in other words a purely\nirrational, unintelligible fate, identified with the classical world\nby many; rather it is the rationality of destiny, albeit it does not\nas yet appear as self-conscious Providence, the divine final end of\nwhich in conjunction with the world and individuals appears on its own\naccount and for others, depending as it does on just this fact that the\nhighest Power paramount over particular gods and mankind cannot suffer\nthis, namely, that the forces, which affirm their selfsubsistence\nin modes that are abstract or incomplete, and thereby overstep the\nboundary of their warrant, no less than the conflicts which result\nfrom them, should retain their self-stability. Fate drives personality\nback upon its limits, and shatters it, when it has grown overweening.\nAn irrational compulsion, however, an innocence of suffering would\nrather only excite indignation in the soul of the spectator than\nethical tranquillity. From a further point of view, therefore, the\nreconciliation of _tragedy_ is equally distinct from that of the\n_Epos._ If we look at either Achilles or Odysseus in this respect we\nobserve that both attain their object, and it is right that they do\nso; but it is not a continuous happiness with which they are favoured;\nthey have on the contrary to taste in its bitterness the feeling of\nfinite condition, and are forced to fight wearily through difficulties,\nlosses and sacrifices. It is in fact a universal demand of truth that\nin the course of life and all that takes place in the objective world\nthe nugatory character of finite conditions should compel attention. So\nno doubt the anger of Achilles is reconciled; he obtains from Agamemnon\nthat in respect of which he had suffered the sense of insult; he is\nrevenged upon Hector; the funeral rites of Patroclus are consummated,\nand the character of Achilles is acknowledged in all its glory. But his\nwrath and its reconciliation have for all that cost him his dearest\nfriend, the noble Patroclus; and, in order to avenge himself upon\nHector for this loss, he finds himself compelled to disengage himself\nfrom his anger, to enter once more the battle against the Trojans,\nand in the very moment when his glory is acknowledged receives the\nprevision of his early death. In a similar way Odysseus reaches Ithaca\nat last, the goal of his desire; but he does so alone and in his sleep,\nhaving lost all his companions, all the war-booty from Ilium, after\nlong years of endurance and fatigue. In this way both heroes have paid\ntheir toll to finite conditions and the claim of nemesis is evidenced\nin the destruction of Troy and the misfortunes of the Greek heroes.\nBut this nemesis is simply justice as conceived of old, which merely\nhumiliates what is everywhere too exalted, in order to establish\nonce more the abstract balance of fortune by the instrumentality of\nmisfortune, and which merely touches and affects finite existence\nwithout further ethical signification. And this is the justice of the\nEpic in the field of objective fact, the universal reconciliation\nof what is simply accommodation.[49] The higher conception of\nreconciliation in tragedy is on the contrary related to the resolution\nof specific ethical and substantive facts from their contradiction into\ntheir true harmony. The way in which such an accord is established is\nasserted under very different modes; I propose therefore merely to\ndirect attention to the fundamental features of the actual process\nherein involved.\n\n_Firsts_ we have particularly to emphasize the fact, that if it is\nthe onesidedness of the pathos which constitutes the real basis of\ncollisions this merely amounts to the statement that it is asserted in\nthe action of life, and therewith has become the unique pathos of a\nparticular individual. If this one-sidedness is to be abrogated then it\nis this individual which, to the extent that his action is exclusively\nidentified with this isolated pathos, must perforce be stripped and\nsacrificed. For the individual here is merely this single life, and,\nif this unity is not secured in its stability on its own account, the\nindividual is shattered.\n\nThe most complete form of this development is possible when the\nindividuals engaged in conflict relatively to their concrete or\nobjective life appear in each case essentially involved in one whole,\nso that they stand fundamentally under the power of that against which\nthey battle, and consequently infringe that, which, conformably to\ntheir own essential life, they ought to respect. Antigone, for example,\nlives under the political authority of Creon; she is herself the\ndaughter of a king and the affianced of Haemon, so that her obedience\nto the royal prerogative is an obligation. But Creon also, who is\non his part father and husband, is under obligation to respect the\nsacred ties of relationship, and only by breach of this can give an\norder that is in conflict with such a sense. In consequence of this\nwe find immanent in the life of both that which each respectively\ncombats, and they are seized and broken by that very bond which is\nrooted in the compass of their own social existence. Antigone is put\nto death before she can enjoy what she looks forward to as bride, and\nCreon too is punished in the fatal end of his son and wife, who commit\nsuicide, the former on account of Antigone's death, and the latter\nowing to Haemon's. Among all the fine creations of the ancient and the\nmodern world--and I am acquainted with pretty nearly everything in\nsuch a class, and one ought to know it, and it is quite possible--the\n\"Antigone\" of Sophocles is from this point of view in my judgment the\nmost excellent and satisfying work of art.\n\nThe tragic issue does not, however, require in every case as a means\nof removing both over-emphasized aspects and the equal honour which\nthey respectively claim the downfall of the contestant parties. The\n\"Eumenides\" does not end, as we all know, with the death of Orestes,\nor the destruction of the Eumenides, these avenging spirits of\nmatricide and filial affection, these opponents of Apollo, who seeks\nto protect unimpaired the worth of and reverence for the family chief\nand king, the god who had prompted Orestes to slay Clytaemnestra, but\nwill have Orestes released from the punishment and honour bestowed\non both himself and the Furies. At the same time we cannot fail to\nsee in this adjusted conclusion the nature of the authority which\nthe Greeks attached to their gods when they presented them as mere\nindividuals contending with each other. They appear, in short, to\nthe Athenian of everyday life merely as definite aspects of ethical\nexperience which the principles of morality viewed in their complete\nand harmonious coherence bind together. The votes of the Areopagus are\nequal on either side. It is Athene, the goddess, the life of Athens,\nthat is, imagined in its essential unity, who adds the white pebble,\nwho frees Orestes, and at the same time promises altars and a cult\nto the Eumenides no less than Apollo. As a contrast to this type of\nobjective reconciliation the settlement may be, _secondly_, of a more\npersonal character. In other words, the individual concerned in the\naction may in the last instance surrender his onesided point of view.\nIn this betrayal by personality of its essential pathos, however, it\ncannot fail to appear destitute of character; and this contradicts the\nmasculine integrity of such plastic figures. The individual, therefore,\ncan only submit to a higher Power and its counsel or command, to the\neffect that while on his own account he adheres to such a pathos, the\nwill is nevertheless broken in its bare obstinacy by a god's authority.\nIn such a case the knot is not loosened, but, as in the case of\nPhiloctetes, it is severed by a _deus ex machin\u00e2._\n\nBut as a _further_ and final class, and one more beautiful than the\nabove rather external mode of resolution we have the reconciliation\nmore properly of the soul itself, in which respect there is, in\nvirtue of the personal significance, a real approach to our modern\npoint of view. The most perfect example of this in ancient drama is\nto be found in the ever admirable \"\u0152dipus Coloneus\" of Sophocles. The\nprotagonist here has unwittingly slain his father, secured the sceptre\nof Thebes, and the bridal bed of his own mother. He is not rendered\nunhappy by these unwitting crimes; but the power of divination he has\nof old possessed makes him realize, despite himself, the darkness\nof the experience that confronts him, and he becomes fearfully, if\nindistinctly, aware of what his position is.[50] In this resolution of\nthe riddle in himself he resembles Adam, losing his happiness when he\nobtains the knowledge of good and evil. What he then does, the seer,\nis to blind himself, then abdicate the throne and depart from Thebes,\nvery much as Adam and Eve are driven from Paradise. From henceforward\nhe wanders about a helpless old man. Finally a god calls the terribly\nafflicted man to himself,[51] the man, that is, who refusing the\nrequest of his sons that he should return to Thebes, prefers to\nassociate with the Erinnys; the man, in short, who extinguishes all\nthe disruption in himself and who purifies himself in his own soul.\nHis blind eyes are made clear and bright, his limbs are healed, and\nbecome a treasure of the city which received him as a free guest. And\nthis illumination in death is for ourselves no less than for him the\nmore truly visible reconciliation which is worked out both in and for\nhimself as individual man, in and through, that is, his essential\ncharacter. Critics have endeavoured to discover here the temper of the\nChristian life; we are told we have here the picture of a sinner, whom\nGod receives into His grace; and the fateful misfortunes which expire\nin their finite condition, are made good with the seal of blessedness\nin death. The reconciliation of the Christian religion, however, is an\nillumination of the soul, which, bathed in the everlasting waters of\nsalvation, is raised above mortal life and its deeds. Here it is the\nheart itself, for in such a view the spiritual life can effect this,\nwhich buries that life and its deed in the grave of the heart itself,\ncounting the recriminations of earthly guilt as part and parcel of its\nown earthly individuality; and which, in the full assuredness of the\neternally pure and spiritual condition of blessedness, holds itself in\nitself calm and steadfast against such impeachment. The illumination of\n\u0152dipus, on the contrary, remains throughout, in consonance with ancient\nideas, the restoration of conscious life from the strife of ethical\npowers and violations to the renewed and harmonious unity of this\n_ethical content itself._[52]\n\nThere is a further feature in this type of reconciliation, however,\nand that is the _personal_ or ideal nature of the satisfaction. We may\ntake this as a point of transition to the otherwise to be contrasted\nprovince of _comedy_.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) That which is comic is, as we have already seen, in general\nterms the subjective or personal state, which forces and then\ndissolves the action which issues from it by its own effect into and\nin contradiction, remaining throughout and in virtue of this process\ntranquil in its own self-assurance. Comedy possesses, therefore,\nfor its basis and point of departure that with which it is possible\nfor tragedy to terminate, that is, a soul to the fullest extent and\neventually reconciled, a joyous state, which, however much it is\ninstrumental in the marring of its volitional power, and, indeed, in\nitself comes to grief, by reason of its asserting voluntarily what\nis in conflict with its aim, does not therefore lose its general\nequanimity. A personal self-assurance of this character, however is,\nfrom a further point of view, only possible in so far as the ends\nproposed, and withal the characters include nothing that is on its\nown account essentially substantive; or, if they do possess such an\nintrinsic worth, it is adopted and carried out intentionally under\na mode which is totally opposed to the genuine truth contained, in\na form, therefore, that is destitute of such truth, so that in this\nrespect, as in the previous case, it is merely that which is itself\nessentially of no intrinsic importance, but a matter of indifference\nwhich is marred, and the individual remains just as he was and\nunaffected.\n\nSuch a view is, too, in its general lines the conception of the old\nclassic comedy, in so far as tradition reflects it in the plays of\nAristophanes. We should, however, be careful to notice the distinction\nwhether the individuals in the play are aware that they are comic,\nor are so merely from the spectator's point of view. It is only the\nfirst class that we can reckon as part of the genuine comedy in which\nAristophanes was a master. Conformably to such a type a character is\nonly placed in a ridiculous situation, when we perceive that he himself\nis not serious in what is actually of such a quality in his purpose\nand voluntary effort, so that this constituent of either is throughout\nthe means of his own undoing, inasmuch as throughout such a character\nis unable to enter into any more noble and universally valid interest,\nwhich necessarily involves it in a situation of conflict;[53] and,\neven assuming that he does actually partake of it, merely does so in a\nway that shows a nature, which, in virtue of its practical existence,\nhas already annihilated that which it appears to strive to bring into\noperation, so that after all one sees such a coalescence has never been\nreally effected. The comic comes, therefore, rather into play among\nclasses of a lower social order in actual conditions of life, among\nmen who remain much as they are, and neither are able or desire to be\nanything else; who, while incapable of any genuine pathos, have no\ndoubt whatever as to what they are and do. At the same time the higher\nnature that is in them is asserted in this that they are not with any\nseriousness attached to the finite conditions which hem them in, but\nremain superior to the same and in themselves essentially steadfast and\nself-reliant against mishap and loss. This absolute freedom of spirit,\nwhich brings its own essential comfort from the first in all that a man\nundertakes, this world of the blitheness of human soul-life is that to\nwhich Aristophanes conducts us. Without a reading of him it is hardly\npossible to imagine what a wealth of exuberance there is in the human\nheart.\n\nThe interests among which this type of comedy moves are not necessarily\ntaken from the opposed spheres of religion, morality, and art. On the\ncontrary the old Greek comedy remains no doubt within the limits of\nthis positive and substantive content of human life; but it is the\nindividual caprice, the vulgar folly and perversity, by reason of\nwhich the characters concerned bring to nought activities which in\ntheir aim have a finer significance. And in this respect an ample and\nvery pertinent material is supplied Aristophanes partly by Greek gods,\nand partly by the life of the Athenian people. In other words, the\nconfiguration of the divine in human impersonation itself possesses, in\nits mode of presentation and its particularization, to the extent at\nleast that it is further enforced in opposition to that which is merely\none-sided and human, the contradiction that is opposed to the nobility\nof its significance; it is thus permitted to appear as a purely empty\nextension of this personal life which is inadequate wholly to express\nit. More particularly, however, Aristophanes revels in the follies of\nthe common folk, the stupidities of its orators and statesmen, the\nblockheadedness of war, and is eager, above all, and with all the\npoliteness of his satire and the full weight of his ridicule, but also\nnot without the profoundest meaning, to hand over the new tendencies\nof the tragedies of Euripides to the laughter of his fellow-citizens.\nThe characters he has imported into the substance of his amazing\nartistic creations he runs into the mould of fool from the start with\na sportive fancy that seems inexhaustible, so that the very idea of a\nrational result is impossible. He treats all alike, whether it be a\nStrepsiades, who will join the ranks of philosophers in order to be\nrid of his debts, or a Socrates, who offers to instruct the aforesaid\nStrepsiades and his son, or Bacchus, whom he makes descend into the\nlower world, in order to bring up a genuine tragic poet, and in just\nthe same way Cleon, the women and the Greeks, who would like to pump\nup the goddess of Peace from the well. The key-note that we find in\nall these various creations is the imperturbable self-assurance of\nsuch characters one and all, which becomes all the more emphatic in\nproportion as they prove themselves incapable of carrying into effect\nthat which they project. Our fools here are so entirely unembarrassed\nin their folly, and also the more sensible among them possess such a\ntincture of that which runs contrary to the very course upon which they\nare set, that they all, the more sensible with the rest, remain fixed\nto this personal attitude of prodigious imperturbility, no matter what\ncomes next or where it carries them. It is in fact the blessed laughter\nof the Olympian gods, with their untroubled equanimity, now at home\nin the human breast, and prepared for all contingences. And withal we\nnever find Aristophanes merely a cold or evil-disposed mocker. He was a\nman of the finest education, a most exemplary citizen, to whom the weal\nof Athens was of really deep importance, and who through thick and thin\nshows himself to be a true patriot. What therefore is in the fullest\nsense resolved in his comedies is, as already stated, not the divine\nand what is of ethical import, but the thoroughgoing upside-down-ness\nwhich inflates itself into the semblance of these substantive forces,\nthe particular form and distinctive mode of its manifestation, in which\nthe essential thing or matter is already from the first no longer\npresent, so that it can without restriction be simply handed over to\nthe unconcerned play of unqualified personal caprice. But for the very\nreason that Aristophanes makes explicit the absolute contradiction\nbetween the essential nature of the gods, or that of political and\nsocial life, and the personal activities of individual persons or\ncitizens, who ought to endow such substantive form with reality, we\nfind in this very triumph of purely personal self-assertion, despite\nall the profounder insight which the poet displays, one of the greatest\nsymptoms of the degeneracy of Greece. And it is on account of this that\nthese pictures of a wholly unperturbed sense of \"everything coming\nout right in the end\" [54] are as a matter of fact the last important\nharvest which we have from the poetry created by the exuberant genius,\nculture, and wit of the Greek nation.\n\n(_\u03b2_) I shall now direct attention to the dramatic art of the modern\nworld, and here, too, I only propose to emphasize the more general and\nfundamental features which we find of importance, whether dealing with\ntragedy or the ordinary drama and comedy.\n\n(_\u03b1\u03b1_) Tragedy, in the nobility which distinguishes it in its ancient\nplastic form, is limited to the partial point of view that for its\nexclusive and essential basis it only enforces as effective the\nethically substantive content and its necessary laws; and, on the other\nhand, leaves the individual and subjective self-penetration of the\ndramatic characters essentially unevolved; while comedy on its part,\nto complete what we may regard as the reversed side of such plastic\nconstruction, exhibits to us the personal caprice of soul-life in the\nunfettered abandonment of its topsy-turvydom and ultimate dissolution.\n\n_Modern tragedy_ accepts in its own province from the first the\nprinciple of subjectivity or self-assertion. It makes, therefore, the\npersonal intimacy of character--the character, that is, which is no\npurely individual and vital embodiment of ethical forces in the classic\nsense--its peculiar object and content. It, moreover, makes, in a type\nof concurrence that is adapted to this end, human actions come into\ncollision through the instrumentality of the external accident of\ncircumstances in the way that a contingency of a similar character is\nalso decisive in its effect on the consequence, or appears to be so\ndecisive.\n\nIn this connection we would subject to examination the following\nfundamental points:\n\n_Firsts_ the nature of the varied _ends_ which ought to come into\nthe executive process of the action as the content of the characters\ntherein.\n\n_Secondly_, the nature of the tragic _characters_ themselves, as also\nof the collisions they are compelled to face.\n\n_Thirdly_, the nature of the final _issue_ and tragic reconciliation,\nas these differ from those of ancient tragedy.\n\nTo start with, we may observe that, however much in romantic tragedy\nthe personal aspect of suffering and passions, in the true meaning\nof such an attitude, is the focal centre, yet, for all that, it is\nimpossible in human activity that the ground basis of definite ends\nborrowed from the concrete worlds of the family, the State, the\nChurch, and others should be dispensed with. In so far, however, as\nin the drama under discussion, it is not the substantive content as\nsuch in these spheres of life which constitutes the main interest of\nindividuals. Such ends are from a certain point of view particularized\nin a breadth of extension and variety, as also in exceptional modes of\npresentment, in which it often happens that what is truly essential is\nonly able to force itself on our attention with attenuated strength.\nAnd over and above this fact, these ends receive an entirely altered\nform. In the province of religion, for example, the content which\npre-eminently is asserted is no longer the particular ethical powers\nexhibited imaginatively under the mode of divine individuals, either in\ntheir own person or in the pathos of human heroes. It is the history of\nChrist, or of saints and the like, which is now set before us. In the\npolitical community it is mainly the position of kingship, the power of\nvassal chiefs, the strife of dynasties, or the particular members of\none and the same ruling family which forms the content of the varied\npicture. Nay, if we take a step further we find as the principal\nsubject-matter questions of civic or private right and other relations\nof a similar character; and, further, we shall find a similar attention\npaid to features in the family life which were not yet within the reach\nof ancient drama. And the reason of this is that, inasmuch as in the\nspheres of life above-mentioned the principle of the personal life in\nits independence has asserted its claim, novel phases of existence make\ntheir inevitable appearance in each one of them, which the modern man\nclaims to set up as the end and directory of his action.\n\nAnd, from a further point of view in this drama, it is the right\nof subjectivity, as above defined, absolutely unqualified, which is\nretained as the dominating content; and for this reason personal love,\nhonour, and the rest make such an exclusive appeal as ends of human\naction that, while in one direction other relations cannot fail to\nappear as the purely external background on which these interests\nof our modern life are set in motion, in another such relations on\ntheir own account actively conflict with the requirements of the more\nindividual state of emotion. Of more profound significance still is\nwrong and crime, even assuming that a particular character does not\ndeliberately and to start with place himself in either, yet does not\navoid in order to attain his original purpose.\n\nAnd, furthermore, in contrast to this particularization and individual\nstandpoint, the ends proposed may likewise either in one direction\nexpand to cover the universality and all-inclusive embrace of the\ncontent, or they are in another apprehended and carried into execution\nas themselves intrinsically substantive. In the first respect, I will\nmerely recall to memory that typically philosophical tragedy, the\n\"Faust\" of Goethe, in which, on the one hand, a spirit of disillusion\nin the pursuit of science, and, on the other, the vital resources of a\nworldly life and earthly enjoyment--in a word, the attempted mediation\nin the tragic manner of an individual's wisdom and strife with the\nAbsolute in its essential significance and phenomenal manifestation,\noffers a breadth of content such as no other dramatic poet has hitherto\nventured to include in one and the same composition. The \"Carl Moor\"\nof Schiller is something of the same fashion. He rebels against the\nentire order of civic society and the collective condition of the\nworld and the humanity of his time, and fortifies himself as such\nagainst the same. Wallenstein in the same way conceives a great and\nfar-reaching purpose, the unity and peace of Germany, an object he\nfails to carry into effect by the means which, in virtue of the fact\nthat they are wielded together in an artificial manner, and one that\nlacks essential coherence, break in pieces and come to nought precisely\nin the direction where he is most anxious of their success; and he\nfails in the same way by reason of his opposition to the imperial\nauthority, upon which he himself and his enterprise are inevitably\nshattered. Such objects of a world-wide policy, such as a Carl Moor or\na Wallenstein pursue, are as a rule not accomplished at the hands of\na single individual by the simple means that other men are induced to\nobey and co-operate; they are carried into effect by the commanding\npersonality, partly acting in conjunction with the wills of many\nothers, and in part in opposition to, or at least on lines of which\nthey have no knowledge. As an illustration of a conception of objects\nviewed in their essential significance, I will merely instance certain\ntragedies of Calderon, in which love, honour, and similar virtues\nare respectively to the rights and obligations in which they involve\nthe characters of the action, treated as so many unyielding laws of\nindependent force with all the stringency of a code. We find also\nfrequently much the same thing assumed in Schiller's tragic characters,\nthough the point of view is no doubt wholly different, at least to the\nextent that such individuals conceive and combat for their ends with\nthe assumption they are universal and absolutely valid human rights. So\nin the early play of \"Kabale und Liebe\" Major Ferdinand seeks to defend\nthe rights of Nature against the conveniences of fashionable society,\nand, above all, claims of the Marquis Posa freedom of thought as an\ninalienable possession of humanity.\n\nGenerally speaking, however, in modern tragedy it is not the\nsubstantive content of its object in the interest of which men act,\nand which is maintained as the stimulus of their passion; rather\nit is the inner experience of their heart and individual emotion,\nor the particular qualities of their personality, which insist on\nsatisfaction. For even in the examples already referred to we find that\nto a real extent in those heroes of Spanish honour and love the content\nof their ultimate ends is so essentially of a personal character that\nthe rights and obligations deducible from the same are able to fuse in\ndirect concurrence with the individual desires of the heart, and to a\nlarge extent, too, in the youthful works of Schiller this continual\ninsistence upon Nature, rights of man, and a converted world somewhat\nsavours of the excess of a wholly personal enthusiasm. And if it came\nabout that Schiller in later years endeavoured to enforce a more mature\ntype of pathos, this was simply due to the fact that it was his main\nidea to restore once again in modern dramatic art the principle of\nancient tragedy.\n\nIn order to emphasize still more distinctly the difference which in\nthis respect obtains between ancient and modern tragedy, I will merely\nrefer the reader to Shakespeare's \"Hamlet.\" Here we find fundamentally\na collision similar to that which is introduced by \u00c6schylus into his\n\"Choeporae\" and that by Sophocles into his \"Electra.\" For Hamlet's\nfather, too, and the King, as in these Greek plays, has been murdered,\nand his mother has wedded the murderer. That which, however, in\nthe conception of the Greek dramatists possesses a certain ethical\njustification--I mean the death of Agamemnon--relatively to his\nsacrifice of Iphigeneia in the contrasted case of Shakespeare's play,\ncan only be viewed as an atrocious crime, of which Hamlet's mother\nis innocent; so that the son is merely concerned in his vengeance to\ndirect his attention to the fratricidal king, and there is nothing in\nthe latter's character that possesses any real claim to his respect.\nThe real collision, therefore, does not turn on the fact that the son,\nin giving effect to a rightful sense of vengeance, is himself forced\nto violate morality, but rather on the particular personality, the\ninner life of Hamlet, whose noble soul is not steeled to this kind of\nenergetic activity, but, while full of contempt for the world and life,\nwhat between making up his mind and attempting to carry into effect or\npreparing to carry into effect its resolves, is bandied from pillar\nto post, and finally through his own procrastination and the external\ncourse of events meets his own doom.\n\nIf we now turn, in close connection with the above conclusions, to\nour _second_ point of fundamental importance in modern tragedy--that\nis to say, the nature of the characters and their collisions--we\nmay summarily take a point of departure from the following general\nobservations.\n\nThe heroes of ancient classic tragedy discover circumstances under\nwhich they, so long as they irrefragably adhere to the _one_ ethical\nstate of pathos which alone corresponds to their own already formed\npersonality, must infallibly come into conflict with an ethical\nPower which opposes them and possesses an equal ethical claim to\nrecognition. Romantic characters, on the contrary, are from the first\nplaced within a wide expanse of contingent relations and conditions,\nwithin which every sort of action is possible; so that the conflict,\nto which no doubt the external conditions presupposed supply the\noccasion, essentially abides within the _character_ itself, to which\nthe individuals concerned in their passion give effect, not, however,\nin the interests of the ethical vindication of the truly substantive\nclaims, but for the simple reason that they are the kind of men they\nare. Greek heroes also no doubt act in accordance with their particular\nindividuality; but this individuality, as before noted, if we take\nfor our examples the supreme results of ancient tragedy, is itself\nnecessarily identical with an ethical pathos which is substantive. In\nmodern tragedy the peculiar character in its real significance, and to\nwhich it as a matter of accident remains constant, whether it happens\nto grasp after that which on its own account is on moral grounds\njustifiable, or is carried into wrong and crime, forms its resolves\nunder the dictate of personal wishes and necessities, or among other\nthings purely external considerations. In such a case, therefore,\nthough we may have a coalescence between the moral aspect of the object\nand the character, yet, for all that, such a concurrence does not\nconstitute, and cannot constitute--owing to the divided character of\nends, passions, and the life wholly personal to the individual, the\n_essential_ basis and objective condition of the depth and beauty of\nthe tragic drama.\n\nIn view of the great variety of difference which further separates\nparticular characters in this type of poetry, it is impossible to do\nmuch in the way of generalization. I will, therefore, restrict myself\nto a reference to the following fundamental points of view. A primary\nopposition which at once invites notice is that of an _abstract_, and\nconsequently formal, characterization in its contrast with the actual\nindividuals whom we are accustomed to meet in the concrete living\nworld. As example of this type, we may with exceptional pertinency cite\nthe tragic characters of the French and Italians, which, originating\nin the imitation of ancient drama, to a greater or less degree merely\namount to pure personifications of specific passions, such as love,\nhonour, fame, ambition, tyranny, and so forth, and which, while they\npresent the motives of their actions, as also the gradation and\nquality of their emotions to the best advantage with a lavish display\nof declamation, and all the arts of rhetoric, none the less by doing\nso rather resemble the dramatic failures of Seneca than the dramatic\nmasterpieces of the Greeks. Spanish tragedy also receives the stamp\nof this abstract style of character-drawing. In this case, however,\nthe pathos of love, in its conflict with honour, friendship, royal\nprerogative, and the rest is itself of so abstract a subjective\ncharacter that in the case where the intention is to make this equally\nideal[55] substantiality stand out as the genuine object of interest,\na more complete particularization of characters is hardly feasible.\nThe characters of Spanish drama, however, often possess a certain kind\nof solidity, and, if I may use the expression, inflexible personality,\nhowever wanting in content it may be, a feature that is absent from\nFrench work; and at the same time Spanish writers, here also in\ncontrast to the cold simplicity which the movement of French tragedies\nexhibits even in their tragic composition, know how to make up with the\ncleverly invented abundance of interesting situations and developments\nthe deficiency referred to in the matter of characterization.\n\nIn contrast to both these schools, and in their mastery of the\nexposition of fully developed human characters and personality,\nthe English are exceptionally distinguished; and among them, and\nsoaring above the rest at an almost unapproachable height, stands\nShakespeare. For even in the cases where a purely formal passion,\nas for instance ambition in Macbeth, or jealousy in Othello, claims\nas its field the entire pathos[56] of his tragic hero, such an\nabstraction impairs by no fraction the full breadth of the personality.\nDespite of this restriction of analysis[57] the characters remain\nthroughout entire men. In fact, the more Shakespeare on the infinite\nembrace of his world-stage, proceeds to develop the extreme limits\nof evil and folly, to that extent, as I have already observed, on\nthese very boundaries--of course, not without real wealth of poetic\nembellishment--he concentrates these characters in their limitations.\nWhile doing so, however, he confers on them intelligence and\nimagination; and, by means of the image in which they, by virtue of\nthat intelligence, contemplate themselves objectively as a work of art,\nhe makes them free artists of themselves, and is fully able, through\nthe complete virility and truth of his characterization, to awaken our\ninterest in criminals, no less than in the most vulgar and weak-witted\nlubbers and fools. Of a similar nature is the style of expression he\nmakes his tragic characters adopt. It is at once individual, realistic,\nemphatically vital, extraordinarily various, and, moreover, where\nit seems advisable, it can rise to sublimity and is marked by an\noverwhelming force of utterance. Its ideal intensity and its qualities\nof invention are displayed in images and simile that flash from each\nother with lightning rapidity. Its very rhetoric, here the barren\nchild of no school, but the growth of genuine emotion and penetration\ninto human personality, is such that, if we take into account this\nextraordinary union of the directness of life itself and ideal\ngreatness of soul, we shall find it hard indeed to point to a single\nother dramatic poet among the moderns whom we are entitled to rank in\nhis company. No doubt Goethe in his youth made a real effort to achieve\nsome approach to a like natural truth and detailed characterization;\nbut in the ideal force and exaltation of passion his rivalry collapses.\nThe style of Schiller, again, has shown an increasing tendency to\nviolent methods, the tempestuous expatiation of which lack the true\ncore of reality for their basis.\n\nModern characters also differ in the nature of their _constancy_ or\ntheir spiritual _vacillation_ and distraction. We find, no doubt, the\nweakness of indecision, the fluctuations of reflection, the weighing\nof reasons, conformably to which a resolve should be directed, here\nand there in classic drama, and more particularly in the tragedies\nof Euripides. But Euripides is a writer whose tendency is already to\nforsake the wholly plastic completeness of characterization and action\nand to develop exceptional aspects of personal sensibility. In modern\ntragedy we meet yet more frequently such vacillating characters, more\nparticularly on the ground that they are essentially under the sway\nof two opposed passions, which make them fluctuate from one resolve\nor one kind of deed to another. I have already made some observations\non this attitude of vacillation in another context, and will now\nmerely supplement this by stating that, although the tragic action\nmust depend on colliding factors, yet where we find such a division in\n_one_ and the same individual such a concurrence is always attended\nwith precarious consequences. And the reason is that this disruption\ninto interests, which are opposed to each other, is due in part to an\nobscurity and obtuseness of the intelligence, and in some measure,\ntoo, to weakness and immaturity. We come across characters of this\ntype in the creations of Goethe's younger days, notably Weisungen,\nFernando in \"Stella,\" and above all Clavigo. They are, as we may\nsay, double men, who are unable to secure a ready, and so stable,\nindividuality. It is wholly another matter when two opposed spheres of\nlife or moral obligation are equally sacred to a character which, on\nits own account, is not deficient in stability, and such a person is\nunder the necessity of ranking himself on _one_ side to the exclusion\nof the other. In a case of that kind, the vacillation is merely a\nmoment of passage, and does not itself constitute, as it were, the\nnervous system of the character. Again, of a somewhat similar kind,\nis the tragic case where the spiritual life is seduced, despite its\nnobler purpose, into objects of passion which are contradictory[58]\nto the same, as in the case of Schiller's \"Holy Maid,\" and are then\nforced to seek a recovery from this division of the soul in their own\nintimate or objective life, or pay the penalty. At the same time, this\npersonal tragedy of the distraction of soul-life, when it is made the\npivot on which the tragic action revolves,[59] contains, as a rule,\nwhat is merely pitiful and painful, or, from another standpoint,\nexasperating;[60] and the poet will rather do better to avoid it than\ngo out of his way to find it and develop it. The worst case is that,\nhowever, where such a vacillation and veering round of character and\nthe entire personality is--the very dialectic of art being thrown awry\nfor this purpose--made the principle of the entire presentation, as\nthough the truth of all importance was to demonstrate that no character\nis in itself firmly rooted and self-assured. The one-sided ends of\nspecific passions, it is true, ought not to bring about a realization\nwhich is secured without a battle; and also, in everyday life, they\ncannot fail to experience, through the reactionary power of conditions\nand individuals which oppose them, their finite character and lack\nof stability. An issue of this kind, however, before the appearance\nof which we are unable to get the pertinent conclusion, ought not to\nbe introduced as a dialectical piece of wheel adjustment[61] in the\npersonality itself; if it is, the person concerned, viewed as _this_\npersonal state of the soul, is a wholly empty and undefined form,\nwhose collective living growth is found, no less in respect to its\nobjects than in its character, to be wholly wanting in definition. In\nmuch the same way the case, also, is otherwise, where the change in\nthe spiritual condition of the entire man itself appears as a direct\nconsequent of just this, its own kind of self-detachment, so that only\nthat is developed and emphasized which essentially and from the first\nlay secured in the character. As an example, we find in Shakespeare's\nLear that the original folly of the old man is intensified to the point\nof madness much in the same way that Gloster's spiritual blindness is\nconverted into actual physical blindness, in which for the first time\nhis eyes are opened to the true distinction in the love he entertains\nfor his two sons respectively. It is precisely Shakespeare who, as a\ncontrast to that exposition of vacillating and essentially self-divided\ncharacters, supplies us with the finest examples of essentially stable\nand consequential characters, who go to their doom precisely in virtue\nof this tenacious hold upon themselves and their ends. Unsupported by\nthe sanction of the moral law, but rather carried onward by the formal\nnecessity of their personality, they suffer themselves to be involved\nin their acts by the coil of external circumstances, or they plunge\nblindly therein and maintain themselves there by sheer force of will,\neven where all that they do is merely done because they are impelled to\nassert themselves against others, or because they have simply come to\nthe particular point they have reached. The rise of insurgent passion,\none essentially consonant with a certain type of character, one which\nhas not as yet fully emerged, but now secures its utmost expansion,\nthis onward movement and process of a great soul, with all the intimate\ntraits of its evolution, this picture of its selfdestructive conflict\nwith circumstances, human and objective conditions and results, is the\nmain content of some of Shakespeare's most interesting tragedies.\n\nThe last of the subjects which we have still to discuss as proposed\nis the nature of the _tragic issue_ which characters in our present\ndrama have to confront, as also the type of tragic _reconciliation_\ncompatible with such a standpoint. In ancient tragedy it is the eternal\njustice which, as the absolute might of destiny, delivers and restores\nthe harmony of substantive being in its ethical character by its\nopposition to the particular forces which, in their strain to assert\nan independent subsistence, come into collision, and which, in virtue\nof the rational ideality implied in its operations, satisfies us even\nwhere we see the downfall of particular men. In so far as a justice\nof the same kind is present in modern tragedy, it is necessarily, in\npart, more abstract on account of the closer differentiation of ends\nand characters, and, in part, of a colder nature and one that is more\nakin to that of a criminal court, in virtue of the fact that the wrong\nand crime into which individuals are necessarily carried, in so far\nas they are intent upon executing their designs, are of a profounder\nsignificance. Macbeth, for instance, the elder daughters of Lear and\ntheir husbands, the president in \"Kabale und Liebe,\" Richard III,\nand many similar examples, on account of their atrocious conduct,\nonly deserve the fate they get. This type of _d\u00e9nouement_ usually is\npresented under the guise that individuals are crushed by an actual\nforce which they have defied in order to carry out their personal aims.\nWallenstein, for example, is shattered on the adamantine wall of the\nimperial power; but the old Piccolomini, who, in order to maintain the\nlawful r\u00e9gime, betrays a friend and misuses the rights of friendship,\nis punished through the death and sacrifice of his son. G\u00f6tz von\nBerlichingen, too, attacks a dominant and securely founded political\norder, and goes to ground, as also Weislingen and Adelheid, who range\nthemselves, no doubt, on the side of this organized power, but, through\nwrongful deed and disloyalty, prepare the way to disaster. And along\nwith this we have the demand emphasized, in virtue of the personal\npoint of view of such characters, that these should of necessity appear\nthemselves to acknowledge the justice of their fate. Such a state of\nacceptance may either be of a religious nature, in which case the\nsoul becomes conscious of a more exalted and indestructible condition\nof blessedness with which to confront the collapse of its mundane\npersonality; or it may be of a more formal, albeit more worldly, type,\nin so far, that is, as the strength and equanimity of the character\npersists in its course up to the point of overthrow without breaking\nasunder; and in this way, despite all circumstances and mischances,\npreserves with unimpaired energy its personal freedom. Or, as a final\nalternative, where the substance of such acceptance is of more real\nvalue, by the recognition that the lot which the individual receives is\nthe one, however bitter it may be, which his action merits.\n\nFrom another point of view, however, we may see the tragic issue\nalso merely in the light of the effect of unhappy circumstances\nand external accidents, which might have brought about, quite as\nreadily, a different result and a happy conclusion. From such a\npoint of view we have merely left us the conception that the modern\nidea of individuality, with its searching definition of character,\ncircumstances, and developments, is handed over essentially to the\ncontingency of the earthly state, and must carry the fateful issues\nof such finitude. Pure commiseration of this sort is, however,\ndestitute of meaning; and it is nothing less than a frightful kind of\nexternal necessity in the particular case where we see the downfall\nof essentially noble natures in their conflict thus assumed with the\nmischance of purely external accidents. Such a course of events can\ninsistently arrest our attention; but in the result it can only be\nhorrible, and the demand is direct and irresistible that the external\naccidents ought to accord with that which is identical with the\nspiritual nature of such noble characters. Only as thus regarded can we\nfeel ourselves reconciled with the grievous end of Hamlet and Juliet.\nFrom a purely external point of view, the death of Hamlet appears as\nan accident occasioned by his duel with Laertes and the interchange of\nthe daggers. But in the background of Hamlet's soul, death is already\npresent from the first. The sandbank of finite condition will not\ncontent his spirit. As the focus of such mourning and weakness, such\nmelancholy, such a loathing of all the conditions of life, we feel from\nthe first that, hemmed within such an environment of horror, he is a\nlost man, whom the surfeit of the soul has wellnigh already done to\ndeath before death itself approaches him from without. The same thing\nmay be observed in the case of Romeo and Juliet. The ground on which\nthese tender blossoms have been planted is alien to their nature; we\nhave no alternative left us but to lament the pathetic transiency of\nsuch a beautiful love, which, as some tender rose in the vale of this\nworld of accident, is broken by rude storms and tempests, and the\nfrangible reckonings of noble and well-meaning devices. This pitiful\nstate of our emotions is, however, simply a feeling of reconciliation\nthat is painful, a kind of _unhappy blessedness_ in misfortune.\n\n(_\u03b2\u03b2_) Much as poets present to us the bare downfall of particular\npeople they are also able to treat the similar contingency of the\ndevelopment of events in such a way, that, despite of the fact the\ncircumstances in all other respects would appear to give them little\nenough support, a happy issue of such conditions and characters is\nsecured, in which they elicit our interest. No doubt the favour of\nsuch a destiny of events has at least an equal claim upon us as the\ndisfavour. And so far as the question merely concerns the nature of\nthis difference, I must admit that I prefer a happy conclusion. How\ncould it be otherwise? I can myself discover no better ground for the\npreference of misfortune, simply on its own account as such, to a\nhappy resolution than that of a certain condition of fine sensibility,\nwhich is devoted to pain and suffering, and experiences more interest\nin their presence than in painless situations such as it meets with\nevery day. If therefore the interests are of such a nature, that it is\nreally not worth the trouble to sacrifice the men or women concerned\non their altar, it being possible for them either to surrender their\nobjects, without making such surrender as is equivalent to a surrender\nof their individuality, or to mutually come to an agreement in respect\nthereof, there is no reason why the conclusion should be tragic. The\ntragic aspect of the conflicts and their resolution ought in principle\nmerely to be enforced in the cases where it is actually necessary\nin order to satisfy the claim of a superior point of view. If this\nnecessity is absent there is no sufficient ground for mere suffering\nand unhappiness. And it is simply due to this fact that social _plays_\nand _dramas_ originate which form, as it were, an intermediate link\nbetween tragedies and comedies. I have already in a previous passage\nexplained the poetical standpoint of this class of composition. Among\nus Germans we find it to some extent appropriating what readily moves\nus in the world of the citizen and family life; in another direction\nit is preoccupied with chivalry, a movement to which the G\u00f6tz of\nGoethe has given a decided stimulus; mainly, however, we may call it\nthe triumph of _ordinary morality_, which in the large majority of\ncases is the main thing celebrated. The subject-matter of such plays\nmost in vogue are questions of finance or property, differences of\nstatus, unfortunate love affairs, examples of spiritual baseness in\nthe more restricted conditions and affairs of life and so on. In one\nword, what we have here is that which otherwise is already before our\neyes, only with this difference, that in such moral dramas, virtue and\nduty obtain the victory, and crime is shamed and punished, or betakes\nitself to repentance, so that in a moral conclusion of this kind the\nreconciliation ought to centre in this, namely, that whatever happens\ngood is the result. Thereby the fundamental interest is concentrated\nin the personal or spiritual quality of views held and a good or evil\nheart. The more, however, the abstractly moral state of mind or heart\nsupplies the pivot on which all turns, so much the less can it be the\npathos of a particular matter, or an intrinsically essential object, to\nwhich the personality in question is attached. And add to this, from\na further point of view, so much the less ultimately is the definite\ncharacter able to maintain itself and persist in such self-assertion.\nIf all is to be finally focussed in the purely moral aspects of the\npsychological state, or the condition of the heart, from a subjective\npoint of view such as this, with its dominating emphasis on ethical\nreflection, no standing ground remains for any other definite\ncharacteristics, or at least specific ends to be proposed. Let the\nheart break and change its views. Such seems to be the idea. Pathetic\ndramas of this type, notably Kotzebue's \"Menschenhass und Reue,\"\nand also too many moral offences in the dramas of Iffland, strictly\nspeaking, have therefore an issue which we can neither call good or\nbad. I mean by this that the main thing is as a rule the question of\npardon and the promise of moral improvement, and we are therefore\nconfronted with that possibility of spiritual conversion and surrender\nof the self. No doubt in this fact we discover the exalted nature and\ngreatness of Spirit. When, however, the jolly dog,[62] as the heroes\nof Kotzebue are for the most part, and not unfrequently Iffland's too,\nafter being a scamp and a rascal, suddenly promises to turn over a new\nleaf, it is frankly impossible with a good-for-nothing chap of this\nsort that his conversion can be otherwise than mere pretence, or of so\nsuperficial a character that it merely affects his skin, and merely\nsupplies a momentary conclusion to the course of events that has no\nsubstantial basis, but rather, by all ordinary reckoning, will take the\nknave to disreputable quarters, if we will only acquaint ourselves with\nhis subsequent history.\n\n(_\u03b3\u03b3_) As regards our _modern comedy_ I must draw particular attention\nto one point of difference, to which I have already alluded when\ndiscussing the old Attic comedy. The point is this--whether the\nfolly and restricted outlook of the characters of the drama merely\nappears ridiculous to others, or is equally perceived as such by those\npersons themselves; whether in short the comic characters are an\nobject of laughter only to the audience, or also to such characters.\nAristophanes, that creator of genuine comedy, exclusively accepted\nas the main principle of his plays the latter alternative. Already,\nhowever, in Greek comedy of a later date, and subsequently in the hands\nof Plautus and Terence, the opposite principle came into vogue; and in\nour modern examples of comedy it has been carried to such a length that\nwe find a large number of comic compositions the inclination of which\nis more or less the subject-matter which is ridiculous in a purely\nprosaic sense, or rather we might say matters that leave a sour taste\nin the mouth of and are repugnant to the comic characters. This is\nthe standpoint of Moli\u00e8re in particular in his best comedies, which\nhave no right to be regarded as farces. The prosaic quality here is\njustified on the ground that the objects aimed at by such characters\nare a matter of bitter earnest. They are deadly serious in the pursuit\nof it; they are therefore quite unable to join with satisfaction in the\nlaughter, when they are finally deceived, or themselves are responsible\nfor its failure. They are in short merely the disillusioned objects of\na laughter foreign to themselves and generally damaging to themselves.\nAs an example: Moli\u00e8re's Tartuffe _le faux d\u00e9vot_, viewed as the\nunmasking of a really damned rascal has nothing funny in it, but is a\nvery earnest business, and the deception of the deluded Orgon amounts\nto a sheer intensity of misfortune, which can only be resolved by the\n_Deus ex machina_, in reference to whom the official of the court of\njustice utters the following exhortation:\n\n\n    Remettez-vous, monsieur, d'une alarme si chaude.\n    Nous vivons sous un prince, ennemi de la fraude,\n    Un prince dont les yeux se font jour dans les coeurs,\n    Et que ne peut tromper tout l'art des imposteurs.\n\n\nWe may add, too, that the odious abstract[63] excess of characters\nso stable as, for example, Moli\u00e8re's \"Miser,\" the absolutely stolid\nand serious subjection of whom to his idiotic passion renders any\nemancipation from such fetters impossible, contains in it nothing that\nis genuinely comic.\n\nIt is pre-eminently in this field that for compensation of such defects\na fine artistic power in the accurate and exhaustive delineation of\ncharacter is manifested, or a true mastery of the craft discovers its\nbest opportunity for an admirably thought-out intrigue. As a rule the\noccasion for such an intrigue is supplied by the circumstance that some\ncharacter or other endeavours to secure his objects by deluding some\none else, such a course appearing to harmonize with these interests\nand advance them. As a matter of fact, however, it only results in the\ncontradictory situation that it is through this pernicious demand they\nare self-destructive. In opposition to such a plot we find as a rule\na similar plot of dissembled appearances put in motion, which has for\nits object the like confusion of the original plotter. Such a general\nscheme admits of an infinite number and degree of ups and downs in the\ninterweaving of its situations which are adapted to every conceivable\nsubtlety. The Spaniards are, in particular, the most consummate masters\nin the invention of such intrigues and developments, and have composed\nmuch that is delightful and excellent in this class of work. The\nsubject-matter generally consists of the attractive incidents of love\nor affairs of honour and the like. In tragedy these bring about the\nprofoundest collisions; in comedy, however, where such qualities as\npride and love that has been long experienced do not assert themselves\nas such, but rather by doing the reverse and in the result give the\nlie to themselves, such interests can merely appear to us as entirely\nsuperficial and comic.[64] A word in conclusion as to the characters\nwho hatch and carry out such intrigues. Such are usually, following\nthe example of the slaves in the Roman comedy, servants or menials,\nwho have no respect for the objects of their superiors, but rather\nmake them subordinate to their own advantage or bring them to nought,\nand merely present us with the amusing position, that the real masters\nare the servants and the masters the slaves, or at least give rise to\nall kinds of comic situation, which come about accidentally, or are\ndirectly the result of intention. We of course, as audience, are in the\nknow of such mysteries, and can fortify ourselves against every sort of\ncunning and deceit, which often carries the most serious consequences\nto fathers, uncles, aunts, and the rest, all of the most respectable\nantecedents; and we may laugh as we please over the contradictory\nsituations that appear before us, or are involved in such ingenious\ndeceptions.\n\nIn this kind of way our modern comedy, generally speaking, gives play\non the stage to private interests and personalities of the social life\nI have mentioned in their accidental vagaries, laughable features,\nabnormal habits and follies, partly by means of character delineation,\nand partly with the help of comic developments of situations and\ncircumstances. A joviality so frank and genial as that which persists\nin the Aristophanic comedy as the mediating element of its resolution,\ndoes not animate this kind of comedy; or rather cases occur where\nit can be actually repulsive, that is to say, where that which is\nessentially evil, the tricks of menials, the treachery of sons and\nwards towards worthy men, fathers and guardians is triumphant, always\nassuming that the persons deluded have in no way themselves been\ninfluenced by false prejudices or eccentricities of such a kind that\nthere is some reason why they should be made to appear ridiculous in\ntheir helpless stupidity and handed over as the sport of the aims of\nothers.\n\nIn a converse way, however, and in contrast as such to the above\ngenerally prosaic type of treatment, the modern world, too, has\nelaborated a world of comedy which is both truly comic and poetical\nin its nature. The fundamental note here again is the cheeriness of\ndisposition, the inexhaustible resources of fun, no matter what may\nbe the nature of miscarriage or bad luck, the exuberance and dash of\nwhat is at bottom nothing better than pure tomfoolery, and, in a word,\nexploited self-assurance. We have here as a result, in yet profounder\nexpatiation, and yet more intense display of humour, whether the sphere\nof it be more restricted or capacious, and whether the mode of it be\nmore or less important, what runs on parallel lines with that which\nAristophanes in the ancient world and in his own field created beyond\nall rivalry. As the master, who in a similar way outshines all others\nin his field, or rather the particular portion to which I now refer,\nI will, though without now further entering into detail, once again\nemphasize the name of William Shakespeare.\n\n*\n\nHaving completed our review of the types under which comedy is\nelaborated we have at last reached the absolute conclusion of our\nscientific inquiry. We started with symbolical art, in which the\nideality of the human soul struggles to discover itself as content\nand configuration, and, in a word, to become an object to itself.\nWe passed on to the plastic of classical art, which displays to\nhuman vision that which has become unveiled to itself as substantive\nbeing in man's vital personality. We reached our conclusion in the\nromantic art of the individual soul-life, that inward world united to\nthe absolute medium of its self-conscious energy, which expatiates\nunfettered within its own ideal life of Spirit; and which, content\nwith that realm, no longer unites itself with what is objective\nand particularized, and finally makes itself aware of the negative\nsignificance of such a resolution in the humour of the comic Spirit.\nNevertheless we find that in this very consummation it is Comedy which\nopens the way to a dissolution of all that human art implies. For\nthe aim of all art is nothing else than that identity asserted and\ndisplayed by the human Spirit, in which the eternal, the Divine, the\nessential and explicated truth is unfolded in the forms and phenomenal\npresence of the objective world to the apprehension of our external\nsenses and our emotional life and imagination. If, however, as is the\nfact, comedy merely enforces this unity under a mode that annihilates\nit, inasmuch as the absolute substance,[65] which strives here to\nenforce its realized manifestation, perceives that this realization\nis,--through the instrumentality of those interests which have now\nsecured an independent freedom within the embrace of the objective\nworld of Nature,[66] and are as such exclusively directed to what is\ncontingent and personal to the soul,--itself shattered, it follows that\nthe presence and activity of the Absolute is no longer truly asserted\nin positive coalescence with the individual characters and ends of\nexisting objective reality, but rather solely gives effect to itself in\nthe negative form that everything which does not correspond with itself\nis thereby cancelled, and all that remains is the presence of this\nfree personal activity of soul-life which is displayed in and along\nwith this dissolution as aware of itself and self-assured.\n\nBy such a path, then, as this we have arrived at our goal; and with\nthe aid of our philosophical method have gathered every essential type\nand determinant of the beauty and conformation of art into a garland,\nthe task of arranging which in its associate completeness belongs to\nthe most worthy of any within the range of human science to undertake.\nFor in human Art we are not merely dealing with playthings, however\npleasant or useful they may be, but with the liberation of the human\nSpirit from the substance and forms of finite condition. We are\noccupied with the presence and reconciliation of the Absolute in sense\nand the phenomenal, with a revelation of truth, which is not exhausted\nof its wealth in natural-history, but is unfolded in the history of\nthe world, as a constituent part of which Art supplies us with the\nmost beautiful point of view, the most generous reward for the severe\nlabours of our contact with objective reality and the grievous pains\nof knowledge. And for this reason it was impossible that our inquiry\nshould wholly restrict itself to the criticism of individual works\nof art, or any mere recipe or inducement to their production. Rather\nit could have but the one object, namely, that of following up, of\nseizing and retaining in and through the instrumentality of thought the\nfundamental notion of beauty and art through all the stages which it\npasses in its process of realization.\n\nIf I may be permitted to assume that from the above explained point\nof view my exposition has not been wholly inadequate to general\nexpectation, and that the bonds of obligation with which I have\nthroughout been united to my reader in the pursuit of an object which\nwe hold in common are now released, I will merely add the wish, it is\nmy last word, that a bond yet more exalted and indestructible with the\nidea of beauty and truth may rivet itself between us in place of that\nreleased, and establish an union which shall now and for good remain\nsecure.\n\n\n[Footnote 1: _Diess treibende Pathos._ Pathos is here used to signify\nthe emotional state. This \"motive force\" would give the sense.]\n\n[Footnote 2: _Als konkretes Daseyn zur Existence gebracht._]\n\n[Footnote 3: _In der \u00e4usseren Objektivit\u00e4t._]\n\n[Footnote 4: The reference is of course to lyric composition. By _reale\nIndividualisirung_ Hegel seems to refer to the apprehension by the\nlyric poet of the individual subjective experience in its independent\nreality.]\n\n[Footnote 5: What Hegel means apparently by this statement is that\nthe results of the action are in the view of the persons concerned\nprimarily referred to their own act of volition and sense of\nresponsibility, and as such they modify their future intention or\nconduct.]\n\n[Footnote 6: Poet. c. 5.]\n\n[Footnote 7: _Einem colliderenden Handeln._]\n\n[Footnote 8: As lyric poetry is.]\n\n[Footnote 9: Poet., c. 7.]\n\n[Footnote 10: The fact should be noted, however, that in the\nillustration each division is a complete whole in itself.]\n\n[Footnote 11: Hegel apparently means this by his reference to _die\nbeiden ersten Elemente_, but the passage is not very clear.]\n\n[Footnote 12: _Gehalt_. That is, an imaginative personality, which\nseizes the type and our general humanity.]\n\n[Footnote 13: In this obscure passage I have rather sought to emphasize\nwhat appears to me the general sense than adhere to literal accuracy.\nWhat is contrasted is clearly the naturalism of such a diction as\nSchiller's \"Robbers\" and the French classic diction.]\n\n[Footnote 14: _Der Allgemeinheit._ We should say of \"a more ideal or\ncreative atmosphere.\" The creative poet imports his own universality\ninto the final result both of diction and imaginative conception. Hegel\nadheres to the philosophical term, which, apart from explanation, is\ncertainly very bald, and even, as it stands, unintelligible.]\n\n[Footnote 15: It is not very clear to what Hegel here refers unless to\nthe fact that female parts were played by youths.]\n\n[Footnote 16: We should say rather \"stunned as by a blow,\"\n_zerschmettert,_ rather than _zerschnitten._]\n\n[Footnote 17: _Eines grossen Gem\u00fcths._ It is not clear how far the\nreference is to the poet or the characters. It applies to both.]\n\n[Footnote 18: Poet., c. 4.]\n\n[Footnote 19: Vol. I, pp. 355-379.]\n\n[Footnote 20: Poet., c. 6.]\n\n[Footnote 21: Apart from the practical impossibility of enforcing such\na condition in modern times, Hegel appears here rather to overlook\nthe fact that the printing of a work is of great convenience, and may\neven involve less expense where its repetition in several theatres is\npossible, and, after all, important drama is literature. Where the art\nis bad it is no more possible to prevent its appearance, if the artist\nis able to afford the expense of publication, than in any other art.\nIn the one case as in the other public taste and the law of supply and\ndemand are here the sole and ultimate tests. Sophocles may have written\nhis dramas, no doubt, with a particular stage in view, but we are not\ntherefore entitled to conclude that either he or Aristophanes would\nhave refused assent to the publication of any or all of their works had\nthere been a publisher willing to accept responsibility. Most certainly\nwe may suppose that Shakespeare would not have done so, at least after\ndue representation and revision. I have, however, met with students of\nShakespeare who maintain that no complete autograph manuscript of any\nsingle drama of this poet ever existed.]\n\n[Footnote 22: I think it is obvious that if we take the case of the\nfinest musical reproduction by individual artists of the first rank\nthis distinction is not so emphatic as Hegel would make it out to\nbe. A really great musical performance is something much more than a\nreproduction of musical sound. The effect of personality plays here a\npart of real and essential importance.]\n\n[Footnote 23: _Rollenf\u00e4cher._ Hegel may possibly mean \"the professional\nadjustment of harmonious castes.\"]\n\n[Footnote 24: See vol. III, pp. 427-430.]\n\n[Footnote 25: _Unmittelbaren Individualit\u00e4t._ Hegel means the\nindividuality that is abstract, not soldered into the substance of\nconcrete human life.]\n\n[Footnote 26: _Das G\u00f6ttliche._]\n\n[Footnote 27: _In Gegentheil seiner._ Hegel means, apparently, that the\nprinciple asserts itself positively rather than as the mere negation of\nthe finite, as in exclusive asceticism.]\n\n[Footnote 28: _Das Sittliche_, _i.e.,_ concrete ethical condition.]\n\n[Footnote 29: Hegel appears to understand by pathos here little more\nthan a psychological state.]\n\n[Footnote 30: _Element_, _i.e.,_ apparently, \"this primitive impulse of\nrealization.\"]\n\n[Footnote 31: Hegel's language, _wenn sie itzt aber wirklich_, seems to\ngo as far as my translation. The difficulty of the entire passage, and\nit is no doubt considerable, is primarily due to the fact that Hegel\nis here importing into the notion of classic divinities the profounder\nsignificance of what he calls _sittlichen M\u00e4chte_. By doing this he\ncan more readily shelve the problem how we are to regard the nature of\ntheir existence as potential forces of the Divine Being; that is, apart\nfrom their operative energy in human life, as also the _modus operandi_\nof such Divine energy in its original participation with a real\nworld. He avoids, no doubt, one of the most disputed aspects of his\nphilosophy. But if it is urged in criticism that at least in part his\npresent exposition tends rather to vagueness, or at least to accept a\ncertain measure of symbolism rather than remain severely on the ground\nof genuine philosophical method and thought, to associate itself rather\nwith Plato than Aristotle, in the present context, at any rate, I am\ninclined to agree with it.]\n\n[Footnote 32: _Der Gewalt des Anundf\u00fcrsichseyenden._ Lit., of that\nwhich is or becomes explicit on its own account, i.e., essentially.\nHegel refers, of course, to the ethical forces in the process of life.]\n\n[Footnote 33: Hegel here uses the word _einig_ rather in its secondary\nsense than in its primary one of _unique._]\n\n[Footnote 34: _Als das zu Erhaltende,_ viz., the consistency of\nconcrete life.]\n\n[Footnote 35: By _ihrer unendlichen Sicherheit_ Hegel refers to\nthe stability of the principle of self-conscious, and self-assured\ncharacter, which in its weakness may be merely equivalent to\ncocksuredness.]\n\n[Footnote 36: _Wohlgemuthkeit und Zuversicht_.]\n\n[Footnote 37: Hegel seems to have in his mind characters in comedy of\nwhich Falstaff may be taken as a supreme example, and Shakespeare above\nall the creator of many such. Roy Richmond and Sancho Panza are of the\nsame type.]\n\n[Footnote 38: _Der in der Menschenbrust waltenden G\u00f6tter._]\n\n[Footnote 39: In no religious or even strictly ethical sense of course.]\n\n[Footnote 40: I am not quite sure what Hegel means by his use here of\nthe word _Vers\u00fchnung_, lit., reconciliation. I presume he means a power\nof harmonious recovery, whether in a good sense is not quite clear.]\n\n[Footnote 41: Formal as contrasted with really ethical content.]\n\n[Footnote 42: _Die Substanz_. I presume this is the meaning, _i.e_.,\nthe substantive ideality of the ethical forces inherent in man. The\nentire passage is sufficiently difficult to translate, or indeed wholly\nto follow, or at least apart from its subsequent application to the\nchorus of Tragedy.]\n\n[Footnote 43: _Allgemeine._ Formal in the sense that such a state is\nnot concretely realized in action, but restricts itself to the ideal\nhomogeneity of its form.]\n\n[Footnote 44: It is perhaps best to repeat Hegel's own phrase.]\n\n[Footnote 45: _Die sittliche Berechtigung zu einer bestimmten That._\nThe context shows that Hegel does not merely mean the justification in\nthe individual conscience, which is demanded by and perfected in such\nactivity, but the actual ethical claim which is vindicated in such\naction.]\n\n[Footnote 46: That is, the content of the dramatic action in Greek\ndrama.]\n\n[Footnote 47: By _Rechtfertigung_ Hegel here seems to mean not so much\nthe vindicated right as the degree of responsibility which a certain\nattitude of mind involves. It is the nature of the subjection to the\nvindicated right, or its absence.]\n\n[Footnote 48: By _die subjektive Vertiefung der Pers\u00f6nlichkeit_ Hegel\nwould seem to mean the psychological analysis of character on its own\naccount.]\n\n[Footnote 49: _Blosser Ausgleichung._ The metaphor seems to be that of\na final settlement of accounts, a general settlement would be perhaps a\nbetter translation.]\n\n[Footnote 50: Hegel's statement is hardly supported by the facts as\nthey are narrated in the \"\u0152dipus Rex.\" It is the force of facts rather\nthan a power of prevision, which arouse the knowledge of the terrible\ntruth. But Hegel is here evidently most absorbed in the ideal and\nuniversal significance of the drama.]\n\n[Footnote 51: That is, of course, in death. Sophocles himself of course\nonly very indefinitely, through the evidence of an eye-witness, refers\nto such a possible apotheosis.]\n\n[Footnote 52: The statement of the general contrast is no doubt true\nenough. It may be doubted, however, whether Hegel's own interpretation\nof the reconciliation of \u0152dipus as one consummated in death can be\nwholly brought under the ancient conception. It would seem truer to\nadmit that in the spirit at least of the \"\u0152dipus Coloneus\" we have, at\nleast in so far as that reconciliation is objective, and not merely a\nreconciling influence on our minds, the spectators, as in the case of\nthe deaths of King Lear or Cornelia, in the sense that \"death makes all\nthings sweet,\" a mysterious approach to problems which Christianity\nfirst attempted seriously to solve, and which are usually regarded\nas insoluble without the assumption of a future state, or at least\na divine absorption. Even admitting that \u0152dipus in his death became\na real constituent of the harmonious unity of the civic life that\nreceived him, we cannot with truth say that such a reconciliation was\none in which he shared personally, and whereof he was conscious, except\nin so far as he was aware of this by prevision; and to that extent the\nreconciliation was not in his death, but rather, as in the Christian\nview, a condition of the soul, a conviction that by his death he would\nlive again,--almost identical in fact with some modern interpretations\nof immortality.]\n\n[Footnote 53: Hegel means the conflict between the universal social\ninterest and the private interest, between the concrete social life and\nthe wholly private life.]\n\n[Footnote 54: I think this gives the nearest approach I can make to the\nself-coined word _Grundwohlseyns_, lit., \"the at bottom well being.\"]\n\n[Footnote 55: _Subjektiven Substantialit\u00e4t._ Ideal, that is, as\nopposed to a substantive content based on the facts of living people.\nImpersonations of qualities imagined rather than portraits of living\nmen, ideal therefore in a theoretic and bad sense.]\n\n[Footnote 56: As previously stated I adopt Hegel's expression, being\nunable to express it otherwise better. The whole emotional condition is\nmore or less the meaning, but it is rooted in Greek literature.]\n\n[Footnote 57: _In dieser Bestimmtheit_, lit., in this particular\ndefinition of their content.]\n\n[Footnote 58: Hegel may mean that the passions are opposed to each\nother. The nett result is the same.]\n\n[Footnote 59: Lit., \"Is made the tragic lever.\"]\n\n[Footnote 60: The epithet might mean also \"suggestive of personal\nirritation,\" but the other epithets rather negative this rendering.]\n\n[Footnote 61: _R\u00e4derwerk._ The whole of this passage, in its\ntheoretical analysis, is extremely difficult not merely to translate,\nbut to follow clearly.]\n\n[Footnote 62: I presume this is the meaning of _Pursche_ or _Bursche_,\nand not merely \"youngster.\"]\n\n[Footnote 63: Abstract in the sense that the vices are detached in\ntheir extreme from concrete human nature.]\n\n[Footnote 64: I have made the best I can of a very badly expressed\nsentence, and, as I should add, a very meagre description of the aim of\nmodern comic drama. I am, however, not quite satisfied that it is an\nadequate translation, or that I have grasped what Hegel means by the\nwords _nicht gestehen zu wollen_. It would apply very aptly to such a\ncharacter as Sir Willoughby Patterne, but the pertinency of such an\nepithet as _lang empfunden_ I fail to see. I doubt myself if we have\nhere anything more than a chance note of Hegel tacked in by editors.\nThe whole of the present paragraph is a very jejune description of the\ntreatment of the love passion or affairs of honour by modern drama. A\npity we cannot supplement it with the substance of Meredith's \"Essay on\nComedy.\" The passage, however, must be read as qualified by the further\nnote lower down on the exuberance of one aspect of modern comedy. But\nthe reference to \"Comedy\" in the modern sense is a mere fragment.]\n\n[Footnote 65: That is, self-conscious life. The Absolute here seems to\nbe identified with man's self-conscious activity.]\n\n[Footnote 66: I think this is what Hegel must mean here by _im Elemente\nder Wirklichkeit_, in the element, that is, of material reality.]","title":"The Philosophy of Fine Art, volume 4 (of 4): Hegel's Aesthetik","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":140539}